Subject Seven (27 page)

Joe shook his head and smiled again as he moved closer to her. He looked her from head to toe, and Gene could see that Joe had that much in common with Hunter. They both thought Kyrie was hot.

“Yeah. We each have two lives. Now, which sounds better? Two lives that switch whenever they want to? Or taking turns?”

Kyrie thought about that for a moment and conceded. “Taking turns, I guess.”

“Maybe she can't fix us. But she should be able to help us work out something. I don't like Hunter. Hunter doesn't like me. But I can live with him being around if I know I can have a life and schedule things. Seriously.”

Gene managed not to speak. He was good at reading people. He had no doubt, however, that Joe Bronx was lying through his teeth.

WHEN THEY WERE OUTSIDE and standing together, it all felt surreal. She was cold enough to wish she had a jacket. Only a few minutes ago she'd been watching fighters kicking the crap out of each other in an abandoned office, and all around her the world was still going on like nothing had happened.

Kyrie looked at the lot she was stuck with and tried to make the best of it. That was what her folks had always taught her. Find the positive. Here she was standing with people who were, for better or worse, like her. They were adopted, but it was more than that. They were, well, they were freaks, just like she was.

She wasn't used to this. Not long ago the biggest challenge she was facing outside of Mr. Summer's calculus class was whether she was going to the movies with Luke Harper or Dan Fielding. Now? She wasn't likely to go on a date with anyone again unless they managed to find Evelyn Hope and get some answers.

Tina, the only other girl in the group, was looking at her with a hard expression. That seemed to be the only sort of expression the girl could make. Tina gave away nothing. She was the sort of girl that always left Kyrie feeling uncomfortable. And yet here they both were, stuck together unless they could find out how to fix whatever the hell had broken inside of them.
Others. That's what Joe called them. Our Others. All the bad stuff we don't normally like to let out. All the things we're supposed to keep inside and never, ever show to other people.

The other personalities that were hiding away, sleeping inside of them. The scary, strong creatures who were capable of very bad things. She thought about the blood she'd already washed off her hands, blood from at least one trucker, maybe more.

“Screw this,” Kyrie said. “We need to find that bitch.”

Joe looked her way and lifted one eyebrow, an amused grin spreading on his handsome features.

Gene looked at her and opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying anything. He was good at that. She could see he wanted to say more, but he was waiting to see if someone else would say it for him. It was safer that way, maybe. She wasn't quite sure what she thought of him yet.

The Other who was Cody opened his mouth to speak, but she pointed a finger at him. “And what am I supposed to call you, anyway?”

“What?”

“You aren't Cody. So what's your name? What do you want us to call you?”

He contemplated that for a moment, his face unreadable, his eyes locked on hers. “Call me Hank. I like the name Hank.”

“Hank it is.” She exhaled a deep breath. “We need to get to Chicago; how are we getting there?”

Tina stared Hank up and down for a minute. “Joe has a fake ID. We rent a car.”

“How do you know I have an ID?”

She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her narrow hips. One eyebrow lifted and the expression on her face dared him to disagree with her. “Rented a hotel room. A nice one. That means you have an ID and probably a credit card. So I guess you better rent a car.” She crossed her arms and stared daggers at him. Kyrie watched. She could see that he wanted to argue, wanted to step up and put Tina in her place, not because she was wrong, but because he was the sort who needed to be in charge. Tina was testing him.

He stared long and hard at Tina, who in turn kept her eyes locked on his, not giving an inch. Kyrie envied the other girl for that. She was tough as nails.

“Fine.” Joe's smile was tighter now, not as friendly. “I'll rent a car.”

“Good. We'll go back to the hotel and pack anything worth taking.” Tina looked him over again and then turned her back on him, dismissing him. Kyrie watched Joe's face grow nearly murderous for a moment. “We'll meet you back at the room.” With that she started walking, her lean hips moving like she was on a mission.

Kyrie looked after her for a moment, then looked at the boys. She shrugged and started walking.

A moment later, Gene was running after them, trying to catch up.

Joe and Hank stayed behind.

Kyrie looked at the other girl as Tina let out a piercing whistle and held out her hand. A moment later a cab pulled up.

She climbed in without blinking and told the man to take them to the Stevenson.

They were on their way a moment later, and both Gene and Kyrie stared at Tina with a new appreciation.

Finally Tina turned and looked at them after rolling her eyes. “What? Spit it out.”

“You just totally blew him off.” Gene's voice was almost awestruck.

“I'm tired of him always telling everyone what to do. He wants us running all over the place, he's gonna have to make life a little easier for us.” She had a scowl on her face that made her seem not only more aggressive, but also older. “I ain't staying in some damn dumpy hotel all the way to Chicago. I already did that all the way up here. And I'm not hopping another train if I don't have to.” Her accent seemed thicker the more she talked, and once she started actually saying things, she talked as fast as a machine gun. Kyrie was nearly winded just listening to her.

HANK LOOKED AT JOE and said nothing, but a smile played around his mouth.

Joe ignored Hank for a moment, reflecting on the stranger that had gotten away. He
shouldn't
have gotten away. He should have been lying on the ground broken into pieces. He'd slammed the boy into the ground hard enough to shake the floor under him. And there was something familiar about the kid. Not someone he'd met recently, but he was familiar. Was it someone he'd left alive at the compound when he'd escaped? Possible, but not likely. He was too young. Joe'd had plenty of dealings with the underworld since he got himself free of the compound, and it was possible that he knew the man from there, but the same problem existed. He was simply too young.

He pushed the thought aside. It was distracting him and he had to deal with whatever the hell was going through Hank's mind. He couldn't take the self-satisfied smirk any longer, so he turned to the other. “What?”

“She spanked your ass.”

