"I was remembering coming into the Strand scared and full of the lies they tell about us."
Jason chuckled. "I was terrified they were going to cut my balls off."
That got her to smile. "That most throws have families didn't mean anything to you?" she said, and he put both hands on the wheel.
"It's easier to believe the scary stuff."
Grace's smile faded. "He reminds me too much of me," she said with a sigh. The gravel pit swung into view, abandoned and holding green water.
"I know. What are you going to do, Grace?"
Grace tightened her watchband. "My job."
"Fine, throw your career away," he said, jaw tight as he turned to the silent cutting building. There were three dented, late-model cars already there. Tall grass grew up next to the three-story building, broken mortar and graffiti marring its surface. "Still want me to stay in the car?" he asked as he swung around and parked so that he had a clear shot out the only entrance.
Grace listened to the car's engine tick as it cooled. Hoc sat up on the seat, his ears pricked. The wind brushed her face to bring a clay smell to her. Saying nothing, she got out, slapping her thigh to bring Hoc to her. Three cars could hold a lot of angry friends. "No."
"Good."
She jumped when Jason slammed his door, and she pushed her own door shut hard in a show of bravado. A face showed and vanished at a dusty second-story window, and her pulse thudded. Jason was looking up at it, squinting before he reached back in the car and put his cap on. It turned him from a good old boy to a cop. Doubt slithered through her. She was not going to kid herself that the Strand chose their collectors solely on ability. She was good at her job because she and Boyd looked harmless. Jason had attitude, and it wouldn't mix with whatever was in that building.
"Jason . . ."
He jerked, and they both turned at the sound of grit scraping. Zach was standing at the door, three young men his age behind him. Frowning, Grace pushed Jason out of her mind. Forcing her shoulders down, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and told Hoc to stay.
"Your mom told me where you were," she said as she came forward, hoping Jason didn't move from beside the car's front door. "I just want to talk."
Jason snorted. "That ought to do it, Grace."
Scowling, and she remembered why she'd requested not to work with him. "She's worried about you, Zach," she said, stopping ten feet before him. "She has every right to be. I've been exactly where you are right now. I know you're scared."
It was the wrong thing to say, and the electrical balance in the air shifted as Zach's expression turned ugly. "Get the hell out of here!" he shouted, gesturing, and Jason jerked his hand off the roof of the car. The smell of burning rubber rose up, and Hoc whined, feeling the large disturbance. "I'm not scared of you!" Zach exclaimed.
Grace stifled a jerk when the headlamps exploded in a superheated burst. It was hard to learn how to throw energy, but the car was a big sink, and she wasn't as impressed as his friends, hooting and giving each other high fives behind him. The outflow had the sharp feel of caffeine, and her doubt grew.
"Then come out and talk to me, big man," she taunted, drawing on four years of dealing with scared adolescents who thought they knew everything.
Behind her, Jason leaned against the car to ground it through the metal in his trousers and the metallic toe clip on his shoes. "Okay," he said as he squinted up at the sun. "I take it back. You're pretty good at this."
Grace's smile lasted all of three seconds as Zach pushed his way into the parking lot, the three guys swaggering out behind him. One had a pipe, the other a pool stick, the third, a length of chain that he dramatically wrapped around his fist. Zach's hands looked stiff-not good.
"Ah . . ." Jason pushed up from the car, immediately becoming a threat.
Grace motioned Hoc to stand down. Four against three. Not bad odds. Part of her job was to scare a potential initiate into a last desperate act to evaluate them at their worst. Zach wasn't there yet, but he was close. She had to get him alone. "You and Hoc get the norms, I'll get the throw."
"Okay." His voice was unsure, and she smiled. He was worried about her. Perhaps working with him-just this last time-might be just the thing to get him to grow up.
Focusing on Zach, Grace pushed the sight of the three angry men behind him out of her thoughts. Zach was looking at Hoc, a whisper of doubt marring his teenage superiority complex. "I started his heart back up," she said, dropping her hand onto the dog's head. "He never even knew he was down. My partner is okay, too. Just taking a few days off. It's okay, Zach. All the best operatives run. There's a place for you, if you'd relax and listen."
As she expected, Jason edged away from her, mirroring the three guys looking eager for a fight. Zach was left alone, and he cocked his hip. "You ran?" he said in disbelief, shaking his too-long hair out of his eyes.
"Across four state lines," Jason offered, shifting his weight to find his balance. He was itching for a fight, and Grace wondered if she should have told him to take it easy on the three guys. "Taking her down shut off six square miles of grid."
Grace flushed. "It was three state lines," she muttered. "Zach, give me a chance."
The kid flicked his eyes over the dusty car, then his buddies. "It's just the two of you?" he said, discounting Hoc completely.
A tingle of adrenaline went through her. He wasn't going to make this easy. She would have to play this all the way to the end.
"Mistake," the guy with the pipe said, smiling stupidly, and his buddies laughed.
The thin tracing of energy from Zach prickled along her soul. Deflecting it into the car, she leisurely came forward as Jason dramatically gestured for the norms to come at him. Unaware that she'd shifted his focus, Zach sent a blast of heat through his trace. Behind her, the car's electrical system shorted out in a flash of sparks. Used to it, Hoc still cowered. Zach froze, shocked, and Grace shook her head.
"You're good," she said, focused on him. "Got a lot to learn, though."
Jason grunted. Just within her peripheral sight, she saw the three go at Jason in a seemingly unfair fight. Pipe high over his head, one came at him, screaming. Jason sidestepped him, touching the back of his neck in passing. Grace's field shivered, and the man dropped, out cold. Seeing him down, the guy with the chain yelled and came forward, only to get Jason's shoe in his gut-the Strand's martial arts training standing him in good stead. The third man with the pool stick was harder, and Jason spun in an elegant turn, blocking the man's first strike and downing him with an electric-supported jab to the kidneys.