Hunter (9780698158504) Read online

  James laughed. “Yeah. You could see him on the edge of asking each of us, ‘Are you going to finish that?’”

  “They won’t find him,” Lance said around a mouthful of bacon. “Casey, I mean. If he’s as smart as he seems to be, he’s gone until he wants to be found. They’ll probably find Brawn easily enough, but not Casey.”

  Abby sat down next to Lance and spread peanut butter on a slice of toast. “I liked him.”

  Simultaneously, the other three asked, “Casey?”

  “No, Brawn. He was scary, but he was nice.”

  James said, “I felt kinda sorry for him—can’t be easy being thirteen feet tall, blue, and bald—but not now. Not after this.”

  They ate in silence for a while, then Abby said, “Maybe he was right. I mean, what did Casey Duval actually do that justified us locking him up? Nothing. Max was just scared that he might do something. That’s no reason to take someone prisoner.”

  “It’s not that simple,” James said. “He’s a potential threat.”

  “So’s everyone, depending on how you look at it. Any of us could turn out to be a supervillain.”

  “True,” Lance said. “Especially me. I’m—”

  James interrupted. “No, to be a supervillain you need to have the super part. And you don’t.”

  “Again with that,” Lance said. “Don’t your ears ever get bored with your mouth?”

  “No, but they sure get bored with yours.”

  A voice from the doorway said, “So this is how you children train? Stuffing yourselves with high-cholesterol food and sniping at each other?”

  Even as Lance registered that there was someone speaking, Abby was already vaulting over the table toward the door, her chair tipping over behind her.

  Lance whipped around to see Abby about to collide feetfirst into Casey Duval’s chest. The large man dodged to the right and lashed out with his left fist, slamming it into Abby’s ribs.

  James rushed at the intruder, fists clenched. James was taller than Lance, but six inches shorter than Casey, and probably sixty pounds lighter.

  Casey lashed out with his right arm, a backhanded blow that caught James square in the chest and sent him sprawling backward.

  Abby was already on her feet again, snatching a handful of knives and forks from the table and rapidly launching them at Casey like throwing stars. The first fork buried itself deep into Casey’s right shoulder. Almost immediately, the second joined it, less than half an inch below. Then a third struck home between them and a fourth pierced his abdomen directly below his sternum.

  As Casey grabbed for the forks with his left hand, two table knives slammed into his forearm, their blades pushing a good two inches into the man’s flesh, causing him to flinch—an action that saved him from the heavy cast-iron frying pan that Roz telekinetically launched at his head.

  The pan slammed into the wall next to the door. Casey spun as he ducked, caught the pan before it hit the ground, grabbing it by the handle. Another knife whizzed past the top of his head and disappeared out into the hall. He continued the spin, rising quickly as he turned back to face the teens.

  He used the pan to knock another flying fork out of the air, then to shield himself against a wooden chair thrown by Roz: Casey struck the chair with enough force to shatter it into splinters.

  There was another volley of cutlery thrown by Abby, but this time only one piece struck home—Casey deflected the rest using the pan like a Ping-Pong paddle.

  Then he bellowed, “Stop!”

  In the shocked lull that followed, he asked, “What’s wrong with you idiots? You’re supposed to be heroes! Why are you attacking me?”

  Lance said, “Well, apparently you’re the bad guy.”

  Casey threw the pan aside, and winced as he began to pull the cutlery from his shoulder and arm. “What have I done that makes me the bad guy?”

  On the floor, rolling onto his side before he climbed to his feet, James said, “You built that robot that nearly killed Abby.”

  “And it came even closer to killing you,” Casey said. “So what? The robot was part of my security system. On private property.”

  Abby began, “You have to—”

  “Aw, shut up,” Casey said. “What have I done that’s illegal? Seriously, what? How many laws have I broken?”

  Lance said, “Well, right now you’re the one trespassing.”

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “What? He is!”

  Roz said, “What do you want?”

  Casey winced as he pulled the last fork out of his shoulder. “Ow. That one’s gonna leave a scar.” He twirled the fork around his fingers as he looked at Abby. “Interesting. You have some sort of control over metal objects. Not sure exactly what it is, but it’s not telekinesis like Ms. Dalton here has. You should concentrate on developing that power.” He turned back to Roz. “What do I want? I want to talk.”

  He stepped closer to the table, and everyone stiffened.

  “If I wanted to hurt you kids, then right now you’d be having all kinds of fun trying to open the first-aid kit with broken fingers.”

  Lance still hadn’t moved from his chair. He felt the sweat beading on his forehead as he looked up at Casey. “Listen, dude . . .” He stopped as Casey turned to glare at him.

  James was standing now, glowering at Casey as he wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Give me a reason not to shatter your eardrums, Duval.”

  “I know I don’t have much time,” the man said, still twirling the fork around his fingers. “Roz will already have signaled Max.” He glanced at her. “You’re not wearing a wristwatch, so . . . A device attached to your belt?” He shrugged. “Whatever. I’ve got maybe six minutes. And don’t try to stop me when I leave. Really. Two defeats in one day—you might just die of shame.” To James, he said, “You’re wondering how I managed to get in here when you can hear me coming from miles away. Simple. I changed my breathing pattern.”

