The Collector woman had kidnapped his sister and had used her as leverage, making him do things that would haunt him until he died. But a few days ago, DEFEND had rescued his sister, also allowing him to escape. However, his sister’s safety had come at a price—he had to agree to track down one of his old colleagues, a man named Harry Watkins, and stop the bastard from setting off any more arson fires.
While the Collector’s people would only have noticed his absence a few hours ago, he didn’t have much time to carry out his task. The Collector didn’t like losing any of her assets, and anyone who tried to escape was hunted down and killed. To date, only two people had ever managed to escape her clutches and avoid death.
Jorge’s odds
didn’t look good.
But he was determined to take care of Watkins before the Collector’s soldiers found him. To do that, he needed information from the man in front of him, but his former colleague and friend was being less than helpful.
Jorge pressed his arm more firmly against the man’s neck. “You owe me your life, Dylan. Tell me about the next fire, and I’ll leave you alone. If you don’t, then you’ll find out firsthand why I was kicked out of the Fed League.”
Dylan merely glared at him.
Jorge gave the man a shake before pinning him back up against the wall. “Don’t push your luck. We might’ve been friends once, but I have a debt to pay, and you know how much importance I put on paying my debts in full. I need to know about Watkins’s plans.”
Dylan looked him dead in the eye and said nothing. After a long moment, he finally opened his mouth and said, “If you know Watkins, then you know what he’ll do to me if I tell you anything.”
“Then I’d suggest you tell me and disappear. Changes are coming that you aren’t going to like, and listening to my advice will save your ass for the second time in as many years.”
Dylan scrutinized his face, and Jorge had to give him credit. The man was cool under pressure.
But Jorge had worked with the man for nearly a year before he’d left the Fed League, and he knew that Dylan only stayed because he had nowhere else to go.
Maybe a suggestion would prod him to reveal Watkins’s next target. “Listen, soon Watkins won’t be anyone’s problem. Until I take care of him, go back to the US. Find a job, go to college, or, hell, live on a friend’s couch for all I care. The Fed League is starting to crumble. Do you really want to be around when it does? The Feiru High Council isn’t going to treat any of you lightly.”
His old friend looked unimpressed. “Tell me why you were kicked out, and then I’ll believe your message is serious.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Dylan managed to shrug a shoulder despite Jorge’s grip. “Well, then, we’re at an impasse because I’m not telling you anything. Despite everything we’ve gone through, you just vanished without a fucking word.”
Jorge hadn’t had a choice, but he didn’t have time to explain the Collector and her methods. “Whether you believe me or not, contacting you would’ve endangered your life. And the longer you linger here with me now, the greater the chance you’ll find out why I kept my distance.”
“Do you know what they say happened to you?”
“I really couldn’t give a flying fuck.”
Dylan ignored him. “They say you switched sides, and were spying for the AMT Oversight Committee.”
“And what makes you think that I didn’t?”
“You hated the AMT for torturing your cousin and driving him insane. There’s no way you would’ve helped those bastards.”
This was taking too long. He wasn’t about to stab his former friend, so Jorge decided to take a chance. “I would kill myself before I helped the AMT, you’re right. But I didn’t leave by choice. I was forced out. You know the rule about no Fed League member being allowed to have magic?” Dylan nodded. “Well, I sort of inherited some strange abilities, and they wanted me gone.”
“Yeah, and I learned how to breath under water. Come on, Jorge, tell me the truth.”
What did he have to lose? The Collector would find him sooner or later and kill him. He may as well reveal his powers to one of the few people he’d called a friend. “Fine, asshole. Have you ever heard of a Shadow-Shifter?”
Dylan shook his head. “No.”
Considering the stories about his kind had been outlawed by the Feiru High Council decades ago, Dylan’s answer didn’t surprise him.
Jorge could only shift once every twenty-four hours, but he knew from overhearing conversations between Fed League members yesterday that Watkins wasn’t due to strike for nearly a week. He could sacrifice one day of not being able to use his abilities if it meant he could find out enough information to help him come up with a plan.
He raised his free arm and said, “Well, they can do this.”
He concentrated, relaxing the muscles in his free arm, and started to imagine each cell breaking down. The more he visualized the breakdown of his arm, the more transparent it became until there was a jolt of pain that flashed through his entire body, leaving his arm nothing but a dark, shadowy mist.