The Empowered, page 103
Lenore, alive? Here I’d been feeling like a heel for not breaking her out, even though that would have been a sure way to get myself killed or put back in there, if I’d tried. “Where are they?” I asked.
“Here,” Winterfield replied.
Zhukova dismissed Alex, Keisha and me, and two agents escorted us to our rooms: what amounted to nice, adjoining prison cells. The three of us sat together in Keisha’s room, talked things over, but wound up not having a lot to say. Zhukova and Winterfield had given us a lot to chew on.
“I need to see Lenore, see what she’s like, before we go any further with this.”
Keisha shrugged. “I don’t see how we have any choice, really.”
“You want to come with me?”
Both of them said no.
“You should talk to her one-on-one,” Alex said.
I pressed the comm outside Lenore’s room.
“Come in,” she said over the comm.
My arms and legs felt light. I opened the door, wearing a stupid grin.
Lenore stood beside a metal folding chair, facing the door. Her hair was still short, but shot through with gray now. Her skin, darker than Keisha’s, was nearly black. Her gaze measured me.
She smiled. “It’s been a long time, Mat. How are you?” she asked. Her voice was warm.
“Better now that you’re here.” I swallowed, my eyes watering. “God, I’m glad to see you.” I hugged her.
She returned my hug, patting my back before letting me go.
Her eyes were a little misty, too. “I’m glad you made it, too.” She sat down in the chair, patted the bed. “Have a seat.”
I sat on the bed and looked at her. She wore a black support jumpsuit, which was damned ironic, since Support had arrested her, something like thirty years ago. She’d been a lifer in Special Corrections.
“I’m guessing you’ve been through quite a lot since I last saw you,” she said.
I laughed. “You could say that.” My grin faded. “More than I ever imagined I would, after they paroled me.”
“I’ll bet.” Her eyes narrowed, and she looked me up and down. "You could carry a little more weight."
“I get too much exercise.”
“You must.” She looked at her hands. They were muscular hands. Her shoulders were wide. She’d lifted weights in prison. She constantly got on me to do that more often. “What is this about, Mat? Really?”
I hesitated. “Would you believe saving the world?” I asked her. “I stopped a psycho named Mutter from becoming the storm king. Then I stopped another psycho named Brandon Ellis from creating plant monsters out of your worst nightmare. Then I stopped a psycho named Loris, who wanted to make her own little underground empire, and probably take over the world from there. And then it was Titan, leader of the Hero Council. Turns out he was a bigger asshole than I had ever imagined, and could shape-shift.” I rubbed my eyes. “Now it’s this Zarathustra creep and my mother, who turns out, wasn’t dead.”
I looked down at my clenched hands.
Lenore was silent for a time.
“That’s the thing about saving the world, it will kill you.”
My heart began racing. What did Lenore know about saving the world?
“I can guess what you’re thinking,” Lenore said, eyes dark and suddenly very mysterious.
I thought I’d known her, but in Special Corrections, the rule was we didn’t talk about before. It only caused heartache and grief.
Lenore, the woman had been my big sister, almost; really, my stand-in mom. I’d leaned pretty heavily on her.
I did a double-take. “I can’t believe it. You were sanctioned, weren’t you?”
“Funny name for so-called heroes, isn’t it?” she replied. “Like you need to be licensed to be one of the good guys.” She shook her head. “Yes, I was sanctioned. I was on Second Team, Chicago, in the North American Hero Council. I helped stop the Creepers, took down Gigantus, uncovered the Meridian Conspiracy.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Lenore, a member of the Hero council? That was the last thing I’d seen coming.
“What happened?” I asked. “I mean, you were on Second team and a hero.”
She sighed, a slow sigh, and stared off into the past. “The rules they set up say you can only be a hero one way, their way.” She sighed again.
