He moves closer, traces a fingertip over the back of my palm. “So your immunity is gone?”
Considering how much I’ve always resented those damn shots, I’m surprisingly emotional at the thought that my immunity—the one thing that made me more than ordinary—is gone.
“I guess so.”
“When was your last shot?”
I shake my head and look up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Early last week sometime.”
He storms out of the bathroom and stalks up to Nitro. He wraps his hand around his friend’s throat and lifts him several inches off the ground.
Nitro claws frantically at Draven’s fingers.
“Let him go,” I say. “We’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”
Draven’s grip loosens enough for his friend to breathe. “What the hell were you thinking, Nitro? It’s like you didn’t even try to miss her.”
“She has immunity. Even if I winged her it wouldn’t matter,” Nitro gasps.
“She doesn’t,” Draven snaps. “Not anymore.”
Riley looks up from his quest to rescue his prized possessions from the charred and foam-covered mess that was his once proud display case. “Kenna’s immune?”
“Not anymore, idiot.” Rebel smacks him on the back of the head.
“How was I supposed to know?” Nitro complains, hands in the air as if surrendering.
I’m not happy either—believe me, getting set on fire wasn’t in the top one hundred things I wanted to do today—but there’s nothing to get angry over. I mean, until we find my mom, there’s nothing any of us can do about my immunity, or lack thereof.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” I say.
“Don’t worry?” Draven stares at me incredulously. “How the hell am I supposed to protect you if you can get hurt as easily as any other ordinary?”
“I didn’t realize you had to protect me,” I tell him. “I thought we were all supposed to protect each other.”
“You have to admit, you need more protection than the rest of us. So you need to stop getting so offended every time I try to help you. I don’t care that you’re powerless. I swear, Kenna. But you don’t seem to trust me. You want me to trust you, but this is a two-way street. If we’re going to get through this, you’re going to have to change that. Otherwise, we don’t have a chance.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s not. I don’t know. But right now I don’t have time to figure it out.
“Seriously,” Riley says, oblivious to, oh, apparently everything else that’s been said, “Kenna is immune to powers?”
I glare at him.
Rebel answers for me. “No. Her mom cooked up an immunity serum to protect her. It’s a huge secret, but now everyone here knows. So she’s never gone without the serum before, never tested to see how long it takes to get out of her system.”
“That’s against League regulations,” Riley complains, and starts citing policies and procedures. “All research is supposed to be recorded and approved by the—”
“Yeah, well, torture is against regulations, too, Riley,” I retort, “and it seems like no one cares about that. As long as the public doesn’t know that villains are suffering and dying on your father’s watch, those who do know don’t give a damn. Including you.”
He glares at me. “You keep calling it torture, but it’s not. Of course we interrogate villains who have been caught breaking the laws, but torture? We’re the good guys. We don’t torture anyone.”
Before anyone can react to that ridiculousness, Jeremy calls from the living room, “Sorry to interrupt, but can you guys get out here? I want to show you what I’ve found. And pick your brain for a minute.”
The last of Draven’s temper mellows at the prospect of good news—or any news. He starts for the door. I grab him by the back of the shirt and tug him back.
“We can’t leave Riley alone,” I hiss at him. “He’ll call Mr. Malone and ruin everything.”
“We’ve got this,” Rebel answers.
Sure enough, Dante and Nitro have Riley cornered, and my best friend is armed with a roll of duct tape.
Guess he won’t be much of a problem after all. At least not for a while.
In the main room, Jeremy sits in Riley’s breakfast nook. He’s got Riley’s desktop and laptop set up side by side, and there are blueprints on both of them. His phone also displays some kind of schematic I don’t recognize. Whatever it is, they all seem to be linked because the pictures change as he works on his tablet.
“What’s going on?” I ask, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look. “What did you find?”
“Give me a second,” he says, not even glancing up from what he’s doing. “Check out the blueprints over there.” He gestures vaguely at Riley’s laptop. “Breaking into the bunker is going to be ten million times harder than the lab.”
That’s not exactly a surprise.
“So, any ideas?” I ask.
“Maybe. Take a look at this entrance.” He points. “It’s the weakest spot. I think I can hack through the security there, and if I can—”