Chapter 3

Episode 10 - Whistle Down the Wind

“So, what’s the verdict?” Harper yawned into the silence that had fallen over the room, and Car hummed noncommittally.

“I mean, he’s fine as long as he’s concentrating. Which was technically always the case. It’s just a lot safer to be around when he defaults to not concentrating.”

“Which…might not be a bad thing.” Rachelle chewed thoughtfully on her lip, and Brady reached over to brush her arm in warning. She gave him a quick smile of thanks before returning her attention to the earpiece.

“No, it’s a plus every way I can think of.” Car paused for a few seconds, as if waiting for someone to contradict her before continuing. “We good to head out, then?”

Rachelle’s gaze swept the room, pausing on each member of the team with a last searching out of any lingering concern, then she nodded slowly.

“Yes. I think you’re fine. Marcus, just keep in tune with things, okay? If it starts to act weird—well, weirder—please tell us right away.”

“Will do!” Marcus’s grin was fully back in his voice, and Brady couldn’t help smiling in response, even though the teen couldn’t see.

“Any clues on why it’s working weird today? Mattox changed anything important recently?” Dash’s usual scowl gave nothing away, but Brady wondered if it was just his imagination that traced a thread of concern in the question.

“Last time she changed anything was more than a month ago, and that was a very slight tweak to the solution—to the inert part, not the active chemicals. We’ve all had it at least twice since then, including Marcus, and none of us noticed any difference until today.”

“So maybe not the injection then.” Harper stretched hard and shuffled off her couch and toward the cupboard. “Was anything feeling weird before you got it?”

“Not that I could tell. It’s—not like I was noticing when I was mostly just trying to breathe.” Marcus sighed. “Do we have to pick apart the replay? You guys are making me feel like a lab rat.”

“Anybody want to break it to him?” Dash rumbled dryly, and Brady chuckled.

“Afraid we kind of are lab rats, buddy. We should probably just be thankful the tweaks don’t get to us until they’ve passed the actual rats.”

Rachelle gave a little huff but didn’t actually argue, and Harper snickered out loud.

“That’d be a trip, wouldn’t it? If we got all the ideas before they passed the ‘actually have a chance of working’ stage? Might be fun to just randomly light up like a Christmas tree someday. Not sure what I’d do with it, though. What kind of weird side effect would you want, if it would only last for a day?”

“Oh, wow, that’s a good question!” The earnest interest in Marcus’s voice checked the total disinterest threatened to creep into Brady’s. “I don’t know. Flying sounds fun, though. If I could do it without having to bounce off a building or street, right? Like, controlling the actual air?”

“You’re really angling to be Grace’s favorite, huh?” Brady couldn’t help a smile at the memory of the little girl’s disappointment that no one on the team had gotten her favorite superpower, and Dash snorted.

“As if.”

Before Brady had time to figure out what he was even referring to, Harper spoke from the corner.

“Okay, so I’d be a light bulb and Micro’d be an airplane. Somebody else take it.”

“Honestly? Not sure there’s a different weird effect I’d be okay with.” Brady sighed. “I’m just glad we’re not getting the ‘oh, that was actually deadly’ versions.”

“Come on, really?” A hint of disappointment colored Marcus’s tone, and Brady grimaced.

“What’s my ‘oops’ setting, though? Blocking one sense out entirely? Everything in the world smells like gingerbread? There’s not much else you can do with senses and still be anything close to legitimately cool.”

“Hmm.” Marcus’s voice changed back to thoughtful. “I guess I wasn’t thinking just your senses. What if it mixed up your brain and gave you super smarts? That could be pretty cool.”

Rachelle’s mouth dropped open, and Dash choked an outright guffaw. Harper squinted as though she didn’t get the joke, but the muffled sounds from Car’s phone indicated that she was trying unsuccessfully to smother her snickering.

“What’s so funny?” Marcus’s tone expressed only mild curiosity at first, but when only laughter answered, his voice rose as mild panic set in. “Wait, what did I say? Brady?”

It was hard to keep his mouth from twitching, but Brady pursed his lips in an attempt at a frown and tried to sound severe.

“It takes mixing up my brain to make me smart? Wow, thanks a lot, pal.”

“Wait, that’s not—that wasn’t—I didn’t—”

Harper seemed to catch the joke at the same instant Marcus did, and his frantic backtracking was nearly lost in her fit of giggles.

“Oh, that’s awful! You are so completely dead!”

Marcus groaned pitifully, and Brady opened his mouth to say something, but Dash’s deep growl cut him off.

“Owen, I swear, if you don’t make him grovel over that for more than half a second…”

Rachelle chuckled softly, but Brady wasn’t sure if it was more from Marcus’s blunder or Dash’s uncomfortably accurate observation.

