Читать книгу Scorched - Erica Hayes - Страница 8

We stepped from the elevator on the top and fifty-sixth floor of the FortuneCorp building. The long fluoro-lit lobby with its pewter-colored carpet still looked the same. On the way in, we passed Illuminatus, Dad's younger brother. He looked like an older, silver-frosted version of Adonis, and he threw me a handsome grin as he passed. His superconducting alloy bracelets crackled with static charge. "Verity. Heard you were back. Good to see you, girl."

"Thanks, Uncle Mike. You too." I grinned back, but it soon faded. Illuminatus and Blackstrike. Sapphire City's original crime-fighting duo. They'd never fight together again.

A skinny receptionist wearing too much makeup sat behind a curved glass desk. Adonis flicked her a smile, and she picked up the phone, frowning. "Ms. Fortune? Mr. Fortune and Ms. Fortune are asking to see you. Adonis and… and Verity."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. Pretty please. Whatever." When this was Dad's office, any of his kids could just walk right in. And I felt fine and belligerent once more in my jeans and kicker boots. My black T-shirt read I'M ONLY NICE TO ONE PERSON PER DAY, and then underneath, it said TODAY IS NOT YOUR DAY. It pretty much summed up how I felt.

I strode up to the frosted glass door and turned the handle.

It wouldn't open.

Frustrated, I tried again, harder.

Adonis put a cool hand on my shoulder. "It's just security—"

"Security, my ass." I broke the lock with an angry flash of talent. The handle snapped downwards with a crunch, and I shoved the door open and stalked in, ignoring the receptionist's protests.

Afternoon sun streamed in the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city glittered, the sunlight flashing on metal and glass skyscrapers, gloating over the flat summer waters of the bay. I squinted in the harsh glare, wishing I'd remembered to bring sunglasses. Equity has a natural affinity with light, and she likes it bright. The vast corner office was lined with ugly green plants that turned their faces sunwards, and at the far end, behind Dad's big blondwood desk, sat our sister.

She came around the desk to greet us. Tall and gangly as ever, she wore a neat navy-blue suit and heels. A rope of black pearls coiled around her neck over her white silken blouse. Her makeup was flawless, and she'd dyed her straight-bobbed hair, from plain old brown like mine to lustrous news-anchor auburn. She and I had inherited Mom's coloring. Like me, Equity would never be beautiful, but she looked elegant. Professional. Like a politician.

"Verity," Equity said, with all the warmth she could muster, which wasn't much. "Welcome back."

"Hey, E.," I replied grudgingly. If my ruined face shocked her, she'd hidden it admirably, and it cost me nothing to be pleasant. "Nice haircut. You look like President Palin. I'd vote for you."

Equity smiled, gracious. Obviously, she'd been practicing. "Adonis told me your tale." The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. That was a vicious attack. Quite uncalled for. I'm glad you're safe."

She sounded like she meant it. "Thanks," I muttered. "Listen, I want to get back to work—"

"Of course. Please." She ushered us to her little plush sofa arrangement by the sunlit window. A vase of silk orchids sat on the glass coffee table. Dad never liked fake flowers. I missed his big Chesterfield armchair, his smell of leather and cigarettes. When I was little, he'd play hide-and-seek with us, me and Chance and Dad's shadows. Equity had spoiled the game then, too.

I sat opposite her, and Adonis stood by the window, sunlight gilding his hair. Equity crossed her long legs, stockings gleaming. "How are you feeling, Verity?"

Dr. Mengele's blue gaze stabs mine like an iced needle. Her fingertips cool my fevered cheek. Static prickles in my hair, the stink of ozone and sweat. "How do you feel now?" she asks. My stomach knots in terror, and I vomit in her lap…

I blinked, dizzy. How the hell did Equity think I felt, after nine months in the loony bin? "I feel fine."

She and Adonis exchanged glances. "You've had a horrible experience," she said. "It's only natural you'd be suffering some ill effects—"

"So my head hurts," I interrupted, scratching my itchy palms. On the way here, I'd filled Adonis in on everything they'd done to me. What had he told her? "Yours would, too, if you'd had the Augmentium Helmet of Death bolted to your skull. I'm fine."

"Even so," Equity said coolly, "you should see a doctor."

"No!" I'd jerked from my seat before I realized I'd moved. My guts cramped, and for a horrible moment I thought I'd wet myself. "A shrink, you mean. No fucking way. Never again!"

