Powerless (17 page)

“Can you call up the car, Jer?” I ask. “Then we could stand on the roof to get to the vent.”

“Can’t,” he says. “It’s locked on sub-level one.”

“I’ve got this,” Dante says.

A powerful wind fills the shaft. I have to struggle to hold on to the ladder.

My apprehension must show. He smiles. “Trust me.”

There’s a lot of trust going around tonight.

I bite my lips, close my eyes, and exhale. It’s easier to let go of the ladder than I thought. I just relax my fingers and then…I’m floating.

I feel myself moving away from the wall. Forcing my eyes open, I look up—not down, never down. The vent is right above me. I reach for the grate, but it’s screwed to the frame.

“I can’t,” I say. “It’s—”

“Move her,” Nitro says.

The wind shifts, and I float to the other side of the shaft. Nitro shoots a series of flaming red, bullet-sized balls. The grate falls with a clang on the elevator car below.

Before I can say a word, Dante shifts his wind again and I float through the opening into the night, then drop in a squat when the wind leaves me.

Nitro flies through a moment later.

When Draven doesn’t immediately follow, I peer into the elevator shaft. He and Dante are at a stand-off.

“Now is not the time, dude,” Dante says.

Draven’s entire body is rigid. Tense…with fear.

Right
. When Rebel suspended us in the air in my kitchen, he’d looked nervous. Now he looks downright freaked out. It’s weird, considering he’s always been so fearless about everything else.

Everyone has a weakness and I’m not letting him give in to his, not when we’re so close to freedom.

“Hey, Draven,” I shout, intent on distracting him.

He looks up, his eyes wild.

“You’re not chickening out now, are you? I mean, even Jeremy could do this.”

“Hey!” Jeremy exclaims. “I heard that. And maybe you’ve forgotten since it’s been a while, but there’s a lot I can do, Kenna.” His voice is rife with innuendo and Draven growls. He actually growls. Which works for me. This jealousy is exactly what I’m trying to play up right now. If nothing else, it will distract him.

“Shut it, geek boy,” Draven snaps.

Dante waves his hand and Draven slowly starts to rise. He’s seething at the taunts so he doesn’t notice until he’s two feet away.

I reach out and grab him before he can look down.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

Seconds later, Dante flies through the vent.

“You need to get to the south edge of the roof,” Jeremy tells us. “From there you can—oh shit.”

“Oh shit, what?” Dante demands.

“Guards,” Jeremy barks. “They’ll be on you in seconds.”

We run full speed to the south end of the roof. From there we can see the van parked on the access road that runs behind the campus.

“How do we get down?” I ask.

Dante holds up his hands. “I can take care of—”

“Freeze!” We turn to face the trio of guards who have appeared less than a football field away. In addition to whatever superpowers they’re packing, they have their weapons drawn. Real guns with real bullets.

Dante turns his wind on them. Faced with the force of a hurricane-strength gale, the guards struggle to remain upright. Advancing is out of the question.

“Reb, babe,” Dante shouts to be heard above the howl of wind, “I can’t hold off the guards and get everyone on the ground at the same time.”

“I’ve never lifted something from this far away.” She sounds scared.

“You can do it, Rebel,” I insist. “You just have to focus.”

“Shit.” I can hear her take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do my best.”

“Take Kenna first,” Draven orders.

“No,” I say. “That’s crazy. It’s way more dangerous for you guys to get caught. I’ve seen what they do to villains.”

Draven is firm. “Too bad. You’re going—”

“Take the guys first,” I tell Rebel. “Don’t let them get captured.”

“Out of the quest—”

Before Draven can finish his pointless, chauvinistic argument, he’s flying up and over the edge of the roof and soaring across the field toward the van. I let out a sigh of relief as I watch Rebel set him down gently as soon as he’s cleared the property line.

“Nitro,” she says, “you’re next.”

He doesn’t protest as Rebel lifts him.

“Dante—” I begin.

“No way!” he shouts. “I have to be last. I have to hold off the guards.”

“There’s time,” I insist. “Give them one last shove and then go. Rebel will get me before they recover.”

“Kenna,” her voice wavers and she sounds tired. “That’s not a lot of time.”

