by Tasha Black
Hands trembling, he tried Dalton’s cell.
No answer.
“West, is something wrong?” Mallory asked.
“Vince Palma snatched Sean Cooper,” West whispered.
“Vince?” she asked. “I though he was dead.”
“Apparently not.”
“But why?”
“Sean’s prosthetic is the only way for Palma to get the tech he failed to get from me. He’s trying to backdoor us, and he’s going to hurt that little boy in the process. Is there tracking in Sean’s prosthetic?”
“Oh my god,” Mallory whispered, her hand over her mouth.
“Is there tracking?” West growled.
“We took it out before we gave it to him,” she replied.
“Why?” West asked, trying to contain his fury.
“It would be a pretty extreme invasion of privacy to leave it in there, wouldn’t it?” she retorted.
“Did you take mine out?” he asked.
“Well, technically, yours still belong to Med Pros,” she explained carefully.
“What about the stuff that was in the lab before? Can we track that?” he asked, trying not to think about the fact that Mallory had the ability to track him.
“We never bothered, it was all lost in the fire,” she said.
“Humor me.”
To her credit, Mallory didn’t argue. She bent over her computer immediately.
A few swipes and taps later and a simple city map appeared. She entered a bit of data and a strong ping immediately appeared over Worthington Enterprises.
“That’s you, just like I told you,” Mallory explained. “Nothing else.”
Damn.
As they watched, another ping flashed faintly near the bottom corner of the screen, in the section of the city known as the Scar.
“Wait. What’s that?” Mallory asked, already zooming in.
“That’s it,” West said, swiping his phone. “That’s where he is.”
“Are you calling the police?” Mallory asked.
West shook his head, tapping Dalton’s contact again on his phone.
“Palma will see them coming a mile away,” he said.
Dalton’s phone rang and rang and went to voicemail again.
He texted the location to Cordelia along with a message:
GET DALTON HERE NOW!
There was no time.
The tracking signal was weak. They could lose it at any moment.
West was going to have to take care of this himself.
But Vince still had the exo-suit. He remembered how their last confrontation ended.
He needed an edge.
“Mallory,” he said calmly. “I need you to remove the safeties on my gear.”
“I thought we agreed—” her voice was a note higher than before.
“It’s not a request,” he replied.
36
Cordelia stood in the hall outside Jessica’s room for a moment trying to decide how to tell her sister about Sean. She would hear about it on the news soon if she hadn’t already.
“You know I can hear you out there, right?” Jess’s voice came through the door.
Cordelia took a deep breath and entered.
The room was small, but it had a large window over the courtyard behind the house. Every inch of the walls was covered with superhero posters.
Most teenagers would have put those away. On the other hand, Jess wasn’t most teenagers.
Jess sat on the bed, a Batman comic in her hands.
“What’s up?” Jess asked.
“Sean Cooper was kidnapped,” Cordelia said, figuring it didn’t help to sugar coat it.
“What?” Jess asked. “Why?”
“We don’t really know. I’m sure he’ll be found,” Cordelia said, wishing she believed it. “The police are on this, the FBI will probably be called in too. They will bring him home.”
“No they won’t,” Jess said flatly.
“Jess!”
“I’m not some little kid who doesn’t know what’s going on in the world, you know. I watch the news. I see what’s happening to this city. It’s about time someone did something about it.”
“What are you talking about?” Cordelia asked.
“I’m tired of being stuck,” she said. “That’s what I’m talking about. I want high tech, super-powered legs. I want to be faster and stronger. Your boyfriend has a chance to be a real hero, but he doesn’t have the guts.”
“He’s not—” Cordelia began.
“—A hero?”
“—my boyfriend,” Cordelia finished.
Jess rolled her eyes, but the pull of her mouth was pure pain.
“I’m sick of watching everyone waste the opportunities they’re given,” Jess said. “If I had those things, you better believe I’d use them for more than moping around feeling sorry for myself.”
Cordelia’s heart ached. She reached for her sister’s hand.
Jess pulled it away.
“We’ve talked about this,” she said softly. “You will be on the list as soon as the lab is up and running again, Jess.”
“Then at least someone around here will be able to stand up for themselves,” Jess said.
“Jessica!”
“What?” she replied. “West is too afraid of failing to do what he needs to do. You’re too busy trying to heal the world to actually participate in it. It’s like you people have these legs that will take you anywhere, and all you use them for is running away.”
“That’s not fair,” Cordelia said.
“Go on,” Jess said with a smirk. “Please explain to me about how life isn’t fair.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Cordelia said. “I’ve sacrificed a lot.”
“I know you have, Cord. But no one ever asked you to,” Jess said coldly.
Cordelia tried to swallow down her bitterness. The lost dreams, the lost career, the lost everything, and all for Jess. And Jess didn’t even get it. And she didn’t have to. That’s not why Cordelia had done it.
