 
# Empowered: Agent

### Empowered series #1

## Dale Ivan Smith
Copyright © 2017 by Dale Ivan Smith

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design by Yocla Designs

Published by Dale Ivan Smith

Portland, Oregon

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

www.daleivansmith.com

 Created with Vellum
To LeAnn, always and forever.

### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Empowered: Traitor Chapter 1

Also by Dale Ivan Smith

Acknowledgments

About the Author

# Chapter 1

It was the three-month anniversary of my being paroled from Special Corrections. All I wanted was a job, to get out of this wet dress, and a break from the chorus of plant voices singing their happiness in my head now that it was finally raining again.

Today's interview went like all the rest for the last month. Badly. At least the weaselly interviewer didn't try to steal a look at my chest. He was too scared of me, the paroled rogue Empowered. An interview without chest ogling to piss me off was nice for a change, but the rest of the interview sucked.

Worse, the plants would not shut up.

I stepped off the bus at the 151st Street stop and into rain. My damn heel caught in a sidewalk crack. Just managed to save it. Couldn't afford to break a heel. Not until they'd helped me find a job.

The damn crabgrass growing up from the crack in the sidewalk brushed against my legs and hissed softly in my mind.

Begging for my help. It needed more water.

I could do it. I could urge the roots to grow and spread, pulling water and nitrogen from the soil. I could make the blades wider, to catch more of the drizzling rain. I could help it, give it just what it wanted.

And go back to prison. For life, this time.

Convicted rogue Empowered weren't allowed to use their "gift."

Period.

When I spotted the cardboard sign with the familiar looking sketch of a seeing eye pyramid fastened to the bus stop sign, I was already in a crappy mood.

I yanked it off the metal post. The pyramid was sketched in deft little strokes, and the eye radiated squiggly lines of electric power. If I squinted, I could just make out the faint curve of a smiling mouth in the pyramid below the eye.

I knew who drew that.

Gus Silco. My old "teammate" in the Renegades, and a weasel if there ever was one. The cardboard was damp, not soaked through, so it couldn't have been there very long. Which meant he might still be hanging around here. This was his crazy way of leaving me a message, letting me know he was here. What I wanted to know was _why_ he was here. He was the last person I ever wanted to see again. Looked like I had no choice though, if only to get him the hell away from me, once and for all.

I tore the sign in half and tossed it in the street. Started looking for Gus.

Douglas fir trees ran in a line behind a slat-board fence. The firs murmured sleepily in my mind like softly humming giants. They liked the drizzle, and for an instant their pleasure made me happy. Only an instant, and then my resentment bubbled up. What had my power ever done for me except land me in prison?

My parole might forbid me from using my power, but it couldn't stop me from hearing plants in my mind. It wasn't like I had a choice. I had to fight to keep the plant chorus from drowning everything else out, and I couldn't completely stop hearing them.

Just like I couldn't stop detecting others like me. My skin tingled. Another Empowered was close.

Gus. It had to be him, since I couldn't see anyone else.

Damn him. Jerk would get me thrown back in prison.

"Gus, I know you're here. Appear already." There wasn't much for him to blend into here. Across the street, a line of abandoned cars slowly rusted in front of a fenced junkyard. The only plants there were a few dead Queen Anne's Lace from last summer. I pulled my power's awareness back before it could feel the dead plants and shuddered. The dead plants couldn't tell me what I needed to know.

But he had to be over there.

"Gus, come out!"

He didn't.

There was an old Ford pickup with a tarp-covered bed directly across the street from me. "Okay, so listen. I don't want to see you!" I shouted. "Ever again!" He was probably standing there smirking at me, his body blending in with the junker truck. Perfect camouflage for a scumbag. What the hell did the weasel want with me, anyway?

I turned and headed for the Shadow Wood Apartments, wiping the damn rain off my face and keeping my eyes fixed on the apartment complex sign. Didn't work. I heard footsteps on the pavement coming up behind me. I kept walking. No way was I talking to that traitor.

The apartment manager had gotten the tags on the sign painted over again, but hadn't bothered to clean up the bottles and crap all over the ground.

God, I had to get Grandmother Ruth and my sisters out of this dump.

But I had to have a job first. I could still hear Gus behind me, so I walked faster. Along with using my power, talking to a known criminal, normal or Empowered, busted my parole. I'd go back to prison for life. My family would be hosed.

The moss under my feet moaned softly. It would be so easy to reach out with my power, caress it, and cover the trashy ground with a thick carpet of the stuff.

No more. Never again. I pushed the urge away and kept walking, almost running now. Mister Get Me Thrown Back in Prison was right behind me.

Then I heard swearing and the clink of bottles.

I whipped back around. Gus sprawled on the dirt next to the sign, face down on slimy wet newspapers. His jacket hood had fallen back, and I could see long dark hair beneath a knitted black cap. A lone beer bottle rolled across the sidewalk and clattered over the edge into the street, while two more bottles spun slowly near his feet. Tripped by the party from last night. If I wasn't so ready to punch him, I'd be laughing.

The fall must have broken his concentration, and without that, he couldn't "blend in," and hide.

He still wore that grungy old army field jacket of his. It was ancient, made just after the Three Days War. There were blank patches where the radiation detectors used to be.

Gus got onto his knees and looked up at me. The same old Gus. Pale face, and nervous eyes that never looked in any one place for long. His black hair hung down from under a dirty orange cap. He was maybe five years older than me, but he looked...old.

I clenched my fists. "Why are you here, Gus?"

He got up, brushing newspaper and wet leaves off his cargo pants. Working himself up to say whatever it was he had come here to say. He was shorter than me by a lot, so he had to look up.

He was taking too freaking long to get to the point. "I can't talk with you, Gus. It's against my parole. Not that you would know about parole. Since you skipped out before they came for us."

Gus looked guilty. He should be back on his knees begging me to forgive him "Saying I'm sorry won't cut it, will it, Mat?"

"Damn straight it won't."

He swallowed again. "I want to make it up to you." His voice sounded hoarse now.

I shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backward until he hit the sign with a loud thump. He vanished.

"That's right, pull your blender act," I said. Blender had been his nickname back in the Renegades. His power was great for running away.

Gus reappeared behind me, in the parking lot. "I can make it up to you."

Hah. Make it up to me. That was a laugh. But okay, I'd bite. "How can you make up for cutting and running, _Blender_?"

I wanted to shout at him, _and how will you bring Tanya back from being dead_? My best friend, dead because of this waste of skin.

He blinked. "I can help you."

Blood pounded in my ears. Just like some of the other inmates in Special Corrections who said _they_ could help me. No thanks. I just wanted to get a job and not deal with creeps like Gus. "Leave me alone, Gus." I stormed past him. I managed to not kick him in the crotch, and headed toward my apartment building.

I looked back and Gus was still following me, not even trying to hide this time.

I couldn't let Ruth or the twins see me talking to a scumbag like Gus. They'd recognize my old teammate. Ruth knew full well I wasn't supposed to talk to criminals.

I wanted to kill the bastard, but couldn't.

And he wasn't going to leave me alone until he'd said his piece.

I stopped. "All right, Gus, you can say what you came to say. But not here in the open where everyone can see us." I nodded at the complex's storage building. "Follow me," I said. "But first, do your Invisible Man act."

He vanished. My skin still tingled from him being nearby. All of us Empowered are able to detect other Empowered when we're near each other. It means we have a hell of a time sneaking up on each other. Gus's blending gave him an advantage and the little creep always took maximum advantage.

I went to the storage building, unlocked the door, pushed it open.

"In," I said. I waited long enough for him to get inside, then followed. I turned on the light, and closed the door behind me.

Gus stood in the middle of the room, flanked by storage cages, looking like a trapped animal. Which he was as far as I was concerned. Bastard weasel.

He flinched when I walked up to him and looked at his hands. "Your hair is so different, it's so short now."

I grabbed his jacket, hauled him up close to me. "What the hell does that have to do with anything? You're wasting my time, jerk."

His Adam's apple was bobbing like a cartoon character's. He was scared to death. Sweating. Gus had always been a bit fragile. Back in the Renegades, the Professor used to say Gus took careful handling, that fear drove him more than most people. Yeah, well, Gus's fear killed the Professor and my best friend because he wasn't there when we needed him.

And now he was back, trying to screw up my life again.

"I'm so-so-orry," he stuttered. "Pl-lease--" I gave him a hard look, which shut him up. He wouldn't have lasted a day in Special Corrections.

"Cut to the damn chase, Gus." The longer this went on, the more chance there was of someone seeing us together, even holed up inside this storage building.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He wore those old, beat-up fingerless gloves of his. He always wore fingerless gloves.

"Okay." He swallowed again. I wanted to yell, _enough with the swallowing_ , but kept my mouth shut. Anything to get him to spit out what he wanted to tell me.

"I can hook you up with people who can help you."

"I don't want your help, Gus." The blood pounded louder in my ears. "Or these _people's_ help either _._ " I glared at him

He surprised me. He didn't duck his head, kept right on talking. "Mat, you need help. This group can give you what you need."

"Group, Gus? _Group!"_ I grabbed the front of his coat again. "Let me guess, these are Empowereds, aren't they?" Idiot. He was stupider than I thought.

He nodded.

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

"The Scourge can help you."

"The Scourge! Don't fuck with me, Gus."

He shook his head frantically. "I'm not, Mat, I'm not! I'm in the Scourge."

"Stop lying!" I slammed him into a storage cage. I wanted to slam him again and again. He deserved it. I leaned in close to him. "The Scourge is gone, asshole."

He winced. "No, they aren't."

Gus was lying. He had to be. The Scourge had been destroyed while I was in prison. The world's Enemy Number One, the biggest, baddest super-villain group, ever. The Renegades had been nothing by comparison. But the Scourge had still gone down. Rogue Empowereds always got caught in the end.

"Why are you wasting my time with this bull?"

His eyes were wide, spit on his lips. The weasel. "It's true, Mat! I'm in the Scourge."

Gus had gone crazy while I was locked up. He must have. He never would have had the guts to try and feed me made-up garbage like this crap story.

"I can talk to my cell leader. He can help."

I ground my teeth. Cell leader? What a load of crap. "You came here just to give me a BS story about the Scourge somehow coming back from the dead?"

He wouldn't stop. "I'm not lying. Listen, I've got a place." He told me the address. "Think it over. Come see me. I can get you in, I promise."

That _was_ it. I slugged him, fist smashing his jaw, sending spit flying as his head snapped back. He slid down the cage's mesh.

Damn, it felt good.

I yanked him to his feet, frogmarched him to the door, and shoved him through.

"Leave and don't come back."

He vanished, leaving spit and tears splattered on the pavement.

Gus was a crazy fool. I was done with crazy fools, especially him. I slammed the door behind me. What in God's name had gotten into him to try and feed me lies? I shook my head. He was crazy as a rabid bat.

I looked up and saw Ruth watching me from her bedroom window.

Ruth was going to be pissed. I pounded up three flights of stairs to the apartment. I'd tried to talk her into moving to a ground floor unit, but she liked this one, said the exercise was good for her. But these days she didn't leave her apartment much, thanks to Thalik's disease. She also said she liked being able to see the world from higher up. I couldn't figure out why. Why would you want to see a dingy apartment complex and a bunch of trees? I sure as hell didn't.

I reached our door and stopped because I still wanted to break something. I took a deep breath, then went inside. The living room was empty, no sign of Ruth, or the twins.

The television, a big thirty-inch model, was on, tuned to the Triple N, the National News Network. Ruth must have been watching it. The twins could care less about the news.

"Rebuilding Russia: An Ongoing Concern," crawled across the lower part of the screen below an image of New Moscow. Whatever. I was about to turn it off when the video switched to a reporter talking to a woman in a white UN military uniform and a huge man dressed in a deep blue jumpsuit with a gold Hero Council badge. I shuddered. I recognized him. I'd seen him the day they caught me. My stomach felt like ice. The day Tanya and the Professor and the rest of the Renegades died.

That was Titan, President of the Hero Council and the only founding member still alive. He was still built like a giant linebacker even though he was ancient, like seventy-five years old. The reporter asked him something about unrest in Russia. Titan said rebuilding always takes longer than people want. Thanks, Mister Hero Council President. He went on about the responsibility of sanctioned Empowered to aid society and how the Russian Rogue Empowered were only holding their people back. Sure, if Empowered weren't "sanctioned," meaning part of the Hero Council, then they were part of the problem. The only choice they gave you if you didn't join up was to sign on the dotted line, saying you'd never use your power.

I turned off the television.

I heard Ruth coughing in her bedroom. The racking cough made my skin crawl. I went through the kitchen, past the sink filled with dirty dishes that the twins obviously hadn't taken care of and the still full garbage can, down the short hall to the two bedrooms. Ruth's was the far one. The door to the twin's room was covered in new doom ballad posters. Apparently Four Horsemen was their favorite band this week. I shook my head. Predictable.

I knocked on Ruth's door, pushed it open. It was freezing in there.

Ruth was sitting up in bed. She coughed again, but shook her head no when I started to move forward. I stood there, twisting my hands. Ruth looked terrible. Her face had more lines in it than this morning, and her short gray hair was a mess.

Her reading glasses were on the nightstand, on top of her current book, something about the Long Winter. Ruth loved history and current events. Magazines on politics, foreign affairs, and science were stacked on another little table by the window.

"You're up," I said lamely. That's me, Miss Obvious. I hated seeing her like this. Thalik's disease was the bitch queen of all diseases. The mystery disease that had no cure. No one even knew why you got it. Sure, it was rare, but what good was rare when it got you, or someone you loved?

Ruth sipped from the water bottle she kept by her bed, hands trembling, and took a pill.

Her skin was really pale and she'd lost so much muscle since I'd gone to prison.

No cure whatsoever for Thalik's.

She was taking expensive medication to help her cope, but was still dying day by day. If I could get a job and hold it and then apply for a medical grant, maybe get some legal help, Ruth could get on a trial for some sort of new drug. Something. Anything. She had raised me and the twins after our parents died. Been there for us, was still there for us, despite everything.

I had to find a way to help her and get the girls on the right path.

She put down the water bottle, wiped her mouth and looked at me.

"Mathilda," she said, using my full name. Only Ruth called me that. Her gray eyes searched my face. "Who was that you were with just now?"

"Someone I used to know."

"Someone from the Renegades."

"I told him to fuc—I I told him to get out of here and not come back."

"Why was he here in the first place?" Ruth was angry, but she did the under control type anger, not like me.

I squirmed. "He wanted to make up for something."

"That was your friend Gus, wasn't it?" Even sick, Ruth's memory was sharp. There wasn't any point in lying to her.

I shook my head. "He's no friend of mine."

"Seeing him breaks your parole."

"I know, I know." Tell me something I didn't know. This wasn't fair. I hadn't wanted to see Gus.

Ruth waved at me to come over to the bed. I slunk over, feeling way shorter than six one and like I was ten years old again.

Ruth reached and had clasped my hand. "You only get one chance."

I nodded.

"You can't give up, Mat."

"I'm not."

Ruth let go of my hand, lifted her chin. "It looks to me like you are giving up."

"I'm trying, Ruth, I'm trying!" The potpourri scent in her room suddenly made me sick.

Ruth uncrossed her arms. "You left your phone at home. Again."

"Sorry, I forgot." I hated carrying that thing. "My parole officer called?" Winterfield always ruined my day. He was one hundred percent pure hard-ass and he rode me nonstop about getting a job.

Ruth frowned. "Three times. You need to be reachable, Mathilda."

"I know, I know." I spent five years in Special Corrections always being reachable. Once in awhile, I wanted to be unreachable.

I knew what she was going to say next. Going to go over the whole "don't see any criminals" thing anymore. I tried to relax, slow my breathing. Tried not to get angry.

"Meeting with Empowered criminals is especially dangerous."

Yep. Here we go. "Does it matter?" I retorted. "If I see _any_ criminal, I go back to Special Corrections."

Ruth shook her head at me, frowning. "Mat, you know there's a difference. Seeing a normal criminal is a violation, but meeting with an Empowered criminal is a one-way ticket to Special Corrections without appeal."

Okay, okay, she had a point, but I was trying to stay away from ALL criminals, not just Empowered ones.

"What did he want?" Ruth asked.

"To apologize. Like it mattered." I couldn't keep the disgust out of my voice.

"That couldn't have been all he wanted to say."

I shrugged. "I wasn't going to listen to anything else."

She squeezed my hand. "If your PO finds out, you'll be in trouble."

My face flushed with anger. "I told the creep to leave me alone!" I got up. "Where are Ava and Ella?"

Ruth sighed, suddenly looking not just old but ancient. "Change the subject, why don't you?" she said in a low voice. She sighed. "Out, just like you were."

"But you don't know where they went?"

She shook her head, laughed sadly. "That used to be you," she said.

"It did. That's why I worry."

The deep rumble of an eight-cylinder engine came from the parking lot, interrupting what Ruth was going to say next. I went to the window, and peered outside.

A newer model gold Lincoln Overlord pulled up below our apartment, whitewall tires and silver spoked-rims screaming ganger-mobile. A rear door opened and my younger sister Ella got out, followed a moment later by her twin, Ava. Ava's raven black hair was nearly as long as mine used to be. It swung around her face like a curtain, while Ella wore hers in a short, curly perm.

Cute chicks. Way too cute. That was the problem.

A muscled arm reached out of the car, pulled Ava back in, and I caught the hard profile of a tattooed man. They kissed, and my stomach roiled. Ganger crooks made me sick.

"You didn't say the girls hung with gangers!" I spat out the words. "You lecture me about Gus, and here they are hanging with gangers." My skin was hot.

"I've told them not to." Her eyes went hard. "I've got to pick my battles."

"They aren't listening," I retorted.

Another racking cough. "No more than you did," Ruth said when she could speak again.

"I'm trying now." I turned back to the window.

The girls stood by the stairwell, watching the car drive off. Then they headed up the stairs, Ava in the lead as always, Ella following.

I met them at the door. "Where have you been?" Stupid kids, hanging with gangers. What were they thinking?

Ava tried pushing past me, but I braced an arm against the door frame. The twins were five feet eleven, but I was taller at six one, so Ava had to look up to meet my gaze.

"Out with friends," Ava said when she couldn't push past me. "That good enough for you, _sis_?" This last came out as a hiss.

I leaned forward, looking down at her. "Don't be a fool like I was."

"Yeah, you were a fool, all right. We all remember."

The twins had been twelve when I was convicted.

"Good," I said, blocking the doorway with my arm. "Those creeps down there won't do you any good. How long have you been seeing them?"

Ella spoke up, fast, trying to please me. "Just for a couple of weeks."

I clenched my hand. How the hell had I missed that? Because I'd been out pounding the pavement looking for work and getting leered at by creeps in interviews for dead-end jobs.

Ava gave me a defiant smile. "You're just jealous."

I laughed. That was too funny for words. I ignored Ava and kept looking at Ella. "How about you, Ella? Why are you hanging with gangers?"

Ella looked away. "They're fun," she mumbled.

"You going to let us in?" Ava crossed her arms. "I have to pee."

"I just want you both to understand something first."

Ella raised her head and looked at me, expectantly. She was the good one, always willing to listen.

Ava brushed her hair back. "What's that, _sis_?" Ava, on the other hand, was a stone-cold bitch in training. Ruth said we were alike—we were nothing alike.

"Those creeps are hanging with you for only two reasons." I tried to look less angry. "One, they want sex."

Ava's eyes flashed. "So what if they do? You weren't a virgin back in the Renegades, were you?"

I hadn't been, but that didn't matter here. "Two, they are just using you to get to me." Checking things out, taking their time. I'd have to figure out a way to end this thing the twins had with them.

Ava gave a loud, sarcastic laugh, and even Ella looked angry.

"It's not all about you," Ava said. Ella nodded sharply in agreement. She was the follower when it came to Ava.

Ava shoved my arm out of the way and they marched past me. "Stay out of our lives," Ava shot back at me over her shoulder.

I stomped outside and slammed the door behind me.

The Lincoln Overlord pulled out onto Powell. The car's engine revved, and it sped away, out of sight beyond the line of firs. Gangers off to have fun elsewhere. Scum.

The hum of the trees in my mind tugged at me as I gripped the handrail. My power couldn't help me. The trees certainly couldn't. I had to deal with this just like any normal would. I couldn't go to the police. I needed to get out and find a job that would get us out of this dump. And away from those gangers.

# Chapter 2

The next morning I had to meet with Winterfield, my parole officer, at that greasy spoon by the Interstate we always met at. The day was cloudy with likely rain, according to the radio. Great, that meant I had to deal again with all the plants shouting happiness in my head.

I drove Ruth's old Buick, because she insisted, even though it ate through gas money. Two bus transfers would have made me leave way early anyhow.

I wore my "meeting with the PO" uniform of white blouse, sweater, slacks, and the only sensible shoes I owned, a pair of beige low-heels. I hated the low-heels, but needed to look the part when meeting with my tight-assed PO. I'd kill to be wearing jeans and work boots, but nothing doing.

The radio was tuned to a news station, all Ruth listened to when she was in the car. I was about to change it when the talking heads started discussing a Hero Council operation in Seattle, some sort of sweep against "rampant criminality and rogue Empowered." I turned up the volume, heart pounding, flashing on the Hero Council coming after the Renegades five years ago.

The radio said the Hero Council of North America's _First Team_ had led a joint FBI, UN, and Support task force against unspecified "rogue elements." It sounded like a huge deal. The radio announcers sounded awestruck, like normals always seemed to whenever they mentioned the Hero Council. Made me sick.

Was it the Scourge? Had Gus been telling the truth? But the newscasters didn't give any more details. Instead, they started talking about the latest building projects in the greater New York City area, Long Island this time, another Galestorm Memorial Center. The Three Days War and the irradiating of NYC had happened a half century ago, but the Big Apple still wasn't so big these days. Even though the City had been rebuilt by the end of the 1980s, people kept tinkering with it, trying to make it the New York of old again.

I changed the channel to a rock station. I was not looking forward to this meeting.

Being interrogated by my PO was right up there with getting my teeth cleaned, but it was necessary.

Winterfield always made me wary. He had the no-nonsense look of a cop, or a corrections officer. He must have been in the military, but I wasn't about to ask. I knew better. There was no chance of getting an answer. I figured he'd just tell me to focus on me and getting a job instead of asking questions about things that didn't matter.

I just hoped to God Winterfield never found out about Gus attempting to "recruit" me for the Scourge.

It wouldn't matter that Gus's story about the Scourge being back from the dead was completely nutso. Gus was a rogue Empowered, the last living member of the Renegades except for me. I was through with living the criminal life, but Gus sure wasn't. He must have spent the last five years skulking around the Northwest, living in abandoned houses and stealing what he needed. As long as it was something he could carry, it would blend in with him.

I still couldn't figure out how Gus had remained free for so long, even with his power. Maybe the Hero Council and their lackey Support thought he was dead. Maybe he didn't matter to them. That seemed damned unlikely. He'd be the first rogue Empowered they let go. The sanctioned Empowered of the Hero Council never let us rogues go. They hunted us down.

I parked the Buick next to a dogwood tree that was bursting with anticipation of budding. Feeling its pleasure was like drinking fortified wine; it made me dizzy. I had to stop in the entryway and take a few slow breaths. Clear my head. Didn't want to set off those spook specs of Winterfield's. Maybe I'd get lucky and he wouldn't have them on today.

Winterfield waited for me in a booth by the restrooms. His back was against the wall, like always.

I don't know about other parole officers, but Winterfield was no fun at all.

He wore that navy blue windbreaker he always wore and a knitted polo shirt. His shaved head glinted in the weak yellow lighting. Maybe he waxed it.

My stomach did a somersault when I spotted the mirrored sunglasses on the table in front of him. Damn it. Winterfield _had_ brought his spook specs.

He nodded at me as the waitress left me at the booth. I slid in across from him. It was a big booth, but with Winterfield there, I felt like I was trapped in a tiny closet. I couldn't take my eyes off the spook specs.

He tapped his windbreaker. "You are carrying your phone today, aren't you, Brandt?"

I ripped my gaze from the folded spook specs. Damn those things.

"Yeah." I pulled my phone out of my purse and laid it on the table.

Winterfield gave me his no bullshit look. "It isn't just me you need to stay in touch with, Brandt, remember. What if your grandmother needs to reach you?"

My breath froze. "She knows where I'm at."

Winterfield raised an eyebrow. "Really, Brandt? You should know by now you can't fool me. Why don't you try not fooling yourself?"

"Okay," I mumbled and glanced at my hands. Looking at Winterfield was like staring at a brick wall. I had no idea what lay under that hard surface. Probably something colder and harder than steel.

I didn't want to find out.

Ivy hung in a planter from the ceiling, leaves curled. It needed water. If I strained, I could pull water from the air, push the plant to grow, unspool it like a living thread, until vines looped and tightened around Winterfield's muscled neck and choked off his breath. The leaves stirred and I looked back at my hands, fast.

Winterfield had followed my gaze to the ivy. "You're still Vine, Brandt."

I shook my head. "I'm just Mat now." I was sweating. Winterfield always made me sweat.

His smile was thin, with sharp edges. "The world won't think so."

"I'm not anybody special." The lie felt good. I just wanted to take care of Ruth and the twins, even if the girls were ungrateful brats. Was it really a lie if I _wanted_ it to be true?

"You may be nobody, Brandt, but you are an Empowered nobody. Society is not going to forget that."

Yeah, I was no Galestorm, or Titan for that matter, anyone else on the Hero Council. My power was no big deal. I couldn't fly. I wasn't a super genius. I couldn't throw a bus. I sure as hell couldn't stop a nuke like Galestorm did. Growing plants, no matter how fast, isn't going to impress people wowed by real superpowers.

And I wasn't a sanctioned Empowered. I'd been a rogue, the kind of Empowered that scared normals shitless, because the Hero Council didn't want someone with a lame power like mine. So, I only got one option, sign on the dotted line and give up using my power forever. I was fifteen, and pissed that the world thought my wonderful power was nothing. So I ran away to join the Renegades.

The waitress returned, took our orders, left. If she knew what I was, what I'd been, she'd be frightened and angry I was there. But she had no clue. I stared at the tabletop, traced a pattern in the fake walnut. "Ignorance is bliss," I whispered.

"Only if you want to have no control over what happens to you." Winterfield tapped the tabletop. "The problem is that you know things ordinary people don't."

"I just want to be as ignorant as everyone else. I don't want to know what I once knew." I'd give anything to forget, to start over.

"What you still know," Winterfield insisted.

He was wrong but so sure he was right.

The waitress brought our breakfasts. Winterfield asked me about my job hunt while we ate. I gave him a no-frills account, and he listened, not asking any questions.

I finished, took a gulp of coffee.

"You're going to end up back in Special Corrections if you fail to find and hold down a job." He didn't have to take it further. We'd had this conversation before. If I couldn't hold down a job, I had no money, and would just be a burden on my family. Winterfield assumed I'd turn to crime to get the money rather than put the family deeper in the hole for feeding me.

Wasn't going to happen.

Period.

"I'll find work."

The waitress cleared our plates, refilled our coffee cups.

Winterfield waited until she was gone before saying anything else. He ran a finger along the bridge of the folded spook specs.

I suppressed a shiver.

"Not the way you are going." He snapped his fingers and I practically jumped out of my seat.

"I'm not Vine anymore."

He gave me the sharp smile again, laid a finger on the spook specs.

"Time to be checked out," he said.

Easy for him to say. "I feel fine today," I said. "No need for the exam."

His smile vanished. "Funny, Brandt. Very funny."

Yeah, I could see he was laughing inside.

He picked up the spook specs, opened the glasses with a snap and put them on.

Pinpoint red lights flicked on above the bridge, like demon's eyes. The mirrored shades hid Winterfield's ice blue eyes, so I kept looking at the demon's eyes, and blinking from the bright lights.

Winterfield started "the exam" with the same question he always asked.

"Why did you became a criminal?"

I gave him the same answer I always did.

"Because I was young and stupid, dumb enough to think it sounded like fun." That was my story and I was sticking to it. Always.

I looked up at the ivy. It knew nothing of the larger world beyond this diner. I thought again about the ivy stretching down, looping around Winterfield's neck and strangling him. I pushed the thought away. What if the spook specs could read my thoughts?

"Please look at me," Winterfield said.

I ground my teeth. Looked at him.

"Have you used your power since our last meeting?" he asked "As per the terms of your parole, you must not use your power, specified as a botanical catalyst."

Botanical catalyst was a fancy way of saying I could control plants. Big deal.

My skin itched. It felt like tiny pinpricks all along my face, neck, arms, chest. A dull headache settled in around my temples.

"Just a moment more, Brandt." Easy for him to say. His voice was matter-of-fact, all business. The headache dug harder into my temples.

I closed my eyes, frowning. "I haven't used my power, Winterfield." Why couldn't he just believe me for once?

The pinpricks stopped, and the headache faded. I opened my eyes. Winterfield had removed the spook specs.

"I am pleased to verify that you haven't," he said.

"You could have just taken my word for it." He wasn't going to tell me what he saw, except that somehow the spook specs showed I hadn't used my power, and that I wasn't lying.

He snorted, paid our check, and we headed outside together.

Winterfield followed me to the Buick. We were both over six feet tall, so he looked me in the eye. "Think about the choices you make," he said. "They have consequences." He shook his head. "And ditch the whole "ignorance is bliss" attitude. You'll just wind up being someone else's patsy."

Great, first the spook specs, now a nugget of wisdom from the PO. I shoved the anger down. "I will." What else did he expect me to say? _No?_ And the bastard wouldn't even let me try to forget who I was. Like I could.

He got in his black Ford Republic sedan and drove off.

I knew full well choices have consequences. I was living proof.

I drove back home after another thanks but no thanks interview at a restaurant for a waitress job. I would have stunk as a waitress anyway.

The gold Lincoln Overlord with the whitewall tires and silver-spoke rims idled in front of our apartment building, doors open, gangers waiting outside.

Old habits made me do an inventory. Four crooks, all dressed in tailored suits, which seemed to be all the rage with the shady set these days. Three of the gangers had shaved heads, one was Asian, another black, the third shaved head belonged to a white guy. The second white guy in the group had long blond hair in a ponytail, and wore a cream colored suit. He leaned against the Lincoln's trunk.

My muscles tensed as I took this all in. I jumped out of the car, went up to the Lincoln.

"Hey," the blond said. Jeweled rings winked on his fingers. He smiled with bright white, even teeth. That was some expensive dentistry in his mouth.

Our door opened and Ava and Ella came out, smiling, until they saw me. Ava said something to Ella, and they both marched down the stairs, Ava in the lead.

"The girls are staying here," I told the blond.

He nodded at the other three goons. They got into the Lincoln, the Asian behind the wheel.

"It's up to the ladies," he said.

Ava marched up to me. "We're going with them."

She started to push past me and I grabbed her arm.

The blond ganger grinned, buffed his fingernails on his suit. "I hate it when sisters fight."

Ava twisted in my grip.

Our apartment door opened and Ruth appeared.

She waved at me. "Mat! No fighting!" She coughed and doubled over. Damn it. She shouldn't have to deal with this crap.

I let go of Ava. She flounced over to the Lincoln, slipped inside the back. Ella avoided my glare and joined her.

The blond ganger shrugged. "Sorry, babe, looks like the ladies have spoken. You know, you could join us."

"Fat chance."

He shrugged a second time. "Your loss. Too bad." He acted like he knew something I didn't. I wanted to punch the smugness off his face.

He got into the ganger mobile and sat between the twins. The car roared to life. The blond threw his arms around the girls and grinned back at me. Cocky jerk.

The Lincoln drove off.

Damn it! I couldn't let the twins go off with these creeps.

"Mat, don't go after them," Ruth called from the top of the stairs. "I don't want you back in prison!" There was sudden steel in her voice.

I ignored her, jumped in the Buick, and followed the Lincoln.

The gangers drove to the north side of Portland, to a tree-lined street, and stopped in front of an old three-story house. I had kept my distance as I trailed them across town, but they must have known I was following them.

I parked behind the Lincoln, got out, and took a deep breath.

My sisters were idiots.

The day was warm for late February; there was a hint of spring in the air with the smell of flowers about to blossom, and budding leaves. The walnut trees lining the street seemed to shiver, and I felt myself reaching out to them with my power.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to stop.

The left rear door of the Lincoln opened. Ava scrambled out, face twisted in rage. "Leave us the fuck alone, Mathilda."

Ella appeared behind her, followed by Cocky Jerk.

I pointed at the house. I could see where this was going. A 'party' for these gangers, featuring my sisters. "You aren't going inside that house, or anywhere else with these men." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Ruth's Buick. "Get inside."

The rest of the gangers got out of the Overlord and stood watching the show.

Ava stomped her foot. "No!"

Anger rose inside me. I pushed it back down.

"I'll talk with these men then, and you drive yourselves home in the Buick." I shoved Ruth's car keys at the twins. "You both have your licenses. Go home."

Ava crossed her arms. "Hell, no."

Ella, ever the follower, did likewise, but she wouldn't meet my gaze.

Cocky Jerk spread his arms wide, and smiled brightly. "Ladies, ladies," he said to the twins. "Do as your sister asks and head home. Maybe we'll hook up later."

"What?" Ava shouted. "But we were going to party with you!"

He shrugged. "We were, but I've wanted to talk with your sister, and now is the perfect time." Just like I had told the twins. The gangers wanted to get to me, the rogue Empowered. No doubt some stupid scheme to make a pile of cash.

"Talk?" Ava was stunned. "Talk about what? I thought you wanted to hang with us?"

"Sure, babe, we like some fun, but this is business."

Tears streaked Ava's face, her mouth moved, but nothing came out. They had totally played my sisters.

A single tear ran down Ella's face. My face hardened. Damn these men.

"Go," I told Ella. "Take Ava." I handed Ella the car keys and stepped out of the way. My shoe brushed against moss lining the curb, and a jolt of energy ran up my leg. The moss started to spread beneath my heel, whispering wetly in my brain. No. NO. I forced it to stop. I couldn't break my parole. Yeah, I was meeting with criminals, but this would be over quickly. Then it was back to the straight and narrow.

Ella tugged at Ava's elbow. "Come on, Ava." She pulled Ava past me to the Buick while the gangers watched, grinning. Ella pushed Ava inside, looked at me.

"Come home with us. Please."

"I need to talk with them." I was ending this. Now.

"Don't. Come home."

"I have to."

She squeezed away tears and started up the car. I watched them drive off.

They were safe for now. I needed to make them safe forever.

I turned to the leader. He was grinning at me like he'd just won a lottery.

"I'm glad we agree we need to talk." He grew serious. "My name is Raphe Hatcher, and my associates..."

"I don't need to know their names." I cut him off. I didn't want to know anything about them. I could lie more convincingly to Winterfield that way.

Hatcher shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I put my hands on my hips. "Okay, what's this about?"

"Let's discuss this inside." He jerked his head toward the house, a three-story wreck with a moss-covered gabled roof and a tall turret with a long curtained window that stared at me like a lidded eye, blood-red velvet drapes closed.

I held up a hand. "We're not having a conversation in there."

Hatcher looked at me in mock sadness. "There's no reason for mistrust." What a load of bullshit. The guy just wouldn't stop.

I shook my head. "We aren't going to be talking long enough to worry about trusting each other."

"Don't be so sure about that," Hatcher said. "But we aren't having this conversation in the street." He jerked his head at the house. "Inside," he ordered. He had a point. I didn't want anyone seeing me with the gangers.

I had a stupid idea. The backyard behind the Victorian was fenced. A huge bank of blackberry bushes grew up over the wooden fence, but there was a gate beside the house. Never let yourself be cornered. But these guys were just two-bit crooks. I'd dealt with other rogue Empowered, before, especially inside Special Corrections.

I pointed at the gate. "Let's talk in the backyard."

"Sure, works for us," Hatcher said. He motioned for me to walk ahead.

I waved them forward. "I'll follow you."

Hatcher shook his head, looking sad. "You got to trust us."

I raised an eyebrow. Was this idiot serious?

He shook his head, chuckling, and headed toward the back.

Ivy climbed up the side of the house. The grass beneath our feet was scraggly crabgrass that grew up from the moss-covered earth. Both pulsed with thirst for more rain.

The wooden gate creaked as the lead ganger opened it and we filed into the backyard. The scent of wet earth mingled with moss, shrubs, and blackberry vines. They were dormant but moist with winter's touch still on their leaves. The air was thick, pregnant with life's potential waiting to burst forth into spring. I swayed.

A firm, strong hand on my elbow steadied me.

"Hey, girl, you all right?" Hatcher actually looked concerned.

Funny. If this wasn't so deadly serious I'd be doubled over laughing.

I pulled my arm from Hatcher's grasp. "I'm fine, thanks."

The gate closed with a bang.

My heart pounded harder. My mouth was suddenly bone-dry. I took a deep breath. Never let them see fear. Ever.

Hulking blackberry thickets surrounded the yard on three sides. The rusting ruin of an overturned wheelbarrow was just visible inside the thicket near me. Ivy covered the house's backside. I'd have to catalyze the ivy to make it strong enough to support my weight.

Hatcher gestured at the yard. "We have some privacy here, Mathilda. I can call you Mathilda, right? Or would you prefer Mat?"

His smile was suddenly all teeth, making him look like a shark. His three pals grinned in similar shark-like fashion. What did the twins see in these goons? Teenaged hormones running amok made Ava and Ella imagine a humanity that wasn't there.

Behind me, on the house, the ivy called, urging me to put my strength into it, to grow it, so that it could give me a path to escape.

I ignored it. That was my fear talking, not the ivy.

Far above us a sonic boom split the sky. All five of us glanced up, and for a fraction of a second I saw a blue and white winged needle hurling westward, toward the Pacific Ocean at impossible speeds. It must be Pan American's Trans-Pacific scramjet, boosting toward Tokyo.

I wished I were flying away on the scramjet, free of all this.

If I weren't here, maybe these creeps wouldn't be preying on my sisters, but I was here, so they preyed on my family. Running away wouldn't help now.

"Let's talk," Hatcher said.

I shifted my stance, arms loose at my sides. "That's why I came. You are going to leave my sisters alone. Starting now."

Hatcher's brow furrowed. "Just like that?"

Two of his lackeys chuckled. The other pulled on a pair of brass knuckles and flexed his arms.

Damn it. I forced myself to breath slowly.

"Just like that," I said. "Everyone walks away with skin intact. Sound good?"

All four laughed, Hatcher so hard that he closed his eyes for a moment and waved a hand at me to wait.

He stopped laughing. "Here's what's going to happen, Mat. You are going to use your power to help us grow certain rare and very valuable botanicals that have a very strong market demand. It happens to be an illegal market, but we never let that stop us, and you shouldn't either."

He snapped his fingers. "You do that, and we'll leave your sisters alone. Your precious grandmother, too."

I scowled.

Hatcher nodded. "Yeah, we know about her. She's got Thalik's disease. No cure, terminal, right?"

I ground my teeth. How did this asshole know so much about Ruth? Did my idiot sisters blab all this?

He went on. "We know all about your family and your past. Why do you think we invested so much time in your sisters?" He winked at me. "Didn't hurt that they were fun little girls, but this is really business."

I unclenched my hands. "Shut up. I mean it."

"Go ahead and make all the faces you want. But you are going to do what we want. That might even include giving us a taste of you, too, if you want your sisters kept out of it." He shrugged. "Of course, this can be profitable and pleasurable for you, too."

Living under the thumb of Hatcher and his gangers? Fat chance.

"No way."

Hatcher sighed. "I was afraid that we might have to take this further." He glanced at the ganger with the brass knuckles. "Not her face. It's not as fun if her face is messed up.

My jaw tightened. To hell with consequences, to hell with parole, and to hell with Winterfield. I was ending this now and forever, for the twins and for Ruth.

Mister Brass Knuckles ambled toward me, past the tangled mountain of blackberry vines, a lazy grin on his face, swinging his arms slowly, like he was warming up for batting practice.

I reached with my power, into the vines, tasting their bitter tang. _Wake_ , I urged the vines. I extended my connection into the roots, pulling nutrients up and into the vines, pulling water into the roots, pulling carbon dioxide from the air, bringing the vines to life. The blackberry thicket moaned and I shuddered. That felt so good after so many years not being able to use my power.

I commanded the nearest vine, bristling with inch-long thorns, to stretch out and loop around Brass Knuckle's calf.

"Ow!" The ganger instinctively grabbed the vine, yelped again as the thorns tore his flesh. I urged the vine to coil tighter, slicing through fabric and flesh. The man fell, screaming.

Hatcher's eyes widened. "Shit!" He grabbed at the inside of his suit jacket and his two other minions did likewise.

Guns. They were going for their guns.

My muscles screamed as I gestured wildly, pushing my vital energy into the blackberry thicket. The thicket rose up, like a giant spider made of thorny vines and I sent it rampaging forward.

The old wheelbarrow toppled with a thud inside the writhing mass. One of the gangers turned, gun drawn, and yelled as the thicket engulfed him. His yells turned to screams.

"Stop it, now." Hatcher pointed a Colt automatic pistol at me.

The two other gangers backed away from the thicket, waving pistols at the vines reaching for him.

I jumped to my right and twisted my arms in an arching motion. Hatcher's Colt boomed in my ear and a bullet slammed into my side. I hit the ground, breath whooshing from me.

