Maybe that was just a myth.
Maybe.
I wondered if the Hero Council had me on file as a Support operative?
Something about the way I’d been recruited into helping Support told me that the answer was probably no. Winterfield had always been tough to read, but after the whole fake parole officer routine, one thing was blindingly obvious—he liked to keep things close to his chest.
I walked, head down, and stretched out with my special sense, trying to locate the sprig. It wouldn’t live long without me putting more vitality into it.
A twinge of agony echoed ahead of me. I sensed a thirst for nitrogen and a wordless cry in my mind. I extended my essence, managed to recapture the connection with the vine and send some of my life essence into it, using that to draw more nitrogen. Gus was two blocks west of me, on Burnside. I followed him up to Broadway.
The Hero Council Blimp meandered off to the north, toward the Columbia River and Vancouver, disappearing into a low cloud.
Gus turned south, walking slower now.
Reluctantly?
I smiled to myself. Heading to Mutter, Gus?
I kept my head down, my eyes on the sidewalk as I passed a newspaper stand. A headline—New Hero Council team for Northwest? bannered the front page of today’s Oregon Journal.
Great, just what I needed.
The plant riding on the back of Gus’s coat suddenly moaned as it went into shadow. I quickened my pace.
Gus must have gone into the Imperial Hotel, a block ahead of me.
The Imperial was a weather-worn five-story brick building. Moss covered the side facing me. I hurried to close the distance.
I stepped through the revolving door into the carpeted lobby, its ancient woodwork dull in the yellow light. This place might have been something once, many years ago, but now it seemed like a forlorn and forgotten place.
Why would Mutter choose a dump like this to hole up in?
Maybe Gus was meeting someone else. I closed my eyes, concentrated.
Gus was close by. The elevators. I went up a short flight of stairs to where the two elevators were, just in time to see Gus disappear inside the far one.
Once the doors closed, I watched the number on the elevator light climb nonstop until it reached the fifth floor.
I lost the connection to the vine riding Gus’s back, but that wasn’t the only connection I possessed.
I took the other elevator up to the fifth floor, got out, and started slowly walking the hall’s faded carpet. Halfway down the hall my skin began tingling, becoming a thousand little electric needles as I passed the double door to the Regency suite.
More than one Empowered was in the suite.
I raised my hand to knock, hesitated. What would Mutter think about me following Gus here? Would he be suspicious? Maybe I should have waited longer before acting, but I couldn’t. Time was wasting. If I'd waited any longer, maybe the opportunity would have been gone.
My knock was louder than I intended, and I jumped at the sound.
The air rustled at my feet and the top of my head, ruffling my hair.
The handles turned, and the doors swung open.
“Come in.” The words were a whisper, seeming to come from right beside my ear. I whirled around.
No one there.
I walked into the suite.
Gus stood next to a beat-up couch. He looked scared shitless.
Sitting on the couch was a skinny guy in a fancy green suit, the kind with a high collar that covered his throat. He had a styled mop of dark blond hair, bangs down over his eyes. He looked like the kind of a guy that spent his time in art galleries and swanky penthouse parties, not hanging out in a dump like the Imperial Hotel.
He was good looking, if you liked guys without any meat on them. He had this smug half-smile thing going on. Gave me the creeps and annoyed the crap out of me at the same time. The weirdest thing was that his fingers were cupped around his mouth to make a funnel.
The air around me rustled and the doors behind me shut with a rattle. The intel on the cell had said Kai Jones, the leader, could control air currents.
Bingo. My plan had worked. Gus had led me straight to him.
“Kai Jones?”
The air whispered beside me. “Call me Mutter.”
Dumb name, but I’d play along. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.
I walked to a chair across from the couch, sat.
His stared at me like I was a bug that had just crawled out of the carpet. I wanted to look away, but kept my eyes on him.
After what felt like forever, Mutter half turned toward Gus, fingers still funneled around his mouth. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear his words. Gus’s field jacket billowed opened, and he wobbled.
The vine I had planted in the back of Gus’s jacket rose up like a cobra from a snake charmer’s basket. It corkscrewed through the air and floated down to Mutter’s lap.
“That was a neat trick you pulled on Gus.” Mutter’s voice was low, calm sounding, in control. “You were named Vine for good reason.” He smiled, showing fine, white teeth.
I shrugged.
“However, Gus told you I said no, yet you did not take my no for an answer.” The smile was gone.
Icy fear settled in the small of my back.
I lifted my chin. “I wasn’t sure Gus was telling me the truth. He often is full of it.”
Mutter gave a sharp laugh. “You can do better than that, Vine.”
The way he drew out the name the second time he said it set my teeth on edge. “I don’t go by that anymore,” I said.
“You don’t like nicknames, do you?” Mutter tilted his head. “You think my calling myself Mutter is ridiculous, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.” What was he getting at? Who cared about his stupid name?
“It’s plain from your reaction when I asked you to call me Mutter.” He whispered under his breath, a cross between shushing and mumbling, and then something like “whisk, whisk.”
Air gusted around me. Hotel stationary fluttered off the desk by the window.
“This is nothing,” Mutter said. “I can do much worse.”
