Dennis made a sound of protest at the deep, masculine voice coming from the body of his escort. But then his expression turned placid as he nodded.
“Do you remember all of the details in each Super Mag’s file?” Michael asked, holding the other man with his stare.
“Of course,” Dennis replied in a dreamy voice.
“Good,” Michael said. “I want you to replicate every one of their files, exactly as they appear in real life.” He slid a notebook across the table to Dennis.
“Anything for you, my love,” Dennis replied. He took the pen and leaned closer to Michael, before remembering Michael’s earlier order and reluctantly unpuckering his lips.
Dennis didn’t stop writing, even when the waitress asked if they were ready for some amuse-bouche. Michael asked the waitress in a polite voice to just bring him a steak.
If she’d been put off by a man’s voice coming from Chastity’s body, she didn’t show it. The waitress actually curtsied to Michael and hurried off to place the order.
Yutika slapped a hand over A.J.’s mouth before he went psycho vegan and started screaming in the restaurant.
I picked up my spoon and took a bite of the tiny custard that had been set in front of me. It tasted vaguely fishy and way too salty.
“Five-hundred dollars a person, and they’re serving me leaves?” Gray whispered to me. He showed me his plate, which was in fact covered with an array of edible flowers.
“I think I got an eyeball,” Yutika complained, making a gagging sound that got us dirty looks from the couple at the next table. “We’re going to have to do a fast food run after we get out of here.”
It began to snow inside the restaurant. Except, unlike with my cousin and Valencia’s rain storms, the snow didn’t land on us. It stopped several feet above our heads. Between the snowflakes, crackling fires, and silver trees, I could forgive the terrible food.
An hour and about a thousand tiny courses later, Dennis was still writing.
“How much longer?” Michael asked Dennis.
“Nearly done,” the other man replied, flipping a page.
From where I was sitting, I could see that Dennis was almost at the end of the notebook. We’d have our work cut out for us later when we actually had to go through all of the information.
I had just dipped my spoon into a soufflé that was more air than food, when Smith’s voice filled my ear.
“Code red, people.”
“What?” I looked around, but nothing seemed out of order.
“Kaira, get the fuck out of there,” Smith said more urgently.
I met Michael’s eyes across the restaurant. He nodded, Whispered to Dennis, and tucked the notebook under his arm.
“What’s going on?” I hissed into my mike as Yutika threw three-thousand dollars in cash on the table.
It had taken Yutika about five minutes to create the cash earlier in the afternoon, but wasting that much money on dinner still hurt the part of me that Grandma Tashi had ingrained to never waste anything.
Before Smith could answer, the restaurant door opened. I caught sight of red hair, and then the voice I loathed said, “Evening, Mags. Love this weath-ah.”
I exchanged a nervous look with the others.
Valencia was standing in the doorway, blocking our exit out of the restaurant.
Ten more UnAllied tramped into the restaurant after her. I could see the bulge of weapons in several of their suit jackets and sticking out of purses. The last member of Valencia’s party entered the restaurant, and my nervousness turned to full-blown panic.
Valencia’s Shield brother was here.
“Hope our table’s ready,” Valencia’s brother announced. “I’m stah-ving.”
Two things happened at once. All of our illusions disappeared, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turned on us.
Valencia pointed at us and shrieked, “Graysen Gald-ah!”
CHAPTER 21
With Valencia’s Shield brother standing inside the restaurant, all of our magic was useless. I couldn’t hide us, Michael couldn’t Whisper, and Bri couldn’t punch and kick our enemies into next week.
The other Mags in the restaurant shrank down in their chairs and stared at their plates, not wanting any part of our drama.
The only positive was that I didn’t see the Energy Manipulator among the group of UnAllied. Losing our magic was bad, but having it stolen and used by that evil man would have been a hundred times worse.
Small consolations.
“Stay away from us,” Bri said, pushing her way to the front of our group and holding up her fists.
