Elites: The Supers of Project 12

by Angel Lawson

  She takes a step forward and James lifts his cane with the curved hook on the end from off the table. He holds it like a bat. “If I break the glass and even a drop of the liquid inside combines, the mixture will blow up three city blocks and bring the building down on top of us.”

  “Got it,” Quinn says. “You’re ready and willing to kill us all. Want to tell us why?”

  “Tell us, James,” Astrid says. “We’re willing to listen.”

  He strokes his long beard and his eyes brighten. Well played, Quinn thinks, recalling Owen’s comment that James is a narcissist. It’ll buy them time and help them figure out where Demetria falls in all of this. He waits in the doorway, looking for a chance to do something—anything—to take this madman down.

  “This isn’t about me,” he says, unconvincingly. “Demetria Holmes is behind this whole thing. You know who I’m talking about? The woman at WIND-E. The self-proclaimed savior of The Swamp.” He takes a quick breath. “She came to me two years ago. I thought it was to fund a grant I’d applied for. I’d created a new pharmaceutical to help with depression and fatigue. She’d heard about it and wanted to see it in action. I had a test group, off the record of course, of students willing to be part of my experiment.”

  “You experimented on students illegally? And who the hell is she?” Astrid asks.

  “Wendy—or you know, WIND-E. The kind of narcissist that names her business after herself. If that even is her real name.”

  It’s not. It’s all part of the fantasy she’s building. Her attempt at creating Neverland.

  “So she funded your project and now what? Stealing from the university after her little plan to fleece the citizens of Crescent City failed last night?”

  “No. I had nothing to do with that. I actually came here to get proof of what she’s trying to do. I have the documents and files and evidence to bring her down.”

  “You’re just as complicit,” Astrid says. She’s inching forward slowly and Quinn doesn’t like it. The chemicals are too volatile. One false move and they could all go up in flames. Her history of impulsive decisions doesn’t make him feel better.

  “My goal was to make a drug that made people feel better and I thought she’d help push my research along. It wasn’t until later that I realized she had a whole other plan. Something evil for her own gain. I’ve never been about killing people. That’s her plan, not mine.” He looks between us. “After last night, you know she’s not as she seems. She’s powerful and incredibly dangerous, not to mention fucking crazy.”

  The weight of his announcement lingers in the air. Astrid felt the anger in Demetria’s echo last night. But why? What happened to the girl from the group home? What happened after the explosion?

  Astrid swallows. It’s obvious she’s building up to something. A question. So big she’s having a hard time getting it out. James looks anxiously between the chemicals and Jensen, who hasn’t moved an inch, forcing her to ask, “Did you kill him?”

  “Who?”

  “Atticus.”

  “The guy from the gym?” He shakes his head.

  “Yes, you bastard. That night of the fire at the warehouse, did you shoot him?”

  “No.”

  “Why should I believe you?” she asks through clenched teeth.

  Quinn spies her hand on her hip. Countless weapons are within inches of her fingers. Breathe, he begs mentally.

  Before she can make another move or ask another question, James gasps and looks in terror at the cane in his hand. The handle no longer looks like a curved hook but the tail of a massive snake. The entire object shifts and a deadly hiss echoes in the room. Quinn jumps, terrified of the sound.

  “She’s here,” he whispers as the snake curves its long body and looks at him. It’s massive. “God help you all. Her plan is bigger than Pixie Dust. Bigger than taking out the rich and powerful or the evil men and women that created her. She wants to destroy the whole city.”

  The snake opens its jaw, revealing sharp venomous teeth. He hisses and lunges and the man--knowing it’s not real--jumps anyway, dropping it on the ground. Astrid doesn’t waste a second and she lunges for him. Quinn follows, eyes peeled for Demetria, but he sees nothing but the familiar flash of green outside the laboratory door.

