Powerless (14 page)

Dante crashes shoulder first into Jeremy, who shoves him into Nitro, who falls to the ground from the force of the impact.

“Hey!” Nitro kicks out at Jeremy’s ankle, tripping him.

Dante lunges at Draven.

In a matter of moments the four guys are beating the crap out of each other. Fists are flying, knees and elbows are being driven into guts and jaws, and curses permeate the air. At least they seem to be relying on their muscle, not their powers. Jeremy’s technopathy wouldn’t stand a chance.

For long seconds, Rebel and I just stare in shock. I’d figured it would be the three villains against Jeremy. But it’s not that way at all. Jeremy and Nitro are going at it, and Draven and Dante are hitting each other at least as hard. Maybe harder. And every once in a while, they switch, so that at any given moment any one of them is beating on any one of the other three. Like a musical-chairs version of a parking-lot brawl. It’s every super for himself.

“We should stop them,” I say.

Rebel throws out her arm to keep me from interfering. “No, let them fight.” She throws me a weary look. “They need to work off some anger.”

“But if it looks like they’re going to kill each other…”

“Oh yeah,” she agrees. “Then we’ll definitely step in.”

Almost on cue, Jeremy lets out a particularly plaintive screech.

“And that would be now,” Rebel says. Hands outstretched, she heads for Dante and Nitro. A half second later, both guys are suspended several feet off the ground. The fact that they’re floating doesn’t cool their fight; it just forces them to change tactics. Nitro fires up a glowing, pink energy ball while Dante sends a gust of gale-force wind at his face.

Rethinking her strategy, Rebel releases Dante and grabs his shirt—or what’s left of it.

“Dante, babe. Come on. Stop. Please.”

He shrugs her off, pretty gently considering he’s got Nitro wrapped in a small F5 tornado.

I don’t have a power that will help me break up the fight, so I wing it and hope I don’t die. Between Jeremy and Draven, my ex is more likely to listen to reason. But since Draven is kneeling on top of him, plowing his fist into Jeremy’s face, I don’t think Jeremy is in any position to help me out here.

A series of high-pitched beeps sound from the vicinity of the van.

With a muttered curse of my own, I wade into the tangle of bodies and grab Draven’s arm before he pounds Jeremy again.

“Stop!” I tell him as authoritatively as I can muster. “Stop before you kill each other.”

I half expect him to shove me out of the way, but he pauses. He looks wild, his eyes a bright blue that glows under the parking-lot lights. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, and I can see a bruise forming on his right cheekbone. Looks like Jeremy got in a couple of good hits.

The series of beeps sounds again in a familiar pattern.

“Stop,” I tell him again, more softly this time. “Please.”

He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. Jeremy, of course, takes the opportunity to punch Draven in the stomach.

Draven’s breath whooshes out of him.

“Hey!” I yell at Jeremy as he shoves Draven off him and climbs to his feet.

I expect him to kick or hit Draven again. Instead, Jeremy staggers toward the van, weaving drunkenly from all the punches he’s taken.

When the beeps start again, Jeremy reaches for something and the sound cuts out mid-pattern.

Without the energy of another battle going on beside them, the fight goes out of Nitro and Dante. Nitro shoots his latest fireball—a crazy swirl of green and blue—off into the trees. Dante lets his tornado twist away into nothingness. Rebel lowers Nitro back down to the pavement, and the two villains stare each other down, breathing heavily.

Rebel throws her hands up in the air, as if to say,
Finally
.

“Where are you going?” I demand when I notice Jeremy climbing into the van.

Seriously? I just saved his butt, and he’s going to bail?

He waves me away, but Rebel isn’t letting him off that easy. “I know this whole thing was crazy, Jer, but we can’t—”

“Shut up!” he snaps.

Draven’s eyes narrow and he starts for the van. I have visions of another fight breaking out and move to throw myself between him and Jeremy, but I don’t have to. Jeremy presses a finger to his lips. He’s holding a device in his other hand that looks like a walkie-talkie, and voices are coming from it. Familiar voices. Familiar
hero
voices.

“Listen,” Jeremy whispers harshly. “Someone’s in Mr. Malone’s office.”

The bug. Oh, God. The bug Rebel and I planted is actually working. I’ve been so caught up in our failure that I completely forgot about our success. I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.

Rebel and I crowd around to listen, and seconds later the villains join us. The walkie-talkie has gone silent except for the clicking of keyboard keys. We hold our breath waiting to hear if there’s going to be any more talking.

