Powered identity, p.2
Powered Identity, page 2
“Why the hell would I tell you that?” the guard spat.
I closed the gap between us, quickly grabbing the hand that held the knife. “Because if you don’t, my friend here is going to give you an up-close look at your insides.”
Harper growled, right on cue. She was a scary bitch, especially when glowing, but definitely not a killer. He didn’t need to know that though.
“Okay, okay!” He let go of the knife, and I tossed it onto a server tower—well out of his reach. “I just work here. I don’t know about any of that!”
Harper stepped forward, and I thought she might actually shift with how brightly she let her eyes blaze.
“Okay!” he yelled. “What are you people? Damn freaks.”
“Spit it out!” Harper snapped.
“I don’t know—" Harper grabbed the front of his shirt and the tough guy whimpered. “There might be something in the office! I’ve seen another one of those boxes behind the desk.”
Harper let go of him with a satisfied smile.
“Thanks!” I hit him across the jaw, putting him down for another nap.
The office was just above us. It only took me a minute to reach the staircase that led to it. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I yelled to Harper over my shoulder as I took the stairs two at a time.
The door was locked, but I busted the mechanism just by twisting the doorknob. Across the small room was the desk. Important-looking papers covered its surface, but I didn’t feel like I had the time to read them. I grabbed a stack and threw them into my bag for Sam to sort through later. Then I shoved the desk aside. The box behind it was similar to the others I had already taken, but obviously different. It was bigger, and black instead of shiny steel.
The unsettling feeling I’d had earlier returned with a vengeance. It sat in my gut like a rock.
“Hurry the hell up!” Harper called.
You’ve done this twice. You’re fine.
I took a breath and grabbed the box with both hands.
The moment I touched it, something cold seemed to leak from it onto my fingers. I couldn’t see anything, but it felt like slime was on me, seeping under my skin.
Icy fear gripped my chest, pushing me to move faster. I ripped the box off the wall with trembling hands. It took considerably more strength than the last one had. Probably because, unlike the last one, the bolts didn’t rip through the back plate. I’d had to pull them out of the reinforced wall.
My fingers suddenly stiffened around the black metal. Without thinking, I dropped the box. It clattered against the linoleum floor, but at that moment I couldn't bring myself to give a shit. My hands felt like they’d stop working if I touched the thing for another second. They looked fine, but the feeling of stiff knuckles and cold slime under my skin had my heart pounding.
Come on, you have to do this.
I shook my hands out.
Just move fast.
I picked up the box and used all my strength to tear into the bottom, trying desperately to ignore the fact that the invisible slime was traveling farther up my arms the longer I worked.
Blue ones, then the white, and then red.
When I pulled the last red wire, the feeling in my hands subsided. It didn’t disappear completely, but it at least stopped creeping up my forearms. I turned my comm back on.
“I found something you definitely need to see.”
“Nova! What the hell have you been doing? Why would you turn off your—”
“Cayde! Calm down, we’re fine!”
“I’ll get the lab ready to examine what you have!” Sam said.
“Will you get out of there now? Please.” Cayde begged.
“Nova! We have more company!” Harper yelled. Sirens rang out in the distance.
I shoved the box into my bag, ran out of the office, and jumped from the top of the stairs down to the first floor. It made my stomach flip every time I jumped from such a height, but it was also fun as hell.
As we headed back to the door, I pulled a small bomb Sam had given me from my pocket. We’d gone on this mission in the middle of the night, intending to blow the place up while it was empty and at least set back whatever plans Crowley had. But just before I lit the fuse, we came to a pile of the guards we’d knocked out.
I rolled the bullet-shaped explosive between my fingers, weighing my options.
These men made their choices when they decided to work for a murderer.
Even if they didn’t know his entire plan, they had to know he was a dick. We were trying to save billions of innocent people! There was a greater good to consider.
But before I could make a final decision, Harper swiped the explosive from my hand. “We can’t kill them.” Her eyebrows raised like I’d just threatened to kill an endangered baby panda, not a bunch of assholes who’d just attacked us. For someone who often acted like she might kill me just for hanging out with her boy-toy, I found it a bit rich.
“But if all he has to do is replace these boxes, then this was a waste of time! We have to destroy all of this tech!”
Sirens wailed just outside.
“We’re out of time,” she said. “We can come back.”
I ran my hands through my shaggy, black hair, pushing it all away from my face. “Fine.”
Police were at the front door, and we assumed the back too, so we headed for a side window. I slid open the glass, pushed out the dusty screen, and jumped into the empty alleyway. Harper followed right behind me. We stuck to the shadows, not relaxing an inch until we were in an alley a few buildings over.
“We’re out, Cayde. Heading toward the car.”
“Thank God. Are you okay?”
