Bad Boy

———


An hour later I clung to a rusty fire escape on the side of an apartment complex, gazing out over the sleeping city. From far away the lights were a swarm of gold fireflies, flickering as if a finger stirred them. When a breeze broke through the thick heat, tinged with the lake’s coolness and a freckling of raindrops, I felt a wild impulse to swing over the rail, swan dive to the pavement.

Testosterone was supposed to toughen me up. But sometimes it gave me just enough edge to make me a danger to myself.

And to others? Always.

I climbed to the top floor. Night sky above, clouds crumpled like foil paper. The window before me was a grimy mirror. In it, a man clad in Kevlar met my stare. Raindrops spattered his masked face, tiny globes of mercury.

I slid a shim into the window frame, caught the lock and lifted. Chilled air rolled out. No movement. Down in the alley Blythe flicked her flashlight, two blinks. All clear.

I whispered into my headset.

REN: I’m in. No sign of target.

ELLIS: His IP traces there. He’s inside. Be careful.

Inside the bedroom the cool blooms of LEDs pulsed in the darkness. I slunk through the shadows, listening. Dead silence. A too-pure, too-still silence, like something that lay tightened, waiting.

The computer showed a black screen saver. I bumped the mouse.

Some online video game. I aimed my body cam at it.

ELLIS: Something’s wrong.

REN: What?

ELLIS: Look at the screen.

I tilted my chest to give them a clearer view.

BLYTHE: That creature is hitting him.

ELLIS: He’s just standing there in a dangerous area.

REN: Why would he do that?

ELLIS: Because he was interrupted. I think we should abort, guys.

REN: Relax. We just got here.

I pulled the .40 from my rib holster and screwed on the suppressor.

My muscles flexed, every fiber coiling, ready. I sidled through the apartment and paused at each door. Bathroom, kitchen, living room: all empty.

ELLIS: I don’t like this. I’ve got a bad feeling.

BLYTHE: Go back to the bedroom. Now.

ELLIS: Why?

BLYTHE: Because I just saw a shadow in the window.

Goose bumps stippled my arms. I gripped the gun tighter.

When I returned to the bedroom I felt that tension in the air, an elusive vibration. Higher now.

The closet door was wide open. It had been closed when I arrived.

I raised my weapon and stalked toward it. Switched the gun light on, prepared to shoot.

No one. Oxfords and chinos, hanging still.

My shoulders unknit. Light off. I began to turn.

And the shadows in the corner breathed.

My spine snapped straight. I aimed and at the same time heard the swoop of displaced air, saw the darkness arc with motion.

Someone was aiming at me.

“Drop your weapon,” I barked.

Something clicked.

I was a hair from firing when light exploded in my face. It swiveled aside, and the afterimage cleared. There was a woman.

“Drop yours,” she said.

A woman with a smart British accent. The very same one who’d baited me at Umbra.

Cressida.

BLYTHE: Who the bloody hell?

ELLIS: She’s got our target.

A mass of shadow sprawled on the bed behind her. Two faint white gleams. Eyes. The rest of the man appeared to be thoroughly duct-taped.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded of Cress.

“Lower your weapon. Then we’ll talk.”

“No chance. You first.”

“Count of three, then.”

BLYTHE: Don’t trust her.

ELLIS: You don’t have a choice. Just do it.

BLYTHE: I’m coming up.

ELLIS: No. Artemis, stay put. If you barge in she’ll shoot you.

“One,” Cress said.

Our code names represented our primal selves. Blythe was Artemis, the wild huntress, fierce and indomitable, beholden to no man. Ellis was Blue, the boy she was inside. The part of her she’d hidden for so long.

And I was Cane. You know why.

“Two.”

Metal creaked on the fire escape. The duct-taped mummy moaned through his gag.

“Three.”

And this was where I made a mistake.

I trusted my gut and lowered the gun. “What are—”

“Wrong move,” Cress said.

Before I could blink, something struck me in the face.

If I weren’t still battling the dregs of my drunkenness I would’ve taken it like a champ and struck back, but instead I staggered, fell. Flailed wildly and shattered the computer screen, glass talons slashing at my skin. I rolled with the impact. Cressida’s boot stomped an inch from my head and I seized a handful of debris and hurled it, blind. A nebula of shards and dust spun around us.

Cress recoiled. My gun was on her instantly.

“Lower your weapon,” I growled.

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