“Forget it,” Dante replies. “Babe, take us together in three, two, one.”

Before I have time to react, Dante sends one last blast of wind at the guards, then runs at me. He leans down, like he’s going to tackle me, but instead lifts me onto his shoulder without losing his momentum. He pushes off from the roof with a leap.

We are going to fall. We
are
falling.

Then Dante throws some wind behind us and I feel the pull of Rebel’s telekinesis. We shoot across the field, reaching the others in half the time it took Draven and Nitro.

When we land, I want to collapse with relief, but there’s no time. SHPD vehicle sirens blare. Rebel climbs into the driver’s seat while Jeremy shouts for us all to get inside. The door shuts behind me, and the van tires spin out.

We’re racing away for our lives.

Rebel drives like a highly trained wheelman. She burns rubber on the straightaways and takes the corners like she’s on rails, pushing the limits of the coefficient of friction. Which is impressive, considering we’re in a minivan.

We weave and squeal down residential streets before we finally lose the SHPD. I’m trying to process everything that happened inside the lab—everything we saw. Body bags. Corrupt guards. Dead villains. The heroes aren’t just experimenting on them anymore, aren’t just imprisoning them. They’re killing them.

And if the seven we saw were just “the last of them,” then who knows how many others they’d killed?

I fight the urge to throw up. But if Rebel takes even one more corner the way she’s taken the last few, I might not be able to hold it in.

Then there’s the confirmation that my mom wasn’t at the lab. Which means she could be…pretty much anywhere else on the planet.

On top of everything, I have another thought weighing on my mind. Gingerly, I press my fingers against my arm through the thin sleeve of my tee. I wince when I connect with what feels like a burn.

I’ve burned myself before on the stove. That’s not unusual. But I haven’t been near any ordinary heat sources tonight. The only thing that might have burned my arm is Nitro’s fireballs. Which can only mean one thing: my immunity is wearing off.

If I’d been paying attention, I would have seen the signs. Rebel levitating me in my kitchen. Dante using his wind power to lift me to the roof vent. Not to mention Rebel’s telekinesis carrying me off that roof. If my immunity were intact, none of them would have been able to touch me.

My stress level ratchets up about twelve notches. My immunity is the only thing that protects me against the superpowers in my everyday world. How am I supposed to stay safe without it? Other ordinaries don’t even know that superheroes exist, but in my life I can’t exactly avoid them.

I’ve grown so used to hiding my immunity. What am I going to do now that I actually have to protect myself from the powers?

“Damn it.” Draven snaps out of the fog first. “I screwed up. I should have wiped their minds.”

“You didn’t have time, dude,” Dante insists.

Nitro shakes his head. “Not a chance.”

“They knew we were villains.” Draven pounds a fist against the van door. “There will be retribution. We need to warn Uncle Anton.”

Dante digs out his phone, punches an access code, and dials. “Come on, come on.” He listens impatiently and, when the call presumably goes to voice mail, pounds the screen so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. Then he starts texting.

“Where should we go?” Rebel asks. “I can’t drive around forever.”

No one has an answer for her. Dante is trying to reach his dad, and Draven and Nitro are sending out a series of text messages to warn their fellow villains that the superheroes will be looking for payback. Jeremy is typing furiously on his laptop, searching for…I don’t know what. And I can’t stop thinking about my vanishing immunity.

How can I save my mom when I don’t even know if I can save myself?

Rebel turns onto another street and guns it, steering the van up a steep mountain road. I lurch against Draven’s side, wincing when my arm smacks into his. I can’t believe how much it hurts. It’s been so long since I suffered a super-related injury that I forgot what they feel like.

Trying to hide the pain, I regain my balance and put some distance between us. He turns and frowns at me, his gaze darting to my arm.

Suddenly, Rebel slams to a stop. She’s driven us to a small mountain park that overlooks the city. It’s a beautiful view of the twinkling lights of Boulder and the vast dark of the plains beyond. It’s way more peaceful than the reality of what is happening down there behind closed superhero doors.

“We need to regroup,” she says, cutting the engine. “No one should be looking for us up here.”

Rebel flings open her door, jumps down, and starts pacing off some of her nervous energy. Nitro and Dante pile out too. Jeremy takes one look at Draven’s scowl, and then he’s struggling to climb down on his injured ankle.