Sweat stung my burned cheek. My palms hurt, and I realized I'd jammed my nails into them. I was shaking. Jesus.

Adonis touched my arm. "Steady, Vee," he whispered. "No one's making you. She's just worried about you."

I sucked in deep breaths, trying to quiet my screaming nerves. I stuck my hand in my pocket, where I'd shoved my mask. It felt smooth and warm, soothing. I gripped it tightly for a moment. Only one thing could put the howling horror in my soul to sleep: Razorfire, drained and dying at my feet. "I don't need a doctor," I insisted. "What I need is to get back to work. Dad's dead, and R—and he's still out there, spouting his burn-it-all bullshit. I'm gonna remedy that."

"I'm afraid that will have to wait." Equity poured me a frosted glass of water from the carafe, her favorite set of gold bracelets clinking on her wrist.

I gulped the drink. "What? Why?"

"The situation is very delicately balanced out there. I've put a lot of work into negotiating a peace."

I snorted. "Yeah. I saw the police barricades, the shitfight on the front pages. Gallery goons running amok all over town. How's that peace working out for you?"

She strode to the window, and rounded to face me, hands clasped behind her. "Be sensible, Verity. If we've learned one thing in all these years, it's that you don't provoke this psychopath. If you go after Razorfire, the city will erupt. It's what he wants. Now's not a good time."

"Not a good time?" Water splashed my hand, and I set the glass down hard before I broke it. Muscles twitched in my thighs. I wanted to kick something. "He murdered Dad, E. He had me tortured. He tried to poison the whole damn city, and you don't think it's a good time?"

Equity eyed me coldly, augmented light glinting fiercely in her eyes. "This campaign is important. If we win, we'll have a blank slate to start making changes. I won't have you stirring up trouble."

"Stopping villains is not stirring up trouble," I retorted. "It's what we're here for. Razorfire is a murdering bastard. He doesn't deserve to live. If Dad was still alive—"

"I'm in charge now!" Angry white light flashed from Equity's fist. Swiftly, she quenched it, her jaw popping with the effort. "Dad's policies were outdated. Times have changed. War is no longer our objective. You'll do as you're told or I'll have you suppressed."

"Suppressed?" I repeated in astonishment. "What the hell does 'suppressed' mean? You gonna arrest me, is that it? Lock me up?"

"If I must."

Adonis raised his hand. "Calm down, kids—"

"No," I interrupted, furious. "I want to hear this. Let me get this straight, Equity. Razorfire has been our archenemy ever since we were kids. We've fought him and his filthy Gallery on the street since forever. Dad devoted his entire life to this war. Now Razorfire's winning, and you want to back off?" My fist clenched, warm. It felt good, after all, to say his name. It gave me power.

"No one's backing off." Her glib politician's tone only infuriated me more. "We're rejecting violence as a solution."

I guffawed, it was so ridiculous. "Are you insane? I bet the Gallery are just hanging out to renounce violence."

"I don't care what the Gallery want. Sinking to their level is no longer acceptable."

"Sinking, my ass," I snapped. "What are you so afraid of?"

She flushed, ugly. "I'm not afraid."

I strode up and stared her down. She was taller than me. I didn't care. "The hell you aren't," I said, my voice shaking. "You're a coward, Equity."

Adonis tugged his hair behind his neck and sighed. "Verity, chill out, will you?"

"Shut up, Ad. You know it's true." I laughed, and it tasted bitter. "Sure, let's sit down with Razorfire. It'll be fun. Hell, I'll even buy the sick freak a beer, just to let him know it's okay that he murdered our father!"

Equity's face stormed over, like it did when we were kids and I stole her toys, and I knew I was going too far. But I couldn't stop. The truth just frothed up, tainted with rage, and I spat the words into her face like poisoned darts. "He might as well kill the rest of us, too. Torture us, do whatever he wants. No need to worry, because FortuneCorp is rejecting violence as a solution!"

"Oh, grow up, Verity," Equity snapped at last. "There's more at stake here than the mess on your ugly face."

My throat swelled shut and, inside, my mind exploded in blood.

I shrieked, and slapped her. The crack of her cheek on my palm was loud, satisfying. But it wasn't my slap that sent her flying across the room.

My power erupted, thundering like monstrous drums in my head. Equity flew backwards into her desk. Paper and hardware scattered. A glass globe on the desk shattered, falling shards prisming in the sun.

