Now that she saw him in broad daylight for the first time, his appearance was much more human. No costume made from tufts of swirling Smog and no ghastly white skin. Today, the villain had materialized with a startlingly mundane combination of black jeans and a sleeveless blue shirt, and his skin sported the healthy tan of a man often out and about. He had tied his black hair up in a knot at the back of his head, which he now bowed toward Constantine in a gesture of reverence that lacked sincerity. When he straightened back up, his green eyes glittered with mischief.
So he can change what he looks like whenever he turns solid, Wisp deduced, filing the thought away with her other Smoker related observations. This proves it. He has an illusion power of some sort.
“This is him, right?” Luca whispered, releasing her hand.
“Yes,” she said. “Who else would it–”
Constantine shifted his cold gaze from Smoker to her. “Since the two of you are acquainted,” he said, “let’s drop the formalities and get to the point.”
He paused there as if waiting for one of the thugs to approach Wisp with a faux leather rucksack in hand. The man tossed it at her and she caught it, sensing the implied meaning when she felt that it was empty. But she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
“I hear the Postbank in East Berlin is still open,” Constantine said. “Fill this rucksack with bills and return to the university before sunset. Smoker is going with you. If you screw this up, it’s on you.”
“Not a problem,” Wisp said. “I’ll need a moment to prepare, gear up and grab some things from the tower.”
Luca drew a sharp, pained breath that succeeded in making her feel guilty.
This wasn’t about the money. Constantine’s connection to the Conglomerate provided him with all the funding he needed, as evidenced by the arsenal of weapons he was showing off. No, Luca’s hunch from the previous night was most likely correct, and he had every right to be unhappy about it. This was a bad idea and she knew it.
But it’s going to work out in the end. Wisp had seen her danger beacon’s bloody tint and she knew what it meant. From now on, she’d keep the others out of her mess. The bad guys obviously didn’t care about them. The remaining Survivors were going to be fine.
Probably.
Luca threw a wrench in her plan by speaking up loud and clear. “In Emperor Wilhelm’s day and age, people of rank settled their disputes with duels.” He inched forward, lowering his chin like a bull about to charge. “Are you afraid of the old ways, Constantine? I heard you’re an admirer of the Old German Empire and Kaiser Wilhelm in particular.”
His challenge was met with a strained silence. If Luca’s intention had been to divert attention away from Wisp and draw it toward himself, then he had succeeded. Everyone was staring at him, some with utter disbelief, others – and this group included Smoker – with malicious glee.
Even Wisp herself stood staring in shock, her insides frozen with the growing realization of what Luca was doing. When her mouth fell open, the only words that tumbled out were “No. Please don’t.”
Max spoke up at the same time, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Cut it, man. You’re making this worse than it already is.”
Luca didn’t listen, and she only had to take a brief look at his face to understand why. He had always been good at hiding his feelings, even from her, the childhood friend he claimed to trust more than anyone else. Now his carefully maintained mask of nonchalance had slipped away. Underneath it was something he rarely ever showed to her: a raging storm, a year’s worth of bottled up emotion seeping through the cracks of his calm, controlled exterior.
Luca had finally found a target. Someone to blame. For the Deadenings, for Luciano. For everything.
What rattled Wisp more than anything was the fact that he was at least in part doing this for her. She knew him well enough to see the intent in his open provocation: a last-ditch attempt at saving her from a future of proven villainy. By keeping her name out of the news and off the heroes’ hit lists.
But he was going to get himself killed and she couldn’t let him. The idea of losing him made her physically ill.
“A duel was never part of the deal,” she said. “Constantine. You asked a favor in exchange for Hannah, and I said I was going to do it. There’s no need to fight.”
Unfortunately, the villain leader didn’t look particularly interested in avoiding violence. His attention stuck on Luca. “So you think you paid attention in class. I trust you know the rules? Nobility had the right to choose an adjutant to fight in their place.”
