by Jus Accardo
I waited until she started the engine and pulled onto the road before I attempted conversation. Silence wasn’t usually an issue for me, but with so much hanging between us, I felt uncomfortable. Like there was a twenty-five pound pink elephant in the car. “I need to talk to you about last night.”
There was a screeching sound, and then stars exploded behind my eyes as my forehead kissed the dashboard in what I would have considered an epic crash—had it happened to someone else. The cars behind us leaned on their horn, and with a whir of the engine, we lurched forward.
“Don’t,” she seethed.
She jerked the wheel to the right, taking the turn a little faster than needed. Either she had a lead foot, or she was an angry driver. Either way, the convenience store breakfast burrito I’d scarfed on the way out the door at Zendean was threatening to reappear—and those things did not taste better the second time around.
“Don’t even try feeding me some crap about how sorry you are, or how you didn’t mean for it to happen.” Her voice cut like a knife, but underneath the rage, I could hear it. The smallest whisper of fear. She was still afraid of me. The tirade in the rec room on that first night made total sense now that I’d been inside her head. She was terrified that I’d do what he’d done. Take away her choice.
My name is Brandt Cross, and I’m a good guy…really. I am.
An apology seemed weak, and more than that, almost insulting, but saying nothing wasn’t an option. Not after what I’d done. “I wanted to kiss you,” I said quietly. “I had no right to, but I still wanted it. It was wrong, but I’m not sorry.”
She swerved the car into a parking spot outside the Main Street Cleaners, slammed the brakes, and turned to stare at me. “You’re not sorry?”
I took a deep breath and twisted in the seat so I was facing her. “For wanting to kiss you? Nope. For actually kissing you? Nope again. What I’m—what I regret is that I got so caught up in the moment, that apparently I forced you to do something you didn’t want to. You may not want to hear it, and you probably don’t believe it, but it was an accident.” I thought about Cain’s memories of his father, and some of the things the sick bastard made him do. “No one should be forced to do something they don’t want to. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond, but I could feel her eyes on me as I pulled open the door and slipped out to grab Wentz’s dry cleaning.
I was in and out in no time, and when I got back into the car, Devin didn’t say anything. She sat stony faced and stiff, staring straight ahead. After turning the key, she pulled forward and gunned the engine. We couldn’t have gotten more than five feet when she slammed the brakes again. The sudden stop sent my face to meet the dash. Again. You’d think I would have learned my lesson on the way over and fastened my seatbelt.
“Really?” I snapped, rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. It was going to be bruised. How was I going to explain it? I’d thrown down with a dash and lost? “I said I was sorry!”
But she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring out the windshield at the ass who’d stepped in front of the car.
“What the fuck,” I said, flinging open the door. Henley stood inches from the fender of Donna’s car wearing a shit-eating grin just begging to be wiped away with the back of my fist. “What the hell are you doing?”
On the other side, Devin put the car in park and got out as well. “Not that I really would have minded, but I almost hit you.”
Henley chuckled and placed both hands on the hood of the car. “I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head over me.”
She folded her arms and stuck out her chin. “I was worried about washing your guts off Donna’s car. If you’ve got a death wish, I’d be more than happy to help you in front of oncoming traffic.”
His smile faded and he was around the side of the car and standing in front of her in an instant. “Watch your mouth.”
He grabbed her wrist, and I started to them, but Devin didn’t need me. Before I even made it to the front of the car, Henley gasped as Devin kneed him in the nuts. He doubled over, turning a pretty awesome shade of green, and I found myself fighting back a laugh. Clutching himself, he dropped to the ground with curse.
Devin glared at him. She looked nothing like the girl from her dream. This was the defiant girl I’d met the other night. A victim turned fighter. “Watch your hands.”
Henley climbed to his feet, anger blazing hot behind his eyes. For a second I thought he’d lash out and try to hit her. I readied myself to get between them, but he didn’t make a move. Instead, he straightened his shirt and did the one thing I didn’t expect.
With a smile, he said, “I’m here to check up on you two. See how things are coming along.”
Devin played with the small stuffed duck on Donna’s key ring, her tough-as-nails attitude suddenly replaced by nervousness. “It’s the second day.”
Henley’s smile didn’t waver. He tapped the side of his head. “And you’ve both already disregarded your instructions.”
“How so?” I snapped.
“You’re independent contractors—not a team. Your instructions were clear. Keep a low profile and work alone.”
Devin’s voice took on a hint of panic. “Our being out together was necessary to keep the cover.” She thrust a hand in my direction. “I didn’t acknowledge him at all!”
“And is your mission complete?”
She hesitated, looking downward with a frown. “I haven’t—no. Not yet.”
Henley turned to me. “And you?”
I folded my arms. “I already talked to Anderson. Pretty sure I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Henley’s eyes darkened and he took a menacing step forward. “You owe me whatever I say you owe me. We clear?”
I squared my shoulders, refusing to answer.
Mistaking my silence for submission, he smiled. “You had access to everything you needed the moment you walked into the building. Your job should be done by now.”
