Mercury Read online

  Even in my earliest days on the team, I’d never been so condescending to a teammate.

  Berenice’s and Lark’s jaws dropped. “She’s not a civilian,” Lark said. “Let’s show some respect to the people who serve with us.”

  Ember blushed scarlet before she replied, “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what needs to be done. I can find Buck.”

  “At what cost?” Reid gasped.

  “Possibly at cost of my life. That’s a sacrifice I have always been willing to make. I’m not afraid.” She narrowed her eyes. “Shocking as that may sound, since I’m little more than a civilian in your eyes.”

  “Well, as your leader, I forbid you to do that,” Reid insisted.

  Instead of lashing out, Ember laughed quietly. It was somehow scarier. “Try to stop me. I dare you.”

  Topher stepped up then, his height imposing on everything and causing the heat to fizzle. “Quick question,” he said, a hint of impatience beneath his joviality. “How the hell did you guys kill Atropos and function as a team for as long as you did?”

  Reid looked sheepish, but Ember glared at Topher. “Jill has a list of problems the length of my arm, but she knew—knows—how to cut the crap and get a mission going. She fought Patrick, she got us together and found a new home, and she got us through that whole Liberty situation. She’s my leader, not Reid.”

  “And you know what your leader Jill would say?” Reid cut in. “She’d remind you that I’m the SIC, which means that I’m the leader right now!”

  Marco grabbed a glass of water and hurled it at the wall. It shattered into tiny shards and sprayed water everywhere. “No, she’d say shut the hell up, you complete jackasses, and go save her! Now, cut the crap and get the mission going!”

  His eyes glowed whitish yellow, with snaky tendrils of energy curling away from them. A hazy light appeared around the edges of his palms. “Defeating the strike team is nothing more than step one of saving Jill, and I swear to God, if you don’t stop arguing over trivial bull like this, I’m going kill you both myself for hindering a rescue mission. I dare the both of you to put that to the test.”

  Ember and Reid wisely stepped back, their heads bowed.

  Marco whirled around to face Reuben. “You’re the more experienced leader. The way I see it, you’re in charge. Assign the teams.”

  Reuben cleared his throat. “Ember, Abby, you go after Buck for the reasons I mentioned before. Berenice, Marco, and Reid will hunt down Kyle. Since he’s the only other man on the team, it follows that he’s the SIC, so he’s second priority. If Reid fails to kill him, both Berenice and Marco have powers that can threaten stone. Lark and I are going after Emily.”

  “Why you two?” I interrupted. “You don’t have your powers, and Emily is lethal.”

  “Emily knows you already, so there’s no surprise there. While I don’t have powers right now, I’m still an expert hand-to-hand fighter, which gives me the edge over a woman with average strength. Lark’s teleportation will give her the element of surprise. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but we should be able to tackle Emily.”

  “That leaves me and Ben,” Topher said. “Up against that Daisy chick.”

  “Right. Your power gives you a measure of protection against most physical attacks, especially knives,” Reuben said. “If she’s a psychic of some sort, then that’s another issue, but there’s just no way to know. I had to hedge my bets. You two will stay here, central to the fighting so Ben can better aid everyone else. Topher, your job is mainly to protect him.”

  Topher nodded, his eyes warm. “Can do.”

  “There’s two more people,” Jen said softly. “I don’t think she and I will be of much help this time.”

  Reuben put his arm around Gabriela, then pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I need you to be brave again.”

  Item Seven

  Partial text of a wanted poster printed by Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency, distributed throughout the summer of 1905.

  TIMOTHY THORNTON TRENT

  WANTED FOR GRAND LARCENY

  Age: 25 to 30

  Height: 5 foot 8

  Weight: 180 pounds

  Build: Stout

  Complexion: Fair

  Timothy T. Trent was in the employ of Old Dominion Southern Railway Ltd. On the night of February 2, he left with $30,000, all of which was composed of $100 bills. The greater portion of the bills were new. Three witnesses report that Timothy T. Trent possesses a device or garment capable of producing “invisibility” which disallowed apprehension. Old Dominion Southern Railway Ltd. offers a suitable reward for the arrest of Timothy T. Trent and his delivery to a duly authorized officer of the Commonwealth of Virginia.

