Читать книгу Scorched - Erica Hayes - Страница 13

By the time we reached Glimmer's hideout, dawn's gleaming fingers crept along the horizon. No streetlamps lit the back alley where he eased the bike down the ramp. Somewhere in the dark, the iron grille clattered aside, and we rolled in. Once the grille slammed shut, orange security lights popped on, revealing a deserted underground parking lot, and he stopped the bike in its alcove and shut off the engine.

I climbed off, stiff and weary, my nerves still jangling. I hadn't forgotten how easily he swept Arachne under his power. Sure, I was dangerous, too, but at least everyone could see what I was doing. Glimmer's augment was insidious, invisible, unknowable.

My stomach turned over, watery. Mindbenders gave me the creeps. What had I let myself in for?

An electric combo-locked steel door like a safe led to his lair. Inside, his screens still flickered, information and images flowing, collating, like the thing had a brain of its own. Cool, but spooky, too. Glimmer tossed his gun onto the desk-shaped mess and headed for the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"Huh?"

He paused, the door half open. "Beer. You know. A drink?"

"Uh. Sure." I dragged off my sweaty mask, uneasy. I was thirsty. That wasn't the problem. I'd already taken too much from him. Taking meant debt, and I wasn't sure owing a dark and mysterious mindfucker who wouldn't take off his mask was a particularly stellar idea.

He tossed me a bottle, and I caught it. At the sight of the amber fluid, my mouth stung. I sure could use one. Screw it. I wrenched off the top and chugged. Mmm. Cold, bitter, bubbly. All that a beer should be.

Except free.

He cleared a space on his dusty sofa, pushing aside a pile of green circuit boards and memory chips. "Have a seat. Make yourself at home. Mi casa, and all that."

I sat, fidgeting. Did he think I was going to stay here, in his place? Fact was, I hadn't thought about what I'd do next. Could I sleep here, with him around?

Did I have anywhere else to go?

I took another bitter swig. Damn him. Damn them all. Razorfire, Equity, Mengele, Arachne, those cops on the bridge, whoever it was at FortuneCorp who'd dumped me in this mess. Once, I had a life. Now, I had nothing.

Except my revenge, and this flashing time bomb of an ally.

Watch me, he'd said. And Arachne stared into his eyes, and her will dissolved.

Glimmer slouched in his desk chair, stretching his long legs, and leaned over to clink bottles with me. "Cheers. Here's to another Gallery shitball in custody." He swallowed half his beer in a long chug, cold drips running down his strong forearm. He had a long, lean throat, olive skin dappled with soft dark stubble…

Uh-huh. Staring. Not cool.

I coughed, and dropped my gaze. He still hadn't taken off his mask. Didn't seem inclined to, at least not in front of me. Heh. Maybe I should creep up on him while he slept and take a peek, like lovesick Psyche, who couldn't resist shining a lamp on her mystery boy toy.

Yeah. Because that ended well. Boy toy turned out to be Cupid, and Psyche lost him forever. Secret identities, see. They never work out for the best.

"Ah. That goes down fine." Glimmer wiped his mouth with the hand holding the beer. "You up for breakfast? I do a mean omelet—"

"Could I stop you?"

He paused, beer halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"If you pulled your look-into-my-eyes trick on me." I took a hot breath. "Would I even know about it?"

He studied me, silent, his midnight eyes warm and inscrutable. "Probably not," he admitted at last.

"Could I stop you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I never know until I try."

"That's not an answer." My mouth crisped. I swallowed more beer. It didn't help.

"It's the only answer I can give you. You're a force-bender. That power comes from your mind. You might have some resistance—"

"Don't bullshit me!" I slammed my bottle down and jumped up, pacing.

"You want me to do it to you? So you know how it feels?"

"Why the fuck would I want that?"

"Hell, I don't know." For the first time, tension stretched his whiskey voice to a harsh edge. "I'm trying here. I've been by myself a long time. I don't know what else to give you."

"But—"

"Think!" He spun his chair and pointed at the desk, where his pistol lay. "You could shoot me right now. Hell, I imagine you could cave the roof in and crush me to pulp any time you wanted. So why don't you?"

Because I'm not a bad person. I cleared my throat. "I hardly think that's—"

"There's nothing in it for you, that's why." He ruffled his hair, weary or frustrated. "I told you. We can help each other. I couldn't have trapped Arachne without you. If you weren't there, I'd probably be dead right now, so tell me why the hell I'd want to hypnotize you!"

