Broken (5 page)

“
Because you were going to be the hardest.” I watched his eyes, and they were warm again, even as I watched him struggle to stay conscious. The sweat was rolling off him now, dripping off his forehead and soaking his white t-shirt.

He smiled. “I’m a tough target. Taught you everything I know. Everything.” His smile evaporated. “You really were my best student.”

“
I know,” I said. “Which is why you had to be first.”

“
No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not helping Winter anymore. I told him to shove it, after … “ he swallowed, “what happened. I told him he was on his own.”

“
I know,” I said, squatting down across from him as I picked up the shotgun. “I heard about that.”

“
I never wanted to—” His whole face sagged, and I watched his tough facade deteriorate. “I never wanted to do what we did that night. But you … “ He gasped, holding his chest, and I knew it must be agonizing. “You don’t know how bad it’s gonna be, what’s coming. I wish … I wish I’d seen a better way, but I didn’t.” He blinked, and then his next words came out choked. “I wish I could make it right.”

“
You can’t.” I felt the bite when I said it. “Are there more guns in the basement?”

“
Whole damned arsenal,” he said with a faint smile, struggling to get each word out.

“
Any traps?”

“
All the standard ones,” he said, leaning his head against the cabinets. “You know how to get through ‘em.”

“
I do,” I said, “because I was your best student.” I stood. “And that’s why you had to be first.”

He blinked, drowsy, and looked up at me. “I don’t understand.”

“
You always taught me to take out the hardest target first.” I stared down at him, knowing I couldn’t allow myself to feel anything. I forced it all back, every feeling, every emotion, behind a wall.

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna be the hardest target. Not by a long shot. Old Man Winter … he’s got the others still looking out for him, at least one of them at all times, plus some of the agents that are left over—”

“
I know,” I said. “He’s still not the hardest target.” I pulled the pistol up from where it hung at my side and aimed it at him, staring at his face over the sights, the red dots lining up just below the spot between his eyes—exactly as he’d taught me to do it. It wavered a little in my hand as I did it. “This was always going to be the hardest thing I had to do.”

There was a slow nod of realization from him as he stared back at me, not at the gun in my hand. “I’m glad it’s you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m glad it’s going to be you, because another week of this and I would have done it myself.”

I felt the tug of emotion on my face as I held the pistol level with his eyes, but I held it back. I felt my hand quiver, and the pistol shook. I looked down the sights at him, when I knew he had trained me to look at the front sight, to keep it in focus. At this range it didn’t matter, but it was what I had been trained to do. “Is it supposed to be … “ I heard my voice crack. “Is it supposed to be this hard?”

I saw his face straighten, and his eyes were warm as he looked back at me, the instructor one last time. “It gets easier. Just—”

I focused on the front sight and his face blurred. My finger stroked the trigger once, then again in a double tap automatically, just like he’d taught me. Blood spattered my clothes, blending with the mud already caked on me, and I thought idly about how I’d never get either cleaned off, maybe ever again. I fired twice more to be sure he was dead, then felt my hand fall to my side after I re-safetied my pistol and then it automatically went back to the holster before I even realized it. That was a product of all his training, perfectly executed. I left the shotgun by the door as I walked out, each foot carrying me back toward the car; I’d need it to retrieve the weapons in the basement. I had no idea what I’d be heading into next and it always paid to be prepared for any situation. Someone had taught me that, once, a long time ago.

As I stepped out into the freezing air, I felt the tears I didn’t even know I had shed turn cold on my cheeks.

6.

The light was bright around me, glaring through windows in spite of a gray sky, and I wondered if I was dreaming again. The world came slowly into focus, details emerging. There was a stone desk that looked like a rock mounted on wooden legs. Behind it sat a massive man who was nearing seven feet tall, his hair grayer than the sky behind him. The smell of leather from the chair I was seated in hung in the air. It felt new where my hands gripped the armrests. I looked around quietly, and saw Zack sitting to my side, his blond hair looking more mussed than ever. Old Man Winter sat across the desk from him.

“
Ariadne told me you had some difficulty in apprehending the subject,” Old Man Winter said, his voice a low rumble. I looked down and realized that it was as though I wasn’t there, disembodied, a fly on the wall for a conversation between these two men. Winter’s low timbre set my non-existent teeth to grinding, slow emotion rising as I tried to blink eyelids that weren’t there and I tried to reconcile this memory of something I couldn’t recall ever happening.

“
Yeah,” Zack said, and his whole body was uneasy, his posture tense. “Shouldn’t Kurt be here for this? We went to her house to retrieve her together—”

“
There is no need for me to speak to Kurt about this,” Old Man Winter said with a simple wave of his hand. “His report and yours were exceptionally clear in the timing and execution of your entry into the house and subsequent pursuit to the grocery store.”

“
That was all Kurt,” Zack said uneasily. “He managed to affix one of our pen trackers to the bumper of the car the girl—uh … Sienna, I think her name was—made her escape in.”

“
Her name is indeed Sienna,” Old Man Winter said and, ponderously slow, he stood up then made his way to the window. There was snow on the ground beyond, covering the Directorate campus as I tried to fit this memory into my own. A slow realization had crept over me during the conversation; it had to have taken place right after Kurt and Zack had come to my house, after they had saved me from Wolfe the first time.

“
We still have no idea who she was with when she was attacked or what the … “ his distaste was evident, “ … thing that attacked her was—”

“
His name is Wolfe,” Old Man Winter said, “and he is very dangerous; Ariadne will ensure you see his file. I know you have not been working here long enough to have encountered someone with his scope of power.”