“Mostly.” My fingers were tingling, and still slightly stiff. I opened and closed my hands, hoping to stretch away the odd feeling, but only irritated my already-cracked scabs instead.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“The helicopter will wait for you at the meeting point.” His relieved sigh blew into my ear. “I’ll see you soon.” I could hear his smile, which made me smile.
“Can’t wait.”
Harper jumped in front of me. “Last one to the car has to drive!”
Before I could respond, her eyes went bright red again and she shifted into a crow. She soared away from me in the direction of the car. Her black cargo pants and t-shirt were reduced to strips of fabric floating in the breeze.
If she doesn’t have extra clothes, she’s flying all the way home.
Adjusting my backpack’s straps made the metal boxes inside knock together. The mysterious third box weighed more on my shoulders than the other two combined, because the feeling under the skin of my fingers was telling me that whatever it was, it was dangerous.
3
The Garden
David Crowley - five years old
David’s mahogany desk felt hard as a rock against his cheek. The math homework papers between him and the solid wood did nothing to pad his heavy head. Despite his discomfort, his eyelids drooped. And the heavier they became, the more his jaw slacked. Before long, he’d have drool smeared across the few problems he’d solved before succumbing to boredom.
A soft hand ran through his hair, tickling the back of his neck. The touch weaved its way into his blossoming dream—until he heard her voice. “Let’s go outside.”
His head shot up off the desk and whirled around to see her. The loving smile on her face put a warmth in his chest. “Hi, Mom.” He hadn’t expected her for another hour. There were no distractions allowed while he studied.
“Let’s go outside,” she said again. David sat there a moment, staring up at her. They would both be in trouble if his father found out he’d left work unfinished. She smiled at him, raising her brows as if she’d heard his worried thoughts and was answering, “So what?”
She turned to leave. His feet itched to follow her, urging him from his seat. But his body felt too heavy to lift from the chair. As if the entire weight of his father sat in his small lap.
The moment his mother left the room, his heart sped into a gallop. His toes squirmed against his shoes. He spared the work on his desk one last look, then jumped out of his seat. He ran into the hall as fast as he could, following the soft clicks of his mom’s short-heeled shoes. When he caught up to her, she took his hand. “You can help me water my plants today.”
David beamed.
His mother seemed to inspire life with the flick of her wrist. Even when the rest of the world became cold and drab, the Crowley estate’s massive garden was alive with colors and textures.
The moment David stepped through the garden’s wrought-iron gate, the pleasant scent of sweet flowers touched his nose and warmth wrapped around him. It was as if the sun shone more brightly amongst the plants. He abandoned his thick winter coat at the gate.
“This way,” his mother called to him. He rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt as he followed her voice.
Plants of a hundred varieties stretched from the soft ground toward the afternoon sun. Beautiful flowers, in exotic colors from citrine to framboise, stood taller than David. Their petals and leaves seemed to reach for him as he passed by. Other plants growing in small clusters close to their soil weaved around the taller stalks, making walking somewhat of a game. There were no forged paths in this garden, only places that the earth hadn’t claimed. Not an inch of the massive garden was unkept, but the natural landscaping gave the impression that the forest of plants may have sprouted in this place completely on its own, and the fence had been built around it afterward.
“See this plant, love?” His mother held out a green leaf the size of David’s head. He nodded. “Its leaves have healing properties for burns, scrapes, and rashes. If you crush it in your hands, the oils will come to the surface and you can lay the whole leaf over a wound.”
David nodded, committing the leaf’s size and vein pattern to memory. His mother was not classically brilliant like he and his father were. She had no degrees or conventional schooling, but she was her own brand of genius. The information she shared with him was knowledge he treasured more than any of what his math or history professors taught him.
“Let’s turn on the misters and get our watering cans,” she said, smiling.
She let David turn the valve that activated the misters. He was still working on it when he heard a plant crunch under a heavy foot behind him. His heart lurched in his chest. With a hand still on the valve, he became still as a statue—just in case he might be able to stand still enough to escape his father’s notice.
“What are you doing out here?” Henry Crowley asked. His voice was full of the calm rage David had learned to fear. Ignoring the question would only make things worse, but David’s voice died in his throat. He couldn’t will himself to move.
“I asked David to help me,” his mother said. She emerged from a cluster of bushes holding two handfuls of small, red berries.
“You had no right to pull him away from his studying, Rhyn. If you need help with chores, ask the staff—that’s what I pay them for.”
She kneeled down to spill the berries into a basket on the ground. “He’s five, Henry. He has every right to be a child. Besides, I enjoy his company.” Her compliment restarted David’s heart. It gave him just enough courage to turn around and face his parents.
Henry stepped closer to his wife. “If you can’t respect the path your son is on, then maybe you shouldn’t be in his life.”
Rhyn stood. It was like a switch had flipped within her. Her light demeanor vanished and was replaced by a hardness David never saw from his mother. It made his chest clench again. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he was afraid of whatever could make her eyes blaze this way.
“Don’t test me.” Her gaze was piercing. It threatened a wrath no one would believe a sweet face like hers could deliver.