He jabbed a finger at Hank. “You'll learn soon enough. You have to pick your battles.”

“‘Preaching to the choir.'” The way he said it, the exact phrasing, made Joe understand that he was being quoted.

“Oh, really?”

Hank snickered and moved in closer. He stepped with the same grace as Joe himself, a predatory pace: his feet barely touched the ground and his legs didn't rise and fall but shuffled softly. Even if he had walked on loose floorboards, a person would barely know he was there.

“You said it yourself. I'm not Cody. We aren't all that much alike either.”

“Yeah?”

“Cody's all impressed by you.” Hank's dark eyes looked him up and down with a flicker of contempt. “Me? I got your number.”

Joe closed his eyes and looked up to heaven. He didn't need to put up with egos.

“Sure you do, Hank.”

“I do.” Joe started walking away. “I felt you in my head earlier.” His voice was low and conspiratorial.

Joe stopped in his tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“The others, they think you can just talk to us in our minds. Me? I know better. I felt you digging around in my skull.” His voice grew darker as he spoke, developing an undercurrent of hatred. Joe turned back to look at the other Hyde and saw the business end of one of the cops' pistols pointed at his head.

“What are you doing?” Was he afraid? A little bit, which was more than he was used to. Hank was just as fast as he was, which meant it would be almost impossible to dodge in time. As fast as his reflexes were, it wasn't the bullet he dodged when someone aimed. It was the position of the barrel. The problem was that Hank would be able to see him start dodging to the side and compensate.

“Pointing a gun at you. Duh.” He let out that little sniggering laugh again and Joe had to force himself not to snarl at the challenge. Anger would get him dead.

“There are people around here, dumb ass. You want to get a few hundred cops on your stupid back?”

Hank shrugged. The barrel of the pistol never wavered. “Got two more guns under my shirt. I'm not really worried.”

“Look, of course I read your mind. You'd do the same thing if you could.”

“Yeah, I would.” Hank moved closer and flipped the gun in his hand so that the barrel pointed at the ground. Without hesitation he pressed the catch on the side of the grip and ejected the clip. “Safety's on. I just wanted to make sure you're paying attention to me.”

“Fine. You got my attention.” The growl came out now. He was furious. “Say what's on your mind.”

“You wanna work together. Cool. It's all good.” Hank showed him the pistol, dangling it by one finger. “Here's the thing, Joe. You aren't the only one who's different. I watched all of you. Like you watched us. Bet you didn't catch this part, though.” His heavy hand clenched around the pistol and strained. The thick muscles of his arm corded and bunched and a moment after that, the metal started to bend into a new shape. Hank strained, his face wrenched into a mask of ugly hatred and bared teeth, and then he relaxed and held out his hand for Joe.

Joe was so busy being stunned that he didn't even think. He simply caught the ruined lump of metal in his hand.

He looked down at the service weapon. The barrel was warped, the grip crushed into a new shape. What he was currently holding was little more than an expensive paper-weight.

“You're kidding me.” He was barely even aware of speaking.

Hank leaned in fast, his teeth bared in a nasty grin. “I look like I'm joking? You think I look like I'm having a laugh on you?” He stepped back. “I waited until we were alone so we could have this talk. You're in charge. I'm good with that. But stay out of my head. I got things I want to keep to myself. I find you in my head again . . .” He looked down at the pistol in Joe's grip. “I'll see if I can bend bone just as easily.”

The two of them stared at each other for several moments. If looks could have killed, probably one or both of them would have been dead.

Finally Joe nodded.

Hank smiled and started walking. “So, where are we going?”

“We've got a few chores to handle. Got to get a car and maybe pick up a few weapons.” He kept his voice calm, but his eyes stared hard at the back of Hank's head. Joe held a special hatred inside of him for everything that Hunter Harrison was and could be. There was no one, nothing in the world that he hated more. Still, for a few moments his anger toward Hank eclipsed that hatred.

Doubly so because Hank walked on as if he hadn't put his back to one of the most dangerous predators in the world.

That was something he might learn to regret in time.

THE SUN WAS SHINING and the air had warmed up a bit. They had left the hotel room and were sitting outside in the parking lot, where the traffic from the road was a little subdued and the wind didn't cut across them too hard. Joe had called the room and said he'd found a car and would be there soon. Because they had no other clothes, they'd taken the sweaty garments they'd all worn the night before and shoved them into trash bags, which were bundled near their feet.

Tina had given Kyrie the cell phone and told her to call home. God, she needed to talk to her family. Her stomach twisted into knots as she waited for an answer.

“Hello?” She barely recognized her father's voice.

“Daddy? Dad, it's me. It's Kyrie.” She had to stop herself from crying. She wanted to be home, wanted to hug every member of her family.

“Kyrie? Oh my God. Kyrie, baby girl, where are you?” His voice broke. Her daddy, the strongest guy in the world, and his voice fell into crackling pieces.

If you'd asked her two weeks earlier, Kyrie would have said that she loved her father but that he was sort of goofy and could embarrass her at the drop of a hat. Would she have believed she could miss the man as much as she did? Not in a million years.

“Dad?” She blinked back tears and looked over to where Tina and Gene were doing their best to pretend they were somewhere else. “Dad, just listen, okay?”

“Honey, we've been scared to death! Your mom's been crying herself to sleep every night. Jesus, last week they found a teenage girl's body and we were so scared it was you . . . . ”

“Dad. I don't have a lot of time. I can't stay on the phone for long—a borrowed phone.”

“What do you mean? Where are you, Kyrie?” His voice was confused, hurt, and she could imagine the expression on his face, the heartbreak.

“Dad. I'm gonna try to get home soon, okay? But first I have to take care of something. Something to do with my birth parents.”