Jess was silent for a moment too. Then she leaned in and put her hand over Cordelia’s.
“I appreciate all you’ve done for us. And I am lucky to have a sister like you. I get that. I’m grateful for you, but I used to be proud of you. You were the first person in our family to go to college. You had an awesome job where you made a difference. You were a hero to me. Now you get some rich guy his coffee.”
She looked away.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have responsibility,” Cordelia tried to explain.
“Cord, I love you. But I’d like to go back to feeling proud of you.”
“What are you saying?” Cordelia asked.
“I think it’s time for you to go. By the power vested in me as the only sane member of our family, I absolve you of your responsibility. You can have your life back,” Jess said in a formal voice.
“I can’t do that. How would you and mom—” Cordelia began.
“—Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got a job,” Jess said nonchalantly.
“A job?” Cordelia asked. “Doing what?”
“Exotic dancer,” Jess said, with one delicate eyebrow arched. “I start as soon as they finish putting in the access ramp.”
“Shut up!” Cordelia cried, walloping her little sister with a pillow.
Jessica squealed and grabbed a pillow of her own.
“You are in big trouble!” she giggled.
37
West felt like himself again.
He was on the motorcycle ride of his life, flying toward the Scar, his mind churning with fear about what could be happening to Sean.
But his body… Oh, his body sang with rightness like it always did when he rode. Like he was one with the machine.
And in an odd way, that made perfect sense now. His bike, a custom Vyrus with a modified Ducati engine had a carbon fiber and titanium body. Just like West.
He was going dangerously fast, weaving in and out of traffic and praying
not to attract the attention of the police. He could barely hear the blare of horns behind him over the purr of the engine.
The lights of the city began to fade away as he continued his trek. As the lights faded he took more risks, going faster and harder.
By the time the road began to slope into the Scar he was taking even more risks - cutting across sidewalks and charging the wrong way down one-way streets. He knew the cops here had better things to do than worry about bad drivers.
The city was a wine bottle shaped peninsula that stretched into the blue waters of Lake Trinity, with downtown Glacier City at its wider bottom.
The glacier for which it was named had dug a deep scar up the center of the land in the last ice age.
This low lying area comprised the poorest part of the city, its denizens sharing their crevice with the river that ran in the original track of the glacier. Between the recent dip in the economy, and the unpredictable flooding due to the surge in meltwater from the glacier, the Scar was somewhere between a ghetto and a natural disaster.
A huge bridge stretched over the chasm. A marvel of engineering, it spanned far more than just the river. Instead, it joined the far east and west ridges of the island, allowing the citizens of the wealthier suburbs to travel back and forth without ever witnessing the poverty and hopelessness of the Scar.
It also meant the unfortunate citizens below literally lived under the shadow of the bridge - like trolls in a fairy tale.
The lowlands that comprised the Scar ended at the neck of the bottle-shaped city.
Farther up the neck of the bottle was the old Glacier City Zoo. Beyond its rusted gates, capping the bottle, lay the glacier that had given the city its name and its unusual topography, forming a barrier of ice that cut off Glacier City from the mountains beyond, effectively making it more of an island than a peninsula.
Traversing the Scar, West flew past things he never saw in his life above.
Homeless men warmed their hands by a fire. He thought that only happened in the movies. Teenagers roamed in bands through the streets.
Deep potholes threatened to overturn the Vyrus, which had been designed for the racetrack, not the rough terrain of unmaintained streets.
West slowed down in the area directly under the bridge. From there he could see the zoo, and the glacier, shimmering in the distant moonlight.
Cordelia would be beside herself when she realized he had come here alone.
But Jess would probably think it was pretty cool. He was like a costumed crusader from one of her comics. West pictured the look she would have on her face when he told her the story.
She was going to raise a lot of hell once she got a set of legs under her.
He focused on the task ahead. Palma was up to something. First, he’d tried to steal the plans for the new Med Pros tech. He would have sold it to the highest bidder in a heartbeat, which would have shut the whole operation down. West had stopped him, and almost died to protect the future of kids like Jessica.
But what was Vince’s game this time?
Besides West, Sean Cooper was the only person in the world to receive a prosthetic from Med Pros. And no one knew where the hell West was, leaving Sean in a unique situation.
West had never dreamed the boy would be in danger. Everyone thought Palma died in the fire, and even if he hadn’t, kidnapping was a long way from corporate espionage.
Of course, so was murder by defenestration.
Was Vince still trying to acquire some tech for whatever buyer he had lined up? Was he really crazy enough to have taken a living sample?
West parked his bike in the alley behind a mom and pop convenience store. He figured he would be lucky if it was still there when he came back, but he didn’t have time to hunt for a better hiding spot.