“I’m aware,” Luca said. He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his sights set firmly on Smoker. “Your best killer against our best fighter. I wonder if he has the guts to stand up to me without using his powers.”
“Luca,” Wisp said. “Smoker wasn’t anywhere near Berlin a year ago. He has nothing to do with what happened to your brother.”
“What if I was?” Smoker cut into the conversation with his broken, English-accented German, moving toward Luca with what appeared to be deliberate slowness. “Your brother. Dark-haired boy, yes? Tell me the story of how a little boy disappears in the big city.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Wisp noticed that she was yelling and didn’t care. “Smoker didn’t even have powers a year ago. He’s provoking you, and you’re falling for it! Looking at you, it’s easy for him to guess what your brother looks like.”
She could have pointed out how Luciano’s story had been common knowledge at some point, and that Constantine – and by extension his crew – were most likely aware of it. They were aware of her powers, after all. Word got around. But one look at Luca was enough to let her know that she’d only wasted her breath. He tossed the wad of his shirt to the side, the exposed skin of his back glistening with sweat.
“Isn’t it strange,” he said in a low tone, cracking his knuckles, “that the Smog starts blowing from the wrong end of the city right after a certain supervillain shows up?”
“Strange indeed,” Constantine said, his face impassive. He lifted a hand to signal his men. “Bull. I choose you as my adjutant.”
The seven-foot giant with the mini-gun tilted his bald head, muscles rippling through his massive neck. “As you say, boss.” He set his weapon down on the ground, stepped forward, a mountain of flesh and sculpted muscle who cast a very long shadow.
“Stop!” Wisp was screaming now. “This is stupid and pointless. We agreed to do a trade. If you hurt any more of my friends, the deal is off.”
The giant of a man chuckled but said nothing, instead planting his impressive frame in front of Luca. He squinted sidelong at Constantine, clearly waiting for a signal.
The villain leader listened with a half-lidded look of feigned disinterest, tapping his trench coat buttons with his thumb and index finger, making no move to interrupt. Clearly, he was enjoying this. Wisp had a feeling that if she didn’t butt in now, didn’t find a way to change the direction things were going, she never would. The instant Constantine opened his mouth and made a decision, it would be too late.
She took the empty rucksack in a firm grip and walked straight up to him, stopping an arm’s length in front of him, making herself impossible to ignore. “I’ll be ready to go in less than five minutes,” she declared in a tone that allowed no room for doubt. “I know you’re only interested in me, not my gang mates, and I know the Conglomerate feels the same way. Let’s stop wasting time and get this done.”
The instant the word Conglomerate left her lips, Constantine’s hard, calculating gaze shifted to her. His response came without hesitation. “Two minutes. If you take even a second longer, I’ll give Smoker permission to kill your lover boy for assuming anyone gives a fuck.”
While the man made his point, Wisp’s sphere flickered, taking on a new shade of fiery orange. The ominous near-future threat to her life had just crept a good deal closer to the present. But at the very least, the abrupt shift gave her a good idea of what had caused it: the ban
k heist she’d agreed to in exchange for Hannah’s life. The whole thing smelled of a trap.
“Two minutes,” Wisp echoed, her mouth going dry.
I was right. This is about me. He has to play along because the Conglomerate wants me for some reason.
She spun around, reached for the nearest of her three spheres, and flung it in the direction of the tower. She started running while it was still in midair, darting alongside the hovering light and falling behind as it veered upward to the belfry, crossing the fifteen meters of altitude in under three seconds.
Two minutes. The thought rattled her mind and stuck there.
After another moment, the dispatched sphere had safely planted itself on the tower ledge and Wisp swapped positions. As she dropped onto the stone ledge, gripping the frame with both hands to steady her balance, she found herself face to face with a pale, wide-eyed Sara.
“What…” the girl bleated.
“No time to explain.” Wisp hopped down from the frame and rushed to the nearest pile of equipment, then proceeded to rifle through the assortment of clothing and accessories with both hands.