I’d seen her beat a punching bag into a pulp in her normal skin, but without her magic, there was only so much she could do against a group of armed UnAllied.
“Kitchen,” Smith said in my ear. “Behind you. I’ll bring the van.”
I started to turn, but Gray gripped my arm. He gave me a warning look and then turned to Valencia.
“I surrender,” he said, raising his hands. “Just let my friends go free.”
His words were met with laughter from Valencia and her people. Bri made a sound of protest and started forward, but I shook my head. Even though every one of my instincts demanded that I get between Gray and Valencia, I didn’t want to mess up whatever he was planning.
Gray took a few slow steps forward. And then, so fast I almost missed it, he punched Valencia’s brother in the face.
The Shield went down like a sack of very heavy potatoes. Valencia roared. Magic rushed back into me as the Shield lay sprawled and unconscious on the restaurant floor.
Bri let out a war cry and barreled into the UnAllied, her silver skin flashing in the chandelier light.
A small fire burst up from the floor as a low-level Pyrokinetic tried to burn our feet off. The rest of the UnAllied surged forward.
“Run!” Smith hollered.
I barely noticed the freezing rain that was pelting down on us as we sprinted past tables and around shocked waiters.
“Sorry!” Yutika called when a tray of food crashed to the floor.
“Go vegan or go home!” A.J. shouted, leaping over the scattered dishes.
I ducked as a knife went sailing overhead, which A.J. stopped in mid-air and sent flying back at the crowd of UnAllied without so much as touching the weapon. Guns went off. When I looked back, I saw the bullets suspended in mid-air as A.J. controlled them with his mind.
The UnAllied were right on our heels. Everyone was shouting as weapons and crockery flew through the air.
Gray clasped my hand as we shoved through the swinging door into the kitchen. I changed our appearances so we looked like the white-clad men and women standing at the cooktops.
There was a tremendous crash from just outside the swinging door. Through the glass window, I saw a tower of tables, chairs, and silver trees form a barricade between the UnAllied and the door.
“Nice,” I told A.J. as we raced by the actual chefs, who were ducking behind pantry shelves and holding up their hands to show they were unarmed.
“We won’t hurt you,” I promised a chef who was weeping and clutching a pan to his chest.
“And, uh, sorry for ruining your restaurant,” Gray added.
“Smith should be outside,” I called to Yutika, who was leading our group around the various metal islands and cooktops toward the rear exit.
Yutika shoved open the door and went still. A.J., who was right behind her, skidded to a halt before he bowled her over.
“Yutika, go,” I said, glancing back to where crashing noises were coming from the other side of the kitchen. Whatever the UnAllied were doing, they were about to break through A.J.’s barricade.
When Yutika still didn’t move, I turned my full attention on her. That was when I saw the man on the other side of the door…and the gun barrel pressed against Yutika’s head.
The chefs screamed and fell to the floor. The seven of us went motionless.
“Oh, yeah,” the UnAllied man chuckl
ed, making the gun wobble against Yutika’s skin. “Valencia is gonna promote me for this.” He let out a raspy chuckle. “Fishes in a barrel.”
“I can’t do anything with it so close to her head,” A.J. said, giving me a panicked look. “His finger’s on the trigger.”
“Michael,” I began. He should already be Whispering. He was the only one who could stop this without risking the gun going off.
“Yutika.” Michael’s voice was strangled.
The swinging door gave a shuddering jolt as the UnAllied on the other side made more progress against the barrier.
Michael’s entire body was trembling. Sweat poured down his face, which had turned the color of chalk. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
I could hear his teeth clattering together.
I dropped my illusion and took a hesitant step forward.
“I’m the one your boss wants,” I told the man. “Why don’t you point that gun at me instead of someone who had nothing to do with Valencia’s arrest?”
The man looked from Yutika, who was still illusioned like one of the chefs, to me. Uncertainty wavered in his gaze. And then he pulled the gun back from Yutika’s head. He moved to aim it toward me.
