Free The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage by Joshua Guess Page B

unconscious, breaking several bones in the process.
    Ray's words the night before struck a chord in her, a deep sense of unease she had long suppressed. With Helix she had operated in a morally clear but legally murky area. Going after terrorist cells backed with reams of data proving the guilt of her targets was the right thing to do, even if using Next to do it required exploiting several loopholes in international law.
    Ray was right, to a degree. Since taking over as one of the two facility directors she had been forced to reevaluate her views on how the law dealt with the Next, and why. One of the larger drivers for that introspection was also her ten o'clock appointment.
    Right on cue, he knocked on the door.
    “Come in,” Kit said.
    John Franklin entered the office. Just shy of sixteen, Kit wasn't sure the kid hadn't grown an inch since last week's appointment. She checked that thought and gave it another pass through her brain. Given the wide variety of Next powers and physiology, it was possible he had grown an inch in a handful of days.
    Lean and getting broad in the shoulders, John was beginning to look less like a rough sketch of his father and more like a finished product. The anger Kit had been working mightily to temper and shape was nowhere to be seen; that was good. John had spent the first two months worth of meetings furious at the outset. Given what the boy had lived through recently, she couldn't blame him.
    But someone with his power couldn't walk around with a chip on his shoulder, no matter how well-deserved it might be. That, too, factored into Kit's evaluation of the Next as a group. People who could bend space-time or punch through a brick wall had to be held to a higher standard. Practicality—and the base fear of normal humans, historically known for raising pitchforks when needed—demanded it.
    “Good morning,” John said with a slight smile, his voice light.
    Kit cocked her head at him slightly. “You're in a good mood,” she noted. “I'm guessing it's a girl.”
    John managed to look affronted, though it was gone in a flash. “That's a pretty stereotypical assumption to make about someone my age.”
    Keeping her face straight with serious effort, Kit put up her hands in supplication. “You're right, that was rude of me.”
    “I mean, I could be happy because my dad bought me a car,” John protested.
    “Very true,” Kit agreed.
    “Or for a bunch of reasons,” John said. “Maybe I just had a really good morning.”
    Kit let that hang in the air for a few seconds, then nodded. “So, is it any of those things?”
    John wrinkled his face sourly. “No,” he said, before the smile crept back on his face. He mumbled something, though he knew full well how strong Kit's senses were.
    “What was that?” Kit asked sweetly.
    “Her name is Kristen,” John said with a grin.
     
     
    The air outside was brisk but tolerable. Kit had been training John indoors until now, owing to the weather. Today would be a test for both of them. For John, it would measure how much control he had learned, for Kit, how effective she was as a teacher.
    They stood just outside the main building, the office space which served as the tip of the massive iceberg that was the facility itself. Interlaced with lessons on meditation and channeling negative emotions, Kit had spent time teaching John how to use his abilities effectively.
    To gain a real understanding of how far the boy—the young man—had come, she'd have to teach him their limits.
    “Strip off your gear,” Kit said, motioning to a bare patch of dirt next to the office. “Take all the stuff out of your pockets, and remove your disruption watch.”
    This elicited a surprised grunt from John, who shrugged and did as he was told. The watch had always remained on during their sessions, a safeguard against him losing control of his temper. Kit usually kept a small activation fob in her hand as they worked. Not today.
    She threw off her coat, tossing