All the King's Men (The Turning Series Book 1) Page 27

  “What is it?” She asked.

  After considering his words, Morgan took a shallow breath. “You know that bastard King’s going to be out for more blood.”

  Danika scoffed. “Shit… You’re in here half-dead and one of the first things you want to bring up is business…”

  “You’d be the same way.”

  “Because we’re practically the same damn person.” She replied, admitting the similarities with him for the first time ever.

  “I’m going to need that on record, please.”

  Danika almost snorted when she laughed. It was unusual for Morgan to hit her back with some comments without being stern or scolding, but the near-death situation had happened to them twice now, with the roles reversed, so they were open to that change. “That was some stupid shit you pulled, you know.”

  Morgan could barely move but he shrugged. “What? Saving you from more bullets? I thought it was more heroic than anything. Koa took the worst of it.”

  “You both pulled stupid shit, then. How does that sound?” She laughed through her tears.

  “Fair enough.” He reached across to gently place his hand on top of hers, exposing some of the burn marks he’d acquired from the fight, before he’d reached the roof. There was a long scrape along the underside of his forearm, as if it were raked by a serrated blade, and then seared. She winced at the sight but Morgan gently squeezed her hand.

  This was reassurance. Danika needed so much of it, to restore her spirits and her faith in the team. “You’re all I got left, uncle. You can’t die on me.”

  “Look at me,” he beckoned, and she brought her tearful eyes to his. “I promised my brother… your parents I’d take care of you. Can’t let up on that one just yet, now can I?”

  “If you die before me, I’ll kill you.” It was a ridiculous saying but she’d said it to him once before so Danika knew he’d understand.

  “Same here, sweetheart.”

  The two shared a moment, one that would go down in the history books as one of the sweetest moments in Carlisle history. They’d lost several members of their pack and fell away from each other because of it, but Danika realized the truth now more than ever. After all this time wallowing and mulling over her guilt and fear, the thought finally hit home. Morgan was the only one she had left, and they had to move through this together.

  “What about the kids?”

  Danika snapped out of a small daze when Morgan carried on with what she saw as a minor debrief. “Secure. Olivia contacted the authorities. She and Callie made sure they were returned to their homes… the ones we were able to find. We have a few stragglers and Frost said he’d help babysit so… looks like the Alliance’s got a day care service now.”

  “Good.” Morgan smiled, breathing out in relief. They had the room, even with the reconstruction. As long as they were monitored, the kids who remained in the facility would eventually find their way. “So, where’s Charlie?”

  That name. She felt the bones in her hand crack when she squeezed as her rage spiked. Luckily for Morgan, it wasn’t the hand he’d been holding.

  “He’s gone.”

  “What?” Morgan’s thick eyebrows pulled together. “Gone?”

  She pondered her response carefully and went through the series of events in her head. Charlie was the lawyer with the unusual draw, the magnetism that she couldn’t understand. He started out as a liability but he had earned his stripes on the field—and yet, Charlie was to blame for this mess, the reason why two of their own were in the Ward, and the mission was nearly a failure. Charlie had been transitioning through the darkness of absorbing Hyde, already contorted from Dmitri’s his mind-control, and Danika had a front-row seat to watch his descent. He’d nearly choked the life out of Olivia. He’d stolen Olivia’s powers to break away. His strength, however, was unusual, as he burst through the metal door without issue. Was that the effect of Dmitri’s control? She wasn’t sure if she should feel betrayed or ill over the loss. Truth was, she felt both. His deception cut her deep.

  Danika did know that she would refrain from telling Morgan she’d almost shot him that day. If it weren’t for Frost, he wouldn’t be a player on the board anymore if Danika had put a bullet between his eyes. With the state her uncle was in now, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him any of it, since he needed to remain calm.

  Finally, Danika shook her head, swiveling from side to side, with disappointment in her eyes.

  “He’ll turn up, sooner or later.” Morgan sounded hopeful. She wondered how he could keep that optimism going, with everything falling apart around them.

