Lost Energy (13 page)

"No!" I ran, prepared to
tackle the bastard, when hands cinched my waist.

Five of the four cops approached
Farren, their guns raised. One said something like "freeze," while
the two faux cops fumbled for the cuffs hooked to their belts, shifting into
their roles. "We have him subdued. Lower your weapons."

Obviously, the Protectors didn't
have persuasion talents because Robo moved forward, gun still drawn. He jumped
on Farren's back, now three guys "subduing" him, as Ginger's
surprised face found mine. He didn't struggle, though, just put his hands
behind his back, doing everything the cop told him to do. The chaos continued,
the cop holding me letting go to help.

Once they all had him on his feet, Farren,
my brother, looked my way with a subtle nod aimed at the alley by the bank. I snuck
away walking backward into the shadows, grabbing my bag before taking off to Wilma's.

Now all I had to do was figure out
how to bust Farren out of jail.

Easy peasy.
Yeah, right.

WINSTON

O
nce I crawled through Wilma's
window, I threw my pack on the couch and…paced for a while. My nails received a
rough manicure, thanks to all the chewing, while I became an expert at
convincing myself we were all fucked.

What other choice did I have?
Farren getting arrested was a lot better than those assholes taking him to
Exemplar for… I couldn't even think about it. Some time in a jail here would
have a more positive outcome than an energy annihilation there. But how the
hell would I get him out? I wasn't James Bond, for Christ's sakes.

If Wilma would pop in this minute…
I looked up.

Come on down, you're the next
contestant…

Crap, I was pretty damn close to
losing it.

By the time six rolled around, I
flicked on the television to scout the morning news. The fire was the main
story, and so was Farren's arrest. The footage they had of him walking from the
station and getting into the back of a police car made him look like a deranged
killer. Arcus color highlighting his face and being five or six inches taller
than everybody around him had a lot to do with it.

Farren didn't give them his real
name, either. Even though my nerves were raw, or maybe because of it, when the
anchor lady said, "A man claiming to be, 'Magically Delicious,' had no
identification. Authorities are trying to find his true identity, though no
fingerprints are on record…" I laughed until the tears rolled.

Silly Ginger.

Now what…now what…now what…?

I wished a
Break out of Jail for
Dummies
book existed. It'd make things so much–

Lena.

Tarek. I concentrated on his voice,
letting it calm me.

Things are worse than we thought.

That didn't calm me at all.

Avery sent Nicolette with a
message.
Pause.
Exemplar is definitely starting a war, beginning with Empyrean. Cassondra won't
stop until Teenesee is dead and the dimension is under Exemplian control. We
need those people. Now.

Oh. My. God. Guess Exemplar was
pretty fucking ballsy.

Avery said…
Silence
. She said to look for
Winston Candell. He's there in Earth.
Another pause.
Living
in
the same area as you.

"Okay…and…?" I yelled at
Tarek's voice. Inside my head. His stupid pauses…

Contact him by text.
He gave the number
. She said to
tell him the favor is due.

Well, now all I had to do was get
my hands on a goddamn cell. Shit. Walmart, here I come.

Have Farren approach him.
Winston…he's…
A
heavy sigh
. He's dangerous, strong. A notorious Protector known for
his…dislike of anything Exemplian. But he owes Avery. She said he might know
where some of those people are. Be careful. I love you.

I hopped off the couch and exchanged
Wilma's shirt for my own, changing my shorts too. It took five minutes to leave
the house, ball cap low over my face to avoid any chance of recognition. As I headed
to the bus stop, a plan formed.

Winston Candell might be dangerous,
but he'd help free Farren. Whether he wanted to or not.

∞
∞ ∞

I set up the phone and punched in
the minute card numbers during the bus trip back into town. Once the bus
stopped at the drop-off, I rushed to the doors, annoyed by some lady taking her
sweet-ass time, giving the driver a lecture on how to avoid potholes with each
step downward. When I finally made it out into the hot, sweaty morning, my
temper was ready to explode. The woman's lecture was futile. Trying to avoid
potholes in PA was like trying to avoid breathing. And she cost me another five
minutes.

Despite the heat and hunger nagging
me, I didn't stop until I hit Wilma's front door. After pulling Winston's
number from memory, I texted him the message and set the cell next to a bowl of
fake apples in the kitchen. The guy would probably take forever. I'd text him
again after I got something to eat. Hopefully, Wilma had some real food and not
that nasty–

The phone vibrated on the beige
laminate counter.

Holy shit.

All the anxiousness built up
waiting for the reply turned to hesitation. What if the guy was a dick? Worse,
what if he decided to kill me for my guilt-by-association status with Exemplar?

Then I thought of Farren and nothing
else mattered.

I reached for the phone, not really
sure what to expect, but a quick,
Martin's Convenience 15 min,
wasn't
it.

No,
who is this?
Or,
how'd
you get my number?

Whatever.

I grabbed my stuff, along with a
snack cake, and went to meet him.

It took about ten minutes to walk
to Martin's. The parking lot teamed with activity, being the closest
convenience store to the biggest water park in the northeast. People in all
stages of dress pushed in and out the doors, some wearing skimpy swimming suits
and flip-flops. And
some
people should've really considered throwing on
a couple more layers of clothes, especially a particularly hairy guy in
too-tight trunks.

A few people hung out in front, an
older couple making out, some kids asking a few people to buy them cigarettes,
and a guy with dreadlocks slouching against the brick wall, earbuds planted in
his ears. Not knowing what else to do, I leaned on the wall about six feet from
Dreads and waited. I wasn't sure what to look for, but from what Tarek fed my
brain this morning, I pictured someone as big as him. Easy to spot. Next overly
muscled guy who came through, I'd give him a nod…or something. A thumbs-up? I
pulled out the phone. Maybe asking the guy what he looked like would help.