  James realizes Astrid is on the move and sweeps his arms toward the chemicals. She hits the trigger on her cuff, spraying his hands with the sticky bonding agent she used on Tink. His hands are bound mid-air, the cane drops with a clatter to the ground—the snake is gone. The sound of a gunshot frightens them all--the blast ricocheting in the enclosed space, shattering Quinn’s hearing. Smoke plumes from Jensen’s gun and Astrid slides under the table to get to the man. Blood spreads across his chest, but he teeters, and Astrid holds him before he can fall over, igniting the chemicals. She looks at her partner and Jensen, who holds the still-smoking gun. “He’s dead.”

  Quinn walks over and is glad to see the cane is solid again. James is dead but there’s something in his limp, lifeless hand. He scoops it up and slips it in his pocket.

  “Are you sure?” Jensen asks, relaxing his stance for the first time since they’d entered the room.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Her voice is tight, holding back a wave of emotion. Blood stains the front of her suit. “Why—”

  Jensen walks off and pulls out his walkie-talkie. Ignoring Astrid, he shouts orders at his men.

  “You two better get out of here,” he says. “The cops will be swarming in a minute.”

  Quinn nods at Astrid and they leave the way they came. She shakes the entire time, a mixture of anger and confusion. He doesn’t ask her why. He knows. Jensen shot and killed James when he didn’t have to.

  And that opens up a bigger set of questions than he wants to answer right now.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Astrid

  Owen waits for them back at the Lair, feet up on the desk, reading a magazine on health and fitness. His eyes pause on the blood stain on the front of her uniform. The blood is sticky and the scent assaults her nose.

  “Thanks for the assist back there,” she says, knocking his feet off the desk. They fall to the floor with a heavy clomp.

  “You looked like you could use a little help.”

  She sighs and sits in the desk chair. “We did but…well, in the end it didn’t matter. James is dead.”

  Owen looks between her and Quinn. “And this is a problem? He was a drug dealing bastard. He could have been the one that killed my aunt. Or your mentor.”

  “Maybe, but now we’ll never know for sure.” She believed James when he said he didn’t do it. He may have been an opportunist but Astrid doesn’t think he was a killer. “He also knew all of Demetria’s secrets.”

  Neither she nor Quinn discussed Jensen killing James like that. Not why or for what reason. It was stupid. Trigger happy. And completely out of character.

  “Well, maybe some of those secrets lived,” Quinn says, holding up a flash drive. “I snagged it off of James.”

  “You think that’s what he went in there to get?” He did say he wanted to expose Demetria.

  “We’ll find out.”

  He pushes the flash drive into the computer and one file appears. It’s a video. Quinn presses play and the recording shows on the bigger screen on the wall. Astrid leans back in her seat.

  Demetria’s face appears on the screen. She’s beautiful. Soft caramel hair. Dark, flawless skin. Copper brown eyes. She’s confident, but even before she speaks, it’s possible to see the terrifying glint in her eye.

  “My public story is true. Grew up in the Swamp. Single mom. Vanished dad. Our life was hard but we survived. I stayed inside a lot. The streets were too dangerous. And since we were poor I didn’t have a lot of toys or games or a computer to play with. I had my imagination and boy, what an imagination it was. I’d go in deep. Live in the land of fairies and unicorns. Sometimes I was so far in my daydreams that reality and imagination got confused.”

  She smiles
across the desk.

  “I was twelve when my mother died and I was sent to live with Miss Rosalie. That’s where I came into my own. I learned that it wasn’t my imagination. It was a gift. I could make things come to life. I could bring joy to myself and others. Even though I missed my mother, I did like the home and the other kids there. They were like me and didn’t think I was weird. For a brief moment, despite the pain of losing my mom, I was happy.”

  Her eyes darken.

  “Then that went to hell. I survived, but I knew the truth. Evil lurked in our world. True evil. They took my mother. My home and Miss Rosalie. With the help of a new guardian I found out the truth. What my powers were really for. They weren’t to bring happiness. They were to fight back.”