  Danika stopped herself from snapping. “I dunno. Maybe they’ve got him now.”

  “Hey.” Morgan called her attention, and when she turned he nodded for effect. “He’ll come back.”

  She sighed and slowly sat down on the bed between Morgan and the edge, keeping hold of his hand. Even in his human form, his was noticeably larger than hers, but she still held on tight. Morgan welcomed it, knowing that Danika rarely resorted to familial affection. They both needed this, Danika especially. She longed for the warmth and safety from someone she would always love, and would love her. She was tired of feeling alone, and tired of her heart being broken.

  Being beside her uncle was all it took to get her nerves to settle down, but it didn’t stop the wheels from turning in her head. Danika couldn’t get the vision out of her mind, something Dmitri left as a parting gift to spite her, she was sure of it. What she’d seen offered the present, but even some things that hadn’t come to pass. She kept seeing the lonely stool under the bright light, and how Charlie was seated on it. He was alone, in a dark room, with no sound, just like the brig. Her sole focus settled on his eyes, the kind eyes that told her almost everything about him in one glance, or so she’d thought. Those deep brown eyes were once full of hope and confidence. However, his eyes the day of his escape were none of those things, as they flashed between empty and cold to full of regret. Charlie was the catalyst, the core of where this journey began. He was an extraordinary force, one that caused rifts as quickly as he could mend them and was a mystery even to himself.

  “Dani… what is it?” Morgan had picked up on her discomfort, and tilted his head toward her.

  Her jaw tensed. Again, she had to tread carefully, explain what she deemed necessary for the time so Morgan wouldn’t panic. “I… I saw something before. Dmitri showed me something that came true. But I don’t think it’s over.”

  “What did you see?” He asked.

  “If they have him, I know they’re going to use him. If they do—i-if he’s against us? We’re fucked. We’ve seen what he can do, he’s a goddamn weapon, and we let him—I let him get away because I was fucking stupid! He almost killed Olivia. We all could have gone down with those explosions, and now he’s out there and it’s only a matter of time before we find out whose side he’s really on.”

  Morgan sighed, dejected. He stared somewhere beyond Danika to chew on that thought. His brown eyes were deep set, showing dark circles from exhaustion. He brought his gaze back to his niece and gave her hand a soft squeeze. “So, does this mean you’re with us?”

  Until now, Danika’s reflex was always to say: no. Monroe and her husband’s death had kept her away, but Charlie was a link back. Franco, too. All roads were leading her back to this place. She’d been separated from her family and friends for long enough. The Powered community, shaken by King’s irreverence, was a more than reason for her to get her back into gear. They might have won the small battle versus against him, but with him succeeding in his mayoral campaign, things were only going to get worse from here.

  All of the decisions she needed to make had come to a head and there was no time like the present to choose where she stood. Walking away was no longer an option; she’d invested far too much at this point to leave it all as is.

  Danika was, whether she liked it or not, a member of the team.

  The Nightingale.

  She se
t her gaze onto her uncle’s tired face, and nodded. “Yes.”

  ~*~

  I didn’t want to go back.

  I didn’t want to have to suit up again and use my powers for anything other than to stop the rowdy kids from tearing up DZ’s place or save some poor old sucker from a mugging in an alleyway. When I lost Carter, my parents, and my siblings, I swore all that Team Superpower stuff off. I just wanted to sit and drink in my apartment, work the daily grind, stay low and out of sight.

  Out of trouble.

  Before I met Charlie Matthews, you couldn’t pay me enough to get back into the bunker and now… here we are.

  Augusta needs heroes. Someone to throw on some cape-and-tights getup and swoop in to save the day. But we’re no heroes. Maybe the others, but not me. People look up to their idols and I’m not a model citizen; I’m not a model anything.