I texted him the question and
slumped to my butt, keeping an eye open for any Protector-like people. Finally,
a big guy with an Abercrombie body sauntered toward the door. That had to be him.
I had no clue why he'd come wearing swimming trunks, but maybe he thought it
wise to blend.

I stood, stretched my back, trying
to act casual, and walked over. After a deep breath, I held out my hand. "I
think you're here for me."

His mouth formed a lopsided grin. "Am
I?"

Cocky, annoying, too hot for his
own good…yeah, I found my guy. "Look, let's skip the whole horse and pony,
okay? Come on. I have a place."

His smile widened. "Damn, I do
love the Poconos." He moved into my personal space and traced a finger
down my shoulder until he held my hand in his. "All I got is a fifty. You
okay with that?"

I backed up, yanking my hand from
his grasp. "Wait. What?"

"All right, seventy-five, but
I'm talking full access to–"

"Save it, asshole." Okay,
so I picked the wrong guy. "I was mistaken."

He came closer. "A hundred,
that's all I can offer, baby." This time when he went to touch me, I
grabbed his hand, bending his fingers until I heard a crack, and kicked out his
knee. After fighting Farren for months, this guy was like beating up my
grandmother.

He lay on the ground, moaning and
whining about how expensive whores were here. I knelt beside him, making sure
to keep my voice at a whisper. "This is what you're gonna do, tough guy. Get
up, stop acting like a pussy, and be on your way." When he stayed put, I
bunched his silky, sun-bleached hair in my fist to assist him.

"Ouch! Stop, you're hurting
me!" He pulled away, his voice shrill as spit gathered at the corners of
his mouth.

I swear the guy had tears pooling
in his eyes. Definitely not Protector material.

"Go on now, Ken, get back in
that fancy car. We don't want no trouble, you heard?" Dreads came up
behind me, his voice like a melody. Almost hypnotizing.

The wuss-bag must've found it
hypnotizing, too, because he limped back to his Mustang. Just like that. No
argument. Stumbled away like he hadn't been beaten up by a girl.

I turned to face Dreads, my want to
tell him to butt out and the inherent need to be polite warring with each
other. "Ah, thanks, man. Appreciate it."

He nodded, a small smile lighting
his dark face. I gave a half-hearted wave and steered around him into the
store, needing a drink. The smell of chlorine mingling with body odor polluted
every air particle in the place. I'd always hated how people thought swimming
in chemically treated pools gave them permission to skip the showers.

I grabbed a water from the cooler,
pissed off. Seriously, fuming. Not only did some dick mistake me for a hooker, but
also Winston didn't bother showing up. A thought hit me:
If you don't come
back, I'll make them pay…

The bastard better show because I
wasn't going back without Farren. Hell, I couldn't.

I went to stand in the checkout
line. Dreads walked in and headed to the coolers, grabbing a soda.

Damn, his arms…more than his arms.
Tattoos painted every part of exposed skin. They were beautiful, like a
masterpiece on flesh. He came up to stand in line and caught me staring. I swung
around, heat creeping up my neck.

He stood so close the beats from
his earbuds vibrated off my back. I should've been annoyed, but he smelled so
good, unlike the sweaty chlorine people from the park. No, he smelled like ocean
and coconuts. Yet when he took another step, making it impossible to move
without touching him, I'd had enough. His cool tattoos and pretty smell no
longer gave him a pass.

I turned. "Hey, I said thanks.
That's all you're getting from me."

He still had that closed-mouth grin
on his face as he bobbed his head in time with the music streaming in his ears.
I doubted he could hear, and so I whipped back around, muttering creative names
under my breath. Language I mastered thanks to listening to Wilma's sharp
tongue.

Four people still waited ahead of
me in line.
Damn it
. For every step I took forward, Dreads was right
behind me, saying nothing, while listening to his music.

I had faced giant squid, angry
Protectors, a fucking Warden. This guy… He wasn't gonna get away with…whatever
the hell he was trying to do.

I circled around on him again. "Backup,
asshole."

He tilted his head, staring at me
with dark eyes so ancient they defied his young face.

"Do we have a problem?"

With pursed lips, he shook his
head. Even over the blaring music, he could hear me, which meant he probably
heard every nasty thing I muttered. Good.

I tightened my hold on my bag
strap. If the guy wanted money, he wasn't getting it from me. Nope, I'd be
keeping my stuff today. He was a lot smaller than Abercrombie and my height. I
could take him.

But in
that moment, that
second, I learned the size-doesn't-matter lesson.

"Even with all the shit you
been through, you still gravitate toward stereotypes." He
tsked
,
wagging a finger. "Shame."

My face went numb. "Huh?"

I think you're here for me.

His lips never moved, but his
smooth voice blared in my brain, repeating the same thing I had said to muscle
boy.

Oh, crap. I swallowed. "Winston?"

He nodded, never bothering to take
out the earbuds.

My mouth opened and closed like a
guppy's, trying to spit out an apology, something confident to say, but Tarek's
warning,
let Farren approach him
, rang in my ears. I didn't give a shit
about that warning when I thought Abercrombie was the Protector, but this guy.
This guy…

"Next!"

The cashier's loud voice drummed
into my head, not really registering.

"Um, kid? You're next."

I switched my attention to the
counter, my legs like rubber. "I'm not a kid."