  7

  Gabriela’s ancient grandfather clock chimed an hour to midnight.

  We huddled in the living room, the nervous energy making me shift from foot to foot for something to do.

  Reuben pulled a thick winter hat over Gabriela’s hair, securing it around her ears. “Keep moving,” he said, holding up heavy-duty gloves. “And keep your extremities covered. If you feel dizzy from cold, get out of the wind until you’re warmer, but don’t linger outside. When you’re at Jen’s, drink warm beverages and get into dry clothes. The damp is the most dangerous, so—”

  Gabriela placed a single finger on Reuben’s lips. Reuben closed his eyes and cradled her hand to his cheek. He wore his broken heart on his sleeve.

  I could not watch them without aching to take out Jillian’s necklace and caress it, as if touching the silver heart was to hold her hand.

  “I’ll be fine,” Gabriela whispered. She said something in Spanish, words that did not need translation. Reuben flung his arms around her and shook, though no tears fell. This was the second time he had to say goodbye to his wife like this, but unlike last time, both spouses were in danger.

  Jen, already bundled for the freezing journey ahead of them, descended the stairs with Berenice behind her. They’d been up there for a few minutes, their indistinct voices coming down the stairwell every so often. I didn’t ask why they wanted alone time; Berenice’s bloodshot eyes said everything.

  Jen shouldered a heavy backpack filled with supplies. “Gab, you ready?” She struggled with the heavy bag, and I had to stop myself from offering to take the load from her.

  We were all certain that the strike team had no interest in two civilian women, but should they encounter a more mundane enemy…

  “Wait,” I said. There was at least one thing I could do. I unsheathed my extendable baton from its holster on my thigh and held it out to Jen. “Take this. I hope you never have to use it, but if you do, aim for the knees and throat. Face will do, too.”

  Jen grasped the metal rod and expertly whipped it a little, causing the telescopic baton to extend with a clean snik sound. She grinned. “This thing could really mess someone up. Thanks, Ben.” She collapsed the baton and slipped it into her jacket pocket, then turned back to Gabriela. “Let’s get going. It’s only going to get colder.”

  Jen and Gabriela surveyed us all one last time, then Gabriela opened the front door. They stepped out onto the dark stoop. The door shut.

  Just like that, they were gone. They were on their own as they walked four miles north through fresh three-foot snow drifts. The cloud cover was ubiquitous and the city’s power was out, so no light reflected off the deep snow. The only illumination they had for their path was a small LED flashlight, and whatever ambient light remained.

  Though the city’s seedier inhabitants were just as snowed in as anyone else, if the two young women encountered trouble, we could not help them.

  The decision to send Jen and Gabriela out alone, at eleven at night, into waist-high snow had been nobody’s first choice, but Ember’s report was damning. We were being monitored, a countdown clock ticking over our heads with an unknown amount of time left.

  Reuben hated to risk Gabriela and Jen’s safety by sending them out this night, but he would not risk the alt
ernative. Nobody would. We didn’t have any way to hear from them when they arrived at Jen’s.

  Faith was all we had now.

  Reuben insisted on waiting half an hour after Jen and Gabriela’s departure to send out our own little two- and three-man teams, so they’d be reasonably far from any violence. We stood around in the living room, awkward and tense, none daring to speak above a whisper.

  Abby and Ember huddled in the corner, speaking telepathically, both of them occasionally nodding or shaking their heads. Berenice, Marco, and Reid stood tightly in the corner by the clock, their heads bowed together. Reuben and Topher occasionally peeked through the front window’s curtain, exercising extreme care to not disturb the lace and reveal their position.

  At one point, Reuben turned to Ember and said, “I want you to scan for Buck again, and then Jen and Gabriela.” Had he not been a warrior, he probably would’ve been chewing on his lip.