Hannah was going to be fine. Everyone was going to be fine.
What Wisp needed right now was to find the small box of stuff she’d prepared in anticipation of a situation like this. Rob a bank. Of course Constantine wanted her to rob a bank.
“Is Max going to come back up?” Sara asked, skittering around the platform like a scared bird.
“Yes, but later. With Hannah,” Wisp said as she pulled a yellow cardboard box from beneath the rain jacket that was covering it. The contents – a cheap pair of sunglasses, a notepad and pencil, an old flip phone with recently charged batteries – appeared to be intact.
Two minutes. Her mind raced ahead to Luca, losing track of time. Losing track of everything with no immediate connection to this situation.
“Um, Wisp?” Sara piped up again, her voice small and fragile, on the verge of breaking.
Wisp grabbed the notepad and pencil, then shoved both into a pocket of her camo pants. Two minutes minus however many seconds she had already wasted weren’t nearly enough to scribble on the notepad in legible handwriting. She could do that later, but not without risk of Smoker watching. Damn it.
She took the sunglasses. She was going to rob a bank without getting anyone hurt. Taking along a real gun loaded with actual bullets sounded like an invitation for disaster. But then again … Smoker was coming along, and she didn’t trust him to play by her rules. He wasn’t her ally in the first place. If things didn’t play out the way Constantine wanted, the Smog-slinging villain might attack without warning.
“Wisp?” Sara tried again.
“I have to go,” she said, grabbing the sunglasses with one hand and the rain jacket with the other. The synthetic fiber would be uncomfortable to wear under the summer sun and make her stand out in a crowd, but there was a hood attached and she enjoyed having the option of raising it. Bank robbers always got recorded on camera. Beyond the wall, the city still had cameras. And people.
“Go where?” Sara’s big blue eyes shone with tears.
“Following the sort-of plan,” Wisp said, already stepping back to the ledge. “I’ll be back soon and everything’s going to be fine.” Hearing the magic words, they sounded firm and confident enough to silence the nagging doubt at the back of her mind.
A glance at the square confirmed that the situation down there was still under control. No one changed position and no fights broke out. Luca stood in front of Constantine with his back facing the tower, his head lowered and his muscles straining. She could tell how much he struggled to keep his fists to himself, and her heart went out to him as she directed one of her spheres downward to enable her return to the scene. The glowing ball of apricot light darted past Max, who had positioned himself as close to Hannah as the gunmen allowed, and proceeded to hover beside Constantine. She tapped into the flow of power within herself and swapped positions with it.
When she materialized at the center of the scene, Constantine cocked his head, inspecting the pocket watch in his hand. “Half a minute left,” he said. “Smoker, show her to the other side of the wall.”
All the Transmuter offered in return was a curt nod of acknowledgement. Wisp’s eyes locked with Luca’s. The storm of barely contained fury and frustration on his face transfixed her and pierced her soul. He stood there like a statue carved from the tense, deathly atmosphere that permeated the area, shoulders tense but arms hanging limp at his sides.
I tried, his clenched fists were telling her. I tried for you.
What he actually said was, “You made your decision.” His voice was the sound of shattered hope and their friendship falling into tatters. He was looking through her as if searching for a piece of something he could still believe in. She had seen this coming but now that it had caught up to her, it was running down her neck with the chill of unavoidable reality, and still broke her heart.
“Hannah’s gonna be fine,” she replied, meeting Luca’s eyes straight on. It sounded like a good justification to her, but through the frayed threads of the connection they used to share, she sensed it wasn’t enough. She’d never be able to heal his emotional scars or see the world the way he did. His blacks and whites were problems and solutions to her.
“Good luck,” Max said from behind her.
She gave a nod, grateful for the support, but didn’t turn to look at him. She was afraid she’d jinx her mission if she hesitated at all. Lose her momentum, stumble, and fall. She had climbed high. The fall would be ugly.