  But Alton King is the reason why I went back. Promises of making the world a better place would only be fulfilled if he and his men were out of the equation. We got Franco out of the way, but he’s just one out of the whole court of assholes joining up with King for the sake money, power, or it just looking good on their resume.

  Scumbags.

  I won’t rest until we stop them.

  All of them.

  And wherever the hell you are, Charlie…

  I’m gonna find you.

  The Man in Blue

  “The celebration roars on at Grand Regal Hotel, as Alton King has won the race to become Mayor of Augusta…” The voice of the anchor was drowned out by the bustle of the coffeehouse.

  This place was a nice little escape from the usual stuffy, high-rise restaurants with exclusive clientele; those frequented by people with money bursting out of their ears about as quickly as they could drink through thousand-dollar bottles of champagne. This coffeehouse was busier than he wanted it to be, but it was neutral territory, and those were the orders. Plus, it granted him a peek at the general populace. The atmosphere was pleasant even with the activity; the folks were laughing, talking, having an enjoyable time. This sort of crowd made for good cover and conversation, which is probably why the others preferred to meet here over any other place in the strip mall.

  He’d sipped at the tiny cup of espresso, as silly as it might have looked in his hands. Maybe he was a little overdressed for the occasion too, in his trademark suit, blue tie, brown shoes, and boldfaced watch, with a coffee colored, 22-millimeter strap to match. He set the cup on the saucer, sat back in the booth, and waited. He eyed his watch, waiting to hear the ding from the bell over the door, indicating his appointment had arrived. It was two to four. An entire day hadn’t yet passed but it sure felt like it. He was on his second shot now, which should have made him jittery, but even though he was unusually still for that amount of caffeine, he was becoming impatient.

  Then the bell jingled, and a wobbly little fellow, wider than he was tall, with a beanie cap to cover his hair loss strolled up to the counter to place his order. It wasn’t yet winter, but he was excessively bundled up in a coat over his hoodie. At least the clothes he was wearing were clean smelling. He’d slipped into the booth, casually, gripping tight to the cardboard cup of the house brew with more sugar content than a Frappuccino.

  “I’m here. Now whaddya got for me?”

  Before looking at his new company, the man in the suit looked at his watch again.

  4:02.

  He sighed. “You’re late, James.” He shook his head, his expression was kept neutral, his steely eyes void of any sympathy as he finally looked up to his informant.

  A chill rolled up his spine. James cowered, though his eyes lit up in surprise, and he’d turned up his defense. Yet, he scoffed. The clock above the barista’s head said he was right on the money—and it wasn’t his fault they took forever to assemble his drink. Yet he held his tongue. It wouldn’t do him any favors to talk back to anyone in the King’s court.

  The man in blue sighed, rolling his eyes almost. “At any rate, just don’t let it happen again.” He took another slow sip of the espresso, before setting it down again. “Your new task is simple, James. There’s someone in town. A few “someones”, actually. Apparently, like the rats they are, they’ve gone completely underground. They’re capable, if you catch my drift, but we have information that will help you take one down, if you get too close. These “someones” have committed some acts that do not sit well with my employer.”

  James was practically bouncing in his seat. “What, did they kill someone? Steal something from you? From him?”

  The man in blue’s narrowed. James seemed to strike a nerve. Not only was it his pet peeve to be interrupted, but when an informant started asking too many questions, that was crossing a line.

  “Sorry, sir.” James dipped his head low and took a huge gulp of his coffee. The hard swallow was clearly audible, even over the patrons’ cacophony.

  “Stop shaking, James. I’m hardly here to kill you.”

  “Uh…”

  “If that was my intention, I would have done so already.” The man had a devil of a grin as he grasped at the demitasse for a moment, but he didn’t raise it to take a drink. “All the information you need is here.” The man tapped the manila envelope in front of him. “We grabbed information on three of the intended targets. Unfortunately, we don’t know how many may be involved, but these are high priority. Your job is to find them. Information only. No deaths. My employer wants them alive.”

