by Naomi Martin
“Shit. We’re trapped,” I turn back to the boys, my heart thundering in my chest as I try to think of a way out of this.
“Raven McCabe,” a man’s voice on the street calls out. “Color me disappointed. I thought you were smarter.”
The voice is tinny-sounding through the bullhorn, but it’s unmistakable to me as it echoes around the mostly vacant street. It’s Villa. My blood runs cold at the same time I feel my body growing hot. Rage flows through my veins and I have to physically restrain myself from storming outside and lighting them all up.
A quick glance back at the boys is what holds me in place. The last thing I want is to endanger them. Especially now that we’ve got Gray back. Sort of.
“It’s good to see you again, Raven. Or will be, once you come out of there,” Villa calls out. “As the old saying goes, you’re surrounded. You’ve got nowhere to go. It’d be in your best interest to come on out rather than make us come in there to drag your sorry carcasses out.”
I know he’s baiting me. Trying to get me to do something stupid. Make a mistake. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a beat to still my fear and calm myself.
“Come on out, Raven,” Villa presses. “Don’t make us come in.”
“You know I can kill you all,” I shout back.
“Yeah. Antagonizing him is a good idea,” Elliot says.
“I know you’ll try,” Villa mocks. “But we’ve made up some new toys since you’ve been away. I’m kind of hoping you’ll give us a chance to use them.”
I grit my teeth and rack my brain, trying to find a way out of this mess. All I can come up with is taking our chances and fighting our way out. It’s not the best plan—hell, it’s not even really a plan—but at the moment, it’s all I’ve got.
“What are you thinking?” Zane asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“We fight, then,” he says, almost sounding excited by the prospect.
“Not yet. Wait. Just wait,” I say.
As I stand there, continuing to ponder the situation, I hear a loud popping noise. A moment later, a canister flies in through the door and starts to spew smoke. I grab it in a flow of air and launch it back across the street at Villa and his men before I step into the doorway and fire off a thick weave of fire for good measure. A grim smile touches my lips as I watch the black clad fighters scrambling out of the way. It hits the wall on the far side of the street with a loud bang, sending a shower of brick fragments and debris raining down over them.
I hear Villa laughing across the street, acting like this is a joke. Like this is some big game. The urge to go out there and hit him with everything I have is overwhelming. I might die in the process, but knowing I took that asshole out might just make it worth the cost.
Elliot grabs hold of my arm and when I turn to him, he shakes his head. “Don’t do it, Raven,” he says. “Don’t you dare leave us like that. He’s not worth it. He’s certainly not worth losing you to.”
I grit my teeth but back down. He’s right. As satisfying as it would be to watch his body melt under a column of fire, leaving my boys like that makes the cost too high. I shake my head, knowing I let my emotions—my anger—get the best of me at times.
“Tell you what, Raven. I’m a fair guy. You come out now, I’ll let your boyfriends go. On my word as an officer, I’ll let them walk. I only want you,” Villa calls. “I didn’t travel all the way out here to go home empty-handed and I intend to get you back to the Pit one way or another. So, why not come willingly and ensure the freedom and safety of the men you love?”
“He’s lying,” Elliot hisses.
“I actually don’t believe he is,” Zane says. “Men like him… they would rather die than besmirch their honor. It’s pathological with them. He would absolutely let us go if Raven turned herself over to him.”
I turn and look at him. “Are you serious right now?”
Zane chuckles. “I’m not saying you should. In fact, I’m telling you quite the opposite,” he says. “I was just stating a fact.”
I roll my eyes, a small laugh escaping me. I hear Villa’s words echoing through my head, though, and I can’t help but consider them. Knowing that my boys will be safe if I turn myself in… it’s tempting. I don’t want to leave them, don’t want to lose them. But I don’t want them to die, either. And if we can’t figure a way out of this, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
But then I hear his voice again, listen to his words, and I pause…
“Oh, yeah,” I murmur. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” Elliot asks.
“Travel,” I say, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. “He said he traveled here.”
“Right. He would’ve had to, coming all the way from South Dakota and all,” Elliot says.
“No, you dork. Not travel the way he did,” I say. “Travel the way we did.”
Zane and Elliot both cock their heads and look at me. Slowly, realization dawns on both of their faces and they smile, nodding enthusiastically. Traveling. It’s a power I used once, back when we were prisoners, but one I haven’t used since. One I’d forgotten about, quite frankly.
“I need a little time to remember this,” I say. “Elliot, can you buy us some time? Keep Villa and his men distracted for a few?”
“On it.”
Elliot steps over to the doorway and immediately unleashes a couple of thick balls of fire. Villa and his men must have been creeping closer. The crackle of gunfire erupts and Elliot ducks back behind the doorway. I step closer to Gray and close my eyes, trying to recall how I did it before. I think back to the time I Traveled us from one spot to another… and I’ve got it. All of the pieces fall into place in my head.
“Elliot, give them another couple of blasts,” I call to him. “Keep them busy.”