“It wasn’t a single thing that led to me losing sanctioned status. It was lots of minor things. Hesitating to use deadly force on mentally ill Empowered, people confused and consumed by their power.” She stared at her hands. “There was the kid who thought it would be awesome to keep his power a secret, and resisted when Support came to arrest him. My team was called in. That time, I didn’t hesitate.”
I didn’t know what Lenore’s power was. That was something else we didn’t talk about in Special Corrections. It didn’t really matter right then. Sanctioned were trained in using deadly force and working as a team meant you could help someone else leverage their deadly force.
She rubbed her face. I’d never seen Lenore cry, but her eyes gleamed wetly, right then, for the first time since I’d known her.
“But all of that wasn’t what did it. I’d been sent to a training facility, and assigned to the Opposition force recruits practiced against. After I’d been there for a few weeks, I learned about a mission using newly sanctioned Empowered from my training facility, people I’d helped get better at using their powers. They were being sent to Central America, to go after a so-called cult. The cult was around a rogue Empowered, a teenaged girl who had weather control powers. She brought rains, made the water clean, stopped storms, and so on.”
“I went down ahead of the team, to warn the girl to go hide. She refused, the team showed up and told me to stand aside. I refused, and we ended up fighting.
“That is how I stopped being a hero and became a rogue.”
I stared at her in shock. I’d never dreamed that Lenore had worn the blue jumpsuit.
“I should have been executed, but one of the Council put in a kind word for me, and I got sent to Special Corrections.”
She looked at me. There was naked vulnerability in her eyes. “I thought about that a lot over the years. I don't think it was out of the goodness of her heart; Astral was a stone-cold, unfeeling bitch. No, I think it was because I could serve as an example: to get any potential recruits who were doing time in Special Corrections, but who might be paroled, to see that they needed to do what they were told.”
“But we never talked about our past,” I said. “Rule number one, remember?”
She laughed softly. “How could I forget, since I’d come up with that rule?”
My mouth hung open.
“You look like a fish when you stare like that,” she said.
I shook myself. Idiot. The rule had to start with someone. It wasn’t in the prison code of conduct, but it was an iron rule. One that Lenore had taught me right after I’d arrived, sixteen years old, mourning the deaths of my friends in the Renegades.
“Sorry, I just had everything I thought I knew about you turned upside down.”
Her laugh this time had actual warmth to it. “Good. I don’t want to stop surprising you.”
No wonder she’d been so protective of me. I’m betting I reminded her of that girl in Central America.
She pointed at my new design Hero Council jumpsuit. “That’s why I can never put that on.”
I plucked at my sleeve. “I never in a million years imagined I’d be wearing it.”
“So, why do you wear it now?”
“Because this is about a new beginning.”
She shook her head sadly. “Mat, new beginnings aren’t new beginnings. They’re just another turn of the wheel.”
“But there has to be a way out of this stupid, idiotic cycle. I thought I’d fixed things when I killed that bastard Titan and turned off RAMPART, but I hadn’t.”
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Now it’s Liberation wanting to make the world a place only for Empowered. I can’t let them do that. I can't let the Coalition have their way, either.”
Her eyes were shining, and a single tear ran down one cheek. “You just made me do something, right now, that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Change my mind about being a hero. I’ll be proud to stand beside you and try to save the world, one last time.”
I swallowed hard, fighting not to cry and losing that battle. She came over and put her powerful arms around me, rocking me back and forth, just like she’d done when we’d been in Special Corrections.
Keisha waited for me outside, scowling.
“What?” I asked.
“You bought that load of crap?” she growled. “That woman was playing you. That was a huge, steaming mound of B.S. she just fed you, and you ate it up.”
I frowned. “I’m guessing you were at the security station, watching the entire thing on the monitors, and listening in?”
“Damn straight. One of us needs to not be an idiot.”
I balled my fist. “I asked you, practically begged you, to be with me. You said no.”
“Damn straight.” She sliced the air with her hand. “I didn’t need to be. Shit, if you can’t trust yourself to see through a bullshit story, we’re screwed.”
