Tears welled in Ray's eyes, evenly split between grief and fury. Kit put her hand on his and squeezed.
Archer's voice was soft. “I blamed you at first. But I was always suspicious. I wanted to know who killed my family, all those other people. What happened wasn't your fault. It was theirs.”
Kit's anger shifted directions, now squarely aimed at Robinson and anyone who had taken part in causing the disaster. “So,” she said, struggling to control the rage. “What's our next move?”
With a grin, Archer shrugged. “I think their goal was to give the world an enemy. Worse, I'm sure they're still doing things to keep the public attitude toward the Next stirred up. Our job is to dig up hard evidence, something we can link back to specific people and tell the world the truth. It's going to take more than one ghost in the machine, though. And it'll be dangerous.”
“
I'm in,” Ray said through gritted teeth.
“
Damn right,” Kit added.
Deakins came up with a cover story; Archer was hit by one of Ray's attacks, which disintegrated his shirt and knocked him out of the fight. It explained Kit and Ray rushing him off after the fight, and no one seemed to question it. She felt as if their agents would, but kept telling herself those thoughts were the reaction of a person keeping a secret.
It was early afternoon on the day after the attack on the facility before Kit found time to meet with the Franklin family. John and his parents sat nervously on the couch in her office. Kit took a seat opposite them.
“If you don't know,” she said, “the killer has been stopped. We think it's safe for you to go home again.”
“
It's not,” John said, face averted. “Not with me being...what I am. It isn't safe for them.”
John's parents shifted in their seats, almost in unison, but Kit held up a hand. “What you are? You're a hero, John,” she said. “You saved my life yesterday. I'm told you've developed a danger sense. That's not uncommon among powerful Next.”
“Not a hero,” John muttered. “I couldn't help it. I
had
to come help you. It was like a compulsion.”
Kit smiled. “No, it isn't. That's not how it works. You were feeling the situation. Some weird combination of genetics gives you the power to know something bad is about to happen, and the worse the situation, the stronger it weighs on you. I've talked to a few people over the last day. You know what they told me?”
John shook his head.
“
They said what you did is amazing. Most people with a danger sense are paralyzed with fear the first time it happens. The dread is too strong for them, and they can't do anything. You didn't come for me because you had to, kid. You saved my life because you wanted to. And in my book that makes you a hero.”
Like any teenager, he didn't want to hear what she was telling him. It was written in his body language. His hands clenched his knees, tense. The muscles in his jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth. But there was a twitch in his eyes, a bare flicker of doubt when she spoke. It wouldn't change his mind right away. It might not even lessen his fears. Children have a remarkable talent for self-assurance bordering on the sociopathic, teenagers doubly so. Her own experience, the humbling acceptance of advice years too late, proved that.
No, he would not go home and suddenly realize she was right, but the seed was planted. With the double-barreled dose of truth and logic she had given him, perhaps the young man might come to his senses before he was old enough to drink.
“
You don't have to listen to me,” Kit said. “But your parents want to take you home, and we think it's safe enough. We've had agents out to your neighborhood, and our canvas shows no obvious signs of anti-Next activity.”
“
We've got money,” Mr. Franklin said. “Worst case, we'll get a place out in the country and keep to ourselves. Whatever is best for us, son. As a family.”
Kit's face remained neutral, though inwardly she cringed. Some men couldn't look past their own noses to begin to understand their children. John, however,
was
a teenager. He had no qualms with speaking his mind.
“
That's not the point, Dad!” John said. “You never get it. Ever. You think I give a crap about
me
being safe? I can't be hurt.” He pounded a fist against his leg with enough force to visibly shake the couch. “I can barely feel that. I'm worried about you two, not myself. You didn't want me to go to public school because of the way it made us look, like you couldn't afford better. Now you have a Next for a son. That's got to be worse, right? Right?”
John was shaking. He rose to his feet, pacing angrily. “Did you even think about how many other kids like me
don't
have rich parents who can haul them off somewhere else when their kid turns out to be a freak? It isn't fair. I—”
“
No, it isn't,” Kit cut in. “You're right. Don't be too hard on him, John. Your dad is trying to look out for you.”
The boy turned toward her, aiming his frustration in her direction. “You don't know what it's like.”
Holding back a smile, Kit wondered how many years it would be before John looked back on this day and shook his head in embarrassment. “You're wrong, kid.” She pulled out her wallet, flipping it open to reveal her Helix ID. “You know what this is? Yeah? Do you know what it means?”
Slightly confused, the boy shook his head. Righteous indignation worked only so long.
“Helix members are specialists. We're trained to fight human opponents only. Terrorists, mostly. I've recently learned that we're given very narrow skill sets to keep us from going rogue. We can fight, and come up with tactics, and do just about anything relating to the job, but nothing else. Because we work as high-risk agents, we're given a special dispensation from the government. We don't have to wear the ring. We don't have to identify ourselves as Next at all.”
Kit held up her hand, gold ring gleaming.
“It bothered me every day. It still does. I spent a lot of time stressing over it, hating myself for hiding. You know what I decided?”
“
No,” John said.
“
To accept it. To be who I am.
What
I am. Because I can't change it. As long as I'm able, I'll do everything I can to help people who need it. It's not perfect, I won't lie to you and pretend being what we are is easy. But it does get better, if you choose to let it. It's up to you, John. You can spend your time regretting, or you can decide to do something with it.”
The day was warm, a pleasant surprise in the last days of the fall. The sun blazed brightly, rays dancing over trees and bathing the roof of the old but well-kept building. Two figures reclined on ancient beach chairs, glasses in hand and a vat of homemade sangria between them.