  “I-I’ll find out what I can, but I w-want double.” James’ eyes were still down, focused on his cup and nowhere else.

  The handler’s jaw flexed. The mug was still in his grasp, but instead of looping his finger through the handle, he twisted it on the saucer, at its base. He didn’t blink when he stared at the man, sitting back, seemingly frozen in place for a moment as he processed the request. Money was always something that came into play. The informants, the flies on the wall that swooped down on every crumb, every little speck of shit in the city, constantly wanted more money. Even though he had quite a bit of expendable income, thanks to his employer, he thought it’d be nice to watch the little man squirm.

  Finally, he moved, tilting his head some as he continued to eyeball the man across the table. He clicked his tongue. “You are a brave one, aren’t you? Alright. If you want to double down on this opportunity, I have a secondary target. Not for my employer, but for me.” He folded his hands together on the table. “There’s another player in this game. It might be tricky. It could be dangerous too, but you will be compensated for your work.” With that warning, he reached into his coat pocket and slid over a smaller, white envelope. Hopefully the man knew not to open it here. “I need you to get in touch with this man. He’s a junior partner at the one of the most well-known firms in the city—or at least he was. We don’t know where he is now. Poke around at the law firm downtown. Brightman, Bullock and Associates. That might give you an idea of where to start your search. I assume you’ve heard of it?”

  When he found that it was safe enough to speak, James just shrugged. “Ain’t know nothin’ I ain’t paid to know about.”

  “Hm,” He grinned, one that screamed of ill-intent, as the informant pushed again for more money. As that grin melted away, the handler’s lips tightened and even twitched as that expression blossomed into a glower. He had a fair amount of patience about him if things seemed reasonable. However, he didn’t like to be tested, especially by someone in the lowest ranks like this fellow. Like James.

  The Powered registry had laws in place that they had to abide by, and he was on strict orders from the boss to make sure that nothing happened to expose them here, on neutral ground. Nobody wanted to fall out of King’s good graces.

  He continued, “It’s safe to say that we have compensated you well for the duration of our arrangement. Now, I know I might be asking too much from you. It’s a lot to throw in one basket, so to speak.” Perhaps it would have been better to stop there, but he tugged at that thread one more tim
e. “It would be a shame if little Jimmy Jr. was unable to play football anymore. And sweet Marjorie. Isn’t her sweet sixteen just around the corner?” He tilted his head with his inquiry, a twist of the knife, a teasing jab. It was dirty; it was a low blow, a tactic he thought he’d never have to use with this informant, but with his patience wearing thin and being pushed to his boiling point in a matter of moments, there had to be something that taught James he should never press back. “After everything we’ve done for you and your family, I don’t think it’s fair for you to think that we wouldn’t pay you for a job well done as we have so many times in the past. Do you think that’s fair, James?”

  “Nooo!” James shouted. The outburst was jarring and caused heads to turn toward them. “No! That’s—I—Please no!” James was caught unawares, struck by panic, nearly rendered to tears. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dmitri! Please—my family—don’t hurt them!”

  “STOP.” It wasn’t an exclamation, but it was just loud enough for him to get a handle on the situation before it escalated any further. Mr. Christophe Dmitri watched as the entire world around him ceased to move. People were smiling with bright eyes, mouths open mid-laughter, even a young man, a university student, across the café was about to sneeze. His contorted face might have made Dmitri laugh, if the circumstance was different, if the informant hadn’t erred so grievously. Still, he couldn’t help but marvel at the masterpieces he’d come up with each time he did this to more than one person or thing at time. Even the coffee machines that were spouting off liquid had frozen mid drip. Not a single thing in the coffee house moved, breathed, blinked, except for Christophe and James, but the latter was now quietly sobbing in his chair.

  It was like they’d walked into living scenery, people were props Christophe was tempted to tip over, courses he was ready to change (like dumping a cup of hot coffee on the scumbag yelling into his Bluetooth about his yacht so everyone could hear how important he was.)