Jeremy opens the passenger door, pulls out his laptop, and sets it on the front seat. I wish I could say it’s the first time I’ve lost shotgun to one of his computers. A few keystrokes later, he opens a remote desktop mirror and his screen shows everything that is happening on Mr. Malone’s monitor. All of us watch in shock as Rebel’s dad types a memo to the officers of the Collective.

June 21

To: Superhero Collective

From: Rex Malone

Subject: ESH Lab Closure

Recent occurrences have brought to light villain knowledge of the ESH Lab at location Bravo Charlie. Therefore, it is my recommendation that we close the Boulder facility immediately and indefinitely.

This is not a decision I make lightly, as doing so will inconvenience many of our staff members, as well as disrupt numerous top-priority experiments and projects. However, we have had multiple security breaches during these last few days, and for the sake of our research, as well as the future security of the League, it is necessary.

As of 8 p.m. on June twenty-fourth, the doors of this lab will be shut. All research and activities will be relocated to Lima Whiskey. Every effort will be made to do this with as little disruption to our scientists and their work as possible. We will use all safety precautions to ensure that the secrecy of the new facility remains unaffected by this move.

Thank you for your understanding in this matter. I will make every effort to keep you updated on our plans and progress once the move is complete.

Rex Malone

League President

cc: file, TR, SecLev5

The typing stops and we all watch as Mr. Malone saves the memo and emails it to the ten Collective officers who serve with him. He blind-copies two other addresses that aren’t on League domains. Seconds later, he logs out, and the League logo screen saver bounces around on Jeremy’s laptop like a shield-shaped ping-pong ball.

“Is it done?” a harsh voice from the speaker asks.

“Yes,” Mr. Malone answers. “It’s just a precaution, but I think it’s wise. It never pays to be careless with villains.”

“I agree. Some of our research is…quite delicate in nature. We would hate for it to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Exactly.”

There are a few unidentifiable sounds, followed by the clatter of ice cubes and the slosh of pouring liquid. A lid is screwed back on. Mr. Malone swallows deeply.

There are a couple of clicks. A door opens and shuts. And then there’s nothing. Just silence as the six of us continue to stare at the computer, the knock-down, drag-out fight forgotten in the wake of these much larger, more worrisome problems.

Jeremy sets down the walkie-talkie and begins typing furiously.

“June twenty-fourth,” Rebel hisses after a minute. “That’s—”

“Three days away,” Dante finishes for her.

“Three days and Deacon will be gone,” Draven says.

Deacon
and
my
mother. Gone
. The entire lab moved to a top secret hero facility. The people—the villains—housed at ESH simply disappearing without a trace.

And that’s assuming my mom is being held at the lab. Really, she could be anywhere. Literally anywhere. At least we know where Deacon is—for now. He’s still within our reach, and he can’t hold on for long. As much as it hurts to say, he has to be our first priority. Mom would agree.

Hopefully we’ll find some clue about her whereabouts along the way.

Two days ago, my biggest concern would have been Mom losing her research. Today…my perspective has changed. A lot.

This can’t happen. It just can’t.

“Don’t suppose either of you birds know where this new top secret facility is?” Nitro asks.

Rebel’s eyes meet mine, and one look tells me she’s as lost as I feel. Neither of us had any idea such a facility existed. The ESH lab was kept a secret so our research wouldn’t fall into villain hands, but it was never a secret from other heroes. Up until a couple of days ago, I wouldn’t have had a clue why they’d need such a place—or what might go on there. Now, I’m terrified that I know
exactly
what’s going on there.

“We have to get Deacon before ESH shuts down,” I say, frantic now that the truth is sinking in. “We have to get him and then find my mom. We have to—”

“We have three days.” Draven brushes his hand over my lower back. It’s a fleeting touch, nothing serious really, considering how close we’re all standing to see the computer screen, but it comforts me anyway. It helps me draw my first breath in what feels like forever. And the next one. And the one after that. I’m not alone in this. I’m not the only one hurting. And I’m not the only one desperate to get my loved one back.

Unlike the villains, I can hold out hope that my mom is just being questioned, just being…kept. I can believe that she’s not being tortured, or worse. Draven and Dante don’t have that luxury.

“I doubt we have that much time,” Jeremy says, not taking his eyes off his screen as lines of undecipherable computer code scroll by. “Mr. Malone wants the whole lab shut down in three days. Which means that whatever plans they have for Deacon—” The words hang there as he pauses and clears his throat. I’m imagining the worst now, and I can tell by the way the others tense that they are too. “Whatever they’re going to do to Deacon, they won’t want to wait until the last day.”

