Wager's Price Read online

  “The drone is in your bag. Launch when you are ready. I’ll do the rest.” She winked an anime eye at him.

  He tapped his earpiece and her hologram disappeared.

  Vox leered at him in mock horror. “Be honest, Wager, are you or have you ever had a physical relationship with your artificial intelligence unit?”

  “No!” Finn made a vulgar gesture in Vox’s direction.

  “Then what’s with the cleavage and the figure and the… uh… tail?” Vox smirked.

  “She’s an AI unit. She can think for herself. I told her to choose a body, and after sifting through the entirety of online photos and videos, she chose to be a woman who looks like a cat. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Vox chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  “Seriously. I’ve spent a lot of time and my father’s money making HORU smart. I didn’t spend a dime making her beautiful or catlike. She did that herself.”

  “Would you like me to manifest myself as an old woman?” HORU said in his ear.

  “He’s not worth the trouble,” Finn whispered. “But do me a solid and wipe that video he took of me from his phone.”

  “Consider it done.” Her voice faded like a purr.

  Finn adjusted his pack on his shoulder and led the way across the football field to the back entrance of the school. Some things HORU could help with, others he had to do on his own. The locks on this door were the old-fashioned kind, only used by the equipment manager. A square of duct tape over the strike plate to keep the latch open and the door appeared locked. No way to tell the truth without pushing on the bar. It had taken a faked bloody nose for Finn to sneak down here, but the duct tape worked like a charm.

  The janitor left at midnight, but Finn crept into the demolished locker room anyway, hood up and carefully quiet, just in case. He motioned the others forward only when he was sure they were alone. When he reached the second-floor hallway, he removed his backpack and retrieved his trusty roll of duct tape once more.

  “What do you need that for?” Vox asked from the shadows of the stairwell.

  Finn pulled over a chair and stood atop it. He’d covered the security camera in silver strips in under thirty seconds. “In case the security system decides to wake up.” He jumped off the chair. “Vox and Jayden, you start pulling the desks out. Mike and I will do the balloons.”

  Jayden grinned and headed for the first classroom. “This is going to be classic!”

  Vox didn’t move. “I, ah, can’t lift anything because… well, I don’t want to. I have to do balloons.”

  Finn rolled his eyes behind his mask.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go help Jay,” Mike said. It was the only option. Finn wasn’t exactly the brawn of Deviant Joe. He wasn’t even sure he could lift a desk.

  Breaking out the balloons and the pump, Finn handed a pack to Vox. He opened it and stretched one red balloon between his fingers.

  “Where’s the pump Jayden was supposed to bring?”

  Vox shrugged. “Forgot.”

  Finn didn’t say another word. He got to work inflating balloons. Jayden and Mike came out with the first desk. The hallway was narrow and they placed it in the middle. Even with one pump, the space should fill up quickly. This was an old building, built before building codes, when extra-wide hallways meant more space to heat. He tied off a blue balloon, tossed it into the air, and tapped it toward the desk.

  As Finn reached for the next balloon, he paused, glancing at Vox. The older boy had dropped his unfilled balloon and now pinched a cigarette between his lips. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked the flame to life, and inhaled deeply.

  “Put it out,” Finn said. What a waste of space. He should have known. Vox wasn’t going to help at all. And now he had to keep the a-hole from starting the school on fire.

  “No.”

  While Finn and Vox locked stares, Mike and Jayden returned, hauling the second desk. Both dropped their cargo and glared at the cigarette incredulously.

  “Are you high?” Finn continued. “This school was built in 1898; everything is wood. There are smoke alarms everywhere. One of those goes off and we’re toast.”

  Mike stepped into Vox’s personal space with his hands on his hips. Big and broad, his physical presence was intimidating as hell. Vox’s eyes twitched wider, but he inhaled that cigarette without even giving Finn the benefit of a response. Mike pressed a finger into Vox’s chest. “If this goes south, it’s on you.”

  Jayden shifted silently in the background. Finn could tell by his expression he backed Mike, but he feared Vox too. He had to live with the guy. It is hard to stand up to crazy when crazy knows where you sleep.

  Sure Vox would cave under Mike’s steady stare, Finn casually inflated another balloon and set it free. But the tension between Vox and Mike only grew by the second, the situation made more surreal by the fact Finn, Mike, and Jay still wore the bulbous-nosed masks. He didn’t know how Vox could stand the pressure, those dark, pointed faces accusing him. But the guy just kept puffing away, filling the small space with the stench of cigarette smoke.

  Finn glanced up at the smoke alarm and then at the cloud billowing from Vox’s mouth. That was it. Something had to be done. Quick as he could, Finn snatched the cigarette from between Vox’s lips and crushed it out under his sneaker.

  It was not the best idea he’d ever had. Vox’s initially surprised expression morphed into rage. He landed a fist under Finn’s chin, knocking his mask askew and sending him windmilling backward. He landed squarely on his ass.

  Although Finn would’ve liked to pop off the floor and return blow for blow, it was a good minute before he could even catch his breath. He lay on the floor, head throbbing and lip bleeding. Deviant Joe had never resorted to violence before, and Finn cursed at Vox for ruining the prank. This was over. As soon as he could stand, he planned to leave.

