Contagion (Toxic City, #3)(29)

“Before you could even think about muttering one of your earthquake whispers,” Jack said, “I could heat your guts to the temperature of the sun and melt you where you sit.”

“Then do it,” Reaper breathed.

“No,” Jack said. “Because you're right. I am different from all my friends. But I'm no better than any of them. I'm using what I have…I'm doing my best to help people. Not crush them. Not kill them.”

“But you've killed before,” Reaper said, smiling.

Jack glanced up at Fleeter, and she looked away. Her smile slipped. Was that shame, or fear?

“Yes, she's been watching you for me. And yes, she saw you dispatch those three Choppers. Imagine their families now, Jack. A little son waiting to see his father again. A daughter, returning from school with a picture she's painted for Mummy. Except Mummy isn't coming home. Because you turned her into jam.”

“I have imagined, and I always will. And it hurts. Because I care and you don't, and that makes you…” Jack shook his head, angry, shaking with frustration. “Worthless! You're worthless, Dad. You have so much, and you mean so little.” He sighed. “It's really so, so sad.”

Reaper stood. Jack tensed, but sensed no violence brewing in the man. Not yet. But he remained ready, each fingertip touching a different star. He thrummed with power, and he knew that if Reaper or any of the other Superiors made an aggressive move, he'd sweep them all away.

He wouldn't kill them. He'd simply move them aside so that he and his friends could carry on. Stronger than he had ever been before, his greatest strength was understanding his place. A friend amongst friends. Special, but no more than them.

“Go, Dad,” he said.

“Come with us,” Reaper said. It still sounded more like an order than a request. “No one can stop the bomb, so we're going to break out. And with your help, we'll succeed.”

“Just me?” Jack asked.

“All of you.” Reaper glanced around the boat, never looking at anyone for long. He only really had eyes for Jack.

“What is this?” Jack asked. He laughed, looked at Fleeter, but she was silent. “Just what? Last time we met you were happy to stay here and torture what you left of Miller. You wanted only violence, even when the Irregulars and Superiors did have some kind of alliance. So what is this?”

“A new alliance to save us all,” Reaper said.

“You don't need a healer, or a truth seer, to break out of London,” Jack said. “You've got all the firepower you need.”

Reaper stared at Jack as if trying to will the truth his way. But Jack still did not understand.

“We've chosen our own paths,” Jack said at last. “We're going to find a peaceful way out, for everyone. You and your so-called Superiors can do what you want.”

“But they're trying to kill us all!” Reaper said, and it was the closest Jack had heard him sound vulnerable and desperate. It was a plea.

But Jack looked around the boat at his friends, and he sensed their silent support.

“And that's why we'll escape London with the moral high ground,” he said. “Slaughter a thousand Choppers to get out, lose hundreds more survivors to the machine guns, and what way is that to expose ourselves to the world? People are going to be frightened enough of us. We have to show that we mean no harm.”

“And get blown up in the process,” Reaper said. “Very dignified. Very honourable.”

“Perhaps,” Jack said.

Reaper seemed ready to say something more, but he shook his head instead.

“You'll see that our way is the only way,” Jack said. “Use violence to break out, and they'll stop you eventually. Lock you up. Cut you into pieces, kill you.”

“You think we're destined for anything else?” Reaper asked, almost defeated.

“Tell them,” Fleeter said. The moment froze, as if the ice woman had gasped and chilled the air.

“Tell us what?” Jack asked.

Fleeter seemed nervous, shifting from foot to foot. Her smile remained, and Jack realised that it was a natural part of her. It displayed neither humour nor mockery, but rather a grim acceptance of how things were.

“Reaper,” she said. “Tell them why you really want the Irregulars with you.”

Reaper glared at her.

“A distraction,” she said. She took a couple of steps towards Jack, a symbolic gesture that seemed to shift the whole balance on the boat. I still can't trust her for a second, Jack thought. But this was more confusing than ever. Was it a part of Reaper's play?

“You can leave with him,” Jack said.

“Yeah, get the hell off my boat,” Sparky said.

Fleeter shook her head and came closer to Jack. He readied himself to flip, and at the first sign of her going he would do so. He wouldn't let her phase out, grasp him, knock him out, put him down. Everyone was depending on him, and that idea had been growing for some time. He was no better than any of them—he believed that deeply, because humility had always been a part of him—but they did rely on him. In these dangerous times, his own deadliness was their protection.

“You're cannon fodder,” Fleeter said to Jack. “You and all the Irregulars. Cause a distraction, draw fire while we can…while Reaper and the Superiors can escape.”