Devin fisted the duck on Donna’s keys, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. I told Anderson there was no guarantee I’d find—”
He put his hand out to stop her. “Not interested. And Anderson won’t be either. You have a few days to bring him the information you were sent in to get. After that, the deal you made with him is off.”
Her eyes grew wide. “No!”
Henley turned to me, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, at Devin. “I wouldn’t get too wrapped up in the packaging. I’m sure you figured out already that only one of you is walking away with the grand prize.”
“I kind of got that,” I responded dryly.
He took a step closer to Devin, sly grin plastered across his lips. “I could help you. We could team up and blow this douche out of the water. Maybe work something out in trade…”
“Go to hell,” she spat, swatting him away.
Henley knew what her response would be, he’d only pushed to get a reaction. “A shame,” he said with a knowing grin. “Guess you really are just another pretty face. One without any common sense.”
I advanced. People like Henley—people whose only purpose in life was to push others around—pissed me off. I’d never taken to bullies. Add that to the intense hatred Cain had for this guy, and the whole thing was a stick of dynamite with a dangerously short fuse.
He turned and walked away, and I started after him.
“Forget it,’ Devin said, her voice wavering just a bit. She watched him for a moment before pulling open the car door and slipping back to the driver’s seat. “Let’s get back.”
Chapter Nine
Devin didn’t speak to me on the ride back to Dromere. She was obviously distracted by what Henley had said, and that was fine. I didn’t know what else I could say to her anyway. The excuse for what I’d done was lame—especially knowing what I did about her past—and while deep down I wanted her to forgive me, I understood if she couldn’t—and was actually a little
relieved. Devin intrigued me. If she forgave me, I might be interested in trying to get to know her. But there was something else to focus on. I had to find a way to get that formula. Still, I couldn’t help wondering about the deal Anderson made with her—and why didn’t they want us working together? If tag-teaming would get them what they wanted faster, what did they have against it? This thing seemed to be getting more complicated by the minute. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time for complicated.
I still couldn’t figure out how I’d made Cain’s ability work last night. I’d been trying all morning with no success—but once I got back to work, it was time to try again.
I finished off the things on Wentz’s list a little before four. Grabbing another six-pack of soda—from the kitchen this time—I made my way up to the lab office with the intention of pushing him to give me next week off. I found him sitting back, feet kicked onto the desk and staring at a small glass box mounted on the wall.
Closing the door behind me, I set the dry cleaning and soda on his desk and sat down.
After a few moments of weird, heavy silence, Wentz asked, “Are you an open-minded guy, Doug?”
“I like to think so.”
He nodded to the case on the wall. “What would you say if I told you that piece of plastic in there was one of my most precious possessions?”
I followed his gaze to the wall, plans momentarily stalled. Inside the glass box was a small, ordinary plastic-looking ring mounted on red velvet. “I guess I’d ask what made it so special…”
“That little piece of plastic there is what inspired my research.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Research? The kind of research not done on animals and fish, right?”
He hopped out of the chair and clapped his hands together. “The very same!” A smile spread across his lips. Apparently serious Wentz was gone for the day. “I don’t know what it is, but I like you.”
His admission made me feel guilty. I had no intention of hurting him, but I was here to technically steal something from him. The only thing that lessened the guilt was the fact that I wasn’t handing it over to Denazen. I planned on helping people. I planned on helping Dez. “Well, I did save your life. You probably owe me a few rounds for that.”
He looked surprised. After a moment, he stomped his feet, smile growing wider. It was infectious. The guy had a weird sort of energy that affected everyone around him. He made people happy. Well, everyone except Nader, who he made crazy. “Right on. After work?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Then I started thinking. Leaving the boarding house for no reason would arouse suspicion. Since Cain had gotten there, he’d only gone out on Thursdays to hit Skinners. Other nights, he spent his time in his room. This would be the perfect excuse to get the skate wheel back, as well find out more about Wentz—and possibly get the formula. Maybe he’d be easier to push with some liquid aid. I could play it off to Anderson as part of the assignment. “There’s this bar downtown. Skinners. You know it?”
He let out a sharp whistle. “The table dancing bar. Nice choice!”
…
Surprisingly, Anderson wasn’t as thrilled as I thought he’d be about me buddying up to Wentz. He asked twice if there was going to be a problem getting the formula. I promised there wouldn’t be, and repeated my earlier statement about some people being a bit harder to push—which appeared to be true. I’d come to the conclusion that the only reason I’d been able to push Devin was because of the intense feelings I’d had for her at that moment. I’d wanted so badly to kiss her that I’d made it happen. Wentz was taking a little more time, but I was starting to panic—which might be a good thing. Maybe I needed that extra push to get things rolling.
I told Anderson I was meeting up with Wentz at eight, but told Wentz nine. That gave me enough time to slip out and get the wheel. We were all free to come and go as we pleased at Zendean, but Cain had been reclusive from day one. I’d been waiting for an ideal time to slip away without arousing suspicion and this would be it.