“You’ll what?” For a wonder, it was Harper who came to his defense. “Start up a ‘too nice’ fine’? He doesn’t even have any marbles to steal.”

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s, like, negative fun,” Dash muttered, and Harper giggled, but Marcus piped up loyally.

“Hey! What’d Brady do? Pretty sure I’m the one who should—hey, Car, hold it!”

And somehow in the banter, he’d almost entirely forgotten what today was for. Brady’s neck and shoulders tensed instantly, and he forced himself to relax against the couch, reminding himself that Marcus had experience—that Car was there—that he couldn’t help from here anyway—all the helpful facts that meant absolutely nothing when listening to a teammate face down an unknown crisis.

“Whoa, whoa!” From the rush of air in Marcus’s earpiece, Brady was sure he’d given himself one of the little jetpack assists that he’d heard about but never actually seen in action. “Hey, easy, little man. Listen, you can’t go in there. Did you see the sign? Place might come down on your head if you stepped wrong.”

Brady thought he could hear the echo of a high voice from just too far away to make out words, and when Marcus spoke again, his voice was sober.

“Yeah, no, I get it. I do. But I need you to promise me you’re not going in after him, okay? Can you make that promise? ’Cause if you do, I’ll see if I can help you get him out a different way.” He paused just long enough for the response, then added, “Yeah, I really mean it. You promise and go wait on the corner, and I’ll get him out for you. Deal?”

Any reply was completely inaudible, and Brady drew a controlled breath, trying not to imagine worst-case scenarios, before Car spoke up, all trace of laughter in her voice gone.

“What exactly did you just promise, Whiz Kid? And what on earth are you going to do about it?”

“There’s a cat. Maybe a kitten; hard to tell. I saw it streaking toward the door in a blur. He’s not wrong about where it went. I can’t believe this place wasn’t demoed ages ago. I couldn’t just let him walk inside.” Marcus’s voice carried a hint of stubbornness and a hint of pleading that set Brady’s stomach on edge even more than Car’s warning tone when she answered.

“And what great plan do you have for getting it out that better not involve stepping foot in that place yourself? You are not kidding that it looks about one hard breath from coming down around your ears—and that’s a normie’s breath, not yours.”

Brady had never seen the building in question, but the picture he was getting was anything but reassuring, as was the little noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl that was definitely Marcus’s signal that he didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t have one. But I couldn’t just let him run in, and it was the only way I could make him stay out. There’s got to be something I can do. I’d say flush it out with a strong breeze, but I feel like I’d end up Big Bad Wolfing the thing.”

“You are not wrong. Got a plan B?”

Marcus groaned again, and Harper leaned forward from her seat at the table.

“Status update? Anything we can do to help?”

“We’ve got a—a kid’s pet trapped in the ricketiest dump of a building I’ve ever seen. Like, cartoon levels of about to fall to pieces. But I’ve got to find some way to get it out of there, or the kid is absolutely going in after it.”

“And it’s a cat.” Dash nearly spat the last word, and Brady turned a questioning look on him. The other guy sighed harshly. “Yep. That look alone says you never had one. Point is, you don’t coax a cat out of anywhere. It’ll come when it’s good and ready, or you’ll drag it out kicking and screaming. There’s just about no in between, unless this particular cat decides to pick you as its own for no apparent reason, and then you might be able to pull it out without the claws and teeth bit.”

It was absolutely true that Brady had never owned a cat—not for lack of begging from Eden every few years—but Dash’s description was too visceral and oddly specific to doubt that he somehow knew exactly what he was talking about, and Brady added the slightest possible tick mark to the meager tally of what he knew about Dash’s history.

“Wouldn’t know. I’m allergic.” Marcus gave a dry laugh that didn’t whistle into the void, and Brady was torn between admiration at his control and the dread of the unknown that had churned his gut ever since Marcus had first noticed things working differently.

“Then you definitely shouldn’t go after it.” It should have been the least controversial conclusion in the world, but Marcus’s answering huff sounded like he’d suggested climbing a rope with his hands tied.

“The allergies can’t get me today. At least not the respiratory ones. You said so yourself, remember?”

Unfortunately, Brady did, and that early prediction had been proven right in every other circumstance, but today it did nothing to soothe the uneasiness that seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart.

“Marcus, be careful. Keep an eye on the doors, and see if it gets bored and comes out on its own. The rest of us’ll brainstorm. Don’t rush this, okay?”

Marcus made a noise of grudging assent, and Brady closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks before fixing them on the other occupants of the common with what he hoped was a look of entreaty that didn’t need any more explanation.

“Just hold for a little bit, bud. We’ll come up with something. We just need time.”