Dreams of the Golden Age (Golden Age 2)

Arthur said, “Oh, it’s too l

ate for that. What we have to do now is show them they can’t beat us.”

Nearby, Teia was cracking her fingers. “Blaster, you think we can take this?”

For the first time in months, Sam seemed uncertain, his lips pursed and his gaze darting across the dozens of square feet of steel they had to get through. “I don’t know. Maybe if we focus everything on one spot. Can steel even freeze?”

“Anything can freeze if you get it cold enough.”

Anna whispered into her microphone, “Ghost, I think we’re going to try breaking in. You’d better get out of the way.”

“Okay. I found some stairs, I’m going to scout ahead and let you know what I find.”

Lady Snow and Blaster approached the blast doors.

Teia held her hands apart as if she were lifting a giant beach ball, gathering her power to her like it was something light and airy. Frost began to dust her sleeves, her mask, the tips of her escaping hair. Her breath fogged in a space around her that had become a deep, cold winter. The air shimmered with ice crystals. Bringing her hands together, she crouched in front of the door and slammed her hands to the concrete.

A noise cracked across the street, the sound of falling icicles amplified. A reflective sheen spread out from her, covered the pavement, crawled up the blast door and surrounding wall. The sheet of ice hardened, frosted, and a wall of cold pressed out from the building as even the air froze. Teia seemed immune to the drop in temperature. Anna wondered how cold the doors actually were now; the frost formed streaks across the surface, looping patterns, feathered tendrils, beautiful crystalline shapes.

Teia backed out of the way, and Sam stepped forward. In the background, Paulson shouted at his people to back up and take cover.

“Anna, here,” her father said, an anxious edge to his voice as he gestured her behind a nearby patrol car.

Sam brought both hands together in a joined fist and aimed. A doubled force of energy, bronzed rays of light, blasted away from him and hit the doors, which shattered. Shards of frozen steel radiated out in a cloud of water vapor, leaving behind a jagged space where the doors used to be. The guards on the inside probably got the worst of it. Peeled, warped edges of steel folded inward, pointing toward a path of ripped floor and steaming debris.

Arthur strode toward the mess.

“Dad!” Anna waited for the gunfire that would mow him down when the guards stormed through the breach in the wall.

His hand was on his head, and he was glaring. This wasn’t Anna’s father anymore—this was the Dr. Mentis she’d read about in books. Paulson shouted again at his people to stand back.

A silent minute ticked over. And another. Dr. Mentis turned around. “Captain, I believe the ground floor is clear.”

The police captain rolled his eyes before waving a SWAT unit forward. The black-garbed and helmeted group of officers held their guns ready as they streamed forward in a military formation, past a nonchalant Dr. Mentis. They peered carefully through the hole before trickling into the building, leading with their guns.

“What did you do?” Anna asked him.

“I cleared the ground floor,” he said simply.

The radio in Paulson’s hand crackled on. “Sir,” a voice scratched, “we’ve got something like thirty bodies here. Mercenary unit, I’m guessing. Lots of body armor, automatic weapons.”

“Bodies,” Paulson said, glaring at Mentis. “Are they dead?”

A brief pause, then, “No … it looks like they’re asleep.”

“The usual trick,” Arthur said, putting his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, shrugging.

Anna pressed the headset to her face. “Teddy? Ghost? Can you hear me?” No answer. “Teddy, where are you?”

“I can’t really make exceptions when I’m trying to drop a whole room like that,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

“We have to find him,” Anna said.

Ms. Baker stepped forward, staring thoughtfully at the hole her daughter had helped make. A mist hung in the air, vaporized particles still settling out. “Damn,” she murmured.

Teia flexed her hands nervously, looking like she wanted to say something. Yearning for approval. Her mother just smiled.

Arthur said, “Analise, if I could suggest that you wait someplace safe—”