He does as I ask, launching half a dozen fireballs, then dashes over to me. The three of us kneel down and link hands. Zane and I both grab hold of one of Gray’s thick legs, though he continues to thrash and writhe beneath us. I channel a weave of Spirit and envelop us all in it. Then, I form a picture in my mind of our suite back in Meridian. I hold the image of it firmly, recalling every detail, and then pour a thick weave of Spirit into all of us.
I’m dimly aware of black-clad men bursting through the doorway. I can feel them training their weapons on us and I hear them shouting. It sounds muffled, though. Distorted, as if I’m hearing their voices from underwater. My heart racing, I pour one last blast of energy into the weave just as I hear the chattering of gunfire, and a pressure starts building around us. And then, the sensation of falling from a great height fills my belly. I feel weightless. Like I’m freefalling…
* * * * *
The breath explodes from my throat as if I’ve been holding it forever. I slump to the ground, drawing in deep lungfuls of air. Flopping onto my back, I find myself staring up at the familiar ceiling of our hotel suite. I’m disoriented. Shaken. But alive.
I quickly get to my feet and find both Zane and Elliot already standing, both of them looking at themselves as if shocked they’re not filled with bullet holes. The hulking form of Gray, still bound by my weaves of air, is lying prone on the ground between us all. He glares at me balefully, like he wants to tear the heart from my chest.
My vision shimmers with tears as I reach down and lay a hand on his cheek, only to have him flinch away from me like my touch burns him. I recoil and clasp my hands in front of my mouth. He struggles against my weaves, his face etched with hate, and I feel my heart breaking inside of me.
“What did they do to you?” I whisper.
“It worked,” Elliot says, sounding relieved and surprised.
“Good call,” Zane adds with a smile. “I had forgotten about your ability to Travel. I’m very glad you remembered.”
“Thank God I remembered it.”
We all lapse into silence as our attention shifts to the man on the ground at our feet. Gray’s voice is muffled behind the weave
I wrapped around his head, but judging by the look in his eye, I’m sure I don’t want to hear what he has to say right now, anyway. He looks like he hates me and my heart is suddenly lanced by pain.
“What did they do to you, Gray?” I ask. “What in the hell did they do to you?”
“I hate to be the one to ask the question,” Elliot starts, “but what are we going to do with him?”
I frown. “We’re going to have to figure out what they did to him,” I say. “And then find a way to undo it.”
“I’ll call Dora,” Zane says. “We need a secure room in the med facility.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
“And after that?” Elliot asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Villa
“How did this happen?” I rage. “How did we let them slip through our fingers? Again?”
Soames shakes his head. “I don’t know, sir,” he says. “She has an ability we weren’t aware of.”
“We should have been.”
“Agreed, sir,” Soames says. “But these supers have so many different abilities, we never know what they are until we see them. Obviously, Raven McCabe hadn’t shown that ability before.”
“Soames, it is your job to know these things. That is what I tasked you with,” I growl.
Soames’ eyes shift to the floor for a moment, but then he raises them again and tilts his chin upward.
“I understand that, sir. And we are putting together a database that tracks all the abilities of the difference species,” he says. “But until we know that an ability exists, we cannot—”
“Shut up, Soames,” I say, my voice cold.
“Yes, sir.”
The man bristles but manages to hold himself in check. He’s a proud man, one who does not like being called on the carpet like this. But this debacle is on him. His job is to get me the intel I need to mount a proper mission. If we’d known Raven had the ability to teleport herself and the others around her, the mission to DC wouldn’t have ended in such a fruitless clusterfuck.
I hate failure. More than that, I hate those who make excuses for it.
“Get out,” I snarl. “I’m sick of listening to excuses.”
“Yes, sir.”
Soames retreats from my office, closing the door quietly behind him. I pour myself a drink and swallow it down in one go, then pour another one. Standing at the window of my office, I look down at the arena floor. I watch a couple of techs as they work with a teenage girl.
They’re attaching something to her arm, and when they have it strapped on, I see their lips moving but can’t hear what they’re saying. I assume they’re issuing commands to her. The girl shakes her head and I can see the tears racing down her cheeks. One of the techs steps forward and issues the command again, sterner this time, judging by the look on her face.
The teen girl steps forward and I watch as she channels her power. Fire. She unleashes a thick column of flames that crackle with blue energy at a standing brick target. The blast hits the column and it explodes in a hail of fire and brick. The blast is so strong, it vibrates through the inch-thick glass. It’s impressive.
“I could have used her in DC,” I mutter.
I see the techs noting some things down and discussing the test results with each other. They look pleased with themselves. I’m guessing they figured out a way to tap into the girl’s other abilities to make her attacks all the more devastating.
My gaze turns from the techs to the girl, my curiosity piqued. But then I see the girl’s face shift as she stares at her hands. Her expression morphs from one of surprise to one of pure hate, a snarl upon her lips.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter.
I see it happening, but I can’t reach the door to the catwalk outside my office fast enough. The teen girl whirls and unleashes a column of that crackling fire at the two techs, and they’re incinerated instantly. Even from up here on the catwalk, a wave of heat from the flames below washes over me.
