Erica Hayes - Scorched

But damn, it felt good to let my power loose.

I flexed my fist, and the bus's steel shell twisted, just a few inches. The metal creaked in protest. My blood burned, urging me to more, harder, darker. A bad person would crush Arachne with this bus. Hurl it on top of her and grind her to bloody pulp, and damn the consequences…

Glimmer ran forward. Now he was between Arachne and the bus. Damn it. I gritted my teeth, and held on.

Arachne spat poison at him, and whipped her wrists downwards. Her vines snapped off, only a few inches from her palm. The long ends dangled from the bus, slapping lifelessly onto the ground. Quick as a striking snake, she speared them out anew, five wicked barbs on each, like twisting hands clawing for Glimmer's face.

I wasn't sure whether what happened next was real.

Glimmer ducked, so swift he blurred. The snaking spikes shot past him, writhing, searching blindly for prey. She howled and tried to whirl, to re-attack from a different angle. But Glimmer kept running at her. He grabbed her hair and yanked, forcing her to look at him, and snapped his fingers an inch from her eyes. "Watch me," he commanded.

Her flame-bright eyes shuttered black.

She froze, her body motionless except for her flapping hair. The fierce glassy vines halted, rigid, snapped frozen in mid-air.

I stared, warm and chilled at the same time. That was some hypno-mojo.

"Lose the spikes." Glimmer's voice was calm, cold, resonating, even above my bus passengers' screams. He didn't drop his dark gaze. Didn't blink. Didn't let her go.

Arachne obeyed, staring blankly into his eyes. The glassy spikes sucked back into her palms, a slicing sound like sword blades. No blood. No ripped flesh. Just something she was born with. Did it hurt, I wondered, when she let them out?

"Cross your arms," Glimmer ordered softly. "Palms on your chest. Then don't move."

She did as he told her. Like a black leather mummy, those dangerous palms pressed flat to her own shoulders. If she spiked now, she'd run herself through. Clever.

I licked dry lips, sympathy itching. I was a freak, sure. But my freakdom was invisible compared to hers. If I had glassy spikes growing inside my hands, what would my life have been like? Would it be so easy for me to choose good over evil?

I flexed my aching fist, and slowly lowered the bus to the ground.

Crunch! The dust settled, and people started climbing out. One guy was already filming us on his smartphone. A few windows were broken, but all in all, I'd done well. Probably a good thing I hadn't squashed Arachne. But like always, it niggled me like a phantom itch that being a good guy meant leaving the sick mofos alive.

I popped my stiff spine, twisting left and right. Ahh. Inside my head, my power coiled and relaxed, and a pleasant afterglow ache flooded my muscles from head to toe. I stretched, lazy and content despite my raging headache. My thighs tingled. Someone pass me a cigarette. Was it wrong that my augment felt better than sex?

Was it like this for other augmented? I'd never asked. It wasn't the kind of thing I liked discussing, especially not with Dad or Adonis, and I sure as hell wasn't about to ask Glimmer. Maybe I was just doing the sex thing wrong.

Whatever. I didn't have time to ponder my choice of pleasures now. At last, the distant howl of frustrated police sirens from the east inched closer. We didn't have much time. Even with FortuneCorp's full powers at my back—we helped the police, they helped us, it had been that way ever since the PD realized all those years ago that Blackstrike and Illuminatus were in Sapphire City to stay—I'd only ever had an uneasy relationship with cops. Now I was a loner. A vigilante. An outlaw. Cops were bad news.

Seemed Glimmer knew it too. He jerked his chin at me, never taking his eyes from Arachne's. "Duct tape, please. On the back of the bike."

I scrambled over broken iron and glass to the bike. Sure enough, in the little saddlebag was a fat black roll of tape. I tossed it to him. He caught it, and ripped the end free with his teeth. I stepped up to help, and in half a minute, Arachne looked even more like a mummy, wrapped from collarbone to solar plexus in tape, her hands bound immovably to her chest. Another couple of twists bound her ankles tight.

Still she stared straight ahead, into Glimmer's masked eyes. Her red lips had dried. She didn't lick them. Didn't move. Didn't even blink.

"Nice," I commented, tossing the empty roll away. "Remind me never to let you tie me up." Or hypnotize me, I added silently. Like I'd be able to do anything about it if he did, judging from the way Arachne stared like a dead thing into his eyes.

Glimmer plastered the last scrap of tape over her lips. Gently, sufficient to silence her but not hard enough to tear the skin. "Should stop her spitting. Any poison get you?"

"A little. Nothing I can't scratch off."

"You did good with the bus."

"Thanks." Behind us, motorbike engines rattled to a halt, and tires screeched. "Time to go," I said.

"Yeah." He passed his hand in front of her face. "Arachne?"

"Mmph." Her voice clogged through the tape.

He clicked his fingers. "Wake up."

Her eyes snapped golden. Scarlet shame bled in, stained black with poisoned fury. Glimmer grinned, and we ran.

Two motorcycle cops ran for us, guns drawn. They still wore their helmets, visors down. "Freeze!" one yelled, muffled.

Yeah, okay. Let me wait here while you arrest me. Idiot.

Arachne struggled and cursed, vile and skin-crawling even through the tape on her lips. Glimmer jumped on his bike and kicked the engine. I vaulted on behind him, and he gunned it, the back end sliding out.

The cops shot and missed. Bullets zinged. I held on tight, ducking my head against his back. Glimmer rode for the piled-up cars, and instinctively I squeezed my eyes shut. The engine revved, brutal. Suddenly we were airborne, weightless for a few glorious, ear-splitting seconds. And then we hit the road, and bounced, my bones jarring.

The engine grunted in protest. I whooped, exhilarated. He skidded the bike into a turn, scattering broken metal fragments, and we howled away.

By the time we reached Glimmer's hideout, dawn's gleaming fingers crept along the horizon. No streetlamps lit the back alley where he eased the bike down the ramp. Somewhere in the dark, the iron grille clattered aside, and we rolled in. Once the grille slammed shut, orange security lights popped on, revealing a deserted underground parking lot, and he stopped the bike in its alcove and shut off the engine.

I climbed off, stiff and weary, my nerves still jangling. I hadn't forgotten how easily he swept Arachne under his power. Sure, I was dangerous, too, but at least everyone could see what I was doing. Glimmer's augment was insidious, invisible, unknowable.

My stomach turned over, watery. Mindbenders gave me the creeps. What had I let myself in for?

An electric combo-locked steel door like a safe led to his lair. Inside, his screens still flickered, information and images flowing, collating, like the thing had a brain of its own. Cool, but spooky, too. Glimmer tossed his gun onto the desk-shaped mess and headed for the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"Huh?"

He paused, the door half open. "Beer. You know. A drink?"

"Uh. Sure." I dragged off my sweaty mask, uneasy. I was thirsty. That wasn't the problem. I'd already taken too much from him. Taking meant debt, and I wasn't sure owing a dark and mysterious mindfucker who wouldn't take off his mask was a particularly stellar idea.

He tossed me a bottle, and I caught it. At the sight of the amber fluid, my mouth stung. I sure could use one. Screw it. I wrenched off the top and chugged. Mmm. Cold, bitter, bubbly. All that a beer should be.