Steelheart (The Reckoners #1)(9)

Harrison, a minor Epic with only a single power, the ability to re a handgun without ever running out of bullets. He was a bodyguard and hit

man

in

Steelheart’s

organization. There was no way he was part of the Reckoners’ plan— they didn’t work with Epics. Ever.

The Reckoners hated the Epics.

They only killed the worst of them, but they would never let one join their team.

Cursing softly to myself, I watched

Curveball

confront

Fortuity and the woman. She looked concerned, full lips pursed, gorgeous eyes narrowed. Yes, she was worried. She was one of the Reckoners for certain.

Curveball

started

talking,

explaining something, and Fortuity frowned. What was going on?

I turned my attention back to the woma n . There’s something about her …, I thought, my eyes lingering. She was younger than I’d originally

thought,

probably

eighteen

or

nineteen,

but

something in those eyes made her seem much older.

Her look of concern was gone in a moment, replaced by what I realized was intentional vapidity as she turned to Fortuity and gestured onward. Whatever the trap was, she needed him to be farther down the street. That made sense. Trapping a precog is tough.

If his danger senses got even a faint whi of a trap, he’d bolt. She had to know his weakness, but probably didn’t want to try to exploit it until they were more isolated.

Even then, it might not work.

Fortuity would still be an armed man, and many Epic weaknesses were notoriously tricky to exploit.

I kept watching. Whatever

Curveball’s problem was, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the woman. He kept gesturing back toward the playhouse. If he convinced Fortuity to return …

The trap would never be sprung.

The Reckoners would pull out, vanish, pick a new target. I could spend years searching for another chance like this one.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, I lowered my ri e and slung it over my shoulder. Then I stepped out onto the street and took o toward Fortuity.

It was time to hand the

Reckoners my résumé.





2

I hustled down the dark street on a steel sidewalk, passing in and out of pockets of light.

I might have just decided to do something very, very stupid. Like eating-meat-sold-by-shady—

understreet-vendors stupid. Maybe even stupider. The Reckoners planned their assassinations with extreme care. It hadn’t been my intention to interfere—only to watch, then try to get them to take me on. By stepping out of that alleyway, I changed things.

Interfered with the plan, whatever it was. There was a chance that everything was going just as it was supposed to—that Curveball was accounted for.

But maybe not. No plan was perfect, and even the Reckoners failed. Sometimes they pulled out, their target left alive. It was better to retreat than risk capture.

I didn’t know which situation this was, but I had to at least try to help. If I missed this opportunity, I’d curse myself for years.

All

three

people—Fortuity,

Curveball, and the beauty with the dangerous air—turned toward me as I ran up. “Donny!” I said. “We need you back at the Reeve!”

Curveball frowned at me, eyeing my ri e. He reached under his jacket for his gun, but didn’t pull it out. Fortuity, in his red suit and deep red cape, raised an eyebrow at me. If I’d been a danger, his powers would have warned him. I wasn’t planning to do anything to him in the next few minutes, though, so he got no warning.

“Who

are you?” Curveball demanded.

I stopped. “Who am I? Sparks, Donny! I’ve worked for Spritzer for three years now. Would it kil you to try remembering people’s names once in a while?”

My heart was thumping, but I tried not to show it. Spritzer was the guy who ran the Reeve Playhouse. Spritz wasn’t an Epic, but he was in Steelheart’s pay— pretty much anyone with any influence in the city was.

Curveball

studied

me

suspiciously, but I knew he didn’t give much mind to the lowlife thugs around him. In fact, he probably would have been shocked by how much I knew about him, along with most of the Epics in Newcago.

“Well?” I demanded. “You

coming?”

“You don’t give lip to me, boy.

What are you, a door guard?”

“I went on the Idolin raid last summer,” I said, crossing my arms.

“I’m moving up, Donny.”

“You call me sir, idiot,”

Curveball snapped, lowering his hand from his jacket. “If you were ‘moving up,’ you wouldn’t be running messages. What’s this nonsense about going back? He said he needed Fortuity to run some odds for him.”

I shrugged. “He didn’t tell me why; he just sent me to get you.

Said to say that he’d been wrong, and you weren’t to bother

Fortuity.” I looked to Fortuity. “I don’t think the Spritz knew about … er … that you had plans, sir.” I nodded to the woman.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. I was so nervous, you could have scratched o a lottery ticket by holding it against my knuckles.