Reaper's Legacy: Book Two (Toxic City)(41)

“No,” Jack said. “It's not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm still learning.” And he was convinced that was the truth. He had used a power similar to Breezer's because the man had been close, and his star had shone brighter in Jack's mind's eye. But he could not do everything. Not yet.

He saw something in Breezer's eyes then that he had already glimpsed in his friends’: fear. He didn't like it at all.

“And how do we…” Breezer waved a hand about, indicating the Irregulars who shared the building with him. “How do we all meet with Reaper and his ‘Superiors,’ and not get spied by the bitch working for the Choppers.”


Jack looked around at them all. Sparky was tucking into a burger, big and burly and making loud chomping sounds, but Jack saw him glancing left and right, alert for the first sign of danger. Jenna sat close to Sparky, and though she was frowning, she gave Jack a brief smile that said, I trust you.

“That's something for me and Reaper to know,” Jack said. “I'll give you a location and a time. That's all.”

Breezer laughed, saw that Jack was serious, and stood slowly from the office chair.

“You expect me to accept that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jack said. “It's the element of surprise that will make this work, and the more people who know, the more likely we lose the surprise.”

Breezer shook his head and turned away, walking towards the glazed wall so that dawn threw his shadow back at them. He conversed with two of his people, and after a few moments his shoulders relaxed, and Jack knew that he had relented. Breezer's companions looked at Jack with something akin to wonder.

Don't be amazed by me, he thought. Don't fear me. Not for the first time, he wished he could shrug off Nomad's touch and rid himself of the memory of her taste. But doing so would be like changing his whole self. And no one really changed.

That was something he was banking on.

No one really changed.

Reaper had chosen the most innocuous, unlikely of places, and Jack had taken him on trust. He had no choice. If Reaper and his Superiors meant harm to Jack and his friends, they could have murdered them ten times over. If they had cruel plans for Breezer and the few Irregulars allied to him, they could doubtless have tracked them down, tortured them, killed them. Jack could only assume that Reaper's aim now matched his own—the discovery of Camp H.

The name Hope would take on a whole new meaning today.

“Well, this is nice,” Sparky said. “All we need now is an ice cream with one of those crumbly chocolate fingers stuck in it. And sprinkles, of course. Gotta have them.”

“Yeah,” Jenna said. “Must have sprinkles. What's the point of ice cream if you don't?”

“Precisely!” Sparky said. “Just what I've always said. Jack?”

“Flakey chocolate, yes. But on the sprinkles issue, I'm in neither camp,” Jack said. “I can take them or leave them, to be honest.”

Jenna and Sparky looked at him as if he was mad. Sparky's mouth hung open.

“You're weird,” Jenna said.

“Tell me about it,” Jack said.

They had righted a broken table and some chairs and were sitting on a wide pavement area outside a café in Covent Garden. Sparky had found three cans of flat lemonade and they were taking small sips, listening out for anyone approaching. Shade was somewhere nearby. Jack had seen him following them from Breezer's office block, glimpsing him from the corner of his eye. But there was no telling where he was now. He could have been inside one of the surrounding buildings—clothes stores, cafés, music shops, shoe shops, places of fashion and grace that meant little now—or perhaps he was closer by. Because even in the glare of day, this was a city of shadows. The cars had been motionless for so long, the shops undisturbed, that shadows seemed to have taken on some strange solidity.

They sat silently for a while, sipping their drinks, and it might have been the first time they'd been this still out in the open since entering London. Jack leaned back in his chair and thought about that—they'd always been running or hiding or seeing terrible things. Now, he could hear how silent this once-vibrant city had become.

A breeze rustled litter along the street. A door creaked open and closed. A bird of prey called somewhere in the distance. But the silence was louder.

“This just sucks,” Sparky said. Jack nodded without looking at his friend. Sparky had survived these past two years by believing that his brother might still be alive. He'd discovered that was not the case, and Jack was amazed at how well he had taken the news. Jenna had helped with that, Jack knew, and he was delighted that the two of them had come together at last. But it also showed that his burly, loud friend was perhaps more sensitive than them all.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “But it won't always be like this.”

“Can you be so sure?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, is that like…seeing the future?”

“I can't do that,” Jack said. “Don't think anyone can do that.”

“Can't say that,” Sparky said. “Don't know what else in London we haven't seen yet.”

“You okay?” Jack asked. Sparky looked up at him, staring into his eyes as he drained his can and belched.