The thicket twined around Hatcher and his goons. He brought his arms up, while the others tried to run, fell and were overrun by razor-sharp thorns. Blood turned the thorns scarlet.

Everything started to dim. I tried to stand, tried to push healing energy to the wound, but the world tilted. I fell back to the ground. Was this it?

I was suddenly thirsty. Hatcher was screaming now.

Die you bastard, I managed to think through a thickening haze.

I wasn't going to make it. Empowered healed faster than normals. But my body's accelerated healing wouldn't be nearly fast enough, especially not with all the vitality I'd poured into the blackberry thickets.

But these bastard criminals wouldn't either, and at least Ava and Ella, and Ruth, too, would be free of these assholes.

I lay down. The screaming was getting weaker. I closed my eyes, imagining the thorns sawing through flesh and bone.

Darkness fell on me like a mountain.

# Chapter 3

There was nothing. Then there was this irritating beeping. _Beep...beep...beeep_. The beeping seemed to go on forever. I couldn't move. If this was hell, it was damned annoying.

I thought I heard a voice, but I couldn't make it what it was saying. _Blah, blah, blah blah blah_ , the voice said. Great, that told me loads.

Memories swirled through my awareness like lost friends.

That asshole who wouldn't stop looking at my chest during that interview for the warehouse job. The job I held for like a week.

Ruth, giving me a weak hug when I walked through the door for the first time after Special Corrections. Tears kept blinding me.

Ava and Ella listening to doom rock in their room at full volume, and only turning it down a decibel when I rapped on the door.

Winterfield, sitting in that booth with his back to the wall, watching me with those ice blue eyes of his. Judging me, always judging me, and I could never measure up.

Special Corrections, waiting for me to return. The force shield distorted the world outside, like heat off asphalt in summer. Not being able to see beyond the walls of the force shield, forever.

_Beep. Beep. Beeep._

Nothing.

My nose itched. There was something jammed in it, in both nostrils, that made breathing feel funny. My side hurt like hell. I think I still heard that damn beeping, but the pain had my full attention. To top it off, my mouth was dry as the desert.

I coughed, a dry cough that made my throat hurt and sent pain stabbing me in my left side.

"Ah, you awaken. Good." The voice was female, with a high and mighty sounding accent. British? I only knew Brits from television, but she sounded like one. Fingers traced my aching left side, where a bullet slammed into me who knew how long ago.

"Why am I alive?" I croaked out the words.

"You weren't meant to die then," I thought I heard the voice say.

I struggled to open my eyes, but they felt like they weighed a thousand tons and wouldn't budge. I winced. The pain was like a vice squeezing me.

I heard a soft hiss. Sweet warmth spread out from my side, banishing the pain.

"Please rest." Definitely an English accent.

"Who are you?" I asked.

There was no answer. I slipped back into nothingness.

When I awoke the second time, the world was silent.

I took a slow, deep breath. My nostrils were clear, and my side no longer ached.

I opened my eyes. Blinked.

I was in what looked like a hospital room. I lay in a hospital-style bed.

I sat up and the lights brightened.

A plastic pitcher and glass sat on a side table beside me. I hoped there was water in the jug. I was so thirsty I could drink a river.

There was water in it. I poured a glass, and drank it down. I poured another glass and sipped the water this time. It was the most wonderful thing I'd ever tasted in my entire life.

I should have died in that backyard. The last time I used my power was five years ago. When I was captured. In Special Corrections we Empowered prisoners wore null cuffs which blocked our power. I could sense plants but not affect them.

When they released me I was ordered not to use my power, so I didn't, even as it ate at me, even as it built inside me.

Then I had used it in one massive, desperate rush of energy.

All of it.

So that my body couldn't heal itself.

I wiped my mouth and looked around.

A rack of medical diagnostic equipment stood against one wall, powered off. Ruth had been hooked up to stuff like that at the hospital, after I was released from Special Corrections. How long ago—two months? Seemed like forever.

There were no windows. The door was steel. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This looked like a prison hospital room. Was I back in Special Corrections? But there were no gold null cuffs on my wrists.

I pulled back the covers. I wore a hospital gown. Someone had taken care of me. That voice, the British accent, whoever it was, someone had looked after me.

A white jumpsuit hung on a rack in the opposite corner from the medical equipment. Underwear and bra in my size, socks and sneakers, were on a plastic footstool below the rack. Just waiting for me to put them on. Well, I did feel half naked in the hospital gown, especially with my ass exposed in the back.

So, I got dressed. The jumpsuit was way more form-fitting than an inmate's coveralls. Maybe this was the next thing in prison wear.

Prison. I didn't want to believe it.

I went to the door, turned the handle. Locked. The sinking feeling returned and I sat down on the bed, hard, and buried my head in my hands.

Prison. The word settled into the hollow of my chest.

Prison. I wouldn't be able to help Ruth or the twins. Ruth would get sicker and sicker, and the twins would fall in with another bad crowd. I'd be locked away forever in Special Corrections because I violated my parole. Back in the hole with other hard cases, never to see the world again except through a force shield.

The door clicked, and the handle moved. I scrambled to my feet. Corrections officers come to pay me a visit?

The door opened and two men walked in. They wore black suits with white dress shirts and black ties.

I blinked, not believing my eyes.

The first man was Winterfield. A gold Support pin gleamed on his suit lapel. Winterfield? What the hell was he doing here?

Winterfield shook his head. "I told you to think about the choices you make, didn't I?"

Bastard picked up right where we'd left off, in the parking lot outside that greasy spoon. "Yeah, you did."

His ice blue eyes looked me over and he shook his head again. "Well, here we are, living with the consequences of your bad choices."

Still a hard-ass. "I couldn't let those gangers threaten my family." What the hell had he expected me to do? "The police weren't going to help me."

"You still broke your parole." Winterfield's eyes narrowed. "You screwed up."

"What was I was supposed to do?" My voice rose.

Winterfield gave me a hard stare. I stared back.

"How did you even know what happened?"

He shook his head. "Really, Brandt? Did you really think you'd be paroled without surveillance? Or that your PO would just be a PO? You are an Empowered, Brandt. People like you don't just get to wander around loose."

"I was being watched the whole time?"

"Yes."

I'd been an idiot. That meant they must have seen me with Gus. Or did Winterfield just mean that last day? I wasn't going to ask. I was in enough shit as it was.

"If I was being watched when I went after Hatcher's gang, why didn't you step in?"

"We needed to see how you would act."

Pricks. Still, I'd made the decision to confront Hatcher and his gangers. Me. I owned it. "So, now you know."

"There's the understatement of the century."

"Are they dead?" I had never killed anyone before.

Winterfield shook his head. "Severely injured, but alive. They are in the custody of Support and will face a UN tribunal for crimes involving the Empowered."

"Am I going back to Special Corrections?" Amazingly, the words came out almost calmly. The other man stepped forward. He was a young, handsome, twenty-something man with dark, styled hair, and fine features. He also wore the gold Support pin on his suit lapel.

"I'm Agent Alexandre Sanchez, Ms. Brandt. As it happens, you have another option."

"I do?" The room started to spin, and I sat down on the bed. Saying this was too weird didn't begin to cover it.

He smiled, dimpling his cheeks, which made him look even more handsome. "You can help us out."

"Help you out? How?" My heart pounded faster.

Winterfield jabbed a finger at me. "As Agent Sanchez said, Brandt, you have one chance to avoid being returned to Special Corrections, this time for life." He looked supremely disgusted. "And even if you accept this assignment, failure means returning to Special Corrections for life. Personally, I think you are headed back to prison, but prove me wrong."

I realized I'd been holding my breath, and let it out. "What assignment?"

"Become an infiltrator for us," Sanchez said.

"A squealer?"

Sanchez shook his head. "No, an infiltrator, Ms. Brandt. There's a crucial difference—you'll be an operative for Support, assigned to infiltrate a dangerous criminal organization."

"So, I'd have to become a criminal again." My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. "Everyone would think I'm a criminal." Ruth would think I'd gone bad again.

Sanchez nodded. "I'm afraid so. It is absolutely necessary for that to appear to be the case."

Winterfield gave me a hard look. "If you really want to help your family, this is your one chance. Help us and we'll use our influence to swing resources to help your grandmother with her illness. There are experimental treatments being developed for Thalik's that could arrest the disease."

"You mean, like a cure?"

"Possibly. Or at least stop its progression." He pursed his lips. "But such treatments are extremely expensive."

A cure for Thalik's; it was too much to hope for.

Winterfield tossed out more bait. "We'll also get your sisters into an excellent private school and ensure they have guidance. Young women are very vulnerable, Brandt, as you know."

Bastard.

"But only if you complete this assignment." His gaze bored into me. "That means, finish it successfully. We'll be back after lunch to hear your answer."

He raised his arm and murmured into his sleeve. He must have a hidden communicator there. More spook stuff, like his specs. I still couldn't believe Winterfield was in Support. Support! The men and women in black who assisted sanctioned Empowered in keeping the world safe from rogues like me. So sue me for being sarcastic and cynical. Somehow, Winterfield was easier to take when he was just my hard-assed PO.

The door buzzed and swung open.

Winterfield looked back at me from the door. "Think hard about this one chance, Brandt." He left. No shit. I'd be thinking about nothing else

Sanchez lingered for a second.

He smiled sympathetically. "We really do want to help you, Mat, but you will have to help us, too. I hope you see that." He walked out, and the door locked behind him with a loud click.

I paced the room. Winterfield and Sanchez had me cornered. What the hell else could I do? Go back to Special Corrections for life? Put on the white jumpsuit and be shackled with null cuffs? Never see Ruth or the twins again? Say goodbye to freedom forever?

But to become a criminal again? That's what they were asking me to do.

Becoming a criminal had wrecked my life. I squeezed my eyes shut. No crying. Never cry. But I couldn't stop thinking about my best friend, Tanya. She died because we were criminals. I couldn't think about her now. Even five years later, it was too painful to remember. The way she died. Why she died.

I don't know how long I paced, thinking. The door buzzed and I stopped, turned.

A red-headed woman dressed in that stupid Support outfit of black suit, white shirt and tie, and gold Support lapel pin entered, pushing a cart with a covered lunch tray.

"Please sit on the bed," she said, sounding like she was Queen of Everything. My stomach rumbled. She could act like she was in charge if she brought food.

She left the cart by the foot of the bed and exited. The door locked with that damn click.

Lunch was a Waldorf salad, one of my favorites, with a sprig of parsley off to one side. Was that just luck, or did they know?

I couldn't stop thinking about the "offer."

Ruth had raised me and the twins after our parents died in that car crash in the Rocky Mountains. She was there for us when we were sick, or needed help with schoolwork. She'd had an army pension and some insurance benefits from our parents, so she could stay home for us. She put her life aside to care for us. The money ran out after I went to prison, and she got sicker and sicker with Thalik's disease. Now she and the girls lived on her tiny pension and social security benefits, which weren't enough to cover whatever pricey, experimental treatment might be available to help her.

Winterfield dangled a way out of poverty and illness. Maybe even a cure for Ruth.

I had to do this for her and the twins. Didn't matter that Ava and Ella were ungrateful jerks. They were still my sisters.

And Ruth had never stopped loving me.

I ate my lunch without tasting it, finished, drank more water, and stretched out on the bed.

Ruth would think I was a criminal again. So would Ava and Ella, but it was the image of Ruth, looking sadly at me, disappointed in me, that cut me open. My intention to prove to her that I'd changed had kept me going the five years I'd been in Special Corrections.

I got up and began pacing again. Winterfield and Sanchez had me over a barrel, and they knew it. Damn it. I tried so damn hard to walk the straight and narrow and look where it got me.

I plucked the parsley sprig off my lunch tray and twirled it in my fingers, feeling the stalk against my skin as I pushed a little of my vitality into it. The sprig grew until it was a foot long, giant's parsley, like something from God's garden.

My power would be at Support's beck and call, and also at the disposal of whatever criminal organization Winterfield and my new secret masters wanted me to infiltrate.

I had been played like a fool. Would I be an even bigger one if I accepted this devil's bargain?

I ground my teeth. I wanted to kill something.

The parsley turned brown in my grasp and crumbled into powder. I shook my hand and the powder scattered over the floor.

Winterfield and Sanchez finally returned. I was staring at the ceiling, lost in more tangled thoughts.

"What have you decided?" Sanchez asked me.

Decided, the word sounded so mild. Prison for life, or becoming a criminal again in the eyes of everyone outside of this room.

I sat up and swung my legs over the bedside. "I accept," I said to Sanchez, ignoring Winterfield.

"So recorded," I heard Winterfield say. "Parolee has given verbal assent." He was speaking into his sleeve. Creepy as all hell. He glanced at me, lowered his arm. "Good. Maybe you have some brains after all."

Sanchez smiled. "I'm glad you decided to help us, Mat."

"Okay, Brandt, time to make this official," Winterfield said.

He swiped a flat pad mounted to the wall beside the door with his wrist. I glimpsed a black, metallic band, half hidden by his shirt sleeve. A buzz sounded and the door opened with a loud click. No keypad. The device on his wrist must have some sort of electronic key.

They escorted me from the room and down a twisting maze of halls to another locked, windowless room, where Winterfield did the same wrist swipe to unlock that door.

Inside was a room with a long table.

Winterfield motioned for me to sit and took the chair at the head of the table, next to some sort of flat display mounted on a swivel stand. Sanchez sat beside me and laid a slim briefcase on the table. He opened it and handed me a file folder thick with paper.

Winterfield gestured at the folder with a pen. "You're an operative now. That means reading."

I gave him a sour look which he ignored.

"I'll sum it up first," Sanchez said. "There's an agreement which you need to sign. Then there's a briefing which must be read tonight. It spells out your assignment and details your target. Tomorrow morning, return the files to us. You must have nothing on your person related to your assignment."

"Okay." I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jumpsuited thighs beneath the table.

Winterfield frowned. "Not 'okay,' Brandt. Say 'Yes', if you mean 'yes,' otherwise 'no.'"

Asshole.

"Yes," I said.

Sanchez smiled again. "Good. Upon completion of your assignment, this agency will put resources into your family's situation."

"Upon completion?" I interrupted him. "My grandmother needs medical help, _now_. My sisters are in danger, _now_. I won't be able to look after them at home as often as I'd like while on this assignment, so the sooner they get into a good, private school, the better."

Sanchez glanced at Winterfield.

My now former PO drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Unfortunately, _now_ isn't an option."

"What do you mean?"

He held up a finger. "One. We can arrange for your grandmother to be put in line for an experimental drug treatment for Thalik's disease, but these things take time. And we don't want to bring undue attention by having her receive extremely expensive treatment out of the blue. It would be highly suspicious. This operation must not be compromised in any way if it is to be effective."

He held up a second finger. "Two, we need to go slow on any assistance for your sisters. A sudden change in their circumstances would be even more suspicious."

"So who would notice?"

Winterfield's eyebrows shot up. "Really, Brandt? You can't be that naive. Your pal Silco found you, after all, which means he was surveilling you and probably your family as well."

A cold feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. I didn't like where this was going.

"Okay, so that was Gus," I said. "But my family is one of millions of poor people."

"Raphe Hatcher and his associates staked out your family when they learned of your release."

"How do you know that?"

He sighed. "I already mentioned you have been under surveillance since your release from Special Corrections. That included your family's movements."

"You were spying on my sisters, and didn't do anything?" I slapped the table, rattling Sanchez's briefcase.

Winterfield's expression was cool. Calm, collected, and in control, like he always seemed to be. "No, we didn't _do_ anything. Your sisters involved themselves with criminals. Then you went off to try to save them. Again, you made your choices. You acted upon them."

I glared at the tabletop. At least I could keep tabs on Ruth and the twins, make sure there were no more Raphe Hatcher's sniffing around.

Winterfield held up a third finger. "Three, you must move out of Ruth Brandt's apartment at once."

I jerked my head up. "No."

Winterfield drummed his fingers again on the tabletop. "Yes."

I shot to my feet. "No, I won't leave them. Period."

"Sit down, Brandt."

I stayed standing.

Sanchez leaned toward me, looking concerned. "Mat, you have to separate yourself from your family. If you don't, this operation will be terminated."

"Why?"

Winterfield scowled. "Because we don't back operations that fail out of the gate. You'll be dead, and your family likely will be as well."

More ice settled in the pit of my stomach. I pulled my chair up and sat down. "How do you know that?" I could keep an eye on them and do the job. I could.

"This isn't our first rodeo, Brandt. We have plenty of experience."

"If the operation doesn't happen, you will be returned to Special Corrections," Sanchez chimed in. "And if you are back in Special Corrections, you can't help your family."

I frowned. "I can keep a secret." I'd kept plenty, in the Renegades and in Special Corrections.

Winterfield leaned forward. "That isn't good enough. As long as you're around them, there's a risk they'll find out."

I licked my lips. My throat was parched again. "I thought you said you took care of the evidence of my fight with Hatcher's gang." My heart pounded and I closed my eyes, but I couldn't banish the screams of the men as the blackberry vines sawed at them. I shook myself, remembering the sweet hotness of my anger. Bastards had tried to _enslave_ me. I opened my eyes, looked at Sanchez.

"We want to do what's best for your family, too, Mat," he said.

He was right. Damn him. Damn him and Winterfield, damn Support. Damn the world.

"All right, I'll move out."

"Good," Sanchez said, giving me a 'butter could melt in his mouth' smile. If I wasn't so pissed, I'd find him irresistible. It had been forever since I'd been in a room with a man as attractive as Alexandre Sanchez. Maybe I never had, before this.

But none of that mattered now. How handsome and charming he was didn't matter.

I licked my lips again, trying to moisten them.

Winterfield poured a glass of water, pushed it across the table at me. "Drink, Brandt."

I drank the glass empty. What was I going to tell them?

"Maybe I should just stay away, not go back. They'll think I've run off."

Winterfield shook his head. "You can't just leave them by not returning. They'll wonder."

"Aren't they going to wonder what happened to me either way? What are they supposed to think?"

"That you persuaded them to leave the area."

"Just like that."

Winterfield frowned. "Yes, Brandt, it's that simple. I'm surprised you don't see it."

I scowled back at him. "See what?"

"You arranged to persuade Hatcher's gang to leave the area. As far as your family is concerned, that's exactly what happened. You are moving out because you're back in with some old friends. That's all your family needs to know, but they do need to know that."

I wanted to smash that smug look off his face. "Got it."

Winterfield's gaze was icy. "See that you do."

I drank more water, trying to calm down.

"So, do I learn which group I'm supposed to infiltrate?" I asked Sanchez. Winterfield was leading the show, but Sanchez was much easier on the eyes, and he made me calm down faster.

Sanchez glanced at Winterfield.

"Yes, Brandt," Winterfield said. "You do." He paused.

"Well?" I asked, after a long moment. He was enjoying this, damn him.

"The Scourge."

Well, well, well... "Gus Silco told me the Scourge was back. I figured he was lying."

"No, Brandt. Silco told you the truth."

"What the hell?" I fumed, crossing my arms. "Another thing you knew." I'd been set up from the get-go.

"It gets better."

Great, Winterfield's idea of better probably meant I was in deeper trouble than I imagined. Another long pause. He really enjoyed having me over a barrel, the bastard. "How?"

Winterfield steepled his fingers. "It so happens Gus Silco belongs to a Scourge cell active in the Pacific Northwestern United States, namely Oregon, Washington, and Idaho."

"Gus Silco, _Blender_ is a member of the Scourge?"

Winterfield nodded. "He is."

Unbelievable. Gus, a member? The Scourge must have changed a lot if they'd recruit a weasel like him. His blending made him a useful spy and sneak, and when he had the guts, a good thief. But Gus—damn you, Blender, you cut and run when it counted.

"You expect me to trust him?"

Winterfield cocked his head. "Don't be an idiot, Brandt. I expect you to be on your guard. The guy did leave you in the lurch."

My jaw tightened. "Okay. A Scourge cell? I don't know what that is."

Sanchez nodded. "Nor should you. The new version of the Scourge has adopted a cell structure, meaning it's organized into a number of small groups. Only the leader in each group knows who their contact is to the overall leadership, which the Scourge calls 'the inner circle.' No cell leaders know about the other cells. They only know who their contact to the leadership is."

"The inner circle," I repeated. "But how do they coordinate?" I'd never heard of a criminal group that operated like that, especially not an Empowered criminal group. Super-villains were usually crazy-bold.

"Do you know how the old Scourge was taken down?" Winterfield asked me.

"I was otherwise occupied at the time."

He looked at me sourly. "You were only in blackout for the first two years of your sentence."

Winterfield wouldn't understand. All I cared about when I finally got communication privileges with the outside world on my eighteenth birthday, was finding out how Ruth and the girls were doing. I couldn't have cared less about the rest of the world.

"You missed the biggest operation the Hero Council and Support have mounted since the Ubermensch Heresy in the 1990s."

I shrugged.

"You know the story of the Drake twins, right, Brandt? Tell us you know that much."

"I know who the Drake twins are." Who didn't? They were famous.

David Drake had been called Halo, and his twin brother Daniel, Hazard. Both could alter probability according to what people said. Sounded crazy to me. Halo could improve the odds of something working or an action succeeding. Hazard did the opposite. Made things worse.

They were the superstar members of World Guard, the Hero Council's worldwide unit, which, unlike the regional teams, could operate anywhere. Blond, with movie star looks and charm, David and Daniel were inseparable. Until seven years ago. When they were twenty-three. They had some kind of nasty argument. David went over to the dark side and joined the Scourge. He changed his name to Nefarious, if you could believe that.

"I assumed David Drake died in the Mojave battle. Figured Daniel retired after going after his brother." I really didn't know.

Winterfield leaned back in his chair and gave me another "I-can't-believe-you-are-that-ignorant" look.

"We believed both David and Daniel Drake had died in the operation in the Mojave Desert, at the Scourge's hidden fortress."

"That must have been a nasty fight."

"It was," Sanchez said. "I was there." A haunted look flashed across his face.

I wondered how many friends he'd lost in that battle.

"The thing is, Brandt," Winterfield continued, "Support now has reason to believe that David Drake survived the so-called 'Battle at the Hidden Fortress' because we have intel that Nefarious is back."

I blinked. "Shit."

"Yes," Sanchez said. "This means we need more information. The new Scourge is being very calculating and indirect in its activities. We have yet to identify a single base of operations, or anything beyond a few cells."

"Perhaps that's all there is," I pointed out.

"We have intel that says otherwise."

"From whom?"

"We are not going to divulge our sources to _you_ , Brandt," Winterfield said, sounding even more sour than normal.

"Okay, so you want me to infiltrate this local cell, and what, somehow figure out who the contact is?"

"No, Brandt, we want you to expose the cell leader to the Scourge's inner circle. We believe he's planning on betraying the Scourge for his own ends. If you expose what he is doing to the inner circle, that will gain you access."

"Let me see if I have this straight," I said. "I'm supposed to join a cell that weasel Gus Silco belongs to, figure out what the leader is up to. Then, instead of stopping whatever it is, I'm somehow supposed to expose him to this 'inner circle'."

I was in the shit for certain.

"To the contact, to be more precise," Sanchez said.

Great.

"How am I supposed to do all this?"

"You'll have guidance. You'll still be on parole, and you will be meeting with me when you can," Winterfield said. "We'll instruct you."

Great. Assuming I didn't die first.

# Chapter 4

Winterfield sent me to my room, carrying the files I had to read, escorted by Agent Sanchez. My side felt fine. I had healed way faster than I normally would have, given all the blood I lost. It was a miracle.

"Where is this place?" I asked as we turned down yet another identical-looking battleship gray corridor with linoleum flooring and those humming overhead lights that brightened when you moved. I was completely lost.

Sanchez laid a finger to his lips. "It's a secret," he said, and smiled.

Annoying as all hell. But it was hard to be too annoyed with someone who put it like that.

I almost laughed.

I stopped at an intersection. More identical corridors. "How do you not get lost in here? Down here?" I hadn't seen a window since I woke up in the hospital room.

He smirked. "Would you believe that's also a secret?"

"Hah." I gave him a hard look. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Not about that." He took me down another identical corridor, this one a dead end.

"Must be prisoner's row," I said.

"Guest quarters." He swiped his sleeve over the flat panel mounted by the door, which buzzed and unlocked. He opened the door with a neat flourish. "Your suite awaits."

He was laying it on a little thick. Perhaps he was just trying to be nice, or maybe it was just part of the whole "good cop" to Winterfield's "bad cop" routine.

The room had a desk, two chairs, kitchenette with microwave, a bunk, and a tiny bathroom. Another one of those flat screen displays hung on a wall.

I sat down on the bunk. "You don't seem like a typical Support agent."

Sanchez took the file folder from me and put it on the desktop. "Don't forget this is your one job tonight."

"I won't." Like I could forget. I had to nail this job.

He leaned against the desk, facing me. "I'm not a typical Support agent." He flashed that smile at me.

"No, you have a sense of humor." Not to mention that charm.

"It's not forbidden," Sanchez said, deadpan. "Just discouraged."

The door chimed and I jumped. "Doorbell?"

Sanchez's eyes sparkled. "This isn't a prison, despite your first impression."

"Is the door locked for me?"

"For now."

"So I'm a prisoner in this not prison."

"Enter," he said. The door buzzed, and opened. Voice command activated?

A figure swathed in blue medical scrubs with a matching blue masked helmet entered. The helmet's mask was molded to look like an angel's face. Even the boots the figure wore were blue.

My hands twitched.

"Easy, Mat," Sanchez said. "This is Medico Blue."

"How are you feeling, Ms. Brandt?" The voice had a British accent.

I knew that voice. It was the voice I'd heard when I first came to, in the ICU or whatever that had been.

Her hands were encased in blue gloves made of some sort of synthetic. Every inch of her was covered. I don't know how she saw anything; there were no eye holes in her face mask. Was she blind?

She didn't move like she was blind.

Medico Blue knelt beside me, and ran her gloved fingers over my side, down my legs and arms. My skin tingled where she touched me. The tingling told me she was another Empowered. But why hadn't I felt her when she was outside?

She finished her examination. "Your wound has healed completely. I am very pleased as, no doubt, you are."

No kidding. "Thank you," I said. "You must be why I'm still alive."

Medico Blue laid a gloved hand over mine. "I am merely God's instrument. She saved you, for reasons She will reveal in due course."

Medico Blue sounded so certain. Her faith must run deep. I wasn't going to argue with her, but I wasn't so sure about God. Having your parents killed when you were only four years old makes it hard to believe.

Ruth was a Methodist. Her faith was a quiet belief. She hadn't gone to church in years and didn't push us to go, growing up. Ruth had said we had to discover faith on our own.

"Thank God for me," I said.

Medico Blue tilted her head. "I will, but you certainly can on your own, and in your own way." She kept her gloved hand over mine. "Your power is stronger than you realize."

"Could have fooled me." I shifted irritably.

Medico Blue rose and went to stand beside Sanchez.

"Self-knowledge is the hardest win," Medico Blue said. I think she said it for both my and Sanchez's benefit.

Sanchez nodded.

Medico Blue tapped her chest. "Have faith in your gift. Good day." The door buzzed and opened with that loud click I was beginning to find annoying. It closed behind her with an answering click.

I suddenly felt very tired, and stretched out on the bed. "A medical checkup and a pep talk. Is that the norm around here?"

Sanchez brought a chair over. "She's right about your power. It is stronger than you realize and potentially very powerful."

I snorted. "I can make weeds grow super fast, kill plants, and hear trees in my head. Tremble before me."

"We'll help you develop your power."

I sat up, startling him. "So sure of yourselves, aren't you?" His confidence pissed me off. "I never had enough control over my power, and it betrayed me."

"We can help you see it differently."

Jesus, but he wouldn't stop with the confidence.

My anger ebbed away. I was so tired.

"Get some rest," he said. "There're a few instant meals in the kitchenette. Read the files. They include contact procedures, which we'll go over again tomorrow."

He got up and took the chair back to the desk. "Oh, and if you need to speak to Winterfield or myself, just say so in a loud, clear voice. We'll be notified."

"Okay."

He shot me another thousand-watt smile. "Like I said, get some rest."

"No kidding."

He left, with the same damn buzz-click routine with the door.

I was alone once more. I needed to think, but sleep overcame me.

When I awoke, I ate one of the insta-meals—chicken couscous with broccoli— and then tackled the files.

I sat at the desk, flicked on the little reading light, and opened the folder.

I would move into an abandoned house in North Portland, that Support had set up for me. I'd be a petty crook squatter, pretend to be on the down and out. I would be "estranged" from my family. I must make Gus and the others in the cell believe that was the truth.

Well, it wasn't far from the truth, if it wasn't the truth already.

But I'd still be meeting with my parole officer, who was valiantly trying to get me to come back to the straight-and-narrow. What a load of crap, but that was the story they'd cooked up, so I had to go with it.

I was to call Winterfield's number from pay phones. We'd still meet regularly because I was still pretending to be the good parolee as part of my cover. Seemed like a bit of flaw in Support's infiltration plan—but the terse instructions emphasized the value of my not being a wanted criminal. Hatcher's gang had just gone elsewhere as far as anyone outside Support knew.

How long would all this work? Especially since Ruth was going to believe I had gone back to crime.

I read about the Scourge cell next. There wasn't much info. Support figured the cell had between five and seven members. Aside from Gus, Support had names for two. There was a young woman close to my age named Keisha McMillan. There was one photo from a few years ago of an angry-looking black teenager glaring at the photographer. The other was only a name, the leader, Kai Jones, nicknamed "Mutter." Mutter: what kind of Empowered name was that? It sounded ridiculous. Stupid.

I had been named "Vine" back in the Renegades. Thinking about my old name brought on the memories again. "Eye-spy"—Tanya, my best friend in the group—had named me Vine because I loved to conjure and grow ivy vines, blackberry vines, any kind of vines; they were easy, and so useful.

I blinked away sudden tears. Damn it. We'd both been so young, and stupid.

I pushed the memories away. I had to focus on this. For Ruth and the twins.

Mutter had succeeded the Empowered who had originally formed the cell a year ago. That person had died in a mysterious "accident." Awfully convenient for Mutter.

Since then, Mutter's cell mostly spent its time lifting money from ordinary criminal gangs. No bank heists for him. Instead, crooks were his prey. I wondered how much of that money reached the Scourge's inner circle?

The short file on Mutter said his power was manipulating air currents. He possessed "the ability to finely tune the flow of air, concentrate it, and restrict it." His victims tended to be found asphyxiated. Not that there were many pleasant ways to croak off.

The report ending by claiming Mutter was believed to be extremely ruthless.

What had I gotten myself into?

The next morning, after an insta-meal breakfast, Sanchez—Alex—took me back to the briefing room where Winterfield made me recite what I'd read, and then went over it with me, again. It felt like hours, but when I groused about it, Winterfield told me it wasn't even lunch time.

I hated studying.

Then it was time for paperwork. God, but I hated that more.

I signed I don't know how many "allegiance"' forms, which all amounted to pledging my loyalty to Support, the UN charter on Empowered Conduct, the Hero Council Code, and so on.

I finally finished signing my life away.

Winterfield put away the ream of paperwork I'd signed. "We've got one more thing for you before lunch."

"What?" Damn him and his mind games.

"Just a little test."

"What kind of test?" I asked.

"The necessary kind."

I didn't like the sound of that.

He and Sanchez led me through a maze of yet more identical corridors to a huge, high-ceilinged, windowless room the size of a school gymnasium. The walls and the floor had some sort of padded armor. The floor felt and looked like metal that had some give to it.

In the center of the room were three big round wooden planters, spaced six feet apart. The left-hand one had what looked like a rose bush, the right-hand one, some kind of grass, and the center one, ivy on a little trellis.

A woman in a black jumpsuit and combat boots walked from the far side of the room to stand beside the right-hand planter She put a gloved hand on the planter's rim.

She looked Chinese. Her long black hair hung in a braid down her back.

I swallowed. My stomach felt like I swallowed a ball of lead.

The air in here was moist, like standing in a hothouse, despite the only plants being the three in the planters in the center of the room.

I looked at Winterfield. "I'm expected to fight her?"

"Don't be stupid, Brandt. Like I said, this is a test." He nodded at the woman. "Go to her. We'll watch from the sidelines." He and Sanchez went to a corner, crossed their arms, and waited.

Great, I had my own peanut gallery.

Medico Blue entered the room, and joined them. The peanut gallery was getting bigger, and now I had my own EMT on hand. Medico Blue being here meant someone could get injured, unless she just liked to watch. My money was on her being available to give first aid.

Damn Winterfield.

I took a deep, slow breath but my stomach still felt like lead. I forced my legs to march toward the center of the room.

She watched me approach. Smiled at me.

"Good morning, Ms. Brandt." Her accent sounded Philadelphian. I'd had a friend growing up who had come from our nation's capital, Philadelphia, and this woman sounded just like her. You could almost hear the liberty bell, the joke around school used to go.

She had to be an American—maybe her parents or grandparents were refugees from China, after the destruction of Beijing and Shanghai in the Three Days War, half a century ago.

"Hi." I shifted my stance. The flooring felt spongy and metallic at the same time. "What's your name?" I asked her.

She ran a hand along the planter's rim. "Sorry, I'm not allowed to say."

"Not even your Empowered name?" Assuming she had one—she was probably Hero Council, although some members didn't use an Empowered name most did. She wasn't hiding her face, and most Hero Council Empowered didn't. "We're the opposite of masked bandits," went the Hero Council line.

She gave me an apologetic look. "Not even that."

Figured. "So, what happens now?"

"You use your power." She pointed at the sharp-bladed grass in the right hand planter. "Reach into the sawgrass here with your gift, feel the sawgrass growing, taste it in your mind, tremble with it as it sways fractionally in the air currents."

I frowned. "I don't taste plants with my power, I hear them in my mind."

She walked around the planters to stand beside me. "That's because you are still numb to the greater part of your power."

"It's how I am. Numbness isn't part of it." My neck flushed with heat and I took a step back from her.

"There's no need to get angry. I am here today to show you the depths of your power."

Great, another helpful person telling me I didn't know my so-called gift like I should. It had always worked this way for me—it wasn't like my power was a world-beater.

"I'm not getting angry," I said, unclenching my fingers. But I was. She was irritating me.

"No, of course not." She pointed again at the saw grass. "Please extend your sense into the grass."

I did as she instructed, half closing my eyes. The grass whispered sandpaper murmurings in my head.

"What does it taste like in your sense?" She asked. "When you taste it, you will know how to grow it."

Taste it? That was crap. There was nothing to taste. "Nothing at all. I told you, I can't taste a thing."

"You can, if you try."

I shut my eyes. Taste what? My irritation made it hard to concentrate. "I don't need to taste the grass, as you put it, in order to make it grow."

"Do you 'make the grass grow,' or spur it to growth, encourage it to grow?"

I unclenched my fingers again.

"Same difference."

"Is it? That's your challenge—to understand the difference. Tasting the grass with your awareness will give you more control, and control is the key."

Screw this. She wanted me to grow the grass, I didn't need to "taste" it to do so, so grow it I would.

The air felt rich in nitrogen and carbon dioxide—this room must have a higher mix in the air. The soil was rich with nutrients and moisture. I urged the grass to pull nutrients from the soil, and inhale CO2.

I pushed my awareness further into the grass, willed it to grow, fueling the growth with my annoyance at my tester and Winterfield.

The green blades swelled and stretched toward the ceiling.

She waved at me. "Not so fast! Slow down!"

The saw grass towered above us. I yanked my power from it, and the grass collapsed into a green tangle, a low screaming in my mind. Pain stabbed at my forehead. I winced, shut my eyes.

Something yanked at my boots. My legs shot out from under me and I banged my tailbone on the floor. God damn.

I jumped to my feet. I'd show her. I cocked an arm back to punch her and my traitor legs were yanked off the ground and I banged my butt again on the floor.

"Call me Flick." She held her arms wide. She gestured, and my boots moved toward each other. I strained my muscles, fighting to get up, but I couldn't move my legs. She lowered her hands and the pressure stopped.

My legs spasmed and I rolled on the floor, eyes squeezed shut. Finally, the spasming stopped.

"That's an example of my power," Flick said. She could clench my muscles, send me into spasms. I hadn't imagined an Empowered could do something so precise.

I scrambled up. I wanted to punch the smugness off her face.

"You blindsided me."

She nodded. "A demonstration. Here's another."

She flicked a finger across the room, to a table beside Winterfield, Sanchez and Medico Blue. A half dozen water bottles stood on the table. Flick crooked a finger and one of them sailed off the table and floated to me.

"You look parched." Her face was deadpan.

"No thanks." My breath was tight in my chest. Show off.

"Suit yourself." The bottle went to her outstretched hand. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink.

I licked dry lips. She wasn't going to show me up.

I pushed the anger inside me down, forced my voice to stay level. "What's next?" I sounded like an idiot, but I wanted to pass this test, already, and get on with my mission.

Flick strolled over to the left-hand planter and pointed at the rose bush. It had just begun to bud.

"Taste the potential before helping the rose to bud and flower."

I sighed. I'd play her game. "Okay." I reached into the rose bush, listened to its soft, wordless song. Taste it? How the hell could I do that? There was nothing to taste.

Flick continued. "Submerge yourself in your subject's physicality." She sounded like a school teacher.

"You're a TK, right?" I spoke with my eyes still closed. "So, what does a TK know about melding with a plant?"

"Physicality, remember." I could hear the smile in her voice. "It's all the same. I must feel what the object is experiencing."

The rose trembled in my mind as I pushed my awareness deeper into it. Open up. I urged the plant to drink from the air faster, moving nutrients through its body more quickly.

The faintest scent of a rose petal. I pushed, harder. Drink deep I commanded the rose bush. It shrieked in my mind, and I staggered.

The plant died before me, leaves blackening, half budded flowers curling and falling away in fragments.

I'd killed it.

All because Flick pushed me to taste it. I pushed into the ivy vines on the trellis behind her, extended them.

"Brandt!" Winterfield shouted but I ignored him, concentrated on extending the vines.

Flick smiled, pivoted. The trellis pulled free from the soil. The ivy shrieked, even more sharply than the rose bush had.

I urged it to grow faster, extending roots into the soil. I was going to show her.

The trellis floated upward, the ivy stretching out like a man on a torture rack.

My heart jackhammered in my chest, my breath came in huge, ragged gasps. Pain spiked my temples, but I plunged further into the dead rosebush with my power, found the seeds for life, and willed a new one into being. I had to save the ivy.

Sharp thorns grew from spreading branches in an eye blink.

The newly-born giant rose bush swung branches outward at Flick's back, inch-long thorns swinging toward her exposed flesh.

Flick pivoted, gestured, and the trellis flew into the rosebush, ivy vines entangling the rose branches.

The ivy vines moved without my command, constricted the branches. I pushed the vines to untangle, but they continued to constrict. How could Flick's power be so finely tuned? I fought harder to move the vines, but they were wrapped tightly around the branches and between them. I switched to pouring energy into the branches, to saw through the vines, but the branches wouldn't move.

I groaned. Exhaustion slammed into me, and I dropped to my knees.

The world dimmed. I fell to the floor, rolled onto my back.

Blue-gloved hands ran along my sides, and arms. Medico Blue knelt beside me. Behind her clustered Flick, Sanchez and Winterfield. Flick and Sanchez looked concerned, while Winterfield shook his head in disgust.

"You pushed yourself too hard," Medico Blue said. Soothing warmth filled me, and the pain fled.

She and Sanchez helped me to my feet. My strength returned, faster than I imagined possible.

The rose bush and ivy were a snarled mess.

"What now?" I asked Winterfield.

He looked at Flick.

She shot me a sympathetic glance, turned back to Winterfield.

"Mathilda must connect with herself in order to grow in her gift. Until she does, she will remain where she is." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Winterfield nodded and looked at me. "You hear that, Brandt? You are your own worst enemy."

Thanks for the insight. I gave him a cold smile. I never would have guessed.

"Experience is the key," Flick added.

"If it doesn't kill her first." He nodded. "Thank you, Flick."

She and Medico Blue left.

Sanchez and Winterfield spoke in low voices for what felt like forever.

The room suddenly seemed chilly. Nausea swam up from my roiling stomach and a cold sweat ran down my back.

I had failed the test. They would send me back for life.

Winterfield stared at me, his gaze hard, ice blue eyes unblinking. I looked away.

"All right, then," Winterfield finally said. "You're in, Brandt. God help us."

"But I blew the test." That didn't make sense.

"I expected you would."

"Then why\--"

He cut me off with a gesture. "We needed an expert assessment, and we wanted to see how you behaved under pressure. And you desperately needed a lesson. From now on think more clearly before acting."

Sanchez came over. "Like I said, we can help you grow into your power, but it will take time and, besides, we don't want to make your old associate, Silco, suspicious about how far you've come. Your improvement needs to seem natural, not forced."

Assuming I survived it.

And didn't kill anyone in the process.

# Chapter 5

Afterwards, Sanchez and I went over contact procedures again in my room. I had to memorize phone numbers, code words, and the address for my new place. It was an abandoned house in North Portland, in a depressing part of town.

I started to argue with Sanchez again about having to move out of Ruth's, but he wouldn't budge.

"I don't make the rules," he said. We sat side by side at the little desk in my room.

"Mister Sanchez," I began.

" _Alex_ , remember?" He interrupted with a bright smile. "I'm only a few years older than you, after all. Besides, you need to think of me as a low-level crook rather than a Support agent.