The doors to the arena open and before the guards can even step through, the girl is blasting them with fire. I watch in horror as men stagger through the doorway, their bodies aflame. The screams of agony that echo around me are horrifying. Worse than any battlefield I’ve ever been on.
The door across the way from me flies open and Jenni steps out. Her eyes widen when she sees what’s happening and she immediately channels her power, sending a weave down to wrap the girl up. She struggles and writhes, and I can see her trying to draw power, but Jenni’s weave snuffs it all out.
More guards pour into the room, stumbling past their comrades who lay on the ground in burning piles, the stench of cooking meat and death heavy in the air around us. As she’s surrounded by my men, the girl snarls and tries to break the weaves but can’t. She lets out a scream of pure frustration and rage.
“Shoot her,” I say. “She’s too dangerous to keep around.”
“She’s under control, Colonel,” Jenni calls to me. “She’s no longer a threat. Just put the collar back on her.”
“Shoot her, Sergeant Chambers,” I shout. “You have your orders.”
“No! She’s just a little girl, Colonel,” Jenni screams. “She is no longer a threat. You don’t have to—”
“That girl just murdered four people, Jenni,” I shout at her, then turn to the men assembled on the floor. “Those two burning heaps you ran past to get in here? Your squad mates. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Colonel, I—”
“Sergeant Chambers. You have your orders.”
A man on the floor below looks up at me. A former Marine Recon, he’s got dark hair shot through with gray, and a large, bushy mustache and beard. He’s a hard man who knows how to follow orders. Or, at least, I thought he did. Even he seems to hesitate to carry out this very simple command.
With a sigh, I pull my own sidearm and fire two shots. I’ve always been a crack shot and I rarely miss what I’m aiming for, and true to form, my bullets find their mark. The girl twitches with the impact of each bullet that enters her skull and bursts out the other side in a spray of red.
I hear a choked cry and look over to Jenni, who’s staring at the girl, tears streaming down her face. She cuts her weaves and the girl falls to the floor, a deep crimson pool spreading out around her. The men on the floor look from her, to me, then back again. Some of them are grinning, but others–including Sergeant Chambers—look sour.
“You didn’t need to do that, Colonel,” Jenni says, her voice wavering.
“This is my facility, Jenni. I decide what is necessary and what is not,” I snap back at her. “Also, who.”
I holster my sidearm and glare darkly at her for a moment before I look down at the men on the floor again.
“Clean that up,” I call.
I walk back into my office and slam the door behind me.
* * * * *
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier,” I say.
Jenni stands stiffly near her workbench, her lab coat pulled tight, almost protectively, around her. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and there’s an angry, defiant set to her jaw.
“I see no need to discuss it,” she says. “As you said, this is your facility and you’ll do as you please here.”
Having spoken her piece, Jenni turns back to the project on the table before her. She turns a small circular object over in her hand and focuses on it, studying it closely; more to shut me out and ignore me than anything, I suspect.
“The girl was a threat,” I explain. “And we have to maintain order here. That requires a zero-tolerance policy for—”
“I had her under control, Colonel,” she cuts me off. “She was just a little girl, for God’s sake.”
“She was a killer,” I hiss.
I feel my face growing warm with anger, my muscles tensing and my jaw clenching. Jenni has never spoken out like this before and when I look at her, it’s clear that she’s more upset than I�
�ve ever seen her. It’s true, she’s never been a fan of my tactics. She is a gentle soul and doesn’t like the idea of bloodshed at all, but she’s been committed to this cause. Until now.
“Are you having second thoughts about what we’re doing here, Jenni?”
She pauses in what she’s doing but says nothing for a long moment. She seems to be organizing her thoughts, so I give her the time she needs.
“What I’m second-guessing are these brutal tactics, Colonel,” she finally says. “I am second-guessing the need to slaughter people… little girls among them.”
“These people, as you call them, are animals,” I spit. “They’re dangerous. Threats to the world as we know it. If we do not deal with them harshly, we’ll find ourselves in cages like we’ve got here.”
“Or, if you don’t hunt and kill them, maybe, just maybe, what you’ll find are people who just want to live in peace,” she counters. “People who maybe, if they’re not hunted and killed, will turn out to not be the threats you believe them to be.”
“They’re killers. Beasts,” I growl. “They’re terrorists.”
“All of them?” she responds. “Even me?”
I open my mouth to reply, but falter. I reconsider my words and take a moment to let the anger in my voice fade. The last thing I want to do is alienate Jenni. She has been invaluable to me in this fight. But I see her changing, her attitude shifting. I see her allegiance to this cause - and to me - starting to waver. It’s something I never expected from her.
“Of course, I don’t view you that way,” I say, trying to mollify her. “You are not like them. You’re not a mindless beast.”
“Neither was that girl,” she retorts. “I spent a lot of time with her. Wanted to groom her to help me here. She was smart. Compassionate. Caring. And now she’s dead.”