“Hey, a little help,” he calls out, and Nitro gives him a hand. They hobble toward the low stone fence at the edge of the overlook.

If he can hobble, then it probably isn’t broken. That’s one good thing.

I start to follow everyone out—the crisp mountain air will be good for clearing our heads—but Draven puts out a hand to stop me.

“Can we—can we talk for a sec?”

I nod. “Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I frown. What does he have to be sorry for?

“I didn’t mean to scare you back at the lab,” he continues. “I just—when they mentioned the tattoos, I thought it was Deacon in that bag. I lost it.”

“Totally understandable.” Knowing how much he loves his cousin I’m surprised he was able to pull back at all.

“No, I mean I really lost it.” He lowers his gaze. “I lost control of my power. I
never
lose control of my power.”

“So…that thing you did,” I venture. “You did that with your psy ability?”

He hesitates. “No.”

“No?” I echo. “Then what—oh.
Oh
.”

If his memory-wipe ability didn’t take down those guards, that means he has a second power.

Second powers are extremely rare in the super world. Extremely rare. In fact, only children with both a hero and a villain parent are gifted with double powers.

The implications shake me deep inside.

One of Draven’s parents is a hero.

Oh my
God
.

“So one of your—”

“Yes.” He cuts me off. “My mom was a villain.”

Which tells me two things I didn’t know. First, that his mom is dead. I place a sympathetic hand on his knee. No matter how long it’s been, it’s never easy to lose a parent. I would know.

The second thing it tells me is that Draven’s dad is—or was—a hero.

Stunned is a ridiculous understatement.

I have a million questions, but I can’t ask him. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when he whispers, “No one knows. Only Dante, Deacon, and Uncle Anton.”

“Then why are you telling
me
?”

“I know it scared you, and I needed to explain. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

The silence stretches as I process his revelations. Not just his second power and his mixed parentage, but the fact that it bothers him to think I’m afraid of him. And how much courage it must take for him to trust me with a secret almost no one else knows.

“I would never hurt you, Kenna, even if I could.” He stops then and glances away, his hands fisting and unfisting by his sides. I start to answer, but then his gaze returns and my breath catches at the intensity in his icy blue eyes. “I only want to protect you.”

“You don’t scare me.” The words are out before I even know I’m going to say them.

I meant to reassure him with the words, but if possible, he only grows more tense. What did I say wrong? “I…” I want to fix this, but I don’t know how. Don’t know what to say. I have a brief mental debate and decide to confess a secret of my own. At this point, it’s only fair. “My immunity is wearing off.”

He scowls. “What do you mean
wearing
off
?”

I lift up my sleeve and show him the burn on my arm. It’s the first time that I’m getting a look at it myself. It looks as bad as it feels. A patch of skin from above my elbow to halfway to my shoulder is bright red and covered with a web of tiny blisters.

“Nitro,” I say with an awkward laugh. “Besides, how do you think Rebel and Dante were able to use their powers on me? If I still had immunity—”

“I thought you could choose to be immune. Like, if you wanted someone to use their powers on you it would be fine, and otherwise you had immunity. Or like, maybe you could block powers at will or something.”

“No. That’s not how it works. Either I’m immune to everything, or I’m immune to nothing.

“But immunity is your power.” He looks from the tender burn on my arm to my face. His eyes are soft and sweet and sorry. “How can it wear off?”

I have to tell him everything. It’s only fair after all he’s shared with me. Still, it had been nice to have someone think that I had an actual power for a while.

“Not a power,” I explain. “Mom developed a serum.”

His brows twist with confusion, like what I’m saying doesn’t make sense.

“I get weekly shots.” Memory intrudes, and I correct, “Well, I
got
weekly shots. Mom keeps the formula top secret. She was making another batch, but…”

I stop, figuring I won’t have to spell it out for him. Draven is still. He doesn’t seem to be impressed or freaked out, relieved or concerned. He’s just…blank.

I close my eyes and my head droops. I’ve just confessed to the biggest crime in the super world. I’ve admitted that I’m a useless, powerless ordinary.

