The Invincibles (Book 1): Trapped: A girl. A monster. A hero.

by Brittany Oldroyd

  I grin. Even if there’s no time to laugh at irony.

  Running to the door, grabbing a chair, I push it against the door, set its back under the handle. Just to buy enough time. Because someone must have heard glass shatter, because someone must be expecting me to come back, because someone is going to try to go through that door.

  I go to the computer. Reach into my boot, grab the small flash drive pressed against my ankle, against my sock.

  Alec doesn’t know I’m doing this. He’d try to talk me out of, he’d worry himself sick.

  I push the flash drive into the computer and get to work. Copy all the files on the computer and put them on the drive. I don’t know what I need. So I take everything. No time to sort through it all. No time to—

  They’re here.

  Pounding on the door, angry yelling. Time is up.

  I smile, pull out the flash drive, clutch it between my fingers. And jump out the window.

  Landing in a crouch, looking back at the broken window, I can see Pelletier standing there with a pale face and surprised eyes. I wink, wiggle my fingers.

  Watch me destroy you, I think. Because I will. I will bring down Glass Tech and all that work for it.

  Zane

  “The Black Kat, as criminals are claiming she calls herself, has been named a superhero. But the question remains intact: Who is The Black Kat really?”

  -Newspaper article, “The Black Kat: Hero or Villain?”

  Forty-Five

  I don’t count the meals. Not anymore. I haven’t for a long time. Not since she got here, not since she left, not since I felt a little less broken. There is meaning in teaching a girl to fight. There is meaning in giving someone a chance destroy an enemy. There is meaning in knowing a hero who doesn’t know herself yet.

  They talk about her sometimes. The scientists. The soldiers. Whispers of the experiment that got away. Rumors of the girl who won’t stand down. Some of them even fear her.

  I wish I knew her. Days, weeks, months passed between us. I don’t know her. I know she is stubborn, quick to anger, sarcastic. I know she hates Richard Glass more than I ever did. I know she had nightmares.

  I remember her screams. When no one was touching her. When she should be safest, lost in her own sleep. It was then that she seemed most afraid.

  She seemed vulnerable. Tired and upset and almost human.

  But Kate never seemed human. She was too powerful. A force that could not feel terror, an element that could not be controlled. It was fascinating.

  I wanted to talk to her. All the time. I wanted to know everything about her. Why was she so defiant? Why was she so sarcastic about everything? Why was she so determined to hide her fear? Who was Kate McCallister?

  I was afraid.

  Afraid of hurting her, afraid of losing her, afraid of myself. Because she was interesting and she was beautiful and she brought me back to life. Because she reminded me why I fought so hard, she reminded me why I’m alive, she reminded me to move past the ghosts of my past. That scared me.

  And then she left, disappeared into the city of Chicago, took her bravery and inhuman power with her. But she is not gone.

  Glance left and right. Alone.

  I pull out the newspaper clipping, the one of many articles written about her, the picture I have saved. She is more beautiful, more fascinating now than she was before. I would give anything to understand her.

  She’s the night. Black from short-cropped hair to combat boots. In shadows, she is invisible. In darkness, she is invincible. The only light are those dark gold eyes. The Black Kat.

  She’s not doing what I asked. She’s not trying to stop Richard Glass. She’s not even trying to break me out of this cage.

  She’s doing something better.

  Kate has become a crime fighter. The Black Kat. A champion for Chicago. She’s doing something I could never have expected, could never have asked her to do. She’s forcing criminals to turn themselves in.

  I wish I would have taken the time to see her as something, not just an experiment, not just another victim.

  She’s just another girl.

  No, I disagree, glancing at the Misti-hallucination. She’s powerful. She’ll stop Richard Glass. She’ll finish this.

  It should have been finished a long time ago.

  I tried to stop him. I tried to save you.

  Not good enough.

  My heart is shattering. I tried, I failed. She’s dead. It’s my fault. I should have tried harder, I should have done something different, I should have stopped her.

