Bathed in a flickering light, like the blazing heart of a miniature star, Vicky’s eyes widened, and she held her breath, mesmerized.

  She raised her hand and, for a moment, though she knew it would be madness, felt tempted to touch the small, restless ball of fire. But she pulled her fingers back and took a cautious step backward.

  “Copying the movement you all did with your fingers, I was able to shape my own Fotia,” Adam said, and contracting his hand, he formed the fire into a sphere. It wasn’t as perfectly round as the Fotia of the Grenadiers—this one spat flames, and the sound it made was more like the crackle of fire than the electric hum of blue energy grenades.

  Vicky smiled in pure amazement. “Your Fotia is… Wow! A lot more intimidating than any I’ve seen.”

  Fearing he’d lose control, like the time he broke the ceiling, Adam made the energy vanish before the demonstration turned into a disaster.

  “I can also… levitate,” he added, looking at her with a mix of nerves and anticipation, like a child who’s just learned to ride a bike without help but isn’t sure how long he can stay upright before falling. He lifted off the ground by a few inches, wobbled in the air as if trying to balance on an invisible surface, and then returned to the floor, releasing a long sigh.

  Vicky’s eyebrows were so high they nearly touched her hairline.

  “I know you all didn’t know who was behind the Project or if they’re dead,” Adam said, “but some of them must still be alive. A project like that must have had assistants, financiers, lab companies, even maintenance staff, right? For Juzo and all the other twins who died because of this, babies and children alike, I wanna find the bastards who did this and bring them to justice; I don’t care if they’re eighty or ninety years old now. It doesn’t matter that the project started on your continent, I have powerful friends; influential people who can…”

  Vicky raised her hand, signaling him to stop.

  “I know how you feel, believe me,” she said, “but answer me this: what will cause more commotion, an illegal project no one will willingly take responsibility for, assuming any of them are still alive, or a man who can create fireballs without chemical serums or implants, and can fly? If you start making calls and asking questions, you’ll attract the attention of people who won’t seek justice but will want to take advantage of you, and by people, I mean primarily the authorities in my country.”

  Adam got the point and, pushed by frustration, flopped onto the couch.

  “There’s one thing I can answer, though,” she said, heading toward the kitchen area and reaching behind the fridge. “Hah, perfect. Right where I left them.” She pulled out two black objects and, with a quick squeeze, shaped them into Auriga cuffs identical to the ones she was wearing.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “That Friday, I crossed my fingers, hoping that if everything went well—and, y’know, you lived to tell the tale—you wouldn’t find them. I was afraid you’d, I don’t know, freak out and toss them in the trash. Or worse, give them to someone else.” She ran her fingers over the chrome surface of one of her Auriga cuffs, removed a tiny chip from it, and inserted it into one of the hidden pair.

  “This will give it the energy it needs to work.”

  Adam folded his arms. “To do what, exactly?”

  Vicky returned the new cuffs to their rectangular shape, stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans, and walked toward the door.

  “You wanted to know how I got here so fast, didn’t you? Grab your car keys. I’ll show you.”

  “You could just show me here, couldn’t you?”

  “No. It has to be there.”

  “Okay, fine…” Adam agreed—anything to get at least one answer.

  He buttoned up his shirt, but before heading for the car keys, he detoured to the laundry room behind the kitchen. Shoving aside a few boxes, he uncovered a suitcase full of clothes.

  “I’ve got standards when it comes to fashion. Old habits, y’know?” he said, handing Vicky a few pieces. “The whole ‘worn-out and bloodstained’ look is out, so see which of these fit you best.”

  She took them. “And this? Could it be that you just happened to—?”

  “If you’re about to ask if I happen to have a pair of pants in there…” he said, tossing her some, “Here. All yours.”

  “I was going to point out the coincidence of you having women’s clothes stashed away, but thanks anyway.”

  “Yeah, they’re from an ex and a few other friends who tended to forget them here. I doubt they want them back.”

  “Well… I normally don’t accept secondhand clothes, but given the circumstances…” said Vicky, and with the pile in hand, she stepped into the bathroom to change.

  A moment later, she came out. Light blue blouse, denim shorts, same black boots.

  “Better than I expected,” she said, checking herself out.

  “You do know there are other colors to mix in besides blue and black, right?” he said, unimpressed.

  “I know, but I like it this way.”

  “Hold on. There’s an orange T-shirt that—”

  “I like it this way.”

  “Alright, alright. Now, I’ve got some sneakers… Don’t worry, they’re black too, but I think they might—”

  “No, these boots are fine,” she said with a thankful smile. “Shall we go?”

  Adam grabbed the car keys, and suddenly, the image of him accidentally releasing a burst of energy while driving came rushing back to his mind. This time, in that terrible vision, it wasn’t just him trapped in the fire inside the cabin—the girl was, too.

  “We’re walking,” he declared.

  “It’s not far, but it’s not close either,” she pointed out.

  Just as Adam was about to insist, a familiar voice echoed in his head. Juzo’s. “Stop being afraid, and you’ll have the control you need,” his brother’s voice said.

  “Fine, whatever you say,” Adam muttered. He’d already caved to Vicky’s demands—what was one more concession to his brother’s advice? He grabbed the car keys, shooting Vicky a warning look.

  “I’ve driven with people from Markabia before, and it didn’t end well. Let’s not repeat history.”

  “Relax, dear,” she said. “You won’t wake up in a hospital after this, if that’s what you’re worried about. Worst-case scenario? You might feel a little queasy.”

  They left the loft. Adam headed for the stairs, but Vicky didn’t follow. She waited by the open elevator doors.

  “There’s no way I’m walking down twelve flights of stairs,” she said, pointing to her back. “Not when I’m injured.”

  “You don’t walk with your back, but fine…” Adam sighed and stepped into the elevator with her.