  “I told you,” Ember said, her voice growing high, “I can’t risk Buck knowing that we’re looking for him. We both know that he’s not moving, so why make me use more mental energy when I’ve got to go out into the snow and find the leader of a strike team in less than an hour?”

  “But—”

  “Reuben,” I cut in. “Give her a break.”

  It said much that he simply turned back around and anxiously peeked through the curtain again.

  Nobody wanted to talk to me, though I craved any distraction. I would’ve happily chatted about the bad old days with Berenice, but I could only stand in the middle of the room and feel the nausea roiling in my stomach. Hot nervousness clashed with the cool air in the house, making clammy sensations run up and down my skin.

  Making matters worse was the fact that every time I looked at the clock, I was forced to remember that Jillian had been in captivity for nearly twenty-four hours. The drive from Saint Catherine to Annapolis was merely nine hours, so it was possible that she’d already endured nearly fifteen hours of interrogation. The worry mixed with the clamminess to form a creeping slime in my veins.

  I sat on the bottom step of the stairwell and closed my eyes. Though I’d been in varying stages of unconsciousness in the hospital, I hadn’t truly slept since the previous night. It seemed indecent to consider rest.

  Jillian, at the very least, wasn’t resting. Sleep deprivation was the first order of business for my family’s guests. She’d have the bare minimum of sleep, food, and water. Usually our guests were also relieved of their clothes, though considering Jillian’s sickness and the weather, it would be unwise of my mother to insist on doing so unless she wanted Jillian to expire far quicker than planned.

  I hid my face in my hands. What was happening to her right now, at that very moment? Was she screaming? Sobbing? Begging for mercy?

  A nasty thought occurred to me: there was a way I could possibly find out. All I needed was access to the deep web, where federal law protecting images of superheroes were an amusing technicality. My brain raced as I strained to remember websites my brother had set up to make a little extra cash on the side. Snuff videos, genuine torture porn, and worse were available in high definition for a price. And videos of a superhero—a famous one? That would fetch a premium.

  A sudden warmth next to me alerted me to someone else’s presence on the stairwell.

  “Don’t open your eyes,” Marco said quietly. “Rest while you can.”

  “I can’t sleep,” I mumbled. As if I could sleep now, knowing that Beau had probably filmed Jillian being tortured. I’d never sleep again.

  “Neither can I. What are you thinking about?”

  “Jillian’s so weak right now.” My chest ached as I admitted it aloud. “She’s sick, she doesn’t have her powers…” Did she know she was being filmed? Was she trying to pass a message on to me?

  Amazingly, Marco chuckled. I jerked my head up and stared at him, my macabre fantasies momentarily extinguished.

  He inclined his head towards me. “I bet she’s so pissed off about that. Like, she’s probably cussing at Beau and answering his questions with ‘your mom,’ then making all sorts of stupid threats about what she’ll do when her powers come back.” He elbowed me. “Talk me through it. When her powers come back, what’ll she do first?”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t give me false hope.”

  “I think she’ll go after Beau first,” Marco said, his volume rising a tiny bit. “She’ll throw, like, a chair through the door of her cell or whatever and jump on him, then beat him to death with her bare hands.”

  “The doors of the holding rooms are three inches of solid steel. They’re electromagnetically locked,” I said dully. “Berenice would struggle with them.”

  “Well, then, she’ll wait until he opens the door. Then she’ll pounce.” He leaned back on his elbows, a little smile spreading across his lips. “And then she’ll roundhouse kick that necromancing freak in the head. His sister will get a knife to the heart. That’s when we’ll all storm the house, by the way,” he said, gazing sidelong at me. “I’ll get into an epic fight to the death with your mom. There’ll be music and lights and everything. Meanwhile, you’ll heal Jill and then go make out somewhere, preferably far away from me. You even have my permission to have sex.”