To make me stay. My mouth opened, the words alive on my tongue.

I swallowed them.

I've been by myself a long time. His words echoed, bitter. I'd seen the look on his face when he spoke them. I'd worn it myself, through long hours abandoned in Mengele-inflicted agony, and as I looked at him, my heart swelled hot and uncomfortable.

I knew how it felt, to be so utterly alone it hurt. He needed a friend. And—God help me—so did I.

I stalked up to the console, and poked the touchscreen until it exploded with virtual 3D images. I flicked through the pile, keeping some, discarding the ones I didn't want. Finally, I flipped the whole thing though ninety degrees so he could see, and pointed at the first one, a handsome blond guy in a designer suit. "Who's this?"

Glimmer didn't blink, or argue. "Narcissus. A mindbender, like me."

"My brother, Adonis Fortune. He's a PR consultant at my father's company."

His eyes slitted inside his mask. But he didn't laugh, or claim I was lying. Just went along with me.

I flipped to the next image: the trolley car, same as Glimmer showed me before.

"Illuminatus and Phantasm?"

"My uncle, Michael Fortune, and his son Jeremiah. You don't have one of Ebenezer, but they don't let Eb out much. Augments run in my family, okay? We're called Fortune Corporation."

"As in, the Fortune Corporation? Defense and security contracts? That big flashy skyscraper in the financial district?"

"Our cover story is security and weapons technology, yeah, but our mission is to fight the Gallery and keep the city safe." I flicked up the picture of my father, wreathed in shadow and flame, and another one, showing a dark-haired woman in dusty leathers, a black mask covering her eyes, dragging boulders from a pile of rubble.

"Blackstrike," I confirmed. "Thomas Fortune, my father. Late chairman of FortuneCorp. And me. Verity Fortune, also called the Seeker. Last October, Razorfire murdered Blackstrike, and imprisoned me in a lunatic asylum, where his minions tortured me until I escaped three days ago."

Glimmer rubbed his chin. "Uh-huh," he said blankly, like it was all he could come up with to say.

"I don't remember exactly what happened, but I know those assholes who were chasing me when you found me were Razorfire's people. Someone in my family set them back on me, when I thought I was safe." I swallowed on bitter grit, and flicked to the next image, a woman wearing reflective silver armor, a slender knight brandishing a fistful of light. "This is—"

"Nemesis," Glimmer cut in swiftly, as if suddenly I wasn't talking fast enough for him. "Some kind of photonic power… This is extraordinary!" His dark eyes danced. "These are the links I've been searching for. God, I'm so slow. To think this was all there, right before my eyes the whole time…"

"Nemesis is Equity Fortune, assistant district attorney," I interrupted. "My sister. She took over FortuneCorp when Dad died."

"The Equity Fortune who's running for mayor?"

"The very same." My throat stung, and I sucked in a steadying breath. "I think… maybe she's the one who betrayed me. I wanted to avenge Dad's death, but she didn't want me stirring up trouble during her campaign. She's initiated a policy of non-violence against Gallery villains."

Glimmer nodded. "Okay. That explains a lot. Gallery activity has been escalating. But doesn't that mean that…?" He looked askance, haunted. He didn't want to say it.

Hell, I didn't want to say it either. "Somehow, Razorfire's gotten to her." My tongue stung sour. I wanted to spit, wash my mouth out, make those words untrue again.

But I didn't know how. I didn't know what else to think. Damn her. It had to be her. No one else had a motive that I knew about… or did they? I recalled Uncle Mike, smiling at me in the fifty-sixth floor lobby. He'd always liked me, or so I thought…

"I'm sorry," said Glimmer softly, and damn it if he didn't look like he meant it.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, too." Stupid tears swelled my eyelids. God, I wanted to let them fall. Wanted to let Glimmer be sorry for me, comfort me, stroke my hair and tell me everything would be okay.

Fuck.

I coughed, and blinked fiercely, dragging my mind back to problems I could solve. "It doesn't matter, okay? You said you had a problem with Razorfire? Well, so do I. We can help each other."

Glimmer scrunched his hair, considering. "And that would involve…?"

"Your information, my experience. Let's put them together. Work as a team. If Equity is Razorfire's latest trick, we can't let her take charge. FortuneCorp won't fight the Gallery? Fine. You and I can do it alone. We'll hunt the evil bastard down like the shitworm he is!"