Free No Peace for the Damned by Megan Powell Page B

yellow. Just thinking about it made me dizzy.
    A chilly feeling trickled down my spine. Twice now my powers had acted in a way I hadn’t expected them to. Theo being shot across the yard during training—I’d figured that was from whatever was happening between us. But melting that gun in Charles’s hand…it was something I’d seen Father do before with his telekinesis, but I’d never done anything like it. Were these dreams more than just dreams? Was something inside me changing?
    Sirens approached Batalkis’s house. Several acres separated one neighbor from the next—probably enough to protect those living close by from the fires of the explosion. Not that I cared what happened to the neighbors, but still…
    I stayed with Charles until we came to another brick house farther back in the neighborhood. It was a lot like the one we’d just left—large, secluded, well maintained. We walked around a pondlike pool and entered the home’s lower level. The room was a game room—pool table, big couches, big-screen TV. The only other exit was the stairs. Right where Banks and Thirteen stood together, talking in low voices.
    Banks looked up when we entered. Thirteen turned away. Great.
    Charles met Shane at the pool table. Papers and surveillance photos covered the felt table in front of them. Their short-range scanners and monitoring equipment lined the wall behind them.
    I took a seat in a recliner against the wall. Cordele stretched out on the couch across from me. She eyed me steadily, holding her rib cage. I rolled my eyes.
    “Detective Pryor’s on his way,” Thirteen said into his cell phone. “He’ll be your Network contact with the IPD. Stick with the neighbors until he arrives.” Then he ended his call. I looked at my lap. The room stiffened as he walked over to stand in front of me. The corners of my eyes started to burn.
    Don’t you dare cry! Not in front of all these people…no matter how disappointed he is in you
.
    He crouched in front of me and waited until I looked up. This close, his huge body blocked the others from my sight.
    “Are you OK?” he asked, his voice tight. I nodded. His big hand gripped both of mine in my lap. He took a deep breath. His mind was too focused to read, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was holding back his own strong emotion.
    “Did you blow up Batalkis’s house?” he asked softly.
    The burn in my eyes threatened real tears. I shook my head no and, fortunately, that was enough. Thirteen let out the breath he’d been holding. He nodded, squeezed my hand once more, and then joined the others to review the surveillance equipment readout.
    …
    Afternoon sun lit up the game room. I checked my watch: 3:08 p.m.
Shit
. This wasn’t good. Thirteen stood over the pool table, Charles and Shane at his sides. Jon was on speakerphone. He and Theo were back at Batalkis’s working with the police. Like Thirteen, they both had government credentials that got them past the yellow tape. I could ignore the burning twitch and the pounding headache if it was Theo calling in to report. But with Jon talking…I held back a growl. My hands moved over my arms. My legs crossed and uncrossed every few seconds.
    “We’ve got a problem, Thirteen,” Detective Pryor whispered through the cell phone. “Give me a second while I find a secure location.”
    That’s it
. I had to do something.
    On hands and knees I scoured the entertainment center. DVDs, books, video games.
What the hell? Didn’t these people drink?
    I tried to focus on just Cordele’s thoughts, but it was no use; other thoughts kept slipping through. Shane was pissed—about the explosion, about missing Batalkis, about life in general. Then Charles—he was second-guessing his decisions, wondering how he could have prevented the house from going up in flames. And then there were even more: the fire crew at the explosion site, the neighbors who had come to watch. My head throbbed. I torethrough another shelving