  “Stop,” I growled. “Her powers won’t return for at least ten days. I don’t know exactly how long they intend to keep her, but she doesn’t have that long.”

  Marco pursed his lips. “You made me do this.”

  “Made you do what?”

  He stood and pulled out his phone. “Dad always said that the fastest way to lose your woman is to let some other guy be her hero.” He tapped out a number on his phone. “I wonder what Dean would do if he heard that big, bad Beau kidnapped Jill. I know she’s married to you, but I bet she’d sleep with him just once. You know, as a thank you.”

  “Give me that!” I shouted, jumping up. I snatched the phone from his hands and threw it across the room, narrowly missing Lark’s head. She swore and glared at me.

  I whipped around and squinted at Marco, whose impassive face only served to make me more livid. “I am going to rescue Jillian, or I am going to die trying. Hell, I’ll go right now and storm that stupid house myself if I must. Screw this strike team crap,” I spat. “I’m tired of waiting for the hammer to fall.”

  Marco’s smile turned into a sly grin. “You really thought I was going to call Dean, didn’t you?”

  “What do you…” I trailed off, aware for the first time that everyone was watching us. Surprise and amusement was evident on the many faces in the room, most of all Berenice’s.

  I could’ve slapped myself. Of course Marco wouldn’t have called Dean. He probably didn’t even know Dean’s phone number. I wasn’t even sure if the irksome Sentinel leader had a phone.

  “You don’t have to storm the house by yourself,” Berenice said, obviously fighting the urge to laugh. “But I feel better about fighting the strike team with you now. In fact,” she said, glancing at the clock, “It’s time we get this mission going. Reid, Marco, let’s go. Just as we planned.”

  The atmosphere had shifted, a new energy buzzing around the room. Marco raised an eyebrow at me, one side of his mouth quirked in an infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk. But my anger cooled as quickly as it came on. He’d intended to bring out the lion in me because that’s what everyone—especially me—needed.

  Marco was dangerous, and he was smart.

  Reuben and Lark left first, following Ember’s directions. Wrapped in a few winter items, they floundered out into the deep snow and began to call Jen and Gabriela’s name, as if they were searching for them. Jen and Gabriela had already been briefed on the plan, so even if they were in earshot, they would not turn back. In reality, they were headed towards Emily’s general location.

  A few minutes later, Marco, Reid, and Berenice left the house with canvas bags in hand, to carry the firewood for which they were supposedly searching. Their path would take them west, near Kyle’s last known location
. They were loud and jocular, with no apparent interest in stealth. Before he left, Reid gave one last tormented look to Ember, but she turned her back to him without so much as a “see you later.”

  Ember and Abby slipped out next, the only two to display an interest in normal superhero activities. They would walk south, stopping occasionally to speak to citizens and offer moral support. Ember theorized that in such a situation, Buck would call for help to lure them in.

  The “search and destroy” approach was flimsy, but what else could we do? As Marco had pointed out, the strike team was weakest when they were divided. It followed that they would attack when we were weakest, not pausing to consider that we’d divided into carefully designed teams. And no matter what, they hadn’t planned for two superhero teams. If ever we would have salvation, it was in that fact.

  Topher shut the door behind Ember and locked the deadbolt. Without speaking, we began to push furniture in front of the door and front window, even the upright piano. Whatever Daisy could do, it was enough to earn her a position on a hit squad. If she was going to kill us, she’d have to work for it.

  When the last chair had been unceremoniously placed on the pile of furniture, Topher clapped me on the shoulder. “So, did you think that superhero life would be like this?”

  Something about Topher’s easygoing manner encouraged me to answer honestly. “No. I imagined a lot more thrilling rescues and a lot less hiding.”

  Topher laughed. “Sometimes I think hiding is all we do, honestly. We hide from the elders. We hide from our leaders. Heck, in cities like Baltimore we even hide from the criminals sometimes. Hide our faces, hide our feelings, hide our real life.”

  I slid down the wall until I was sitting. He copied me, sitting next to me and relaxing with a long breath.