Kurt paused in eating, his mouth full. “Now?” Flecks of half-chewed food rained onto the table and I looked away.
“When was the last time she made an appointment to see the low-paid help?” Zack stood and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. “Yes, now.” He looked back at the three of us still seated. “You guys take it easy.” Hannegan followed him out, a taco clenched in his chubby fists.
“Congratulations on your offer,” Kat said, her eyes shining. “That’s really amazing. Not too many metas get asked to go through the training program. You should be proud.”
“Why?” I took a bite of my burrito and then wiped my glove on a napkin. “I didn’t do anything except be born a meta.”
“Well, you killed that psychopath.” Her smile glittered like a spotlight shining directly in my eyes, annoying me.
“Yeah, you did,” Byerly said, then leaned closer. “How did you do that, by the way?”
I felt still, as though a great slab of ice had frozen everything inside me. “I told you—I’m death.”
“What does that mean?” He leaned even closer, almost whispering. “You’re an efficient killer? You’re super strong?”
I felt an ugly thread tug at me inside, felt Wolfe doing something, though I couldn’t tell what. I ignored him. “It’s none of your business.”
“Are you a human time bomb? Like the guy that blew up the science labs?” Byerly kept pressing, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, he was so close—too close. “Can you throw energy or maybe—”
“What I can do—” I started to scoot my chair away from him but he landed his hand on my arm, stopping me. “If you really want to see, just keep your hand where it is. If you don’t, move it.”
“Maybe I want to know.” His eyes were focused, boring in on me and I saw something else in them, an intensity.
“Scott, let her go—” Kat’s plea went ignored.
My glove was already off. Wolfe had moved my hand without me even knowing it and it was on Scott’s cheek. He started to recoil, but I anchored my thumb and forefinger, gripping him on the neck. Not hard enough to choke him, but enough to let him know I had a good hold on him. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger, and he brought a hand around, maybe instinctively, to hit me. I knocked it aside and jerked him to his feet.
I saw the anger vanish, replaced with creases in his forehead from the first stirrings of pain. “Ouch,” he breathed, consternation knitting his brows together. “Ow…oh…” He sucked in a sharp breath and grunted. After another second he let out a squeal that drew even more attention from those around us and then he let out an earsplitting, agonized scream that started a scramble for the cafeteria door, people falling over each other to get the hell out of there.
“Put him down!” Kat was on her feet, shouting at me. I strained, trying to regain control of my hand, but Wolfe was in charge, holding the rest of me still. I lifted Scott Byerly off his feet and he shuddered in the air, convulsing, his eyes rolling back in his head. I looked on, horrified, unable to stop it.
I felt a blow land on the back of my head and I flew forward, releasing my grasp on Byerly. I plowed through three tables, heard some things break that sounded like it could have been me or the furniture, I wasn’t sure which. I came to rest twenty feet away from where I had started, a medley of other peoples’ lunches smeared on my clothes. Kat was already at Scott’s side and Clyde Clary stood not far away, his lips twisted in an amused smile. “Clyde,” I said, using my sleeve to mop some blood from the back of my head where he’d hit me.
“Girl, ain’t no one calls me Clyde,” his pudgy face went angry quickly.
“I think I just did.” I stood up. “But if you’d prefer, I could just call you fatass prick—”
He charged at me, broad shoulders flashing underneath his shirt, the skin around his neck rippling, turning into something different. It looked like metal in the brief glimpse I got before he put his shoulder down and stormed at me. He moved fast, especially for such a big guy.
I grabbed the nearest table, heavy and metal, and heaved it at him. It spun, hit him in the face and ricocheted off at high velocity, flying through one of the upper windows of the cafeteria. He moved off his course not even a millimeter, his head now the same dull metal that I had seen beneath his shirt. I dodged out of the way just in time as he shredded the tables behind me, shards of them flying through the air.
“You’re dangerous. I like it.” He smiled and grabbed a table of his own as I rolled to my feet and he chucked it at me. It skipped off the floor, a hubcap of spinning death that grazed my shoulder as I dropped below it and heard the shattering of glass behind me. He threw another, then another, and I dodged them, executing some gymnastic evasions I wouldn’t have been capable of even a month ago—before my powers manifested. I looked around for a weapon—any kind of weapon—that might be effective against a hulking slab of metal.
He stomped toward me, malice in his eyes. I met his attack, ducking his punch and grabbing his arm with my ungloved hand as he started to pull it back. I gripped onto the slick metal and held tight, waiting for a reaction; it was cool in my grasp. The big jackass looked at me, then down to my hand, then back at me and split into a broad grin. “Your succubus trick only works on flesh.” He pulled his arm back, yanking me off balance and lifting me from the ground. I managed to hold onto him, but only just.
A second later I realized what he was doing. As soon as he pulled me toward him, he set me up for a punch with his other hand. His fist made contact with my midsection and I felt all the air leave my lungs in a rush, worse than any physical pain I’d felt since Wolfe had near-gutted me. I flew through the air, landing with a crash on a metal chair that promptly upended. I heard more things break when I landed and this time I knew it was me, not the furniture.
I sat up, clutching at my ribs. There was blood in my mouth, the metallic taste unpleasant enough that I spit it out. Clary stalked toward me from across the room; his punch had thrown me almost a hundred feet, from the middle of the cafeteria to near the kitchen.
“Any suggestions to keep us from getting pummeled?” I muttered the words under my breath, but Wolfe was silent. If ever there had been a time when I could have used the help of the world’s most brutal infighter, this would have been it. I looked around and my eyes widened as I remembered something, a possibility. I made for the kitchen, hobbling as fast as my wounded frame could carry me, Clary not far behind.
I jumped over the cafeteria line and the serving stations with one good leap. As I reached the kitchen doors I heard Clary crash through them behind me. “You can run girl, but you can’t hide!”
“You can spout cliches,” I said, “but you can’t find a woman who’ll enjoy your company.”
I plunged into the kitchen and heard the screams of the serving ladies, who had all run inside to hide after the altercation started in the dining area. There were a half dozen of them, all wide-eyed. “Get out!” I said as I pushed past them. I stopped next to the freezer and swung the heavy door open, then checked my placement. He would have to charge through a preparation station in order to get to me, with an obstructed view, and if he wasn’t paying much attention (which I assumed was his usual state) he’d go charging into the freezer where with any luck I could shut the door behind him.
Clary stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. “Come on, now, girl.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, holding my arm. It was actually the least of my pains, but the others weren’t easily reached and pulling it closer seemed to ease the torment in my chest.
“Have it your way, then.” He lowered his head. “I’ll let Old Man Winter decide what he wants done with you once you’re good and out.” He barreled toward me, not bothering to use the aisles, charging right through the prep station, tearing the vent hoods out of the stove, destroying a cook top and counters, metal flying in every direction.