  Astrid exchanges a look of concern with Quinn.

  “There’s a loophole in my power. I can’t use it against my greatest enemies. Those like me. We were created this way so that one day we would be allies and we couldn’t fight one another.” She smiles wickedly. “I don’t need allies, but it has come to my attention that there are other survivors of Project 12. Some are gathering, others are in hiding. I don’t know what their motives are but I do not want them interfering with my plans. The Pixie Dust is my security measure if I have to take them out.”

  The video blinks out.

  “Well that was a boatload of crazy,” Owen says.

  “Crazy but true. She knows about us. And the Pixie Dust does allow us to use our abilities against one another. It’s how I read her Echo at the gala.”

  “And how I used mine against you at the house that night,” Owen confesses. When she and Quinn look at him questioningly, he shrugs. “It was part of the initiation into the crew.”

  Quinn sighs and stands. “I think I’m done for the night.”

  “What about Demetria? Casper?” she asks.

  “She’ll still be there tomorrow. And Casper? I’m not sure what to do.” He grazes his fingers on the back of her neck and heads upstairs.

  It’s been a long fucking day. She looks at Owen. “That was a good save tonight. Does that mean you’re ready to go out with us?”

  “Maybe. I’m not really used to being part of a team.”

  “Well, if you want to join us again and you can handle the team aspect, next time wear your suit.”

  His green eyes light up. “I have a suit?”

  She walks across the room and steps into the changing room. “We all have a suit.”

  She shows him his closet. The one with his name on it. Neither she or Quinn opened it before. It seemed like something that belonged to him. “And there are others?”

  “A few. Atticus had a lot of secrets he kept from me.”

  He takes the dark black and green leather jacket off the hanger and slips it on. Astrid steps forward and threads the zipper at the bottom and slowly glides it up. He watches her closely.

  “Demetria isn’t the only villain out there, you know that, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I know. Atticus didn’t create all of this for us to fight one person.” One of her hands lingers on his jacket and the other is at her side. He grazes his finger tips with hers. She feels a chill, the good kind, travel up her spine. She has no idea what she’s doing, except exploring these men with her hands is something that has been so off limits, for so long, she can’t help herself.

  “Thanks for letting me crash here,” he says a bit later, when they’ve locked up the Lair and are up in the apartment. “The police are probably still looking for me.”

  “Yeah, that’s just something else we’ve got to figure out.” That and a whole lot else having to do with Jensen.

  Harry greets them and winds his way around her legs. Owen makes a face but says nothing when she picks the cat up. “Good night, Astrid.”

  “Night, Owen.” She pushes up on her toes and gives him a kiss on the cheek. He grins and dips his chin like he’s bashful. She doubts that completely.

  In her room, she tosses Harry on the bed, who immediately makes a nest out of her softest blanket. She crawls in next to him. “What am I doing, friend, inviting these men in the house? Playing superhero? Doubting my only remaining family…”

  The cat purrs, kneading his paws into her leg, begging for affection. She gives it to him and then falls asleep when she realizes neither of them have the answers.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Astrid

  Sleep comes easily and if it weren’t for the flashing light on her phone, Astrid probably would have slept for hours.

  Pushing Harry out of the way she squints at the screen. It’s a message. The Project 12 symbol flashes. That’s a first.

  “Hello?” Her voice is raspy with sleep.

  “Echo?”

  “Casper?” She sits up. “Where are you?”

  “I’m okay,” he says, not answering her question. His voice has a tinny quality. “Someone hacked into my system and I had to bail, but I was able to reverse the tracking and it all leads to that company, WIND-E.”

  “Yeah, we know all about it. Demetria from the group home is the head of it. She’s behind the Pixie Dust and the murders. She’s got some kind of big plan.”

  “You guys need to lie low and bring in Owen.”

  “Done. Well, the Owen part at least.” She shifts in the bed. “Where are you? I don’t like you being where we can’t reach you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You’re part of the team. We need you.”

