FORTY-THREE
Alia has designed me a new suit.
We’re sitting on the mats like we always do in the evenings, and right now, Alia is showing us her designs.
I’ve never seen her this animated before.
She’s more confident talking about the contents of her sketchbook than she is the weather. She’s talking fast and fluid, describing the details and the dimensions, even outlining the materials we’ll need in order to make it.
It’s built with carbon.
Carbon fibers, to be precise. She explained that carbon fibers are so stiff and abrasive that they’ll need to be bonded with something very flexible in order to become wearable, so she’s planning on experimenting with several different materials. Something about polymers. And synthetic something. And a bunch of other words I didn’t really understand. Her sketches show how the carbon fibers are literally woven into a textile, creating a durable and lightweight material that will serve as a stronger basis for what I need.
Her idea was inspired by the knuckle braces she made for me.
She said she originally wanted the suit to be made of thousands of pieces of gunmetal, but then she realized she’d never have the tools to make the pieces as thin as she’d like them, and therefore, the suit would be too heavy. But this is sounding just as amazing.
“It’ll complement and enhance your strength,” she’s saying to me. “The carbon fibers will give you an added level of protection; they won’t damage easily, so you’ll be able to move more freely through different terrains. And when you’re in a dangerous environment, you must remember to maintain a state of electricum at all times; that way your body will become virtually indestructible,” she says.
“What do you mean . . . ?” I look from her to Castle for clarification. “How can that be possible?”
“Because,” Alia explains. “In the same way that you can break through concrete without hurting yourself, you should also be able to sustain an attack—from a bullet, for example—without harm.” She smiles. “Your powers make you functionally invincible.”
Wow.
“This suit is a precaution more than anything else,” she goes on. “We’ve seen in the past that you can, in fact, damage your skin if you’re not wholly in control of your power. When you broke the ground in the research rooms,” she says, “we thought it was the enormity of the act that injured you. But after examining the situation and your abilities more thoroughly, Castle and I found this deduction to be inaccurate.”
“Our energies are never inconsistent,” Castle jumps in, nodding at Alia. “They follow a pattern—an almost mathematical precision. If you cannot injure yourself while breaking through a concrete wall, it does not then follow that you should be able to injure yourself by breaking the ground, only to remain uninjured after breaking the ground a second time.” He looks at me. “Your injuries have to do with your hold on your ability. If you ever slip out of electricum—if you dial it back for even a moment—you will be vulnerable. Remember to be on, at all times. If you do, you cannot be defeated.”
“I hate you so hard right now,” Kenji mutters under his breath. “Functionally invincible my ass.”
“Jealous?” I grin at him.
“I can’t even look at you.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised.” Warner has just walked in. I spin around to find he’s heading toward our group, smiling a brittle smile at no one in particular. He sits down across from me. Meets my eyes as he says, “I always knew your powers, once harnessed, would be unmatched.”
I try to breathe.
Warner finally breaks eye contact with me to glance around the room. “Good evening, everyone,” he says. He nods at Castle. A special sort of acknowledgment.
Adam has a special sort of acknowledgment of his own.
He’s staring at Warner with an intense, unmasked hatred, looking as though he truly wants to murder Warner, and I’m suddenly more anxious than I’ve been all day. I’m looking from Adam to Warner and back again and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if something is about to happen and I’m so desperate for things to be civil that I—
“Hi,” James says, so loudly it startles all of us. He’s looking at Warner. “What are you doing here?”
Warner raises an eyebrow. “I live here.”
“This is your house?” James asks.
Strange. I wonder what Adam and Kenji told him about where they were going.
Warner nods. “In some capacity, yes,” he says. “It serves as my home. I live upstairs.”
“That’s so cool,” James says, grinning. “This whole place is so cool.” He frowns. “Hey I thought we were supposed to hate you, though.”
“James,” Adam says, shooting his brother a warning glance.
“What?” James asks.
“You are free to hate me,” Warner says. “If you want to. I don’t mind.”
“Well you should mind,” James says, surprised. “I’d be really upset if someone hated me.”
