Elites: The Supers of Project 12

by Angel Lawson

  Three times he slams into the door—or what he thinks is a door—twice hitting the frame and popping his shoulder out of joint. He places both hands flat on the door and traces the outline, memorizing the space. He’s got to get Astrid out of there. God knows what kind of mind games the prick is playing on her.

  Using the force of his body, Quinn moves to a running start. There are three steps he can’t see between him and the door but he’s counted them down, measured them. He thinks. He hopes.

  Pushing off the dirt, he takes a leap over the steps, pounding onto the wooden boards of the porch. Just as he throws his body against the door the fake image vanishes as quickly as it came, turning the house back into the dumpy shack.

  His shoulder cracks against the wood, finally nailing the right spot and the jam splinters, freeing the lock and door latch with it.

  Quinn flies into the house full speed, barely able to hold himself upright but he stops hard when Astrid falls into view. She’s standing over the restrained man, pulling off her gloves.

  There’s no mistaking the smile on the man’s face or the appreciative way he looks at Astrid’s body. What all had he missed, being trapped outside?

  There’s no time to ask because Astrid touches the man’s cheek with her bare hands, a feat, something that declares his danger and menace. Quinn waits, breath held to see her response. What she hears and sees in the man’s head.

  He should be more surprised, more taken aback, when she finally looks at him and says, “There’s nothing there, just like you.”

  And her words slam home.

  They’ve found another survivor of Project 12.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Astrid

  “Nothing?” Peter asks, looking between Astrid and Quinn. “Nothing what?”

  She drops her hands and slips her gloves back on, pulling them tight over her elbows. Astrid doesn’t release him otherwise. She walks over to Quinn and notices the pulsing of the blood under his skin. He’s bruised and sweaty. She’ll have to ask him what happened later.

  In a quiet voice she says, “He says he didn’t kill Atticus. I tried to read him and…well, you saw.”

  Quinn looks over her shoulder. “He’s one of us.”

  “I think so.”

  “He fucks with things—the house—it got weird out there.”

  “Trust me,” she says, picking splinters of wood off his shoulder. “It got weird in here, too.”

  If Peter is part of Project 12, he shouldn’t be able to use his abilities against her and Quinn. Something’s off.

  “I have no idea.” Astrid glances back at Peter, who is sitting quietly in the chair. A strand of his blonde hair falls in his eye when he raises his eyebrow in response. He’s definitely a weird guy. A handsome guy. He’s got a smart mouth, but he also didn’t make an attempt to hurt her. If anything, he just wants to be left alone.

  She walks back over to Peter. Both men watch her every move, their emotions building and churning, clouding the room with their warring scents. She ignores them and the way their hormones affect her and she stops before him. His knees brush against her and she says, “You said before that you just want us out of your way. To do what?”

  “I have a score to settle with James.”

  Astrid crosses her arms over her chest. “What about?”

  “It’s personal.”

  Ha. Join the club.

  “Did you know about us before that night at the warehouse?” she asks. Where is his mentor? How long has he been living here? The questions are endless, but she doesn’t think she’ll get much out of him.

  He jerks his head at Quinn. “Him? No. But I knew about you because of the thing with Tink.”

  “Other than that, we’ve never crossed paths before?”

  “No.” Something flickers in his eyes. A blip of a memory perhaps, but nothing solid. His heart remains steady. He’s not lying, for all she can tell.

  “Then what’s your plan? How do you expect to settle your score with James?”

  A cruel smile spreads across his pretty lips. “I’m going to take him down, brick by brick. He’ll pay for the lives he’s ruined—the ones he’s taken and tossed in the gutter. The ones that are buried underground.”

  “You’re going to kill him?” Quinn asks from across the room.

  Peter shakes his head. “Death would be a mercy. I’m not a forgiving man.”

  “Then we should work together. We want the same thing.” It’s a good idea, and will hopefully bring him in closer to her and Quinn. Get him to a safer place—working with them and not against him.

  “No,” Peter says. “That’s not my style, but thanks for the offer.”

  Unsure where to go next, she looks at Quinn for help. His eyes latch to hers—they’ll have to make a choice. Force Peter to come or—

  “Look, can we go talk this over? Back at the gym. Get you out of those binds?”

  “You mean these?” he asks, yanking his hands free. Were they ever bound?

  He stands and with the wave of his hand the sound of wind, loud as a tornado, rolls their way. Wind batters the side of the house. The roof shakes in reply. Before she can react he’s grabbed her by the neck and pulls at the snug mask on her face. She hears the faintest click and across her vision comes a screen—graphics, facial recognition software scrolls down the side.

  “What did you do?” she cries, batting at the mask.

  “Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours,” he says, but she’s completely overwhelmed by the visuals on her mask. Her other senses tell her Peter has fled. She looks around the room and the screen displays a photo of Quinn with words underneath:

  Quinn McRae: Project 12. Ability: Electrical Manipulation. Status: Elite.

