Ade's POV
"Get me an update, Callum!" I barked at the Blockbuster Venom–enhanced technician we'd found on the dark web—Callum. He was no Shelim, but he was light-years ahead of most minds on the eastern seaboard. Five million dollars and ridding his mother of cancer had been enough to secure his unflinching loyalty.
"I'm sorry, I can't!" he said, his face turning a deep shade of red as he typed away, fingers blurring faster than any human should be able to. "I can't get our systems back. Everything is down. Comms. Video. Audio. We can't even get a call out!"
"How?" I snapped, slamming my hand down on the metal desk he sat at. It warped and tore. "You have an IQ of 143. You were the best in your class at MIT. How can you be so useless?" I sneered, disgusted by the mere sight of the fidgeting, musclebound man in front of me.
What a waste.
Sakura had reshaped him using her newly expanded gift, turning some overweight, pockmarked faux-revolutionary and thief into a vision of perfection. He had a face and body better men would kill to have, and all the money he'd ever need sitting comfortably in his bank account.
Sakura brought him in as an eventual replacement for Shelim. His greed and blatant disrespect were only tolerated because he was so effective. Now that Artisan had the means to create more Special Grade Sorcerers, she was phasing him out.
"The issue isn't me! It's the hardware whoever is doing this is using!" Callum said, typing rapidly. "No hacker has this kind of hardware. The government, maybe. Or…"
"The Justice League," a low growl escaped my throat as I spun around and stormed out of the situation room. I crossed the hall at a brisk pace, where four metas waited for me along with Ming and Alex.
"Why are we still up here?" Alex demanded before I even stopped moving. "My wife and kid are behind that door. We need to get out there and put that freak down once and for all."
"No," I said simply, turning my attention to the rest of the group. "We need to leave the building and call for reinforcements. This was a joint attack from the—"
Alex stepped up to me, placing a hand on my chest. "I'm sorry, did you just say flee? Call backup? The people in this room could turn half of New York into a smoking crater. Why the fuck are we running away? Artisan put you here to deal with bullshit like this, so why don't you get down there and—"
I swiped my hand lazily to the left, swatting him into the wall hard enough to crack it—but not hard enough to do any lasting damage to Sakura's cash cow.
The new meta stumbled back, stunned, while Ming tensed slightly, loyalties divided. But she remembered who'd trained her. Who'd found her in that gutter in Shanghai.
Good girl.
I turned to face my impertinent student.
"Has fear robbed you of your common sense?" I said, tucking my hands behind my back and taking a small step forward. He flinched. "Or has your success in the human world blinded you, Alexander? Have you forgotten our rules?"
"N-no," he said through gritted teeth.
"You are not a number bearer, boy," I said, "and even if you were, it would make no difference. When I speak, you listen. If you had the strength to protect your family, I wouldn't be here."
"If I had the strength, I'd already be dead in the wilderness in Canada," he shot back, meeting my steely gaze with one nearly as firm.
Artisan had tried, as she might, to quell the fears of the First and Second Grades, but there were those who let their fear drown out loyalty—cynics who were never believers to begin with.
"If you'd been Special Grade, your brothers and sisters might still be alive," I said dismissively. "But you may yet get a chance to redeem yourself."
I turned to face the rest of the group.
"The Justice League and the False Prophet's son have allied themselves and are storming the building as we speak. You might be tempted to try and fight them," I said, my eyes pinning Alex in place. "Don't. Not without a plan. Our goal is to safeguard Alex and his family and prevent the League—or the boy—from getting their hands on any more of our operatives. That includes you now, metas."
They all squirmed when I looked at them.
Kyle Anderson. Zara Adid. Tunde Olayemi. Sanjay.
All chosen because of their exceptional meta-abilities—some with even more potential than the sorcerers I'd trained—but only one was strong or fast enough to deal with the threat we were facing.
"Then what would you have us do?" Ming asked.
I paused, mostly for effect.
"Divide and conquer," I said. "Sanjay—you're the fastest one here."
And I meant that literally. Sanjay's meta-ability was line-of-sight teleportation. He could instantaneously travel anywhere he could see.
I handed him a burner phone, which he barely caught, nervous and jittery. He was sixteen—the same age my daughter would have been, if some cultist scum hadn't cut her down on her first day in University.
I'd personally wiped them out, and it cost me my life. That was when she found me.
I shook my head.
It was hardly the time for nostalgia.
"Crack a window and take Alex with you," I said. "He'll protect you. Call Artisan and say one word: Julius. That should be enough to get her attention."
"What about my family?" Alex demanded.
"What about them?" I sneered. "The League cannot detain them without an articulated crime, and Julius is not that bloodthirsty. They will be safe. Kyle will stay behind to protect them."
"Kyle?" Alex sounded scandalized. "He's degenerate trash!"
"He's also standing right here," Kyle said, waving.
Kyle Anderson was your textbook lowlife. He'd grown up in a trailer park with an abusive father—one he killed at eighteen as part of an initiation into a white nationalist gang. He was no longer covered in their tattoos. Artisan had erased them all with a touch.
He'd been set to be executed when Artisan found and saved him. Officially, he was dead. Unofficially, he worked for us now—forever. The price of a second life and his mutation had put him head and shoulders above nearly everyone we'd recruited.
Telekinesis.
And it was growing.
"Anderson will behave," I said. "You know the rules, don't you, Anderson?"
Anderson laughed. He was twenty-three, with blue eyes, blond hair, and the kind of looks that would have let him have most of the women he wanted—if he hadn't been a savage who'd splattered ink all over it.
One of the many crimes he'd been convicted of was rape.
"I can play nice," he grinned, licking his lips. "Though after the mission—"
"You bastard," Alex lunged for him, but I swatted him aside with a lazy palm, slamming him back into the wall. It groaned. I was nearly certain the building wouldn't survive this fight.
"He's goading you," I said calmly. "You must know that. And you know what happens if he disobeys me."
Alex glared at him, then looked to me with a flicker of fear. "You know he's crazy enough to try."
"He'll die before he gets the chance," I said, though we both knew it was a promise I couldn't truly keep.
"Tunde, Zara, Ming. I called. "You're with me. And don't hold back. We can't afford it."
I walked past them as they gossiped and fretted. Tunde didn't want to fight the Justice League. Kyle complained about being on babysitting duty. Zara was mute, petrified—still adjusting to this new life. It was a pity we had to bring her, but then again, her circumstances had never been ideal.
Reaching under my bed, I pulled out a large wooden crate and flipped it open.
Inside lay an ancient bow covered in markings, Curse Piercer, a blade that had once belonged to my old student, and a quiver of fifty arrows.
I slung the bow across my body, slid the blade into its sheath at my left hip, and secured the quiver to my right side.
With a slow twist of my upper body, I popped my spine.
It had been a long time since I'd had a proper fight. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to it.
Julius owed me the lives of eight students.
Artisan's orders were clear. I couldn't kill him—but I was going to make him wish I had.
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