Where There's Fire (Panopolis Book 2) (10 page)

“Sure.” I handed her back the half-full glass. “I’m not really hungry, I guess.” Then I left.

Unsurprisingly, my scooter was gone, but at least no one bothered me on my way out of Z Street. That was perfect, because I wasn’t in a good place for being bothered. My cane still had a few good zaps in it, and I was more than ready to use it on the first person who mouthed off to me. My heart careened from fluttering against my throat to sinking like lead, low in my chest and back again every time I pictured Raul.

Raul. I had to stop thinking about him or I’d hyperventilate, and that wouldn’t do either of us any good. It was a long walk to GenCorp headquarters, and I spent it getting as much information on the GenCorp research building as I could find. There was an introductory video on their website that featured the place, and I went over it five times, mentally marking every door it showed me, the different labs, anything that might help me at all. By the end of the fifth time I could practically recite the script along with the cheerful narrator.

“GenCorp is a world leader in innovative and adaptive technologies,” she chirped as the camera panned around the walls of the building’s main floor, which displayed projections of various successful projects they’d helmed over the years. “From genetic sequencing to dynamic energy containment, from healthier crop strains to medical marvels, GenCorp is dedicated to producing only the highest quality products. Our corporate mission statement is ‘Creation With Care,’” the words scrolled across the bottom of the screen as she said it. “And we are dedicated to promoting a culture of safety in everything we do. Our state-of-the-art security system is second to none!”

It went on, but I kept getting hung up on that last point. That meant that the place probably wouldn’t be any easier to infiltrate at night. In fact, given that I’d had absolutely no time to figure out what “second to none” meant, it was pretty much inevitable that I’d get my ass kicked if I tried to break into the building. Therefore I had to go in during business hours, when there were other people around to distract their security.

Part of GenCorp’s publicity-managing schmoozefest included guided tours of the facility, which seemed like the best opportunity. I’d sign up for a tour, all while praying that no one recognized me—given my currently disheveled and partially eyebrow-less state the odds were actually decent—and that I was able to slip away at the right time. Then I had to find the lab that handled the Heroes, get samples of Freight Train’s straws and get out without being stopped, and I had to do it before the place closed. Then back to Maggot, that depraved fuck, and after that . . .

Then he’d give me Raul? Not likely. And even if he did, where would we go? Our home had been destroyed. Raul notwithstanding, I was wearing one of Maggot’s little helpers now, although it didn’t seem to be having a good time. The grub wouldn’t settle, roaming restlessly over my head. I’d never tried using my ability on an animal before, but it was probably safe to say that my anxiety had passed to it.

As much as I knew it wasn’t my fault that Raul had been kidnapped, I still felt sick, almost dizzy with blame. So sick that I had to lock that feeling away, because otherwise I’d sink to the ground under the weight of it and scream until every capillary in my eyes burst. At which point Maggot would start cutting parts off of Raul, so I definitely needed to stay out of the cycle of loathing and despair right now.

As I walked, I kept my eyes peeled for watchers. If I saw them, maybe I could motion them over. Maybe I could reason with them. Ha.

By the time I got to the GenCorp building it was four in the afternoon, and my feet were killing me. It had started raining, thankfully, and under the helpful arch of my umbrella no one could see much. Not that there were many pedestrians anyway, not in this part of the city. The research facility wasn’t quite in the boonies, but it wasn’t downtown either.

I kept the cane with me. Raul had assured me that it could get through any metal detector, and there was no way I was going in there without a weapon. I folded up the umbrella and secreted the cane inside, then squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed through the front door.

The lobby was a pretty busy place, for a research facility. In fact—was that a tour group by the far wall? It consisted of a bunch of teenagers and two chaperones. Just what I needed. I headed over to it.

“Excuse me, sir?” A redheaded young man in a bright-blue GenCorp shirt addressed me as I got in the back of the group. “Are you already signed in with the school group?”