I still couldn't image Mister Charming here as a scummy lowlife type, but that was why they were called agents, I guess.

I struggled to remember how long I'd been in this prison-like place. It seemed like a month, but my confrontation with Raphe Hatcher's little gang had been on Tuesday afternoon. Sanchez—Alex—had said I'd been unconscious for eighteen hours, so I woke up Wednesday morning. So it was only Thursday afternoon.

"I need to get to Ruth's place. She'll be very worried." Not that she'd show it, but it would be eating at her inside.

He scooted his chair back, faced me. "You need to meet with Silco before that."

"Why?" I wanted to check on Ruth and the twins, before having to go meet weaselly Blender.

He didn't answer right away. He put the files back in his little folder.

This was screwed. What was the point in making my family think I was lying dead in a ditch somewhere any longer than I already had?

"All I can say is that we believe your best chance to be admitted into the Scourge cell Silco belongs to is for Mutter and the cell to believe you ran off already, and are becoming desperate."

I began pacing the tiny room. "Do you think Silco knows about my, uh, fight with Hatcher and his people?" Near murder was more like it. I shouldn't weep over nearly killing a bunch of nasty gangers—they had it coming—but still, why hadn't they just backed down?

"Unlikely. Remember, Support sanitized the area."

My jaw tightened. "That's right, you had me under surveillance the whole time."

Alex wasn't the asshole Winterfield was, he actually looked guilty. "I am sorry. Procedure is a harsh mistress," he said in a low voice, and in a way that sounded like a quote out of a Support Agents training manual.

I forced myself to take a slow breath. "Okay. I get it. It wasn't your choice." It was a lot harder to stay mad at him than Winterfield.

He smiled. "Thanks. We really do want to help you."

Sure, help me so that I can help you, but that was the way things worked.

I shrugged. "I'm ready to get started when you are." The sooner I met up with Silco and told him I wanted in, the sooner I could convince Ruth and the girls I was alive— by showing up and then promptly moving out. It all sucked, but at least I wasn't in prison. I wasn't going to lose this chance to help them.

Not this time.

Leaving wherever this was turned out to be its own kind of rigmarole. In the cramped bathroom I changed into the clothes I had worn when I confronted Hatcher's gang, including an undamaged version of my shirt. When I emerged, Winterfield and the red-headed woman who had brought me lunch yesterday were there with Sanchez in the now crowded little room.

The woman carried a helmet, something like a deep sea diving helmet, only there were no viewing ports. She put a breathing mask over my face first.

"Filters," she explained. She held up earplugs. "We need to isolate you, so that you have no idea of where you are when you leave."

"Gee, thanks."

"Procedure, Brandt," Winterfield said. "If you don't know, you can't spill it."

Paranoid much, Winterfield? I thought, but kept my mouth shut and let them fit me with the earplugs and the face mask, and then thick, rubber gloves that went way past my elbows.

Down came the helmet and the world went black. I was put on some kind of dolly and strapped in. The dolly began moving.

I lost track of how many times my stomach lurched. I went up, at least it felt like I went up.

Into a vehicle—a truck? Time passed.

When they released me from Special Corrections I never imagined I'd be doing spook stuff like a real spy. Okay, so I was a snitch. Okay, so Winterfield called what I was doing "infiltration," but a spy was a spy. Heroes didn't get wrapped up in all this crap and hauled God only knew where. Yeah, I didn't exactly have a cheerful attitude at that point.

Ghosts came to me while I was blind and deaf. Tanya, and the Professor. He may have been crazy smart, but he was a kind dude, too, and where had that got him? Dead. There were the other Renegades. All dead now. Except for Gus. I didn't want to think about him, so I thought about my family.

Ruth was tough, but beneath it all she cared. She was kind, and where had that got her? Dying is where.

It was easy to be in a black funk when everything was black. I suddenly realized I wasn't moving any more.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

My straps were removed, followed by the gloves. I flexed my arms.

The helmet came off next, and finally the mask. I took in a breath of unfiltered air, air thick with the mingled scents of pine and fir trees, leafy shrubs still dormant, and moss.

I opened my eyes.

It was nearly pitch dark. My eyes began to adjust to the gloom.

A greasy looking dude in a hoodie and torn jeans sat beside me, looking like a homeless man.

I blinked. He was pretty handsome for a streeter.

"Alex?"

He shook his head. "I guess the disguise needs to be tweaked."

I shrugged. "I'm good with faces." Besides, it was either going to be him or Winterfield, and I'd bet Winterfield never pulled on scummy old clothes.

"Could have been me," Winterfield said up front, sitting in the driver's seat. We were in a cargo van, with heavily tinted windows.

"He didn't look old enough."

He ignored the jibe. "We wanted you to see Agent Sanchez incognito here. We're in a rest stop south of Wilsonville. Your vehicle is parked outside. A Dodge Dasher."

"I have a car?" I'd never owned a car of my own.

"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 grandmother'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 what 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.

It seemed to take forever to drive the five miles or so from Ruth's apartment to North Portland.

The new place turned out to be an old house built just before the Three Days War, in the early 1960s. A willow tree stood in the front yard, behind an overgrown hedge. I drove past, as instructed in the file, and parked in an empty lot two blocks away, beside another boarded-up building.

Ruth liked to say Portland had its ups and downs, but mostly downs. While I had been in Special Corrections another recession had hit Oregon. Portland still hadn't recovered. Another reason why I'd had trouble finding work.

At least it made finding empty lots beside boarded-up buildings easier.

The rain came down even harder, pounding the pavement. I ran the whole three blocks to the house. The trees I passed murmured in a slumbering chorus.

I wondered if the green giants dreamed, or if the murmurs were just them trembling in their sleep? The thought rattled around in my head as I ran.

I reached the dark house. A towering row of arbor vitae surrounded the backyard. No fence. I eased my special sense into the arbor vitae, urged it to move. The bushes trembled and the branches shifted slowly to create an opening in front of me.

My stomach churned. I bent over and gagged bile. Awakening the slumbering plant hurt. It wasn't like urging blackberry vines to grow, the arbor vitae moved so much slower.

I staggered through the opening.

I couldn't do this every time I went through the arbor vitae. I sucked in air, straightened, and tried to ignore the flaring pain as I directed the hedge to close around the opening until a thin curtain of branches hid the passage.

That would have to do. I winced and massaged my side. The bullet wound was gone, but the exertion made my side ache where I'd been hit. Still couldn't believe I'd nearly died.

Now here I was, about to sneak into my new place.

I unlocked the padlock on the back door with the key Support gave me, then unlocked the deadbolt. The top corners of the door frame were covered in old spiderwebs.

The air inside the house was musty. Not a huge surprise.

No lights, when I flicked a switch. On the kitchen counter was a battery-powered lamp, I flicked the penlight I'd been given on, and looked at it. A note written in block print said "use this."

Okay, so I was an idiot.

I half expected to find a hoarder's paradise, but the house was nearly empty. The floors were bare and the place was actually pretty neat for being "abandoned." We-think-of-everything Support actually owned the house, and used foreclosure as a convenient cover. Must be nice to be able to control things like that. Assuming you didn't mind doing everything because you were assisting the Hero's Council. Yeah, I was feeling cynical.

The bedroom had a clean floor, a clean sleeping bag and pillow, and another battery-powered lamp.

I checked the bathroom—the plumbing worked. Thank God for small favors.

There were insta-meals in the cupboards—enough for weeks.

I should be starving, but I wasn't hungry, despite my nearly killing myself getting the arbor vitae to play open sesame. I was restless. I paced the house until I got bored walking around the dark rooms.

I knelt in a corner and stared at the hardwood floor in the yellow lamplight. I traced my finger along the whorls in the pine. The pattern the whorls made pulled at me. I caressed the wood. I couldn't help myself. I extended my sense into the dead pine.

Sensations flashed in my mind. Sticky hot. Dry hot. Warm. Frozen water. Rain soaking, splashing, pounding.

I gasped. Past seasons ran through my mind. I trembled. I had never tried to reach into dead wood before. The seasons echoed through my mind, so many seasons, flying by now.

I struggled to pull my awareness away. The wood was dead. It should be easy, but there was something locked inside, a final message.

Pain's sharp edge still screamed in the pine. Great pain. Searing pain still echoed in the dead wood. I jerked my awareness away from the tree, yanking my fingers off the floor. So much pain still locked away in that dead wood, the last impression of the pine tree's life.

The next morning lasted forever. I woke, ate an insta-meal of oatmeal and apples, drank some instant coffee, and sat in a chair in the kitchen, waiting for Gus to call. But the damn phone remained silent.

I paced the house. Lunchtime came and went. I had no appetite but ate anyway. Pasta with chicken and broccoli.

Still no call from Gus.

Damn him, this was supposed to be a shoo-in. I exercised in my bedroom, pushups, dips using the windowsill, followed with squats and lunges but the nervous energy wouldn't go away.

By 4PM I was ready to climb the walls. What was taking the little jerk so long? Screw it. I had to take a walk. I slipped out the back, checking to make sure no one was watching me, and slipped through the arbor vitae. I fast-walked down the street, hood up, face down.

I called the number Winterfield gave me from a pay phone at a gas station a few blocks away.

Always keep in persona, the briefing had stressed.

"Mister Winterfield, it's Mathilda Brandt."

"Good afternoon, Miss Brandt."

We sounded like clichéd versions of the parolee and her PO, but this was the procedure.

"Have you heard back about that job?" Fake PO Winterfield asked.

I fought to keep the frustration out of my voice as I answered. "Not yet. I thought they would have called by now."

"These things can take time, Miss Brandt. Keep me posted."

Click. Gee thanks for the information, Winterfield. Always nice to chat with you. He was a big help.

All the next day, my phone remained silent. I didn't hang out well. I needed to be doing something, moving this job forward. Not just sitting around on my ass and watching moss grow in the backyard.

The day after that I was not only ready to climb the walls, I was ready to tear them down.

I had to get out again.

After the sun went down, I got in the Dasher and drove over to Ruth's. At least I could see how they were doing.

Yeah, I know, Support had specifically instructed me to _not_ see my family, but the hell with them. I couldn't wait around any longer.

I parked the car next to the storage building, and sat there for a long time, warring with myself. I had left with lots of drama, left like I was supposed to leave. Burned my bridges.

Screw it. I went up the stairs, shoulders hunched, and knocked on Ruth's door. If I could talk to her, I could make things right.

I shifted my feet, stared at the door handle rather than the peephole.

The door's deadbolt clacked. The door opened a couple of inches, the door chain still hooked.

Ella peered at me through the crack.

"Mat? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how things were going."

"About the same." Talk about a non-answer.

"How's Ruth?"

"About the same." Ella wasn't budging. Come on open up, I wanted to shout. Let me in!

"Can I come inside? I want to talk to Ruth."

Her expression hardened. "She doesn't want to talk with you. I don't either." She closed the door in my face. I heard the sound of the deadbolt locking.

I stood there like an idiot, staring at the door, wishing it would open. I still had my key. I could unlock the door and slam it open, snapping the chain. It wouldn't be hard.

I slunk down to the car and drove back to the house.

Noon the next day there was still no word from Gus. I'd had enough. I was going to track that weasel down and find out why he hadn't called me. I had memorized his haunts from the files Support had me study. Typical Gus. Dive bars and bookstores, the grungier the better.

I went to his hidey-hole first. I climbed the fire escape and slipped inside.

No Gus. I cased the place. Just as when I'd first visited, piles of moldering newspapers and magazines clogged the place. There were dog-eared paperback books, a cassette player so old it was covered with chips and dings. The only tapes were classical. I hadn't known Gus's taste in music. He'd never seemed interested in music back in the Renegades, so I never imagined he would be into Brahms and Handel.

The copy of _Great Expectations_ still lay on the old chair by the window.

I picked the book up. An Oregon Shakespearean Festival leather bookmark, one with a unicorn stenciled on it was in the book. The bookmark Gus had had since forever.

I left, and spent the rest of the day hitting up every dive bar and bookstore on the list. No sign of him. I asked around, mentioning I was a friend. None of the staff at the various places recalled seeing him lately. I got a few looks—no surprise there, they were probably all shocked that a young woman was looking for scummy Silco. That's what my best friend Tanya used to call him back when we were in the Renegades together.

I can't believe I had defended Gus, back then. Sure, he didn't stink—no matter how much time he spent on the street—and his clothes, despite being old, always somehow managed to be clean, but he was a weasel.

He was still a weasel. He was hiding, or dead. It would be just my luck if he were dead. My chance of getting into the Scourge cell would be blown for good and with it, my freedom.

Winterfield wasn't the understanding sort.

Then it hit me. I'd missed the obvious. Gus loved to read. He always had a book with him. Always. And he always had to finish what he started.

That copy of _Great Expectations_ and the bookmark in it. He wouldn't be parted more than a day from that bookmark, or from reading the book it was in. He had to get in his reading fix and, like I said, could only read one thing at a time.

Stupid—I should have saved myself the runaround.

I raced back to his hidey-hole. Up the fire escape and into the grunge.

No Gus. My heart pounded as I reached the end table. The book was still there.

Good. Now I just had to wait.

Of course, if he was dead, then I was out of luck, but if there was one thing I was sure of about Gus, besides his being a weasel supreme, it was that he was a survivor.

I'd never read Dickens, this was as good a time as any. I found a place near the window but out of sight of the outside, and settled in to read.

A soft clumping on metal brought me out of the story. Someone climbed the fire escape. My skin tingled in that way it did when another Empowered was near.

I slipped further in the room, deeper into the shadows. I reached with my power, brushed the ivy growing up the back of the building, urged it to strengthen and pull nitrogen from the air.

A silhouette appeared in the window, framed by daylight, and dropped down into the room.

_Grow_ , I commanded the ivy and it snaked up, vines like hot wires in my mind, until it covered the window behind the figure.

The hood fell back, revealing Gus's long tousled hair. He went to the end table, froze.

"Looking for this?" I held up the book. "Pretty good read."

He jerked away from me, stumbled over a pile of magazines and fell backwards into another pile. And then he was gone.

The mesh of vine trembled. I pushed my essence into the mass, thickened the vines into rope.

Gus reappeared against the window, frantically trying to burrow through the tangle of green.

I grabbed his hood, hauled him off the windowsill, and then whirled him around to face me.

"I thought you were going to help me, Gus." I pushed him away from the window and into a wall, still facing me.

"I tried, Mathilda, I tried, but they said no."

"Who said no, Gus?"

He flinched away from my glare. "Mutter. The cell leader. He said no."

"And you caved just like that? You promised me, Gus." I didn't have to fake my rage.

I slammed him into the wall.

"Ow," he grunted.

Blood pounded in my ears. Everything was on the line here: my family. My freedom. This weasel wasn't going to stop me from getting into the Scourge and completing my mission.

I leaned in close to him. "You promised," I said in a low voice.

He sucked in air. "I couldn't do anything. I tried, but you don't know Mutter. He'll kill me if I go against him."

"Weasels always say they'll get in trouble if there's something they don't want to do. You need to be worried about what I might do to you _right now_."

I shoved him, hard, back into the wall. Banged him again. He had promised me, and again, he was letting me down.

He yelped, eyes squeezed in pain, and he suddenly stank of fear. He tried to blend into the wall, but I still held him.

"Mat, please, please! You have to believe me, I wanted to help you, really!" The words tumbled out of him in quick bursts. "I went to Mutter, told him I had a new recruit. I figured he'd be pleased, but he asked all sorts of questions. When he found out you'd just been released, he lost interest. Said you wouldn't work out."

"Wouldn't work out, what the hell does that mean?"

He shrank against the wall.

I must have looked like murder.

"He doesn't think you are right for the cell.

Killing Gus wouldn't get me anywhere except back in prison for good. Think, Mat, think! I told myself.

I had to find this Mutter and show him I was what his cell needed.

I relaxed my grip on Gus. "I need this, Gus. Take me to Mutter and I'll convince him I can help."

He shook his head, suddenly frantic. "I can't! Wish I could, really I do, but he'll kill me. Slowly."

The fear in Gus's eyes was real.

I switched to guilting him.

"You promised me you could help," I said. "Promised. I'm in a bad way. I need money, help—a way out of this mess. I pull off a crime on my own, and I'll be caught, but if I'm in your group things will be different, I know they will." I laid it on thick. I hated lying, but what choice did I have?"

I let that sink in.

"You go and think about this, Gus." I dragged him over to the window. "I'll hold onto your book while you do, and just wait here."

I waved my hand, willed the vines to part. I brushed against one, heavy with seeds. I ordered it to separate just below the buds. Palmed a sprig.

Gus rubbed his face. "Mat, I'm sorry."

"Go, think about what I said. Talk to Mutter."

Gus's problem was that below his weaselly exterior there really _was_ a conscience. I bet it would push him to go to the big, bad cell leader and ask Mutter to reconsider my application for Scourge membership.

He started to say something else, but he took one look at my face and turned to climb over the sill.

I snuck the sprig into a hole in the back of his jacket, and flowered the vine, filling it with life, willing it spread out in the lining of his jacket just enough that it could live.

He climbed down the fire escape and blended in with the junk around the fence.

I gave him a minute and then followed, holding another piece of the same vine in my hand.

Back when I was in the Renegades I used to plant a sprig or a blossom on someone when I wanted to follow them. Worked really well on normals, and it also let me track Gus. Tanya and I used to call Gus "Creepo Supremo" behind his back. He liked to pop out of nowhere and talk to us in that nervous stutter of his. Once I planted a dandelion on him, kept it alive while I followed him around with Tanya. Tanya was a "peeper", an Empowered who could see out of someone else's eyes, as long as she could see that person.

Like I said, Gus's blending didn't make him invisible, it just made him really hard to spot. As long as I kept close after I "planted" him— a hundred yards, or two hundred at most—I knew where he was. If I knew where Gus was, I could spot him. Then Tanya could see through my eyes to see Gus, and then see out of _his_ eyes.

He'd come back and Tanya would spin all kinds of stories about how she could read the mind of a "susceptible" Empowered at a distance.

The Professor let us have our fun. Gus bought it hook, line, and sinker

He never got angry, just frightened. I guess it made Tanya seem awesomely powerful if she could scan him from any distance, because he was "susceptible" to her power.

I wonder if things would have gone differently if I'd "planted" a sprig on him the day the Hero Council came down on the Renegades like God's hammer.

I pushed the memory away. No time for bad memories.

No way I was going to blow this chance. Winterfield would be pissed when he found out what I was doing, but that was the breaks. No time to ask for permission, so I'd settle for forgiveness.

It started raining as I followed Gus over the Burnside Bridge. New high-rise buildings cut off the view of the West Hills. Broken bottles, old cigarette stubs, newspapers, and other crap littered the sidewalk. The Hero Council's "clean patrol," one of its youth organizations for "normals," could stand to make a visit.

I kept Gus in sight. The sprig riding in his field jacket pulsed in my mind. Gus was a shadowy figure, almost like one of those paper cutouts, standing out against the background of the city.

A car passing by me hit a big puddle. Water sheeted up. I ducked, threw up my arm to cover my head. Still got soaked. I wiped my face, swore. Blinked.

Gus had vanished.

I started running. I dodged a couple of streeters pushing shopping carts filled with junk. Jumped over an occupied sleeping bag.

It stopped raining, and the clouds parted. A white blimp was high overhead, with the blue Hero Council logo on the side, a stylized "HC" with a globe between the letters.

Shit. I skidded to a stop, my heart hammering in my ears. That thing bristled with high-powered cameras. I ducked my head. The surveillance blimps were new, rolling out while I was in Special Corrections. All part of the "keep the world safe for normals," initiative. They recorded everything out in public, to pick up any crimes. The UN was still hashing out building a camera network in US cities on the ground, so this was supposedly a temporary thing, showcasing what it could do. Portland shared one with Salem and Eugene to the south.

Worse, if the stories were true, there might be a finder on board. Legend had it that the Hero Council had Empowereds capable of sensing other Empowered at long range stationed aboard the surveillance blimps.

Maybe that was just a myth.

Maybe.

I wondered if the Hero Council had me on file as a Support operative?

Something about the way I'd been recruited into helping Support told me that the answer was probably no. Winterfield had always been tough to read, but after the whole fake parole officer routine, one thing was blindingly obvious—he liked to keep things close to his chest.

I walked, head down, and stretched out with my special sense, trying to locate the sprig. It wouldn't live long without me putting more vitality into it.

A twinge of agony echoed ahead of me. I sensed a thirst for nitrogen and a wordless cry in my mind. I extended my essence, managed to recapture the connection with the vine and send some of my life essence into it, using that to draw more nitrogen. Gus was two blocks west of me, on Burnside. I followed him up to Broadway.

The Hero Council Blimp meandered off to the north, toward the Columbia River and Vancouver, disappearing into a low cloud.

Gus turned south, walking slower now.

Reluctantly?

I smiled to myself. Heading to Mutter, Gus?

I kept my head down, my eyes on the sidewalk as I passed a newspaper stand. A headline— _New Hero Council team for Northwest?_ bannered the front page of today's Oregon Journal.

Great, just what I needed.

The plant riding on the back of Gus's coat suddenly moaned as it went into shadow. I quickened my pace.

Gus must have gone into the Imperial Hotel, a block ahead of me.

The Imperial was a weather-worn five-story brick building. Moss covered the side facing me. I hurried to close the distance.

I stepped through the revolving door into the carpeted lobby, its ancient woodwork dull in the yellow light. This place might have been something once, many years ago, but now it seemed like a forlorn and forgotten place.

Why would Mutter choose a dump like this to hole up in?

Maybe Gus was meeting someone else. I closed my eyes, concentrated.

Gus was close by. The elevators. I went up a short flight of stairs to where the two elevators were, just in time to see Gus disappear inside the far one.

Once the doors closed, I watched the number on the elevator light climb nonstop until it reached the fifth floor.

I lost the connection to the vine riding Gus's back, but that wasn't the only connection I possessed.

I took the other elevator up to the fifth floor, got out, and started slowly walking the hall's faded carpet. Halfway down the hall my skin began tingling, becoming a thousand little electric needles as I passed the double door to the Regency suite.

More than one Empowered was in the suite.

I raised my hand to knock, hesitated. What would Mutter think about me following Gus here? Would he be suspicious? Maybe I should have waited longer before acting, but I couldn't. Time was wasting. If I'd waited any longer, maybe the opportunity would have been gone.

My knock was louder than I intended, and I jumped at the sound.

The air rustled at my feet and the top of my head, ruffling my hair.

The handles turned, and the doors swung open.

"Come in." The words were a whisper, seeming to come from right beside my ear. I whirled around.

No one there.

I walked into the suite.

Gus stood next to a beat-up couch. He looked scared shitless.

Sitting on the couch was a skinny guy in a fancy green suit, the kind with a high collar that covered his throat. He had a styled mop of dark blond hair, bangs down over his eyes. He looked like the kind of a guy that spent his time in art galleries and swanky penthouse parties, not hanging out in a dump like the Imperial Hotel.

He was good looking, if you liked guys without any meat on them. He had this smug half-smile thing going on. Gave me the creeps and annoyed the crap out of me at the same time. The weirdest thing was that his fingers were cupped around his mouth to make a funnel.

The air around me rustled and the doors behind me shut with a rattle. The intel on the cell had said Kai Jones, the leader, could control air currents.

Bingo. My plan had worked. Gus had led me straight to him.

"Kai Jones?"

The air whispered beside me. "Call me Mutter."

Dumb name, but I'd play along. One thing was for sure, I wasn't going to let him intimidate me.

I walked to a chair across from the couch, sat.

His stared at me like I was a bug that had just crawled out of the carpet. I wanted to look away, but kept my eyes on him.

After what felt like forever, Mutter half turned toward Gus, fingers still funneled around his mouth. His lips moved, but I couldn't hear his words. Gus's field jacket billowed opened, and he wobbled.

The vine I had planted in the back of Gus's jacket rose up like a cobra from a snake charmer's basket. It corkscrewed through the air and floated down to Mutter's lap.

"That was a neat trick you pulled on Gus." Mutter's voice was low, calm sounding, in control. "You were named Vine for good reason." He smiled, showing fine, white teeth.

I shrugged.

"However, Gus told you I said no, yet you did not take my no for an answer." The smile was gone.

Icy fear settled in the small of my back.

I lifted my chin. "I wasn't sure Gus was telling me the truth. He often is full of it."

Mutter gave a sharp laugh. "You can do better than that, Vine."

The way he drew out the name the second time he said it set my teeth on edge. "I don't go by that anymore," I said.

"You don't like nicknames, do you?" Mutter tilted his head. "You think my calling myself Mutter is ridiculous, don't you?"

"I didn't say that." What was he getting at? Who cared about his stupid name?

"It's plain from your reaction when I asked you to call me Mutter." He whispered under his breath, a cross between shushing and mumbling, and then something like "whisk, whisk."

Air gusted around me. Hotel stationary fluttered off the desk by the window.

"This is nothing," Mutter said. "I can do much worse."

"I'm sure of it," I said. I kept my head up.

He went on like he hadn't heard me.

"Someone else gave me the name Mutter." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Long ago. He thought he was being funny, that my power was nothing."

A blast of air slammed Gus off his feet. My chest was tight. I held myself back from helping Gus to his feet. Poor Gus grabbed onto the armrest of the couch and hauled himself up, his face white. "I get it," I said.

Mutter arched an eyebrow. "Do you? The fool who first called me Mutter thought that he had "got it," when they gave me that name, that somehow he knew who I was."

The air grew very still.

"He most certainly did not know." He whispered again, a deep sound. My throat was squeezed shut.

I couldn't breath.

"You think Empowered names are old fashioned, don't you Mathilda?" Mutter asked me. "You don't comprehend their power to shape how others see you." He leaned toward me.

I struggled to suck in air, but my throat stayed closed. My neck muscles strained, but I still couldn't breathe. I didn't want to die.

"How much the right name can make them fear you," Mutter went on, like he was talking about choosing lunch.

I couldn't open my throat.

Gus got to his feet. "Please, Kai, let her go."

Mutter watched me like a snake, his lips pursed.

My chest hurt like hell. The room began to turn red and ripple around me.

"You don't have to imagine what happened to that fool," Mutter said.

I nodded desperately.

He smiled thinly, and whistled. My throat suddenly opened. I exhaled the air trapped in my lungs. Breathed in fresh air in big, shaking gasps.

"I call myself Mutter now. It is a name I wear proudly. Because I know what it means."

I nodded, chest still heaving as I sucked in more air.

His lips curled in a sneer. "Now you almost understand." I nodded. I didn't have to fake that nod, I meant it. He'd nearly killed me, the bastard. I had to be more careful.

He shot Gus a venomous look. "Don't ever call me Kai again."

Gus paled. "No, Mutter, I won't," he said, voice quaking.

Mutter smiled at me. "And you, _Mathilda_ , should embrace your Empowered name." He said Mathilda like it was something he'd found washed up on the beach, weird and rotting.

"Mat. Everyone calls me Mat."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes." My lungs still ached, but his mocking my name annoyed me enough that for an instant I didn't care. " _Really_." My face hardened.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, _Mat_. I still think you should embrace Vine, but that's up to you." He shrugged again. "Now, why didn't you take no for answer?" he asked.

"I figured I could convince you to let me join your group."

Another short bark of laughter. "Interesting choice of words." He looked over at Gus, made a face. "Go take a bath, Blender. You stink of sweaty fear. And get rid of that moldy old jacket of yours."

Gus slunk off without protest, head down, disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

Mutter shook his head fractionally. "I have given him a new jacket, a better one, but he insists on wearing that stinking army relic."

As long as I'd known Gus he'd worn that old army field jacket. "Gus's grandfather died in the Three Days War," I said. He might be a weasel, but everyone who knew him knew why he wore the army field jacket.

Mutter waved a hand dismissively. "Ancient history. Blender needs to live in the present, just like the rest of us."

The sound of running water came from the bathroom.

Mutter nodded. "About time Blender took a bath and washed the stink off." He leaned forward. "So, back to you and your not taking no for an answer. You don't follow instructions very well, do you?"

I swallowed. "I need things to happen now."

"You need money. Gus said you haven't been able to hold a job."

I swallowed again and wiped the sweat from my lips with the back of my hand. The room was suddenly very still. "That's right."

He sighed. "Really, are you surprised? So-called normals distrust us when they aren't afraid of us. They envy us, despise us, but mostly they fear us. That is our advantage. Not our powers. Fear. If others fear you, you can control them."

I listened, and took slow breaths as my heart rate finally slowed. "Yes," I said. Better play along with Mister-likes-to-block-airways.

He leaned back, cupping his hands beneath his chin. He'd be able to make a funnel in no time. I struggled not to shudder.

"I see that you do understand," he said. "Now, as to why you are here. You didn't take no for an answer."

Suddenly he seemed pleased. I couldn't figure him out.

"You do want to join my cell."

"Yes." I tried not to sound too eager.

"Well, joining means passing a test."

"Test?"

"A multi-part test. You've already passed the first part."

"I don't get it." A cold knot formed in my stomach. He had been screwing with me. The whole _you didn't take no for an answer_ routine was probably just another part of his weird "multi-part" test.

"It's simple. You successfully followed Gus to me, just as I wanted you to. Now you need to undertake a little job." The smile edged back around the corners of his mouth.

"What sort of job?"

"There's a lot of criminal trafficking in illegal drugs in this city, as you no doubt are aware." His smile went wide "What matters to us are the shipments to Portland and payment for the shipments by the middlemen."

"You want me to knock off a drug shipment?"

He leaned back on the couch. "Bring back the drugs and the cash."

I laughed, despite the knot of fear in my stomach. "Is that all?"

"It is. If you want to become a member of my organization, you must successfully complete this job." His organization. He meant his cell, I think, but I couldn't read him.

His eyes glittered beneath his dark blond bangs as he waited my response.

I didn't dare hesitate. "I'll do it."

"Excellent."

He gave me details on where the drug distributors were going to meet the local middlemen: on an old abandoned factory along the river in Oregon City, sometime tomorrow or the day after, most likely at night. The timing seemed convenient, awfully convenient. He just happened to have a job ready for me to pull off?

My face must have shown my disbelief, because Mutter tapped his head.

"I have more than just a power, Mathilda. I have three things nearly as useful—a network of information, the ability to always have a plan at the ready, and the intelligence to execute it." His face darkened. "What I require is willingness to carry out those plans on my behalf."

On his behalf. Not the Scourge's. He hadn't mentioned them at all, and I wasn't about to ask him at this point.

"I understand."

He brushed his bangs back. "We will see, won't we?"

The water stopped running.

"Gus is finished," Mutter said. "Let's hope he doesn't stink of fear, at least not for a little while." He smirked. "Gus is easily frightened."

# Chapter 7

The abandoned factory was still deserted.

After twelve hours spent waiting for those drug ganger knuckleheads to show up to make the switch, my car smelled like the inside of a locker room. The vinyl had stains from God only knew what, and I hadn't been able to shower in a couple of days, not since leaving Winterfield's secret dungeon or whatever it was. I was at the point where I hated my own smell. Yeah, it would be nice if Empowered didn't get ripe like everyone else, but we did. Worse, maybe, because of our hyped up metabolism.

The stakeout, or whatever it was I was on, was as boring as hell. Rain pelted the Dasher nonstop. I hunkered down in the back seat and tried to stay warm. I'd forgotten to bring a book and listening to the radio got old. None of the music they played did anything for me.

Finally, after snatching sleep and sneaking off to pee, I resorted to leafing through the ancient Newsweek magazine I'd found moldering under the driver's seat. It was twenty years old, pages yellowed, with a headline screaming something about The Ubermensch, those European Empowered neo-Nazi terrorists who tried to overthrow the Hero Council back in the 1990s. I was a baby when it happened, but like I said, we had to study history in Special Corrections, and that was after Ruth had talked about them when I was young, so it wasn't like I didn't know about it.

The Ubermensch idiots had tried to seize the Hero Council's European headquarters in Berlin and proclaim a new order run by Empowered. A few sanctioned Empowered, French and German mostly, who had joined in that stupid attempt to change the world. Somehow the Hero Council saw it coming, and took out the whole sorry bunch with a combined force from North and South America, Asia, and Europe. The Ubermensch never stood a chance.

I tossed the magazine back under the seat. Ancient history. Empowered served humanity. The Hero Council and the United Nations Charter on Empowered both made a huge deal out of that.

The old Scourge had showed up a couple of years after the Ubermensch got stomped. Supposedly they wanted to free Empowered from servitude, but the whole thing was a crock. If you were a sanctioned, you were in the Hero Council, and you got free housing, spending money, etc. If you were a Forsworn, then yeah, you got a little stipend after signing an agreement and swearing an oath in court that you'd never use your power. I'd tried keeping my power a secret at first. I had just turned fifteen. And then, when I got drunk on it, I went to the local Hero Council office. They checked me out, and said I would need to swear an oath never to use my power. Just like that. They could care less _about_ my power. Didn't even ask if I wanted to join them. Assholes. So, I ran off to join the Renegades. When the Hero Council took down the Renegades, I was the only survivor. Rogues like me got sent to Special Corrections, for life, if they weren't executed for their crimes. I was lucky. I'd been sixteen. Underage for the death penalty. And young enough I earned a chance at parole.

I was bored out of my mind. I fiddled with the radio again, fumbling around until I found a news station.

They interviewed Karl Cooper, the hot new star of the Hero Council North America's so-called "First Team." He'd been dubbed Dynamo, because of his super strength, which meant he could wear powered combat armor that apparently weighed half a ton. Half a freaking ton.

Cooper sounded like one of those All American jocks I used to avoid back in school.

The host asked him a bunch of softball questions, like what was it like to wear all that armor, how did he feel about the fame, _blah blah blah_ until finally asking him what he felt about Empowered criminals. I straightened up in my seat and leaned forward.

"I feel sorry for them." Cooper sounded like he meant it.

"Why?" the host asked. "Is it because they are squandering their gifts?"

Cooper waited a thoughtful few seconds before answering, probably to seem like he was actually considering the question. "Because they are being controlled by their gifts."

The host started to ask Cooper something else but I turned the radio off with a savage twist of the dial.

What a load of crap. I was a criminal because of the dumb-ass choices I'd made. Gus was a criminal because he was a weasel. I was pretty sure Mutter was a criminal because he liked being in charge.

The night wore on. Waiting was as boring as hell. The only thing I had left was remembering things, like my fight with Ruth, and nearly killing Hatcher and his gangers.

No thanks.

The best I could do in the sleep department was cat nap. I'd parked the Dasher near the entrance to the old factory's parking lot. The gangers' vehicles would pass right by my car.

I woke up to my phone vibrating in my coat pocket.

Fumbled it open, put the receiver close to my ear. "Hello?"

Alex. "What's up?" He sounded laid back, like he was calling to see about a movie or something.

I struggled to clear my foggy head. "Not much." I swigged some water from a bottle I'd been rationing to cut down on pee runs. "I'm doing a job as requested by contact in order to prove value as requirement for admittance." The words came out awkwardly, the briefing had stressed the need for phone conversations to be circumspect.

"The man is concerned about elapsed time." The man? Had to be Winterfield. Probably irritated I hadn't made more progress. Too bad. I was back to being a crook, and that means crookish ways, sleeping in late, and focusing on the task at hand, namely pulling off the heist.

"Necessary in order to be accepted."

Silence. Finally, "Got it. How much longer?"

I glanced at my watch. "If not within the next four or five hours, cycle begins again late tomorrow." Listen to me, I sounded like posted rules in Special Corrections. Yuck.

"Okay. Take it easy." Still so casual sounding, just like he should, in case God only knew was listening in. Not that anyone was, but at some point they might be. Better get in the habit now.

"Later." Alex hung up. Hearing his voice had been nice. Now it was back to the sound of the rain spattering the windshield and roof.

I drifted off to sleep again.

I woke to the glare of headlights illuminating the interior of the Dasher. I sat up, blinking, in time to see two black sedans turn into the abandoned factory's parking lot.

Showtime.

I didn't know if it was the dealers or the middlemen. I slipped silently out of the Dasher and ran at a crouch to the side of the abandoned factory.

My watch showed 5:06 AM. The night sky was still black.

By the time I reached the derelict building there was a sharp stitch in my side. I bent over, had to stop to catch my breath.

The factory's windows are six feet off the ground. Below the windows, it was just concrete, scrawled with graffiti. On this side of the building a window had been broken, leaving only a few shards of glass around the edges, like broken teeth. A wild rose bush grew below it, just starting to bud. That was lucky. For me, maybe not so much for the rose. My jaw tightened, I couldn't waste time feeling sorry for a dumb plant.

I ached already. I would be expending a lot of energy. I pulled a stim drink from my pack, a twenty-ounce can of "Voltage." Chugged it.

I put my hand on the plant, prodded it gently with my essence through my outstretched fingers. I felt the rose shiver. I sucked in air, pushed farther into the rose bush, urging the roots to grow deeper, to drink deeply of the nutrients and water in the soil.

The bush trembled, began growing, sending barbed branches up to the window.

My nerves felt like hot wires. Now came the hard part. My muscles screamed as I twisted the rose into something nature had never intended. It shrieked in my mind. I pushed past the pain and reshaped the plant, flattening the thorns and using the material to thicken the branches until they could support my weight.

I blinked away hot tears. There hadn't been a choice.

I pulled myself up onto the bush. Sharp pricks against my flesh. Ouch. I had forgotten about the thorns on the lower branches. I wriggled higher up and then, hand over hand climbed up to the window.

I flashed my penlight down, and saw a concrete ledge maybe four feet below me. I swung from the branch and dropped onto the concrete with a soft thud.

I squatted on the ledge. A low murmur of voices echoed from the far side of the factory floor. Clumps of crabgrass and thistle poked up from cracks in the cement. Flashlights waved around in the darkness on the far side of the factory.

I crept toward the voices, staying low. I urged the weeds to grow and spread until the lines of crabgrass and thistle rose to shoulder height.

I was over halfway across the factory floor when bright white lights flicked on ahead of me. I ducked down into the weeds, shading my eyes.

The two black sedans had parked side by side near the back wall, facing the entrance. Battery-powered lanterns set on the cars' roofs pushed back the darkness with bright white light. One of the sedan's trunks was open, and two figures wrestled a boxy object onto the floor, while more men with automatic weapons watched. All were dressed in sharp business suits and leather shoes. They looked Chinese—must be one of the refugee Tong syndicates.

Right then a white paneled truck drove up to the entrance, turned around, and killed its headlights. The truck's back door rolled up. The interior light was on. A half dozen men were inside, standing around what looked like a money box. Five were tattooed, holding pump shotguns. The sixth was actually a skinny teen boy. His hair was flame red—probably dyed. He kept looking around nervously.

A strikingly handsome Chinese man in a brown suit emerged from one of the sedans and walked into the light. He wasn't carrying a gun. He walked easy, arms at his sides.

"Where is Parker?" he asked the goons in the truck.

The driver's side cab door opened, and a giant dude with a crew cut got out. He had a big, bowie-style knife in a scabbard on his leather belt.

"Greetings, Parker," the handsome Chinese in the brown suit said to the giant guy. His voice was confident, in control.

"Wong. Thought you might make this run."

Wong nodded. "We have your goods, assuming you have our cash."

Parker stepped around to the back of the truck and pointed at the strong box. "We have cash. Fifty thousand." He said it casually, like it was no big deal.

But apparently it was a big deal.

Wong scowled. "One hundred thousand was the agreed on price."

Parker spread his hands. "Hey, the market has gone soft." He wasn't apologetic.

"Don't waste our time. We have other buyers further north who are happy to pay full price. In fact, they are desperate enough it will be more like one hundred and fifty thousand."

Parker drew the bowie knife, ran a finger along its edge, and stared thoughtfully at the edge. "You know us, you don't know them. They'll stab you in the back."

A drop of sweat slithered down my spine. This was about to turn ugly. I'd have to move damn fast.

"Whereas you, Parker, will stab us from the front." Wong spat the words.

"Fifty thousand, Wong. It's a fair offer."

One of Wong's men turned to his boss and said something in Chinese. Wong answered.

Parker cocked his head. "Speak English."

Another of Wong's men said something in Chinese and the others laughed.

"I said English."

Wong smiled. "They agree your price is ridiculous."

I crept closer to the truck, and my skin started to tingle. Another Empowered was here.

Parker turned and jerked a finger at the kid, who jumped down from the truck's gate. The tingling got more intense. The kid was Empowered. Had to be.

"Last chance, Wong. Take the fifty grand and count yourself lucky."

"We are finished here, Parker," Wong replied. More Chinese.

I tensed. This was where things got ugly, really ugly. I'd seen and been in enough fights to know a boiling point when I saw one.

"Not so fast, pal." Parker gestured at the kid. The boy grinned and raised his hands. Flames erupted in the air before him. He shoved his palms forward and the flame turned into a geyser. He aimed at a clump of thistle weeds on the far side of the building. The weeds vanished in a whoosh of flame.

Shit! A flame thrower! Nasty. I hunched down.

Both sides pointed automatic weapons at each other.

"This doesn't have to get any nastier, Wong." Parker's voice was thick with glee.

A Tong guy moved behind the far side of the second sedan, out of the giant's line of sight, next to a metal box. He was across from me, where I hid in the tall grass. A cable ran from the box to connect to what looked like a megaphone in the man's hand. He pointed it at the kid, who idly let fire dance ceilingward from his fingertips.

