As Vic watched, the tallest boy pulled back his arm,winding up for a good throw, a large stone in his fist. “Hey!” Vicbarked. He scowled, a look that could frighten the toughest of men.These kids didn’t stand a chance against it. “What the fuck are you boys doing?”
The three kids turned as one. Fear flashed acrosstheir faces, and Vic thought that would be the end of it. But thetall boy, he had spunk. Hefting the rock in his hand, he asked,“What’s it to you?”
“Leave that dog alone,” Vic warned.
The boy laughed, defiant. “What dog?” Turning to hisfriend, he shrugged and asked, “Do you see a dog here? Idon’t.”
Behind the Dumpster, the dog barked once, as ifrelieved to be rescued.
Tossing the rock at it, the boy hollered, “Shut up,you mutt.”
A metallic squeal rent the air as the Dumpster’s lidrose and bent back, twisting off its hinges. The rock struck thelid and bounced back at the boys, missing the dog completely. Thekids stared at each other, mouths agape. “How’d that happen?” oneof them asked.
“I said leave it alone,” Vic reminded them.
The tall boy stooped to pick up another rock. Thistime, he aimed at Vic. “Fuck you, asshole.”
On any other day, the rock might have hit Vic squarein the face. But there was enough trace metal in it to let Vic’stelekinetic ability send it flying off to one side. Taking a deepbreath to reign in his anger, Vic said, “Because you’re young andstupid? I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that.”
The other kid grabbed his friend’s arm. “Let’s go,Bobby. It’s not worth it.”
But Bobby was already on the ground, a handful ofrocks gathered into both hands. “This old man is dead,” hepromised.
Old man. Vicrolled his eyes—had he been this precocious at their age? He didn’tthink so. And he wasn’t old.Old men needed little blue pills to get it up, and Vic saw moreaction on a regular basis than most guys half his age. “Look,” hetried, “I’ll give you to the count of three. One—”
Bobby threw his stones, which fell like rain a goodtwo feet in front of Vic. The kid standing by himself laughed.“Dude, you suck.”
Behind Vic, the bicycles began to rattle nervously,as if anxious to get going. “Two.”
Another handful of rocks. This time Vic didn’t justlet them fall, but sent them back at Bobby, who ducked as theypelted him. Directly into the kid’s mind, Vic asked, ::Doesn’t feel too good, does it?::
“Let’s get out of here,” one of Bobby’s friends said,fear in his voice.
“Three.” Vic gave them a sinister grin. “Time’sup.”
The two nameless boys raced for their bikes but Bobbystood his ground, unwilling to be chased off. Closing his eyes, Vicchanneled the energy coursing through him and directed it at thethin frames of the bikes. When the kids touched the handlebars, themetal curled around their wrists like handcuffs. One boy shrieked;the other yelled, “Get it off! Get it off!”
Seemingly alive, the frames snaked around the boys’waists. Their hands were pulled behind their backs, their armspinned at their sides. Then the bikes rose in the air, movingtoward the fence, where the front tires snagged on posts high abovethe ground. The boys hung, suspended, held prisoner by the twistedmetal of their bikes.
When Vic opened his eyes, Bobby glared at him.Without a word, the boy turned and ran.
A nod of Vic’s head brought Bobby’s bike to life. Itflew after him like vengeance and tackled the boy to the ground. Hegot the same treatment as his friends—the handlebars tightenedaround his wrists as the rest of the bike wound around him. Then hewas hoisted into the air and hung from the fence like theothers.
The fight in his eyes didn’t die. “Get me down, youfreak! I’ll call the police! You’re so dead!”
With a flick of his hand, Vic sent a piece of scrapmetal flying at Bobby. It clamped across his mouth like a gag,silencing him. “Shut the fuck up.”
Vic glanced at the other two boys, who shook theirheads and pressed their lips together tight to show they wouldn’targue. What had Bobby said? I’llcall the police…
Good idea. Vic held a hand out at his waist—his cellphone leaped from its holster on his belt into his palm. It flippedopen on its own so Vic could press and hold the number four button.Number one on his speed dial was voicemail; two and three wereMatt’s cell and office numbers. Four was a direct line to…
“Kendra here.” The woman’s voice was tinny but clear.Vic raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Vic. What’s up?”
“You on duty?” he asked. Officer Kendra Jones workedfor the Richmond City police. She was the only person Vic had evertold about his superpowers and how he got them.
“I’m at lunch,” she admitted. “Where do you need meto be?”
“Over here on Leigh Street, near that new movie placethey’re building.” Edging around the Dumpster, Vic glanced in thedarkness and saw bright eyes staring back at him. The dog scootedaway and Vic knelt, the rest of his sausage held out like a peaceoffering. Cautiously, the dog inched forward, nose quivering. “Ihad a run in with some kids messing with a dog. I could use ahand.”
“Is the dog all right?” Kendra asked.
Vic shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s hiding.”
With a laugh, she asked, “Are the kids all right?”
“I didn’t touch them,” Vic said. Technically, thatwasn’t a lie.
“I’ll be right there,” Kendra promised.
As he hung up, Vic felt something hot and wet lickhis fingers. He looked down to find the dog still crouching behindthe Dumpster, but its head had stretched out and its tongue tastedVic’s hand. Then it found the remains of the sausage and bit at it.When Vic moved, a low growl rose in the back of the dog’sthroat.
“Shh,” Vic murmured. “It’s cool. It’s okay.”
The growl cut off as the dog watched him, wary.
Vic extended his hand a little farther. “Go on, takeit.”
With one large bite, the dog snagged the sausage andpulled it out of Vic’s palm. It scooted back into the darknessbehind the Dumpster, growling again as it ate.
Vic leaned back against the side of the building andsank into a squatting position to
