Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,27
Lester’s and even Jet’s depended on it. If Corp came back to power, every extrahuman who’d escaped their grasp and exposed their skeletons was as good as dead.
When Squadron: India landed on American soil, there needed to be a compelling case to lock up the men and women responsible for the rabids vaporizing the city. Men like Gordon.
And to do that, they’d need evidence, from someone who’d been a Corp insider.
“Well?” Gordon frowned at her.
Iridium pulled the purse snatcher to his feet as two patrol hovers rounded the corner, waving them in to take custody.
“I’ll be where I’m supposed to be.”
Gordon smiled again. “Good girl.”
Iridium smiled back, feeling ice crystals freeze the expression. “I try my best, sir.”
CHAPTER 12
JET
Aaron is positive that, without additional controls in place, the extrahumans have only 1–4 years before their conditioning breaks down. I think that range is too conservative.
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #51
Stop that,” Jet said for the third time.
Nocturne, struggling against the stun-cuffs, tried to slam her chin into Jet’s face. The purple-clad woman missed, then overbalanced and went crashing to the ground, landing sloppily in the gutter. She was probably so used to phasing through solid objects that she’d forgotten how to roll with a fall or take the brunt on her shoulder.
Jet had little sympathy. Maybe next time, Nocturne would rethink breaking into First National. Light, what was it with former heroes pretending to be villains? Had Nocturne really thought all she had to do was phase inside the bank vaults and that would be the end of it? As if the bank didn’t come equipped with both organic and inorganic matter sensors that automatically triggered a silent alarm when they were tripped? Please. Had Jet been the only one of her Academy class actually to pay attention in the Criminal Minds units?
Well, her and Iridium. And Iri, she was sure, had cheated in those units.
Jet helped the bigger woman to her feet. “Come on,” she said to Nocturne. “You know the cuffs are messing with your balance. You’re just going to get dizzy if you try to hit me.” And if she tried to phase out of them, the cuffs would neutralize her. Painfully.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Jet asked.
Nocturne spewed obscenities so blue that even Were would have blushed.
“Now that’s just rude.” Jet bound Nocturne with a graymatter leash, then summoned a floater to whisk them both to the Sixteenth precinct. Nocturne, not a flyer, shrieked. Loudly. And very, very long, the sound slowly fading to an echo of terror. The woman shuddered, inhaled, then let out another whoop of sheer panic, giving Screamer a run for his money.
It did nothing for Jet’s headache. She hissed as Nocturne bleated, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The pain had begun when she’d stopped relying on physical training and skill against Nocturne and started tapping into her extrahuman power—a subtle thing, then, a stroke of discomfort as Jet had released a creeper of Shadow to startle her opponent. But as the fight had progressed, the stroking turned to knocking, then to pounding. And now her head felt stretched taut and her senses were as keyed up as a junkie’s—colors too vivid, bleeding and raw; smells of pollution and ozone and sweat combating for domination. As Jet and Nocturne soared over Wreck City, Jet pressed her fingers against her temple, massaging, silently pleading for what was surely a migraine to vanish.
And maybe the Light was shining on her, because the other woman’s voice finally gave out. When Nocturne fell silent, Jet breathed out a sigh of gratitude. Her head, though, continued to throb softly.
It’s getting worse.
She knew it in her heart. The headaches were coming steadily now, in rolling waves of pain that lasted for hours. As much as she wanted to say it was due to sheer exhaustion—the last time she’d slept was two nights ago, and she’d already maxed out on caffeine patches for the day—Jet knew better.
Whatever else Corp’s brainwashing had done over the years, at least it had kept the Shadow voices in check. Now, without whatever frequency they’d used to soothe that part of her mind, it was getting harder for her to ignore the Darkness that licked at her thoughts.
She was going to lose herself to the Shadow again.
As they flew, she peered down at the blurs of buildings, the cars and hovers that looked like children’s toys, at the people marching antlike