Equity stumbled to her feet. Her mouth twisted, and she flung up one angry fist and hurled light at me.

So bright, my skin scorched like sunburn. My retinas seared blind. I screamed, and something in my brain stretched itself to the limit and tore. Somewhere, a window exploded, and dimly, I felt Adonis crash-tackle me to the floor.

My head clanged. Water poured from my eyes. My throat was swollen, I couldn't breathe. I wheezed, gulping for air.

Gradually, the glare faded. Adonis hovered into focus above me. I blinked, reeling, my eyes burning like acid. He gripped my wrists, shaking me. "Verity. Let it go. Chill. C'mon."

"Okay… Fine… Get off me." I scrambled to my feet, panting. The window behind me was smashed, and breeze swirled in, ruffling the plants and scattering paper on the floor like tumbleweed. What the hell had I done? Equity pissed me off, but attacking her was uncalled for. "Jesus. I'm sorry, E. I didn't mean it. Guess I'm still a little tense."

"I think you should leave now." Equity advanced on me, her eyes alight with chilly fury. Silver light glittered between her fingers, and sparks crackled from her hair. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. See a doctor, don't see a doctor, I really don't give a shit. But I swear to you, Verity, if you interfere with my campaign I will come down on you like an act of God. Now get out of my office, and don't come back."

My vision swirled. "What? I said I didn't mean—"

"Didn't you hear me? You're fired. Get out."

"What?" Adonis was incredulous. "Jesus, E. Give her a break."

I laughed. "I'm a Fortune. You can't fire me."

Equity smiled back, thin and cold. "I can. I just did. Get out."

My jaw dropped. Speechless, I looked to Adonis for something—anything—but he just gave a tight shrug, his gaze guarded. Later, it promised. Don't make this worse.

I swallowed. Flexed my fingers. Coiled my power tightly. "Fine," I said calmly, and walked out. Behind me, Adonis swore and started arguing with her. I didn't stop. Didn't look back.

On the way down in the elevator, I let my forehead fall against the cold metal wall, and closed my eyes. She'd fired me. My own damn sister. Fine, I shouldn't have hit her. But she was letting my enemy get away with murder…

Wind whips my hair back. Tears scorch my chilled cheeks. I scrabble for the poison vial. It's just out of my reach. I stretch out with my power, but something yanks me backwards. I fall. My face slams into metal, and a lick of razor-sharp flame slices the floor apart an inch from my nose…

My head swam, images and memories mingling like water. FortuneCorp were the good guys. We were meant to fight villains, not encourage them. Not—the word stung sour in my mouth—negotiate with them.

I stood straighter, and scraped my hair back, automatically checking my look in the mirror, a second before I remembered what I'd see.

My stomach tilted, sick. My eyes looked dark and hollow, my mouth a tight line. Still burned. Still scarred. Still hideous.

There's more at stake than your ugly face.

Oily rage boiled inside me, and I shoved it away, pounding my fists against my thighs until my burning blood subsided. She was wrong. Yes, I wanted revenge. For my face, my shattered memory, all those months of agony. I wanted to make Razorfire suffer like I'd suffered, scrape that knowing smile from his lips, watch the fire flicker out in his hate-bright eyes and whisper, this is for what you did to me.

But it wasn't just about my face. It wasn't even that Razorfire killed Dad and had me tortured until my mind nearly shattered. Razorfire was a public menace. A terrorist and mass-murderer. A psychopath who despised everyone and everything, who'd stop at nothing until he owned the world, or burned it all.

He didn't deserve to live. And I wasn't going to let him.

Hot determination forged to steel in my heart. I pulled my mask from my pocket and wrapped it tightly around my fist. The leather's soft stretch across my skin felt safe. It gave me strength. If Equity wasn't on my side, fine. I'd talk to Adonis, our cousins, Dad's old friends, even Chance. And if they wouldn't help me? I'd just have to do it on my own.

The elevator pinged as it reached street level. The doors slid aside, and I walked out.

Into two big guys, who grabbed my shoulders and yanked me forwards.

I stumbled, but they dragged me to my feet. A woman in a pale suit smiled at me. A blond woman with glacial blue eyes, who held a gleaming silvery helmet.

Dr. Mengele.

No. My blood screamed cold. My muscles spasmed in terror, the remembered stink of piss and fear. I'm not a bad person. I can't go back there. I can't.

Someone had betrayed me. They were sending me back to the asylum.

A wail of denial ripped my lungs raw. Escape, or die.