Empowered: Agent (The Empowered Series Book 1)

by Dale Ivan Smith

  “Only if you consider a Dasher a car. It functions. Barely.”

  I glanced at Alex, who might look the part if he let his beard hair become stubble.

  Alex shrugged. “Car snob.”

  Winterfield cocked an eyebrow. “There are standards, Sanchez.”

  I stretched. Alex handed me an identical copy of the jacket I had been wearing on Tuesday.

  “You guys think of everything, don’t you?” For some reason that level of planning made my skin itch. Support had everything covered. Including maybe my own funeral in case I screwed up.

  Alex grinned. “We wouldn’t be Support if we didn’t.”

  That actually got me to smile. Maybe being my own personal morale booster was part of his job description.

  “All right, time to get going,” Winterfield said sourly.

  He, on the other hand, was a grade A downer.

  The back of the van opened, revealing night. A lone streetlamp shone a cone of yellow light onto pavement about twenty feet away.

  “Great place to be assaulted,” I said.

  “The other two street lights are due to be fixed tomorrow,” Winterfield said.

  Gee, that was a handy coincidence, wasn’t it?

  Alex took me over to the Dodge Dasher. Even in the darkness you could see the gray primer covering the body. The hood was bent, one headlight had been replaced and the glass on the other cracked. More cracks spiderwebbed the windshield.

  Alex reached into his hoodie’s pocket and handed me a set of keys. “At least it runs.”

  The other two keys on the ring looked like house keys.

  “For your new place.” He stepped close. Despite the grungy getup, he smelled nice.

  “Thanks.”

  He repeated the address for the house. “It’s abandoned and has foreclosure locks on the doors. These keys will get you past those and the deadbolt. But make sure you go in the back, not the front.”

  “Got it.”

  He handed me a cell phone. “Use this to call my number, which is the only one in contacts. You can also use it to call the other side, if they allow that.” He lowered his voice. “Do not call Winterfield with it. Remember, pay phone only when you contact him.”

  “Sure, mom. I won’t forget.”

  He laughed silently. He leaned in close, dropped his voice to a whisper. “I know we are expecting a lot of you, just remember you aren’t alone.”

  I swallowed. Hugging him didn’t feel right, so instead I clasped his shoulder.

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  The Dasher coughed to life when I turned the key in the ignition. The lights and signals worked. Alex waved and disappeared inside the black van, closing the rear door with a quiet thunk.

  I was on my own again.

  How do you find an Empowered who can blend in with his surroundings, especially at night? Being able to sense the presence of another Empowered helped, but Gus was off the grid. Fortunately, having his address, thanks to Gus giving it to me, made finding him a lot easier.

  I parked the Dasher a block from the boarded-up old building Support said he was squatting in.

  It began raining as I crept along a low wall toward Gus’s hidey-hole. Crabgrass brushed against my legs, murmuring in its slumber. The building was dark. Behind me the nearest streetlamp barely illuminated the faded letters painted on the side of the building—Druggist, it read. Must be a very old building. The front was boarded up. Gus had to go in and out of the back.

  Plywood covered all the rear windows except for one. Drapes fluttered in the breeze. An old fire escape ran right up past the window.

  That window had to be his way in and out. He probably stayed in the room just beyond it. Back in the Renegades, Gus had always wanted to be near the exit.

  I circled around the fence and found an opening hidden by shrubs, wide enough for Gus to wiggle out.

  I coaxed the shrubs to grow and pull at the fence, enough to warp the wood, and slithered through. I stood and looked back at the gash in the fence. Gus’s first instinct was always to run.

  I urged the branches to thicken until they blocked the opening and his easy escape route.

  A shudder ran through me. This was the first time in five years I’d chosen to use my power, freely. That time with Hatcher’s gang had been unconscious self-defense. I’d used my power during Winterfield’s “test” with Flick because I had been ordered to do so.

  I loved my power when I was younger. Before it landed me in Special Corrections. Now? I didn’t know how I felt. I sure as hell didn’t love it like I once had.

  I climbed the fire escape until I crouched next to the open second-story window and could see the room past the fluttering curtain. An electric lamp lit a cluttered room filled with piles of magazines and books, and bundles of old newspapers filled the space.

  “Gus!” I whispered. “Gus!”

  Something fell with a clatter, then silence.

  “Come on. I know you are in there. It’s me, Mat.”

  Gus appeared at the window, looking frightened.

  “Mat?” Relief washed over his face. “You’re okay!” He slumped against the window frame. I hauled myself inside the room. Next to Gus was a chair. On it was a copy of Dickens’s Great Expectations, with a blue leather bookmark. Gus’s old bookmark. This was definitely his hidey-hole.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Nice of you to care.” Job or no job, I was still going to twist the knife.

  He looked stricken. “I do care.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “If I could change what happened five years ago, I would.”

  “But you can’t.”

  He ducked his head. “No,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “But you can help me now.” My words sounded so phony in my own ears, but Gus raised his head, looking like a puppy hoping it wasn’t going to be hit again. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I’ll take your help,” I said. I hated myself for saying those words.