“You’re just jealous,” I blurted.
She laughed. “Of her? No way.”
I put my hands on my hips. “So, where does that leave us now?”
“Screwed. Come on, Mat, don’t be a fool. How likely is her story to be true, really?”
“All of it!” I gestured around us. “I mean, is any of this likely? Come on, Keisha, what about the two of us?”
Her scowl deepened. “What about the two of us?” Her tone challenged me to say we weren’t what we both thought we were. Best friends.
“How likely is it that you and I, angry women who hated each other on first sight, would become best friends?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But this! Come on.”
“The world’s a freakin' weird place, for sure,” I said. “I thought my mother was dead, not stuck in some RAMPART control pod, pulling Gaia’s strings. Now we’re the ones that have to stop her.”
Keisha stared at me in surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” I told her what Winterfield and Zhukova and I had discussed. “I know it’s crazy, but there it is,” I said after I finished.
She ran fingers through her hair. “All of this is stupid crazy. But damn Mat, I’m sorry.”
“We can stop her.”
She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re sure of this, because I'm sure as hell not.” Her expression told me she wanted to believe me, really wanted to, as much as she’d ever wanted to believe anything before.
“I am.” I was lying through my teeth, but damn if I would let on to that. Especially not with the look she gave me. “So, you trust me on Lenore?”
She snorted. “Not bloody likely.”
That reminded me of our old cell member in the Scourge, Simon. He’d been English. He died twice. The second time, he stayed dead.
“I miss Simon, too,” Keisha said. “He was a great guy, someone you wanted to guard your back.”
“Sucks how he died,” I said, my voice dropping off.
“Life isn’t fair. Otherwise all the assholes would be dead.”
“I know.” I chewed my lip. “You really don’t trust my take on Lenore?”
She reached up and laid a hand on my shoulder, tenderly. “Mat, would you trust her if you were me?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I need you to not trust this.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Great, so I get to be the suspicious ball of stress and you get to traipse along, with everything just being fine and dandy.”
I chuckled.
“Oh, sure, you can laugh. Fine. Glad to hear that.”
“I’m just amazed you know the word traipse.”
She slapped my arm. “You’re still not funny, Brandt.”
I needed her suspicion. But, I wanted her to be wrong, because, if Lenore had lied - and I hadn’t even met the others yet - we were hosed. Winterfield and Zhukova were hard to fool, but anyone could be tricked. I’d seen that far too often.
I hoped to hell I was right about me not being fooled, this time.
13
The next morning, Winterfield and Zhukova took Alex, Keisha, Willow, and me to a gym. Alex, Keisha and I still wore those midnight blue with neon blue trim Hero Council jumpsuits. The five people waiting for us also wore them. Willow, Zhukova and Winterfield were in black Support jumpsuits, wearing web belts with pistols, stunners, and obvious body armor, as did the two dozen men and women who watched, lined up along the walls.
This felt less like a meeting and more like a showdown.
We filed in and spread out in front of the waiting four. One was a very tall black man. Beside him was a short white guy, with hair so blonde it was nearly white. There was a bald Hispanic woman with an earring and matching nose ring, staring off into space.
Then there was Tricksie.
I recognized her at once. She hadn’t changed one bit. Short, buzz-cut blond hair, with an arrogant expression. She gave me an appraising look.
I stared at her, long enough that she started fidgeting, and finally looked away. Yeah, I knew her game. I didn’t know her power, but she was one I didn’t trust. Not one bit.
“Time to lay something out,” Zhukova said. She wore her insectile-looking eye patch, and long black gauntlets. Always All Business.
Zhukova crossed her arms. “We’ve brought you together to accomplish the impossible: save the world.”
That got everyone’s attention, including mine. Didn’t sound like the very-straight-up Zhukova I knew. She had never been melodramatic. But, was it really that melodramatic to speak the truth? The world really needed saving.
