I hear a door close behind us, my other senses heightened by the true blackness that entombs us in. My eyes fight to adjust, but without light to leak through cracks and windows, it’s a pointless endeavor. All I see are the shapes of shadows I can’t trust. It’s much more likely that the rods and cones in my eyes are firing due to the lack of stimulation.
Through it all, Black Monarch’s grip remains steady on my side, guiding me forward. Toward Zane. And C.
She abruptly releases me. I turn, common sense and training insisting that I keep the most-immediate threat in view at all times.
“Stay where you are.” Her voice echoes from the left, uncomfortably close, though that’s probably a trick being played by the dark and acoustics.
The light padding of her footsteps on stone reverberates through the space, swiftly followed by a sharp grinding intense enough to create a humming squeak. I cringe against the pitchringing in my ears, but it fades within a few seconds along with the movement.
Like a ghost in the night, Black Monarch’s at my side again. I startle just a little at the sudden proximity. “Take my hand. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt running around all alone in the dark, would we?”
A fingernail brushes a tantalizing trail up the center of my palm. I jerk backward, only to feel the firm band of her forearm wrap around my neck and shoulders once more. I try, and fail, to push her off, her laughter ringing all the while.
“So feisty,” she snarks. “But you’re not going anywhere without a pair of these.”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist, dragging my hand to find something thick and metallic covering the space where her eyes should be.
“Thanks.” I yank down on the device as hard as I can, then let it go. It slaps hard against her nose from the sound the crack makes.
“Son of a bitch!”
I bolt into the dark and careen almost immediately into a wall. I stifle my pained moan as much as I can and keep moving. Hand over hand, I trace my path to an opening. For all I know, my next step could send me tumbling down a black pit, never to be seen again. Black Monarch won’t be down for long, and she’ll be out for blood. I’m fucked if I don’t get some distance between me and those night vision goggles.
“Where did you run off to, pet?” Her voice echoes off the walls. She could be in the next room still, or right next to me and it would still sound the same.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Why are you hiding? Let’s see if those pretty powers live up to all the hype.”
I keep following the wall until it turns again, praying that I’m not traveling in a circle, back into her waiting clutches.
“You can access your powers, can’t you, Checkmate? Or did Charade strip you of that particular talent too?”
“Fuck you,” I spit back despite my better judgment.
Of all the things Angelis told me, the fact that I am a Super is perhaps the most unbelievable. Like something that could only happen in books or movies. Not my real life.
It would help if I could actually access these supposed powers. Using them should be as natural to me as breathing, but… sometimes I think I can feel the threads ofsomethingthere, just out of reach.
She laughs. “Hit a nerve, did I? Charade really messed up. Come with me, pet. C will get you all fixed up, and then you and I can fix everything else. Together.”
Shit. That last word sounded like it came from somewhere to my left, definitely too close for comfort. Those night vision goggles will spot me as soon as she walks in the room.
Okay, don’t panic.They said my powers are energy based, and that I need a reserve to draw from. As far as I can tell, I won’t get any help in that department down here, so that leaves Black Monarch and me. Her goggles have to have a power source. If I can get my hands on them, I can try to draw it out and then…
What? Blast her with light? Then I’d still be stuck down here in the darkness with no idea where I’m going.
I may not be the Checkmate that everyone expects me to be, but she’s somewhere inside me.And she’s pissed.My chest heats with the warmth of it. Passion and anger. It doesn’t matter that I’m wandering around in the dank and the cold. Not when I carry a blaze of fire in my soul.
Slowly, a dull glow alights. I raise my fists to find small flames licking up the surface of my skin. Fuck.
I really am Checkmate.
“There you are.”
My eyes dart up just in time to see her charge at me from the shadows. My hands flare with light as the flames grow without bidding, and I brace myself.
She hits like a linebacker, her bodyweight an anvil aimed at my torso. I stumble as her mass rockets shoulder-first into my stomach. I gasp as my breath is knocked out of me. I plant my hands on her back. Maybe a minor burn will shock her into letting go. Just as I choke for air, so do the flames on my hands.
