Joe looked in that direction and his eyes widened.
Not-Cody looked in the same direction and his face split into another grin. Here was something new he could play with.
The figure started for the elevators, keeping his eyes on all of them, justifiably wary.
Not-Cody charged, moving like a bulldozer on overdrive. The dark-haired figure dropped down, spinning his leg out and catching Not-Cody on the hip hard enough to stagger him.
Not-Cody growled as he stumbled into the wall.
Joe reached for the newcomer, but the boy moved faster, slamming his nightstick into Bronx’s temple hard enough to drop him to his hands and knees.
Both of them were knocked flat in an instant. The difference was that Joe was back up and swinging before anyone knew what was happening. His hands reached out and grabbed the weapons in each of the stranger’s hands, blocking him from using them again.
As fast as Joe was, the stranger seemed equally quick. While Joe blocked both of his hands, the boy let go of the weapons and dropped back, using the momentum of his drop to help him kick Joe in the face. His foot connected solidly with Joe’s jaw and sent him backward.
Not-Cody was back up and starting to move, but Joe waved him off, not saying a word. He didn’t look angry. He looked intrigued.
Joe whipped the first of the nightsticks at the stranger’s face and watched his attacker roll out of the way. The wooden missile hit the ground and bounced into the wall hard enough to chip the paint. Joe moved forward, not letting go of his second prize, and swung the stick with all of his might. The stranger was crouching, ready for the maneuver, and he ducked as the baton came down. Unfortunately for him Joe was also good at feinting. Joe kicked and the shoe cracked into the side of his chest and sent him sprawling.
Joe watched his attacker roll across the ground and moved after him in a near blur. The stick slammed down on the dark shape’s back and he grunted as he hit the ground.
But instead of staying down, the stranger twisted around and slid backward, regaining his feet.
Joe looked at him and scowled. His face registered how surprised he was. Most of the time when he hit someone, that someone stayed down.
Gene stared at the two of them as they faced off. There were similarities. It wasn’t his imagination.
“Joe, he’s one of us.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
The stranger looked at him for a second, staring hard. That second was all it took for Joe to attack again. He grabbed his enemy by the throat and at his crotch. The boy let out a gasp of pain as Joe lifted him over his head and threw him against the nearest wall.
There was no finesse to the move. Joe didn’t feel the need to test any further. He heaved the stranger at the closest wall with all of his might and they watched as the dark shape crashed into plaster and drywall and broke the structure behind him.
He dropped to the ground and landed on his feet, shaking off the impact.
“Who the hell are you?” Joe’s voice was a roar of challenge.
Instead of answering, the stranger turned on his heels and ran hard and fast. As he moved, he threw something small at Joe. It hit him on the brow and dropped him hard. Without even seeming to pause, he threw something else at the monster Cody had become and nailed him in the throat.
A moment later, Joe was back up and growling low in his throat. Not-Cody was behind him, still coughing and gagging from whatever had hit him. Gene saw the two metal ball bearings that had been thrown. They were the size of small apples and had hit each of them with deadly accuracy. Neither gave chase.
“We need to leave,” Joe warned, rubbing his temple. “They might bring back others.” He looked around for a moment and then went to the receptionist’s desk and fished around for a few moments. He came back with a Rolodex full of business cards.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky. I saw a few addresses in here, including one for Evelyn Hope.”
“What does it matter?” Kyrie was the one who asked the question that Gene wanted to ask. She spoke softly, but just loud enough for everyone to hear. “How can we have a normal life? How can any of us have normal lives? There’s two of us in each body.”
Joe shook his head and smiled again as he moved closer to her. He looked her from head to toe, and Gene could see that Joe had that much in common with Hunter. They both thought Kyrie was hot.
“Yeah. We each have two lives. Now, which sounds better? Two lives that switch whenever they want to? Or taking turns?”
Kyrie thought about that for a moment and conceded. “Taking turns, I guess.”
“Maybe she can’t fix us. But she should be able to help us work out something. I don’t like Hunter. Hunter doesn’t like me. But I can live with him being around if I know I can have a life and schedule things. Seriously.”
Gene managed not to speak. He was good at reading people. He had no doubt, however, that Joe Bronx was lying through his teeth.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Kyrie Merriwether
When they were outside and standing together, it all felt surreal. She was cold enough to wish she had a jacket. Only a few minutes ago she’d been watching fighters kicking the crap out of each other in an abandoned office, and all around her the world was still going on like nothing had happened.
Kyrie looked at the lot she was stuck with and tried to make the best of it. That was what her folks had always taught her. Find the positive. Here she was standing with people who were, for better or worse, like her. They were adopted, but it was more than that. They were, well, they were freaks, just like she was.
She wasn’t used to this. Not long ago the biggest challenge she was facing outside of Mr. Summer’s calculus class was whether she was going to the movies with Luke Harper or Dan Fielding. Now? She wasn’t likely to go on a date with anyone again unless they managed to find Evelyn Hope and get some answers.
Tina, the only other girl in the group, was looking at her with a hard expression. That seemed to be the only sort of expression the girl could make. Tina gave away nothing. She was the sort of girl that always left Kyrie feeling uncomfortable. And yet here they both were, stuck together unless they could find out how to fix whatever the hell had broken inside of them. Others. That’s what Joe called them. Our Others. All the bad stuff we don’t normally like to let out. All the things we’re supposed to keep inside and never, ever show to other people.
The other personalities that were hiding away, sleeping inside of them. The scary, strong creatures who were capable of very bad things. She thought about the blood she’d already washed off her hands, blood from at least one trucker, maybe more.
“Screw this,” Kyrie said. “We need to find that bitch.”
Joe looked her way and lifted one eyebrow, an amused grin spreading on his handsome features.
Gene looked at her and opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying anything. He was good at that. She could see he wanted to say more, but he was waiting to see if someone else would say it for him. It was safer that way, maybe. She wasn’t quite sure what she thought of him yet.
The Other who was Cody opened his mouth to speak, but she pointed a finger at him. “And what am I supposed to call you, anyway?”
“What?”
“You aren’t Cody. So what’s your name? What do you want us to call you?”
He contemplated that for a moment, his face unreadable, his eyes locked on hers. “Call me Hank. I like the name Hank.”
“Hank it is.” She exhaled a deep breath. “We need to get to Chicago; how are we getting there?”
Tina stared Hank up and down for a minute. “Joe has a fake ID. We rent a car.”
“How do you know I have an ID?”
She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her narrow hips. One eyebrow lifted and the expression on her face dared him to disagree with her. “Rented a hotel room. A nice one. That means you have an ID and probably a