“We’re putting together two teams,” Winterfield said. “You nine,” he gestured at me, Alex, Keisha, Ava, and the five recently “paroled” inmates from Special Corrections "make up the first team.”
“Introductions are in order,” Zhukova said. She pointed at the very tall black man. “Samuel Gala from the Congo.” Samuel nodded. Next, she pointed at the white guy. “Johnny Constans,” from South Africa.”
He flashed a grin that lit up his face and made him look handsome in a sharp-faced way.
Then Zhukova nodded at the tough-looking Hispanic woman. “Colorado Rivera from Arizona.”
Colorado focused on us with a hard stare.
Zhukova continued. “Tricksie Jones from California.” Jones, so that was Tricksie’s last name. Tricksie crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling, not looking at any of us. That told me she definitely felt alone. Back in Special Corrections she ran with a tough crowd, so even when she approached me, one on one, she always had someone else she could run to.
Zhukova turned to us. She pointed at me. “Mathilda Brandt.” I nodded at them. “Alexander Sanchez.” He smiled an even brighter smile than Johnny. “Keisha McMillan.” Keisha also nodded. “Ava Brandt.” Ava gave a quick nod. Tricksie’s eyes widened, and she stared at Ava, then glanced at me, putting two-and-two together. Her lips turned up in a nasty little tight smile.
Ava ignored her.
“Willow Chang you already know.”
“Here’s the quick version of the long story, people,” Winterfield said. “The world’s caught between multiple fires. It’s wracked by disasters caused by an out-of-balance Gaia. We’ve briefed all of you on Gaia and the RAMPART project.” Nods but no glares in my direction. Winterfield and Zhukova must not have told the others about how I took down RAMPART.
“You also know about Liberation, which staged breakouts from the Detention centers and into what we call The Dark-Net.”
“How is that a bad thing?” Colorado asked.
“It’s not,” Winterfield said, “except it’s led to an escalation by the Coalition.”
“Which you’ve briefed us on, man,” Johnny said. I couldn’t figure his accent—it sounded a little English, maybe South African, but I didn’t know. He caught my glance and winked. I rolled my eyes.
“Forgive my associate,” Samuel said, his accent French sounding. “It is the working of a rather limited mind.”
Johnny chuckled. They must know each other from the Johannesburg Special Corrections facility.
Zhukova clapped her hands together. “Enough! You need to focus. We’re splitting this group into two teams: Winterfield and myself, along with Agent Chang, will lead a Support operation to tie down the Coalition’s leadership and keep them occupied. This is so the nine of you, led by Mathilda Brandt, will journey to the Heart of Gaia. You must arrive there ahead of Liberation.”
She nodded at two Support agents, who set up a small table in the middle of the gym and placed a projector on it. They pointed the projector at a blank wall. Zhukova turned it on.
It projected an image of a stone circle on the wall, in a field somewhere. “You know now Gaia is out of balance. Her power is increasing, at an erratic rate, but over time, increasing. This is not a new problem. The ancient Empowered created a network, using their superpowers, in order to address this very problem, thousands of years ago.” The image shifted to a burial mound. I’d been in one like it, in Ireland. It shifted again, to a jungle temple, and yet again, to an underground city which could have been a twin of the one in Persia where Loris had set up her cult.
“We call this ‘the Necklace,’ Zhukova said. She changed the image again. A massive waterfall cascaded down a gorge, below barren hills. Snowcapped mountains rose in the distance. “The links in the Necklace are all over the world, including this one in Iceland. At one time, they kept Gaia’s force in check. Superpowers waned until they had nearly vanished. Then, in the nineteen fifties, nuclear testing woke Gaia. You all know this, to one degree or another.” Her gaze swept the room. “However, there’s another aspect to the Necklace. Over the ages, the Necklace has melded to Gaia herself. More to the point here, we know of at least one of the links which is directly connected to the Heart.
