far away and deep inside Lucien’s brain. He tried to move, but his limbs weren’t responding to his commands. No, not like this. A strange numbness seeped through his body, radiating out from the touch on his arm. If inertia were a physical sensation, it would feel like this. His thoughts began to loosen and unravel, too fuzzy and soft to hold any shape.
“You don’t want to leave, Mr. Wroth. You promised to stay and help me. To save Mirage. I can’t stand the thought of precious Mirage being hurt, so I will keep her by my side. We’ll retreat to a safe location. And you will bomb the Super Summit, won’t you, Mr. Wroth?”
He didn’t make any intention to form the words, they simply happened, as if he’d heard someone else speak. “I will.”
“Very good, Mr. Wroth. Very good.”
Chapter Thirteen
Superbad for Beginners
Darla stormed out of the mayor’s office, knocking the door clean off its hinges and too angry to care. “Pompous bastard,” she muttered as she stalked down the hall and into the rotunda.
After all the times she’d protected this city, he hadn’t even had the decency to pretend to believe her. And she had proof! The bug she’d placed on Lucien when she hugged him goodbye had picked up more than enough to condemn Kevin—before it and the GPS device had gone dead.
Darla shoved the MP3 player into her purse before she crushed it in her grip. Admittedly, the recording didn’t exactly paint Lucien in the most innocent of lights, but when she’d insisted Kevin was using some kind of mind control on him and the mayor needed to mobilize the city’s resources to mount a rescue mission for Lucien, the self-important bastard she’d helped put into office had the nerve to pat her hand and tell her to take a few days to go to a spa. A spa!
“I’ll shove a spa up his ass,” Darla snarled, stomping down the steps of city hall, the midday pedestrians darting out of her path.
As much as she wanted to pummel the mayor, ninety percent of her anger was directed at herself. She’d lost Lucien.
She’d followed him last night, skulking—as much as it was possible to skulk among the cumulus clouds—until the boat had simply vanished, so abruptly she knew Mirage had to have a hand in it. The sound recording on the device she’d borrowed from Trident Tech was the only evidence she had that the entire previous day hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.
But it wasn’t. Lucien was in trouble.
Her cell phone rang and she lunged for it, hitting the talk button so hard it was a small miracle the screen didn’t crack. Thank Trident for that polymer. “Lucien?”
“Lucien?” Tandy parroted back. “Who do we know called Lucien, and why are you so eager for him to call?”
Shit. Stupid, Darla. Of course he wouldn’t call. He’s busy being mind-fucked by a sociopath. “Tandy, I can’t really talk now.”
She needed to find Lucien, which meant she needed a plan, but he hadn’t been wrong when he said heroes were all instinct and muscle. Planning wasn’t really her forte. Think like a villain, Darla. What would Lucien do?
“Have you seen the papers?” Tandy went on.
“I’ve seen them.” DemonSpawn: Public Enemy Number One. Lethal Force Authorized. Darla had flown straight to the mayor’s office as soon as she’d seen those words.
“I can’t believe he would do that.” Tandy gasped.
“He wouldn’t,” Darla insisted. “I know him, Tandy. It has to be mind control.”
“Mind control? Oh, honey, I know you want to think the best of Kyle, but sometimes an asshole is just an asshole.”
“Kyle? What does this have to do with Kyle?” The time in her life when Kyle had even been a blip on her radar felt like a million years ago. Only Lucien mattered now.
“The picture on the society page? Kyle and Charlotte Chase? Wait, what were you talking about? Who’s under mind control?”
“No one. I’ve gotta go, Tandy.”
“Wait! Are you free this Saturday? My brother
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