  You—

  Misti disappears in a wisp of sounds. Someone coming, someone stepping into the lab, someone I didn’t hear because I was lost in my own insanity.

  I shove the picture behind me, lean back against the wall in the cage. Steele myself. Pelletier is here.

  He steps into the room, whirls across the lab. “She’s going to pay this time.” He stabs a finger at me, like this is my fault, like I am to blame for whatever is wrong. “Breaking into my office, stealing my documents. She’s in trouble now.”

  I want to cry, scream, laugh. Because she broke into Glass Tech, because she was in this same building, because she’s still fight Richard Glass. She’s still starting a war.

  Until then.

  It’s so close now. Close enough to touch, close enough to taste. She’ll come. Soon. If she’s stealing information, she’s starting her war. If she’s breaking in, she’s looking for ways to break me out, she’s looking for Richard Glass’s weakness.

  I don’t want her to risk anything for me, I don’t want her to get hurt, I don’t want her to focus on helping me. But I do want out of here. Because I am selfish, because I am tired of rotting, because she has reminded me what it’s like to be alive.

  I wonder what it would be like to taste Chicago air again, wonder what it would be like to fight and be free again, wonder what it would be like to do something but sit and pace and

  be silent.

  Pelletier glances at me, glances back. Gestures to the man that has accompanied him, the man I’ve just noticed. “This is Dalton Knight,” he says. “The Invincible.”

  Congratulations.

  Sarcasm is heavy on my lips. Kate would be proud.

  Pelletier ignores it. “He’s going to stand guard down here.” Another amiable smile and he looks at Dalton. “If the Black Kat shows up, subdue her. Take any measures necessary. If it becomes necessary, kill her.”

  No!

  On my feet. Slamming my hand down on the bars. Fury in my head and in my shaking hands and on my silent lips.

  Pelletier is still smiling. “If she continues to fight this, Katherine McCallister will be killed brutally. We have our Invincible. She is just a nuisance now.”

  He leaves and I’m shaking. Trembling with fear. Shivering with anger.

  She can’t come. She can’t help me. She can’t start this war. She can’t do this. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

  Because if she comes, she’ll fight. Because if she fights, they’ll kill her. Because if they kill her, she’ll be gone. And every chance of stopping Glass will go with her.

  I look at Dalton. Study him. I used to be good at reading people. At analyzing people. It’s time to see if I can still do it like I used to.

  Dalton Knight. Around eighteen or nineteen years old. Jock-type. Tall, broad-shouldered. His arms are crossed and every muscle is bulging. He’s cocky. It’s in his face, in the way he carries himself. He thinks owns the world, he thinks he’s its puppet master.

  “What are you looking at, Pup?”

  Say nothing. Keep your silence. Hold your tongue.

  “You know,” he says matter-of-factly, “I was pretty surprised when I found out Katherine wasn’t here anymore. I was looking forward to seeing her again. It’s been too long. I hope she comes back soon.”

  I grit my teeth. Her name is Kate.

  He laughs. “So, she wouldn’t let you call her Katherine either. She was alway
s so funny about that.”

  She won’t come.

  “Yeah?” he smirks. “What’s going to stop her? She doesn’t know about me. She doesn’t know The Invincible exists. As far as she knows, this is no more dangerous than it was the first time she escaped. She’ll come back.”

  And then she’ll get away again.

  “You sure? I’m willing to bet big money that she wouldn’t miss out on a fight with me. She hates me.”

  He laughs again. “I miss her. She was such an angry little thing. It’s time I reminded her who’s in charge and who’s just a puppet.”

  I snort. The fact that you have to remind her that she’s a puppet proves you’re not the puppet master. What’s it like? Not having control over her?

  Dalton glares, growls. “It’s short-lived.”

  I grin. Because I think I’ve just figured it out. I understand. His weakness, his Achilles heel. His need for control. It’s driving him crazy, not being able to control her, not being able to make her do what he wants.