  “Astrid,” Quinn says, ripping himself from whatever manipulation Peter left him to deal with. “He’s gone. Took off out the door. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “It’s my mask. It’s…it’s like a computer. But…” She fights with the mask and just as she’s about to remove it a smooth, calm voice speaks close to her ear, “Chill out, Agent Echo. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Quinn

  Astrid doesn’t chill out—or whatever it was the mask told her to do. She rips it off her face and flings it at Quinn. He turns it over in his hands, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

  “Let’s get back to the Lair,” he suggests.

  She doesn’t fight, probably because the house is still shuddering like it will fall at any moment. But she also doesn’t speak the whole way back to the Elite building. They walk in silence—running at times—eager to get off the streets. A lot happened tonight, between Peter breaking into the house and then bolting on them. He’s most likely one of the twelve. But if Astrid read him right, which is a crapshoot in this situation, he has no memory of either of them and he wants nothing to do with them.

  They enter the back door, passing through the security systems that obviously need to be upgraded on the private floors. He’ll look into that later tonight. Right now, as they walk into the underground office, he flips on the metal lamp hanging over Atticus’ work table.

  “That was crazy,” Astrid says. “The whole thing was out of control. What the heck with Peter and that mind-bending stuff? I mean, I knew there was something to him. I saw it that night at the warehouse but I really wasn’t sure. But the fact he doesn’t react to my touch? Just like you? Too much of a coincidence.”

  “You said you thought he was telling the truth. That he’d never seen us before.”

  “That’s the vibe I got off him.” She sighs and leans her palms on the worktable. “At least I think so. You guys make it a challenge, to be sure.”

  Quinn glances up at that comment, knowing it’s a jab at whatever has been brewing between them. But he lets it go and focuses on the task before him.

  The light is bright and he lays the mask flat on the table. It’s made of the same leather as their S
uper Suits. Using a magnifying glass on an extending arm, Quinn studies the backside, skimming his fingers over the edge.

  Sure enough, there’s a very small button under the fabric. He lifts it up for Astrid to see. “What about yours?” she asks.

  Quinn’s mask is still securely in place. He runs his finger in the same place and feels the tiny bump. “I’ve got one too.”

  Astrid pulls hers back over her face, securing it over her eyes. “On the count of three…”

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three,” Quinn says, both of them pressing the button. The screen implanted in the mask comes to life and an automated voice echoes in his ears. “Welcome, Agent Charger.”

  As quickly as he can, he scans the information on the screen. Temperature, body heat, size and proximity. It’s information overload and when he looks up, just as Astrid described, the computer pulls up a photo of her masked face with her secret identity and details underneath.

  “Holy shit.”

  “I know,” Astrid agrees. “I didn’t see this page in the manual Atticus left.”

  “Me either.”

  “You’re wrong,” a male’s voice says. Quinn holds his hands out and looks for an intruder. The voice keeps speaking. “Both of you. The manual for the domino eye and ear piece was left on the digital manual under the accessories file.”

  Quinn feels the charge of energy in the air seconds before the large computer screen on the wall behind him comes to life. The Project 12 emblem appears on the screen in black and red.

  “Can you hear that?” Quinn asks, pointing to his head.

  Astrid nods.

  Astrid stands, also looking for whoever turned it on. The voice in his ear says, “Of course she can hear me. I’m plugged into both of your systems. I have been for weeks. I’m also plugged in the overall computer as well as everything else in the building.” The image on the wall screen changes and an avatar of a man pops up—about their age—looking into a camera. He has Asian features. Strong cheekbones. Dark eyes. His hair is a bit of a frumpy mess. He has a on a T-Shirt with a dopey ghost on the front.

  “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to find me,” he says, looking a little smug. “Imagine my amusement of it happening in the middle of a dramatic caper.”

  “Did you just say ‘caper’?” Astrid asks.

  Quinn jumps in with a question of his own. “Are you a super villain or something?”

  “You think Atticus would give complete and total access to his systems to a villain? I’m your ally, dude. I have been all along. You were just too clueless and too busy flirting with each other to notice.”

  Astrid looks at Quinn but neither reply to that pointed jab.

  “Okay,” she says, pulling off her mask and looking at the big screen. “Obviously Atticus had more going on with all of this than we ever knew. But if we’re supposed to work with one another, we need some serious transparency. You obviously know way more about us than we know about you.”

  “Fair enough,” he says.

  “So who are you, what is your name and how are you involved in this?”

  “My name is Casper.”

  Quinn moves to the computer and quickly pulls up the page referring to the other members of Project 12. “Cyberkinesis. You’re on the list.”

  “I made the list, dumbass.”

  Astrid snorts, stifling a laugh behind her hand. “I think I like him.”

  Quinn shoots her a glare and it only makes her smile more. He ignores her and wracks his brain. “I don’t remember you from the group home.”

  “Sure you do. Nerdy kid. Holed up in my room all the time.”

  Astrid’s eyes light up in memory. “I remember him—you. Mostly hearing you in there and Miss Rosalie trying to get you to come out. How did you survive? I mean, you never left the house unless you went for a doctor visit.”