“I’m sure of it,” I said. I kept my head up.
He went on like he hadn’t heard me.
“Someone else gave me the name Mutter.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “Long ago. He thought he was being funny, that my power was nothing.”
A blast of air slammed Gus off his feet. My chest was tight. I held myself back from helping Gus to his feet. Poor Gus grabbed onto the armrest of the couch and hauled himself up, his face white. “I get it,” I said.
Mutter arched an eyebrow. “Do you? The fool who first called me Mutter thought that he had “got it,” when they gave me that name, that somehow he knew who I was.”
The air grew very still.
“He most certainly did not know.” He whispered again, a deep sound. My throat was squeezed shut.
I couldn’t breath.
“You think Empowered names are old fashioned, don’t you Mathilda?” Mutter asked me. “You don’t comprehend their power to shape how others see you.” He leaned toward me.
I struggled to suck in air, but my throat stayed closed. My neck muscles strained, but I still couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to die.
“How much the right name can make them fear you,” Mutter went on, like he was talking about choosing lunch.
I couldn’t open my throat.
Gus got to his feet. “Please, Kai, let her go.”
Mutter watched me like a snake, his lips pursed.
My chest hurt like hell. The room began to turn red and ripple around me.
“You don’t have to imagine what happened to that fool,” Mutter said.
I nodded desperately.
He smiled thinly, and whistled. My throat suddenly opened. I exhaled the air trapped in my lungs. Breathed in fresh air in big, shaking gasps.
“I call myself M
utter now. It is a name I wear proudly. Because I know what it means.”
I nodded, chest still heaving as I sucked in more air.
His lips curled in a sneer. “Now you almost understand.” I nodded. I didn’t have to fake that nod, I meant it. He’d nearly killed me, the bastard. I had to be more careful.
He shot Gus a venomous look. “Don’t ever call me Kai again.”
Gus paled. “No, Mutter, I won’t,” he said, voice quaking.
Mutter smiled at me. “And you, Mathilda, should embrace your Empowered name.” He said Mathilda like it was something he’d found washed up on the beach, weird and rotting.
“Mat. Everyone calls me Mat.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes.” My lungs still ached, but his mocking my name annoyed me enough that for an instant I didn’t care. “Really.” My face hardened.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Mat. I still think you should embrace Vine, but that’s up to you.” He shrugged again. “Now, why didn’t you take no for answer?” he asked.
“I figured I could convince you to let me join your group.”
Another short bark of laughter. “Interesting choice of words.” He looked over at Gus, made a face. “Go take a bath, Blender. You stink of sweaty fear. And get rid of that moldy old jacket of yours.”
Gus slunk off without protest, head down, disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
Mutter shook his head fractionally. “I have given him a new jacket, a better one, but he insists on wearing that stinking army relic.”
As long as I’d known Gus he’d worn that old army field jacket. “Gus’s grandfather died in the Three Days War,” I said. He might be a weasel, but everyone who knew him knew why he wore the army field jacket.
Mutter waved a hand dismissively. “Ancient history. Blender needs to live in the present, just like the rest of us.”
The sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Mutter nodded. “About time Blender took a bath and washed the stink off.” He leaned forward. “So, back to you and your not taking no for an answer. You don’t follow instructions very well, do you?”
I swallowed. “I need things to happen now.”
“You need money. Gus said you haven't been able to hold a job.”
I swallowed again and wiped the sweat from my lips with the back of my hand. The room was suddenly very still. “That’s right.”
He sighed. “Really, are you surprised? So-called normals distrust us when they aren’t afraid of us. They envy us, despise us, but mostly they fear us. That is our advantage. Not our powers. Fear. If others fear you, you can control them.”
I listened, and took slow breaths as my heart rate finally slowed. “Yes,” I said. Better play along with Mister-likes-to-block-airways.
He leaned back, cupping his hands beneath his chin. He’d be able to make a funnel in no time. I struggled not to shudder.
“I see that you do understand,” he said. “Now, as to why you are here. You didn’t take no for an answer.”
Suddenly he seemed pleased. I couldn’t figure him out.
“You do want to join my cell.”
“Yes.” I tried not to sound too eager.
“Well, joining means passing a test.”
“Test?”
“A multi-part test. You’ve already passed the first part.”
“I don’t get it.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. He had been screwing with me. The whole you didn’t take no for an answer routine was probably just another part of his weird “multi-part” test.
“It’s simple. You successfully followed Gus to me, just as I wanted you to. Now you need to undertake a little job.” The smile edged back around the corners of his mouth.
“What sort of job?”
“There’s a lot of criminal trafficking in illegal drugs in this city, as you no doubt are aware.” His smile went wide “What matters to us are the shipments to Portland and payment for the shipments by the middlemen.”
“You want me to knock off a drug shipment?”
He leaned back on the couch. “Bring back the drugs and the cash.”
I laughed, despite the knot of fear in my stomach. “Is that all?”
“It is. If you want to become a member of my organization, you must successfully complete this job.” His organization. He meant his cell, I think, but I couldn’t read him.
His eyes glittered beneath his dark blond bangs as he waited my response.