  Dalton is grinning again. “Oh, I’m not too worried about it.” He walks across the room, approaches one of the other cages, grabs the bars in his hands, yanks hard. And pulls the cage apart with his bare hands.

  Staring.

  Because he just brought down the whole cage with a single pull. Because he just tore every bar in the cage from the wall, because there’s nothing left of metal scraps. Because if he can do that to steel cage that holds every experiment here, I don’t want to know what he could do to Kate.

  He’s still laughing to himself. “Just you wait, Pup. She’ll come, and when she does, it will be a show you’ll never forget.”

  Kate

  “Project Six has been deemed: SUCCESSFUL. Mr. Glass has approved him as THE INVINCIBLE.”

  -Dr. Pelletier’s notes

  Forty-Six

  PROJECT TWO

  Name: Zane Rothstein

  Age: 20 years old

  DNA: timber wolf

  Strengths: heightened senses, ability to turn into a wolf, incredible tracking abilities, excellent night vision

  Weaknesses: mute, schizophrenic, uncontrollable anger

  Notes: Project Four’s attitude remains cold. His ability to turn into a full-fledged wolf is uncontrollable. He speaks to the hallucinations in his mind and refuses to speak. His voice box appears to be intact.

  Project Four: FAILED

  I have read these words a hundred, a thousand, a million times. Memorized them, forward and backward. Every word, every bit of information in that file, repeats in my head all day, all night, dawn to dusk, sunset to sunrise. Knowing these words almost feels like stalking.

  Zane’s file was the first document Alec found on my flash drive. He printed it off, gave it to me when I came home one morning after a night of patrolling the streets. He must have known how much it would mean to me.

  It means the world.

  Because I miss him and he’s still trapped and guilt rocks through me. The man who taught me how to fight, the experiment who helped me begin my war, the broken spy who I couldn’t help but be attracted to. He’s still stuck, still a prisoner, still broken.

  And it’s my fault.

  I stand, tuck Zane’s file under my cot, get started with some yoga. Step onto the mat, breathe deep, pull, twist, stretch into a few poses.

  There’s something truly calming about yoga. The way my body moves, the slow motions of it. A way to calm my thoughts, tune my body, prepare to fight without losing an ounce of control.

  “So, I did some research on your vigilante?”

  I glance up, step out of the pretzel I’ve twisted myself into. “And?”

  “There’s not much to tell,” he admits. “Several people claim a British man in all gray killed their attackers. He’s popping up all over Chicago. The press is calling him the Gray Assassin.”

  I shake my head. “I need to find him. He’s not a hero, Alec. He’s a psychopath. He’s not giving criminals the chance to get justice in court.”

  “There aren’t any patterns to the people he attacks as far as I can tell,” Alec says. “He’s a ghost, Kate. He disappears whenever anyone gets too close.”

  I sigh. Think about the Vigilante. A murderer, a swordsman, a criminal. The shock hasn’t worn off. Every time I think about him, every time I remember watching him stab that serial killer, every time I remember the way he winked at me like murder was no big deal, there’s a need to catch him, stop, put him in prison. There’s no justice in what he’s doing.

  “Kate?”

  I snap into attention. Realize Alec has been talking to me. “What?”

  Alec smiles. “I said I found blueprints of Glass Tech, including the labs where Zane is.”

  “Oh, good.” I’m grinning. “Try to find me a path. One that will keep me unseen.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I walk over to the cot, pick up my mask. “In the meantime, I’ve got some patrolling to do. Let me know if there are any serious crimes on the news.”

  “I will. Good luck.”

  I scoff and wink. “Like I need it.”

  Forty-Seven

  Under any other circumstances, I’d be arrested for this.

  Beating men senseless, scaring them silly, threatening them until they turn themselves in. And the police won’t touch me. They don’t dare. They don’t know who I am, don’t know what I am, don’t know why I’m taking out crime. It’s not like they can complain. Crime rates have dropped. Between me and, grudgingly, the Vigilante, crime doesn’t stand a chance.