“So what does that mean?” Dante demands. “We have less time?”

“If we’re lucky,” is Jeremy’s grim answer.

If
we’re not already too late.
He doesn’t say it, but we all feel the unspoken words.

My stomach pitches, but I ignore it. Someone needs to take charge. And since everyone else seems shell-shocked, that someone is going to have to be me. The sooner we save Deacon’s life, the sooner we can move on to looking for my mom.

“Jeremy, you have to get us in,” I tell him, forcing a steadiness into my voice that is far from what I’m feeling. “Find a way around the villain signature sensors, because we’re going in as a team.”

Draven looks at me, hot and powerful emotions lurking behind his gaze.

That’s right. We are stronger as a team, not fractured like a bunch of kids fighting over who gets to play with the cool toys at recess. And it’s time we start acting like it.

“I’m on it,” Jeremy says. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

“Let’s get started,” I tell the rest of the group. “We have two days to figure this out.”

“I’m in,” Rebel says. “Where do we start?”

“With figuring out how to blow that lab wide open without hurting my cousin or Kenna’s mom,” Draven answers firmly.

“Exactly.” I straighten my spine. “Because one way or another, we’re going in.”

“Tell me again why we need three containers of chocolate milk to break into the lab?” Draven asks suspiciously. Not that I blame him—the whole cranberry juice debacle is still fresh in all our minds.

“Because Jeremy is hypoglycemic and it helps keep his blood sugar steady if he loads up on chocolate milk when he’s stressed out,” I tell him.

Draven rolls his eyes as he drops the bottles of Nesquik into our cart. “That’s some kind of ex-boyfriend you’ve got there.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a genius. Through the years, I’ve learned not to question his bizarre beverage choices as long as he gets the job done.”

Draven nods and adds an extra bottle of chocolate milk to the cart. It makes me smile as I push it to the next aisle and pick up a box of Froot Loops for Rebel and a pack of chocolate chip cookies for Nitro.

It’s been eight hours since Rebel, Jeremy, and I failed to find Deacon at ESH labs, and we’ve spent most of that time holed up in a hotel room at the Extended Stay a few blocks from my house, trying to come up with a new plan. It’s not the optimum situation with six of us crowded into a two-room suite, but it was the safest option we could come up with. Right now, not showing up on hero radar is a lot more important than comfort, especially since we have to go back in to find Deacon.

And this time we’re all going. That’s nonnegotiable, at least according to the villains. Considering the overwhelming guilt Rebel feels over our failure and the knock-down, drag-out the guys got into in the nightclub parking lot, I’m inclined to agree.

Which means we need a really good plan, one that won’t get us killed before we can rescue Deacon…and my mother. Thankfully Jeremy has some ideas on where to start, because I’m pretty much tapped out. I’m so freaked out about my mom and everything else that I can barely think.

In the produce department, Draven and I pick up some apples and oranges. I know the guys think all we need is junk food to survive, but a little nutrition never hurt anyone. I’m reaching for some grapes when I get a weird tingle down my spine. I glance up just in time to catch someone watching me. Watching us.

I don’t recognize him and he’s too far away for me to see if he has a tattoo beneath one of his ears, but every instinct I have screams that he’s a super. I start toward him—but Draven wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in to his side. Then he ducks his head and starts whispering absolute gibberish to me.

I’m about to shrug him off, but he whispers, “Don’t.” His arm tightens around my waist. He half smirks, half snarls at the guy watching us and—to my surprise—the guy flushes before walking away.

“What was that about?” I hiss as Draven grabs a couple of bunches of grapes without even looking at them, then tosses them in the basket.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

I dig in my heels, refusing to budge. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“I told you the truth.” He sighs and runs an exasperated hand through his hair. “It was nothing.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t believe you.”

“That’s your problem then, isn’t it?” He reaches for the cart and steers it down the aisle away from me.

I follow him, grabbing his arm. “Draven, if there’s something I need to know—”

“He was looking at you, okay?” The words seem to burst from him. “He was looking at you and I didn’t like it.”

My mind swirls. He can’t be implying what I think he is. “What-I-he—” I stumble for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriate response that won’t make me sound like an idiot. Finally, I clear my throat. “You mean, he recognized me or something? Should we be concerned? Who is he?”

“Just a guy I know from school. And he wasn’t looking at you like he recognized you, Kenna. He was looking at you like he
wanted
to recognize you. Like he wanted to get to know you. So I took care of it. Sorry.” He turns and starts pulling random junk off the shelves.

