Page 24 of Empowereds

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E nzo lay waiting and wondered if he was bleeding on anything.

Charity came back with the first aid kit for the second time that day. She filled a glass of water and sat down beside him. “Since we weren’t able to buy any numbing agent at Speedy’s, I’m giving you a fast-acting opiate so you don’t squirm while I’m sewing you up.” She handed him the glass and a pill. “It should take about five minutes to kick in.”

He eyed the pill with suspicion. “Will it make me loopy?”

She pulled items out of the kit. “Only for about a half an hour. You’ll just feel like you’re drunk.”

He didn’t take the pill. “I never get drunk.”

“You don’t have to have anesthesia,” she said. “I’m happy to sew you up without it.”

He popped the pill into his mouth and washed it down with water. If she wanted to drug him, she could put something in his food easily enough during the next two weeks. He might as well not forgo the painkiller.

Enzo laid back down on his stomach, his hands propped under his chin.

“Why don’t you ever get drunk?” Charity asked. Probably making small talk while she set about disinfecting her hands.

“When you’re drunk, you say things you shouldn’t and do things you regret later.”

“Ah,” she opened a bottle and wiped an iodine mixture across his back. “You’re worried you’ll give away classified information to the wrong people.”

It was more than that. He didn’t like feeling he wasn’t in complete control of himself. Being drunk made people slow, stupid, and happy for no reason.

Charity took a needle from the kit and wiped it with alcohol. The edges of the bottle blurred. Enzo shut his eyes. His head felt light, as though it drifted above his head. The painkiller was fast-acting.

He listened to the sound of her rustling supplies. No other noise penetrated the room. It was so quiet here. Underground bunkers were probably always that way—silent as the tomb.

Charity prodded his back. He’d lost track of time. He opened his eyes to see what she was doing. Her blonde hair hung down her shoulders in soft waves. Such shiny hair. Such a pretty woman. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her movements now like there’d been when they’d kissed earlier. She’d been so nervous then. So sweet. And he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“For what?” she asked.

“For all of it. Or at least most of it.” He thought of the way he’d kissed her. “There are a few things I might do again. Those parts, not as sorry.”

“I’m glad to know the painkiller is working.”

“I didn’t reject you,” he said.

“You did,” she said, matter of fact. “I was there and remember it.”

“I mean, I didn’t want to reject you. I like you, but I had to be logical.”

She leaned over his back, doing something to the wound. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to create a baby that you planned to abandon. That’s the one thing I respect about you right now.”

Well, at least she respected something. “I was only thinking about Junior, the chosen one, not myself. Most men would’ve acted differently. I’m telling you this because you haven’t had much experience.”

“And because you’re drunk. But it’s nice to know you had the chosen one’s best interest at heart. I’m sure you’ll be a good father someday.”

She was probably being sarcastic about that. He couldn’t tell. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter. “I’m not going to be a father. I’m going to be one of those officers who dies on the job. That’s always been my goal.”

She gently tugged on the wound. “That’s a horrible goal. Maybe you should get a different job.”

He didn’t comment about that, just shut his eyes and took deep breaths. She continued to touch his back. After a while, she put a new bandage on and began wiping the excess iodine off. He wished he wasn’t so numb. He would’ve liked to feel her fingers gliding over his skin.

“One,” he said.

“One what?”

“One woman. You asked how many. It was only Kitra.” Somehow, he needed Charity to understand. “We were secretly engaged.”

Charity returned things to the first aid kit. “Why secretly?”

Enzo sat up and stretched his neck. “Because we were nineteen. Our parents thought we should wait. They thought we had our whole lives ahead of us.” Enzo laughed, but the sound held no humor. “She was at the governor’s house with our fathers when the terrorists attacked. They all died.”

Charity gasped, and her blue eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.”

Just talking about the event made Enzo feel like he’d stepped back through the years. He was there with the sirens wailing. Dust dimmed the streetlights, choking the air and making it hard to breathe. In the distance, small fires lit piles of rubble.

He tried to get past police barricades while helmeted officers barked at him to stay back, to return home. It didn’t matter how many times Enzo told them he had to get through.

There’s nothing you can do , they kept telling him.

The words had repeated in his mind for weeks like a mantra, like an accusation.

“I should’ve been with her that night,” he said. “But I was studying for a stupid, worthless college exam.”

Charity’s eyes turned sympathetic, and she put a hand on his arm. She couldn’t help offering comfort even though she hated him now. “It’s a good thing you weren’t there. I’m sure those who died were glad you weren’t.”