Henry took a step back, his gaze unfaltering, but his unsteady footing giving away the discomfort that had settled in his gut. “I pay a lot of money to make sure David gets the education he needs. I will not have you jeopardizing his future to play with flowers.”
“We do a lot more here than play with flowers,” she said, her voice regaining a hint of its usual tone. “Though, that’s important too.” She looked at David, giving him a smirk.
Henry Crowley’s thick hand slapped onto Rhyn’s arm and squeezed. He yanked her so close to him that their faces nearly touched.
David gasped. He lurched toward his mom, desperate to help her somehow, but he didn’t know what he could do. Heat coursed through his body, radiating outward from his twisting stomach.
“Never disrespect me in front of our son again.” Henry dropped Rhyn’s arm and stomped away.
Once he was gone, Rhyn took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. She looked down at David and, for a split second, genuine sadness flashed over her features before she could put on her smile. “Well,” she said. “Let’s go have some lunch.”
“Wake up, David.” His eyes flew open. They locked onto what little of his mother’s face he could see in the dark room. Her voice was only a whisper that quivered in her throat. David’s stomach tied itself into a tight knot. He’d never seen his mom afraid.
“I have to go,” she said. It was too dark to see her eyes, but he felt sure that she was crying.
“Don’t cry, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek into her chest. He felt her shake with each small sob she tried to hold back. When David let go of her, he shifted to get out of bed. Wherever she was going, whatever was wrong, he would go with her. He would help.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, holding him in place on the edge of his bed. “You can’t come with me, love.”
Those words sent David’s heart racing. She might as well have ripped the floor out from under him. “Why? Where are you going? When will you be back?”
“I’m—” She inhaled sharply, forcing her voice to steady. “I’m so sorry, love.” David reached out for her. His fingers were frantic to latch onto whatever piece of her he could. She caught his small hands and held them in hers. “I love you, so, so much. But that’s why I can’t bring you with me.”
“When are you coming back?” She gave no answer. David’s hands trembled as tears welled in his eyes. “Mommy.” Her hands tightened, gripping his so tight it almost hurt, but David hoped she’d never let go.
“I know you won’t understand this. I know this isn’t fair. But you will be better off here without me.”
“No, I won’t.” Who would love him if she didn’t? Who would hug him, or hold his hand, or smile at him? He would have no one without her.
She kissed his hands. “You will be safe.”
“Please, Mom.”
“I love you, David.” Her hands shook with his. “Please, never doubt that.”
David had no words. Tears poured down his face, and his mind swirled around itself so fast he felt dizzy. He assured himself he must still be dreaming. His mom would never leave him this way. She loved him.
“You are capable of greatness,” she said. “You have so much good in you, and so much power. Don’t let it go to waste. I am proud of you, and I will always be proud of you.”
David heard every word she said, but they were all meaningless. If he was dreaming, then they weren’t real, and if he wasn’t, then they weren’t real either. If she loved him, she wouldn’t leave him. That was the simple truth.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
But as adamant as he was, it didn’t stop him from feeling that his world was crumbling around him. His heart beat frantically.
As his mother choked back another sob, she threw her arms around him. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. Her warm breath on his skin was the most real thing he’d ever felt.
She kissed him on the cheek before standing from the bed. Her movements were slow, as if she were pushing through an invisible force that held her to the mattress. The moonlight streaming through the gaps in the curtains behind her lit her back and shadowed her face completely, but David could feel her eyes on him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again.
When she left the room, the sound of the door clicking closed behind her rippled through David’s heart, leaving a crack right down its middle. For minutes, he remained still, waiting to wake up.
“Please wake up,” he begged. “Please!”
As the night stretched on, dark and unchanging, the crack in his heart grew into a wide fissure that would never fully close.
A week later, the pain in David's chest had barely abated. It was less intense, less sharp, but it still throbbed with every breath he took.
His father saw him only at breakfasts and dinners, and he barely looked at him in either case. There was certainly no talking. Not a moment of consoling, nor shared grief. It was as if David’s mother had fallen off the Earth the night she left, and David was the only one who remembered her.
David went through life’s daily motions, mostly out of fear. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing his father without his mother there to stand between them.
For eight days, he did his schoolwork, respected his teachers, and never shed a tear.
On the ninth day, David sat at his desk, growing tired of the math problems in front of him. His attention wandered to the window. He’d closed the lush burgundy curtains a week ago and hadn’t touched them since. It had been too painful to see the garden she’d abandoned.
Abandoned.
That word felt so harsh in his mind. But there was no way around it—that was what she had done.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the fabric. His small fingers lingered on the hem of the soft velvet before he finally parted the curtains.
His vision flashed red. The fissure in his heart was forced open a little deeper as his blood turned to lava and flooded into the cracks. The garden was gone. It had been poured over with concrete, as though it were never there.
