Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,39
sounding pleased. “How wonderful! You must be Night’s whelp.”
Jet bristled. “He was my mentor.” Why was she answering him? Shut up, Joannie. Don’t give him any ammunition.
“Shadow is genetic. Your mother or father must have been a Shadow too, little girl.”
More flares of light, so bright that she had to release her leash and shield her eyes.
“Tell me. Which of your parents is a Shadow?”
Despite herself, she said, “My father.”
“Not Night?”
“Blackout.”
The lights disappeared, along with the Darkness. From behind, Hypnotic said, “You’re Angelica’s girl?”
Jet spun, summoning Shadow.
“Stop that,” Hypnotic said. “You’re not here to fight, you said. So don’t fight.”
Jet found herself lowering her arm. Damn it, get ahold of yourself, Joan! She clenched her fist. “Let my friends go.”
“What? Oh yes, certainly.” He was staring at her, this tall man with his Earth-power physique beneath those prison grays, his dark hair peppered with white. “But first, tell me about your mother. How is she?”
“Dead,” Jet gritted.
The man’s eyes widened, and to Jet’s surprise, she saw real grief in them. “I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “How did it happen?”
“Let my friends go, and I’ll be happy to give you a family history.”
The man peered at her, his gaze boring into hers. “Take off your cowl, those goggles. I want to see your face.”
“Let my friends go,” she repeated.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” He snapped his fingers. Firebug and Steele crumpled to the floor. When Jet made to run to them to make sure they were all right, Hypnotic said, “They’re fine. Sleeping it off. Side effect,” he said with a shrug. “Now then. Your turn.”
Jet took a deep breath. This, she told herself, is profoundly stupid. But Taser was on his way, and more than that, Jet had this feeling that this man, Doctor Hypnotic, wouldn’t hurt her. Not while she was of interest to him, at any rate.
She wondered, as she pushed back her cowl, if she were getting as arrogant as a Lighter.
“Golden hair,” he said, smiling warmly. “Just like your mother’s. Why do you keep it hidden?”
Surprised by the question, she replied, “Long hair isn’t suitable for battle conditions.”
“But a cape is?” Hypnotic snorted. “Braid it, then,” he said, staring at her pinned-up hair. “So beautiful. You shouldn’t keep it hidden away.”
“I’ll take it up with Branding,” she said dryly.
“Your goggles,” he said. “Please take them off, as you said you would.”
Crap. Jet pushed her optiframes up until they rested on her brow.
He was staring at her, his face rapt. “Just like her,” he breathed. “Except the eyes. You have your father’s eyes.” He reached over to her, as if he meant to stroke her cheek.
She stepped out of reach. This was bordering on creepy.
He murmured, “So tiny. Just like Holly.”
Holly. That was her mother’s name. Her just-between-Angelica-and-Blackout name.
“I’m Hal.”
Just as she thought this confrontation couldn’t get any odder, something else happened. She rolled with it. “Hi, Hal. I’m Joan.”
“Joan,” he said agreeably. “You lost your mother. But tell me, did you ever lose your true love?”
Thoughts of Samson flitted through her mind—his easy laugh, his strong, gentle hands. Jet swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
Doctor Hypnotic paused, studying her. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“I was twenty-two,” he said sadly. “I lost her to someone else. I lost her to a Shadow.”
“My love died,” Jet said, sullen and suddenly angry. “He died on a training mission. He was fifteen years old, and he got killed by an Everyman.”
“So much death,” Doctor Hypnotic said, his voice full of regret. “And so young. I can give you a better world, Joan.”
She let out a small laugh. “I appreciate the offer.” More than she cared to admit. “But I’m duty-bound to this world.” Before she could think better of it, she said, “You can be too. You can help make a difference.”
Doctor Hypnotic smiled. “Why, Joan, what a marvelous idea. I’ll have to think about that. Do you know how hypnosis works?”
Right. That was her cue. “Thank you for being a man of honor, Hal,” she said quickly, taking another step toward her unconscious friends. “I’ll just get out of your hair now …”
“It’s simple, really. You need to distract the conscious mind so that it doesn’t fight you when you whisper to the unconscious mind. Light works well as a distraction. But it’s not necessary, depending on the mind I encounter.” He grinned. “You’re a Shadow power, Joan. You’re practically conditioned to receive my suggestions. Just like your father was, during the so-called Siege of Manhattan.”