“I might have been able to save her.”

Charity shook her head. “You couldn’t have. If that had been possible, her father would’ve saved her.”

Enzo rubbed his forehead and tried to erase the pictures that always formed in his mind of Kitra, trapped and broken, under the rubble. Who knew how long she’d been alive, suffering, before they pulled her body from the wreckage. And none of it should’ve happened. None of it.

“Since I couldn’t protect Kitra, and I couldn’t die with her, I became a special ops officer. The Empowereds will keep destroying things until they’re stopped.” Charity needed to understand that. She needed to know what was at stake.

She withdrew her hand from Enzo’s arm, and her voice lost its warmth. “My father has only ever helped people. If you’d taken any time to get to know him, you’d realize that.”

Enzo reached for his shirt and gingerly put it on. The movement caused a pinch of pain in his back. The opiate was wearing off. “If that’s the case, why hasn’t he offered to use his powers to help the government? Why not help the entire country?”

“Because that’s not how psychic powers work. You can’t tell the visions what to show you. They show you…” she broke off, swallowed, and pressed her lips together. She thought she’d said too much.

He wasn’t going to let the subject drop. “They show a psychic how to get either money or power. I’m guessing your father falls into the power category. If psychics ever wanted to solve crimes or protect the country, I might feel differently. But somehow, none of them want to do that. Can you really blame me for hunting them?”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “My father doesn’t want money or power. He’s only trying to live his life and keep his family safe.”

Enzo laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled the edges of his shirt together and shoved the first button into its hole. “Your father left you alone with a trained enemy combatant for two weeks. No man who wanted to see his daughter alive again would do that. I don’t know what he was thinking of, but it wasn’t your safety.

“That makes me dislike him on your behalf, and it frustrates me beyond measure that you can’t see what he’s like. He just sacrificed your life.”

Charity’s head jerked back, surprised at his accusation. “No. He wouldn’t do that. He knew you wouldn’t hurt me—or at least his visions did. If we follow them, they protect us. Just like they protected us at the Sedalia marketplace. His vision told me to carry matches. Something good will come of the two of us being together. I don’t know what, but something.”

Such blind devotion to her father, such innocence.

Enzo knew from interview transcripts with other psychics that their visions centered on their core desire in life.

Wait—had she inadvertently revealed what her father’s core desire was?

His hands slowed at their task. Charity was right. He’d grown entirely too cynical and bitter about human nature. Just because all the other psychics wanted power and money didn’t mean a psychic couldn’t want something completely different. “Are you saying that when your father’s psychic powers first developed, his main goal in life was to keep his family safe? That’s what his visions center on?”

Her gaze shot to him, and the blood drained from her face. She hadn’t meant to tell him, and with good reason. When people knew what motivated a psychic, catching them became easier.

Enzo simultaneously felt relief, amazement, and a horrible sense of guilt. Ben wasn’t a danger to the government after all, and Enzo had nearly arrested him, might have even killed him. He let out a long, considering breath. “Well, that changes things.”

“Changes them how?”

“Your father isn’t a worry, but other things are.”

“Other things?”

The best thing to do would be to tell Schmitt what Ben’s core desire was so headquarters knew he wasn’t a threat. As soon as the idea occurred to Enzo, he dismissed it. The government wouldn’t leave Ben alone. If the wrong people found out about Ben’s core desire, he could still endanger the country.

Terrorists could capture his family members and threaten to hurt them unless he gave them passwords, codes, or whatever they wanted. The visions might show those things to Ben in order to keep his family alive. Charity would be in constant danger.

Enzo scrubbed his hand over his face. “Don’t ever tell anyone else what motivates your father. Don’t even hint at it so they can guess.”

Her face was still pale. “I don’t talk to people about him. You’re the one who can’t tell the government. You promised you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. They’ll hurt me.”

The government had no reason to hurt her, well, unless there was some traitor in the department who had ties to terrorists. Enzo couldn’t completely rule out that scenario.

“I won’t willingly say anything to headquarters.” He leaned his head back against the couch. “Don’t tell me anything else that could help find him. It’s better I didn’t know.”

She nodded, stood up, and took the first aid kit back down the hallway.

When she returned, she picked up her book and sat on the opposite couch. This time as she read, her hands trembled a bit, and she didn’t turn a page for a long time.

Apparently, her mind was no longer on the story.