against the wall.
“I'm following Lucy-Anne to bring her back,” he said without thinking.
“Who's Lucy-Anne?”
“My girl…” He frowned, because that no longer seemed right. “My friend.”
“Where are the others?”
“Room 602,” he said. Then he started backing away from this woman, because he had not intended to say anything.
“It's all right,” she said, smiling. “You couldn't help yourself.”
The door behind her opened again and a man stepped through, incredibly tall and exactly the opposite to her when it came to clothing. He wore an expensive suit, cuff links, a thin dark tie, and his shoes were shined to a mirror-like sheen. His face was very severe, and Jack's first thought was that the man would never be in danger of suffering laughter lines.
“Then I think you should go back to 602 to join them,” the man said. He raised his right hand, as if to point back along the corridor.
“But I'm…” Jack began. The man's fingers flexed. Jack's right bicep twitched and clenched, and the muscles in his thigh contracted, like the worst case of cramp he'd ever had. He groaned and took a step back, feeling as though he'd been shoved.
The woman was smiling at him. Her eyes shone.
The man came forward, and Jack saw that he was limping, one leg of his trousers torn and dark with blood.
“I'm going,” Jack said, and when the man lowered his hand the feeling of manipulation left.
Jack turned and ran. With every step, he listened out for more shouts and screams from Lucy-Anne. But she was either too far way for him to hear anymore, or she had at last seen or sensed the danger they were all in.
At the door to room 602 he paused and looked back. The woman was close, and behind her came the man, limping heavily but displaying no sign of pain in his expression. In fact, his grim face gave away nothing, and Jack had always been afraid of masks.
The door had not been closed properly, and just as the woman reached Jack it swung open, revealing Gordon and Rosemary standing just inside.
“We heard the noise,” the woman said. “We'd like to join the party.”
“You've no business here,” Gordon said.
“No business?” the tall man replied, talking over Jack's head. “No business in this fine hotel, in this dead city, where law no longer reigns?” He leaned across Jack, his voice lowered. “The likes of you don't decide whose business is whose.”
Jack could see panic in Rosemary's eyes, and he wondered just how dangerous these two Superiors were. He turned around. The woman was directly behind him, scruffy but beautiful, and she held him with her piercing gaze.
“We don't want trouble,” Jack said, his voice bled weak by the effect she had upon him. She blinked, slow and sensuous.
The tall man looked down at him then, his face so close that Jack could smell his stale breath. “If you don't want trouble, boy, why find your way into London at all?”
“They're not from outside,” Gordon said, “they come from-”
“Where are they from?” the woman asked.
“Outside,” Gordon replied. He frowned and looked away.
“You're Superiors,” Jack said. Perhaps if he could connect with them, things would not go so bad.
“And you're normal,” the tall man said, with evident distaste.
“Yeah, sorry,” Jack said. “I can't heal wounds or make people tell me the truth. No interest at all, me.” He could see between Rosemary and Gordon now, and Emily, Jenna, and Sparky were gathered together in the sunken seating area inside the room. They all looked scared. He wondered what they had been told.
“I think we'll still come inside anyway, just to check things over,” the Tall Man said. He pushed past Jack and into the hotel room.
Jack looked at the woman. She seemed to wear a permanent, cute smile. “After you,” she said.
When they were all inside the room, the woman shut the door and locked it behind them.
“I'm Puppeteer,” the tall man said.
“And I'm his beautiful assistant, Scryer.” The woman by the door performed a small curtsey, lifting an imaginary skirt hem.
“Oh, very imaginative,” Jack said.
Puppeteer glanced at him, then away again, as if dismissing Jack entirely from his consideration. He looked around the extravagant hotel suite, and then his attention rested on Jack's sister and friends. “Three more boring, unimportant people from outside, yes?”
“No, we come from-” Jenna began, but Jack stepped forward, taking the opportunity to join his friends. The air stank with danger.
“Don't bother,” he said. He pointed at Scryer. “She can make you tell the truth.”
“I can,” the woman said, slinking across the room. Jack was amazed how sexy a woman could look in such innocuous clothing. “You told the truth about your ex-girlfriend, didn't you?”
Jack went cold. Such personal thoughts, exposed now for everyone. Scryer may have a lovely smile, but he could see the brutal potential in her ability.
“What do you two do?” Scryer asked.
Gordon and Rosemary answered at the same time. “I smell bloodlines…” “Healer…”
“Great powers!” Scryer said. “I've met lots of healers, of course, but it's still good. You're still special.”
“But I'm not Superior,” Rosemary said. Jack was surprised at the conviction in her voice.
“And why wouldn't you want to be?” Puppeteer asked. “You do something now you couldn't two years ago, doesn't that make you feel-”
“I've moved on,” Puppeteer said.
“Well, this is intense,” Sparky whispered behind Jack. When Jack glanced around, Sparky and Jenna were standing close, Emily just in front of them.
“We'll be all right,” Jack said.
“So what are outsiders doing in the Toxic City?” Scryer asked.
“Come to find my parents,” Jack said, because it was true. He leaned forward, mouth working as if chewing on air, ready to tell these Superiors the rest of the reason they'd come here. But he swallowed the words and turned away.
“Normals,” Puppeteer sneered. “Just…humans.”
“‘Just’?” Jack asked.
“You're hurt,” Rosemary said to the tall man.
“Someone shot me.”
“Who?” Sparky asked. Puppeteer looked at him as though surprised he could even talk.
“A Chopper patrol, earlier today. We were playing with them, and they opened fire. Perhaps they forgot to have their coffee this morning.”
“Is the bullet still inside?” Rosemary asked.
Puppeteer seemed uncertain about whether to even answer. Jack could see where this was heading; he could also sense the tall man's discomfort.
“Passed right through,” Scryer answered for him.
“I can heal it,” Rosemary said, but she made no move.
