“I get the point, Al Capone. The guy dead, his family dead, his puppy, probably dead—look, I don’t do that whole murder for fun thing, okay?” I took a sip of the scotch and wished it was a whole glass. The first I’d downed was starting to work on me, though.
“You’ve killed plenty of people,” Cassidy said, “and for less reason than you’ve got with this guy. He killed a lot of people on that bridge, Sienna.” Convenient for her to leave out that her baby had killed a lot more people on the U.S.S. Enterprise before this mysterious vigilante had brought his interstate flight to an abrupt halt. “My estimates put it in the range of over a hundred, probably close to one-fifty.”
I paused with the glass to my lips. The news had only confirmed five or so thus far.
“Jaysus,” Eilish breathed.
Yeah. It had been a bad day for human/meta relations. The best thing I could say about it was that at least I hadn’t been involved in any of it. For once.
“Okay, that’s a point,” I said. “But this event is being treated as terrorism. They’ve locked down the airports, no one’s flying right now, and when they do open up flights again tomorrow, there’s no chance in hell I’m going to be able to get on even a private plane at this point. Security is tighter than your ass right now, Cassidy.” I shrugged a little expansively, but not so expansively I spilled even a drop of precious, precious scotch. “So … what do you expect me to do to pursue this guy?”
She didn’t even blink. “Call your friend the incredible shrinking man and ask for a ride.”
“Can’t,” I said. “He works for Reed, not me, and he’s already been called up.”
That did deflate her slightly, enough to give me a little hope that she might come to her senses. But then I saw the look on her face, and realized it was her running some sort of scenario-style thing in her head, calculating probabilities or figuring out alternate routes like a GPS after you just took a way wrong turn. “Okay,” she said after a second, “we go by car.”
I would have done a spit take, but the scotch, y’know. Why waste it for comic effect? Instead I picked up a water bottle, unscrewed the cap with one hand, took a sip, everyone watching me, and then sprayed it—about five seconds late, but still frigging hilarious. “This is not The Muppet Movie, and you must be for real tripping if you think I am road-tripping across America with either of you.”
“Oof, that hurts,” Eilish said. “I rather enjoyed our Scottish excursion, you know, other than the constant fear of a Scottish ginger burning my very soul out of me.”
“Either you help me or I call Reed and remind him of his obligation to me,” she said, unflinching. “I’m guessing he’s on the case already, and sooner or later he’ll catch up with this guy. Now maybe, in the course of events, he’ll have to fight him anyway, and if he kills him in the process, I’ll get my desired outcome.” God, she really was like a computer calculating odds. “If that’s the case, I’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.” She leaned in a little, flushing as she did so, her skin so pale that the slightest change in mood or emotional state seemed to light her up. “But what if he doesn’t kill this meta? What if he manages to beat him and bring him in with the help of your team? And then he’s forced to kill him to satisfy our bargain?” She arched her eyebrows at me. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I kinda doubt that,” I said, staring at her. I was thinking about dashing her brains out with one punch just to be rid of her blackmailing ass, because as dumb as she thought I was, I could see the box she was trying to put me in here. I could see it coming a mile off.
And it bothered me because … I had a feeling I was going to step right into it. Willingly.
“You’re thinking, ‘Oh, he wouldn’t kill a prisoner just because he owes Cassidy,’” she said, and the hint of a satisfied smile started to creep over her thin lips. “But he’s not the same Reed anymore, is he? I saw him kill that metal bender in Scotland, without a thought, without remorse. He just killed that guy, easy as pie, because he threatened you. Now, Reed owes me—but it’s because of you. So when the obligation comes due—”
“I hope you die painfully, Cassidy,” I said, holding my scotch glass as tight as I could without shattering it. If I threw it at her right now, I could probably—if I aimed it perfectly—kill her with one shot.
Cassidy did not seem moved by my comment. “So you’ll do it, then?” She almost smiled.
She had the right of it. If she presented Reed with this same scenario, could I be sure he’d offer to satisfy her Faustian bargain—the one he’d struck to save my life?
No. No, he probably wouldn’t kill a prisoner. And this guy—this meta, whoever he was—didn’t even seem like the type to go willingly or gracefully, assuming they could find him.
But … at the same time … what if all the stars did align, and Reed’s team beat him without killing him? And Reed was confronted with his debt to Cassidy while in full custody of this vigilante killer who’d helped wreck a bridge that probably killed some people in the process?
Reed … the old Reed … wouldn’t have done anything about it. The killer would go to the Cube, and that’d be that.
But the new Reed? The more … Sienna-esque Reed, for lack of a better word?
Shit.
Who knew what he’d do? Mom eyes be damned.
I felt my breath catch in my throat, and so I washed it down with a long drink of scotch that burned all through my gullet and down to my belly. “I don’t even know if we can find this guy,” I said, waiting for the burning to subside. “I mean, going by car while Reed and his crew are traveling by air? We’re going to be a day late and a dollar short to any encounters. They’ll be two, three hours behind him, maybe five if this guy goes to the West Coast … but we’ll be days from him.”
Cassidy just stared back at me, flat, uncaring, borderline evil. “I don’t care. I want him dead for what he did to Eric.”
I took another breath, and it stuck in my chest again. “What if I can’t deliver?”
She stared at me. “If you give it your absolute best … I’ll consider us square. But if you slack off, back off—generally don’t give it your all?” She sidled up into my personal space. “I’ll know. And I’ll still come to Reed for a favor. One that will exact a toll on him. I’ll choose it carefully—it’ll look innocuous enough, but it’ll take from him in ways you won’t care to see the end result of.”
Eilish let out a small gasp, then gulped. “That sounds … very worrisome.”
I threw back the rest of my scotch, then set the empty glass down. That hitch in my breathing subsided as the alcohol hit home, and I felt my own face flush as though I were Cassidy, a burn starting within. “You have yourself a deal,” I said, grabbing her by the hand before she could dodge away. “But Cassidy … so help me—”