I didn't dare hesitate. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.”
He gave me details on where the drug distributors were going to meet the local middlemen: on an old abandoned factory along the river in Oregon City, sometime tomorrow or the day after, most likely at night. The timing seemed convenient, awfully convenient. He just happened to have a job ready for me to pull off?
My face must have shown my disbelief, because Mutter tapped his head.
“I have more than just a power, Mathilda. I have three things nearly as useful—a network of information, the ability to always have a plan at the ready, and the intelligence to execute it.” His face darkened. “What I require is willingness to carry out those plans on my behalf.”
On his behalf. Not the Scourge’s. He hadn’t mentioned them at all, and I wasn’t about to ask him at this point.
“I understand.”
He brushed his bangs back. “We will see, won’t we?”
The water stopped running.
“Gus is finished,” Mutter said. “Let’s hope he doesn’t stink of fear, at least not for a little while.” He smirked. “Gus is easily frightened.”
CHAPTER 7
The abandoned factory was still deserted.
After twelve hours spent waiting for those drug ganger knuckleheads to show up to make the switch, my car smelled like the inside of a locker room. The vinyl had stains from God only knew what, and I hadn’t been able to shower in a couple of days, not since leaving Winterfield’s secret dungeon or whatever it was. I was at the point where I hated my own smell. Yeah, it would be nice if Empowered didn’t get ripe like everyone else, but we did. Worse, maybe, because of our hyped up metabolism.
The stakeout, or whatever it was I was on, was as boring as hell. Rain pelted the Dasher nonstop. I hunkered down in the back seat and tried to stay warm. I’d forgotten to bring a book and listening to the radio got old. None of the music they played did anything for me.
Finally, after snatching sleep and sneaking off to pee, I resorted to leafing through the ancient Newsweek magazine I’d found moldering under the driver’s seat. It was twenty years old, pages yellowed, with a headline screaming something about The Ubermensch, those European Empowered neo-Nazi terrorists who tried to overthrow the Hero Council back in the 1990s. I was a baby when it happened, but like I said, we had to study history in Special Corrections, and that was after Ruth had talked about them when I was young, so it wasn’t like I didn't know about it.
The Ubermensch idiots had tried to seize the Hero Council’s European headquarters in Berlin and proclaim a new order run by Empowered. A few sanctioned Empowered, French and German mostly, who had joined in that stupid attempt to change the world. Somehow the Hero Council saw it coming, and took out the whole sorry bunch with a combined force from North and South America, Asia, and Europe. The Ubermensch never stood a chance.
I tossed the magazine back under the seat. Ancient history. Empowered served humanity. The Hero Council and the United Nations Charter on Empowered both made a huge deal out of that.
The old Scourge had showed up a couple of years after the Ubermensch got stomped. Supposedly they wanted to free Empowered from servitude, but the whole thing was a crock. If you were a sanctioned, you were in the Hero Council, and you got free housing, spending money, etc. If you were a Forsworn, then yeah, you got a little stipend after signing an agreement and swearing an oath in court that you’d never use your power. I'd tried keeping my power a secret at fir
st. I had just turned fifteen. And then, when I got drunk on it, I went to the local Hero Council office. They checked me out, and said I would need to swear an oath never to use my power. Just like that. They could care less about my power. Didn’t even ask if I wanted to join them. Assholes. So, I ran off to join the Renegades. When the Hero Council took down the Renegades, I was the only survivor. Rogues like me got sent to Special Corrections, for life, if they weren’t executed for their crimes. I was lucky. I’d been sixteen. Underage for the death penalty. And young enough I earned a chance at parole.
I was bored out of my mind. I fiddled with the radio again, fumbling around until I found a news station.
They interviewed Karl Cooper, the hot new star of the Hero Council North America’s so-called “First Team.” He’d been dubbed Dynamo, because of his super strength, which meant he could wear powered combat armor that apparently weighed half a ton. Half a freaking ton.
Cooper sounded like one of those All American jocks I used to avoid back in school.
The host asked him a bunch of softball questions, like what was it like to wear all that armor, how did he feel about the fame, blah blah blah until finally asking him what he felt about Empowered criminals. I straightened up in my seat and leaned forward.
“I feel sorry for them.” Cooper sounded like he meant it.
“Why?” the host asked. “Is it because they are squandering their gifts?”
Cooper waited a thoughtful few seconds before answering, probably to seem like he was actually considering the question. “Because they are being controlled by their gifts.”
The host started to ask Cooper something else but I turned the radio off with a savage twist of the dial.
What a load of crap. I was a criminal because of the dumb-ass choices I’d made. Gus was a criminal because he was a weasel. I was pretty sure Mutter was a criminal because he liked being in charge.
The night wore on. Waiting was as boring as hell. The only thing I had left was remembering things, like my fight with Ruth, and nearly killing Hatcher and his gangers.
No thanks.
The best I could do in the sleep department was cat nap. I’d parked the Dasher near the entrance to the old factory’s parking lot. The gangers’ vehicles would pass right by my car.
The Empowered Series (Book 1): Empowered (Agent) Page 9