  “But why—?”

  “Why didn’t you hear that there was someone coming? Because you have an ego that’s bigger than your abilities, that’s why. You think no one can sneak up on you because you’ll always be able to hear them coming. Clearly, that’s not the case, is it?” He smiled and held up the fork in his closed fist, tines pointing downward, then slammed down at the table and stepped back, leaving the fork protruding from the table’s wooden surface. “I’ll get to the point. I want you all to join me. Yes, even you, McKendrick.”

  “Join you?” Roz said. “Are you insane?”

  “No. Join me. Your brother is a megalomaniac. The only thing that’ll satisfy him is complete control.” Casey paused for a moment. “Actually, he and I are similar in that regard. But it’s our methods that separate us. Max uses his power to steer people’s will. You know that—or you would, if he didn’t keep messing with your memories. Roz . . . He’s done it to you so many times. . . . Do you remember Fabian?”

  “Who?”

  “You and he dated for some time. You don’t remember this. Max took a disliking to him and he made you forget him.” Casey looked around at the others. “Fabian was Pyrokine. Instrumental in your first defeat of Krodin.”

  James said, “I’ve never heard of that guy, and no one’s tampered with my memory.”

  “How would you know?” Casey asked. “Unlike Max, I intend to teach people to think for themselves. I’m hoping you kids are smart enough to understand the difference.”

  Lance said, “It’s The Wizard of Oz all over again.”

  Casey laughed. “Good analogy.” He stepped back toward the door. “Think it over. Talk it over. I don’t expect you to agree to ditch Max and follow me, not without solid evidence that my way is better than his. You’ll have that evidence soon enough. Until then, here’s my advice: Don’t blindly follow anyone. Ever. You understand wh
at I’m saying, Roz? Be your own person, not Max’s puppet.”

  “No. No, you’re twisting things!” James shouted. “You think that we’ll believe you because we’re just a bunch of dumb kids who are easily led! Well, we won’t always be kids!”

  As Casey passed through the door, he called back, “And if you stick with Max, there’s a good chance you won’t ever be adults.”

  The four teenagers looked at each other for a moment, then—at the same time—Roz and James ran for the door.

  Abby and Lance watched them go.

  Lance began, “Why aren’t you—”

  “Because he’ll be gone already. He’s not dumb enough to be waiting outside for a taxi. What was that about The Wizard of Oz? I didn’t get that.”

  Lance sat back down. “In the movie, Dorothy discovers that the wizard is a fake. The only power he really has is everyone’s fear of him. Good and evil are labels; that’s all. Before you decide whether something deserves to be called good or evil, you have to determine who’s applying the label. The wizard is a fraud, but he calls himself the Wonderful Wizard and everyone believes it because they’re too dumb or too scared to question it, or because they’re so desperate for a leader they’ll accept the guy with the loudest voice and the most impressive fireworks display.”

  “And that’s Max?”

  Lance shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on how you look at it, I guess. It could be Casey.”

  AFTER HE WASHED AND DRIED the breakfast things—a brief argument with Abby over whose turn it was led to Abby agreeing that she would do it if Lance could beat her in an arm-wrestling match—Lance wandered outside to the base’s small parking lot, still rubbing his aching right arm. “You out here, Abby?”

  The parking lot was deserted, so he went back inside where he found her in the garage getting up from the floor. He rushed over, but she was on her feet before he reached her. “What happened?”

  “Dunno,” Abby said. “Felt a bit dizzy for a second. Casey must have hit me harder than I thought.” She slowly stretched, then flexed her neck from side to side, and arched her back. “I feel like I’ve done ten rounds in the ring with Brawn.”

  Lance had only known Abigail de Luyando for a few weeks, but it hadn’t even taken that long for him to fall in love with her. He’d always expected to fall for a girl who was short and slim and blond and buxom, with a winning smile, a flawless complexion, and a delicate, feminine manner. A girl who giggled at his jokes and wrote “I—heart—Lance” on her schoolbooks.

  Abby was almost the total opposite. She was his height, with brown skin and black hair. She didn’t seem to laugh very much and wasn’t the sort of girl he could ever picture writing anyone’s name on her schoolbooks, unless it was a hit list.

  But still his heart went crazy whenever he was with her, or even just thought about her.

  He knew that James felt the same way about Abby, and that was almost certainly the greatest source of tension between them.

  He wondered if James also felt guilty about Roz. Lance liked her, but didn’t feel any attraction toward her. Roz was certainly pretty enough, and in normal circumstances he’d have been nuts about her, but the attraction had never clicked. Instead, he felt sorry for her at times. Three teenage guys in the group—well, two, now that Brawn was gone—and none of them interested in her.

  Even as that thought passed through his mind, Lance found himself dismissing it. There was no need to feel sorry for Roz. She always seemed perfectly content without some lovesick teenager moping over her.