I’m left staring after him, feeling all strange inside. Because Draven just admitted he didn’t like another guy being interested in me. Which means what? That
he’s
interested in me? Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. Not because I don’t like the idea of him thinking about me in that way. But because I like it too much.

He’s a villain and I’m…not. I’m not technically a hero either. I guess that makes me majorly confused. And more than a little attracted to a guy I have no business falling for.

Draven doesn’t say anything else about the other guy—or what he’s admitted—and neither do I. Partly because I don’t know what to say, and partly because this isn’t the time or place for that kind of discussion.

Although for a villain and an ordinary, is there really ever going to be a perfect time?

We’re pretty quiet as we pick up other supplies—sandwich fixings, carrots, granola bars, a few different bags of chips. As we pass back through the dairy aisle on the way to the checkout counter, I grab a couple more bottles of chocolate milk. It’s going to be a long day, and the last thing we need is Jeremy running out of his very particular, very peculiar brand of fuel.

Draven helps me unload at checkout, but when I reach for my wallet, he insists on paying for the groceries. I try to fight him on it. Owing a villain doesn’t sit easy with me. But by the time I get my debit card out of my wallet, he’s already handed over the money.

A hundred and fifty dollars. In cash. Of course. We’re lying low. Under the radar. I stare at my debit card with horror. I almost messed everything up. I don’t think our visit to the lab raised any red flags last night, but there’s no guarantee the guards won’t mention it to Mr. Malone. No guarantee that he won’t start putting the pieces together and trace back through our digital trail. After all, my house didn’t get ransacked for nothing, and the last thing I need is for the heroes to know where I am or where I’ve been. Or worse, who I’ve been with.

Jeremy is adamant about leaving no tracks. Avoid cameras, keep cell phones powered off, and above all else, don’t pay with credit. I should know better.

“Thanks,” I mutter as we walk to the car.

Draven looks genuinely perplexed. “For what?”

“I almost ruined everything back there. I didn’t think about using cash.”

That’s not like me. I’m the planner, the one who thinks about every detail from every angle. The one who doesn’t make mistakes. But ever since Draven broke into the lab, ever since my life turned upside down, I seem to be making blunder after blunder.

It makes me feel like I don’t know myself anymore. Like this whole situation is turning me into someone I’m not.

Three days ago, I was an ordinary girl in a superhero world. It wasn’t ideal, but it was tolerable. It was normal. It made sense. Black was black, and white was white. Good was good, and bad was…bad. Villains were bad.

Now, everything is topsy-turvy. Nothing makes sense. And as for life being black and white? I feel like I’m drowning in a million shades of gray. Like the suits of the Ray-Ban brigade.

I don’t know what’s right anymore. How can I when I might be falling for a villain? And he might be falling right back?

But I have more important things to focus on right now. I have to find my mom. Stop them from torturing Deacon. Figure out how to stop what I’m beginning to think is an entire hero agenda—not just one project with one villain, but a massive program that spans decades, has had countless victims, and involves bugging the house of the League’s most prominent scientist and then kidnapping her. That’s a pretty big freaking agenda.

I don’t know how we’re going to do what we need to, or what’s going to happen after. Who knows. My whole life could fall apart completely. But I can’t stress about that now. There are too many other things at stake.

“Don’t worry about the debit card,” Draven tells me as he transfers the bags from the cart to the van. “You did fine.”

“No. I didn’t. If you hadn’t been here—”

“But I was.” He stops and looks me in the eye. “And I’m going to keep being here. I’ll save you from mistakes; you’ll save me from mistakes. That’s how this whole partner thing works.”

“Partners?” I repeat, rolling the word around on my tongue, trying to decide if I like the way it feels. Turns out I do—maybe too much.

“Partners,” he reiterates. “Unless you lock me in a refrigerator again. Then it’s every person for him or herself.”

“Are you still stuck on that?” I demand with a roll of my eyes. “I already told you, it was the most logical—”

“No.” He leans forward so his face is only inches from mine. His beautiful blue eyes glow with intensity and determination as he stares me down. “It really wasn’t.”

Eight hours ago—hell, eight minutes ago—I would have argued that point with him. Would have told him I only did what I needed to keep everybody safe.

But after everything that has happened, standing right here, right now, breathing the same air as him, working on the same side as him, it’s impossible for me to form any other thought. Impossible for me to do anything but stare at Draven and wonder what it would be like if he leaned forward just a little and—

I cut off the thought. I mean, seriously, what am I even thinking? That I want Draven to kiss me?