He opted not to remove his helmet. He didn’t want to be recognized on his final approach. It could buy him some time.
He walked the last two blocks to his destination in silence. He was so far into the Scar that even the residents didn’t come out after dark. The only movement was the wind through the weeds growing between the curb and sidewalk.
Though they carried him steadfastly, his limbs didn’t feel any different than they did yesterday.
Had Mallory really taken his safeties off?
There was no time to worry about it.
At last he reached the location from the map. He crept from shadow to shadow as he approached.
An old painted sign hung on the front of the brick facade. Faded letters proclaimed Silver Family Butcher Shop. All the windows were boarded up. Except one.
West could just see a faint light coming from inside.
Staying tightly to the side of the building, he picked his way through the alley and around back to the loading dock.
Two large spotlights above the dock gave him pause until he saw that their globes were smashed and permanently darkened.
The metal door was partially raised, likely to allow a bit of fresh air in.
A pair of voices echoed from inside.
Vince, and he was talking with someone.
Definitely not Sean.
West lifted off the helmet and strained to hear, but he couldn’t make out words. Only the rhythm and pitch of an argument, and the distinct tones of the two voices involved.
Fleetingly he wondered if Mallory could do anything to amp up his hearing.
The voices grew louder, their cadence angrier.
West was going to have to move.
Where the hell was Dalton?
38
Dalton paced the floor of his quiet apartment.
Tonight was going to be bad, full moons often were.
His senses were on overload. He had stripped down to his boxers to avoid the maddening feel of his clothes brushing his skin.
Every sound crashed into him and bounced around his head like some horrible echo chamber.
A thousand smells assaulted his nostrils.
The soft bluish light of the moon through the window shimmered in the sheen of sweat on his scarred, dark skin.
His phone had rung.
West.
But he’d turned it off. He was no use to anyone tonight.
He concentrated on his breathing, trying to keep his racing heart from leaping out of his chest.
A knock on his door hit him like a punch. He winced, bringing his hands up to shield his ears.
Another knock. Louder.
He had to make it stop.
He raced to the door and threw it open, ready to silence whoever was on the other side.
Cordelia Cross nearly fell through the threshold.
Dalton grabbed her shoulders, and she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as they trailed down his bare chest.
He fought the unexpected urge to laugh. God, she was adorable. He was glad his muscled body could give her some pleasure.
“What’s up, Cord, are you okay?” he asked, pulling himself together as best he could.
She blinked, and then came back to his eyes.
“It’s West,” she said. “He’s gone after him alone.”
“Gone after who?” he asked.
“Palma,” she breathed.
“I thought he was dead,” Dalton said.
“Mallory called me.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “Sean Cooper was kidnapped today. West believes it was Palma who took him, and that he wants the tech in Sean’s arm. Mallory said West made her track the suit he was wearing the night of the fire. And it popped up on the map. And West just left to go after him.”
Jesus, West.
“We’ve gotta go,” Dalton told her as calmly as he could.
He pulled on his jeans, and grabbed his shirt from the floor by the window, shivering as the rays of moonlight caressed him.
He grabbed his gun on the way out the door and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. It was an amateur move, but there was no way he could deal with a holster right now.
“Are you okay?” Cordelia asked unc
ertainly.
“I’m not feeling well,” he told her truthfully. “It might be better if you drove.”
She nodded and they took off down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. A huge passenger van with a handicapped tag waited out front. She headed right for it
He slipped on his shirt, and dove into the passenger seat.
Cordelia turned the key and the engine started up with a roar. This wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous ride. But there was no time to quibble over details. West was in over his head.
As they pulled out, his stomach lurched.
His clothes already felt too tight. They were restrictive, almost painful. He tugged helplessly at his collar.
Cordelia looked over, but he couldn’t meet her gaze.
He rolled down the window, hoping the fresh air would clear his head.
The moon was hidden behind a cottony blanket of clouds now, but he could still feel its insistent pull.
He shouldn’t have come with Cordelia. He was endangering her. And he didn’t see how he could be a help to West.
But he had to try.
He closed his eyes and began counting his breaths. It was a technique he’d needed many times over the long months after West had saved him.
When he felt the van lurch to a stop, he opened his eyes again. He was in bad shape now. He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
It was dark, but his senses were so amped up it didn’t matter. He could see as well as if it had been noon.
The terrible smells hit him like a wave as he surveyed the outlines of the buildings in the most desperate section of the Scar.
A sign on the front of the nearest building indicated it had been a butcher’s shop. It reeked of death.
“Stay here,” he breathed to Cordelia. “Be ready to leave with West and the kid in a hurry if I can get them out.”
“What about—” she began.
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He was already at the front door.
It was held shut with a single board.
He peeled it of easily.
The stench doubled the instant he pushed the door open. It was like a living thing, its rot trying to push its way into his pores.