  “Awesome! I’m glad!” He looked like a happy puppy, eager to please me.

  All right, it was time to get things moving.

  “So, the Scourge survived?”

  He nodded vigorously, probably glad I had bought into the whole Scourge is back from the dead thing. “The world thinks they were destroyed, but they survived and became a new organization. I’m in one of their cells.”

  I acted astonished, as Winterfield and Sanchez had instructed me. I wanted to slug him. This all was so phony—nothing had changed. Gus was still a little creep.

  He must have seen the anger tightening my face because he vanished all of a sudden, blending in with the darkness inside the window.

  I took a deep, ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Gus,” I forced myself to say.

  “Really, Gus,” I added. “You were trying to help me. I want your help.”

  He materialized at the other end of the windowsill. “Great! That’s great, Mat!” An enthusiastic smile lit up his face.

  Time to cut to the chase. “I want in.”

  “I’m glad. We can help. You’ll see.” Gus was even more eager now. I guess the guilt about leaving us in the lurch five years ago still ate at him.

  “The Scourge is really back?” I added that for effect.

  He nodded. “Yes.” Gus grew serious. “You sure you don’t want to come inside?”

  “I have to get going.” I swallowed. “I have some unfinished business.”

  “Okay. Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes. My grandmother gave me one,” I lied. I gave Gus the number.

  “Good, good!” Gus’s head bobbed furiously. “I’ll call you about meeting the Man as soon as I get the word.” I could almost smell his relief. This was a chance to lessen the guilt he said he felt over what happened at the end of the Renegades.

  “I appreciate this, Gus.” I sounded even more phony to my own ears than I had a moment ago, but Gus kept nodding. “I’ll wait for your call,” I said.

  “You’ll be at your grandmothe
r’s?”

  “No, not anymore.” I made the words sound despairing.

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  Clearly he wanted to ask about that, but one look at my face convinced him to keep his mouth shut. I climbed back down the fire escape. When I reached the ground and glanced back up at the window, Gus had disappeared.

  It was after 11PM. I should wait for morning, but I had to see Ruth and the twins right away.

  I parked the Dasher in a guest spot and went up to the third floor.

  About to knock, I hesitated. I still had my key. My stuff was still there. I still lived there—for the next few minutes—until I told them the news. This was goodbye. Goodbye for I didn’t know how long. I swallowed and unlocked the door.

  The twins were on the couch watching TV. They jumped when they saw me.

  “Mat! Are you okay?” Ella’s eyes were wide. She sounded so relieved. I didn’t want to move out, not when she obviously cared so much about me.

  Ava frowned. She scrambled to her feet, and pointed at me. “We thought you were dead! Where were you? Ruth was worried! And what happened to Raphe and the guys? They haven’t answered my calls.”

  I ignored her last question. “Well, I’m not dead, so you can just chill.” Ava could stuff it as far I cared. I looked at Ella. “Is Ruth in bed?” It came out harsher than I intended.

  Ella shook her head. “This isn't fair, Mat. We thought you had died. And then you come back, and just ask for Ruth, no explanation, nothing.”

  “What happened to Raphe and his friends?” Ava repeated. She actually looked worried. Worried about a bunch of scummy gangers that were just using her to get to me, and have some fun in the process. They made me sick.

  “They’re gone.” I didn’t even try to keep the scorn out of my voice.

  She crossed her arms. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “As in they aren’t around here anymore.”

  Ella’s lower lip quivered. “Did you kill them?”

  There it was. What other explanation could there be? Winterfield and Sanchez hadn’t talked to me about this; I was just supposed to come home, collect my stuff and leave, no explanations other than the most basic. Certainly nothing was mentioned about dealing with what the girls thought might have happened to their ganger friends.

  I scrambled to come up with something. “Some people I know convinced them to leave Portland.”

  Ava’s face darkened. “Miss High-and-Mighty called in her Empowered crook friends? You’re a hypocrite!” She stamped her foot. “How dare you come home and tell me and Ella we can’t hang out with our friends. Yours are worse.”

  Ella curled her lip. “What did you do to them?”

  “Just some convincing, like I said.” This was getting out of control, and I was getting angry. “Just let it go.”

  “You tortured them!” Ava’s voice cracked in anguish, echoing in the room.

  Ruth appeared in the kitchen, wearing her old housecoat. She looked frail, skin paper-thin. Sicker than the last time I saw her, only a few days ago. My heart sank.

  “Mat!” She hugged me close. “We were worried to death about you. What happened?”

  I ducked my head. “Just took care of a problem.” It sounded phony in my ears, but what else could I say?

  “I heard what the twins said to you just now. Did you have those men killed?”

  “No! I just persuaded them to leave.” I wanted Ruth to believe me, but part of me realized it would be easier to move out if she thought I’d done something to them. But if she did, she might turn me in. I had to stick to my story.

  “How?” Ruth suddenly reminded me of a hawk, eyes watching me intently.

  I made myself stand still, and looked Ruth in the eye. “Like I told the twins, I went to some old friends and asked for help.”

  “You’re lying!” Ava’s voice shrieked. She shook her fist at me. “You had Raphe and the others killed, and now you are lying about it!”