I flash back to the intensity when he said he didn’t like that guy looking at me. My heart beats faster. It gets harder to breathe.

A part of me is screaming that this is impossible. He’s a villain. He’s dangerous. He left me tied to a lab table. I can’t trust him. I just can’t. I shouldn’t…

Then again, I locked him in a refrigerator and he still wants to be partners. That has to count for something. Right?

I don’t know anymore. I focus on Draven’s lips and think about what it would be like to kiss him. He shakes his head as if he’s waking from a trance. Then he steps back and slams shut the back door of the van.

“Time to go,” he says.

I nod, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms along the legs of my jeans. Right. Go. We need to go. And I need to focus on the job at hand. Things are messed up enough. Adding any additional complications to the mix would be absolutely crazy.

Except, as I climb into the front passenger seat of the van, I can’t help thinking about how warm his body felt next to mine. How his eyes had that crazy, sexy look in them. How much I really, really want to know what he tastes like.

“Here.” After starting the van, Draven drops a small bag in my lap.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Open it and see.”

I stare at him uncertainly before reaching into the bag. I pull out three of my favorite chocolate bars. They’re the same kind that I was trying to get out of the vending machine the night we met.

“I don’t understand.”

“You never got your candy the other night, you know, with the break-in and all. So”—he shrugs—“I figured I owed you.”

His voice is steady, but his fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel. He doesn’t put the van in gear. Is he waiting for something?

I want to reach over and cover his hand with my own, press a kiss to his darkly stubbled cheek. But neither is a smart move. Not now when everything is such an uncertain mess. So instead, I just say, “Thank you. That was really nice.”

“It’s a couple candy bars, Kenna,” he tells me with a smirk. “Not world peace.”

True. But he didn’t have to buy them for me. They aren’t necessary, not the way Jeremy’s chocolate milk is. That he did it anyway, because he was thinking of me, feels…nice. The simple gesture makes me feel special and that’s not an emotion I’m usually acquainted with.

“Well, thank you, anyway.” I open one of the bars and break off a piece. Then I hold it out to him. Instead of taking it from me, he leans toward me. Opens his mouth a little. My throat goes desert dry as I feed him the chocolate.

His lips brush against my fingers as he closes his mouth around the candy, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

To hell with everything I just told myself about villains and complications. I want to kiss him.

I lean forward, nearly falling off the van’s bucket seat in the process. But I don’t because he’s leaning forward too—meeting me, catching me. We’re so close that I can feel his warm, sweet breath against my cheek, my lips.

He stops, though. He doesn’t move any closer, and I know he’s waiting for me. Making sure this is what I want. This villain, this self-proclaimed “bad guy” is turning the control over to me, letting me make the decision. It’s something no other guy—not even Jeremy—has done.

This sends me over the edge, and I close the last of the distance between us in a rush.

I brush my lips over his, my eyes fluttering closed. And then nearly jump through the roof when his cell phone explodes with the old Guns N’ Roses song, “Welcome to the Jungle.”

He groans and curses, but pulls away. “Dante,” he mutters bitterly before yanking his phone out of his jeans pocket. “What?”

He listens for a second. “Slow down, Rebel. What’s going on?”

I sit up at the mention of my best friend’s name and give him a quizzical look. He holds up a hand for me to wait.

“They’re doing what?” His voice gets louder. “We’re on our way.”

“What’s wrong?” I demand as Draven throws the van into drive and barrels through the parking lot and out onto the street.

“Nitro,” he spits out.

All kinds of visions flash through my head. “Did he burn down the hotel?”

“Not yet. But give him ten minutes.”

I’m a little afraid to ask what that means, so I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the ride except to ask, “Is Rebel okay?”

“She’s fine. Dante won’t let anything happen to her.”

We squeal into the parking lot, and Draven barely takes time to turn off the van before he’s racing through the lobby to our suite. We’re in the back corner of the top floor so it’s a bit of a run, especially when Draven refuses to wait for the elevator. We asked for that room because there were no close neighbors—a fact I’m grateful for when I follow Draven inside to find Jeremy hanging from the spinning ceiling fan while Nitro lobs small orange fireballs at him.

So far, it doesn’t look like any of them have hit Jeremy, but with Nitro’s control issues, I’m not sure if that’s by accident or design. Then again, his aim could be messed up by the fact that Jeremy keeps trying to fry him. He’s using his technopathic powers to send volts of electricity straight at Nitro from every object in the room that is currently plugged in.