Guarding.
Teresa was trying to tell everyone to stop, even while coordinating us in a defensive way. I admired her determination, but it was a losing battle. The kids were on the offense in a major way.
Firework Boy sent a couple of his blue babies right at Teresa, who threw up a haze of orb energy that worked as a force field. They bounced off and one hit the Incredible Growing Boy. The other firework slammed into Sebastian, which knocked him into Gage, and the pair went tumbling against a pile of debris.
My hand closed around the grip of my Coltson.
Wings was back on his feet, creeping toward Teresa from her blind side. She was concentrating on Firework Boy, who was doing an excellent job of distracting her by tossing twist after twist of blue at her shield. Panther-Marco leapt from the pile of debris and crashed into Wings with a snarl.
Gage climbed out of the debris without Sebastian, only to be knocked down again by Sasha as she whirled past him.
I couldn’t use my left arm to steady my aim so I did my best. Sasha moved fast, almost too fast to track her, and she was erratic as hell. But she was hurting my friends, and she seemed to be in charge of the Junior Meta Squad, so taking her out felt like a good plan. Ethan hit the air again, and then he and Sasha created a blast of wind that knocked Teresa and Firework Boy flat.
The Incredible Growing Boy had shrunk again, and I couldn’t see him. Marco seemed to have Wings well in paw, holding him by the neck with his powerful cat jaws.
Ethan swooped low to the floor. The Incredible Growing Boy shot up in size fast enough to grab Ethan by the throat. I aimed at IGB’s arm and squeezed the trigger. Blood spouted from his wrist. He screamed and dropped Ethan.
The shot caught everyone’s attention, including Sasha’s. Her whirlwind spun at me. I changed my aim. Sasha yelped and hit the gym floor in a heap. Behind her, Teresa was on her knees, hands out in our direction.
“Retreat, now!” Teresa shouted.
Ethan and Gage dragged Sebastian out of the pile of rubble. Teresa helped me up, and we ran together, with Marco by our side. Retreating felt wrong, and we ducked a few more blue fireworks on the way out. The Junior Meta Squad didn’t chase us, though, once we were through the gym doors and heading for the outside of the building.
The police car was still parked next to our two Sports, but the cops were nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t seen them inside during or at the end of the fight, either. Probably hiding in the janitor’s closet, the wimps.
The thought made me giggle, which earned me a concerned look from Teresa. She stuffed me into the backseat of one of the Sports, next to Sebastian. He had a wide cut on his collarbone and a large knot on his temple. My arm was bleeding all over the place—another ruined uniform.
Marco shifted back to a man and drove our Sport, putting Teresa, Gage and Ethan in the other vehicle. None of us talked on the race back to Governors Island. We were under orders to report directly to the infirmary. I wasn’t about to argue. Every movement sent stabbing pains up and down my arm, and I was having a hard time not bursting into tears from the agony. I’d been stretched, burned, and beaten, but this was my first bullet wound.
It felt like half the people at HQ were waiting when the puddle-jumper landed, including Dr. Kinsey and Jessica Lam. They hustled me and Sebastian off to the infirmary, while Teresa and Gage tried to explain to Aaron, Alexia, and a dozen others what was going on without really telling them anything.
The bullet had gone clean through my arm without hitting bone, which meant I got stitches, antibiotics, and a nice, thick bandage. And another scar for my personal collection. Not that this one would be very visible through the preexisting burn scars. After Dr. Kinsey left my cubicle, I stared at my arm while I waited for the painkillers to kick in. The best part of my long-sleeved uniform was that it hid those scars, but Kinsey had cut off the entire left sleeve before stitching me up. I couldn’t hide the scars from myself or anyone else.
The curtain around my cubicle parted and Thatcher appeared. He stared at me with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth open in shock. “I was with Landon, I just heard,” he said, a little breathless.
I blinked at him, curious why he was fuzzy around the edges. “You should be with him.”
“Jessica said you were shot.” He sounded like saying the words physically pained him. It was . . . sweet.
“I was shot.” I pointed at my bandage with my good arm. “See?”
He came inside the curtain and stopped in front of the table I sat on. He wasn’t as fuzzy close up.
“I’m fuzzy?” he asked.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.”
“I got the good drugs.”
“Ah. Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not like before. Everything’s a little floaty right now.”
“I’m sorry you were hurt, Renee.”
“Isn’t your fault. The Junior Meta Squad got feisty when the cops showed up.”
“Junior Meta Squad?”
“Long story. Those kids have pretty cool powers, by the way. One of them got shot, too. Fucking cops.”
“A police officer shot you?” His expression went dark, fierce, and protective in a way that made my heart flutter.
“By accident. I think.” The details were getting hard to recall. “How’s Sebastian?”
“I overheard Dr. Kinsey mention a concussion.”
“Bummer.”
He cupped my chin in the palm of his hand, a sweet gesture that sent warmth flooding through my insides. He looked at me with such tenderness that I nearly kissed him right then and there, just to see what it was like. “I wish I’d been there to protect you,” he said softly.
“You probably couldn’t have. It was a wild shot.”
“Not from the bullet.” He sighed. “Well, yes, from the bullet, but from all of it. The entire fight. It sounds ridiculous, I know, when we aren’t even friends.”
“We’re friends.” He’d brought me a sandwich, twice. We had pleasant conversations. How could he not think we were friends?
“I thought I was just a Bane you had to babysit until the job was done.”
He was really challenging me on this when my brain was mushy with painkillers?
“Sorry,” he said.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” He shifted a little closer, until he seemed to consume my entire world with his size and sheer presence. “You’ve gotten under my skin, Renee. I don’t even know how that happened.”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know what I was apologizing for, only that he looked so sad that it felt like the right thing to say.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything for a woman that I’m being selfish.”
As much as I wanted to be scared, I couldn’t get there. All I felt through the funny fog of drugs was happy. Happy that someone saw me again.
The curtain jangled, and Thatcher pulled back. The loss of his warm touch made me flinch. Teresa stepped inside the cubicle. She gave Thatcher a curious look, then fixed her purple gaze on me.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Floaty,” I replied. “How’d we do?”
“Sebastian has a slight concussion, bruised ribs, and needs some stitches on his chest. Everyone else has bumps and bruises.”
“How about you?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, bumps and bruises.”