“
I’ve seen some pretty crazy things since I started working here,” Zack said, filling the pause in the conversation.

“
I have read your reports, reviewed your assignments,” Old Man Winter said, looking back over his shoulder at Zack. “You have never seen anything like him.”

“
He ran,” Zack said, with a shrug. “Ran from us, a couple humans armed with nothing more than tranquilizer guns, per your mission orders.”

“
There was surely more to it than that,” Old Man Winter said. “Something you have not seen. Wolfe … would not surrender something he was after so easily, and I very much doubt that a simple tranquilizer would give him any pause.”

Zack shrugged again. “If you say so.” He sat in quiet for a moment, his discomfort evident. “Is there … anything else?”

“
Yes,” Old Man Winter said, turning back and returning to his seat, easing himself into the heavy chair as it squeaked at his weight. “The girl.”

“
The girl?” Zack frowned. “What about her?”

“
She has been isolated for years,” Old Man Winter said, “held captive by her mother. She will know little of the world, and now Wolfe—a meta of considerable power, a remnant of the old days of metahuman involvement in human affairs—has attempted to capture her. Another player of unknown origin has helped her to escape us. We know nothing of what she is standing in the middle of, but I know Wolfe, and if he is involved then she is important in some way.”

Zack looked carefully at Old Man Winter. “Um, okay. I mean, she’s here now, so we can protect her—”

“
Protection is not all she will require,” Old Man Winter said coldly, “assuming she accepts it. Her mother was strong-willed, difficult. I would expect the same from her and be pleasantly surprised if she was more … malleable. She will try to escape and eventually succeed, provided she is half as strong as Sierra. We must give her reasons to stay. Persuade her to cooperate until we can determine her purpose and powers.”

The uneasiness that hung over Zack like a pall grew deeper. “I guess I can understand wanting to protect her until we can find out a little more of the mystery around her, but maybe if we were honest—”

“
Honesty is not the best policy in a case such as this,” Old Man Winter said, icy eyes staring at Zack. “Would you care to explain to a seventeen-year-old that she has unknown powers and is pursued by a man who is not a man at all but a mythical being who was once known as one-third of Cerberus, the hellhound? Some of this she will accept, but we have not enough answers to give. Honesty will not convince her to remain here, protected. We will need to give her … other reasons.” There was never much emotion in anything Winter said, but there was something approaching wry amusement in the way he said it.

Zack stared at him blankly. “What … did you have in mind? I mean, there are other kids her age—”

“
No,” Winter said with a firm shake of the head. “None of them work for us; they are … unreliable in this.” Somehow he made the word
unreliable
sound like it was the worst thing that anyone could ever be.

“
Unreliable for what?” Zack’s face was slack yet expectant. He had no idea.

“
From the housing record,” Winter said, watching Zack carefully, “we can assume she has lived in the same home for something on the order of twelve years. From your report, it would appear that the girl has been isolated from the outside world, from exposure to others.” He didn’t blink, his cold blue eyes shining with a glow that was otherworldly. “She has had no friends, no family but her mother, who is best described as cold,” Winter appeared to savor the hint of irony present in him calling someone else cold, “and has no romantic attachments.”

Zack’s mouth was slightly open, just short of agape. “That’s tragic. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“
I want you to give her a romantic attachment,” Winter said bluntly.

“
I’m sorry, what?” Zack blinked, and his head cocked slightly to the side.

“
She will not know people,” Winter said, “not truly. She has no connection with anyone. I want you to form a connection with her. Be friendly. Be more. Give her a reason to want to stay.”

The gears were ratcheting in Zack’s mind, it was obvious from the barely concealed disbelief written on his face. “You want me to … pretend to be her friend?”

“
No,” Winter said, “I want you to genuinely be her friend. And if the opportunity arises, I want you try for more—a romantic relationship.”

“
Jesus,” Zack breathed. “The girl is seventeen.”

“
I have no care for her age, only her importance.”

There was a long pause as Zack studied the floor, his shoes, everything but the man sitting across the desk from him. “I … uh … I don’t know how to say this. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, hiring me and all. I recognize that this is a very good job, especially compared to what some of my classmates ended up with, but—”

“
You are reluctant to infiltrate the confidences of a seventeen year old girl.” Old Man Winter stared at him, knowingly.

“
It doesn’t seem right,” Zack said. “She’s—”

“
She will be dead within a month unless she remains here,” Old Man Winter said. “Or a captive of Wolfe, which will be no great kindness. Read his file. Watch the interrogation as Ariadne speaks with Sienna. I suspect you will see a defiant persona, one hesitant to trust. I ask you to act in her best interests, to keep her here and safe from harm.”

Zack ran a hand through his hair, and the strands slipped through his fingers a few at a time. “I don’t know. I mean … she’s so young … “

“
Of course, with this assignment,” Old Man Winter said, “would come some additional benefits—a raise in pay, a promotion, the knowledge that your career with us is a very serious business for you. It would be an opportunity for you to prove yourself, to prove that you are capable of more complex assignments than simple … agent work.”

I saw Zack swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. It’d be like undercover work.” I watched him go through a series of thoughts in his head, and I knew he was rationalizing something that he didn’t really want to do. I’d seen the same look from him when I asked him to go with me to the mall. “That makes sense. And it’s for her own good, after all. But uh … I mean, with a seventeen-year-old … I don’t know that I feel comfortable with a romantic situation—”