The kid lives in one of the shadiest parts of the Swamp—Crescent Homes—a dilapidated housing project that smells of sulfur from the paper factory on the other side of the Harbor. The apartments are well known for crime and violence. There’s an entry gate, worked by two young men in matching camouflage. They look official. They aren’t. Jensen explained that the housing projects are guarded not by security—but by the gang members and drug dealers who want to keep track of who is coming in and out of the area.
Astrid avoids the front entrance and runs down the side, easily climbing the stone wall that separates Crescent Homes from the rest of the area. She drops quietly to the ground and makes her way through the dark buildings looking for Luby’s apartment.
Crime is public and pervasive as she creeps through the area. Shouts come from inside homes. Beer cans litter the streets. A syringe cracks beneath her feet. Pixie Dust isn’t used down here—that’s a drug for the wealthy, it’s about leisure. It’s about Neverland. Something Demetria says she wants to bring down here, but Astrid can’t see how she plans on accomplishing it. She thinks about the echo she got off of Luby at the school. His grandmother is sick. He’s desperate. These people need help. More than she or any of the other supers from Project 12 can give them.
She locates Luby’s building but something holds her back. She senses a body in the shadows. Bulky. Heart rate even. She catches a scent over the stale cigarettes, urine, and sulfur. Something sweet. Clean.
Looping around the building, she takes a left instead of a right and curves around a car with no tires, up on blocks.
“Dammit, not again,” she says, throwing her hands up when they come face to face. Well, face to shadowy face because his hood cloaks most of his features, but she knows his smell. His body.
“Echo. I wondered how long it would take you to notice me.”
“Too long, Mr. Perfect,” she admits, crossing her arms and leaning against the car. “This is the third time. Why are you stalking me?”
“Third?”
“Picking me up off the street, the night of the fire, and now this.”
“I wouldn’t call it stalking. More like protecting my boss’s investment.”
Astrid narrows her eyes. “She knows you’re here?”
He doesn’t reply, because perfect people can’t lie. The minute she touched his hand under the table at Demetria’s dinner, she knew his every thought. His motive and nature.
Seriously though, he’s perfect.
And one of them.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Astrid says. “Can we cut the shit, Junior.”
Even Mr. Perfect is surprised when she calls him by his real name and it’s written all over his face.
“Yeah, I get it now. I mean, I had a feeling. I’m getting better about identifying the other survivors as time passes. A lot of that has to do with how close I am to Quinn and Owen. We’re delving into our memories together—exploring our power. It brings out a specific bond and when I come across someone else, I can feel it, and the other night at dinner I took a risk and read your echo.”
The surface of Draco’s echo wasn’t much more than what she sensed just being in his presence, but she used her newfound skills to push a little deeper. The PD-1 let her in.
Astrid, with three hats covering her head, holds Harry in her arms and lurks in the shadow of the garage. The older boy is in there. He’s always in there, listening to music, lifting weights, stacking them heavier and heavier with each pass. The rest of the kids in this place are freaks, she knows that. She is that. But this one? He’s something different. Maybe a god like the man in the movie. The one with big muscles and the hammer.
If he knows she’s there, he says nothing. Which is what she wants—to be invisible beneath the layers of clothing. When the garage door opens she slinks back, surprised to see Rosalie enter the garage.
“Junior, there you are. The car will be here soon.”
The car. It’s his day to go to the doctor.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you carry in the garbage cans before you go?”
He nods and she eyes the weights on the barbell. “You be careful.”
“I am.”
She smiles and closes the door. He’s helpful, unlike the other boys, and Ms. Rosalie prefers him. Astrid watches as he lifts the bar off the rack and raises and lowers the weight off his chest. His biceps bulge and his chest heaves but she can tell it’s not a challenge. Like the rest of them, he just wants to control his gift.
He racks the weight and sits up, sweat spreading through his shirt. Astrid shifts, knocking into a can of paint, but Junior doesn’t look up. He just says, “You don’t have to hide.”
Fear blooms in her chest at being discovered but she senses no danger with him, so she walks into the light.
“How long have you been watching?” He reaches for the cat and scratches Harry’s ears. The cat bursts into a deep purr.
“Just a little while.”
“Astrid, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you wear all those hats? Don’t you get hot?”
She shakes her head. “It’s the only way I feel safe.”
The older boy nods in understanding and eases to the edge of the bench. “Did you see how strong I am?”
“Yes. Like the man in the movies with the hammer.”
He laughs, and it lights up his whole face. “Maybe not that much but yeah, I’m pretty strong. If anyone bothers you in here, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay.”
He tugs at her felt ears and moves to clean up the gym. Astrid feels safer than she has in a long time. The security stays until later that afternoon when she watches from the back step as Junior gets into the black SUV.
He may be strong, she thinks, but he still has to go to the doctor like the rest of them, and that makes her tug her hat close down over her ears.
“Why are you really following me?” she asks.
“Because I think you’re a good person and I believe in what you’re doing, and right now you’re running between two very powerful people: Demetria and Kincade. I don’t want you to get trapped in the middle of their gunfire.”
Seems a little overdramatic. “I’m just down here to check on a kid.”
“A kid that Kincade wanted dead. He and the other taggers were supposed to go up in that fire. You spooked them and they got away. You don’t think he’ll come back and clean up the damage?”
“What about your boss. You don’t think she can stop him?”
He chooses his words carefully. “I’m not sure she even knows how to do the right thing. She may think she’s helping people, but as you’ve seen, her reality is a bit skewed.”
She snorts but his words make her uneasy—nauseous. He’s right. They’re caught in the middle of a much bigger war.
“Why are you working with her?” Everything she gets off of him, from his echo, the memories and his basic emotions imply he’s a good guy. She’s not getting any kind of bad vibe off of him.
“That’s complicated.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Really? Your story isn’t complicated? How you got in that suit? Your friends? Your mentor?” It’s the first hint of anger she’s seen from him.
“We took the drug modifier you gave us, and I read your echo at the party.”
“I know. I sat next to you on purpose, to give you that opportunity.”
Of course he did. “You think this parade is going to be a disaster, don’t you.”
“I know it will. She can’t do it any other way.” He swallows and they’re quiet for a minute as a car with loud bass shaking the windows passes by. Two dumb kids with mohawks pass a cigarette back and forth in the front seat. “Demetria found me a year ago. I’d been living and traveling the world with my mentor, Emma. She was a scientist and professor that mostly spoke at universities and conferences as a guest. I was waiting for her to come back to our hotel after an event in Brazil. She never returned. The police found her body a week later.”
“I’m sorry.” Words aren’t enough. She knows that.
“I had no idea what to do with myself—but I knew enough about the project to start digging around. I found Demetria—she wasn’t really hiding.”
“Did you know about the rest of us?”
“Not before. Emma never told me anyone else survived and when I found Demetria I was just relieved. It felt good to be around someone that understood. She’s the one that told me about you and the others.”