“Please be careful,” Quinn said from the bed. “Don’t—”
Riley let out a string of curses as her groping fingers found the hinges, and the jolt went through her entire body this time. Furious, she kicked at the door, near the lock, then near the center, thinking she could kick a hole through it at least. But the thing was solid. Probably reinforced. She barely cracked the center, even after kicking several times, and it didn’t even rattle in the jamb.
She limped back to Quinn and dropped onto the mattress. “I need to try to unlock it telekinetically, but I don’t know how.”
“Maybe I can talk you through it. You opened the car door that way, right?”
“Yeah.” But Riley was skeptical. “I know how to pull a handle. It wasn’t easy though, because my abilities are more punch than pull. This is finesse, and I have no idea what the inside of a lock looks like.”
“Rest a minute, and then we’ll try.”
But as she’d expected, Riley was unable to make it work. She thought about melting the metal but needed contact for that, and she still couldn’t push through the pain of the electricity to touch anything near the door, even the latch plate that curled slightly around the jamb.
She paced the dark, empty room, frustrated. “Boosting the phone signal was finesse. Why can’t I do something else that’s finesse-y?”
“It’s different,” Quinn placated. “The phone signal is energy. You just fed it with the energy you pulled through the metal. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
That didn’t make Riley feel better. Despite the new things she’d tried since meeting Sam and John’s training, it still seemed as haphazard as when she first realized she was a freak.
Suck it up, Riley. Whatever you can do, you do. You’re the only one here who can.
“Okay, new strategy. We’ll wait for whoever comes for us first. If it’s Sam and Nick, yay. If it’s not, I have this.” She brandished the metal tubing she’d detached from the bed. “We’ll fight our way out.”
Quinn didn’t comment on her optimistic we.
They sat in silence, Riley working to build her strength and the amount of energy she held without doing damage. Quinn’s breathing, beside her, was slow and even, and Riley knew she was gathering her own strength.
Riley waited, alert. Eyes closed, listening. Voices. People—a presence she felt an instant before the latch clicked. She had a brief throb of disappointment that the signature wasn’t Sam’s before she jumped to her feet and braced against the wall next to the door, strong and ready, just before it opened. Her breathing was steady, her heart rate normal. Sweat didn’t slick her palms or bead on her forehead. She’d do whatever she needed to protect them both.
She whacked the first guy through the door on top of the head. Not hard enough to kill him, but enough to drive him to his knees.
“Wha the fuh?” He swayed and lifted his hand. Riley kicked him between the shoulder blades and followed him to the carpet.
Everything seemed to happen at a normal speed, though Riley knew it was moving faster. The guy groaned and tried to get up. “Stay down,” she ordered, and pushed him flat with her foot.
Now she faced the doorway and the next guy coming in. He rushed Riley, growling. She swung the pipe like a baseball bat and connected with the side of his head. He fell into the door, knocking it against the wall, and tumbled to the floor.
“Ground rule double,” Riley muttered, and Quinn laughed behind her.
The hall outside was empty, but Riley stood at the ready, waiting, all her senses tuned to high. She got a very light prickle from the two goons on the floor, but still sensed nothing beyond this room.
“Go,” Quinn croaked. “Get out, and get help.”
“No way.” Riley flipped over the first guy, who seemed slightly more coherent than his partner, and yanked him up by his Polo shirt. “What do you want with us? Who’s in charge?”
His mouth stretched in a wobbly grimace that she assumed was supposed to be a grin. “Not telling.”
“Yes, you are.” She raised the metal tube again, gratified to see fear flicker through his eyes, but the feeling was short-lived. She didn’t want to be that person. The bully. Someone who got off on intimidating other people or even hurting them. Was it her power or the circumstances that were making her this way?
Her strength ebbed, and their jailer sagged in her grip. Pain seared through the muscles in the underside of her forearm. Okay, she wanted to be that person, at least until they got out of here. She’d go to counseling later.
She pulled more energy and got right in the guy’s face. “Tell me.”
He tried to shrug and only succeeded in flopping his arms. His speech was clearer, though. “Tournado told us to leech you two. Just enough to get us started. Then we’d have the power to get more.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She dropped him in disgust but didn’t bother to correct his understanding of how leeching worked. “How many of you are here?”
“Too many for you,” he mumbled, and she took that to mean none.
“Come on.” She hustled over to Quinn and tried to help her off the bed.
“No, you need to scout the place. I’ll slow you down, and if he’s not lying about having backup, we’re cooked.”
Riley hated that Quinn was right. Leaving her here felt completely wrong, but dragging her blind wasn’t going to get them far. “Okay, but…” She hesitated, then handed Quinn the pipe.
“You need that.” Quinn tried to give it back.
“No, I’m good. I have other stuff. You need something to defend yourself with. It’s hard, and at the very least, maybe you can clang it against the bed frame to call me back if you need help.”
“All right. Thanks.” Quinn wrapped her hand around the pipe and balanced it in the crook of her elbow. Riley was afraid she wouldn’t have the strength to swing it, but…
“Hey, wait a second.” Metal gave her strength. Could she channel that? Not just the raw energy as a concussive burst, but the strength itself? Feed Quinn, kind of like feeding the cell signal. She wrapped her hands around Quinn’s, making sure to contact the metal, and closed her eyes to concentrate on infusing Quinn with the energy Riley had already internalized. It was all instinct, maybe applied with a little bit of logic, but unaffected by doubt. Slowly, her body seemed to deflate as Quinn’s skin warmed.
Quinn drew in an audible breath. “Riley,” she breathed. “Wow.”
Riley opened her eyes and smiled. Quinn blinked at her in the light from the hall. “It worked?”
“Yes. Thank you. But you—”
“I’m good.” She got off the bed and dug into her pockets, coming out with fistfuls of small metal parts. The strength she’d lost returned. She pushed it all into her arms and fists and grinned. “Now I just need someone to punch.”
“Be careful. Don’t burn yourself.”
“I won’t.” She couldn’t draw constantly on the energy, especially since she couldn’t let go of the metal and there was no cool spot to shift to. She’d have to perfect quick draws and bursts on the fly until she found something better.
She stopped wasting time and spun away, dashing to the door and peering up and down the hall. It was a standard apartment hallway, though longer than she’d anticipated. There were three other typical flat-panel doors, neutral, high-grade carpet, and off-white painted walls. No art. The ceiling light fixture was ornate, though. A smoke detector sat next to it. Maybe she could set that off, but if it wasn’t wired to the fire department, it would call attention to them without getting help.
She stepped over the second guy’s legs into the hall. Neither punk tried to stop her. They hadn’t provided much of a challenge. Maybe sniveling, greedy weasels didn’t have as much of their ancestors’ influence, and that was why they registered so low to her Numina senses. She didn’t want to refer to them as gods. Before it was a little scary to consider. Now it seemed to be giving them too much credit.