“You are young.”
“I’m almost twelve,” James says to him.
“I was told you were ten.”
“I said almost twelve.” James rolls his eyes. “How old are you?”
Everyone is watching. Listening. Too fascinated to look away.
Warner studies James. Takes his time answering. “I’m nineteen years old.”
James’s eyes go wide. “You’re only a year older than Adam,” he says. “How do you have so many nice things if you’re only a year older than Adam? I don’t know anyone your age who has nice things.”
Warner looks over at me. Looks back at James. Looks at me again. “Is there nothing you want to add to this conversation, love?”
I shake my head. Smiling.
“Why do you call her ‘love’?” James asks. “I’ve heard you say that before, too. A lot. Are you in love with her? I think Adam’s in love with her. Kenji’s not in love with her, though. I already asked him.”
Warner blinks at him.
“Well?” James asks.
“Well what?”
“Are you in love with her?”
“Are you in love with her?”
“What?” James blushes. “No. She’s like a million years older than me.”
“Would anyone like to take over this conversation?” Warner asks, looking around the group.
“You never answered my question,” James says. “About why you have so many things. I’m not trying to be rude,” he says. “Really. I’m just wondering. I’ve never taken a shower with hot water before. And you have so much food. It must be really nice to have so much food all the time.”
Warner flinches, unexpectedly. He looks more carefully at James. “No,” he says slowly. “It is not a terrible thing to have food and hot water all the time.”
“So then are you going to answer my question? About where you got all this stuff?”
Warner sighs.
“I am the commander and regent of Sector 45,” he says. “We are currently on an army base, where it is my job to oversee our soldiers and all the civilians who live on the accompanying compounds. I am paid to live here.”
“Oh.” James goes pale in an instant; he suddenly looks inhumanly terrified. “You work for The Reestablishment?”
“Hey, it’s okay, buddy,” Kenji says to James. “You’re safe here. Okay? No one’s going to hurt you.”
“This is the kind of guy you’re into, huh?” Adam snaps at me. “The kind of guy who petrifies children?”
“It’s nice to see you again, Kent.” Warner is watching Adam now. “How are you enjoying your stay?”
Adam seems to be fighting back the urge to say a lot of unkind things.
“So you really work for them?” James is asking Warner again, his words just a breath, his eyes still frozen on Warner’s face. He’s shaking so hard it breaks my heart. “You work for The Reestablishment?”
Warner hesitates. Looks away and looks back again. “Theoretically,” he says. “Yes.”
“What do you mean?” James asks.
Warner is looking into his hands.
“What do you mean, theoretically?” James demands.
“Are you asking,” Warner says with a sigh, “because you are actually seeking clarification? Or is it because you don’t know what the word theoretically means?”
James hesitates, his panic dissolving into frustration for a moment. He screws up his face, annoyed. “Fine. What does theoretically mean?”
“Theoretically,” Warner says, “I’m supposed to work for The Reestablishment. But, obviously, as I’m hosting a group of rebels on this government-owned military base—in my private quarters, no less—and sustaining said rebels so that they might overthrow our current regime, I would say no. I am not, exactly, working for The Reestablishment. I have committed treason,” he says to James. “A crime that is punishable by death.”
James stares at him for a long time. “That’s what theoretically means?”
Warner looks up at the wall. Sighs again.
I bite back a laugh.
“So, wait—then you’re not the bad guy,” James says all of a sudden. “You’re on our side, right?”
Warner turns slowly to meet James’s eyes. Says nothing.
“Well?” James asks, impatient. “Aren’t you on our side?”
Warner blinks. Twice. “So it seems,” he says, looking as though he can hardly believe he’s saying it.
“Perhaps we should get back to the suit,” Castle cuts in. He’s looking at Warner, smiling triumphantly. “Alia has spent a long time designing it, and I know she has more details to share.”
“Yeah,” Kenji says, excited. “This looks badass, Alia. I want one. Can I have one?”
I wonder if I’m the only person who notices that Warner’s hands are shaking.