“Let’s go,” she said to Smoker, who was still standing in Constantine’s shadow. While marching ahead she kept her eyes on the Europa Center’s multi-tiered shopping complex. Her objective was in that general direction. If she just kept going, things would fall into place somehow.
The armed thugs she passed smirked at her. She realized that she was clutching her fists at her sides, an almost perfect match to Luca’s defiant poise, and forced herself to relax. Constantine and his goons were underestimating her. She’d capitalize on their arrogance and make it her strength. Whenever her resolve began to slip, she thought back to Hannah’s bruises and the arsenal of guns pointed at her friends and her home. She had long reached the boiling point. The fire in her belly helped keep the mask in place.
CHAPTER 8
As for all the talk about heroism and fighting for a greater good? Save it for the comic books.
-An insight by Mascot
When Wisp approached the square’s edge, the five-meter Smog walls enclosing it melted away, diminishing and fraying as if dispersed by the wind. The wind had nothing to do with it, however. Long, hazy bands of vapors rolled downward to congeal over sun-warmed pavement, then flowed along nearby streets in river-like rivulets, searching for the nearest grate or manhole to disappear through. To retreat into the city’s underbelly it had supposedly risen from.
When she reached the strolling area outside the Europa Center with its circular fountain seats, Wisp paused to take in this surreal spectacle of daytime Smog banishment.
“So you can’t just summon it at night,” she said to Smoker, who tagged along at her side. “You can get rid of it during the day, too.” His display of control had left an impression on her and she did her best not to let it show.
“Correct,” Smoker said in English, the word loaded in boredom. “Get a move on, kid. We don’t have all day. Keep walking toward the wall, I’ll let you know when you take a wrong turn.”
She tucked the sunglasses into a pocket and tied the rain jacket around her waist. If Smoker had this much power over Smog – and not just a fraction, no, all of the stuff – did this mean he’d experienced one of those surges the pundits kept rambling on about? Because that would be plenty reason for the Covenant to come kill this guy in about five minutes flat. According to the rumors she’d heard about power surged Evolved, anyway.
I’d have to prove it. She rubbed her nose. What if this wasn’t a
power surge, but instead a specialization or power synergy that only worked on biomass-melting toxic gas? Wisp’s array of numerous, minor, limited usability tricks was an oddity in the Evolved community. Most powered had five or less different power talents, but executed those with unmatched expertise.
Or maybe Luca was right after all. She disliked the thought but failed to push it away. Maybe Smoker really was here a year ago. Maybe he was behind the Deadenings all along.
At any rate, she had to learn more about the guy before she knew exactly how dangerous he was. Looking around and seeing the Smog retreat and disperse made her think that he was too dangerous to stay alive. Common sense told her that the Conglomerate wouldn’t stink up her home turf without their pet Transmuter to keep the stench in check.
Smoker had to be disposed of. Sure, there was a chance for his powers to re-emerge after his death. With any luck, whoever inherited them wouldn’t turn out to be an arrogant, snot-faced villain.
“You going to stand around there all day?” Smoker tossed a pebble at her. It bounced off her pant leg and she set back into motion, hiding her clenched fists beneath the drape of her rain jacket.
Wisp trudged down the broad expanse of Budapest Street and stepping over streaks of moonlight and shadows cast by twisted, dying trees. In no particular hurry to reach her destination, she maintained a leisurely pace, monitoring her danger beacons as much as her surroundings. The three lights floated alongside her, matching her step. Only a paper-thin sheet of Smog still trailed across the ground. The streets looked safe enough to walk on.
What Wisp wanted the most was a chance to write a couple notes without Smoker reading over her shoulder. She had a feeling he was going to turn incorporeal before entering the bank with her, meaning she wouldn’t be able to tell who or what he was looking at. But he’d definitely be watching. Perhaps wait for her to screw up and find an excuse to kill her if she did.
Gift of Light_A Powered Destinies stand-alone novel Page 15
