Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,81
the others to help us. So make it a fast patrol, then come back to get some sleep.” A pause. “Running yourself to exhaustion won’t help Tyler.”
“Don’t,” Jet said softly.
“Whatever. Unless there’s a situation, I’ll expect you here in twenty. Even the rogues and rabids have to sleep sometime.” Ops clicked off.
Jet flew down until she was streetside, skimming the road on her floater as she glanced up and down the blocks, scanned storefronts, checked alleyways. Even the rats in the sewers were silent tonight. Maybe, after a week of nearly incessant violence, the city was finally catching its breath.
No—there, around that corner was a man on his hands and knees, shaking his head as if to clear it. Surrounding him in a loose ring were three figures, youths from the size of them, toughened by their leathers and steel. Grendels, based on their clothing. One of them kicked the man in the ribs, the sound of impact slightly louder than the man’s grunt of pain.
A week ago, Jet would have announced her intentions, given the gang members a chance to surrender peacefully. Tonight, she wasn’t in the mood to play by the book. Gliding over on her floater, she reached out with her power, wrapping all three teens in Shadow. No more hesitation, not after what had happened with Tyler. By the time she was at the man’s side, all three Grendels had stopped struggling. She released the Shadow, the ghost of their light clinging to her power like a desperate lover. Jet shuddered as the blackness sank into her body.
Light … it was so good.
“Citizen,” she said crisply, offering the doubled-over man a hand, “do you need an ambulance?”
“I’m fine” was the reply, more grunts than actual words.
“You shouldn’t be out after curfew,” she remarked, making ready to leave. “Sometimes, bad things happen in the dark.”
“And you would know, eh, Jet?” The man pushed himself up, and Jet was surprised to see it was Commissioner Wagner. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” She steadied him as he wobbled. Light, he looked horrible—in the moonlight, the Shadows around his eyes stood out like a raccoon’s mask. “What happened?”
“My fault,” he answered gruffly, shaking off her help. “Too busy thinking, not busy watching my back. It’s been a long week. Didn’t even get my gun out,” he said with a bitter laugh. “Maybe I’m getting too old.”
“You just need some rest,” she said, fully aware that if Meteorite was listening, she’d be getting an earful when she returned to Squadron HQ.
“Don’t we all.” He lowered his head, perhaps to regain his composure. Just as she was about to inquire if he needed help, he said quietly, “I like you, Jet. I have only respect for you. You should know that.”
Her cheeks flushed. Embarrassed, she said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t. Because unless something changes in the next two days, Lee’s going to officially declare all extrahumans terrorists.” He looked up at her then, meeting her gaze. “All of them. No exceptions.”
She tried to school her face to impassivity. Meteorite hadn’t been exaggerating. Damn it. “Thank you for the warning, Commissioner.”
“You won’t thank me if I’m the one leading the chase to throw you into Blackbird.” He let out a tired sigh, then grimaced as he rubbed his side. “If you can stop this madness, you better do it soon.”
“Understood,” she said softly. “May I drop you off at home, sir?”
A smile flitted across his lips, there and then gone. “I can manage.” He motioned to the unconscious thugs. “I’ll call this in, stay until they’re carted off to a holding cell. And then I’ll catch a ride. You should go.”
Translation: Others in New Chicago’s Finest wouldn’t appreciate Jet’s company. “Understood,” she said again, but this time the word tasted bitter on her tongue. No matter what she did, it would never be enough.
Miserable, Jet soared away. If the commissioner said anything else to her, it was left far behind on the dark, dark street.
CHAPTER 38
IRIDIUM
I thought about leaving once. Corporate put me in a room with a child who can see thoughts, lies. They made it clear I wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t really going to do it, but now I know how important my work is to them. Miranda, I’m so sorry.
—Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated 1993
Hypnotic’s lair was as Iridium remembered it, except for the people gathered around it in twos and threes, staring at nothing, not even blinking.
They were mostly the homeless kids who huddled in the lost corners