  Of course, there is always more. There are always those stupid enough to break the law, stupid enough to risk dealing with. Sometimes they think I’m a myth, sometimes they think they’re strong enough to beat me. Sometimes, they just don’t care.

  Tonight is no exception.

  He throws himself forward, shoving me back with enough force to throw even me off balance. Normally, that’s an impossibility. Normally, no one is strong enough to do that. Normally, my tail is enough to keep me righted.

  He’s on top of me in seconds.

  This was bound to happen. Word has spread, whispers of the Black Kat, the woman who makes any robber, any drug dealer, any murderer beg for mercy. And now they’re learning how to fight back. They’re adapting.

  I squirm when he shoves his arm against my throat. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve been strangled. It’s not ideal.

  Against the wall. A heavy-set man choking me. Intent on killing me.

  Bringing my hands up to my throat, claws digging into his arm, I’m starting to see black blurs. Dancing across my vision like dandelion seeds in the wind. I blink hard.

  Somehow, I get a foot up, against his chest, in the space between us. I push him back send him stumbling away. And now I can breathe again.

  My lungs are on fire, my heart is erratic, but my head is steady. I lunge forward, swing a fist, punch him in the gut. When he reaches for me, I swing up a leg. He falls into the wall behind him, clutching his bleeding head, grimacing in pain.

  I step forward, crouch down, grab him in one hand. The usual routine.

  Not today.

  He grabs my arm, pulls me down. Puts a hand over my mouth. Like he expects me to scream, like he expects cowardice, like he thinks I feel things like a human would.

  I jerk, bring my knee up, let it crash against his ribcage. He lets go and I stand. “Don’t make me drag you to the station,” I growl. “How humiliating.”

  “I’d like to see you try, Princess.”

  What is with all these criminals calling me Princess?

  I set my shoulders, my spine. “Oh, you really wouldn’t.”

  He lunges forward, a glint in his eyes, grabbing my waist, and I jump over him. Land lightly on my feet behind him with the advantage I need in my fingertips.

  There’s a beep in my ear. I shove my enemy into the wall, pressing a finger against my ear. “Yes?”

  “Kate?”

  The man spins
, swings a hand. Turns my face with a slap. I snarl, kick him hard, knock him on his back.

  “A little busy, Alec.”

  I push my enemy down again, hold him there, hissing, growling, snarling. Fighting his every attempt to stand.

  “It’s about the blueprints. I have information for you.”

  Now he has my attention.

  “Give me two minutes.”

  I grab my enemy’s throat, yank him to his feet. Not cutting off air. Making escape difficult. Intimidating him sheer force, with raw willpower. He will fear me.

  “You’re going to get your butt to the police station, or you will find out what happens to good-for-nothing lowlifes who are too stubborn.”

  “You don’t scare me, Princess.”

  Don’t I?

  I roar. Bare my teeth. Feel the spittle run from lips. Lose control.

  Because I am tired of this game, because there is too much insanity, too much agony to hold within me. Because I was bound to slip up eventually.

  I am an animal, I am a monster, I am an experiment. Tail flicking, fingers curling with my claws, I stand over him with all five feet and eight inches of my height. He’s on the ground, cowering, shrinking, cringing.

  “Don’t do this.”

  Stop. Hold your breath. Freeze where you stand in the flames and fire that is surprise and shock and alarm.

  Because that is not Alec’s voice in the ear piece, because that is not a voice I recognize, because that is a stranger.

  But the shock is enough to set me free of the animalistic fury I felt seconds before.

  My attention is away from the stranger, focused on the criminal again. I step forward and he winces. I crouch down and he’s staring.

  “Get. Going.”

  And because of my actions just seconds before, because of monster in me, he does. He runs down the street, runs to the police, runs for safety. I watch him go, watch him scramble into the building, watch him look back once to shrink away from my gold eyes.

  I press a finger to my ear. “Who are you?”

  “Um, you’re best friend?”

  Dang it. The stranger is gone. I have no way of figuring out who it was that got into the ear piece, no way of knowing how to contact them.