A wave of nausea hit me as I stepped into the alleyway. Flashes of Cain’s surprised expression as I emerged from the shadows, knife in hand, came rushing back. It was coupled with the memory of the way my heart pounded—almost making my chest explode—as the blade pierced my skin and sent my life spilling to the ground. Waking up and looking at the face I’d grown so used to seeing every morning in the mirror lying cold and lifeless. The feeling of complete and utter detachment… Not here. Not there. Not anywhere. In those first moments after jumping into Cain I’d been nothing.
I’d been faceless.
My name is Brandt Cross…no matter what face I wear…
Bending low, I stretched my hand behind the dumpster, fingers eagerly searching the ground for the one thing I knew would bring me peace. When at first I found nothing but dirt, a wave of panic washed over me, but passed as the tip of my index finger grazed the familiar marred plastic. Stretching farther, I was able to roll the wheel closer, then finally pull it out.
“Oh, baby. I missed you.” With a squeeze, I pocketed the wheel and made my way across the street.
The bouncer nodded in acknowledgment as I passed. Cain had been a regular here for the last month. He even had his own table at the back. Of course, I knew the secret behind his special treatment. Cain used his ability to get VIP treatment. Un-carded, free drinks, and personal attention from the entertainment. Cain was the worst kind of Six. Someone who abused his gift, using it to get what he wanted, whenever he wanted—no matter who it burned.
I sat down and ordered a beer, thoughts drifting to Devin. Even though my gut knew it was a bad idea, I planned on visiting her again tonight. She didn’t fit the Denazen mold. Finding out what she was doing with Anderson, and what she could possibly want from him, had become almost as important to me as finding the formula. I told myself—repeatedly—that it was for recon sake, but the truth was, I liked her. A little too much.
I knew how Denazen worked. Either they’d given her some bogus story about how they helped people, or they had something on her. Something they could use to tug her strings and manipulate her actions. After the run-in earlier with Henley, and then mention of the deal she’d made with Anderson, I leaned toward the latter, and wondered if there might be something Ginger and the underground could do to help.
Or maybe me…
“You order me one?” I hadn’t even seen him come up to the table. Wentz took the seat across from me, swiping my beer and taking a long pull. He was dressed in blue jeans and a blue T-shirt with a picture of a melting ice cube in the oversized palm of a man. Across the top, it said, I can melt ice with my mind—it only takes a few minutes.
I flagged down the waitress and we began our descent into oblivion.
As it turned out, Wentz and I had a lot in common. From music to girls—I tried not to get pissed when he mentioned noticing Devin. We sat and drank, just bullshitting for over two hours. For the first time since Dez and I had been at the field party, right before our lives took a header into The Twilight Zone, I was actually having fun. So much fun, in fact, that I almost forgot why I’d come.
“So kill a rumor for me,” I said, lifting the glass to my lips. I wanted to ease into this in case it didn’t work. Just spitting out, hand me the formula, was going to be a bit awkward if I failed to flip the switch on Cain’s ability. A little liquid lubrication, and a slow build. That was my plan. I’d made sure Wentz stayed ahead and was currently five beers to my two. Now was as good a time as any to jump in. “Someone said you were messing with funky genetics at Dromere?”
Wentz looked surprised, them sobered immediately. “I’m not adding heads to rats or making chickens breathe under water, if that’s what you mean.”
I tipped back the rest of the beer, trying not to snicker at the visual. “But there is something?”
He looked into his glass, oblivious to the skimpily-clad dancer trying to gain his attention—and a few of his dollar bills, no doubt. “Dromere is a gene
tic research facility.”
“So, is that a yes?” I set down my glass and leaned back. “I’m not judging, man. I was just asking. There’s a rumor going around that you’re messing with some hardcore stuff and that’s what’s got people unglued.”
The dancer gave up and went in search of more promising prey—an older man three tables away with a serious Hugh Hefner complex. Three girls, all under twenty-five by the looks of it, hanging all over him.
Wentz hesitated, then smiled and downed the rest of his drink. “Did you know that I was really sick as a kid? Like, so sick that the doctors told my parents I’d be the smartest kid in the cemetery.”
“That’s messed up,” I said over the music. A new song—Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days—came on, the volume cranked. At the front of the room, three girls hopped up onto the bar and began a perfectly choreographed routine. They moved to the music, bending and swaying in a way that, for the first time, had the bits of Sheltie, Cain, and I in total agreement—and appreciation. It was hard to look away, but I managed to keep my focus on Wentz.
He nodded. “Yeah, right?”
“Obviously they were wrong.”
He shook his head, a sly smile playing at the edges of his lips. He raised his now-empty glass to the waitress as she passed. “No. They weren’t.”
“Dude. If you’re going to tell me you’re dead and a ghost, I’m going to warn you now I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to buy into that.”
He laughed. “Not even close. You remember that piece of plastic in my office?”
“The one on the wall? The research inspiration?”
“Yeah. It’s a piece from my breathing machine.”
I downed the rest of my glass as the waitress set two new ones in front of us. I ignored mine, but Wentz immediately went to town on his. “Breathing machine?”
He leaned back, nodding. “I was born with a terminal defect. My lungs barely functioned on their own. There was no cure and I wasn’t expected to live to see nine.”