“No, I—”

“Then you’re going to have to go to the front desk and check for availability.”

“Does everyone sign in?” I asked, trying not to let my frustration through.

The young man smiled. “We sure do! That’s how you get your visitor’s badge, see?” He waggled his own badge, which read MICHAEL, and beneath that in smaller letters, INTERN. “Come on, it only takes a minute!” He led me to the front desk. “I’m going to leave you with Cynthia; she’ll take really good care of you.”

“Hi!” Cynthia of the good care said once Michael had left. “Here for a tour?”

The atmosphere here was so relentlessly cheerful I wondered if the boss was putting something in the water. “Yes.”

“Great!” She held out her hand. “I’ll need to see an ID.”

Of course she would. And I didn’t have one. “I was running late and had to rush this morning and left it on my dresser,” I said, making myself seem as harried as possible. It wasn’t hard.

“Aww, that’s a shame.” She gave a little frown. “We can’t make you a visitor’s badge without some form of ID.”

Oh fuck. I cast my eyes at the ceiling and focused my mind on . . . compassion, that might do it. Then I reached out and touched the back of Cynthia’s wrist. “You know, today is the last day of my trip to Panopolis before I have to head back to Leavenworth, and I was really looking forward to this tour.” Because sure, GenCorp’s research facility could be a tourist attraction for the right kind of person. “I’d hate to miss it because I was stupid and forgot my wallet, you know? Are you sure there’s nothing you can do for me?”

“Oh . . . um. Well, sometimes for elderly visitors we do make exceptions,” she said tentatively. I didn’t speak, just let her work it out in her own mind. “I could . . . make you one of those badges, I guess? Since you’ve been so excited about it.”

“That would be amazing, thank you!” I let my gratitude seep through my mental wall into Outside Me, and Cynthia smiled.

“It’s no problem!” She tapped a few keys on the computer. “Name?”

“George Orwell.”

“Great, got it . . . Oh hey, like the novelist!”

“Yes,” I said, because stupid inside jokes almost kept me from thinking about Raul.

“Cool. Okay.” The printer deposited a card underneath the counter, which she picked up and fixed a little plastic tab to. “Here you go!” She handed it over, and when I let her go her smile stayed bright. I didn’t know if it was the residual effect of my emotions or her own cheerfulness, but it was nice to see either way.

“You’ve been so helpful, Cynthia, thank you.” I turned back toward the school group, but they had disappeared. “Oh, no.” There was Michael the Intern, though, so I went over to him. “What happened to the tour group?”

“Oh, they already left.”

“I need to catch up with them.”

“You got a badge? Perfect! But unfortunately, that was the last tour of the day.”

What. The. Hell. “All the more reason for me to hustle now.”

“They’ve already headed upstairs, Mr. Orwell, and I don’t have the clearance to catch you up without being in the company of an authorized guide.”

Oh my god. “Are you serious? You can’t buzz me into the back?”

“I could get you through the first set of doors, but past that you need not only a badge,” he waggled his again, “but handprint identification, which I can’t do. I am. I’m sorry.” He actually laid one hand over his heart. “But you can come back tomorrow, the first tour begins at ten o’clock.”

No. “I won’t be here tomorrow, it’s absolutely imperative that I get the tour today.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mr. Orwell.”

“No, wait—” I reached for his arm but he danced away, and signaled to someone behind me. A moment later a heavy hand fell on my shoulder.

“Is there a problem here?” the security guard asked. This was no pensioner, like we used to have in the bank. This guy looked like he’d jumped out of a helicopter, swum three miles in full fatigues, run an obstacle course with a rifle strapped across his back, and then poured himself into a security guard’s uniform, all without breaking a sweat. He was in the prime of his life, and also completely covered except for his hands, neck, and face.

“Mr. Orwell is dealing poorly with a little disappointment; Luke, could you show him out?” Michael turned away, and Luke’s hand tightened on my shoulder.