  He’s quiet. “Just keep your eyes and ears open. Keep going out there when you need to and be safe. I’ll communicate when I can.”

  “Wait! Casper, we’re not done with this!”

  “We are. I’m safe. You’ve got each other. That’s how it has to be for now.”

  She opens her mouth to argue again but she hears the click and the line goes dead. He’s gone.

  *

  “Try that.” Astrid tugs the two now-secure knife sheathes that hang against his hips. Owen wanted a weapon of some sort and this was among the accessories in his closet. He crosses his arms and removes them with relative ease. At least his instincts aren’t bad.

  “Now I just have to learn how to throw them.”

  “We’ll practice,” Quinn says, looking at her. “Set up a few targets in the gym?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got the space and equipment.” She groans. “Ugh, I’ve got to plan for my next class. We’re just a week out from graduation.”

  “Any word from Jensen?” Quinn asks. They both look over when a knife clatters to the floor and Owen looks up sheepishly. He definitely needs to practice.

  She shakes her head about Jensen. It’s been two days since the situation at the school. A little less since Casper called. Demetria and WIND-E have been silent. The situation at the Gala was presented by the media like a case of bad champagne that strangely made the patrons mass hallucinate.

  The police radio rattles off something about a high speed chase down in The Swamp. Astrid looks at Quinn.

  “Should we?”

  “Probably,” he replies, as if he’s not dying to go back out.

  “You’re going out?” Owen asks.

  She walks up to him and takes the knives out of his hands. “Get on your jacket and mask. We’re leaving in ten.”

  His handsome face splits with a grin. “I can go?”

  “Yes,” she says. “But you have to follow directions. Just watch. Nothing impulsive.”

  Quinn snorts, lacing his leather pants. She shoots him a glare. He holds it.

  “What?” she challenges.

  He shrugs and tosses her mask. She catches it in her hands. Owen slips past them to get the rest of his uniform but there’s no mistaking he watches their every interaction.

  Astrid steps close to Quinn. “I think you like me impulsive.”

  He touches her chin.

  “I like you alive,” he says, kissing her lips.

  She pulls the mask over her eyes and flips on the system. Owen stands on the ste
p just behind Quinn, hood shielding most of his face. He winks. Butterflies war in her belly as she looks from one man to the other.

  Quinn may be right. Her impulsiveness may be the end of her.

  *

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Owen says, leaning over the edge of the rooftop. Blue and red lights flash across the alley below. By the time they got to The Swamp the car chase was over and both suspects are handcuffed and on the ground. To say Owen is disappointed would be an understatement.

  “Buck up,” Astrid says, patting him on the back. “There will be another one. I promise.”

  “Yeah?” his eyes are sad but sweet. She almost ruffles his hair.

  Almost.

  “See if you can get any idea of what went down,” she says to Quinn. There’s an application on their masks that allows them to record video and sound. Now is a good time to test it.

  There are dozens of police vehicles in the alley, as well as two ambulances. A few reverse and peel out from the rest as the scene stabilizes. One car, unmarked, catches Astrid’s eye. It backs out but doesn’t follow the others, instead turning down a side alley around the back of the building she’s standing on right now.

  The gravel roof crunches under her feet and the sky is lightened by a billboard with a bikini-clad woman lounging by a pool, drinking watered-down beer. Astrid has no problem seeing as she passes the lights and enters the darker part of the roof. She hears the squeak of the brakes below. The driver’s side door creaks open, then slams. The head of hair is familiar, as well as the slow gait. Jensen looks around and from the roof she hears the uptick in his heart rate, the sound of his fingers brushing against the metal grip of his gun.

  What the heck is he doing down here?

  Another figure emerges from the shadows, head fully cloaked in a black hoodie. Astrid hops up on the ledge, taking care to not make a sound. She can make the jump to the ground easily, if needed.

  But she doesn’t. Jensen leaves the gun in the holster and shakes the man’s extended hand.