  “Ava-” I began, but she threw open the front door and stormed outside, followed by Ella, the door slamming behind them.

  A photo of the Rocky Mountains Ruth had had forever, mounted on the wall, crashed to the floor, glass shattering and the frame breaking.

  Ruth began coughing and doubled over. It sounded like she was hacking out her lungs. I steadied her. The coughing fit finally stopped. Ruth pulled me over to the couch.

  “Shouldn’t I go after the twins?”

  “They need to calm down first,” Ruth said. “And I need to talk to you alone.”

  “I didn’t kill those men.”

  “I appreciate that you were trying to protect your sisters.” She lay back against the couch, half closed her eyes.

  “It’s the truth. Really.”

  She coughed again. “If you say so,” she said when she could speak again.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “No.” She drew in a slow breath, managed not to cough and sat up again. She squeezed my hand. “Mat, I need to tell you something.”

  My heart stopped for a moment. When Ruth said she “needed to tell me something,” it was always important.

  “I understand why you fell in with the Renegades and ended up in prison, back when you were sixteen.”

  “You do?” She had never said anything before. Not the last time I saw her before prison, not when I got out. I knew she was disappointed in me, but Ruth was always about moving forward and dealing with things as they were now, not as they had been.

  “You wanted a place to belong.”

  “I was an idiot.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a place where you can belong.” She squeezed my hand.

  “But I…” I stopped. I wanted to say, but I belong here, with you and the twins. But if I did, that would make it even harder to leave now. Damn it.

  I sighed. “I screwed up.”

  “We all make mistakes, Mat.” She squeezed my hand again. “I’ve certainly made my share.” She swallowed. A muscle worked in her jaw.

  I got the impression she felt guilty about something. She wouldn’t meet my eye.

  She faced me. “I’m why your parents died.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your father wanted to get back to me in time for my birthday.” She swallowed. “There was a snowstorm.”

  Her birthday was in December.

  “The roads were bad. But he said he could make it.” A tear ran down her cheek.

  “I should have told him to stay in Colorado.”

  The anger went out of me like air from a balloon. I sat back down beside her.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She shook her head. “I should have insisted harder than I did.”

  “Mom went along with it,” I said, bitterness thick in my voice. My parents had done a stupid thing and the twins and I had ended up orphans because of it.

  A muscle twitched in Ruth’s neck.

  “Don’t feel guilty,” I told her. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She hugged me close, wiped her face. “I appreciate that you think that. Thank you.”

  But she wasn’t going to stop feeling guilty.

  “Enough about me,” Ruth said. She touched my face. “You’ve felt abandoned all these years. But you weren’t abandoned. I’m still here. I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

  I hugged her back, hard. She was dying. She shouldn’t make promises like that.

  This was why I had to leave, so that I could accomplish the mission for Support and get her and the girls help.

  Ruth pulled away, still holding me and looked me over. “I understand your anger, Mat. But you can’t skirt the law anymore. You’ll be caught and returned to prison for good.”

  “I’m not breaking the law.” I hated lying to her but there was no alternative.

  “Mat, we both know you are.”

  “I’m only trying to do wha
t it takes to help this family. To help you.” That was the truth. It was so unfair I couldn’t tell her it was the truth. “I don’t have any choice.”

  She lifted my chin and looked me in the eye. “Yes! You do have a choice.” She spat out the words. Her weariness was gone, her gaze steady as she looked at me. “You always have a choice.”

  I ground my teeth. “Not now.”

  “You always, always have a choice, Mat.”

  I pulled away, got to my feet. “I can’t hold down a job.” Damn it, I blinked away tears, but they kept flowing, hot, down my cheeks and dripped onto the carpet.

  “We’ll find a way,” Ruth insisted. “Crime isn’t the way.”

  “I’m just doing what I have to.”

  “Mat, if you continue, you’re abandoning us.”

  How dare she!

  I smacked my fist into my palm. “I’m not the one who died,” I said. “I’m not the one sick. I’m not the twins, who think the world owes them everything. I’m trying to take care of you, and them!”

  “Not like this.”

  Damn her. She could be all high and mighty about what I should or should not be doing, but she had no idea. No idea at all.

  I stormed into my room and shoved clothes into my duffel bag. Zipped it shut with a jerk and went back out to the living room.

  Ruth grabbed at my arm, but I pushed her hand away.

  “Don’t do this!” She said. “We’ll find a way. Don’t leave.”

  I slammed the door behind me and stomped down the stairs to my car. I took a sharp breath. I wasn’t going to cry. Not ever again.

  I threw my duffle bag in the back seat of the Dasher and glanced back up at the apartment, half expecting Ruth to be at the window looking at me, but she wasn’t.

  I jumped in behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and started up the car.

  No one understood what I felt.

  Chapter 6

  It monsooned as I drove the Dasher to North Portland. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles hurt; I was that angry. Stupid rain chose a great time to come down in buckets. The car’s windshield wipers did a crappy job, and the headlights from oncoming traffic turned the water on the windshield into a sheet of glare, forcing me to slow the car to a crawl.