“Now, I was assured you’re a strong Spark. You can get the Dust to make anything work, whether you’ve seen it before or not,” he said.
Like so many others, obviously Reyes thought that the power to create or store energy was due to a Spark’s ability to force the Dust to do one’s will. They didn’t understand the truth of the Dust, any more than any of them understood what it really was. Everyone had a theory—a virus to which Sparks alone were immune, invisible aliens working to keep humanity weak, even that Dust was the final ruse of the old government meant to hide an evolutionary shift. The Tribulationists believed Dust, and the Sparks themselves, were a sign of their god’s displeasure.
They were all wrong. The Dust was alive. It wanted to help. She wasn’t special because she could force it to do what she wanted; she was special because she knew how to ask. She knew how to listen.
“You’re assuming I haven’t seen whatever you found.” She wiggled her outstretched fingers at him for the item. She hadn’t been told what the object was, but her brother’s contact had assured her that if she made Reyes happy, she’d earn a regular client.
“I am. Yeah.” Barely contained laughter danced behind the words. He settled it onto her palm.
Why all the mystery, gentlemen?
Whatever it was, it was illegal as hell. But then, so was she. Females as powerful as she was didn’t exist, and the Council scoured what was left of the world to make sure of it. Lena made a noncommittal noise and turned away as she began unwrapping the package.
From his behavior, she could tell he’d brought her an antique object to charge. Most of her business was in batteries and capacitors. City people often ran out of the rations of electrical charges earned through work before they got through the month. The unsympathetic Council of Nine didn’t promise the people in its walled cities an easy life, just protection and an opportunity to work hard to earn a taste of electrical luxury.
People scavenged or bought black market copper and aluminum. Once they added some salt water—even lime juice would work in a pinch—they could build a battery. But the things weren’t all that strong. What they really needed was a homemade capacitor. And, of course, a Spark willing to break the law to charge it. Enter Lena, and her black market talents. Demand was high.
“Is this a straight charge of a refurbished item, or will you need me to custom fit a capacitor into it and charge that?” Before he could answer, she finished unwrapping the object. A shock of recognition flashed through, and she spun around, arm extended stiffly to thrust the item back at him.
“Danny’s rep would have explained the rules to you,” she bit out, referring to her brother. “No powder weapons of any kind.”
There was risky, and then there was stupid. She didn’t do stupid. And Reyes wasn’t nearly as beautiful now that she knew he was a dumbass who was perfectly willing to give stupid a try.
“Take it and go.”
He grinned as he shook his head. “It’s not a powder weapon.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? It’s a gun.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She glowered at him. “Take. It. Back.”
He sighed and tilted his head. “It’s not a gun.”
She closed her hand around the weapon and cocked her arm back. He spoke rapidly then, hands up to forestall the throw.
“It’s not. It doesn’t shoot bullets. It shoots little barbs that are attached by wires. It isn’t long-range. And it doesn’t even hold bullets. It uses electricity. No powder.” He licked his lips. “Look at it. Look at it.”
She did, not sure what to look for outside of general shape. Powder weapons were rare and forbidden by the Council. Only the Council’s agents, those who policed each of the nine zones, had use of the old weapons. It took a strong Spark to overcome the Dust’s effect on powder. While no one knew exactly what Dust was, they did know what it did. Inhibiting combustive reactions was one those things. Agents, the men who’d been sent to the Ward School as boys and gave their youth up to train their native gifts, could get the Dust to fire powder. They were the strongest of the Sparks.
Her lips twisted. Yeah. Right. She was the exception. But her father had made it clear any girl strong enough for the Ward School wouldn’t go there for training. She’d go and disappear.
She examined the weapon. Guns fired bullets out a hollow barrel. The front of this thing had two flaps, one atop the other, and beneath them, small twin holes with tiny tips perched within. She flicked a fingernail over the top of one.
“If you open the handle, you’ll see there aren’t any bullets. There’s a battery pack,” he said. “Electricity. Not combustion.”
She turned it over again, found the small latch, and pried apart the handle. Nestled inside was an ancient, corroded battery pack.
“See? I told you. It’s not a gun. It’s called a Taser.” The laughter was back in his voice. It was light, almost a chuckle.
The sound of it could soothe any raised hackles, except for hers.