“Move,” he growled in my ear, steering me toward the exit before I could extricate myself. In less than ten seconds I had been shoved out into the rain. I grabbed at the door but Luke shook his head warningly. I glared at him, furious at myself, at my own weakness. What kind of fucking Villain was I, anyway?

My new phone buzzed, making my heart stutter as I fumbled for the device, glancing around the whole time for one of Maggot’s watchers. Had they reported my failure already? No, I could try something else, I wasn’t done yet. I could . . .

There was a new message. I opened it, and my brain shut down. The picture was clear, but it wasn’t . . . It couldn’t be. It . . .

It was an eyeball. Not a picture of someone’s eye, it was the entire eyeball, bloody backing and all, a pretty hazel eye that looked like it had been freshly ripped out of someone’s face. Someone’s. Not Raul’s, no, fuck, please no.

I got another text. Numbly, hands shaking, I opened it up.

On second thought, fingers are boring. How important is your boyfriend’s vision to you? Ticktock, Mr. Dinges.

My . . . He’d . . . I stared straight down at my phone for a long moment, cycling so rapidly from horror to hatred to guilt it almost made me dizzy and until I finally, inevitably, settling on anger. Not any old anger: this was the sort of anger that drove people to annihilate. The incandescent rage of the Furies, the madness of Hercules—that was what I felt right now. I’d told Raul I could do this, I’d told him we’d be fine and I’d already failed him. Raul had been fucking violated because I was too slow, because some arbitrary son of a bitch had decided I was stalling.

Right after I got what I needed out of this fucking place, I would rip them to shreds.

I turned around and stalked back through the front door, shoving my furled umbrella in the waistband of my pants. Luke was there, one hand reaching for me while the other went to the nonlethal weapon on his belt. At least, I hoped it was nonlethal.

“You—” That was as far as he got before I wrapped my right hand around his throat, maintaining contact as I slipped behind him. Anger hotter than the surface of a star flowed straight through me into him, with no difference now between Inside Me and Outside Me. There was only me, Edward Dinges, the wrath of motherfucking God. I was unleashed, giving everything I had with no care for the consequences, and it felt good.

Luke howled like a banshee, tendons bulging in his neck as he snarled with berserker rage. He drew his weapon and fired at anyone he could see, discharging bolts of energy that knocked people right off their feet. Nonlethal—what the fuck ever, I didn’t care. I wanted them to feel my fury. All of me wanted it, the two halves of my mind finally focused in perfect sync. It was dangerous, this level of cooperation within my brain, this utter certainty that I was right. But it made controlling Luke so much easier. The chaos that I wanted, Luke wanted. And oh, he was good at doing what he wanted, too.

Turns out, it’s not too hard to start a panic when someone goes on a shooting spree. I didn’t even have to touch anyone else, they did the work for me, screaming and running, crying and fainting. Michael took a bolt to the face, which did nothing to dim my rage but did offer me a chance to use him. Luke turned to face the stairs, dragging me along with him, where more security guards were descending. I pushed him forward and let go, figuring that his latent anger issues would keep him busy for a while. He didn’t need my guiding touch anymore; he could fuck this party up fine on his own.

I dragged Michael over to where the tour group had gone through and propped him up enough to swipe his badge over the sensor. Beep. The door opened. I dropped the intern, then stared for a moment out the entrance to GenCorp’s lobby, where someone was probably staring in, evaluating me. Maybe Vibro, maybe not. It didn’t matter. I held up both middle fingers, then stalked off down the hall. The door slid silently shut behind me.

After a few long strides my head twinged, and I grimaced. Oh, naturally this was going to crop up now; of course the pill I took earlier wouldn’t keep working. There were no more, though, no spares, no extras secreted away, and I was pretty sure I’d done my last deal with Lettie. I didn’t know how long I had before a migraine incapacitated me, but I’d survive until I got back to Raul and Maggot. It was my only option.