Erica Hayes - Scorched

"People with crappy lives always like what scaremongers have to say. It justifies being afraid of their own shadows."

"Maybe," Adonis said again. "Or maybe they're just hardworking normals who've had their businesses torched by Razorfire, or their kids held hostage by some Gallery scumbag. Powers all look the same to people who don't have any."

"Yeah, well, there'd be a lot more scumbags holding kids hostage if you and I weren't around," I pointed out. "People always hate what they don't understand. Doesn't make it right."

"If you say so. But Caine's popular. Loaded, too, if the color of the campaign he's running is any guide."

"More loaded than the family Fortune?" I scoffed. "Say it ain't so."

"I know. Unthinkable, isn't it?"

I swallowed the last mouthful and smacked my lips. "Whatever. Let Equity play at politics. You and me against the world, eh? Let's get to work and kick some villainous butt."

"It's not that simple, Vee."

I cocked one singed eyebrow. "Villain's ass, my boot. Seems pretty simple to me."

"I told you. Equity wants FortuneCorp to take a step back."

I snorted. "Good thing Equity's not in charge, then."

Adonis just looked at me.

My bones chilled. "But… you're Dad's favorite. You know the company inside out. We always thought… You're the only one who can do what Dad did. It has to be you!"

"Equity's the eldest. It's how he wanted it." His eyes glinted, a flash of ocean-blue resentment. Gone so swiftly I could have imagined it.

But I knew I didn't, and my heart broke for him, like it had already broken for Blackstrike, our father, murdered at the ugly hands of Razorfire. Dad could have left anyone else in charge—his superconducting brother Illuminatus, for instance, or even Phantasm, our tetchily invisible cousin—and Adonis would have understood. But Equity?

She'd always treated me with disdain, because I spoke my mind instead of weighing every word for political correctness. I'm named for truth, after all, and in strategy meetings Dad always relied on me to tell it how it was. Still, it saddened me that she and I weren't closer, because on those rare occasions when she forgot to be a bitch, we actually got along okay.

But Equity resented Adonis. Not just for being Dad's favorite—like every guy of his generation, Dad wanted a son—but because Adonis was everyone's favorite. It wasn't enough for Equity to be strong, intelligent, a kick-ass attorney, and master of the power of light. She wanted to be glamorous, too. Adonis had the augment that Equity longed for, and she hated him for it.

It didn't make sense. Everyone knew Equity lived on celery sticks and jealousy. So why the hell had Dad left her in charge?

My stomach squirmed. I knew how it felt to believe your family had abandoned you. "Jeez. I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing. It's done. Equity's the new boss."

"And you're on board with that?"

"I have to be. What am I gonna do, go work for another secret crime-fighting family? Oh, wait, there aren't any." Adonis sounded resigned, like he'd already thought this over too many times. Didn't stop him sounding angry, too.

"But we're still equal shareholders, right? What about Chance?" Our littlest brother, with his cheeky surfer-boy smile and careless charm, was the only one Equity had any time for, probably because he made it easy for her to feel superior.

"You know Chance. Doing his own thing, as ever." Adonis's tone twinged sharp.

I understood his frustration. Chance didn't take the family business seriously. Sure, Adonis parties hard, but he'll drop it all in a heartbeat if there's work to be done. As a geeky teenager, I used to be jealous of Adonis's girlfriends, until I learned it's never the sister who gets her heart broken.

Chance, on the other hand, has talent up to his baby-doll eyelashes, but by Dad's standards, he's the family screw-up: instead of fighting crime, Chance prefers to use his lucky augment to risk his life at extreme sports, win the long odds at roulette and pick up girls.

Chance follows his heart; Adonis locks his heart away. I know who I trust more. "But what if—"

"It doesn't matter what Chance says, even if we could get the cocky little shit to turn up. The chairperson has the veto. Always did. You know that. Forget it, okay?" Adonis pushed me towards the bedroom. "Big sister awaits. Go get ready."

I chugged more OJ from the bottle and jammed it back in the fridge. "I am ready," I announced.

He eyed me critically. "Wearing that? You look like a hobo."

I snorted, glad of the change of subject. "Hey, they're your clothes. And oh, look." I patted my nonexistent pockets and frowned. "I seem to have misplaced my crime-fighter's spring collection while I was in the nuthouse. So sad. C'mon, we can worry about my fashion sense later."

"Just a sec." He vanished into the bedroom, and soon reappeared with a black suitcase, which he dumped on the table before me. "You might want these."

I unzipped it. Folded neatly inside lay my clothes. Some of them, anyway. My favorite blue jeans, soft from months of wearing. My T-shirts, even the wise-ass ones I knew he hated, and my leather belt. My old black lace-up boots, scuffed and charred from fighting. Even—bless him—a set of my knife-proof leathers.

And my mask.

I fingered the soft black leather. So familiar. My suit still smelled of flame and city dirt, a faint whiff of some perfume I didn't remember wearing.

All still here, even though I'd vanished. With this stuff, my brother had kept me alive.

My eyes burned. I was real after all. Or rather, the Seeker was real, and she was the important part of me. The Seeker was strong. Verity was weak. Nine months bolted into an augmentium helmet had proved that.

Without my power, I was nothing.

Adonis shrugged, sheepish. "They gave away your apartment after the memorial service. I couldn't keep everything. But I wanted… I couldn't just let you disappear."

I struggled to swallow on a lumpy throat. "You always were a sentimental idiot, Ad."

"You're welcome." He hugged me, one arm around my shoulders. "I'm glad you're home, Vee."

Home . It sounded good. I hugged him back, and his warm spritzy scent unleashed a fresh flood of memory. Only this time, they were good memories. I wasn't alone.

Adonis kissed my bruised forehead. “Go get changed. You don’t want to be late. Equity’s skipping a meeting, don’t you know?”

We stepped from the elevator on the top and fifty-sixth floor of the FortuneCorp building. The long fluoro-lit lobby with its pewter-colored carpet still looked the same. On the way in, we passed Illuminatus, Dad's younger brother. He looked like an older, silver-frosted version of Adonis, and he threw me a handsome grin as he passed. His superconducting alloy bracelets crackled with static charge. "Verity. Heard you were back. Good to see you, girl."

"Thanks, Uncle Mike. You too." I grinned back, but it soon faded. Illuminatus and Blackstrike. Sapphire City's original crime-fighting duo. They'd never fight together again.

A skinny receptionist wearing too much makeup sat behind a curved glass desk. Adonis flicked her a smile, and she picked up the phone, frowning. "Ms. Fortune? Mr. Fortune and Ms. Fortune are asking to see you. Adonis and… and Verity."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. Pretty please. Whatever." When this was Dad's office, any of his kids could just walk right in. And I felt fine and belligerent once more in my jeans and kicker boots. My black T-shirt read I'M ONLY NICE TO ONE PERSON PER DAY, and then underneath, it said TODAY IS NOT YOUR DAY. It pretty much summed up how I felt.

I strode up to the frosted glass door and turned the handle.

It wouldn't open.

Frustrated, I tried again, harder.