“This is nice,” Peep said, lazily swishing her glass. The ice tinkled against the sides.
“
It is,” Kit agreed. “Nice days are so rare.”
Peep snorted. “You're an idiot.”
Kit shot her a slightly drunken glare, but there was no meanness in it. “You don't have to deal with the things I do,” she said. “Trust me, it makes days like this much prettier.”
“
See? Like I said. You're an idiot.” Peep grinned—apparently that smile was hereditary—and took a long drink of wine.
“
I'm dangerously close to pouring this whole jug of booze on you,” Kit said sweetly.
With an exaggerated sigh, Peep sat up. “What I mean is, you're so wrapped up in your job that you don't see the good days. You're under so much pressure, it's easy to forget something as simple as a pretty sunset, a good movie.”
“A long night with a man who will never call you,” Kit added, raising her glass.
Peep rolled her eyes. “I've yet to see you with a man.”
“My conquests are legion,” Kit said.
“
Anyway,” Peep said. “My point remains. You can't lock yourself up. If you do, it's easy to forget what you're working so hard for.”
Kit's brow furrowed. “Lock myself up? Did we not just spend ten hours moving me into your apartment? Ten hours, I should mention, during which you helped me move exactly zero pieces of furniture?”
“First of all, you've got super strength,” Peep said with dignity. “You didn't need my help. Second, that's not what I meant. You keep it all inside, Kit. You don't talk about it. It isn't healthy.”
Rapidly losing her pleasant buzz, Kit looked out over the buildings and trees. “Maybe you should take that as a hint,” she said.
“I would, but I'm really bad at puzzles,” Peep replied sweetly. “You didn't move in here just to live with someone. You know you need people. Friends, even. You know, other human beings who might just be willing to listen to you. I've seen what that job has done to Rowan. I don't want the same for you.”
Kit let her gaze fall. Children played in the park across the street. She watched them run and laugh and scream, playing some wild form of kickball made up, as those games often were, on the spot.
“Tomorrow, one of them could turn into the next Thomas Maggard,” Kit said. “One day they're out there running themselves to death and twisting every second of joy they can from life. The next, their minds are crushed by power strong enough to drive grown men crazy. How is that fair? Tell me that.”
There was a long silence.
“It's not,” Peep finally said. “But life never is. You can't control that. All you can do is try to help the next one, and protect everyone else if that doesn't work.”
Excited screams rose up from the park as the group of kids went down in a pile of tangled limbs. They were so
vital
, so full of life. Kit fought back the tears, but there was no defense from the truth.
“
I killed him,” she said, voice soft. “I took his power and let the place fall in on him.”
“
The Maggard boy?” Peep asked. Kit nodded.
“
He would have brought half the place down,” Kit said, then thought of Ray nearly exploding again. “Or worse. It was him or hundreds. Maybe thousands. I wanted so much to help him, and at the end I killed that little boy.”
“
I know,” Peep said simply.
Kit laughed ruefully. “Of course you do. Archer would have told you.”
“No, actually Ray did,” Peep said, catching Kit off guard. “He came by yesterday. He's worried about you. Thought it might help you to talk about it.”
“
I'm not upset about what I did,” Kit said. “Not really.”
Peep frowned. “That's...okay, sure.”
Kit sat forward in her chair and drained her glass. “I don't feel good about it, obviously. What I did wasn't right. There's no way it could be. But it was necessary. The situation didn't leave me with any other options. I was pinned in a small, unstable area. Maybe he could have been helped, but the truth is, he would have killed his way through that room and I'd have died the second he noticed I was still alive. Maybe you can't understand because you didn't see into his head, but the little bit of Thomas that was left was broken. Horrified at what he'd done, and incapable of fighting off whatever mental illness snapped him. It makes me feel dirty, saying I don't think there was any other way, but I don't feel guilty about it,” Kit said. “And t
hat
bothers me.”
“
Ah,” Peep replied. “I think you're in denial, but okay. I'll buy it for now.”
“
Good, because I'm going to drink as much of this hooch as I can stomach for much larger reasons,” Kit said. “Maybe I'll have nightmares about Thomas. Maybe I'll spend the rest of my days wondering what I could have done differently. I haven't yet, but maybe you're right and it's just a delayed reaction. PTSD happens that way sometimes. I'm going to get drunk today so I can forget we're living in a world where people might have to kill kids to keep other kids safe. That's enough to make anyone crazy.”
“
Well, yeah,” Peep said. “But you're still missing the good stuff, just in a different way.”
Kit refilled her glass. “Enlighten me.”
Just then a man flew past the roof. Kit vaguely recognized him as one of the volunteers, but couldn't put a name to the man. Peep waved to him warmly.
“
There's a man flying home after a long day patrolling the streets. Another cop trying to make his home a safer place.” She pointed northwest, toward the rising spires of downtown. “In the city, there are firemen who can't be hurt. Those men could make a fortune working as private security or doing some job a normal man couldn't. Out there, people so smart we can't even measure it are thinking up ways to make the world a better place. You spend all day dealing with the worst examples, worrying about what's coming next.”
Peep waved her hand, sweeping across the skyline. “This is it, Kit.
People
are what's next. It doesn't matter if they have powers or not. They're still people. And there are more good than bad. Instead of only worrying about what harm they might cause, why don't you take a minute and think about the good they're already doing?”
Kit looked out at the city, bathed in the pinks and purples of the fading sun. She saw the high-rises growing, built of new materials dreamed up by Next working in the facility. Somewhere out there were men and women using their powers to serve rather than conquer. To the southwest lived a boy named John, who had helped when he could have run.
“Maybe you're right,” Kit said, and smiled.