  “When the doctors did their tests on me, they gave me access to their computers so they could see what I could do. Stupid mistake.” The avatar moves when he speaks and even in cartoon form, it’s clear he thinks they were idiots for allowing that. “I hacked the system and got a view of everything going on with the project. Of course, I was a kid and it didn’t mean much.”

  “How did you survive the explosion?” she asks.

  “An incoming message to the Project directors alerted me. I still don’t know if they planned it or just found out about it. It didn’t give me much time but I did tell Rosalie and she got everyone she could out of the house.”

  Quinn frowns when he hears this, considering his own escape from the group home. Having been focused on the aftermath, he never thought much about how he got out. He does recall sitting at the kitchen table working on school work. The next thing he remembers, it was all gone, everything, and Holden was there, taking him away.

  “Who else survived?” Quinn asks.

  “You two, me, Peter obviously, whose real name is—”

  “Owen,” Astrid interjects. “That was Owen. I remember him. Did you know he was alive?”

  “Not until you did. What was it that tipped you off?”

  “Well, the manipulation—I’d gotten a hint of what he could do when we were kids. But confirmation came when he lacked an echo.” She glances at Quinn. “It’s only happened once before and well, it sort of confirms the whole unable to harm one another thing.”

  “Interesting,” Casper says.

  “What about Junior?” Quinn asks, looking at the chart. “Peak Human Condition is his ability. What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s dangerous as fuck. Strong, self-healing, smart, fast…everything,” he says. “Like it says in the notes, we lost track of him a few years ago in Brazil.”

  “Anyone else?” Astrid asks, looking at Quinn. “What about Devin? Don’t you remember him? He could make fire.”

  Quinn nods at the memory.

  “It’s possible he’s out there. There was one more, at least, but Atticus and I were never successful in pinpointing any locations.”

  “Do you have any information on Demetria? She was my roommate.”

  “No, sorry.”

  “So there’s more of us. Maybe six,” Astrid says.

  “Maybe,” Casper agrees. “But the fact you’re all converging right now, in this same place, isn’t good.”

  “Why is that?” Quinn asks, but the same nagging feeling that he’s had in his chest for weeks now comes to life.

  “We’re being hunted,” Casper says. “Starting with our mentors, who died trying to protect our secrets. Whoever it is hasn’t been able to find at least four of us. But now? It’s almost too easy.”

  Astrid’s eyes widen at his theory. “You think we’re being hunted?”

  “I know we are. And so did Atticus and Holden. And they killed them for it.”

  “Who?” Quinn asks. “Who killed them? Do you know?”

  “I know that they never stopped looking for us. The doctors and the military. Before, we were just an abstract idea. But now? We’re full adults with incredible powers that our mentors helped cultivate and develop.”

  “No. That’s crazy. James had someone kill Atticus because we were on to him,” Astrid says, but what Casper is telling them fits into the theory he’s had all along.

  “So what do we do?” Quinn asks Casper.

  “We’re not going to let those fuckers take us again, that’s for damn sure.”

  “How?” Astrid asks.

  “First, we’re going to find the others. Then we’ll fight back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Astrid

  “I searched his house,” Quinn says, walking into the apartment. He hangs his jacket neatly on the hook by the door. “I don’t think he’s been back again.”

  It’s been twenty-four hours since they escaped Owen’s house and discovered two survivors of Project 12: Owen and Casper. Astrid had classes to teach and reports to fill out for the recruitment program. She’s only just returned to the apartme
nt with a box of pizza delivered from down the block.

  “You want some?” she asks, mouth full.

  He makes a face. “Uh, no. I’m good.”

  “What? Scared of a few carbs? Worried it will ruin your abs?”

  He lifts up the hem of his shirt and shrugs. “I don’t see you complaining about them.”

  He’s got her there. Damn, Quinn is hot. The more time they spend together the more aware of it she becomes. He goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a protein drink. She shoves another bite of pizza in her mouth.

  “So Owen vanished. What do you think we should do next?” she asks.

  “Well, he seemed pretty focused on taking down James.” He sits on the couch. Harry emerges from Astrid’s bedroom and jumps on his lap. She’s pretty sure Quinn’s been feeding him cheese on the sly, winning him over. Traitor. “I suspect if we find James and wherever he’s operating out of right now, we’ll find Owen.”

  Astrid is itching to get back into her suit but there’s been no particular reason to take the risk. The police scanner hasn’t offered any leads and Jensen has not called. There’s nothing new on Atticus’ murder. Overall, they’re at a dead end.

  She tosses the piece of pizza she’s eating into the box and gulps down half a bottle of Mountain Dew. “Come on,” she says, running her hand over Harry’s back. Quinn moves the cat over to the cushion and follows her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Let’s see if our little ghost is as good as he says he is.”

  *

  Casper is no help at all.

  “Off the radar. All of them. You probably spooked the hell out of them when you blew their factory up.”

  “Great,” Astrid mutters sliding into the desk chair. “Another dead end.”

  Quinn stands and paces the room. “I have an idea. Why don’t we do a little training in our suits? I know there are a lot of capabilities built into the system I haven’t tried out yet. Particularly the ones involving Casper.”