I should have expected this response. After all, superheroes turn down their noses at me for not inheriting my father’s amazing powers. But I wanted to believe that Draven was different. Wanted to believe he wouldn’t care.

I don’t know why it matters so much—to him or to me. I’m still the same person I’ve always been.

But it
does
matter. Another glance at Draven proves that.

F
ine
. Whatever. I’m not waiting around for his disappointment or—worse—his disgust to surface. I push out of my seat.

A warm hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me back.

Our eyes meet for a split second before his mouth is on mine.

I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel.

The pressure of his lips.

The sparks along my nerve endings.

The sizzle of his touch.

His right hand cups my cheek, his fingers tangling in my hair as he sweeps his tongue along the seam of my lips. The stress I’ve been bottling up releases, and I sink into him. All I want is to stay right here with Draven, forever.

I stroke my hands up his arms, over his neck, across the rough stubble along his jaw. Then my fingers tangle in the cool silk of his hair, tugging at him. Closer, closer, closer.

He slips his right arm around my waist and presses his hand on my lower back until we’re flush against one another. All I can feel is the heat and strength of his body against my own.

We’re chest to chest, hip to hip, skin to skin, and still I want to be closer. Still I want to fall deeper into him—all the way into him.

Draven growls low in his throat and nips at my lower lip. He shifts against me. I hold tight, but he pushes me away, holding me at arm’s length when all I want is to burrow into him again. We stare at each other. I can’t catch my breath.

I want to lift my fingers to my lips, to see if they are as hot as they feel, but Draven has my arm in his iron grip. When I look down, he’s holding the spot that got burned by Nitro’s fireball.

Only it’s
not
burned. The pale skin looks perfect.

My gaze flies back to Draven. “What—?”

“Biomanipulation.” He releases my arm, dropping his hand to his thigh.

I look from him to my miraculously healed arm and back again. “Your second power,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “You can heal?”

He nods. “Among other things.”

Right.
Other
things
. Like whatever he did to the guards in the lab tonight. He was doing something to their bodies from the inside out.

I keep running my hand over my arm, expecting the burn and blisters to return. But they’re gone, and I am totally overwhelmed. Who were Draven’s parents that he has powers like
this
? Mind control is rare—and one of the most potent powers out there. But biomanipulation? The ability to heal—or destroy—on a cellular level? Maybe even on a genetic level? Only a couple supers in the world have a power like that.

His eyes are guarded, as if he expects me to freak out or recoil in fear. But he didn’t turn away from me when I confessed to being powerless. Nothing in the world could make me turn from him right now.

If I’ve learned anything from the last few days, it’s that the power is
not
what makes someone bad or dangerous—it’s the person who wields the power. Draven and I may go toe to toe on pretty much everything, but he’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the strongest, fiercest, most genuine people I’ve ever known.

I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” I say, and it’s for a lot more than healing my arm.

Draven smiles, then nods toward the low rock wall where the rest of the team has assembled. “We’d better get out there.”

He sounds cool, in control, but I see the way his hands tremble before he shoves them into his pockets. The knowledge that he’s as affected as I am makes me feel okay about my own vulnerabilities. My own shaking knees.

Draven climbs out first, then reaches up to help me down. When I’m on the ground, he doesn’t release my hand. Instead, he laces our fingers together, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

Of all the times to start falling for a guy, in the middle of this mess is pretty much the worst possible option. One star-crossed relationship in the team is more than enough. This is only going to make things that much more complicated.

And yet, I can’t bring myself to care.

As we approach the group, Jeremy and Nitro are involved in some kind of heated debate, while Rebel and Dante are wrapped so tightly together that I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. My best friend glances at us, takes one look at our joined hands, and raises a curious eyebrow.

I ignore her.

“You’re a complete cock-up!” Nitro yells.

“It’s not my fault. Once the guard initiated the lockdown protocol, I was shut out of the entire system.” Jeremy doesn’t even glance at Nitro as he types furiously. “If you would just give me a minute….”

“We’ve given you more than a minute. What kind of hacker genius gets ’imself locked out of the system he’s trying to hack?”

“The kind,” Jeremy says, pausing while he finishes typing, “that still has access to Rex Malone’s desktop. Which means”—he spins the laptop so we can all see the screen—“we can still read his private communications.”