Parker and his gangers were fixed on Wong and the other Tong members, didn't see the man point the strange weapon at the Empowered teenager.

The air suddenly hummed and my stomach lurched. The megaphone-like weapon was a nullifier, functioning like the cuffs we wore in Special Corrections. Portable nullifiers were outlawed, unless you ran a prison. They took a huge amount of power, and burned out _fast_.

I felt the familiar nausea I'd lived with for five years. The kid needed to run, get out of the nullifier's cone of effect, _now_. Even off to the side like I was, I wanted to vomit. The flames dancing from the kid's hands winked out. He bent over and threw up.

"What the hell!" yelled Parker.

"An advantage," Wong replied. "I suggest you either pay up now or get out of our way."

Parker's face twisted in anger.

One of his men on the far side of the standoff edged slowly toward the nullifier. The damn thing's humming changed to a loud screech, sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard. It was going to burn out soon.

I wondered if Parker was smart enough to know that?

The kid tried to stand up, but failed and dry heaved over the ground.

His goon at the far side palmed a pistol. Wong and his men were still facing Parker and his thugs.

The goon fired a round into the nullifier's power case. Sparks exploded from the case and the damn thing died. The man holding the nullifier gun dropped it, sprang back, drawing a pistol from his coast.

Everything went to hell. Both sides opened up.

Wong took a shotgun blast in the face and fell. The briefcase tumbled from his hands onto the ground.

I needed that case.

Wong's men returned fire with their machine pistols, spraying bullets into the truck. Two of Parker's gangers, riddled with bullets, toppled out the truck's cargo area and sprawled on the ground.

The kid straightened up. He should have run then, gotten away. We Empowered weren't indestructible. But his face turned nasty. He spewed fire from his outstretched hands at two of the Tong, who screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling. The kid followed their movements, spewing more fire on the rolling bodies until the men's shrieking stopped. A Tong guy fired a burst from his machine pistol into the kid, who flopped backwards. Another Tong ganger fired a second burst into the kid's body.

The kid wouldn't be able to heal from that, even if his power hadn't been nullified.

I swallowed. Stupid.

I crouched down and sent vines coiling around the briefcase that lay on the ground beside Wong's body. I pulled the briefcase across the floor by ordering the vines to shrink toward me and sent more vines writhing into the van.

Men were still firing at each other, but Parker saw me.

He charged, knife out. I dropped and spin-kicked his legs. Tripped him. I engulfed him in monster stalks of spiked thistle. He tried to get up, but the thistles' three-inch long super-sized needles pierced him. He screamed, and one of the surviving Tong members shot him.

I ducked back down, commanded vines to pull both cases to me, while men continued killing each other. My head hurt like hell from pushing my power, like someone was driving nails right behind my eyes.

I grabbed the briefcases by their handles, turned, jumped up, and started to sprint. Gun shots banged out behind me, and I heard bullets whizz by, but I was already hidden in the tall grass and shadows.

The firing continued, more sporadic now.

I reached the ledge, flung the briefcases out the open window, hauled myself up and then over the rose branches, thorns tearing my hands. I tried to urge the rose bush to pull its thorns back in but I couldn't. My hands were a bloody mess by the time I reached the window.

I dropped down and rolled, my ankle twisting. Damn it. Hoped I hadn't broken it.

I snatched up the briefcases and ran across the parking lot.

Behind me the firing stopped and the night was suddenly still again, with only the rain's pitter patter, and the echo in my head of the kid's dying scream.

# Chapter 8

My hands still hurt like hell as I drove back to Portland. They had stopped bleeding, but the healing took time, and would take even longer because of the way I'd spent my power.

I couldn't shake images of the firefight out of my head. Bullets ripping through bodies. The kid grinning like a maniac as he burned two men to death. The sounds of their screams. Mutter hadn't said squat about gangers having a nullifier. Where the hell had they gotten such an illegal weapon?

I shuddered at the thought that maybe someone had wanted them to have it.

The nullifier was military grade hardware. You needed special power packs, and the things burned themselves out damn fast. They had short range, and they had to be aimed right at an Empowered to work, and even then, it was tough. Unless you were a stupid kid who was high on his power.

The whole thing had been an idiotic bloodbath.

And the flamethrower kid, maybe he called himself Firestarter, or maybe he had thought of himself as one of those stupid mystical "flame warden" types. Whatever. It didn't matter now. He was dead.

The kid couldn't have been older than sixteen, might have been fifteen. He'd been a tool, just like the rest of Parker's gangers, and the Tong as well. Parker and Wong had been in charge. The rest paid for being tools with their lives.

I got off the Interstate and headed toward a gas station just as the sun was coming up. The gas station had to have a pay phone.

I eased my foot off the accelerator. Just in time. A police car waited at the first side street. I passed him and turned into the gas station's parking lot. A phone booth stood at one corner. I parked the car.

I rubbed my eyes. Exhaustion hung on me like chains. My clothes smelled like roasting meat, but there was no time to change. Mutter had emphasized the need for a prompt check-in, clearly that was part of the test.

The phone booth's glass was spiderwebbed with cracks, while the phone itself was covered in handwritten numbers and graffiti. I lifted the receiver and heard a dial tone.

I dropped in a quarter and dialed the number Mutter had given me. Let it ring three times, then hung up. Dropped the quarter back in, dialed again.

Mutter picked up after the fourth ring.

"Did you accomplish the assignment, Miss Brandt?" Mutter sounded like the cat who had caught the canary.

I swallowed my anger at not being told about the Empowered kid or the nullifier. Maybe Mutter didn't know about either, but I doubted that. It didn't matter now

"I have both," I said.

"Were there any complications?" Apparently he liked to twist the knife.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Are you certain?"

I nearly yelled into the receiver but caught myself in time. "Yes." I hated myself right then. "Yeah, I'm sure. Now where do you want to meet?"

"Columbia Park in Vancouver. At 9AM sharp. Do not be early."

I wasn't sure I heard him right. "Don't be early?" What the hell?

"Exactly. Be there at 9AM."

"Understood." It had to be another part of his crazy test.

I hung up the phone.

No doubt here who was in control.

I didn't want to eat breakfast, but I couldn't let all the death I'd seen stop me from recharging. I couldn't.

I stopped at a greasy spoon and forced myself to eat a stack of pancakes. I snapped at the waitress when she brought bacon along with eggs to go with the pancakes. The smell of meat made me want to throw up. I drank about a gallon of coffee.

Then I headed to Vancouver. Columbia Way Park faced the ancient Interstate Bridge, a big green monster of a bridge. There was a line of homeless people on the sidewalk as I drove up to the park.

A new model Cadillac Monarch with tinted windows sat sideways to the river in the parking lot. It was the other car from last night.

Across the river, a dark cloud dumped rain on North Portland, but here the sky was a patchwork of fluffy white clouds and blue. Thank God for small favors.

A bag lady pushing a shopping cart stuffed with cardboard and plastic blocked the entrance. She looked at the Cadillac. A tinted window rolled down and a long-fingered hand gestured at her. She nodded, then pushed her cart out of the way. Creepy. That had to be Mutter.

I drove into the parking lot. Gus stood on the curb kitty-corner across the lot from where the Cadillac was parked. He pointed at the pavement in front of him.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled under my breath. I could take a hint. I parked the car.

An old guy with a face so wrinkled he looked like a basset hound in a torn parka stared at me from underneath a tree. On the sidewalk another old guy in a rain poncho pushed his own shopping cart piled with cardboard. The homeless convention was here for a reason, which probably spelled Mutter.

Just as I got out of the car the sky got dark and rain began smacking the ground. Geez, that was fast.

I pulled the collar up on my coat.

I ran over to the tree where Gus now waited. The rain fell in hard sheets. Shit, it was really coming down.

I jerked a thumb at the rainstorm. "This Mutter's doing, too?" I tried to sound confident, but fear coiled like a snake at the bottom of my spine. Just how strong was Mutter? His power had a lot of range to be able to pull a thunderstorm over here that fast.

One thing was for sure. No way the Hero Council surveillance blimp was going to spot us during this monsoon. The same went for any local cops. Visibility was down to a dozen yards. The homeless people clustered on the sidewalk ran to the shelter of the trees that lined the road.

"It is." Gus looked past me toward where the Cadillac was parked, raised an arm.

"So, do I pass?" I asked Gus.

Gus nodded at the Cadillac. "Yeah. Sorry, it's the way things are."

"Yeah, I can see that." Freaking obvious.

Damn control freak.

The Cadillac's front passenger door was flung open. A pissed off looking dark-skinned woman about my age wearing cargo pants and a hooded raincoat emerged and ran through the rain to reach me. Her hood fell back from her head about halfway across. Her hair was cut short, shorter than mine, and got thoroughly soaked.

She reached me and scowled.

"You'd better be worth it." Her scowl went to a glare.

"Isn't that up to Mutter?"

"We all get a say." She wiped her hair with her hand and pulled up her hood.

"Good to know," I said. "I like it when I get to have a say."

The scowl deepened. "You aren't in yet."

Great, I already had an enemy. Whatever. I ignored her glare. "Now what?"

Her face got more pissed off looking. "Grab the goods and go to the Caddy, idiot."

I bit back a snarl. I wasn't going to play her game. So I went to my car.

Of course the rain now fell even harder. It was like charging into a waterfall. I yanked the briefcases from my car, sprinted to the Cadillac.

A rear door opened. I slipped inside, slammed the door behind me, and wiped the water from my eyes.

Mutter sat across from me on the wide bench seat. He wore a high collared navy blue suit, not a drop of moisture on that blond mop of his. His skin looked paler than the last time I saw him and sweat beaded his upper lip. Pulling a rainstorm across the river like a yo-yo had to take a lot of you. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy as far as I was concerned.

A creepy looking guy wearing big, plastic-framed glasses with coke-bottle-thick lenses grinned at me over the driver's seat. The thick lenses made his watery eyes look huge.

Mutter nodded at the guy. "Mathilda, this is Lyle."

Lyle didn't say anything, but his grin got wider when Mutter said my name.

"Call me Mat," I said. Lyle didn't say anything. My eyes suddenly itched. Lyle's face went blank, like he was suddenly elsewhere.

"Not now, Lyle," Mutter said.

Lyle shook himself. "Sorry, boss," he said.

I was about to ask what the hell was going on when Keisha yanked open the front passenger side door and jumped inside, slamming the door behind her. She looked even more pissed off, if that were possible, and gave Mutter an ugly glare.

"You could've just told Silco to send her over."

Mutter made a tsk-tsk sound. "Keisha, it's your job to keep an eye on our newest member. I wanted you outside to cover things."

"I could have done that without getting soaked," she growled.

Mutter cocked an eyebrow. "Procedures matter, Keisha." He turned to me, patted the seat between us.

I slid the briefcases over.

"It might have been easier to meet at a house," I said.

Mutter stroked one of the cases. "Meeting here keeps my houses safe."

I opened my jacket, wiggled out of it and wiped my face on the lining.

Keisha pointed at me. "This stiff isn't getting into our group," she said.

Mutter gave her a sour look. "That's not up to you, Steel Witch."

I laughed. "Steel Witch? I would have thought Steel Bitch was more like it."

Keisha brandished a razor blade. "Shut the hell up, newbie, or I'll carve you a new one."

I stared back, not blinking. Tough girl wasn't going to intimidate me.

"Ladies, ladies," Mutter said after the silence had gotten real uncomfortable. "We're all on the same side here."

Loyal creep Lyle nodded.

I forced a shrug. "Whatever."

Keisha gritted her teeth. "Fine." I was already looking at the driver.

Creepy Lyle smirked at me behind his thick lenses. "You control plants, is that it?" The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

"Sure, what of it?"

"Not sure we need someone with such a crap power."

"And you are?" I asked him.

He leered at me. "Call me Peep."

It hit me. That was why my eyes had itched. The creep had been looking out of them. My fingers dug into my jeans. "You're a peeper?" I kept my voice low.

His lip curled. "Yup."

I jabbed a finger at him. "Look through my eyes again, and you won't have any eyes of your own to use." Pond scum Lyle didn't deserve to share that power with Tanya. "You got that, Peep, the Creep?" I asked him.

His leer became an ugly look. "Shut the hell up," he said.

"That's enough, children." Mutter snapped open the case with the money, considered the neatly bundled stacks of cash. He frowned. "Only fifty thousand?"

"That's what they had."

Keisha gave me a nasty grin. "Sure it was," she said.

I needed to lay things out fast. "Things went to hell during the deal because the local gang dropped their payment to half and the Tong said they'd take the shipment elsewhere."

I gave them the details.

"Pretty tall story," Peep the Creep said.

Keisha leaned over the seat to me. "Smells like bullshit."

I ignored her, turned to Mutter. "You didn't say anything about an Empowered being with the locals." I swallowed hard. "Or the Tong carrying a nullifier."

Mutter shrugged. "I didn't know they'd bring Kid Kindle."

The driver and Keisha both gasped.

"That little punk was there?" Keisha shook her head. "We should have let him join us."

Mutter closed the briefcase, opened the second, and examined the wrapped contents.

He snapped the second briefcase closed. "The boy wasn't reliable. Consider what happened."

Keisha glared at me. "Yeah. _If_ you take her word for it. Where would those punk drug runners get a null projector?"

Mutter rubbed his chin for a moment. "An excellent question. They must have better connections than we realized." He looked at me. "You used vines to break the power coupling?"

"Vines can have incredible strength." Sweat ran down my back. It was like being interrogated all over again.

Mutter tapped his fingers together. "So I understand."

Keisha gaped. "That story is a load of bullshit, it..."

Mutter cut her off with a sharp gesture. "That's enough. She pulled off the job I gave her. She is now a member of this cell." His tone was iron.

Keisha crossed her arms, glared out the front window.

Mutter placed the drug case on the floor, opened the one with the money a second time, pulled out a stack of bills and handed it to me.

"Payment for services rendered," he said.

I blinked. Nothing had been said about money.

Coke-bottle lenses looked amazed, and Keisha whipped back around.

"You _paying_ her?"

"I am."

Great, now Keisha had another reason to hate me.

But surprise, she only scowled again and kept her mouth shut.

Mutter leaned toward me. "There is one further condition for being in this cell."

"What's that?"

"If you work for me, you obey. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now leave. We will be in touch."

Just like that, I was dismissed.

The rain had stopped. Thank God for small favors.

Winterfield waited for me in the same booth in the back of the same diner near I-205 we had always met at back when I thought he was just my PO.

He wore the same windbreaker as always. I slid onto the bench across from him. It was weird to be acting out our old roles. I wasn't hungry but he insisted I order some food, so I ordered a salad.

"You ever have a reaction from eating all those vegetables?" He eyed me.

"No." I used to get the same shit about eating greens when I was in the Renegades, and even more in Special Corrections. I wasn't going to tell Winterfield that I was able to wall off my special connection to plants when I ate them. None of his damn business.

My guess was my new "teamie", Keisha, would be just the type to continue the tradition. She seemed as much a hard-edged wiseass as Winterfield. I wasn't going to tell her, either.

Winterfield ignored my lack of reaction to his cutting wit. "The interview was successful, then?"

"I have a job. My supervisor is the micro-manager type. I passed the multi-part test thing he had for me." I gave him the CliffNotes version of what had happened.

"Good."

I couldn't help myself. "Good? That all you have to say? A bunch of people died, including an Empowered, and _oh by the way_ the freaking Tong had a nullifier. What the hell?"

Winterfield sipped his coffee before answering.

"Crooks die. I'm sorry about the kid."

I was too, but the little maniac had been an idiot. "But what about the nullifier?" He needed to get it that the nullifier's being there was important.

"We knew about it."

"Great, and you didn't think to tell me."

He shook his head. "Brandt, keep in mind we must allay suspicion."

"Maybe Mutter's, but he's not the only paranoid here." I mentioned Keisha.

"The Steel Witch," he said. "She has a resentment issue."

"You could say that."

Our food arrived, and I ate my salad.

Winterfield's pocket buzzed and he pulled out a device that looked like a flip phone only with a larger screen. It had to be some sort of Support tech.

His eyes scanned the screen, thumb swiping it at intervals. He made a few presses on the screen, put the device away, and took another swallow of his coffee.

"Your "test" is all over the news," he said matter-of-factly. "Bloodbath on the factory floor," I think the Oregon Journal headline ran.

It felt like someone smacked me upside the head with a fat trout. Great. "I didn't stick around to deal with the bodies."

"Obviously." His voice was acid. He leaned over the table, dropped his voice. "Did you kill any of them?"

"No way. I was lucky to get out alive and with the goods while they were shooting each other. Why would I murder anyone? Besides, if I did, it wouldn't have been murder, it would have been self-defense."

Winterfield put on his Spook glasses. "Hold still." The demon eye lasers appeared and began searching my face.

"Yes, I used my power," I whispered.

"That's not what I'm checking," he said.

So, the rumor was true—Support had some kind of truth teller. I wanted to smack those glasses off his face.

He put the glasses away. "You are going to have to be even more careful. The survivors might have fingered you if we didn't have them."

I froze. "Survivors?"

He nodded. "Two apparently, one local and one from out of town. Both in critical condition at the moment, and neither is conscious."

"What's going to happen to them?"

"They might not survive. Even if they do, the survivors aren't going to see daylight for a long time, if ever." Couldn't have happened to nicer guys as far as I was concerned. He leaned forward. "Remember: stay away from your family, for their safety."

"Understood."

"I mean it. This is important."

"I hear you," I said.

I just didn't plan on listening.

# Chapter 9

I pushed my way inside Ruth's apartment when Ava opened the door, shoving her back.

"We don't want you here!" Ava frowned at me, looking like a five-year-old being forced to eat her peas.

"I don't care." The living room smelled of clove cigarettes. Ava's favorite. "You know you can't smoke in here!"

"What you think doesn't matter anymore." Her mouth quivered but she kept her chin up. I took the ashtray with the still burning clove cigarette and hurled it outside as hard and high as I could. It sailed over the storage building. A moment later there was the satisfying sound of glass shattering on pavement.

"Hey. Hey!" Ava shoved me.

I twisted her arm behind her and forced her up against the wall. "I may not matter to you any more, but Ruth should."

"Mathilda, that's enough."

Ruth stood in the kitchen, pale and trembling, her house coat looking two sizes too big for her.

I let go of Ava.

"She shouldn't be smoking inside."

"You've bigger problems," Ruth said.

Ella came out the hall, rubbing her eyes. Must have been napping.

"What do you want, Mat?" she asked me.

"To help, that's all."

I looked at Ruth. "I don't expect to move back in," I told Ruth.

She wobbled, and Ella helped her into a chair. Her skin seemed even more paper-like than the last time I'd seen her. She started to speak, broke into a long, racking cough.

Ella brought Ruth a glass of water.

"I got a job," I blurted out as she drank.

She waved at me silently, wiped her mouth with her housecoat's sleeve. "Where?"

"For a research company."

"How."

"They wanted an Empowered."

Ruth sat up. "You can't use your power.

I paced the room. "My PO knows. He got me the job."

"Don't lie, Mat."

"I'm not." My face was hot.

"I mean it."

Ruth always knew when I lied, damn it. But I couldn't tell her the truth. I reached into my coat.

The envelope of cash was bulky in my hand.

"What's that?" Ruth asked.

Ella and Ava both stared at envelope. I held it out to Ruth. "It's an advance on my salary."

"Mat, I won't take dirty money."

"It will help you."

"No."

I thrust the envelope at her a second time. "Take it."

She pushed it away. "I won't take dirty money." She crossed her arms.

I stomped toward the door, whirled, and flung the envelope on the floor, twenty dollar bills falling out. I stormed outside and slammed the door behind me.

I ran down the steps. It was dark now, but my heart was in darkness already. I stalked over to the curb next to the Dasher and, head in my hands, fought to muffle my sobs.

I did this for them—why couldn't Ruth see that?

I lost track of time.

Footsteps came toward me. I looked up, and Ella, her eyes red and face tear-streaked, crossed the parking lot to me.

I stood, feeling dizzy and angry and afraid.

"Ava and me helped grandma back to bed," she said, her voice small. "She's getting worse.

No. She couldn't get sicker, not now, not when I was starting to earn the chance to save her. "Bad?" I asked, feeling like an idiot.

Ella nodded, sniffled, and wiped the tears from her nose with the back of her hand.

"Very sick. But she'll probably get better again. She...she has these episodes." Ella sounded like a lost little girl.

I wanted to hug her to me then, tell her big sis would take care of everything. I kept my arms at my sides. "What about Ava?"

"She's mad at you, but she's also scared. Like me."

Damn Winterfield and his deal with the devil.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Ella nodded. "I picked up the money. I'll use it to help pay for things. If Grandma asks, I'll say I have a job, I've been helping her balance her checking account, so it should be okay."

"Thank you."

She put her hand on my arm. "Why did you leave, Mat?"

The outdoor lights flickered on. A sliver of moon hung low over the trees to the west, just below a cloud.

"It's better this way." That was all I could tell her.

I got in the Dasher and drove off.

In Special Corrections my best friend was a woman named Lenore. She was a lifer, but they were nearly all lifers in Special Corrections. Having a shot at parole was exceptional, and it was only because of my age when I went in—sixteen. Lenore had been in for twenty-five years. She never talked about her life outside, and never told me what her power had been. "It doesn't matter," she said when someone brought it up. "What matters is now, and making the most of now."

She had no patience for fools who got "despondent." She didn't care about sad, or even depressed. No, it was despondent that she held up as an example of the mindset that would ruin everything for you. She worked out each day in the yard, always wearing a red knitted cap. It was one she'd knitted herself, unlike that crap machine- made cap Gus wore. Her dark skin would gleam in the San Diego sun as she ran. She didn't grin like an idiot at the endorphins like some muscleheads inside did. She was serene. When she got angry, she didn't holler and shout. Her anger was like quiet thunder.

She'd have no patience at all for the despondency squeezing my heart now. She'd probably tell me despondency could get me killed, and then how could I make up for screwing up all those years ago? I'd shout about how this sucked and wasn't fair, I was trying to help Ruth and the twins, and they had locked the door on me.

She'd just shake her head and tell me I was being a fool.

I was royally pissed off from the imaginary argument in my head by the time I got back to my new place in North Portland.

I made the arbor vitae's outer branches pull back fast, too fast. The trees scream in my head went on and on, even after I gently urged it to close behind me. I stood there in the backyard, listening to the screaming until it finally died away. My damn anger wrecked everything.

On the back porch I fumbled with my key in the dark and dropped it. I bent over to pick it up and the deadbolt drew back. I stumbled and fell on my butt, then jumped to my feet, heart racing. Raised my fists.

The door opened and a shadowy figure stood there. I could just make out a hoodie. I cocked my right arm back to take a swing.

"Mat, it's me!" Hoodie whispered.

I knew that voice.

Alex.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said. "I heard you drop your keys and thought I'd help."

Yeah, help get himself decked.

We went inside. He led me through the kitchen to the living room, turned on one of the battery lamps. We sat down, him cross-legged, me with my knees pulled up. "Why are you here?" I asked, once we were both seated. It was too much to hope I'd be able to have privacy when I needed it.

"Are you always this blunt?" Alex asked. Was that disappointment in his voice? He pulled his hoodie back. He had a thick five o'clock shadow. "I'm checking up on you."

I rubbed my hands on my pants. "Isn't that Winterfield's job?"

He smiled. "It's both our jobs."

Of course it was. He'd given me his cell phone number, and I had it on mine. Calling Winterfield meant doing the pay phone tango.

"Besides," he added, "I'm easier going."

That made me laugh. "True." I grew serious again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We need to keep things on a need-to-know basis. You didn't need to know until now."

I pushed myself up, loomed over him. "Oh, I see how it is. You wanted to make sure I was trustworthy first."

He sat there and watched me, his eyes half in shadow. "Is that what you think?'

I began pacing. "Yes."

"Well, you should have been back here hours ago. I've been waiting since 2pm."

"I had to meet with Winterfield."

He gave me a sour look. "Thanks, I knew that. But where were you afterwards?"

"I had to think."

He shook his head. "For five hours? You must be tired. You should have come back here sooner to rest."

"I think I know when I need sleep."

"Oh really? Look at yourself now."

I wanted to hit him. Instead, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and kept pacing. "What of it?"

"You visited Ruth and the twins, didn't you?"

This shouldn't be any of his business. Or Support's. "Yes."

"You can't do that, remember? It's too risky."

"I won't be going back," I said. My heart sank. Back in Special Corrections, Lenore had been right about despondency being the enemy, but how could I help but feel alone now?

He helped me sit down on the futon, listened while I slowly told him what had happened.

Okay, so Alex is Support, but I had to talk to someone. Right now, a sympathetic, concerned, and incidentally handsome guy was the only one I could talk to. My only other friends were plants, and that was a pretty one-sided relationship

I rocked back and forth as I talked to him. I thought I heard the house creak, but I wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

Alex looked around, eyes wide. "What was that?"

The world was branches, roots, growing, pulling water from the earth. I tasted the sweet tang of earth.

"Mat, stop it."

The branches stretched, aching for sunlight, but it was night. I willed them to stretch higher.

A hand slapped my face.

I blinked. I was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

Alex knelt beside me. "You all right?"

I sat up, rubbed my jaw. "You hit me." Still smarted, too. "You pack a mean right slap."

He chuckled. "Sorry, but you were circling."

"What?" I had no idea what that meant.

"Caught in a looping state with your power."

I gave him a hard look. "I was?" I twisted my hands. Funny. I was the Empowered one, but Alex, the normal, knew more about being an Empowered than me.

He nodded. "Seeing your family must have been wrenching."

I shrugged. "Yeah." I couldn't stay put. I started pacing. The house felt like a tomb. The air was stuffy. Alex stood silently and watched me walk back and forth. He must have thought I was nuts.

I went into the kitchen. And gasped. Outside, a wall of branches pressed against the window. The arbor vitae had grown into a twisted monster freak.

I had done that. Somehow my anger had spurred its growth without me consciously trying.

"Wow." Alex stood beside me, hoody pulled up again. "You said you weren't powerful, but man." He shook his head. "I'm impressed.

"I didn't exactly plan this." My angry subconscious had done it.

Alex peered out the window. "The yard is completely hidden. You know, you can't leave the trees like this."

"Gee, you think?"

"Yeah, I think," he retorted.

"Sorry." Actually, Alex was being pretty damn nice about the whole thing. Winterfield would have torn me a few new orifices for doing this."

I closed my eyes, imagined the arbor vitae shrinking. The trees shuddered and moaned. Began to scream. Eyes still shut, I worked with my hands, shaping the power, fighting to ease the branches back.

I opened my eyes. The bushes were smaller, but not as small as they had been

"I guess that will have to do," I said. My whole body ached. I looked at Alex, who watched me with obvious worry.

"I'll live," I said. "I don't suppose you brought some wine? I could sure use a drink." I'd had enough of dealing with my power for the day.

He raised an eyebrow. "Winterfield doesn't authorize alcohol consumption," he said.

"I can dream, can't I?"

He left the kitchen, came back a minute or two later with a bottle of red wine, plastic cups and a corkscrew. Alex grinned. "Not that I always listen to him."

I smiled back at him. He opened the bottle, poured us each a glass.

I took a swallow and closed my eyes. God, but I'd needed that. We drank in silence. When I'd finished my glass, I put it down and looked at him. "So, what's your deal?"

Alex looked surprised at the question. "Not sure what you are asking."

"Are you really just Winterfield's partner, or more like his apprentice?

He laughed. "Yes, I'm really his partner." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sure, I'm junior to him. That means I get to play undercover cop and dress up in the fine attire you see me in."

I laughed, really laughed.

We sat at the table and ate insta-meal dinners by candlelight. I chuckled at his stories from his time in the International Peacekeeping Force in Russia and his run-ins with the mafia there. I so needed this.

I wondered what the real reason he was here tonight was.

I didn't care. I was happy he was.

# Chapter 10

Two days later, in the morning, my phone rang three times, then stopped.

Mutter's signal.

He and Winterfield both had a thing about phone protocol. Screwy and irritating.

I drove to the nearest pay phone, and called the number Mutter had given me, using the same three rings. Hung up. Then called again. Stupid, but what choice did I have?

Mutter picked up on the fifth ring. "Time to go to work," he said.

I swear I could hear the smug smile in his voice.

The address he gave me turned out to be an old garage in a canyon in Southeast where trains dropped off and picked up freight.

The building looked freshly painted, dark green. Metal shades covered the windows, and the garage doors were down. The place seemed deserted.

As I walked up, a side door was flung open and Keisha stomped outside. She gave me the stink eye. She was dressed all in brown leather: jacket, pants, boots. The jacket was zipped up all the way.

I crossed my arms. "Oh, did you open the door for me? Thanks!" I made sure my sarcasm was obvious. With a hard-ass like Keisha, it's always good to go with obvious.

Her eyes narrowed. "Very funny, bitch." She jerked her head toward the open door. "Inside."

I gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Gee thanks, teamie, I never would have guessed that's what you intended. Thanks for spelling it out for poor little me."

She flicked her fingers together and a pair of razor blades floated out of her jacket's sleeve. The polished steel and sharp edges glinted. A four-inch steel nail floated up from the ground, joined by half-dozen shorter, tack nails, and the collection began to spin around itself, like a serial killer's mobile.

"I won't kick your ass if you get out of line," she said. The mobile spun faster. "I'll cut your ass."

If we were inside Special Corrections, we'd have to have a stare down. When someone is out to rule you, you either stand up for yourself or buckle under and let the other woman run you.

If we had been in Special Corrections, our powers wouldn't matter. We'd be wearing null cuffs, and our powers would be blocked.

But we were outside.

Spiky weeds grew up from the bare earth beside the garage. The weeds quivered, all potential, spikes ready to grow. I could surround Keisha in an embrace of green, a living version one of those medieval iron maiden torture devices, and she'd scream out how sorry she was.

I let out a slow breath. I had to stay calm.

"I'm not going to play," I told her, and walked into the garage. Razor blades and nails spun faster as I passed, but I didn't flinch. Couldn't back down. I went inside

The Cadillac Monarch was parked inside the garage.

Gorilla shelving lined both walls, filled with plastic storage bins. The back wall had racks of power tools and two work benches.

Peep leaned against one of the benches. I laughed when I saw him. He had a long black duster coat, open over black jeans and a black silk shirt. His blond hair was slicked back. He looked like a scarecrow trying to be stylish. His thick lenses gleamed in the harsh white light from the overhead fluorescents. Way too much black for his complexion. Made him look like a cartoon Western villain.

He frowned, but kept his mouth shut.

Gus appeared next to me. He was dressed in a new parka, olive with white fur lining the hood, clean cargo pants, red woolen lumberjack shirt and work boots. Mutter had made him clean up big time.

He looked like a nervous rabbit, which is to say, practically panic stricken.

Mutter stepped out of the Cadillac. His high-collared, tailored black suit must have cost a fortune.

The door slammed behind me. Keisha came up beside me, close, trying to intimidate me by getting into my space. We glared at each other, almost nose to nose.

"Ladies, ladies," Mutter said. "Please."

I shrugged. Keisha ground her boot against the concrete.

"That's better," Mutter purred. "This is an important day." He snapped his fingers. Must have been a cue for Peep, because he rolled a workbench over beside Mutter, then retrieved a slim briefcase from the Cadillac and laid it on the bench.

Mutter snapped open the slim briefcase with flourish, and pulled out a hand-drawn map of a building interior.

He pulled out a telescoping pointer and tapped the map. "This is Sylvan Investments. They occupy floors six through eight of the Lansing building on 4th in downtown. However, Sylvan is just a cover. The office space is actually utilized covertly by Support."

Keisha didn't look happy. "We're going after a Support installation? That's a good way to wind up dead."

Peep took off his glasses and polished the thick lenses with a silk handkerchief. "There's no money in knocking off Support operations."

Mutter tapped the center of the map, middle floor, the one labeled Seventh. "There is in this case."

That got everyone's attention. We all leaned forward to get a better look

"What kind of money?" Keisha asked. "Cash?"

Mutter shook his head.

"Bullion?" Peep asked. He pointed on the map to a room with thicker walls than the rest. "That looks like a strongroom."

"It's not."

"Then what is it?" Keisha's exasperation was obvious.

Mutter reminded me of a cat toying with a mouse, in this case, four mice. He was enjoying the hell out of taking the long way around to an explanation.

"Records worth more than millions. This is an archive, not a strongbox."

Keisha's eyes narrowed. "You want us to break into a secret library and steal some documents?"

"That's precisely want I want you to accomplish."

"Shit."

She took the word right out of my mouth. So I kept it shut. One angry woman was enough here. I agreed with Keisha, but Mutter was in charge, and besides, this was all about bringing him down. Couldn't take my eyes off that prize.

"These rare documents?" Peep asked. He put his glasses back on, making him look like a very myopic fish.

"No."

"Then why bother?" Keisha demanded.

"Because we have been told they are important and needed."

Peep blinked, his wide-eyed expression freakishly exaggerated behind the distorted glasses he wore. "The Inner Circle wants them?"

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."

"Shit, shit, shit." Keisha shook her head and turned to Peep. "It's like I always say, Peep Creep, we're mushrooms. Fed shit and kept in the dark." It felt weird to agree with my new archenemy, but she was right.

"Why we are doing this is on a need-to-know basis," replied Mutter. God, I hated that expression.

"And we don't need to know." Keisha's voice was bitter. I felt another pang of sympathy for her.

Mutter shrugged.

Just like that, the argument ended before it had really begun.

"Now, let's turn to the plan." He pulled an index card from his pocket, which had neat handwriting in a column—a list.

"Keisha and Lyle will be computer technicians, bringing some replacement drives to the company's server room on the seventh floor. Gus will be an American Package Delivery courier." He looked at me, his lips in a slight smirk. "Mathilda will be delivering plants."

Very funny.

He winked at me. "Miniature palms and climbing ivy for office space on the seventh."

"Do the elevators run all the way to the eighth?"

"In fact they do. Keisha and Lyle will be able to get into the archive through a back door in the server room."

"Won't that door be locked?" Keisha snapped.

Mutter brandished a keycard. "Keys unlock doors."

"What's the security look like?" I asked him. This was sounding way too straightforward. Almost boring is how easy he made it sound.

"There is uniformed building security, during the day. Three to five personnel, depending upon lunch breaks, etcetera."

Apparently Keisha wasn't done being annoyed with the plan. "But what about Support people? You can't tell me there won't be black suits there?"

Keisha had a point. It seemed unlikely that there wouldn't be Support agents onsite. After all, it was a Support office.

Worse, I had a dilemma. Since the target was Support, I should tell Winterfield. But if I did and he changed things up, Mutter might get suspicious.

"There are no Support Agents on site," Mutter said.

"Never?" Peep asked.

"I never say never, but not normally."

That did it. I had to tell Winterfield. If I got the opportunity.

Keisha walked around the workbench and poked a finger in my face. "What about you? You think there are Support agents?"

"If the boss says there aren't, there aren't." I shrugged.

"Aren't you little miss kiss-up." She spat on the floor and looked up at Mutter. "You sure about this?"

"The intel is reliable."

She crossed her arms, obviously unhappy but obviously unwilling to cross Mutter.

Mutter had mentioned nothing about his own role in this job. "What will you be doing?" I asked him.

"I will not be directly involved."

He said it casually, like he was telling you he'll meet you at the theater rather than catch coffee with you beforehand.

"Need to know, right?" I said to him. I did my best to sound amused.

Keisha spat again. "Kiss-up."

Mutter ignored her outburst and went back to explaining his master plan.

After he finished, we split up. Someone followed me outside. Keisha.

"Kiss-up!" She called from behind me.

I ignored her and kept walking toward the Dasher. I had to call Winterfield as soon as possible. The gravel crunched loudly behind me. I tried to keep my breath slow and regular. Couldn't get angry. Especially not now.

"I'm talking to you, Kiss-up."

I whirled around. Balled my fists. "All right, what is it?"

She got right up into my face and jabbed a finger at me. That damn finger jabbing.

"What was that bullshit back inside?" she demanded. Her nostrils flared.

"Just listening to the man."

She leaned even closer, her breath hot on my face. "Listen to this then, bitch. You'd better not screw this up. I got my eyes on you."

It would be so easy to gut punch her right there. See her on the ground, before she could work her steel voodoo, summon up blackberry vines to pin her arms, lash her face. I heard a whisper in the weeds behind me. Took a deep breath and forced the anger down. "I'll do my job."

"You'd better, Kiss-up. I will be keeping my eyes on _you_."

I shoved her. I didn't think it was very hard but she stumbled and fell on her ass.

I loomed over her. "Watch yourself, _bitch_."

She scrambled up and threw herself at me. We grappled. She punched me in the side of the head and my ears rang like a bell. I tripped her but she hung on and together we smacked the ground hard. Damn she was strong. She tried to gouge my eyes. I ducked my head and punched her in the kidneys. She yelled then, and I rolled on top of her, raised my fist to smash her face. I was going to end this.

The air went boom. Keisha and I were flattened against the gravel. The rocks dug into my butt and back.

"That is enough!" Mutter's voice was a scorching whisper in my ears. "STOP NOW."

I pulled away from Keisha. Got up.

Keisha also got to her feet and started to lunge toward me again. She stopped and grabbed her throat. She gasped but no air came out. Mutter was doing his vicious air blockage trick. Her eyes bulged. My stomach twisted. A moment ago I had wanted to kill her, but now I felt badly for her.

Then she drew a ragged breath and doubled over. Took more ragged breaths.

Mutter strode up to us, radiating ice-cold anger.

"Idiots! Control yourselves."

His anger actually made me look away. I scuffed my shoes in the dirt.

"I don't trust her," Keisha said.

"But I do," Mutter said. And that must be good enough for you." I looked up. He was calm, collected now, in control.

She nodded, chest still heaving.

He looked at me, pursed his lips. "I imagine you were provoked, but nonetheless, fighting in my cell is off-limits."

"Yes, sir." I didn't have to fake my agreement.

"Good." His lips curved into a nasty smile. "Never forget this is _my_ cell."

I watched Keisha follow Mutter back into the garage like a whipped puppy. The side door closed. I stood there for a long while, trying to calm down, blood roaring in my ears. Mutter was a cold-blooded, sadistic control freak who probably wouldn't bat an eye when it came to killing someone. Including one of us. What the hell had I wound up in?

# Chapter 11

I was cold and wet, thanks to the misting rain, as I huddled against the wall-mounted pay phone at the Night&Day Mart off 82nd avenue. Why were phone booths so freaking rare now? This was all thanks to Winterfield and his damn phone security "protocol." I could be dry and warm in my car right now if he would let me use my cell phone, but no. Had to be by the book. His book.

The connection crackled with static. "Say again," Winterfield ordered.

"It's the company store," I repeated, using the old-fashioned term he'd given me to refer to Support. "Did you get that?" I hated pay phones.

I wanted to meet with him in person, but Winterfield nixed the idea. Wouldn't say why, but I got the message anyway. Clearly stuff was on a need-to-know basis, and I didn't need to know. Just like Mutter. Ironic, huh?

"We got it," Winterfield answered after a long pause. "No change to the plan. No alterations. Your manager has the situation in hand."

I wanted to know what Winterfield thought the Scourge was up to, but no way he'd tell me over the phone.

"Okay." Being a mushroom sucked.

"Check-in after your visit, when you can."

"Will do." I hung up.

A police cruiser rolled toward me on Foster. The last thing I wanted was to have to talk with the cops. I didn't want any attention from the police. Who knew, maybe some neighbor had said something to the cops about me being the last one to see Hatcher and his goons.

I ducked into an alley between the Night&Day and an adult video store. Pulled up my hoodie. I suddenly wanted to wear stylish clothes, like Keisha, and not skulk around in ex-con duds. I heard a car door open behind me, the crackle of a radio.

"Miss!" The officer's voice was a deep baritone. "I need to speak with you." Why, why now, did some random cop decide I looked suspicious?

I ran past a dumpster and around the corner to the rear of the adult video store.

A graveled lot lay behind the video store with a wooden fence on the far side that was leaning over from the weight of overgrown bushes. The door to the store was right beside me. I opened it, reaching out with my sense to the bushes, made them tremble and thrash against the fence. It swayed.

I ducked inside the video store, praying the cop would think I'd vaulted over the fence.

The room was lit by a sparkling light from a disco ball suspended from the ceiling. Spindle racks filled with porn discs stood in front of me. Great. Last place I wanted to wind up in. Off to one side was a counter with a cash register and a guy in a pork pie hat.

"Can I help you, miss?" Pork Pie Hat asked, brightening when he saw me. I swear he stood up straighter.

"Just browsing," I blurted. I know, _lame_. The guy gave me the once over with his eyes. My jaw tightened. I didn't have time to deal with perverts. Too bad.

I went past an interior wall and discovered a little stage where a skinny, pale woman gyrated against a pole while a dozen or so men sat in folding chairs and drooled at her.

Yuck.

The front entrance had an emergency exit sign over it with a crash bar below a sign on the door that said "alarm will sound." Trust an adult video place to have the front entrance in the back, and the emergency exit facing the street. Didn't want to scare the neighbors. Or let them get a good look at the customers.

Crap.

I circled the stage. A grimy curtain hid the far end of the room. I hesitated. The curtain parted, and a young woman gestured at me. I slipped inside, and she closed the curtain behind me.