  They walked back out to the parking lot and sat on an old wooden bench. It was a warm morning and Lance was wearing only a T-shirt and jeans. He was very much aware of how pale and pasty his flesh looked next to the rich brown of Abby’s skin.

  He pointed to a long, thin white scar on her left forearm. “When did you get that?”

  “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever even noticed that one before.” She pulled up the end of her shirt and showed Lance the bruising on her stomach. “That’s where what’s-her-name shot me, back in Krodin’s universe. It hasn’t healed yet and . . . Actually, it’s looking a lot better now than it did last night.” Then she pointed to another scar on her left arm. “I think I got that one when we fought Krodin the first time.”

  “And the ones on your knuckles?”

  She shrugged. “No idea. I suppose we’re all going to have a lot more scars before this is over. Those of us who survive, I mean.” She looked at him for a few seconds. “We’re not all going to make it, you know.”

  Lance wasn’t sure how to react to that. “Everyone dies. The trick is to put it off as long as you can.”

  “Some of us won’t have that option.”

  “Man, you’re in a weird mood all of a sudden.” He shuffled a few inches away from her along the bench. “Just in case being a pessimist is contagious.”

  She poked him in the arm.

  He returned the favor and regretted it; Abby’s muscles were like steel. “Ouch. You feeling any better now?”

  “Yeah. I’m tired, though. None of us got much sleep last night.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well for weeks,” Lance said, before he could stop himself. He didn’t like to admit any kind of weakness, even to his friends.

  “Because of what happened in Krodin’s universe? It was a hard decision to make, but you did the right thing.”

  “No, it’s not just that. It’s . . . I miss my brother. My folks too, but right now Cody’s more on my mind. I keep wondering how he would have coped in my place.” Lance smiled. “He’d have made a better superhero than me, I can tell you that for sure. Everyone loved him, and he was good at everything. I used to tease him that he was only good at stuff because he was too dumb to know when something was supposed to be hard to do, but he wasn’t dumb. He was smarter than I am. And nicer too.”

  “How many times did he help save the world?”

  “I know. . . . But still. I never spent enough time with him. Abby, you should spend more time with your own brothers, and your sister. Though if you’re too busy, I’m willing to spend time with your sister on your behalf.”

  “Hmm . . . that’s very generous of you.” Abby shifted on the bench, turning to face him. “You’re going to look for Slaughter, aren’t you?”

  “One day,” Lance said, nodding. “Though I’m scared of her. I need to find a way to get superhuman powers of my own, put us on equal ground if we ever meet again.”

  “If that’s even possible. What would you do? Kill her?”

  Lance didn’t have an answer for that.

  Max and his team returned a few minutes later, their huge car screeching to a halt outside the base. Max was out of the car before it had even stopped.

  “Ooh, you just missed him,” Lance said. He pointed off to the left. “If you run, you might—”

  “I’m not in the mood, Lance.” Max stared at Abby. “You let him go!? What’s wrong with you?”

  She stared back. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Max put his hands to his head and clenched his fists—for a moment Lance thought that Max was about to start ripping out his hair. “You had him right here! Three of you are superhuman—did you even try to stop him?”

  “We did try,” Lance said. “They fought him and I gave him a very nasty look.”

  “Why, though?” Abby asked. “Max, seriously, why did we even arrest him in the first place? He still hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  As they argued, Lance did his best to suppress a smile. It was pretty hard to get Abby riled up, but Max was doing a good job of it.

  She was standing now, defiant and still, but with a cold expression that put Lance in mind of the looks his mother used to give him when he was in trouble.

  Don’t think she’s ever stood up to him like that before, Lance thought. Goo
d for you, Abby. Don’t ever let anyone push you around.

  Max turned to him and said, “Lance?”

  “I was paying attention!” he snapped back. “Wait—what?”

  “I said we have to abandon this place. Gather your things. Abby and James are going home; you and Roz are going to the apartment in Manhattan.”

  Lance stood up. “Right. OK. And what about Casey? He’s not likely to come back here again.”

  “There’s no way we can know that. Whatever it was he came to steal, it’d be foolish to keep anything here.” He put his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You OK? You seem a bit shaken.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Lance said, nodding. He looked down at his hands—they were still trembling a little.

  “You’ll be safe in Manhattan.” Max gave him a smile and a reassuring wink, then walked into the base.

  As they watched him go, Lance said to Abby, “So you’ll give me your number, yeah?”

  “Sure. But . . . Lance, you do understand that you and I are never going to be any more than friends, right?”

  “Well, duh! Of course I do.” Then he grinned. “But one day you can introduce me to your sister.”

  Abby thumped him on the arm. “Hah! Some chance there! She does like boys but she’s too old for you. Besides, I think that Sol has a crush on her.”

  “Typical,” Lance said as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm. “The girls always go for the older guys. Especially when they have body armor and jetpacks and cool weapons. You know, Sol isn’t any more superhuman than I am. I could get a jetpack and some body armor.”

  Abby sat back down on the bench, stretched her legs out in front of her, and crossed them at the ankles. “Yeah, but it’s not the equipment that makes him Paragon. He’s got more courage than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Except me, of course.”