Before he could, the gun flew out of his hand.
His finger, which was still wrapped around the trigger, twitched as the weapon left his hand. The gun went off.
Gray tackled the man, just as Bri pulled Yutika behind her.
A small dusting of plaster fell from the ceiling, where a round bullet hole shone dark amid the white paint.
Yutika and A.J. raced past the UnAllied man. Bri gave the man a swift kick with her titanium foot, which had him out cold. Gray took my hand and pulled me out after the others. I glanced back.
Michael hadn’t moved.
He was standing in the same spot, his entire body convulsing.
“Michael, come on,” I shouted.
When he still didn’t budge, I went back for him. I grabbed his arm and pulled. His huge frame was locked in place. It was like trying to move a boulder.
Graysen gave him a hard push, but aside from a slight step to the side to right himself, Michael didn’t move. He gave no indication that he could hear our frantic voices. He was gripping the notebook hard enough that his fingers had gone bloodless.
At that moment, the swinging door crashed open. UnAllied poured into the kitchen.
“Move!” Bri pushed past me and lifted Michael in one arm. She threw his prone body over her shoulder and sprinted for the door.
Gray and I followed.
We both flinched and ducked as a knife sailed right over our heads. The blade stuck in the wall in front of us. We dove out the door, which slammed shut behind us with magical force.
The van was idling on the street right outside. We threw ourselves inside just as Valencia burst out of the restaurant. Yutika reached around me to give Valencia the one-finger salute.
Gray slammed the van door closed as Smith hit the gas. With a squeal of tires, we were speeding down the road. We left the UnAllied standing in a cloud of our exhaust.
CHAPTER 22
Since Michael was in no position to Whisper, Bri threatened the petrified Chastity Hardlove to within an inch of her life before we dropped her outside her apartment building.
By the time we made it home, all of my worries boiled down to a single focus: Michael.
He hadn’t spoken or seemed to even hear us as we went through our usual routine of switching cars and illusions to make sure we weren’t followed. Bri had needed to carry him into the house because he wasn’t moving on his own. Aside from his chattering teeth, he didn’t make a sound.
Michael was the steadiest of all of us, and to see him go completely unhinged was rattling our entire group.
“Put him on the couch,” A.J. told Bri. “I’ll whip up some hot chocolate.”
I grabbed the blanket we kept over the back of the couch and wrapped it over his shoulders.
Sir Zachary crawled onto his lap and offered up his new stuffed elephant toy. When Michael didn’t react, the little dog began to lick his shaking hand.
Yutika sat on the floor in front of Michael and rested her head against his knee.
Bri gently wrestled the notebook out of Michael’s death grip.
“Here you go, muffin,” A.J. said, slipping a steaming mug into Michael’s hands. “Made with fresh macadamia milk.”
Michael’s shaking made the steaming liquid slosh over the sides. He didn’t react when the scalding liquid splashed onto his skin. Gray grabbed the mug out of Michael’s unresisting hands before he burned himself.
“Michael, please,” Yutika begged. “Talk to us.”
“I—”
Michael blinked and looked around, like he’d only just realized we were there.
“I need to be alone.” He swallowed.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, man,” Gray said.
“Not gonna happen.” A.J. tucked the blanket more securely around Michael’s shoulders. “We’re family, and family doesn’t just bolt. You’re stuck with us.”
I rested a hand on Michael’s broad shoulder. “Do you want Ma to come over?”
I’d never encountered a problem that Ma and her home cooking couldn’t solve.
Michael just shook his head as another shudder rolled through him.
Smith tossed an empty grape soda can at me. When I glared at him, he turned his laptop screen so I could see the news article he’d pulled up. The title read, “Twelve-thousand Dead in Detroit Slaughters. Worst Tally Worldwide. Will Detroit Ever Recover?”
“I’m sorry,” Michael said, his voice cracking.
All of his attention was on Yutika.