It was a dressing area with lockers and two old antique bureaus with mirrors. It smelled like clove cigarettes, reminding me of Ava. God, I did not want her to wind up in a place like this.

The woman's hair was dyed blue. She had high cheekbones covered with lots of sparkly makeup.

She leaned in confidentially. "You need a back way out of here?"

"Uh, how did you know?"

She pointed at a TV monitor mounted on a wall behind me, screen split into three views. The top one showed Foster Road, and the police bureau cruiser parked at the curb, the lower left showed the little lot behind the store. The police officer jumped down from the fence and strode toward the back door, face set in an angry line. He looked like the arresting type. He opened the door and disappeared from camera view.

"Yeah, I need a way out, fast."

She pointed at the lower right camera view on the monitor. It showed another alley, the opposite side of the building from the Night&Day.

"Employee exit," she said.

"Thank you!"

"No problem." She flashed me a sympathetic grin.

I went out the employee entrance. My car was parked in the little parking lot on the far side of the Night&Day. Chances were the cop would spot me before I could drive off.

I ran down Foster to another side street and into a neighborhood. I needed to hide for a little while.

A deserted lot filled with chest-high grass waited for me. Was I always going to have to hide in the weeds?

Beggars couldn't be choosers, so I slipped into the wet grass, and sat cross-legged. The grass moaned in my mind, crying out from where I'd trampled it.

My stomach was empty and my head ached, but I sent vitality into the grass, helping it stand tall again, growing it even taller than it had been before, until I was surrounded by a wall of jade green grass.

My head pounded and I closed my eyes. The tall, tall grass sang in my mind, content, and I let myself get lost its song.

The next day the cell assembled at the garage. A bright crimson American Package Delivery truck with the box and arrow logo was parked on 17th while a white paneled van was parked alongside the garage. Inside Mutter, wearing a familiar-looking cobalt blue jumpsuit, stood beside a black van with tinted windows. The side door was open. Computer equipment lined the interior.

I spotted another figure in the familiar-looking cobalt blue jumpsuit walking inside the van from the driver's compartment. The head was hidden inside a close-fitting blue helmet with a reflective visor. From the way the hips waggled, I guessed incognito person was a woman.

Then I finally noticed the stylized gold HC on the left breasts of both jumpsuits.

Damn. No wonder the jumpsuits looked familiar. They were Hero Council uniforms.

"Are you ready for the big day, Mathilda?" Mutter asked.

"Uh, sure." I couldn't tear my eyes off the uniforms.

"You will be eating flies if you keep your mouth open like that."

I shut my gaping mouth. Hero Council jumpsuits made me shudder.

I shook myself. "Who's that?" I nodded at incognito person, who now sat at a computer station inside the van, back to me.

"Someone you haven't met yet." Mutter gave a Cheshire cat smile. Yeah, yeah. This was on a need-to-know basis, and once again I didn't need to know.

Just then Keisha and Peep entered the garage through the side door. Keisha's mouth shot open, just like mine must have when I realized Mutter and his secret friend wore HC uniforms.

"What are you doing in those?" Keisha demanded.

"Insurance," Mutter said.

"They'll kill you for wearing those," Peep said drily.

Gus looked scared shitless. His face gleamed with sweat and he kept wiping it with a rag.

Peep was right of course—the UN charter of 1965 mandated the death penalty for both non-sanctioned Empowered and normals caught wearing the uniform of the Hero Council. The prohibition against wearing an official Hero Council uniform had been drummed into our heads in Special Corrections Empowered Codes class, which all prisoners took as part of the Rehabilitation curriculum, even though nearly all the convicts were lifers.

" _Wearing Hero Blue will get you killed_ ," went the slogan.

"We will not be caught." Mutter's certitude felt like gravity. It conveyed absolute confidence.

Keisha looked like she thought this was a very bad idea but said nothing. I also kept my mouth shut.

It was weird to agree on anything with Keisha.

Peep just listened, wearing his tech support outfit—gray slacks, slip-on shoes, white shirt, portable computer in a sling case. Keisha was dressed in a gray skirt, sensible shoes, white shirt. She carried another portable computer.

Gus wore a red American Package Delivery uniform and lace-up shoes. His hair looked combed beneath the red baseball cap he wore. The last person I'd ever expected to see in an APD uniform.

Mutter tapped the gold HC symbol on his breast. "These jumpsuits give us the proverbial ace in the hole. In all likelihood, they will not be required," said Mutter confidently. His voice seemed deeper, like it was coming from the ground rather than through the air.

He waved us over to the van. We stood in a semi-circle around the van's open door. His mystery driver sat at the computer station inside the van, facing us, still helmeted, face hidden behind the opaque visor. I saw my reflection shining faintly in the visor.

Mutter's voice changed, now a secret whisper right beside me. The air tickled the inside of my ear like a lover's tongue. I shuddered, and I saw Keisha's jaw tighten. The whisper routine must be to protect against any bugging devices that might be listening in, or it could be just because Mutter enjoyed making us uncomfortable.

"Steel Witch and Peep, you will enter the lobby of the building, check in with building security, presenting your ID badges as required. You will then proceed to the seventh floor. Once there, you will head to the server room."

Gus looked like he wanted to disappear into the surroundings as Mutter turned to him. "Gus, you will deploy the Scrambler at the front security desk, using your blending ability. You will then monitor the lobby."

Mutter pointed at me. "Mathilda, your job is straightforward. Take the plants up to the seventh floor and wait. You are the reserve, to go into action if I tell you to. Or if Gus tells you of a problem and you need to intervene. Obviously, you are carrying plants for a reason—your power." Keisha snickered at this. I bristled, but kept my eyes on Mutter. She could laugh all she wanted. If things went south, she'd be glad I was there. If I didn't hang her out to dry. Mutter kept on going. "I'll be monitoring the operation nearby. Each of you will be issued military-grade CB radios. If interference is needed, Mathilda will take action."

Keisha glared at me. "I don't trust you." She growled the words.

"You don't have to trust her," Mutter said. "You only have to follow my orders."

Keisha's lips curled into a nasty sneer. "I'll kill her if she screws up."

"Anyone who fails to obey my instructions will die," Mutter said. He pinched his fingers together, muttered something.

Keisha clutched her ears.

"Pain," Mutter said to the rest of us, "can come in many different forms."

His lips twisted back in a sadistic smile, like he was pulling the wings off a fly and enjoying it.

Keisha rocked back and forth, and sweat ran down her face.

Mutter lowered his fingers, closed his mouth.

She wiped tears from her eyes.

"You understand, don't you?" Mutter asked her.

"Yes," Keisha gasped. "I do."

His grin became a satisfied smile.

I sat in the delivery van, stuck in a traffic jam on the Nixon Parkway just past the Ross Island Bridge exit and tried not to think of that little scene back in the garage. Past the waterfront, wind whipped up waves on the Willamette River. The office buildings on my left were a mixture of old brick and, newer, higher, glass and steel towers.

The woven poly-carbide flex armor beneath my white painter style overalls itched against my skin. It felt like I'd gained ten pounds and was bloated to boot.

I glanced at the dashboard clock. Damn it. I was five minutes behind schedule already. What was the delay?

I craned my neck to see what the holdup was, and spotted a Rose City Transit Bus blocking the left lane up ahead. Stalled.

Crap. Another five minutes to pass it, crawling down Nixon parkway. A statue of President Richard M. Nixon stood on the waterfront facing the Parkway. Pigeons sat on the statue's shoulders and head. The big bronze plaque at the statue's feet said "President, Chief Justice, and Savior of the World."

President Nixon had led the nation during and after the Three Days War from Colorado Springs after Washington D.C. had been destroyed by a Soviet nuke fired from Cuba. Congress had been annihilated along with the capitol. When the old CIA sponsored a rebel attack on a Soviet nuclear missile site in Cuba, the Soviet commander there panicked and fired nukes. The war would have widened but President Nixon, counseled by Doctor Prometheus, held off, even when the Soviets launched a larger strike. The new U.S. defense network Prometheus had created stopped nearly all of the follow-on missiles. If nuclear war had broken out in Europe between the old United Kingdom and the Soviet Union, we would be living in a very different world today.

Nixon went on to become Supreme Court Chief Justice, dying in 1994.

I knew all this because of Ruth, and because U.S. History was required in Special Corrections.

Finally, the line of traffic passed the stalled bus and I swerved into the left-hand turn lane and the intersection at Nixon and Agnew. Another endless wait for the light to cycle, then onto Agnew and toward Fourth.

Keisha and Peep would have arrived at the Lansing Building by now, with Gus close behind as an APD man in green. I turned onto Fourth at last, but the street ahead was blocked off by a city crew working on the sewer drain. Great. Why today of all days?

I made a quick U-turn and drove down a side street, past where Mutter said he would be stationed, but his black van was not there. I suppose he could have chosen a different street, but he had been very specific.

I finally found a loading zone a block away from the Lansing Building.

All that time there was no sign of Mutter's van. Strange. Mutter had stressed that his van would be just two blocks away from the Lansing Building. But it wasn't.

I parked, loaded miniature palms, climbing ivy, and bonsai trees onto a dolly. Headed to the front of the Lansing building. Ten minutes late.

Gus would have deployed the Scrambler by now. The building would be isolated, the computers offline, the guards running around like chickens with their heads cut off. It would be chaos.

But that's not what I found when I entered. It looked like business as usual.

An older man in a navy blue suit held open a door for me. I pushed the dolly past him.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

The lobby's floor was marble. The palm trees in the big wooden planters on either side of the entrance were fake.

Ahead was the security desk. Two guards waited there, looking bored.

If the Scrambler had gone off they would have been anything but bored. Why hadn't it?

No sign of Gus.

I pushed my cart to the elevator, pressed the button for the seventh floor.

Security was way more lax than we'd expected. I thought there would be cameras all over the place, not just one mounted on the wall facing the elevator.

I pushed the cart inside the elevator and turned around.

A guy in a business suit tried to join me. "Sorry," I told him, "no room."

He gave me an annoyed look but didn't try to barge in. The doors closed and the elevator began to climb.

My thoughts raced around in circles. Why hadn't the Scrambler gone off? What had happened to Gus? What was happening with Keisha and Peep? For that matter, why had Mutter sent Peep, a peeper, along with Keisha instead of me or Gus? It made little sense.

Mushrooms. Mutter treated us as mushrooms.

At last the elevator reached the seventh floor. Another standard office level, nothing special.

I pushed my cart down the long hall, reaching the end to turn into a short corridor which ended at double doors. The archive.

Just as I reached the doors my radio buzzed.

"Mat!" Gus's voice was frantic. "The police are here! I can't reach Keisha or Peep."

Shit. Funny how it's always hurry up and wait until things go pear-shaped, and then it's hurry like hell.

"How many?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "There's a bunch of police cars outside, and an armored SWAT van."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The area was deserted. The stairs were on my right, the elevators my left. I had to haul ass.

I shoved palm trees in planters in front of the elevators and the stairwell door. The climbing ivy was on racks. I hesitated, then flung the racks, one by one, from the cart onto the floor. The ivy cried out in my mind. The smell of green, living plants warred with the heavy, antiseptic smell of the hallway.

The elevators had all gone down to the 1st floor. Two were now coming back up.

I wrenched at the plants with my power, pushing past their pain and fear. I trembled. In the past when I had sensed a plant's fear, it had always been a very distant thing. Not this time. It felt like a chasm had opened up in my stomach.

I pushed past the fear, pushed my power harder until palm trees and bonsai, now huge, filled the space in front of me. Ivy snaked from tree to tree, from palm fronds to bonsai branches until a thick mass of vines clogged the hall. The air was now thick with the smell of jungle.

I bent over, breathing hard. I needed to rest, but there was no time.

I staggered into the archive. Keisha was yanking open a filing drawer at the far end, a dozen others were open, their contents dumped on the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Shut up, bitch," she yelled at me.

"There's not time for that," I growled back at her, but she continued dumping filing drawers, frantic. She was acting like a panicked idiot.

Peep wasn't in the room. "Where's Peep?"

"The damn computer room," she yelled without looking at me.

I staggered to the blue door marked "Computer Closet." Banged on it.

The door opened. Peep was a disheveled mess, drenched in sweat, wire cutters in his hand. He stood in front of an open electrical panel, a tangle of cut cables and cut wires hanging out. He looked at me when I entered, his eyes wide with fear.

"I don't know how to shut down the security system." No kidding. Support wouldn't make it that easy—that panel might have been a dummy system for all I knew.

"We have to go," I told him. "The police are storming this floor."

"I don't understand," Peep said. "The Scrambler should have knocked out communications, prevented the alarm from sounding." He looked back at the open panel. "None of these wires seem to do anything.

"We have to get out of here." I grabbed his arm, pulled him after me into the archive room.

Keisha slammed a filing drawer hard. "Where the hell is it?"

Peep was still going on about the Scrambler not going off.

Keisha made a face. "Asshole probably panicked."

I hadn't thought of that. If Gus had panicked—damn it. Mutter would kill him, if Keisha didn't first.

"You found the files yet?" Peep said, panicking. Great, now he was losing it.

"Does it look like I found it, fool?" Keisha shouted. Files were scattered all over the floor.

"Mutter said it had a red binder," I said.

"Damn it, I forgot!" Keisha raised her arms, gestured, and a file drawer fragmented into shards. She hurled the shards into another cabinet, pulled her hands toward her chest, and that cabinet exploded in a shower of metal and paper. Peep and I ducked, shielding our faces with our arms. Hot steam from the shattered metal cabinets filled the room.

"This isn't going to help!" I yelled. She ignored me.

I grabbed Peep's arm. "Pull the index drive." That was what Mutter had called it.

Peep didn't argue. He must be in shock now.

A paper index—there must be one in this mess, too. It was all I could think of. Pointless probably, but what else could we do? There was no time for anything else.

God only knew where it was.

Wait, Mutter's briefing. First cabinet to the left of the drawer.

Found it. Mutter said the target was a file called "Dorado." Flipped to the Index—"Dorado was cross listed under Sandeer. What the hell?"

"S's," I shouted to Keisha, but she was deep in fugue state now, her power possessing her, gesturing madly. I ducked below a metallic cyclone, my hair plastered by the gust from the flying metal fragments. This was getting deadly.

I did a quick count—okay, second to last cabinet, which still miraculously stood. I hit my knees and rifled through the file drawers. Sandeer. A slender file. It wasn't red.

I brandished it at Keisha. "Got it. Let's haul ass."

"It's not red!"

It wasn't, but it said "Sandeer," and that was good enough for me.

A chainsaw started up and a pain spiked into my head. They were sawing through the palm trees and vines. My head pounded. I couldn't think through the chorus of screaming and dying plants

"Peep, lead me to the back door."

He looked confused. "Lead me out of here. The plants are dying and it's taking all I have to stay focused."

He nodded, snapped out of his shock. Took my hand. I was too filled with the cries of the dying bonsai and palm to shudder. Keisha still wouldn't leave.

"Come on Keisha!" I gasped. My head felt squeezed by a giant's hand. The chainsaw revved higher.

Peep dragged me out of the room. I caught a last glimpse of Keisha in the center of a hurricane of metal.

Down a flight of emergency stairs. After a long descent we stopped, and Peep peered around a corner.

"Two guards," he said. "Hold on." His eyes seemed to grow larger, becoming unfocused. Gave me the creeps, but I wasn't about to complain, not if it got us out of here.

"Okay, I have a viewing chain," he said. He was suddenly all business. "SWAT is at the front entrance. No sign of Empowered or Support agents yet." His eyes twitched. "Wait, I see the surveillance blimp."

The door below us started to open.

"Peep," I hissed at him. "I don't have any plants to work with." I was weak from my exertion upstairs, too. The world began to spin.

Peep's eyes snapped back into focus.

"But I have a stunner." He palmed what looked like a flip phone, a heavy plastic oval. Thumbed the device. A quiet hum started up.

Where the hell did he come off having a stunner?

"That's banned tech," I said. The prison guards used them.

Two police appeared in the doorway below.

"I always have banned tech," Peep said, and fired twice.

I heard the thud of falling bodies and then we were out in the street and racing toward a parked truck. Peep's.

"Damn you, Keisha," Peep said as he pushed me inside.

The police must all be around the front.

"What about the blimp?" I mumbled.

"Gus?" I heard Peep call on the radio

I couldn't see very well.

"If he can't get out, he isn't worthy of his name," Peep replied. He did a U-turn and we drove off.

What had happened to Gus and Keisha?

# Chapter 12

I coughed. My throat was so damn dry.

"We're almost there," Peep said.

I opened my eyes. We were driving somewhere southeast. I sat up and groaned. "Thanks," I told Peep. Thought I'd never be thanking him for anything, but he'd gotten us away.

He shrugged. "I wanted out of there, too."

I felt like someone had worked me over with a sledgehammer.

The safe house turned out to be a rambling two-story split-level, the kind popular in the 1970s and 80s. Ruth's old house had been one of those.

I staggered inside after Peep and collapsed on a couch in the living room, where I fell into an exhausted sleep.

When I woke it was dark outside. A microwave chimed. Peep appeared from the kitchen.

"You hungry?"

I sat up. "Yes." I could eat a horse.

We ate TV dinners at the dining room table. Oil paintings of seascapes hung on the wall, and knick-knacks filled a curio cabinet. The shag rug was chocolate colored. Yuck. The safe house was like some sort of sick time capsule.

Headlights shone into the living room as a van pulled into the driveway. Mutter, at last?

I recognized my delivery van. It stopped. The Headlights went off. A moment later the driver's side door opened, and Keisha got out.

She marched to the front door and pounded loudly on it.

"She's pissed," Peep said. The understatement of the century.

He unlocked the door and Keisha stormed in.

"You!" She launched herself at me, charging into the dining room. I jumped up.

She got right up in my face. "Cut and run. You screwed up."

"I covered our asses." If I hadn't used those plants, we'd be in jail. I wasn't the one that wouldn't lead.

"That's coward talk. We would have done just fine. Instead, you ran off with Peep." She glared at him.

He edged away, hands out. "I was just following Mathilda."

Coward. "I thought Gus was the weasel in this group," I told Peep. "And what the hell happened with Mutter?"

Keisha gestured at me. "I don't care—you are the one that caused this."

"I didn't see Mutter's van."

"So what?" Keisha's eyes narrowed. "We follow his orders. Maybe he held off Hero Council Empowered."

"You're kidding me, right?" There was no sign of an HC team there. We would have known.

She shoved a fist in my face. "Don't push this off on somebody else. You cut and ran."

"You wouldn't leave."

"You left me, asshole."

We glared at each other. The front door opened again and Gus entered.

"Glad you are in one piece, man," Peep told him. Gus slunk over to the couch, but seeing Keisha and I doing the death stare at each other, he stopped and edged toward the kitchen.

"What happened with the Scrambler?" I demanded.

Gus gestured wildly. "I don't know. I deployed it, but it didn't work. I mean, it did work, but it didn't go off like it should have. As soon as you guys got into the archive, the alarms went off. The cops were there in five minutes, tons of them. It was like they were waiting.

Keisha shot me an ugly look. "Or were tipped off."

"What the hell are you saying?"

We circled each other like two lionesses, staring at the other.

"Someone had to tell them," Keisha said.

"It wasn't me. Why the hell would I do that?"

"How do I know that?"

"What the hell reason would I have for turning us in?" My hands were claws, we were practically bumping chests we were so close. She couldn't know I was an infiltrator. And if she didn't know, then she was just bullying me again. Either way, I couldn't back down.

"Hey, let's just all chill," Gus said, his voice cracking.

Peep had disappeared. The front door was open.

"Stay out of this, Blender." Keisha scowled. Her scowl became a sneer.

"Face it, _Mathilda_ , you ran, just like you did back when you were in your precious, special Renegades."

"Shut up." I raised my hands, flexed the fingers

"And what? You going to make that African violet on the windowsill come get me? Your power is weak, just like you."

Knives floated from the kitchen and began orbiting around her.

"I told you I wasn't going to kick your ass," she said. " _Tilly_." The knives began to twirl. "I'm going to cut it. That's what we do to snitches."

Shit, she had no evidence, she was just out to get me. For some reason that made me even angrier, the random bullying and her making fun of my name. She'd hated me from the start.

A shallow ceramic planter hung from the ceiling over our heads, ivy spilling over the rim. I felt the trembling of its tendrils.

I pushed my power into the ivy, pushed past the plant's screams and the hot pain slicing into me and forced the ivy into a new form, pouring my anger into it. The ivy's slender tendrils thickened and grew into jungle vines.

The writhing green rope looped around her neck. She thrashed as the vine constricted. The knives flew into her open hands and she slashed at the vine. The ivy screamed louder in my mind as it parted, and died. My head throbbed.

Keisha raised her hands and the knives floated up, spinning. I wasn't about to get sliced by those knives.

I charged down the stairs. Knives thunked into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, missing me by inches. I reached the bottom of the stairs, rounded the corner and found myself in what looked like a darkened family room.

Gus yelled something upstairs but I couldn't make it out.

I ran to the patio door, fumbled at the latch in the darkness, flung open the door and stumbled across the cement and onto the grass. I hated fleeing, but I had to get outside where there were plants for me to use.

Rhododendrons grew along the back of the house. I pushed a big surge of energy into them. Their branches lunged forward, some extending into the ducts in the foundation, others shattering the cracked glass of the patio door.

Light came on in the den. Keisha stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the light switch, bits of metal circling her. On the wall beside her was an old red and yellow pachinko machine. The machine exploded and dozens of metal balls hurled toward me. I crouched down, covering my head with my arms. The metal balls struck me in a dozen places. Hurt like hell but the armor I still wore from the job absorbed most of the force and protected my flesh.

Did I say it hurt like hell? It _really_ hurt like hell.

Damn her. Rage tightened my jaw. I'd show Keisha real anger.

I stood, commanded the rhododendron branches beneath the house to press skyward. Wood snapped and cracked like rifle shots.

Keisha staggered as the house began to sway.

Three lodge pole pines loomed behind me, their granite-like presence heavy in my mind. I reached into one with my power, pulled the roots closest to me down with a savage command. My gut twisted. Only my anger kept me going. The pine's roar of pain almost drowned out my own thoughts. I ground my teeth, and killed the pine tree's roots. The tree trumpeted its final agony. My head felt like I was having a stroke. I exhaled sharply. I had to focus. I wasn't finished with the pine yet.

Keisha had a cloud of metal shards around her, once more a spinning steel cyclone, faster and faster.

Gus ran around the corner of the house, waving his arms.

"Stop, Mat! Don't do this."

I ignored him.

Die, I ordered the pine, turning its sap into toxins. The tree leaned over me, a drunken giant, and fell with a slam into the house, crumpled the roof, crashing through the shattered frame and the first floor, down onto Keisha. The ceiling light went out.

I wasn't done with her yet.

I reached out to the second pine towering behind me with my power, sending my essence into the tree.

Gus's hand tugged frantically on my arm. "Stop it, Mat, please." He tightened his grip, hanging on as I fought to pull at the second pine, beginning to turn its sap into toxins like the first.

"Mat, stop."

My face was twisted in a grimace. My lungs ached for oxygen. I took in a ragged breath, and fatigue slammed into me. I staggered, released the pine. Gus caught me before I could fall.

The world swayed, grew dark.

I lay on the ground. A siren blared far away. Grew closer.

Gus helped me to my feet.

"How long?" I asked him.

"Only a few minutes. Someone must have called 911.

The house was dark. The pine's fall must have knocked out the power.

Keisha. I ran to the house. She lay beneath the tree bole, a limb the size of an axe handle punching down through her chest.

God damn her. She'd made me do that. I felt my stomach heave.

Why did she have to be such a nasty bitch, and make me kill her? Gus knelt beside her. Pushed tree branches out of the way. Listened.

He looked up at me, his face slick with sweat. "She's breathing. Just."

The pine moaned faintly in my mind. Just like Keisha the tree hadn't died yet.

My chest felt hollow. The tree had just enough life left in it that I could interact with it, and thus kill it.

I hoped. "I'm sorry," I whispered to the tree. I felt hollow, numb.

I urged the trees limbs around Keisha's body to curl.

"Get her out of there," I gasped.

Gus scrambled and pulled her out.

The limb impaling her had separated at my command from the tree.

I lifted her up in my arms, Gus took her legs and we hurried up the slope around the house to the truck. Peep's van was gone. Coward. I swore. His courage this afternoon had been a fluke. I swore I'd kill him if we met again.

The sirens grew closer.

We laid Keisha in the bed of the truck. Had to get her help, somehow.

"Stay with her, Gus," I ordered. I got behind the wheel, turned around and slid open the dividing window between the cabin and the canopied truck bed, so I could talk with Gus while I drove.

I started the truck, reversed into the street and drove toward Division as the fire truck and EMT screamed past heading toward the house.

"Where are we going?" Gus asked.

"My place." Where else was there to go? I didn't have anything there, but maybe Alex could help. But if I called him, I'd break my cover.

I tasted copper. My lip was bleeding. Too bad. As I drove I kept glancing in the rearview mirror at Gus kneeling beside Keisha, but I couldn't tell how she was doing. Pretty badly I guessed.

I had nearly killed her. Maybe I had killed her. She'd been trying to kill me, so I fought back, and went all out.

Because I gave in to my anger. Anger drove everything I did these days.

I shook my head and concentrated on driving.

"Mat, she's dying," Gus said as I turned onto Division.

A police car flashed by, sirens wailing.

"I know, I know," I replied, my eyes fixed on the road. We stopped at the intersection with 39th, the pavement slick with rain.

"What do we do?" Gus was panicking. Again.

"I don't know, Gus."

Keisha needed medical aid fast.

We couldn't take her to the ER or even an urgent care clinic. They'd figure out she was an Empowered and call the authorities. Then the police, Support, or worse, the Hero Council, would swoop down on her. I squeezed the steering wheel until my hands ached and leaned my aching head against the cool plastic. _Think_.

My chance of doing this damn assignment and getting help for my family would be over. I'd be back in prison.

And Keisha would be dead.

There was no place to turn for help.

Except an old contact from the Renegades. I lifted my head.

Doctor Silverly.

Professor Insight had called him our secret physician. The Professor loved his clever expressions. Back then, when one of us was badly injured or having trouble healing despite our power, the Professor would contact his old friend, Silverly. I don't know what the Prof and the Doc had that bound them together, but Silverly would drop whatever he was doing to help if one of us were injured.

But that had been five years ago. I didn't know if Silverly was still in Portland, or if he were even alive.

I turned right onto 39th, and drove faster.

Gus must have sensed a change in my attitude.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

I was careful to keep at the speed limit even as I longed to floor it.

"A place we can get her help."

Silverly's place was a three-story house, sitting back from the street behind an ivy-covered brick wall. Must be nice to have that kind of money. I parked in the turnaround drive beneath a weeping willow. My hyper-attuned plant sense picked up the tree's gentle murmurs and I let myself float in the sensation for a moment before jumping from the truck, sprinting to the big oak door, and banging the knocker.

A light winked on above me in a third floor window. I knocked again, four more times, each time harder.

The door opened, and Doctor Silverly peered up at me, silver hair tousled, silk bathrobe loose around him. He was barefoot.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Mat? It's you?"

"Yeah, Doc, it's me. I'm out of Special Corrections."

"I'm finished helping criminals, Mat."

"How do you know I'm a criminal, Doctor Silverly?"

He raised his eyebrows, still black despite the rest of his hair having gone as silver as his name. "Really, Mat? You show up in the middle of the night with a wounded person in the truck bed, and you brought that person here rather than the ER?" He shook his head. "It's all on camera."

My stomach twisted. Were the police already on their way? But Silverly didn't seem afraid.

"Cameras?"

"Sure. My security system. I thought the driver looked familiar, but it was hard to tell. But the camera picked up a prone body accompanied by a kneeling figure in the back of your truck."

"That must be some security system."

"It is."

"My, uh, companion got impaled by a tree branch, and she's lost a lot of blood."

"How did she get impaled?"

"My fault. We got in a fight."

Silverly shook his head, suddenly looking a hundred years old. "Mat, I had hoped that if you ever were released from prison, you'd choose a different path."

Gee, thanks, Doc. Silverly had no idea what my life was like now. And it wasn't like I could tell him I was actually an infiltrator for Support.

"Doctor Silverly, she'll die if you don't help."

The indecision on his face vanished. "All right." He disappeared inside the house, returned carrying a black medical bag, and followed me to the rear of the truck.

I lowered the truck's gate. Keisha lay on her back. She was no longer moaning, but her chest still rose and fell. Gus looked up from where he knelt beside her and wiped his eyes.

"Gus, you remember the Doc."

"Hi, Doc."

Silverly nodded, scrambled up onto the truck's gate without asking for help, spryer than I would have thought for a man who had to be past seventy. He crawled over to Keisha and began examining her. He unzipped his medical bag and I heard the hiss of a hypo.

"Adrenalin," he said over his shoulder.

"Can you save her?" The words felt heavy in my mouth.

"Not here." Silverly put some sort of flexible bandage around the wound. "She needs a hospital."

"Yeah, but won't they get suspicious."

He scooted out and jumped down, brushing at his bathrobe.

"Not if we sneak her in the back way."

The gurney's left front wheel vibrated loudly as I pushed it. Keisha lay under a space blanket, head elevated. My borrowed hospital scrubs were too tight.

Gus walked beside me. Silverly had had one spare pair of scrubs and, incredibly, a gurney (I didn't ask), so Gus was still dressed in his jacket, t-shirt and jeans, and tennis shoes. He was rubbing his hands nervously. We'd dropped the Doc at the front of the hospital. I'd wanted to keep him with us to help us get inside, but he insisted he had to go in separately and prep the room. Whatever. I smelled coward, but we were asking a lot of Silverly.

We crossed the parking lot. I half expected police to suddenly surround us, guns drawn. That would complicate things royally. I kept rubbing my sweaty hands against my scrubs and glancing nervously at Keisha, unconscious on the gurney.

My phone vibrated, three times. Stopped. I didn't glance at it. When it began buzzing again a few moments later I knew it was Mutter. Wasn't gonna answer that, not now. I'd have to face the music eventually, but not now.

Silverly had told us to meet him in Room 1C. But without him to talk our way past anyone we ran into, our chances sucked. Sure enough, just as we reached the side door, a security guard appeared.

Gus jumped away from me. The little weasel was going to disappear and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. A second later he had vanished, blending into the shadowy parking lot.

I swear, if Keisha lived I would kill Gus for leaving me in the lurch.

The security guard strolled toward me. "Can I help you, orderly?" He was a large, dark skinned man, with a holstered pistol on his hip, what looked like a pepper spray canister, and handcuffs.

I wore the generic badge Silverly had given me—the one you had to sign out for if you forgot your real one, he said. He kept that and the scrubs at home. He must still do some unauthorized medical work at the hospital. Lucky for Keisha.

"This patient has experienced a trauma and blood loss." I searched my memory for the right words.

"Why didn't you go in the front?"

This was where things went south.

I shifted my stance. Suspicion started to creep across his face.

Gus appeared right in front of the guard.

"Because I told her to come back here," he said.

The guard jumped back, yanking at his gun.

Gus vanished again.

"Shit, one of _them!"_ The guard's eyes were wide and he jerked around, looking for Gus.

Think fast, Mat, I told myself. Keisha was dying.

"Protect me, sir," I said. The door was only twenty feet away. "Get us inside."

He nodded. "Go." He drew his gun and assumed a firing stance, scanning around us. Thank God, the guard had reacted without thinking. Hopefully his adrenalin would keep him from doing that until after all this. I pushed the gurney up to the door, the guard backing up to cover me.

A rock landed nearby and the guard pointed the gun where it landed.

"He's trying to draw you off!" I said. It wasn't hard to put fear into my voice.

I reached the building. The guard backed up next to me as I opened the door and pulled the gurney inside behind me.

The guard followed, pulling out his radio. "Central, this is Kyle. We have a situation on the north end of the ER building, Door 3B."

In moments the place would be crawling with guards.

The guard motioned down the narrow hallway. "Go ahead and take her to the ER. I'll be right behind you."

I nodded and pushed the gurney down the hall. The gurney's left wheel kept squealing in protest. I pushed past the intersection and the sign for ER that pointed left.

"Hey, that's not the way." The guard's shout made me jump.

Gus was in between the guard and me, at the intersection. "Boo!" he shouted at the guard.

What the hell? Gus was suddenly fearless.

The guard pointed his gun at Gus. "Freeze!"

"Careful. Miss me and you hit her," Gus said. He vanished.

Blending in with a brightly lit, white hospital corridor must have been hard for Gus to pull off. It was going to eat him up doing that. The guard ran toward me, skidding to a stop at the intersection. "Down here," we heard Gus call from the direction of the ER.

"Shit!" The guard lifted his radio. "Central, we have a rogue intruder, headed toward the ER. He ran down the corridor after Gus.

Gus was being fearless. No, make that freaking crazy. I didn't know what had gotten into him.

I pushed the gurney onto another juncture. So far the intercom had remained silent. No other guards appeared. Yet.

There it was. Room 1C. I pushed open the door.

Silverly waited inside, beside banks of medical equipment. It was an operating room.

"Security has been alerted," I told him. "Gus is playing hide and seek, but things are going to get noisy real fast."

Silverly laid out scalpels on a tray, along with a hypo and motioned for me to bring the gurney over beside the operating table. "We aren't going to move her."

"Did you hear me?" I demanded. Why wasn't he more concerned?

"I heard you." He thought for a moment, nodded to himself and went to wall a phone. He was turning us in. I took a step toward him.

He put a finger up to his lips, dialed a number. "I have one favor I had been saving." He looked at me sourly. "This wasn't how I wanted to spend it."

He talked into the phone. "Greg, its Rance. Sorry to bother you, but I need to call in that favor. Contact hospital security and tell them the present alert is a training exercise. Have the guard that made the initial call report to you. Have him give you a rundown."

Words from the other side I couldn't make out.

"Yes, I know. Now I owe you. Thanks." Silverly hung up. He frowned at me, shook his head.

"Hey, thanks for doing this," I said.

He lifted the sheet. Keisha's bandages were wet with blood and my stomach lurched. The anger was gone from her face, she looked smaller somehow and so very vulnerable.

"Steady, Mat," Silverly told me.

I swallowed bile. "I'll be okay." Focus, I told myself, but it was tough. A tree packed more power than I'd realized. My stomach was in knots and my shoulders felt like rocks.

The room's antiseptic smell made me want to gag. I wiped my mouth.

Silverly cut away her shirt. I winced as the clotting blood made the shirt stick to Keisha's skin. The bandages were soaked with it. I couldn't watch.

"Oxygen!" Silverly's command focused me. Had to stay focused. Keisha depended on it

I fitted the mask over Keisha, checked the airflow.

He hung a plastic bag of blood on a pole, and inserted an IV into her arm, then gave her another shot of adrenalin and got to work.

I kept my eyes on the readouts, passed him instruments when he asked. He really should have a nurse helping him. Hell, he should have a whole staff assisting instead of just me. But it was just me. So no way could I pass out. I forced myself to go numb, not feel anything, just be there, helping the Doc.

"Mat?" His voice pulled at me. "I'm going to pull out the branch, be ready with bandages.

I nodded stiffly.

He lifted the limb. Blood oozed from the cavity and I pressed down the bandages.

"Mat, Mat, not so hard."

He pushed my hand aside, got to work in the bloody cavity. I didn't look; I just focused on handing him whatever he asked for. Zombie me.

After what seemed like forever, Silverly finished, pulled off his surgical gloves, and mopped his forehead. He looked so damn old, and tired.

"Her accelerated healing along with your bringing her to me made the difference. She just needs rest now." He leaned against a counter.

My phone vibrated again. I let it vibrate.

"Thank, you, Rance," I said.

He sighed. "Is this really not what it seems?"

I nodded my head fractionally. "You could say that."

"Good, I'm very glad to hear that." He put the instruments into an autoclave. "Life is too short to be spent making all the wrong choices."

I leaned over the gurney and watched Keisha's breath rise and fall. I hoped Silverly was right.

# Chapter 13

I found Gus waiting by the truck.

The sun was almost up. I had caught a few snatches of sleep while Keisha recovered in a post-op room. Silverly had given her painkillers and a massive dose of antibiotics, telling me that would be the only dose she'd need, thanks to her Empowered healing. An orderly who didn't ask questions pushed her wheelchair to the truck.

I helped her stand with Gus's help.

"I didn't think I was going to live," she said, her voice barely audible.

"You're gonna live," I told her.

"How did I make it?" she asked as I buckled her in.

"We got help."

Her eyes focused on me. "You nearly killed me, bitch," she said and then slipped away into sleep. How long would it be before she started another metal cyclone and tried to kill me again?

The sun was shining by the time we arrived at my house. Going to have to forget about being stealthy. Support might get pissed. That was tough.

I parked the truck in the garage. Gus jumped out and rolled the door back down. Keisha pulled away when I tried to help her out of the truck.

"No more help from you," she said. "You've done enough."

Screw her. I let Gus help her out of the truck. Sunlight shone through the garage door windows.

"Thank you, thank you," she kept murmuring to him.

I had nearly killed her, granted, but she'd started the damn fight. I had saved her freaking life. If I hadn't taken her to the Doc, she'd be deader than that dead mouse in the corner of the garage.

The inside door to the house opened, and Alex looked out, wearing his scruffy hoodie and torn jeans.

Gus gave Alex a funny look, surprise mingled with I don't know what, distrust? He definitely acted like someone had given him a wedgie. Maybe he still had some of last night's iron in his backbone. Old Gus would have blended and vanished as soon as he saw Alex.

For an instant, Alex looked surprised, but he covered it nicely.

"I thought you said the house was empty, Mat," Gus said accusingly.

"You're not supposed to be here," I told Alex.

He shrugged. "You said I could crash here, didn't you?"

"I don't remember that."

"Hey, not fair to go pulling the rug out from under me because you want to loan your crash pad to someone else. You said I could, and now you're acting like you don't remember you told me that."

"I didn't say you could." We stared at each other; me the annoyed keeper of the crash pad, and Alex, the friend being denied what he wanted.

"This sucks." His gaze wandered over to Keisha. "Your friend looks hurt, dude." The stoner slacker he was playing had a short attention span.

"We got it covered, thanks."

Alex shrugged. "You gonna get help for her?"

"Already done."

He shrugged. "Okay, just thought I'd point it out."

"Go out through the back, remember?"

Alex slouched off back inside the house, conveniently leaving the door open.

Keisha kept silent through all this, watching.

"Friend of yours, Mat?" Gus asked.

"Just some guy I met on the street. I fixed a problem he had with a drug dealer, he pointed me to this place, but the agreement was that this is _my_ house. Not _ours_."

Keisha's lip curled. "Since when does a streeter like him stick to 'agreements'?"

"Sometimes they do." I wasn't letting her under my skin. Not now.

She frowned. "You're still a fool."

Inside the house Gus helped Keisha stretch out on the futon. I checked her temperature. She tried to pull away, but I insisted. It was almost normal.

I went into the kitchen to make her breakfast and Gus followed me.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" he said.

"Yes." Relief washed over me. She was going to live. Her healing had taken over. You could already see the old Keisha coming back. I opened an egg omelet with fruit Insta-Meal, added water, pulled the tab underneath, and the mix began heating. I felt lighter than I had in days. I never would have guessed I'd feel so good at her not dying, but I did.

"You're a lot alike," Gus said.

"Keisha and me? Don't be crazy." I opened the fruit packet, then fished around in the cabinet for the package of plastic cups, poured some orange juice.

Gus leaned on the counter next to me. "But you are. You're both headstrong and fearless."

"You were pretty fearless back at the hospital, Gus."

"I couldn't leave you in the lurch." He didn't look away. "I'm sorry about the Renegades, more than I can tell you."

I stiffened. "Why did you have to go bring that up?"

He didn't flinch. "I was afraid, Mat. The Professor had sent me out to look for something."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter now. Not after what happened."

"But you were the perfect lookout Gus—that was your job. What the hell were you doing going off on some stupid errand when we needed you?"

He pushed himself off the counter, and his eyes narrowed. I'd never seen Gus angry before.

"It was for the Professor—medication."

"What?" Empowered don't need medication.

"He was dying. And there was a lab nearby that had a drug he could alter to help him."

"What did he have?"

"He had Thalik's."

"Thalik's?" I suddenly felt heavy. What were the odds the Professor and Ruth had the same thing? Seemed really unlikely to me, but there it was. Thalik's. Stinking disease.

"He never said a thing." My anger fled me and I leaned back, rubbed my eyes. God I was exhausted.

Gus laughed sadly. "Prof never did."

"True." For a short Empowered wearing glasses—nearly unheard of for one of us to have eye trouble—he had been charismatic, but he played things close. He'd been unbeatable in poker.

Thalik's.

"I was on my way back when the hammer fell," Gus said. His voice got small and his eyes widened, staring into the past and reliving a horror I couldn't feel.

"So you did the only thing you could do."

"Ran like a coward." He gulped air. "I didn't even get what the Professor wanted. The lab I broke into didn't have the drug he wanted. _Nobody did._ It was a dead end. I only lived because I was sent off on a fool's errand."

I swallowed. I had wanted to kill Gus ever since that day. But really, what other choice did he have? _None_. I was the only one who had survived the attack on the Renegades, in the underground haven we'd made. Everyone else had died. I'd spent years in Special Corrections reliving that day and being angry at Gus.

He hadn't fled because he'd tipped off the Hero Council. He'd been doing a secret job for the Professor.

I squeezed his shoulder. "No. You stayed free."

Gus blinked away tears, stared outside. He wiped his eyes and sobbed. I hugged him close then, let him cry against my chest, my hand on his head, pressing him against me.

Keisha was sitting up on the futon when I returned with her breakfast.

She wrinkled her nose. "What is that crap?"

"Insta-meal mushroom and cheese omelet."

"Where the hell did you get those?"

"Liberated them from a food services outfit that had extra." Back in the Renegades, Professor used to say that the best lies were the plausible ones.

"Great," Keisha grumbled and began forking egg into her mouth. "Tastes like shit," she said around a mouthful of omelet.

Nice to know Keisha was still Keisha.

My phone woke me up, vibrating in my pocket. I groaned, rolled over and blinked. I was in one of the other bedrooms, lying on my coat. Wind rustled the arbor vitae outside. It was around noon.

Not a huge surprise, the caller. Mutter. The phone kept vibrating. He didn't stop at three.

I went into the living room. Gus sat in the one chair, lost in thought. He looked up as I came in.

I held up the phone. "Our leader calls. He's just letting it ring and ring." Up to fifteen rings now.

"Better answer then."

"Yes, but it isn't..." I trailed off. It wasn't the damn phone protocol Mister Big had insisted on using.

Gus shrugged. "He must really want to talk to you." Great. I stared at the phone.

The hell with it.

I thumbed the receiver button. "Hello."

"About time you answered me." Mutter's voice was ice-cold. I was glad we weren't having this chat face to face. My throat ached already.

"We've been busy." No excuse in my voice, just kept it matter-of-fact.

"Too busy to answer your phone?" Ice-cold, but there was rage underneath. Royally pissed, but controlling it. For now.

There was no easy way around it, so I just told him. "The job went south. The Scrambler\--"

He cut me off. "No details over the phone. This needs to be discussed in person."

His voice deepened on that last word. Made it sound menacing and dangerous.

"Got it." I struggled to keep worry out of my voice. "Where do I find you?"

"Call me from a pay phone in one hour, and I'll give you the address. Bring the others with you."

He hung up. Why couldn't he have just given me the address over the phone? If I had been fingered, wouldn't I be followed? Okay, so I actually _was_ compromised, in that I was an agent for Support, but Mutter didn't know that. Unless he did, and I was taking myself to my own funeral. Crap. Couldn't worry about it. If I didn't go he'd be suspicious for sure.

The kitchen suddenly felt like my old prison cell in Special Corrections. Too small. I paced the house.

Gus trailed behind me, asked me something, but I was lost in thought. I was in deep shit—we all were.

There was a tug on my arm. Gus. "Stop for a second, Mat."

Keisha watched from the futon, her anger clearly bubbling just below the surface. She was barely keeping it together.

"Mutter's mad at us," I said. "He wants me to call him in"—I glanced at my watch, "fifty-three minutes."

Keisha leaned back on the futon. "Of course that asshole is angry. We screwed the job."

"It wasn't our fault," Gus said. "The Scrambler didn't work."

"You'd better hope he sees it that way," Keisha told him. She looked at me. "You wrecked his goddam safe house."

"Maybe I wouldn't have, if you hadn't been trying to kill me."

She pulled herself up, began gesturing.

Gus looked from her face to mine, and back to Keisha. "Stop it," he said.

Keisha looked astonished. I must have looked surprised, too, because Gus smiled.

"Where do you get off being so tough all of a sudden, Silco?" Keisha asked him.

He looked at his hands. "You guys have a lot in common."

"No we don't," Keisha and I said in unison.

Gus gave me a sideways look. "Like I said, you two have a lot in common."

"Don't go spreading lies, Blender," Keisha said. She looked pissed.

Keisha and I didn't have anything in common.

He pointed at me. "That look you just gave me? That's an annoyed and soon to be angry look."

I pushed my boot's toe into the floor. "I'm not annoyed. Irritated maybe."

Keisha shot him a dirty look. "Where do you get off saying she and me are the same?"

He shook his head. "I didn't say you were the same. I said you have a lot in common."

She crossed her arms, simmering anger tightening her forehead. "Lots of people get angry."

Yeah, and Mutter was one of them.

Gus turned on a portable radio. "Music calms me down," he said.

He didn't have nearly as much to be worked up about as me or Keisha, but I wasn't going to argue. His nervous pacing made me twitchy, and I wanted to punch him when he pointed out that I did the same thing. But I didn't want Keisha to lose it, and I didn't want to get angry again, either. This time one of us could wind up dead.

A blander than bland boring pop music tune finished. Thank God for small favors. Then a news update came on.

"Police and the FBI are investigating the apparent murder of billionaire tech titan Jonathan van Cleeve, founder of three technology companies and three-time recipient of the Friendship Medal, awarded by the Hero Council for Meritorious assistance by a civilian to the Empowered. Van Cleeve and his security detail were found dead in his West Hills mansion late last night."

Gus paled and looked sick.

"What is it?" I asked him. The news story seemed to have smacked him upside the head. But why? No way Gus knew someone like Van Cleeve. Billionaire tech dudes didn't mix with rogue Empowered guys like Gus.

His eyes took on a haunted look. "I can't say."

"Spill it, Gus," Keisha said. "Otherwise, buck up and don't let on you know something we don't."

"Why can't you say?" I asked him.

"Mutter wouldn't like it."

Keeping secrets for Mutter was no surprise, but this was different. Gus was scared to death.

I wasn't going to push him. But I'd damn sure tell Support.

The dead neon sign in the grimy window said "Atlas Motors." The two-story brick building wasn't far from the old National Guard Armory. The place looked like a total dump on the outside, but inside bright fluorescents lit clean, uncluttered garage bays.

Mutter waited for us in the main bay, perched on a stool, tapping his fingers together. He looked like a fashionable undertaker, wearing a high-collared black suit. His snakeskin boots were gray-green in the garage lighting.

A spendy four-door was parked behind him. A silver Pontiac Elegant, from the looks of it. Funny how Mutter always had nice rides. Peep stood next to the car, fiddling with his glasses and not looking at us.

"Nice of you to show up, asshole," I shouted at Peep.

Keisha surprised me by joining in. "Thought you'd be long gone by now, _coward_." He flinched, but kept his head down, still fiddling with those damn glasses of his.

Mutter's face was a mask of cold fury, making me take a step back. He raised a hand, made a twirling motion. "You are the last ones to take umbrage at Lyle's actions." The air gusted around me, rustling the remains of an old newspaper lying on the garage floor. I breathed faster, desperate to keep the oxygen coming. My throat throbbed.

I pointed at Peep. "He ran off."

Mutter's mouth moved, he gestured and wind slammed me. I fought to keep standing. Keisha and Gus backed away.

Mutter raised a hand and the wind whirled around me, tighter and tighter, squeezing my sides. He didn't smile this time, like he had back at the Imperial Hotel. Instead, he looked like a psycho who was ready to kill me.

"He cut and run!" I yelled.

Mutter snapped his fingers and the air was still. "With good reason." He gave Keisha and me both the stink eye. "You wrecked the safe house after making an absolute hash of the assignment."

I stayed silent. No excuses.

Mutter stared at us like a judge.

"Good," he said. "You understand your failure." His sudden attitude swings gave me whiplash.

He ordered us to report what happened, so I did. I left out the part where I wondered were the hell he was. This was all on my team, even if his being gone might have helped screw things up. That wouldn't help things here in the garage with our deadly boss.

I finished and watched his reaction.

"That was certainly quick thinking on your part to block the hallway," Mutter said. I couldn't believe it. A compliment? At least a kind of compliment.

"Keisha? Why couldn't you find the documents?" She didn't answer. He began twirling his fingers. She flinched.

I spoke up. "We did find the file, but it wasn't in a red binder like you said."

He arched an eyebrow. "Rising to your enemy's defense? My, my, how things have changed since you tried to kill her in the house. My house." Everything seemed to be Mutter's, including us.

"I started it," Keisha said.

"Really?"

"Yes—I was mad because she and Peep left when I wanted to search further.

Gus was shaking visibly.

Mutter raised his fingers to his lips. "Guilty conscience, Blender?"

Gus shook his head.

"The Scrambler was fully functional, Gus. I wonder why it didn't go off?"

"I deployed it, Mutter, I did, really." The words tumbled out of Gus's mouth. "I did what you ordered. The lights were green, they were!"

Mutter walked over to Gus, a nasty grin on his face. He put a finger on Gus's lips. "Something is rotten in Denmark, and I will learn what the source of the stench is." He wrinkled his nose. "The urine stink is obvious."

A dark stain spread down the front of Gus's cargo pants. "Oh, God," he wailed.

"It is me you need to worry about," Mutter said. He turned to Keisha and me.

"I'm surprised at you, Keisha. Why aren't you angry with Mat for nearly killing you, even if, as you say, you started it?"

"She saved my life." Keisha glanced at me. "Thank you."

"Touching," Mutter said. "And how did you manage that, Mat?" He steepled his fingers. My heart pounded faster.

"Got in touch with someone from the old days."

"Really?" His voice went ice-cold again. "Did you compromise my cell's secrecy?"

"No. I told him nothing."

"And who was it?"

"I'd rather not say."

Again air slammed me, and I staggered backwards. "You'll answer my question."

Keisha got between me and Mutter, stumbled back toward me and caught herself.

"It isn't important," I heard her shout over the wind.

The wind stopped. Mutter cocked his head to one side.

"And how do you know? You were unconscious? Do you suddenly trust her that much?"

I squeezed Keisha's arm, stepped up next to her. "Doctor Rance Silverly," I said.

"Never heard of him."

Good.

A sound like a celestial bell pealed in the garage.

Mutter scowled. "Do not move," he ordered us, and sauntered to the far side of the garage. I glimpsed him loosening his collar and fingering a medallion around his neck. His lips moved, but he was too far away to hear.

"His boss," Keisha whispered. "The Scourge inner circle."

Talk about bad timing for Mutter. The bosses wanted to know how his job had gone. The answer was the job had gone south.

"Thanks for speaking up," I told her.

She shook her head. "You're still an idiot, but I had to say something."

Peep smirked at Gus. "Nice going."

Gus ducked his head.

"Leave him alone." I glared at Peep.

He backed away, hands in front of him. "Hey, I don't have a beef with you."

"Because you're afraid I'll clean your clock. Which I will if you don't shut the hell up."

Peep cringed. "Okay, okay, I'll leave it."

Mutter returned.

"Now, where were we?" His brow furrowed. "Ah, yes, Gus's betrayal."

Gus shook his head, desperate. "I told you, the Scrambler was operational."

"Precisely. It would have worked if it had been functional, which it was. Therefore, it wasn't activated."

"I did activate it."

"We'll see." He muttered low, wordless sounds, making lazy circles with his arms.

"No, it's not my fault, Mutter. Please, don't," Gus begged. The air howled around Gus and pulled him off the ground. The wind changed, became a rushing sound, like water over rocks. Mutter pinched his fingers. Gus thrashed in the air. His face began to purple.

"Stop it!" I yelled. Gus continued to thrash and Mutter ignored me. Gus's eyes rolled up.

I wanted to make Mutter stop. I wanted to run to Gus, protect him somehow. But I stayed put like a good little soldier. Watched the horror show, my stomach churning.

"You tipped off the police by not correctly activating the Scrambler. The question is, was it deliberate or mere incompetence?" Mutter lowered his arms.

Gus fell to the ground, gasping for breath, and sobbed.

"Well?" Mutter asked.

"I swear I didn't tip off the cops. I didn't."

Mutter stared at Gus with a snake-about-to-eat-a-mouse expression. Gus got to his knees, and crawled toward Mutter, whimpering and begging not to be killed.

I looked away.

Mutter grinned wickedly. "I'll forgive your incompetence, Gus. This time." He laughed. "All things considered, the job went well." Another whiplash from another sudden attitude switch. He was pleased with himself. Toying with Gus. Bastard.

It hit me then.

"We were just a decoy, weren't we?" A slow rage began to build in my gut.

"Smarter than you look, Mathilda." He laughed again, sending ice down my spine. "Yes, you were, and you played it well."

"What the hell?" Keisha said. "This was just a frigging red herring?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, but quite important."

The Scourge's inner circle had commanded Mutter to do this job, so he set us up to do it, but he had been up to something else. Whatever it was, it had been something he was willing to risk the rest of us to accomplish.

He and the secret member of our cell had been dressed in HC jumpsuits and visored helmets—sanctioned Empowered, or so people would think.

The news story about Van Cleeve's death.

Somehow that was connected.

The dive bar was called "the Hole-in-the-Wall," and the name fit. Cracked plaster walls, and linoleum so yellowed it looked like lemon peel. A red neon Schlitz sign glowed on the wall below a stuffed bear's head. Two slouching trucker types played a lazy game of pool on a beat-up billiards table across the room while a muted TV over the bar showed a boxing match.

A couple of scummy looking dudes gave me the hopeful eye while I waited in a booth for Winterfield to show up. I ignored them and drank my beer. Empowered can actually get drunk or high, but it takes some work, and the buzz doesn't last long.

I hadn't hit the booze when I got to "the Hole-in-the-Wall," but I was still shaking inside after that scene in the garage. Gus had disappeared as soon as Mutter finished the briefing. Keisha took off as well, while Peep followed Mutter around like a puppy that's been swatted a few times and is desperate to prove it can obey. He made my skin crawl.

I finished my beer. Mutter's briefing at the garage had been bullshit. He had ranted at us and tortured Gus, nearly killed him. What had been the point? Just to make Gus crawl? I couldn't get the sound of his begging Mutter not to kill him out of my head.

"You look like hell," Winterfield said. He slid onto the bench across the table from me. He took one look at my face and motioned at the bar maid. When she looked over he pointed at my bottle, and held up two fingers.

I did a double take. He didn't look so good himself. He had dark circles under his eyes and beard stubble on his chin. Winterfield was the alert and razor sharp type, always clean shaven and button-downed. Now he looked like a stockbroker who'd just lost his shirt.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Investigating a murder."

"Whose?"

He gave me a sour look. "Brandt, you should know I can't tell you that. Let's focus on your assignment."

So sue me for being curious. _Whatever_.

The waitress brought the beers he had ordered. He took a swig of his. "Report."

So, for the second time in the past few hours I had to go over the foul-up of a job and the aftermath. I didn't editorialize; I just gave him the facts. He listened, didn't raise an eyebrow or even ask questions.

I finished with the debriefing at the Atlas Motor's building in Old Town.

Winterfield looked at me thoughtfully, long enough that I began to squirm on the bench seat.

He wrote an address in his notepad, tore off the paper and handed to me. "Your new place."

"Why do I need a new place?"

"Really, Brandt? Isn't it obvious?" He closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Your new friends know where the old one is. Which no longer makes it an effective place for Sanchez to visit you."

I flushed. "I hadn't planned on that."

"Speaking of not planning, no more covert trips to the ER with a retired doctor." He opened his eyes. "However, that was a good use of the resources you had on hand."

"The whole thing was a disaster."

He shook his head. "Not entirely. Your account ties in with what we've been investigating," he said slowly. "Especially your information about him using Hero Council jumpsuit uniforms. They would give admittance into certain locations. The suits have electronic signatures which identify them as official."

"You mean he could get into the _Decahedron_ in Colorado Springs?" The thought of Mutter and his secret associate walking into the North American Headquarters of the Hero Council and Joint UN-US command as sanctioned Empowered was chilling.

"Possibly."

"But why?"

"It's obvious," he said.

I frowned. "Obvious? What was obvious about it?"

"Stay calm." He took another swig of his beer. "I'm normally not a fan of beer, but this is pretty good." He leaned forward, lowered his voice. "I'm wearing a device that will foil any listening in attempts by bugs or in-the-flesh spies, but keep your voice down."

I glanced around. No one sat within ten feet of us, in fact there were less than a dozen people in the place all together counting the bar tender and bar maid.

"Safety first," he said. "Precautions never hurt. This is too important not to have those precautions in place."

"Okay, so we were played. Why?"

"Your leader wanted to cover his tracks."

"I don't get it. Cover his tracks from whom?"

"His bosses in the Scourge. You said he told you this was deemed a high value target by the Scourge."

"Yes, but it was just records."

"Records can be important. We don't know how these might fit into the Scourge's plans."

"What were they?"

"I can't tell you that."

I snorted. "I bust my ass helping to break into that place, and you can't tell me what we were there to steal."

"Did you look at the index or the computer files?"

"Come on! I didn't have time to look at either."

"What did Mutter say about that. Did he ask you?"

"No."

"Interesting, and it fits with what we think he was doing, namely, distracting the Scourge, and giving himself cover while he did something else."

I rubbed my eyes. I could use more sleep. Sure, being Empowered meant I didn't need as much as a normal, but I still needed _some_.

"You think this is connected to Van Cleeve's murder, don't you?" Had to be.

"He was murdered during or shortly after your 'job' at the Lansing Building."

"I knew it was a diversion." I banged my palm against the tabletop. The empties rattled and people looked over in our direction.

"Easy," Winterfield ordered. "You need to calm down."

"We were nearly captured." And the fight with Keisha wouldn't have happened except for that fouled up job. "He went after Van Cleeve."

Winterfield tapped his head. "Now you are thinking rather than just reacting. Yes."

"Why? Why kill a rich dude? To steal his coin collection?"

"Not money. Something else. Information."

"What kind of information could a tech guy give Mutter?" Something Mutter wanted to keep from the Scourge.

Winterfield smiled grimly. "That's what you need to find out."

# Chapter 14

I forgot to check my phone until after I'd gotten to my new place, a little bungalow across town.

Three calls from Mutter's number. I called him back, and went through the whole ring three times, hang up, ring again, wait for the pick up after the ring, but he didn't pick up.

I took a shower. There were insta-meals in the freezer, a microwave, and clothes my size in the closet, the sort of jeans and shirts I'd wear. Support had everything figured out.

Except how to find out what Mutter's real target was, other than just playing along until Mutter told me.

I was finishing my dinner when my phone vibrated on the Formica counter where I'd left it.

Mutter.

I tried not to snatch it up. Had to remain calm. I opened the phone, put the receiver up to my ear. "Brandt here." I had to convince him I'd just been out of touch by accident.

His voice was silken. "I am pleased you're available this time, Mathilda."

"My phone's battery ran down. I called you back as soon as I had recharged it and saw you had called."

"Oh, let's not worry about trivialities. We have more important matters to discuss."

Something in his voice started me sweating.

"Like what?"

"Oh, this needs to be discussed in person, Mathilda." He sounded very pleased with himself. Pause, then the other shoe dropped, the nasty one.

"I want you to meet me at your grandmother's apartment."

My heart stopped. Ruth's apartment? God, no. _No!_

"Why?" My voice cracked.

"Like I said, we have certain things to discuss. In fact, I am visiting here as we speak."

"You are?" My hands were suddenly clammy and my stomach twisted in knots. You have such an interesting family, Mathilda. I am thrilled to have this opportunity to get to know them.

"Please join us."

I raced to Ruth's in the Dasher. Slammed the car door and charged up the stairs to her apartment, praying he hadn't hurt them. If he had... I couldn't breathe from the panic filling me. If he had, I swear I'd kill him, no matter what.

I flung open the door.

Ava was on the couch, hair loose, eyes wide while Mutter perched in Ruth's chair his arm around Ella's waist as she stood beside the chair, her eyes wide as well. His fingers tapped at her hip.

Ava sobbed silently.

Mutter smiled as I barged in. "Ah, Mathilda, so glad you could join us." He withdrew his arm, patted Ella in the small of her back. "Go join your sister," he said to her.

She scurried over to the couch and sat. The twins huddled together, arms around each other.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out like an idiot.

He tilted his head. "Well, for one I wanted to meet your family, since they mean so much to you."

My hands seemed to have a life of their own, fingers curling and twisting.

His expression went cold. "I also wanted to ask if there's anything you would like to tell me." His eyes narrowed. "Anything you would like to admit to."

Shit. Did Mutter suspect I was an agent for Support? I had tried to cover my tracks. Had kept my mouth shut.

It hit me.

God, Gus had seen Alex at the house. What if he'd blabbed that to Mutter, and that's why Mutter was asking?

Ella began crying.

He cupped his hands, whispered in that low wordless way he had when he used his power. A tissue box on an end table bobbled up into the air and wobbled across the room, landing on the coffee table beside Ella.

"There you are, my dear. Happy to help you dry your eyes. There's no reason to fear me."

Mutter leaned forward, like a python eyeing a rabbit. The twins shuddered.

"Leave them alone," I said. "They aren't part of this."

His half smile was all sharp edges. "That depends on you"

"Who are you?" Ava asked in a tremulous voice.

"I'm an Empowered, like your sister."

"Let's go outside," I told him. I had to get him out of here. Now.

"I've only just arrived." He cocked his head to one side. "Don't tell me you hide things from these sweet sisters of yours." He made a tsk-tsk sound. "Secrets can destroy relationships."

I looked him in the face. "You can count on me to do what you ask. To follow...your instructions."

He pursed his lips. "I want more than that. I want your loyalty. To me and me alone."

"You got it. Promise." I couldn't read him. Did he suspect I was an agent, or did he just want to be sure I wouldn't play him for my own advantage? Mutter loved being the cat and the rest of us were mice to play with.

Ruth came into the kitchen from her bedroom, housecoat thrown over her floor-length blue nightgown. She walked steadily, chin up, looked Mutter right in the eye.

"Who are you?" She crossed her arms. "And why are you here?" I wanted to tell her be quiet, but it wouldn't have made any difference.

Mutter inclined his head in mock respect. "As I told your granddaughters, Mrs. Brandt, it is Mrs. Brandt isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, sir." She didn't flinch.

"I wanted to meet Mathilda's family, since she and I work together."

"You mean you're a criminal."

His eyes glittered dangerously. "Well if I am, you should be careful. Very careful."

Ruth lifted her chin. "This is my home. Leave. Now." Ruth was fearless. She might feel like crap from the Thalik's, but she didn't show it. She stood there, back straight and faced Mutter without flinching.

Mutter twiddled his fingers. The silence stretched out. The twins held each other close, frightened gazes darting back and forth from Mutter to Ruth.

I was frozen in place. A muscle between my shoulder blades tensed. The air rustled and then grew still again.

Finally Mutter chuckled and gave Ruth a little mock bow. "Of course, madam. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." He smiled, strolled past me and went outside, the door closing with a soft snick behind him.

The knot between my shoulders loosened and I let out my breath.

"Ruth, I'm sorry," I began.

She raised a hand. "I don't want to hear it." There was steel in her voice.

"I didn't tell him to come here."

She turned away. "It doesn't matter. He's here because he knows you. I told you I wanted nothing to do with your criminal associates. I can't keep you from being on the wrong side of the law, but I will not allow him or any other dangerous people in my own home." She squared her shoulders, still looking away. "That includes you, Mathilda. Please leave. _Now_."

My legs felt like lead. I staggered to the door and slipped outside. As far as Ruth was concerned, I was as bad as Mutter.

Mutter waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at me with a wicked smile and motioned for me to join him.

Knee-high thorny weeds grew in the dirt next to the stairs. If I pushed into the weeds with my power, made them thrash and grow, perhaps I could impale him with elongated, spike-like thorns.

Urge the leaves and the stalks to grow faster, and the thorny leaves would coil around his throat, choking him.

But it wouldn't be fast or sharp enough.

I'd be dead, or worse, he'd bring me to my knees, then go back into Ruth's apartment. I would only hurt them.

"You have a charming family," Mutter said as I came down the stairs. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Bastard.

I stepped off the last step and onto the pavement next to him.

He twiddled his finger and a dust devil formed nearby, rustling shrubs. "You are _mine_ , and mine alone. If I discover you are working with others, no matter who they are, anyone outside _my_ cell, I will pay this sweet family of yours another visit." The dust devil whirled closer, whipping up my hair and bits of dirt into my eyes, forcing me to squeeze my eyelids shut.

"Do you understand?" Those words thundered in my ears and I put my hands over my ears.

"I do," I said. "My family doesn't need to be involved."

"That is up to you. As long as you follow my instructions, do not make trouble, and do exactly as I request, nothing will happen to them."

Right then I would have promised to do anything he asked. Anything at all if it meant keeping them safe.

"I will," I said.

He walked over to the silver Pontiac parked in the fire lane, waiting for him. His hand on the back door, he stopped.

"Remember. It's entirely up to you."

I nodded, numb.

He slipped inside the car, closed the door. I watched it drive off and disappear around the corner.

I wanted to shoot the son of a bitch. Stab him. Strangle him with blackberry vines. Drop a tree on him. He had threatened Ruth and the twins. I should tell Winterfield. Would he pull me? I didn't know. I sat in the Dasher and desperately tried to think how I could protect my family. If I left the cell, the mission failed. And he might kill Ruth and the girls just to punish me. I had to prove that Mutter was up to something that was not in the Scourge's interests, expose him to the Inner Circle.

Forget Special Corrections.

My family's lives were all on the line.

I kept running all this through my head all the way back to the bungalow, right up to the point where I found Alex sitting on the couch, reading a book and obviously waiting for me.

"Doesn't matter where I live, you are going to feel free to break in and wait for me, aren't you?" I was ready to take off someone's head, and Alex was the lucky winner.

He grinned in the face of my boiling anger. "All part of the deal."

I flung myself into an old barcalounger, hard enough for the chair to tilt back and extend the leg rest. I stared at the ceiling fan. Cobwebs stretched from the blades to the plaster ceiling, it was hard to tell where the cobwebs ended and where the shadows began.

"I'm just a mushroom," I said under my breath. I thought I'd said it too low for Alex to hear, but he heard it.

"We're all mushrooms," he replied. "It's the way things work in this business. Those in the know call the shots."

I rubbed my eyes. "Like Winterfield and Mutter."

"Among others."

I yanked on the chair's handle and sat up, the seat back bouncing. "I'd like to be in the know. I'm sick and tired of being a mushroom."

"Something's got you upset," he said.

No shit. But there was no way I could tell him the truth. "I hate not knowing what's going on."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" I wasn't going to tell him about Mutter's threat. This was my problem.

"No, it's not enough." He got up from the couch and knelt beside the barcalounger. You aren't just angry about not knowing what's going on."

Screw it. "Mutter threatened Ruth and the twins."

Alex didn't seem surprised. In fact, he just listened and nodded as I went on about what Mutter had said.

"You knew he might do this," I said.

"It fits his personality profile."

"Wait, what personality profile? I thought Mutter was an unknown until I joined the cell. No picture, no information beyond him being dangerous. Isn't that what you said?" Or was it Winterfield? God, I couldn't keep who knew what straight. I felt like such a fool. Of course Support had known.

"We have other sources of information."

I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. Gulped it down. Alex watched me from the doorway.

Of course they had other sources of information. God, I hated this. Just another sucker to be used. I was just a pawn to be sacrificed. That's what Ruth would say if she knew.

"The less you know about the other sources, the better."

"You mean so I won't let it slip to Mutter that I found out stuff I shouldn't know?"

"Yes."

"Damn it!" I yelled, getting right up in Alex's face. He didn't flinch. "Why didn't Support get a safe house for my family?"

He didn't look away. "Winterfield wouldn't allow it."

"Oh, so you tried, did you?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, I tried, Mat. But he didn't want to compromise your cover, and moving your family would be suspicious."

"Come on, how? So they move."

"It isn't that simple. A safe house would mean protection, and isolation, with your sisters taken out of school."

Damn it, he was right.

Fuck this. I wanted to get drunk, really drunk, but there wasn't anything remotely alcoholic in this dump. "I need a drink."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

I got in his face. Nose to nose. "Then what the hell do you suggest I do? Just drop down on the floor, get into lotus position and chant?"

I needed air.

It was raining outside. The grass sang and the trees murmured. It was almost spring. I wrapped myself in my anger and ignored the world. Walked toward the river, past a quarry.

Someone followed me. Alex.

I kept walking.

The quarry had shut down for the day. All the mixers were parked, and the gates were closed. The whole area was fenced off, and the fence was mostly hidden behind overgrown bushes and trees.

I commanded a tree branch to grow earthward, over the fence.

"Mat!" Alex called after me.

I pulled myself up the branch, hand over hand. Swung onto a branch above the double line of barbed wire topping the fence. Urged that branch earthward.

I dropped onto the ground and walked to the embankment that overlooked the river. I was like that water, rushing on with no way back. I stared at the water for a long time.

"I was worried about you."

I jerked. Alex stood nearby, hands in his pockets.

"Mat, I know you feel trapped."

"How would you know, Alex? You aren't like me. You aren't still a prisoner."

The night breeze ruffled his raven black hair. "I was an infiltrator of a kind, once upon a time. I felt alone, trapped, ignorant. It scared the hell out of me."

"I didn't know." Mutter wasn't threatening _his_ family.

He shrugged. "Why would you?" He picked up a pebble, flung it into space and down toward the river. "Support gave you a very hard assignment. We need to know what Jones is up to. Find out. Let us know."

"What happened to exposing him to his bosses?"

"That might not be possible."

"So, you want me to rat him out to you instead. And then what?"

"Then we'll close in and nab him."

Something had spooked Support. But what? Turning Mutter in wouldn't save my family. He was a nut-job Empowered. Smart enough to put things together. He was the kind of murderer who wouldn't let being locked up stop him from getting revenge. And he knew where my family lived.

"Mat, do you understand?" Alex asked.

Yeah, I saw how things were.

"Yeah." Support didn't matter any more. I had to figure out a way to kill Mutter.

Alex smiled, looking relieved, dimples showing. "Let's get something to eat."

We walked back to the fence, where the tree branches hung low on either side.

I had to protect Ruth and the twins, no matter what happened.

# Chapter 15

Peep drove us to a farmhouse north of Vancouver. Keisha, Gus, and I rode in the back. Gus fidgeted all the way, twisting and rubbing his hands. Keisha didn't say much, aside from telling Gus to just sit. I couldn't draw her out. She was back to being sullen and pissed off again.

We got out and looked around. It was dawn. The farmhouse had storm covers on the windows. My phone vibrated. A message from Mutter. " _Go to the barn_." Creepy how he knew we were here. No sign of security cameras, but they had to be there.

I walked up to the barn. The sides were painted red. I rapped my knuckles on the surface, making a metallic sound. The door to the barn slid open.

We filed in, Gus beside me, still wringing his hands.

"Relax, Gus."

He wiped sweat from his face.

"Damn, you're scared of your own shadow, Blender," Keisha said.

She wore her leather jacket.

My own black leather coat was new—a thrift store find, the day after I had met with Alex. I wore steel-toed boots, cargo pants and a turtle neck.

Gus wore an army field jacket, a lot newer looking than his old one.

Mutter's Cadillac was parked inside the barn. No sign of Mutter. The four of us looked around.

The walls were lined with shelves filled with all sorts of canned stuff and plastic bins with snap-on lids. Against the back wall was a concrete walled room, with a steel door.

"What the hell?" Keisha said. "Freaking weird place for a room."

"It's unlocked," Peep said.

I turned the lever style handle. Inside, a metal stairway ran below ground, spiraling down lighthouse fashion.

At the bottom we entered a conference style room. Something poked at my memory. This reminded me of another place. A big oak table filled the middle of the room, with vinyl plush office chairs surrounding it. The overhead lights came on. A blue-clad figure sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled.

Mutter. He wore his sky blue Hero Council jumpsuit, that damn motorcycle-like helmet on the table. I tried to show no emotion. The man who had threatened my family faced me, smug, in charge, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Yet.

The door behind him opened and a blond woman in matching HC jumpsuit appeared.

I didn't recognize her.

Mutter gestured at the chairs. "Please, sit." We each picked a chair and sat. Except Keisha. She stayed standing by the door, her eyes wide, staring at the blond.

"You died."

"You _thought_ I had died." The woman took a chair next to Mutter and flashed a sly smile at me. "I'm April, the mystery member of the team." She giggled. I didn't see anything hilarious. No, what I saw was a crazy sidekick for our nut-job cell leader.

"The building collapsed with you inside," Keisha said. "A three-story building completely engulfed in flames."

Mutter stroked April's arm. "As you can see, she's very much alive."

April laughed. Held out her hand. A ball of fire burst into being above her palm, spinning. She waggled her fingers. The ball of fire became a pillar of flame that danced in the palm of her hand. It winked out and she held up her palm. "What's the point of being a flame warden if you can't save yourself from a burning building?" She laughed again. "Even you should have figured that one out, Keisha."

A "flame warden" was an old term from the early days, the revival of a pagan worship of fire casting Empowereds by normals. It figured April would buy into that. Some normals still worshipped the fire-casters.

"What gives?" I whispered to Gus.

He shrugged. "Before my time."

Peep cracked a grin. "I knew you had to be alive." He made like he was going to give her a hug.

She grimaced and waved him off. "Sure you did, Lyle."

"Why did you let me think you were dead, April?" Keisha's tone was menacing.

Mutter twiddled his fingers together and air stirred around Keisha.

I tugged on her arm. "Come on, that sounds like ancient history."

She pulled her arm away, still glaring at April. "It ain't."

The air stirred into a breeze.

April laughed and Keisha's scowl deepened.

"You could have told us."

"I knew," Mutter said. "As cell leader, it's my prerogative to decide who knows what, when."

"Sit down, Keisha!" I tugged at her arm again.

"Fine." She sat, still staring at April.

Time to change the subject, and fast, before Mutter decided he was tired of Keisha's attitude.

"What is this place?" I asked.

Mutter ran a fingertip across the conference table. "It used to be a survival shelter way back in the 1960s. I picked it up for a song." He laughed. "Well, not quite a song, but still, it was musical."

Gus shivered.

"And now it's a convenient place for the cell," I said. That was me, little miss obvious. Anything to get Mutter away from Gus.

He tilted his head. "Precisely. This is the perfect place for us to get ready for..." he paused theatrically, funneled his fingers. "The big job." His voice echoed in my ears.

"What sort of job, boss?" Peep asked, a satisfied grin on his face.

Scummy toady. That was our creepy Peepy.

"April has been doing research for us," Mutter said.

"Great," Keisha grumbled, staring hard at the table.

Mutter ignored her. "Research which, combined with recent discoveries, point to a lucrative target that will make us all rich and give the Scourge a huge boost in resources."

Peep polished his glasses. "I like the sound of that, boss. I'm a fan of being rich. Helping the organization is a plus."

Freaking kiss-up.

"The target is in Seattle." Mutter's fingers tapped out commands on some sort of input pad on the table in front of him.

A hologram flickered to life over the table and we saw a glass building on a hill facing the Puget Sound. Ruth had taken us to Seattle right before I ran away from home to join the Renegades. We went to Ivar's and the Space Needle. The memory hurt. I had hated going, wanted to hang with my friend Tanya instead, but Ruth had made me come.

I'd never seen anything quite like this building. It seemed to be made out of wood and very clear glass. Six stories high.

"The Sequoia complex."

The image zoomed in. There were redwoods inside the building, growing up and out of the roof.

"A biological research facility, which also happens to be a Support installation."

The image switched to video that showed a helicopter landing on a pad beside the building. A pair of Support operatives in their black suits emerged, followed by a familiar looking giant in blue.

My mouth was suddenly dry. That was Titan, the head of the Hero Council.

Mutter held up a hand. "Not to worry, he's not there at present."

Gus was squeezing his hands under the tabletop.

I had to say something. "Isn't this a bit like walking right into Special Corrections?" This wasn't a little covert Support office like the one in the Lansing building, this was high profile, out in the open.

Mutter looked disappointed. "You need to have faith in me, Mathilda."

"All right, but what exactly is in there that will make us all rich, and help the Scourge?"

"I'm glad you asked." The hologram became an animated 3D image of the building. Ground floor—glassed walls, huge redwood boles beside slender durasteel support pillars. Security desks, this was Support, so of course they had three on the ground floor. Elevators. There were like five basement levels. What was this place?

"How'd you get this video stuff?" Keisha asked.

Mutter put his finger against his lips.

"Figures," Keisha grumbled.

"Kai acquired intel on this facility at great personal risk," April piped up. The least you can do is afford him some courtesy and not interrupt."

"Kai? Kai? On an intimate basis with him are you?" Keisha sneered. "The rest of us have to call him Mutter."

Mutter pointed at Keisha. "That's enough." His voice boomed.

She winced and clapped her hands over her ears.

April lifted her chin and smiled.

"Now, if we may return to the briefing." Mutter scrolled the image. A warren of rooms, all identical corridors on levels 2-4. Reminded me of the secret Support facility I had woken up in after my fight with the gang. Level 5 was different. It looked like a pond between the redwood trunks. There was a little island covered in reeds in the middle of the pond. The image zoomed in.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. "What is that place?"

"It's where the treasure we seek is buried." The hologram froze on the little island, and Mutter leaned back in his chair. "There's a device embedded in a dirt island in the middle of that body of water that can alter plant biology."

"I don't understand. What is this doing in the middle of Seattle?"

Mutter gave me a sad, despairing look. "How unfortunate that you, of all people, don't appreciate a device that can alter plant biology. It can create new forms of plant life. It can create new forms of natural pharmacological drugs, performance boosters, perception boosters, plants that can alter awareness, release untold pleasure in our ape brains."

"So, this is really about stealing tech that could make super potent drugs?"

"In part. But don't limit your imagination. It is technology that can alter plant life into forms that can, in effect, do almost anything. Imagine plants that can synthesize materials, even precious metals."

"Impossible."

"Like I said, how sad that you don't see this."

Peep slapped his hands together. "Well, I appreciate it."

Mutter nodded. "Of course you would, Lyle. You're a man of vision after all."

Peep nodded enthusiastically. He didn't get it that Mutter mocked him.

Gus mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Gus?"

Gus jerked upright. "Ah, nothing."

Mutter leaned forward. "You doubt the value of this technology?"

"No, no. I'm sure it's a key to riches."

Something in Gus's expression told me he thought Mutter lied. For an instant I thought Mutter would see the same thing, and then things would get ugly real fast, but he just nodded again. Maybe he only saw fear. Fear was something Mutter basked in. Bastard ate it for breakfast.

Time to get back to playing the loyal follower. "Okay," I said. "So what is the plan?"

"The cell will come in the front door and remove the device."

"Just like that?" Keisha scowled.

"Just like that, Steel Witch," Mutter said, voice dripping with annoyance. He glanced at April. "April and I will be wearing HC jumpsuits, tagged as sanctioned Empowered from the European sector, the Spire in Dublin. The rest of you will be dressed as Support operatives, with appropriate identification."

This looked way too easy. Again. "What excuse do we have for being there?"

"It's classified," Mutter replied.

"So, you're not telling us."

He clapped. "Exactly. As Support operatives, your job will simply be to escort us, to follow my orders and April's. Peep will be on lookout. You and Keisha will be extraction."

"What about me?" Gus's voice trembled.

"Why, Blender, you'll be our reserve. Ready to act as needed. I will brief you later on that." That didn't make any sense. Gus's power made him a great thief.

"I don't get it. Why not send Gus in?"

April and Mutter laughed, and even Keisha shook her head in disbelief. Gus stared at his hands.

Mutter stroked the tabletop. "He's better in reserve." Mutter and his damn chess game. Reserves, he loved his reserves. Just like at the Lansing Building, only then it was me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "You're telling us this is a cakewalk. That all we've got to do is walk in the front door, check all the boxes, and walk out with some super tech that is apparently why this place exists. Won't that set off like a million alarms?"

Mutter shook his head. "It's not why it exists. This tech is a legacy item."

"Legacy item?" Keisha and I asked together.

Mutter looked over at April. "I love it when they speak in stereo." She snickered.

That didn't make any sense. "If this tech is so awesome, why is it some sort of museum piece?"

"There is all sorts of tech that the powers that be have chosen not to develop," Mutter said, always the guy with the secret.

Whatever. This whole thing smelled like a setup. Again.

He moved on. "Now, let's go over the timetable."

Mutter ran us through his plan. It really did sound like a cakewalk. All the while, I glimpsed Gus nervously rubbing his hands under the table.

He glanced at me. He looked so very afraid.

After the briefing Mutter and April took us to our rooms in the farmhouse, then they headed back to the basement, no doubt to have a little confab of their own.

Our bedrooms all had bars on the windows.

I dropped my duffel bag on my narrow bed and called out to Keisha, whose room was across the hall.

"Hey, can you come here?"

"One minute," came the answer. A far cry from even a week ago, when she seemed to want nothing more than to take my head off.

She tramped into my room. "You want to talk?" Keisha asked me.

"Close the door, behind you."

She sat beside me on the narrow bed.

"We're in the shit," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah, we are. Listen," I began.

She cut me off. "No, let me say my piece first." She looked at her hands. "I've been thinking lately. A lot." She twisted her fingers, glanced over at me, suddenly looking vulnerable. "You saved my life. Yeah, sure, you nearly killed me, but I did start it. I never gave you a chance. I was jealous of you and afraid."

"You afraid of me?"

She gave me a sidelong glance, followed by a rueful laugh. "Girl, don't you know it." She looked at her hands again. "You'd been in another gang, survived the Hero Council taking your old outfit down, and spent five years in Special Corrections. Yeah, I was a little afraid.

"I'm sorry, too," I said. "I'd rather be your friend than your enemy, Keisha."

She rubbed at her eye. "Me, too."

No, we didn't hug, but for the first time I felt like maybe we really could be friends.