“I couldn’t—” He closed his eyes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Yutika reached up and brushed her fingers along his stubbled cheek.
For the first time since that UnAllied had held a gun to Yutika’s head, Michael moved on his own. He reached forward and ran his trembling fingers through Yutika’s hair.
“We’re here for you.” She rested her hand on his leg. “And you don’t have to talk about it. We’re all okay, and that’s all that matters.”
Michael let out an unsteady breath.
“Tonight just reminded me of…stuff from my past,” he said in a gruff voice. He glanced up at us, his cheeks reddening. “I know I put all of us at risk. I…that won’t happen again.”
“You aren’t the first one of us to lose your shit on the job,” I told him. “You’ve never judged any of us, and we’re not judging you. We don’t ever need to mention this again, but if you want to talk, we’re here for you.”
Michael nodded.
“It’s late,” Yutika announced. She got up, picking up the mug of hot chocolate in one hand and offering the other to Michael. “Come on.”
“We’ll fill you in on everything in the morning,” I said when Michael hesitated. “Go get some sleep.”
Once he and Yutika had retreated upstairs, with Sir Zachary on their heels, the rest of us just stared at each other.
“I think I need a hot chocolate,” Bri said.
“Make that two,” Graysen said.
“Hot chocolates all around.” A.J. clapped his hands, and five mugs flew out of the cabinet and lined themselves up on the counter.
“Can we get back to work?” Smith asked, gesturing to the notebook Dennis had filled up at the restaurant.
“Poor baby,” A.J. told Smith. “We all know emotions are hard for you. Want a hug?”
Smith’s only response was a growl.
We spent the next hour pouring over the notebook filled with the Super Mags’ files. By the time we reached the end, my eyes felt dry as dust…and we still didn’t have a murder suspect.
None of the Super Mags’ abilities neatly fit into the clues we had taped, sticky tacked, and stapled onto our wall.
“Argh!” Bri crumpled up the entire notebook and threw it at the wall.
Fo
rtunately, she wasn’t in her titanium form, otherwise the notebook probably would have made a hole straight through to outside.
“What a waste of a night,” I said, rubbing my face.
“So, maybe we were wrong about it being a Super Mag,” Gray told me. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m going to try and set a digital trap for our phantom killer,” Smith announced.
“Good idea,” I told him, unable to muster the appropriate level of enthusiasm. I was exhausted and at my wit’s end.
“Speaking of great ideas,” A.J. said. He flailed his arms. A second later, there was an explosion of confetti. The entire room was filled with it.
“A.J., I don’t think any of us is really in the mood for a party,” Bri pointed out.
Not confetti, I realized as the tiny white shreds began to fly through the air and fit themselves together like paper puzzles. It was the bag of shredded papers A.J. had taken out of Eleanor Ridley’s apartment.
“You’re a genius, A.J.,” Graysen said, watching in amazement as the tiny shreds rearranged themselves in mid-air.
“I know,” A.J. replied. “But this is going to take some time. Make yourselves comfy.”
✽✽✽
I must have dozed off. When I opened my eyes, my neck felt like it might be permanently bent at an awkward angle.
Smith was busy on his three computers. A.J. was sitting on one of the bean bag chairs with his eyes closed. I would have thought he was sleeping, except the shreds of paper were still frantically arranging themselves.
Gray was curled up on the other bean bag chair with two thick law books and a pad of sticky notes. His tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth as he took notes. It was something he only did when he was in deep concentration. My heart doubled in size at the adorable sight he made, until I realized he was shivering. There was a light sheen of sweat darkening his hair, and when I looked closer, I saw the stiffness in his posture.
I went over and felt his forehead. He was burning up.
“You need a hot bath, ibuprofen, and sleep,” I told him, giving his hand a tug.
Gray’s lupus was always lurking in his joints, but it got worse when he wasn’t sleeping. I could tell from the way he was sitting that his whole body was hurting, and it would only get worse the longer he pushed himself.
Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set Page 47