We sat together, sharing silence for a bit. Finally, I spoke up. "So," I whispered. "Who is this back from the dead April person?"

"A real bitch. She used to be a sanctioned Empowered, you know, one of those holier than us Hero Council Heroes, only she went over to the dark side when Halo joined the Scourge."

David Drake, twin brother of Daniel. Both men were super charismatic types. Wouldn't be hard to see how April might follow him into the Scourge.

"When did you meet her?" I asked.

"She joined the cell a few years ago."

"Was Mutter always in charge?"

"No, there was this woman named Alvarez. She never gave us her first name, nor a nickname. She was a speedster."

I'd never seen a speedster.

"How fast?"

Keisha shook her head sadly. "Not fast enough."

"What happened?"

"Alvarez and Little Miss Flame Warden hit a bank while me, Peep, and Mutter were outside, covering for when the police showed up. Something went wrong, the police got there faster than we expected, and security was on the alert. April set the building on fire, that's what she said over the radio. But we had an HC strike team coming down on us. It was all we could do to get away.

"Alvarez and April died in that inferno, along with a bunch of bank security. Mutter took over the cell after that."

So, Alvarez and April die, Mutter becomes the new leader, only April isn't really dead. Yeah, that was suspicious. But Keisha must have considered that. If not, I wasn't about to get her riled up.

Keisha went on. "I liked Alvarez—she ran a good operation. She kept us up to speed on what the Inner Circle wanted, didn't treat us like mushrooms."

I rubbed my neck, looked out the window. "Sucks."

We sat there for a while longer, just sharing the companionship.

I don't know if Keisha and I were friends, but I hadn't felt this close to someone since Lenore in Special Corrections, and prison friendships weren't the same thing. _Trust no one all the way, not even me_ , Leonore used to say.

We had an early dinner. Mutter said we had a day or so before the job. None of us were to leave, nor make any calls. We were basically prisoners in that damn farmhouse.

Mutter made us turn in our phones, but I still had a plastic, stealth Support burner phone in a hidden compartment in my duffle bag.

Gus cornered me on the stairs, appearing out of nowhere like he could do. "We need to talk, Mat."

I jumped when he did his unblending act. "Geez, Gus, do you have to appear like that here?"

He was being very melodramatic, like a gangster with a secret, deadly serious. "Let's go outside."

"Mutter's going to get suspicious if he sees us going off to chat, don't you think?"

"Okay. I'll meet you down by the river in fifteen."

I didn't recognize this version of Gus. He acted so determined, so sure of himself. Surprised me.

I needed to go outside without making anyone else suspicious.

Peep was in the kitchen, drinking beer, his special specs on the table in front of him. He seemed shrunken without the glasses on. l didn't want him looking through my eyes to see Gus, but I wouldn't put it past the creep.

He looked up as I stomped into the kitchen, heading to the back door.

The clock above the stove said 8:06. It was night now, but as long as a peeper could see a person good enough to pick them out, they could see out of their eyes. Tanya had been able to read lips; I was sure Peep could, too.

"Where are you going?" Peep asked.

"Outside. I need some air."

"You tell Mutter?" He stared at his mostly empty beer.

"I don't want to be grilled, Peep. I just need a walk."

"Fine."

I put my hand on the doorknob, turned back. Peep took a swig from his beer, drained the last of it.

Then it hit me. He was afraid. Peep, loyal follower, mister creepy, was frightened.

He pushed back his chair, went to the fridge, opened another beer, and took a long swallow, ignoring me. He wasn't going to be following me and trying to sneak a peep.

The night felt ominous as I walked down the grassy slope to the river. Lights from some sort of industrial facility shone on the Oregon side of the river. A bird called in a tree nearby, and then there was an answering call from an island in the river. I sensed willow trees, half submerged, on that island.

I reached the water's edge, closed my eyes, and let the quiet hum of the willows wash over me. All they knew was the water, the water-filled soil, and the water's comings and goings. The willows' world was a little island in the mighty Columbia. The trees were ignorant of the factory or whatever it was across the river, and the Interstate on the ridge a half mile behind me, beyond the farmhouse and Mutter's secret underground villain lair.

I knew how the willows felt.

So much of this world I didn't know. "The miracle of the powers" some said of our powers. Or the curse. Where did it come from? God? The Devil? Honestly I had never thought much about it. _The great mystery of our time,_ the TV liked to call it. Even the Professor had said our powers "defied scientific explanation." Even we Empowered were in the dark about where our powers had come from.

A sudden splash and swearing jolted me.

"Gus?" I whispered. Or had Peep decided to follow me down to the river?

"Yeah." Gus appeared beside a flat rock the size of a coffee table, bent down and wiped his legs. "I didn't see that rock." He kicked the flat rock, cursed it.

"It's just a rock." I walked over to a tree stump and perched on it, hugging myself for warmth. The night had turned out to be colder than I thought.

I heard him take in a deep breath, like he was working himself up to something.

I shifted on the stump, rubbed my arms. Why hadn't I thought to bring my jacket?

The silence drew out until I itched to end it.

"Gus, what is it?"

"We both work for the same people." He blurted the words.

"Excuse me. The world seemed to tilt.

"Support."

I swallowed. "I don't know what you're talking about, dude."

"Yes you do."

How did he--? "This one of Mutter's loyalty tests, Gus?"

He laughed bitterly. "He'd pull that kind of shit, wouldn't he? But he's not, this time." He tapped his chest. "I'm"—he paused. "I'm an informant for Winterfield and Sanchez. I'm why you were selected."

"Selected?"

The bitter laugh again. "Yeah. I was caught about two years after you went to Special Corrections—I'd been stealing food from restaurants, and one night, just after snagging dinner from an Italian place, Support hit me with sonics and a stunner. Can't hide from that. I woke up in some secret underground facility. They gave me a choice. Prison for life or work for them."

The same damn choice they'd given me. Bastards.

_Those in the know control the ignorant._

"So you took the offer."

"Yeah, weasel Gus, right? What choice did I have?"

Gus, the most fearful person I'd ever known in my life, getting told to infiltrate the Scourge.

"They must have had info on the Scourge cell."

"It took me a long time to find the cell, but I finally did, and approached Alvarez. If it had been Mutter, I don't think I'd have had a chance. The man is way too suspicious."

"Yeah. Then what?"

"I committed crimes for the cell and the Scourge. Alvarez was killed. We thought Flame," he paused, "I mean April, died too. Mutter took over."

I jumped up. "Damn Winterfield," I said, and my voice was a harsh rasp. "Mushrooms, being fed shit, that's all we've been to him."

"I couldn't tell you, Mat. I was ordered not to. And I was afraid."

I clenched my jaw so hard my face started to hurt, and my fingers dug into my thighs.

Alex—that flash of recognition on Gus's face when we brought Keisha to the safe house, that should have tipped me off.

I grabbed him by the shoulders. "So, you reported on me?" Rage poured through me like lava.

"I'm, I'm sorry Mat. I had to."

Damn those two men. They had me so fingered. Their favorite mushroom.

I shoved him away. "Why tell me now, Gus? Why break your silence? You've been a good little spy for Winterfield and Alex."

He stumbled and fell.

My shoulders sagged. Just like that, my anger was gone. I just felt cold and empty inside.

"Maybe I deserved that, Mat," Gus said. He picked himself up, holding his left wrist.

A stab of guilt ran through me but I wasn't going to apologize.

"Why tell me now?" I repeated.

"Because Mutter's lying about the target."

"I knew it smelled wrong. Bullshit about tech that could alter plants."

"That's just it, Mat, the tech _can_ alter plants."

"So it's not about the tech?"

"It is about the tech, just not the way Mutter spun it. The device we're supposed to steal _amplifies_ an Empowered's ability. Makes a power way stronger and more potent. So, yeah, if you had the Amplifier, it would amplify your plant abilities, let you create new species, change the biology. You name it. You'd almost be like a god."

That was a horrible thought. A device that could boost an Empowered. Turn you into a super human of super humans. Shit. I didn't want to think about Mutter or April with that kind of power. Hell, I didn't want to think about _me_ with that kind of power. No one should have it.

Steam rose from the factory across the river, disappeared into the black night.

"You'd be invisible if you used it, wouldn't you? Do you wear this amplifier whatever it is thing?"

"Yeah. Some kind of harness." He rubbed the side of his face. "Mutter wants it for himself. I think he could create tornadoes or even worse."

"Why isn't this better guarded?"

"Because Support doesn't know they have it."

He stepped close, dared to put his hand on my shoulder. "I spied on Mutter and April after the Lansing Building heist. They used that as cover to go after Van Cleeve, because he'd been involved in a secret power boosting project for the Hero Council, a long time ago."

"The Amplifiers."

"They were supposed to be destroyed, but for some reason Van Cleeve arranged to have two kept intact and hidden inside Support. They were hidden at the bottom of this Sequoia complex. A long time ago."

The Professor told me once that the best way to lie is to hide it inside the truth. That's what Mutter had done. What Van Cleeve had done.

Mutter would be worse than just dangerous if he had that thing. "And he needed to keep the Scourge in the dark."

Gus exhaled sharply. "This is his plan. For him only."

Winterfield and Alex would want to know, but if they knew, they might stop it. I needed my freedom. If Mutter was captured, my family would be in his sights.

"Okay, so now we know," I said.

"We need to leave, Mat."

"What? No." No way I'd leave now. I couldn't let that bastard have an amplifier. He'd become king of the world.

"We have to," he insisted. "Mutter's going to kill us all."

"No, if we leave, he'll come after us." Or come after my family.

"It's the only way to survive.

"Make a beeline to Support, is that it?"

He leaned in close to me. "Yes! Let them nab the guy before he could get his hands on the amplifier." He looked me pleadingly.

But that would blow any chance I had of worming my way into the Inner Circle. By the terms of my assignment, I would have failed. Back to prison for me. And, like I said, Mutter could still hurt my family from Special Corrections. No, I needed to end this. Permanently.

"I'm staying." I crossed my arms.

"But Support needs to be told about his plan."

I shook my head. "That's not my assignment, Gus."

He shook his head. "What? What are you up to, if it isn't to spy?"

Funny. Gus wasn't thinking. Now that I knew he was Support's informant in Mutter's cell, Winterfield's plan was even more obvious—of course I was supposed to find a way to get to the Inner Circle, otherwise why did Support need me?

But Support hadn't told _him_. Once a mushroom, always a mushroom.

I pulled Gus close, whispered in his ear. "This goes further than just ratting Mutter out." If I wanted, I could tell Support. I had the burner phone, I could use it.

"Damn it, Mat, we are in the shit now."

"We've been in the shit for a long time now, Gus."

If he had a burner phone of his own, I was screwed. But he hadn't said anything, and I wasn't going to ask him and tip him off that I had one.

He begged me again, but I wouldn't budge. He disappeared.

I called out, but there was no answer. Fine. I had to do this.

# Chapter 16

A cyclone invaded my nightmares. I stood on one of the bridges over the Willamette. The sky was a bright blue, blue as could be with the sun shining down. And then the winds began to blow and blow. Buildings swayed. Cars slammed together and smashed into guardrails. The bridges swayed. The wind's howl became a scream. The hurricane winds pulled trees from the ground and hurled them into high-rise buildings.

I thought I heard someone sobbing, wailing tearful pleas amid the raging storm, but I couldn't make out who it was. I slept.

Someone was shaking me. I tried to stay asleep but they kept shaking me.

"Mat." The voice was an urgent whisper.

I groaned. "What is it?"

Keisha knelt beside my bed. It was still night. "Mutter wants us down in the bunker."

"At this hour?" I sat up. "What time is it?"

"Too damn early."

I rubbed my eyes. "Don't we get to eat breakfast first?" This is where the hurry began, and the run up to Seattle.

"After." She gripped my arm. "Listen, I can't find Gus."

My empty stomach twisted. He had done it. Gus had taken off. "He's not in his room?"

"That was the first place I checked. He's not hanging out."

"Maybe he's just hiding. Blending."

"I don't think so. You know he can't keep it up for more than a little while."

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Mutter's going to..." I stopped. Closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about that. "Do something nasty when he finds out," I finished.

I got up and went down to the bunker.

Our boots on the metal stairs sounded like the echo of doom all the way down. Gus had run for it. God damn him. I tried to force myself to calm down. Thinking about how Mutter would react when he learned Gus was gone made me jumpy, which made me angry.

I stomped into the briefing room with Keisha trailing behind me.

Peep, April, and Mutter waited around the table. Mutter was tapping his fingers on the tabletop. He wore that styling undertaker black suit of his, a satisfied smile on his smug face.

"Nice of you to join us," he said. He sounded pleased with himself.

We sat.

Mutter raised an eyebrow. "Where is Blender?"

"I couldn't find him," Keisha said. I could see she was fighting to stay calm. I was doing the same.

"Oh, really?" Mutter pursed his lips. He sighed, and the air around us sighed in reply. "Ah, well. Little men have a bad habit of getting lost. Well, we won't wait on him."

"Aren't you concerned?" I asked him. "We need Gus."

"No, we need people who are dedicated and focused. Gus is neither. He is a useful piece to have in reserve, but is not essential to the plan at all."

I didn't get Mutter shrugging off Gus's absence. "But we don't know where he went?"

"He no longer matters." That was the end of it. Just like that. It was crazy, but I sure wasn't going to push it.

Mutter ran us through the operation again. Keisha would need to cut through at least one door in the lower levels, and I needed to move a tree with my power. A redwood.

"Trees are tough," I said. "They take a lot of energy to control."

Mutter smiled thinly at this. "I have faith in you," he said. April smirked at me.

Bitch.

He ran us through the timetable. April had brought a black bag filled with Support badges, radios, stunners, all kinds of gear. How the hell did they get these items? Support kept them under lock and key.

"These the real deal?" I asked her.

"I wouldn't be wasting your time, Vine, if they weren't."

Vine. Very funny. Not even Keisha called me that anymore.

"The name's Mat." I hefted the stunner. It was light in my hand. Pointed it at April. "Shall I test it?"

Her sneer became a grimace. "Amusing."

"Children, please, no fighting," Mutter said. "Time for breakfast. You are dismissed."

"You've already eaten?" I asked.

"Don't worry about us," Mutter said, including April with a sweep of his arm.

Peep followed Keisha and me up to the farmhouse.

"You see Gus?" I asked him as we entered the kitchen, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible.

"No. Not since dinner last night."

"You think he's run off?"

He shrugged. "Possibly. He's always been unstable."

Coming from Creepy Peep that was ironic. "You're not worried?"

"What? About him." He snorted. "Of course not. He's weak. More risky if he's around."

I didn't get that attitude. Gus could have been an assassin. Okay he was a spy and a thief, but being practically invisible was a huge advantage

Still worried about what might have happened to Gus, I couldn't eat. Keisha just picked at her food.

"Children, you need to eat." Mutter stood in the doorway. "You'll need your strength later today." My heart raced.

Keisha and I forced ourselves to eat.

He watched us for a while, then left.

Peep got up and went after him, leaving Keisha and me to clean up.

That would have pissed me off before, but I couldn't stop thinking about Gus.

"I just don't get him, taking off like that," I said to Keisha after we'd finished.

She gave me a long, searching look. "Girl, really? This is Blender we're talking about. The weasel, that's what you call him, right? He runs off like all weasels."

She went upstairs, leaving me staring out the back door window at the river.

I wandered the grounds, went back down to the river. A meadowlark sat in a willow branch out on the half-submerged island, singing a happy song. I only half listened.

If Gus had run back to Support, now would be about when they would swoop down on us. My mission would be over before I'd accomplished it.

I sat there, brooding. Time passed. The meadowlark flew off. A big freighter went by out on the river. No Support. I went back up to the house.

Peep told me Mutter wanted me down below.

Mutter had me try on a Support "men in black" outfit. "Needs to be taken in a bit," he observed. "I can manage that."

I must have looked surprised. "A bespoke suit needs a good tailor," he said. Cryptic as all hell to me. He took my measurements. Another thing to throw in the basket of the bizarre: Mutter the tailor.

Boots echoed on the stairs. I tensed. Support?

Keisha appeared, sheepish. "Sorry I'm late."

"For once, your timing is perfect, Steel Witch," Mutter said. He turned back to me. "You can go."

Keisha rolled her eyes at me as we passed each other.

Back upstairs I wandered around the barn. I was restless. Part of me couldn't believe Gus had just run like that. Maybe he was hiding someplace in the barn. There was no sign of April—she was probably in her quarters below, and Peep was still back at the farmhouse. This was the perfect time to poke around. Other than the van, the floor of the barn was empty. But a ladder went up to a loft area, which was now some kind of office.

Filing cabinets lined one wall, drawers open and papers scattered over the floor. Total mess. Weird. Records of some kind I guess, but I didn't stop to look. I felt like I was walking in a minefield, and at any moment, the room would explode around me. There was a door at the far end. It was unlocked.

Inside the room was dark. There was a shit stink. I fumbled around for a light switch. My fingers found the switch, and flipped the lights on. The room was filled with survival gear, rope, pallets of water bottles, lots of plastic sheeting. A plastic tarp hung on the far wall.

The smell got stronger as I neared the tarp, making my eyes water.

I hesitated. I definitely smelled shit, mingled with the coppery tang of blood.

My fingers trembled as I pulled back one corner of the plastic sheet, on the top right.

Blood-soaked, greasy black hair.

My breath froze.

I pulled the tarp down further.

Tie-down cords lashed Gus to the cement wall, arms out, like he had been crucified. His eyes—one was gone, leaving only a bloody socket, the other was half out. His mouth hung slack, too slack. His jaw had been broken. Dried blood caked his face and neck. It was like he had exploded from within.

His skin was spiderwebbed with red veins. He _had_ exploded from within, as though someone had filled him with air.

Mutter.

Gus's fingernails had left bloody gouges in his own palms.

I collapsed to my knees, squeezed my eyes shut, but couldn't get the image of Gus out of my head, his eyes staring at nothing, dead. Someone moaned softly. It was me.

I whimpered. Rocked back and forth.

Bastard Mutter had killed him. Tortured him to death.

"Oh, Gus," I whispered. "You didn't run away. You stayed." Guilt washed over me. If only he had run off. But he stayed. If only I'd listened and gone with him, he'd be alive now. But he'd stayed and been murdered.

Mutter had had the balls to sit there and ask us what had happened to Blender. To go on and say that Gus's absence didn't matter. Murdering bastard. He'd probably been laughing inside at his sick joke. Sure, Gus didn't matter now, he was dead, killed by our lunatic leader.

It must have been like pulling the wings off a fly for Mutter. My chest tightened. Damn Mutter.

I got up and covered Gus. I'd have to tell Winterfield about him, have him collected, so he could be given a decent burial somewhere. Or was it a cremation? Gus had never told me what he wanted.

I dried my eyes.

I couldn't cry now. Crying was weakness, and weakness would mean death. I couldn't be afraid, either, it would reveal me. And I couldn't show my anger. I forced my fingers to unclench. Took a deep breath. The smell of Gus's shit made me sick. I left the room and closed the door behind me. Took another breath. I felt my anger inside me, like a volcano about to explode. I couldn't do that. Not now.

I snuck back to my room and took a long shower, but I couldn't wash the smell away. There was a flower in my room, an African violet, dying in its little pot. I watered it and stroked its leaves with my finger. My emotions were a roiling mess. If I sent my power into the flower, I might kill it.

But I had to do something. I brushed at it gently, like the African violet was made of the thinnest paper and might tear or crumple if I pressed too much into it. The flower swayed, petals opening. I hoped it was enough.

I didn't have much time.

I went back down to the river once more, my one-shot cell phone in my coat pocket. The wind rustled the grass along the shoreline, a natural breeze without Empowered intervention.

The Meadowlark was gone and the willow trees shivered in the breeze, buds eager to blossom.

My hand closed on the phone in my pocket. I couldn't push the image of Gus out of my mind, Christ-like in death, his skin a patchwork of bruises and dried blood.

One call.

One call was all the phone would give me.

I wondered how Ruth was, how sick she was today, and what the twins were doing.

Would Winterfield honor our agreement? Would Support say I'd done my job if I called them in now? I didn't know. Maybe yes. Maybe no.

Would that be the right thing to do?

I thumbed the phone, dialed.

Put it to my ear, closed my eyes, and waited for the answer.

"Hello?" Ella said.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Ella, it's me, big sis."

"Mat!" Concern filled her voice. "Where are you?"

"I can't say right now."

"That man hasn't come back," she said.

I tucked my head, hunched over. If I had anything to say about it, he never would again.

"I am glad to hear that." I said. "How's Ruth?"

The sound of a door opening and a car engine.

"I'm outside now, on the porch," Ella said. "Ruth isn't doing so well, but she acts like everything is fine. You know Grandma."

Yeah, that sounded just like Ruth. "How's Ava?"

"She's still really mad at you."

"I'm sorry," I said. I wiped my eyes. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Mat, I know you care about us."

"Thanks."

"No," she said, more insistent. "I mean it, I know you really, really care about us, and whatever you are doing is to help us out."

I dabbed my eyes. "That means a lot."

"I wanted to tell you that. You must be in a bad place by the way you sound. I wanted you to know we all care about you. Even Ava. We're worried. But I also wanted to let you know I love you, and love you even more for trying to take care of us."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I love you, too," I said. "All of you."

"I know. Grandma and Ava do, too, really."

Her voice got small.

"Big sis?"

"Yes?"

"Be strong. We're thinking of you, always."

The horror of Gus's death was still with me, but I felt my little sister's love and concern, and suddenly, I felt lighter.

"I'll call again as soon as I can," I said when I was able to speak again.

"Take care, big sis."

"You, too, little sis."

I thumbed the phone off. The display went red, then black. I couldn't turn it on again.

I pulled my arm back, threw the phone as far as I could out into the river. It spun as it hurtled through the air, splashed fifty yards out, and vanished into the dark water.

# Chapter 17

"Hey!" Keisha's angry shout snapped me out of my brooding.

I'd been on the riverbank for maybe fifteen minutes since calling Ella, just staring at the river, trying to keep the rage inside me from exploding.

Keisha ran down the grassy hill towards me. Her black leather coat billowed around her like the wings of some giant bird. She slipped and fell, got back up. She reached me, breathing hard.

"Did you know?" She gasped, bent over, took in huge gulps of air. "Mutter says Gus is dead." She put a hand on my arm as she struggled to stop gasping.

"Gus took off," I said. It sounded lame, even to my ears.

She straightened up. "So, he did split?" Her chest heaved.

I swallowed. Damn this was hard. "Once a weasel, always a weasel." If she found out Mutter had killed him, she would try to kill him here. But not now. He might be expecting it. And we wouldn't have him red-handed, stealing the amplifier, so I could show the Scourge that he had betrayed them. Yeah, that was a long shot, but what choice did I have? Either way, it had to be when he wasn't expecting it. In the middle of the Sequoia job. Not here where he was strong and had April watching his back.

Her eyes narrowed. "The lying sack of shit, Mutter, he said Gus is dead. To my face. Implied he killed him."

I pulled away from Keisha. I had enough trouble keeping myself from trying to murder the monster. Restraining Keisha would be a tall order if she knew the truth.

"What happened?"

"I found him down in the bunker with April, by the rooms they say are off-limits to the rest of us. Told him I couldn't find Gus; he must have run off." She scowled. "You know what that fucker did? He laughed. Said something like, "Blender should have been so lucky." I asked what he meant by that, and he told me Gus was dead, that he was unreliable." She stomped her foot. "You only say shit like that if you did it."

"He's lying."

"Why would he?"

"He's trying to scare you."

"We next?"

"That's what he wants us to think."

The air crackled. The dirt began to vibrate and smoke. Tiny bits of metal, red-hot, floated around her outstretched hand. She flicked a finger and the bits came together like potter's clay, spun, formed a long, slender barbed nail. "He's not going to scare me," Keisha said.

More metal appeared.

"Just take a deep breath," I told her. She needed to calm down now. My own anger still roiled inside me.

She shook her head. "Fucker can't intimidate me."

Messing with people's head was what Mutter really loved to do.

"Just ignore him."

Two nails now, spinning in the air.

"I don't think he's lying." She gave me a hard look. Her scowl deepened. "Where is Gus?"

"He left."

"Without saying anything?"

I shrugged.

She stretched out her palm, and the nails stopped spinning, dropped into her open hand.

"Really?"

"You know Gus," I said.

"Yeah, I do. He's a weasel, but he'd tell one of us, me or you. Maybe both. If he was that scared, he'd have tried to get us to leave with him." She leaned in close. "I think you are lying."

"No."

"He is dead!"

She whipped around, and the two nails hurled across the river into the nearer willow on the half-submerged island. The tree's shriek filled my mind and I clutched at my head.

"Why are you lying to me!" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

I shoved her back. "Because I'm trying to save our asses."

She swung at me, her fist smashed my jaw, and I went down.

I swept my legs around and knocked her on her ass. She sat up just as I tackled her and we slammed into the ground. We wrestled in the dirt. I finally managed to get on top of her and pin her arms to ground.

"I don't want you to die," I said in her ear.

She froze. "Why the hell would you care?"

I held her against the ground. "Because I do. Because, like it or not, Keisha, we're friends, and friends look out for each other."

"But why would he kill Gus?" She shoved at me. "Damn it, why?"

This was it. It was all in or nothing at all now.

"Because Gus found out what Mutter is really up to."

She blinked.

"Listen," I whispered. "Gus came to me and said Mutter was after something called an amplifier, a piece of tech that boosts an Empowered's abilities."

"Does the Scourge know about this?"

I sat up, rolled off her, and helped her sit up. "No, and Mutter wants to keep it that way."

"We need to tell them then. Now."

I shook my head. "How are we going to reach them? Do you have a number we can call? I sure as hell don't. Do you see any way other than that medallion thing Mutter keeps around his neck?"

"I still want to kill that asshole," she growled.

"So do I," I whispered.

I got to my feet. "But we have to do this right. We have to catch him red-handed, kill him and then contact the Scourge."

Keisha brushed herself off, gave me a hard look. "So, we go through with this crazy-assed plan, and then, when the time is right, we take him and April down?"

"Yeah, just like that."

"You give me the signal—shout "For Gus," and I'll kill that fucker deader than dead. April, too."

"For Gus," I said.

# Chapter 18

The helicopter banked over Puget Sound, rotors whirring. The waters sparkled below us, the wakes from boats gleaming white. I leaned into my harness. My stomach lurched and I thought I was going to throw up. Keisha was beside me, hands clutching her armrests. Peep sat behind us, humming. Crazy creep. April piloted the copter while Mutter lounged in the copilot's seat. He acted like he was sightseeing rather than leading us into the dragon's den, pointing out the Space Needle and other Seattle landmarks.

We flew past a white surveillance blimp. That was a bad sign.

There was a worse one below us. A huge aircraft carrier floated in the Sound, the United Nations flag flying above her bridge alongside the gold Hero Council banner. Black helicopters and jets lined her flight deck.

I craned my head around as we passed in time to see a blue streak land on the deck. An Empowered. A moment later another landed, this one in bulky armor. Dynamo-- Karl Cooper of the Hero Council's First Team. The name Protector was painted in huge white letters on the far side of the ship's superstructure.

We were in deep trouble. "First Team's here," I told the others.

Keisha shot me a worried look. "Damn it," she said.

"Not to worry," Mutter said, as if that were the end of it.

First Team had four members. It was first among the North American sanctioned Empowered. Other teams had usually had three Empowered. First Team always had four.

I closed my eyes. I wouldn't be getting out of this one alive.

The Space Needle rose off to our left, an HC pennant flying beside the US and Washington State Flags.

Keisha and Peep saw it, too. I heard Keisha swear under her breath.

"We have to get out of here," Peep said. "Seattle is crawling with sanctioned Empowered."

"Like I said, all under control." Something in the way he said the words stood my hair on end. He seemed happy that the Hero Council was here in force.

"But they'll hit us like God's hammer," Peep yelled over the rotor's whine.

Just like when the Hero Council had come down on the Renegades.

"Exactly," Mutter said, pleased with himself.

"I didn't sign up for suicide." Peep was having a rare moment of reluctance.

"Not to worry, my friend," Mutter replied. "You didn't. Like I said, this is all under control."

Mutter _wanted_ the Hero Council to be here.

We flew over the Sequoia building and landed on the helicopter pad next to the building. Inside the Sequoia a half-dozen redwoods rose, green giants towering two hundred feet above the ground.

Keisha squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled under her breath.

I leaned over as the helicopter approached the landing pad.

"Hang tough." I squeezed her shoulder.

She nodded.

My heart hammered in my chest. I needed to follow my own words.

The black Support two-piece suit was tailored for me, just like Mutter had said it would be. I carried a standard issue thin-line briefcase, Support wrist comm, comp-pad, and wore fake Super Shades. That's what Mutter called them when he'd handed them out, sneering at his own words.

I carried a mini-stunner holstered inside my suit. The suit made me feel even more awkward--I'd never worn one before.

Keisha and Peep dressed the same, were equipped the same, Peep had given up his creep glasses for the Super Shades, his eyes hidden behind the mirrored lenses just as ours were.

April and Mutter were in their blue Hero Council jumpsuits. April wore her helmet but Mutter left his in the helicopter

Seemed like a dead giveaway to me, but Mutter brushed aside my concern.

"Suit ID," he said. "And we're in the database. Facility security will recognize me as sanctioned."

Incredible. I couldn't imagine how Mutter had managed to get entries for him and April into Support's computer system. If he was lying, this was going to be a very short job.

We walked in a wedge, Mutter and April in the front, me behind Mutter's right, Keisha behind April's left, and Peep behind us.

The surveillance blimp was overhead. A blue streak hurled up from the Sound and entered the observation blister in the blimp's belly.

Great, we were going to be filmed in full color from all angles when they caught us. Or killed us.

April flashed an ID badge at the first checkpoint, outside the building. Security was a two-person team behind a standing console with a Clearplex bullet screen, a man and a woman, both in standard Support black two-piece suits like me, wearing Super Shades and, no-doubt, holstered stunners inside their suits.

The woman's hands worked the console while her partner held up a scanner. April waved the badge in front of it.

There was a beep and a green light flashed on the front of the console.

"You're good to go, ma'am," the woman said. She did it for each of us.

"Okay, thanks," the guy said. Waved us past.

The next checkpoint was at the entrance to the building itself. It had two doors, like an airlock.

The six-story building's exterior was all Clearplex, a very transparent glass that almost looked as if it wasn't there.

Twenty feet from the door I began to feel the redwoods. At first it felt like a tremor, but as we stepped closer, the tremor became a rumble and that, in turn, became a deep throated wordless chorus, a song to the sun and air, pulling me out of myself.

"Mat!" Keisha hissed. "What are you doing?"

Mutter and April looked back at me from the entrance. Mutter frowned. April wore her helmet, so her face was hidden.

The low, rumbling song of the redwoods kept pulling at me. My awareness soared up to the crown of the nearest tree. All around me life sang.

"Agent!" I heard Mutter say. I blinked. I was standing still. People were starting to stare.

"Mat!" Keisha doubled down on Mutter's insistence.

"I'm okay," I hissed back at her. We marched at the double to reach Mutter and April.

"There was a problem with my lens array, but the system reset," I said to Keisha in a loud voice.

Mutter didn't miss a beat. "Very good, agent. We need to have you on top of your game. That means using all the tools at your disposal."

Yeah, I caught his emphasis.

He pivoted smartly and placed his palm against a hand print pad. He'd mentioned those in the briefing, but I'd never seen one before, not even in Special Corrections. More new tech.

Drone cameras floated over to watch us.

The door chimed, opened with a swishing sound and sealed behind us. We had to walk between banks of scanning equipment and stop.

Seemed like we had to wait forever. The trees pulled at me again and I had to force myself to resist them.

Keisha's left hand tapped against her leg. Peep studied his hands. Wouldn't do for him to try his power on someone inside now, and then miss a cue to get moving. That would be a dead giveaway. Mutter was talking to April in a low voice. She listened and nodded at his words. Quite the act those two had going.

The door chimed, and slid open. The air inside felt like it did after a rainstorm. My spirits lifted and my feet seemed lighter as we walked into the dragon's den.

Mutter went to the nearest security station, and presented his badge.

The Support operative regarded Mutter coolly.

"Sir, I need an admittance code."

"Of course," Mutter said smoothly. He handed over a data chip. The agent inserted it into a reader.

The agent's eyes narrowed with the look of a man who was suddenly not seeing what he's supposed to see. "That's odd," he said. "Hey, Phelps, can you come over here?" Another agent came over, her face all business.

"What is it, Felix?" the other agent asked.

"I don't know, the security systems suddenly went offline." He looked confused.

Alarms suddenly shrieked. Keisha, Peep and I jumped at the sound, looked frantically around. Agents began drawing weapons, looking around for whatever had tripped the alarm. The red lights blinked on over the airlock-like entrance.

A robotic sounding voice boomed over the intercom. "Building is in lockdown mode, repeat, building is in lockdown mode." Great, we were locked inside.

Mutter raised his hand to his mouth. Agent Felix looked confused. Agent Felix and his partner reached for their stunners.

Mutter was Mister Cool as chaos erupted around him.

He pinched his fingertips around his mouth, sucked in air. Felix clutched his throat, eyes wide, flailed his arms and dropped his stunner. Mutter's strangle move.

The other agent drew her stunner.

"Not so fast," April said mildly, as if she were ordering coffee. Flame exploded from her hands and engulfed the other woman, who screamed in agony. The stink of charring flesh and burnt blood clogged the air. I wanted to vomit but somehow managed to not. Keisha's face went hard, while Peep was looking away.

More agents rushed toward us.

Mutter chopped the air. There was an ear shattering boom and Support agents rushing us went flying backwards like bowling pins to crash into the far wall.

I heard a humming sound and dropped to the floor. Stunners. Flames roared past me, followed by more screams. I couldn't look. The firing stopped.

Mutter reached down, and flipped a switch on the console.

"Interior door override initiated," the robotic voice boomed.

Elevator doors opened in the central "stack" in front of us.

"Move!" Mutter's voice was finally urgent.

Keisha stood frozen. I grabbed her arm. "Come on!"

She shook herself and broke into a run.

A flash of movement at the edge of my vision. I looked up. A thousand feet overhead and to the east, the blimp pivoted to face in our direction. Two figures appeared and dove toward us.

We reached the elevators.

The doors closed as something armored slammed into the Clearplex windows. The building shuddered. Incredibly the glass flexed but didn't shatter.

Mutter laughed as the elevator doors closed. "Blocked by their own defenses."

"We're screwed!" Keisha was wild-eyed. "They've got us trapped. And all for what?"

The elevator began descending. Peep looked nearly as panicked as Keisha did, while April pulled off her helmet, smirking. Damn Mutter. He had indeed trapped us, the nut-job. Rage filled me.

"All going according to plan," Mutter said. "Calm down." He glanced at me. "Your anger is a waste of energy, Mathilda."

Screw him. At least I wasn't panicking.

Five floors down. We passed the first sub-basement.

"Building defenses under assault," the Intercom announced.

"Why is the building announcing we are under attack?" Peep asked.

"Because I ordered it to." Mutter's confidence was unbelievable. Was he that crazy? Or more stupid than I realized? He wore that smug, self-satisfied smirk. So sure of himself. So in control.

Of course. Bastard. He wanted them to come after us. It was another part of his plan, another part he had kept from us because he was a control freak and a sadistic sociopath.

The elevator stopped at the third basement level.

"We need to take the stairs down from here on," Mutter said. "Keisha, get ready."

She shook herself. "What?"

"We will need you to cut through the barrier doors.

"Shit."

"That's all you talk about," April said, and smirked again.

I wanted to smash that smug smirk off her face.

"Half the world is coming down on us," I said. "And all you can do is smirk."

"Don't you start," April snapped. "It's enough we've got your pal here panicked."

My face flushed. I turned to Mutter. "You wanted us trapped, didn't you?"

He didn't flinch in the face of my anger. "Everything is going according to plan."

The elevator shuddered.

The doors opened to a long hallway, all metal, with oval doorways like hatches in an old warship but without the wheel-style door cranks.

Mutter blew a long stream of air into the hallway. It exploded into a gust of wind.

"Invisible knock out gas," Mutter said. "I always enjoy blowing it away. Literally." His laugh ended in a high pitched giggle. April smirked at him.

He led us out of the elevator. He behaved as if he was just out jogging or something, rather than breaking into the heart of a high security complex.

He pointed at the far door. "Remove that obstacle."

Keisha raised her arms and walked toward the door. We followed slowly behind her. The door began to come apart like a puzzle, piece by piece, steam billowing.

Holes began appearing in the door. Beyond was a Support detail in body armor.

Keisha slammed her hand forward. Metal shards shot into body armor, ripping holes in the armor but not penetrating. They had brought up their guns, some kind of automatic rifle, when April raised her hands. Flame blasted the corridor and the armored agents screamed.

"Team work," Mutter said. "It makes a difference."

We passed the charred bodies; the stench of burnt flesh filled the air. My stomach lurched. How many people would die today? All because of one crazy man. I glared at Mutter's back. He could care less about lives.

April staggered. Maybe throwing all that fire around had worn out Miss Co-Psycho.

Keisha was stumbling as we got to the stairway. Exhausted.

I slipped an arm under hers, helped her along. Mutter was going to use us all up. We'd have nothing left when First Team came down on us, which wouldn't be long now. The whole thing was crazy beyond belief.

"Touching," Mutter said, noticing my arm under Keisha. "Not to worry, everyone will be rejuvenated when we reach the bottom level."

Really? Yet another secret he was holding close to his chest. I didn't think I could hate him any more than I already did, but he had a knack for making me hate him.

The building shuddered. First Team must be battering its way in.

Mutter turned to Peep. "This is as far as you go," he said.

Peep's face paled. "What do you mean?"

"I need you on overwatch at this point, Lyle."

"What good will that do? I'll see the First Team seeing me, if I'm lucky."

Peep's power—being able to look through the eyes of another, came in handy when the job was theft, or spying, but defending? It didn't make sense. Peep didn't think so, either.

"No way," he said. Mutter raised a hand, pinched his fingers together and muttered a word under his breath. Peep clutched his throat, fighting to breathe.

Mutter released him and he doubled over.

"You'll do as I direct," Mutter said.

Mutter wanted him out of the way. Peep once said he could see out of others eyes, and others could see out if his, if they had the same "Peep power." Just like my dead friend Tanya. Someone else in the Scourge might possess the same ability, and be able to see what Mutter was up to.

Or it was because Mutter just wanted him out of the way, and it was easier to let Support deal with him than kill him. To a sadist like Mutter, it might be interesting because it was different than just choking him to death. Who knew, maybe Peep would get in a lucky shot or two before they took him down.

We left Peep looking forlorn at the top of the stairs, cradling a stun rifle Mutter had given him from one of the bodies, with another rifle propped up against the wall.

No doubt, if he had the chance, Mutter would take care of Keisha and me in nasty fashion when the time came. If we gave him that chance.

Keisha opened the steel door at the bottom of the stairs. The air felt electric, charged with a waterfall scent. Everything was lit in a shimmering golden light.

I glanced up as we entered the chamber. The golden light came from crystalline lights set in a rock ceiling three stories up, and it washed over us like soft sunlight. The basement maps were wrong—the final three floors were actually just one, a huge vaulted cavern. Moss hung from the gigantic redwood trunks that rose through holes in the ceiling.

Ash trees lined the room to our left, and off to our right were low firs. In the center was a marsh. Cattails swayed, dragonflies flitted from lily pad to lily pad. The earth surrounding the pond was covered in moss.

It was all so very alive.

Every nerve in my body trembled. It was like being drunk and high at the same time. The wet smell of life filled me.

Mutter leaned into my field of view.

"Drunk on the life here, aren't you, Mathilda?" He pointed at the low island in the center of the marsh. A shore pine grew from the soil there, leaning to the left. "That's where our prize lies."

Yeah, I remembered it from his crazy briefing. I shook off the groggy feeling. "Under that tree there, right?"

"Yes. Hidden at the heart of this bio chamber."

Why would Van Cleeve bury secret tech beneath a shore pine in a hidden bio chamber? Hiding it inside of a Support facility

I got to my feet. Shook my head, trying to clear it.

Our comms came on.

"First team is here," Peep said.

No kidding. I was surprised it had taken them this long. I actually felt sorry for Creepy Peep. Left to be taken out just because Mutter didn't want any chance that the Scourge could spy on him, and he couldn't be bothered to kill the poor bastard himself.

Mutter looked annoyed. "Thank you for the update, Lyle."

Peep must have left the channel open. His stunner buzzed in three short bursts, then went continuous.

Mutter made a chopping motion. "Turn your comms off," he ordered. He turned to Keisha.

She leaned against the moss covered wall, taking deep breaths.

"Keisha, we need you to create a steel wall in the stairwell."

She glanced at me, a question in her eyes. I nodded. She went through the open door.

"That won't hold them long," I said.

Mutter laughed. "It won't have to." He pointed at the shore pine. "I need you to topple that tree. Our prize is directly beneath it."

"Kill it?"

"Yes."

This was it. I closed my eyes, extending my sense into the pine. It hummed in my mind, content, a quiet joy in the vibration of its wordless song. I reached deep inside, down into its roots.

"Do it!" Mutter whispered in my ear. "Now."

Killing a tree. The bastard. It wasn't that easy.

Hot anger erupted from deep within me. My arms shook.

"Excellent," Mutter crowed. "This is what you need."

Putting what I did into words was damn hard. I flushed the pine with a blight, fed by the energy of this place, mold and rot from the roots on up. Steam rose from the tree. It shrieked in my mind, an iron fist of pain that squeezed at me. I cried out.

Mutter clapped in admiration, smiling. He was loving this.

A branch splintered and fell into the pond with a splash. The tree leaned after it. Earth erupted and the pine toppled, sending a wave of water that lapped against our feet. The tree bobbed in the water.

Pain hammered my skull.

My vision blurred, went red. Through my blurry vision I glimpsed a metal hatch inside the fresh crater torn up by the tree's death.

"How...how are you going to reach that?"

Mutter pulled a folded rubber square from his coat, tugged at it. Air hissed and a rubber raft inflated. "Easily," he said.

He and April climbed into the raft. He pushed off.

April stood, took off her coat and held it up, like a sail. Mutter gestured, and wind blew the raft across the pond to the little island.

Keisha staggered from the stairway, slammed the door.

"Is it sealed?" I yelled?

"Yeah." She looked around, stupidly.

"Come on!" I called and waved at her to get moving. Now. It was now or never.

She ran toward me, fell. Didn't get up. She must have worn herself to the bone sealing the stairway. I ran to her, helped her up. She shook herself.

"Time?" she asked.

Mutter already had the hatch open. He pulled out a metallic harness thing attached to a pair of silver gauntlets. In the center of the harness was a silver disk. He slipped the harness on, then pulled the gauntlets over his hands.

I wildly looked around for a plant, anything. The tree was in pieces, and my head still hurt like hell.

A boom from the stair.

I grabbed Keisha and we sprinted around the pond to the far side.

Thunder boomed on the island. A shock wave slammed Keisha and me off our feet. Mutter rose up into the air, arms out, a joyful smile on his face.

April kneeling, tugged on a second harness and gauntlets, shuddering as she did.

An armored figure appeared in the doorway, silver and gold. Dynamo.

He grabbed the door. The metal screamed as he ripped the door free. He flung it at Mutter, who slammed it away with a blast of air.

"You cannot touch me!" Mutter shouted.

April flexed her hands, flung a geyser of white-hot flame at Dynamo. Suit rockets blazing, Dynamo launched himself into the air. The superheated flame melted the wall behind where he had been.

"We are in the shit now, Mat," Keisha whispered.

With the Amplifiers, Mutter and April would be invincible.

April threw a ball of flame at Dynamo as Mutter hit him with a hurricane blast. Dynamo was hurled into the wall, high up. The fireball exploded against him. Silver and gold turned orange in the flame. He fell.

The ceiling rumbled, opened in the center, dilating in a whorl of metal. A blue figure flew like a spear through the opening, grabbing Mutter. They fought in the air.

Mutter knocked his opponent away and into the water. April jetted white-hot fire into the water. The pond exploded into steam, forcing Keisha and I against the wall.

In the center of the pond the Empowered stood, uniform scalded away, his skin gone, showing muscles like one of those visible man models. He crumpled to the ground, lidless eyes staring through me. Dead.

.

The floors above dilated open until there was a column of space up to the ground level.

The air rushed around us, a mad cyclone of wind. In the center, Mutter rose toward the upper levels. This is what he'd wanted all along. The air itself would be his weapon against the world.

The tornado pulled ash trees from the earth, clods of dirt flying from the dangling roots.

I held Keisha. We crouched in the corner, leaves whipping past us.

The steam from the flash-fired pond disappeared, leaving a slick moat around the island.

I pressed my lips against Keisha's ear, in order to be heard over the unholy shriek of the cyclone Mutter had set spinning.

"We have to get to April and take the Amplifier!"

Keisha nodded. She seemed stronger now.

"Can you help me?" I shouted over the roar of the wind.

"Damn straight," She shouted back.

"For Gus," I said

"For Gus!" she shouted back.

Ash trees flew up into the building, their trunks spinning like children's toy tops.

Gunfire sparkled from the main floor but incredibly missed Mutter. Perhaps the hurricane force winds somehow deflected the bullets.

The building shuddered again. The glass walls high above us flexed. The air pressure must be enormous.

I sent my awareness into the plant life around me, to the island where April stood, sending more jets of white-hot fire blasting up into the main floor.

Around me the redwoods rumbled in pain, feeling the heat.

I reached down below the island, until I found the edges of the root, then, pushed my essence into them, urged them to grow, grow, grow.

The roots worked up, through the soil, my strength began to slip away, but still I forced the roots up until they burst from the soil around April, writhing, and entangled her in their grasp.

The flames stopped.

Keisha charged down into the moat, pulling metal fragments into a halo that orbited her, flinging dozens of metals shards at April. The other woman brought up her hand and spewed flame at Keisha as the shards struck flesh. April's arms windmilled, flame roaring skyward as she fell, blood spurting from her neck.

Keisha rolled on the ground, blazing, and into a patch of shallow water, which exploded into steam.

I ran to her, whipping off my coat and trying to beat out the flames.

Die fire, die, I thought desperately. The flames guttered out.

Keisha's clothes had partially melted. I started to pull them off.

"No!" she hissed. "Get the Amplifier. Stop...stop Mutter."

Mutter. The nut-job sadist who had caused this disaster, who had threatened my family, who had killed dozens of people already, and who now could kill thousands with the cyclones he created.

I ran to the island, dropped beside April's body. I pulled the harness from her and shrugged into it, putting on the gauntlets last.

I had no idea how this device worked.

The silver chest disk, I ran my finger around its rim. It began vibrating against my skin.

Mutter was fifty feet above me, nearly at ground level. The windows were shot through with cracks.

Clearplex glass shattered. I couldn't imagine the amount of energy the cyclone had.

Mutter floated out of my line of sight, toward the world outside and the sky above. I had to stop him or thousands would die. I remembered the nightmare I had last night. A monster cyclone flattening everything in its path, drowning out all the screams from its victims. This was Mutter's plan.

I pushed myself up as the wind died down. Debris crashed around me. One of the security console stations bounced off of a redwood and hit the earth nearby.

The tallest of the six redwoods loomed in front of me. My senses opened up and my awareness expanded until I was inside the tree and it was inside me. It wasn't just a tree, it was part of a world forest, part of the green growing plant life which covered the earth.

I tasted redwood needles, ash tree bark, cattail fronds. My skin felt like moss and bark at the same time. My blood sang with every breath the world forest took.

My eyes widened. I no longer stood on two legs. Instead I soared up on a new redwood rising from the wet soil. As the tree rose we passed the ruined floors and dozens of bodies in black. The new tree reached the ground floor, grew thicker. I stepped off onto the glass strewn floor and ran outside.

Mutter hung a hundred feet above, in the midst of a cyclone of shattered glass.

In the distance lay the fallen blimp, smashed against a building. In the Sound, a hurricane-force wind battered at the UN carrier. The ship leaned against the wind, threatening to capsize in the howling storm.

The trees around me whipped in the gale. I struggled to stand. On the road below, near the sound, cars were thrown against the guardrails and into shops.

My enemy was out of reach again.

I inhaled, and as I did I felt the earth. I felt the moss between the sidewalk and the verge, the weeds that struggled to live in the cracks, the seeds bursting forth beneath the soil, down to the deep roots of the redwoods, to plants cells and more seeds, and in that one, terrible moment, everything connected to me. The world was alive, one giant living organism, and I was at the center of it.

My brain felt like it was going to explode.

My legs screamed, my thighs muscles spasmed. My head pounded, enormous pressure pressed down on my temples.

I drew another breath, and even as I could feel my body breaking under the pressure, the world seemed to freeze.

The towering strength of the redwoods, the Douglas firs, the pines were in me. The power of the trees flowed through my veins. I willed a new forest to burst forth around me. With a roar, concrete crumbled and trees rose.

My heart felt as though it would burst, but I pressed on. The tips of the new tree tops soared and surrounded Mutter. He gestured at the Sound and the water bulged up in a huge wave, capsizing the carrier.

Change.

I saw the potential for new life in the forest and altered the trees, sending the whip-like branches snapping at Mutter, slicing his flesh, pulling him toward me. I ordered the branches to clutch him and constrict.

The wind bellowed. I clung to a tree. Cars flew toward me.

Change

I grew thick oak-like trees with rubbery bark, in the blink of an eye. The cars bounced off the trees.

Mutter spun his hands faster and faster. Out in the Sound, a waterspout rose up, its twisting body spinning toward me, a watery tornado.

The spiky branches exploded away from Mutter. He shouted something at me, but I couldn't hear it over the roar. I grew a giant tangle of blackberry vines from the cracked earth, like Jack's beanstalks soaring up to a giant's castle, the vines like steel, their thorns like swords, tearing at his flesh, piercing the harness.

Blue lightning flashed from the harness. Mutter's body arched in obvious pain, his lips pulled back from his teeth. His skin browned and he screamed.

The wind bellowed and then died. Above me Mutter hung, body torn, his blood running onto the giant vines.

He was dead. I was numb. I'd killed him, but I felt nothing.

I willed the vines to lower him down to me, until his corpse hung within reach. I reached inside the collar of his jumpsuit, searched until my fingers found the chain around his neck. I drew it over his head, the jeweled medallion heavy and gleaming in my grasp.

The storm blew out into the Sound, but as I watched, it too died.

The water was filled with people swimming and clinging to rafts.

Emergency sirens sounded from all directions.

The Sequoia building behind me was a ruin.

My heart should have burst already. I didn't let go of my connection, instead, I grew trees around the Sequoia, and had them extend their branches and lower me down to the pit to find Keisha.

I would not leave without her.

# Chapter 19

I found Keisha in the ruins of the bio chamber, lying against a redwood trunk. Glass shards covered her like a deadly snowfall. I raised my hand, and pushed rubber-like grass up from the soil, coiled around Keisha's body, and turned her over to let the glass fall away.

I refused to cry.

I knelt beside her, and gently lifted her in a firefighter's carry. The ruin of the Sequoia building yawned above me, broken cables dangling and sparking, burst pipes spraying water.

Imagine green life never before seen on this Earth, soft to the touch yet stronger than Durasteel. I summoned such life from the soil, directed it to coil around Keisha and me, and then, with impossible strength and vibrancy it lifted us skyward, becoming a beanstalk taking us to the Giant's castle. We rose through the ruined floors and past the dead. The beanstalk leaned into the ruined lobby, releasing me. I carried Keisha outside. Let the Earth heal, I thought, and green-gold trees rose, boughs sprouting emerald flowers that released clouds of flashing silver pollen.

I shuddered. I had not willed this, not consciously.

A new grove welcomed me. Another beanstalk broke through the pavement and writhed around me, taking me and Keisha into its grasp, becoming a titanic vine which rose from the earth, and pulled us along to the south, through the ruins of warehouses and shops, beneath a freeway and up into White Center and then west to the Sound, where another titanic vine rose impossibly from the water and carried us across to the distant shore.

When we reached the far side, I laid Keisha down on green grass and looked back at Seattle, at the impossible trees I had made. It was like being in the middle of a dream that was becoming a nightmare.

As I watched, the impossible trees withdrew back into the earth, and the colossal beanstalks and world vines which had carried us away disappeared.

My heart was like an engine pushed to the redline. My muscles screamed but I forced myself to lift Keisha again and struggled up into a grove of trees at the edge of a park. The sun was low to the west, over the Olympics. I could just see the snow-capped peaks.

I laid Keisha down again, and as I did, the grass grew until it was a thick carpet of green. Keisha's burnt skin began to grow smooth, her body fighting to heal itself from the massive damage she'd taken. I prayed she would live.

Mutter was dead. Dead.

But I had not completed my mission.

Winterfield might lock me up forever for what I was about to do, but it was the only way.

Numbly I pulled off my gauntlets and shrugged out of the harness, folding it beside me.

I ran my fingers over the amulet's jewels, like I had seen Mutter do.

"I have something you want," I said to the air. "I am in West Seattle." I collapsed onto the grass beside Keisha. The world began to grow dark. "Please come and get it. I don't know where exactly we are, but come." Everything went black.

I woke up but everything was still black. I dug my hands into the grass, stroked the wet blades. They were real. I could barely sense them, I was exhausted from pushing myself and using the amplifier.

"Keisha?" I whispered.

"She is with you," said an accented voice I did not recognize.

"Where are we?"

"You remain in the park."

I looked around, but could see nothing. My hands brushed against a body which moaned.

Keisha.

I leaned over her and gently ran my fingers across her face. The skin was smooth.

"What happened?" I asked the voice.

A soft laugh came from behind me. I turned but there was only blackness, blackness deeper than the darkest night.

"Such an open question." The accent sounded East Indian. A memory pulled at me, something familiar, I had heard the voice once.

"Lady Night," I said. Once upon a time, when I was in the Renegades, Lady Night made a broadcast on television. The voice of the Scourge.

"I was that, once. Now I am merely Ashula."

"You came."

"Indeed. As I said, you remain where you lay down. It is night. I have simply strengthened the darkness, so that no prying eyes can see us.

"I'm blind."

She laughed, again. "We are all blind, Mathilda Brandt."

"I had to kill Mutter." I would do it again if necessary.

"Yes, you did." There was no anger in those words, just a statement.

"He wanted the Amplifier for himself."

"We know."

The blackness lessened, and I saw a shadow near me, slender, like a statue chiseled from the night itself.

"The Amplifier. I have mine." I swallowed. "Mutter's was destroyed." Or had it been only damaged, even though it had killed him?

"Yes, you brought it."

"For the Scourge to have."

"It is an extremely dangerous device," Ashula said.

A vision of the hurricane-racked Sound came to me, the crashed blimp, the cars blown into the water, the capsized UN aircraft carrier.

"Yeah, I know." I wish I could tear the horrors from my memory and forget all of it. But I couldn't. I never would be able to.

A hand touched mine. "Know this then, as well; it is deadly to the wielder. It can kill."

"It nearly killed me."

"Yes. What we do not know are the long term effects."

A chill settled in my stomach.

She squeezed my hand. "We will take this gift of yours. It may be the key to unlocking a great mystery."

"What mystery is that?" I asked.

"Why the Empowered exist."

"I don't understand."

Again, soft laughter. "There is no reason you should, Mathilda Brandt."

The darkness lightened further.

The shadow beside me became the outline of a finely featured and stunningly beautiful woman, large eyed, hair braided, dressed in a midnight black sari with black slippers.

They used to say that "Lady Night" of the Scourge wore a black mask representing the night, but Ashula's face was bare. She lifted her delicate chin, and pressed keys into my hand. She pointed past me. "A Ford Galactic is parked twenty feet from us. Take it and return to Portland."

I lifted the amulet.

"Keep that," she told me. "We will want to contact you. You have proved your worth. You did not succumb to Mutter's corruption, you fought him to save us from him, and we will remember this. Thank you."

I looked away. How could I answer that? I did all this to save my family, and they still hung in the balance.

"What about my friend, Keisha?"

"I will take her. She needs more healing."

"Without her help, Mutter would have killed me. Please take care of her."

"We will. You will see her again."

I didn't want to leave Keisha there.

"I promise you, Mathilda Brandt," Ashula said after a moment. "I do not break my promises. Ever."

"Okay." How could anyone pledge to keep all their promises? Sooner or later, promises were broken. But what choice did I have?

"Thank you again, for saving us all," Ashula said.

"You're welcome." I hated lying. Saving them wasn't why I did this. But that had been the result.

I left Keisha with Ashula. Walked through the night until gravel crunched beneath my feet, and I saw the deep purple Ford Galactic waiting in the street outside the park.

Now I had to face Winterfield.

# Chapter 20

He waited for me at a diner just off the Interstate near Longview, about an hour north of Portland. The Skyline was an all-night diner, which was good because I arrived after 2AM. Winterfield sat in a booth in the rear of the restaurant, facing me, back to the wall, just like always.

He wore a denim jacket and John Deere hat. Not his standard uniform.

He looked about a century older than the last time I'd seen him, and a cigarette lay burning in the ashtray on the table.

The waitress took my order. Winterfield insisted I eat, even though I said I wasn't hungry. Food was the last thing I wanted now, but I didn't argue with him. I was still dead tired.

"I did it," I said. "I did what you asked. The Scourge thanked me for killing that bastard Mutter."

"It works for us, too." Winterfield looked pleased. "You did well, Brandt."

Gee, that, too. Glad to be a good tool. I picked at my pancake, took a few bites, put the fork down. Screw him. Anger welled up inside me.

"Lots of people died taking out Mutter."

Winterfield held my gaze in his for a long moment. "Yes, they did. Sucks, doesn't it?"

Just like that, my anger was gone. Amazing what a little empathy can do.

I told him what had happened, how I had gone along with Mutter's plan, had decided not to try and contact Support because I had to follow through. I told him everything, right through to giving the Amplifier to Ashula. I did not mention what she had said about it being the key to unlocking "the great mystery." It was bad enough that I had handed an incredibly dangerous device to the enemy.

If they were the enemy. I really wasn't so sure anymore.

Winterfield stared at me long enough that I finally looked down at my partially eaten stack of flapjacks, my anger gone.

"You did very well, Mat."

Never thought I'd hear that from him. My first name, too.

Winterfield smiled. "You succeeded."

I exhaled. "Thanks."

"You went to great lengths to carry out your mission. Agent Sanchez and I appreciate all your efforts." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Winterfield, saying I did good.

He put a small case on the table beside my plate, patted it.

"What's this?" I asked.

"An experimental drug to help Ruth Brandt deal with Thalik's. Taken weekly. Three months' worth of injections are inside the case with the hypo."

"How do I explain it to her? She's going to wonder how a two-bit Empowered criminal obtained an experimental pharma tailored for her disease."

Winterfield pushed the case over to me.

"Tell her it's from the Government, for services rendered."

I blinked. "Wait, you want me to let her in on what I am doing for Support?"

Winterfield frowned. "Did I say that, Brandt?"

I thought for a moment. "Tell her it's from the Government for 'services rendered?'"

"Precisely."

"But what if she asks more questions?"

Clearly he thought I was some new sort of idiot from his expression. "Trust me, Brandt. She won't."

I wasn't in on why this should be the case. Mushroom once again, but this time, I didn't care. I just wanted it to work out, however we got there.

The least I could do was manage some gratitude. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. "It's not a cure, not yet, but it will make a significant difference in both the quality of her life and in halting the progression of her illness."

Winterfield patted his coat pocket. "I also have paperwork which will set in motion a special needs grant for your sisters to get them into a private school, as well as move your family into better housing."

My jaw dropped. This was far more than I had hoped for.

"Your performance exceeded our expectations."

Exceeded expectations. He made me sound like a prized horse. I guess that's what I was to Support. But, so what if they thought that, if it bought Ruth more time.

"There's something else I'd like to get out of this," I said.

Winterfield raised an eyebrow.

"Gus Silco. I want a decent burial for him."

Winterfield nodded. "We'll do that."

We sat in silence for a while. I finished my coffee. "Okay, what's next?"

"We wait for the Scourge to contact you."

"How will they do that?" I asked. I hadn't told him about the medallion.

He leaned back in the booth and stamped out his cigarette. "It will be interesting to find out."

Ashula had said the Amplifier was the key to the mystery of why we Empowered existed. I wanted to ask him about her words, but kept silent.

Knowledge is power, and it was time I had some.

I always seemed to be arriving at Ruth's at twilight. After being debriefed by Winterfield, I had gone back to my new place, the duplex in Southeast Portland. I'd half-expected Alex to be waiting for me, but no one was there when I unlocked the door.

I crashed at once on the bed. When I woke, it was almost dark. By the time I arrived at the Shadow Wood apartments, the outdoor lights were on and the stairwell was in shadow.

I stood on that shadowy stair for a long time, looking up at Ruth's door. I didn't want to have the door slammed in my face again.

I had to try, had to give her what I'd fought so hard to give her. And I needed to see them. Now that I knew they were safe from Mutter forever.

I tapped on the door.

Ella opened it.

"Mat!" She hugged me close. "I'm so glad you are okay!" She was so relieved to see me. My eyes watered. Damn it.

I hugged her back. "I'm fine.

"I've been so worried about you," she said, still clinging to me. "We've all been worried."

"How is everything?" I asked her.

She took my hand, and I followed her inside.

Ava sat at the kitchen table, face in a math book. She did not look up. Papers were spread out on the table. A second math book lay open next to a pencil and a calculator. The twins had been studying.

"Ignore her," Ella whispered. "She's really glad you are okay."

I shrugged. I couldn't blame Ava.

"Where's Ruth?"

Ella looked at the floor. "In her room. She's not doing well." She looked up me. Tears swam in her eyes. "But I think she'd want to see you, no matter what."

I swallowed, nodded, rubbed my eyes. Didn't cry.

Ruth's door was closed. I knocked lightly, then opened it and went in.

She was sitting up in bed, a book spread out on her lap.

Her eyes widened for a moment when she saw me, then her face hardened.

"Mathilda."

"Grandma, I came by to see how you are doing," I said, closing the door behind me.

I pulled a chair over to the side of the bed.

"I've been better. I didn't expect to see you any time soon," she said. "Do you remember what I said?"

"Yes. I'm sorry that things worked out the way they have."

"So am I, Mat, so am I."

An African violet sat on Ruth's windowsill, in full bloom. I closed my eyes and listened to the flower hum softly as it slept.

"I did what I had to," I said quietly.

Ruth coughed, waved me off when I asked if she wanted water, and coughed again. "If that's how you see it, then I'll give you credit for being honest and for seeing your actions in an adult light."

Maybe there was hope, just maybe.

I laid the hypo case on the nightstand, opened it.

Ruth's eyes narrowed. "What is this, Mat?"

"An experimental drug to help with your illness, Grandma."

"How did you get it?" Her voice was thick with suspicion.

"The government gave me this to give to you. For services rendered."

She stared at me. "What did you say?"

"This is for services rendered."

"Who told you to say that?" Her expression was still suspicious.

"I can't tell you, but that is the truth."

She looked surprised. "After all that time," she whispered. For a moment, I thought she was going to thank me, I could have sworn that she was going to open up.

But then her face hardened. "They think this is enough."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She looked up at me.

"I don't approve of what you did," she told me.

"Does this mean you won't take it?" Damn Ruth's stubbornness anyway. "The twins need you," I said very softly.

She stared at the case. "I'll take it, and use it."

I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Thank you." Thank God.

"There'll be more."

"Very well." She picked up the hypo and frowned at it.

I got up. "Also, a grant for special needs aid will come through shortly. You'll be moved to a better residence, and the girls will be admitted to a private school."

"That's not necessary."

I cocked my head. She wasn't going to prevent this. "It's going to happen, Grandma. I love you and the twins. No matter what, that will never change."

I left her there, holding the hypo.

Ava ignored me, but Ella followed me to the door.

"I brought Grandma some new medicine. Please make sure she takes it once a week."

Ella hugged me hard. "Thank you," she whispered in my ear.

I kissed her cheek and left, closing the door softly behind me.

The world stretched out before me. The trees and the nearby shrubs sang a soft song. I wondered if plants dreamed? Perhaps I would find out one day.

THE END

Thank you for reading **Empowered: Agent**! It means a lot that you made it to the end. I hope you enjoyed the novel.

If you enjoyed the novel, please **join my reader group**. You'll receive "Nullified," a short story about the crucial episode from Mat's time in Special Corrections, which takes place three years before the start of **Empowered: Agent**. I share previews, deleted scenes, short stories, and updates.

**Empowered: Agent** started life a few years ago as a flash fiction story about a young woman leaving a prison fortress and heading to a bus stop, dressed in brown dress and sensible shoes, heading to a bus stop. It was a far cry from the novel you just finished. I showed it to my writer's group, and my pal Garth Upshaw pointed out that this was really the seed of a novel.

He was right, as he usually is. I went off and brainstormed the novel, as a more conventional superhero story, and writing forty thousand words before I realized that wasn't the story. I put it aside and let it ferment in my subconscious.

When I came back to it, I realized that the story was very much about an angry young woman who wanted nothing more than to take care of her family, but that taking care of them might mean doing things she'd vowed never to do again. And that, once she was on that path, she'd find it very hard to get off it.

The world became grittier, and the heroes and villain less black and white and more shades of gray. The world took on an alternate history aspect, all going back to the Three Days War. That legacy plays out over the course

Thanks again for reading! If you did enjoy this novel, please post a review on Amazon! Reviews make a real difference in helping readers decide on which book to buy. No novel or story is for every reader, but reviews can help particular readers connect with the novels that they would enjoy it.

You can also find me at my author page on Facebook. I post news and updates about **The Empowered** and other projects there, and you can comment and stay in touch. I'd love to hear from you!

Mathilda's story continues in **Empowered: Traitor**. She may have accomplished her mission, but she's still "riding the tiger" that is being an infiltrator for Support. Things only get harder going forward. Immediately following this afterward is a preview of ******Empowered: Traitor** **.**

As always, happy reading!

Dale

# Empowered: Traitor Chapter 1

The damn Colombian rain forest wouldn't shut up. It was like crowd surfing an ear-shattering rock concert at the world's biggest stadium. The vines with flowers dangling from nearby trees were especially noisy. My connection with plants had been a total pain in the ass ever since this morning, when we landed in Colombia to help pull off the big-time tech job for the Scourge.

Someone, a pissed off someone, was calling my name. "Hey Mat. Mat!" It was Keisha. The dark skin of her face shone with sweat. Her eyes narrowed and she waved a hand at me, but the screeching chorus inside my skull was making it hard to focus. " _Mathilda!_"

Focus, I told myself. I pulled my sense back inside me so I could think. "Don't call me Mathilda."

Keisha shrugged. "Only way to get your attention."

I wiped sweat from my face. My jungle suit was all pitted out. Keisha's didn't look any better.

It wasn't enough that I led a Scourge cell of fellow Empowereds. I had to lead it into the sticky hot, noisy, emerald green Colombian rain forest. All part of being a secret agent for the good guys, working my way deeper into the world's number one super-villain group. And the world's number one super-villain group wanted some brand new tech that some company was cranking out down here in the back of beyond, so they sent me and my cell to help the South Americans steal that brand new tech.

The two other members of my cell, Simon and Coldie, crouched nearby, at the edge of a clearing, looking at a line of metal poles in front of us. There was an electric-sounding hum coming from the barrier.

Simon caught my look. "Some sort of electro-barrier," he said, in that English accent of his. Northern, he called it, whatever that meant.

The field past the electro-barrier was empty except for a clump of trees in the middle, maybe thirty feet away. The barrier ran for a long ways in either direction.

"We could skirt this," Simon said.

I looked at my watch. We were already behind schedule. I looked closer at the clump of trees. They had cylindrical trunks, and tall, cone-shaped crowns. But they were bright emerald green, and almost rippled with movement.

Something about the way their skins shone, like crystalline scales, made me hesitate. Shit, I was becoming an old woman, and I wasn't even twenty-two yet. I reached out with my sense. Behind me the rain forest kept sending a shouting, hooting, hissing chaotic jumble of noise into my head.

Sweat trickled into my eyes. Nothing from the weird trees. I stepped closer, raising my hand and concentrated.

The rain forest's noise grew fainter behind me. The cluster of strange tree-like things weren't trees. I couldn't hear anything from them. But I felt something, like the trembling of a muscle, coiled, ready to spring into action, or water moving in a stream. No emotion, just potential ready to be unleashed.

I shook myself. "Those are not trees. I'm not sure what the hell they are."

"Are you scared?" That was Coldie. Stuck-up and sure of herself as usual, including insisting on using an Empowered nickname.

She stood there, hands on hips. Sweat plastered her red hair against her face, her pale skin already burning in the hot sun. Good.

Nineteen-years old and she thought she knew everything. Like how her being Empowered would keep her from getting sunburned. Idiot.

Keisha glared at her but Ophelia ignored her.

"Nope. I just want to know what those tree things are."

"Tree things?" Keisha asked. "That doesn't sound good."

"What do you think?" I asked Simon.

"Going around is feasible, but will take time. The other cell has to be getting close to its target."

The factory. The Scourge had sent us down here to work the dual heist with the South American cell. They were to go to the factory; we were to go to the warehouse two miles away. There was security, but it was normals, not Empowered. This place belonged to some private company that had worked out a deal with the Colombian government.

"Okay, we take the direct route and cross this 'electro-barrier'." Besides, I wanted a closer look at those tree things. Once we were out in the field, I could reach out with my power, and not be drowned by this freaking forest chorus.

I walked over to a big leafy tree, the normal kind, unlike whatever those things were out there in that field. I put my hand on its bark. This was going to suck but it was the fastest, safest way into the field. Who knew how strong that electro-barrier was.

The bark was warm. I leaned close. I wouldn't have to extend my power far.

The tree groaned in my mind. _Unhappy_. I pushed my power deeper. _Afraid_. The tree's fear moaned in my mind. The fear made it lean as much as it could away from the field. It was afraid of the things out there, the not-trees. I shuddered, pulled my hand away. I couldn't fight its fear.

I went to the next tree. It was also afraid. Its fear howled through me. Again I ripped my hand away.

"We don't have all day," Keisha groused when I pulled back from the third tree.

"Yeah, I get that." We had to get past the barrier. We were close. I needed a big score here. Things had stalled. We'd spent the last few months doing various jobs for the Scourge, but I hadn't met with the Inner Circle yet, just Ashula Singh, and that had been only three times since Seattle.

My eyes narrowed and I looked at Keisha. "Screw this."

"I don't think that's wise," Simon said behind me. He must have guessed what I was planning.

Keisha grinned. "Now you are talking." She waved us back. "Don't know what that electro thingy is gonna do when I break it.

Simon stroked his chin. "Mat, having her dismantle one of the energy pylons is going to set off alarms and bring a reaction. Our element of surprise will be shot."

Coldie finished braiding her red hair, flipped the braid over one shoulder, and lifted her chin. "You're wasting time, _Mathilda_. Maybe we should start walking _now,_ especially since you are _afraid_ of those trees in the field."

The last thing I needed was lip from her. We were a team, for fuck's sake. Time to get them to act like one, or I'd never get finished with this assignment.

"We're going to build a bridge," I told them. " _Ophelia,"_ I said to Coldie, using her real name. "You are going to make an ice bridge." I drew an arch in the air.

She put her hands on her hips. "In this heat? Over the fence? No way."

"Just get ready." I didn't have time for her bullshit.

"Keisha, we need metal rods, two on each side of the barrier." I pointed at the ground a yard from the barrier, at a place between the metal pylons and then at the far side. Listen to me, I sounded like an engineer. I just had this idea in my head and ran with it.

Keisha shot me a "you-have-got-to-be-kidding" look but for once didn't grouse. She gestured at the patch of ground on this side of the barrier. The ground steamed and bits of metal rose up from the earth.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," she said. But she didn't stop.

Keisha used to call herself the Steel Witch. She could control metal, and even conjure it. Steam rose from iron puddled on the ground. Keisha closed her eyes, frowned. "Fuck." Her arms trembled.

The rain forest must be a bitch to conjure metal from. She could create metal, iron, copper, even steel from soil, even from air, but this had to be tough, because she grimaced and swore as she gestured. More steam billowed up and hid what she was making.

"Damn it!" She opened her eyes, lowered her arms. The steam vanished and an iron rod six-feet tall jabbed skyward out of the ground, wobbling.

"She did it," Simon said. "Brilliant."

"That's just the one on this side. Keisha's got another to make."

"Hell no," Keisha said. "I did both at once."

Another six foot tall iron rod stood on the far side. No wonder she swore.

Keisha shook out her arms. "I wanted to get it over with." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Hurt like a bitch."

I clapped her shoulder. "And you did. That was awesome."

She laughed, looked at me sideways. "Now I know something's not right if you're heaping praise."

But I meant it. She had conjured metal in two places at once. That had to be tough.

Something caught my eye out in the field. The weird tree things were closer. They were still in a circle. Spiky fronds fluttered in the breeze. Hadn't seen the fronds before, but I hadn't paid enough attention. I needed to pay attention. Then I wouldn't have to worry about strange plants doing weird stuff.

I pointed at Coldie. "Time to make your ice bridge. Don't let it touch the electro-barrier." The pylons were seven feet tall, so her ice bridge would have to be an arch.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Coldie gestured at the iron rod on this side of the barrier. Frost spread over the metal, and then ice covered it, got larger until it was a column that became an arch. She twisted her wrist and frost covered the far rod, grew up to join the arch at the midpoint, a few feet above the invisible electro-barrier.

I turned to Simon but he already scrambled up the arch, driving spikes into the ice, tying lines off. He moved like an acrobat on amphetamines, only no drugs were involved. He wasn't a speedster, but his power gave him incredible reflexes and flexibility. He scrambled up the arch, laying out the nylon rope, and in seconds he was across the arch, and down the other side.

My turn. The ice was cold, but it wouldn't last for long once Coldie stopped feeding it, which is why she'd have to be last. My fingers were blue by the time I'd reached the top of the arch. I swung around and slid down the far side, landing beside Simon.

The ice was already melting in the heat. Coldie gestured like a dancer. The melting ice froze over.

"Alright, Keisha, you're next," I said.

She hesitated.

We had to move. "Come on."

Keisha swore, and then climbed the column. She got to the top of the arch. Her eyes went wide.

"Come on, Keisha, you're almost there."

"Yeah, this is not the time to _freeze_ ," Coldie laughed.

Keisha pointed past me and Simon. "Mat, those tree things are moving!"

Simon and I looked over our shoulders. Keisha was right. The bizarre tree things were actually moving, _toward_ us.

The ground rippled around the weird plants. Spider-like roots, thousands of them, writhed like millipedes' legs. Their branches uncoiled like whips, and snapped at us with loud cracks. Simon slammed into me, and we went down as a branch literally whipped past.

Shit.

Simon and I fell back as the weird trees fanned out into a crescent.

I couldn't take my eyes off them. Damn it. I had to stop them.

There was a low hum and then Simon fired his stunner at the nearest one. Its spindly branches waved frantically, the thousands of tiny legs folded underneath it. For an instant it was still, then the thing started moving again.

Zap! Simon hit it again.

Same thing happened.

And the other trees were coming closer.

Simon fired again and again, hitting one tree-thing and then another. Each stopped, thudded against the ground. A moment later they stood and began walking on thousands of tiny root-like legs toward us.

I had to do something.

I extended my power toward them, dropping the mental wall I'd thrown up back in the rain forest.

The chaotic sounds of the rain forest were distant now, almost like the ocean. The rain forest was afraid, the nearer trees straining to grow away from the field. Now I knew why.

I reached into the nearest whatever-the-hell those tree-things were. A ringing ripped through my mind, and I bent over, like someone had slugged me. Damn.

"What is it?" Simon asked me.

"Those aren't alive like plants or trees," I managed to gasp. Those things weren't life. They were like _unlife_.

Had to get it together. I straightened up. No tree thing was going to get the better of me. Too much riding on this job. I pushed my awareness deeper inside the thing. It wasn't anything botanical. It was _alien_. It didn't have the circulation of a tree, didn't have the rings. It was like a living machine. I felt things like rods and cones rippling inside it.

I didn't know where to begin trying to control it. With a tree, a blackberry vine, or a flower, I could do it without thinking, control and reshape plants as I wanted.

But this was like trying to find a handhold on a wall of glass. There was no place to grab. My power wanted to slip out of the thing. It hurt like hell to keep pushing inside it.

The tree thing rippled closer, the others right behind it.

An actual tree would have at least moaned its shock, but this thing didn't give off any reaction, just stopped for an instant like the other one, then started moving forward again.

A cloud of razor blade-shaped metal spun into the rippling green mass, slicing into whip-like branches, and thunking into the shimmering, scaly bark.

Keisha sat on top of the arch, conjuring metal with her power, sweat pouring off her, her face contorted like a crazy woman's.

The branches writhed. She did it again, and again. Tips of ropey branches were sliced off. A dozen blades were stuck in the scaled bark. Black oily sap leaked out. The tree-thing gave a ringing hum. Sap boiled away, melting the blades, and the thing sprouted new branches.

"How do you kill it?" Keisha shouted. She lowered her arm. "I can't keep doing this."

"Then get down here and start shooting!" I aimed at the tree-thing closest to my end of the ice bridge, and fired.

Again, the target sat down with a thunk, then the thousand root-like legs started up again and the plant-creature moved toward me. It homed in on a threat and attacked.

I fired at the one next to it. "Keep hitting them," I told Simon.

Simon nodded. "They respond to attack by attack."

No duh.

He pulled his battery pack from his stunner, slapped in another one. We each carried a spare. Stunners sucked because they didn't hold a charge, but guns and Empowered don't mix.

Why? Because an Empowered using a firearm was the death sentence, and not just rogue Empowered like the Scourge, but sanctioned ones in the Hero Council. It makes sense—if normals, which make up almost all humanity, see Empowered using guns, on top of already possessing powers, they'd crucify us.

So yeah, the law really was for Empowered good, for once. The Professor, who led the Renegades, the gang I was in before going to Special Corrections at sixteen, had stressed that point, and told us stories of a couple of idiot rogue Empowered who, years earlier, decided to use assault weapons. "They were executed and their bodies cremated," he had told me.

So, no firearms. Stunners we could get away with because they couldn't kill, and they ate batteries for breakfast.

Keisha hit the ground and ran over to join us, firing her stunner.

That left Coldie on the arch. She stood up, balancing at the top.

"Get down here!" I shouted at her, but she ignored me. She conjured an ice ball the size of a pumpkin and sent it cannonballing at a tree-thing. It slammed into the thing's body and knocked it over. The thousands of tiny insect-like legs squirmed. Coldie grinned. "Get up from that!"

The tree-thing twisted and pulled itself up like a kid's toy.

Coldie's face fell.

I jerked a hand at her. "Come down _now_."

She slid down the arch, hit the ground, but didn't run to us. She faced the things.

"I'll teach them."

Fucking idiot.

She gestured again and a spear of ice stabbed from her hand at the nearest tree-thing. Coldie twisted it, and frost spread over the thing's scale-like bark.

It stiffened.

"Gotcha!"

"Come on, fool," Keisha yelled at Coldie.

The thing's scales brightened and the frost steamed away.

"Somehow it's generating heat," Simon said. "This is not good."

No kidding.

Coldie doubled down on the ice spear and jabbed again. The spear's head flashed and the ice exploded, sending shards in all directions. She clutched her face.

I hit the tree with my stunner, but the beam died. I slapped in my second battery pack while Keisha fired at the others, trying to keep them back.

The tree-thing whipped its branches at Coldie, and she screamed as the barbed tips dug into her.

I fired at it, but the stunner didn't have any effect.

Keisha waved her hands, and a buzz saw blade grew out of the steaming air in front of her.

She snapped her fingers and the buzz saw spun at the tree, slicing through one of the bigger branches. It made a shrieking whistle sound and dropped Coldie, who sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

I sprinted to her. I flung her over my shoulder and hauled ass back to Simon and Keisha.

"We've got to get to the other side of the field." My words gasped out the words

We ran across the field, and reached the electro-barrier at the far side. The alien plant-creatures were maybe a hundred yards back, fanned out into a line, like wolves cornering prey, making that high-pitched ringing hum, barbed branches whipping at the air.

Rain forest trees grew in a line about fifteen feet from the other side of the electro-barrier. I reached into the nearest one, pushed my power deep inside the tree, ignoring the tree's rumbling moans swelling up in my brain, forced it to grow its limb, pulling nutrients into its roots and nitrogen and oxygen from the air. This was going to hurt like hell in about ten seconds, but so what?

"Ophelia's turning blue," Simon said. "Blood reaction?"

"Give her a medpack."

He slapped one on her neck. The tree branch was huge now, reaching past the electro-barrier and looming over us.

Keisha and Simon both threw nylon ropes over the branch.

Coldie moaned.

Good. I turned her so that she hung over my back. "You hear me, Coldie?"

No response.

Simon scrambled up the rope and back to where the branch met the trunk. He fired past us.

We scrambled up to join him and swung across the branch.

Behind us, beyond the electro-barrier, the monster plant-creatures stood in a line, branches waving, the whip-like tendrils moving in time.

I shuddered. Where had these nightmare things come from?

# Also by Dale Ivan Smith

**T he Empowered series**

Renegade: The Empowered series prequel

Empowered: Traitor

Empowered: Outlaw (coming October 2017)

* * *

**L indsay Buroker's Fallen Empire Kindle World**

Spice Crimes

# Acknowledgments

I couldn't have written **Empowered: Agent** without the support and help of so many folks: my writers group, the awesome Masked Hucksters, Jennifer Willis, Rebecca Stefoff, and Wendy Wagner; my equally awesome editor, Mary Rosenblum, whose keen insight into what makes a compelling story helped more than I can say; my beta readers Becky, Brian, Jill, Kathleen, Mark, Nick, Rebecca, Tracy, Vic; my cover designer Clarissa Yeo; my vigilant typo hunters Cindy, Colleen, Greg, and Mandy, and my professional proof reader Kendra Moll.

Most of all I couldn't have done without the support and encouragement of my wonderful wife, LeAnn, who is my first reader.

# About the Author

Dale Ivan Smith writes fantasy and science fiction, and is the author of **The Empowered** series. When he's not writing or reading, he's working as a para-librarian for Multnomah County Library, in Portland, Oregon.

You can find him here:

www.daleivansmith.com

dale@daleivansmith.com

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