  Mike wasn’t as forgiving. He removed his mask and grabbed Vox by the collar. “It’s on you.” A tan fist connected with Vox’s jaw, sending the guy reeling. But Mike didn’t stop there. He fisted Vox’s shirt to keep him from falling, then shoved him against the wall. Right, left, left, left, right. Vox’s head snapped on his neck and his lip sprayed blood.

  “Stop, Mike! Stop!” Jayden leaped onto Mike’s back in a vain attempt to protect his brother. All Finn could think, as a second spray of blood left Vox’s nose, was that Wyatt would have stopped this. He would’ve tapped the brakes like he always did. But this? This situation was out of control. Blood? Injuries? How would they explain this in the morning?

  “Mike!” Finn tried to get his buddy’s attention, to snap him out of it.

  “The choices we make have consequences,” a low, cool voice said.

  Everyone stopped. A stranger loomed at the threshold of the hall. Not one of the usual janitors. Not a teacher or administrator. A parent? The man was sophisticated, graying at the temples, wealthy. Someone important. The sweater he wore had a logo sewn in for a brand Finn’s dad wore occasionally—an expensive brand—and his watch flashed gold and diamond as he wrapped one hand around the back of Vox’s neck. Mike backed away, one step, then two, blood still dripping from his fists. A smile broke out across the stranger’s lips. Translation: gotcha.

  “It was a prank,” Mike said. “We’ll clean all of this up.”

  Jayden nodded. “It got out of hand. No harm done, though. Vox will be fine.”

  The man’s gaze, gunmetal gray, coasted to Finn. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “It’s only a few balloons.” Finn pushed himself off the floor. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth and it came away bloody.

  The man stared at the blood on Finn’s hand, then swept his gaze to Vox, whose nose still dripped blood. A muscle in the stranger’s jaw twitched. They were busted. Goose bumps freckled Finn’s arms, and his lips parted, but his voice caught in his throat. Oddly, he was afraid to ask who the man was. Why? He couldn’t be sure.

  Those gray eyes fixed on Finn. “You
can always tell the ones with potential—they don’t leave their toys in their boxes.” The man’s teeth flashed.

  “What?” Finn glanced at Mike, but the big guy was similarly befuddled.

  The man reached into Vox’s pocket and retrieved the guy’s lighter. Vox barely flinched. Whether from fear or shock, Jayden’s brother looked catatonic. His nose continued to drip blood, but he didn’t wipe it away. Maybe Mike had hit him too hard. Maybe he was having some kind of a fit.

  “Who are you?” Finn forced himself to ask, pushing aside his unease.

  The stranger shook his head, eyes blinking slowly. “A model citizen looking out for the needs of my community.” The man flicked the lighter and a flame appeared near his thumb.

  Worming anxiety took root in Finn’s stomach, beyond the getting-caught kind. It was hard to breathe. The stranger oozed malice. Why hadn’t he threatened to call the police or their parents? Unless his intentions were far more sinister.

  The stranger lifted the lighter.

  Whoosh. The flame billowed to the ceiling, catching the woodwork and licking up the walls.

  “Run!” Mike yelled. He grabbed Jayden by his hood and yanked him toward the door.

  “My brother!” Jayden struggled against Mike’s grip.

  Finn moved for Vox, intending to drag Jayden’s brother away from the stranger. But before Finn could reach the boy’s pale hand, the flames bloomed, dividing the hall in two. Now, no one could reach Vox without burning to a crisp.

  For an agonizing moment, Finn stared the stranger down, the heat baking his face. The fire alarm wailed. The man would have to move soon. The fire must feel as hot to him as it did to Finn. But he didn’t. The stranger stood in the fire, flames closing in, and winked at Finn, a wicked smile spreading from ear to ear. A psycho. A suicidal maniac.

  Mike grabbed Finn’s upper arm. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Come on!” He dragged him to the stairwell, through the locker room, and out onto the frosty turf of the football field. Finn removed the duct tape as he passed through the door, more reflexively than out of careful thought. By the time they’d made it to the fence, the flames were visible through the third-floor hallway windows. In the distance, a fire truck’s horn accompanied police sirens.

  “Should we run?” Finn asked Mike.

  The big guy didn’t answer. His eyes were wet. Jayden rested his hands on his knees. “Vox! Oh God, Vox!”

  Jayden lurched toward the school again, but Mike grabbed his arms and held him back. “There’s nothing you can do. We tried. We all tried. We need help.” Mike’s eyes flashed to Finn’s. He was speaking to both of them.

  There was no covering this up. No way out. The school was burning down. It hit Finn then, full force. Vox might already be dead. Murdered. He dropped his backpack and waited helplessly as the swirling lights closed in.

  2

  Paris, Illinois

  Hope Laudner zipped her skirt and jammed her foot into one of her pristine white shoes. Most of the other girls were already gathered in the corner of the Paris High School gym, waiting to begin their dance squad’s halftime show. It wasn’t her fault she was late. Her father’s truck had died on the way into town. Why her dad insisted on driving that corroded robin’s egg-blue monstrosity was beyond her. Honestly, it made her blood boil. The thing was almost thirty years old.

  Asking her mother for a ride was out of the question. Malini Gupta Laudner was a semifamous journalist with her own show on CNBC, and today, she was in Saudi Arabia interviewing some woman who was the first leader of something. Hope couldn’t remember.

  Three months and she’d turn sixteen and be able to drive herself. She couldn’t wait.

  She finished with her shoes and flipped up her head to fasten the bow over her auburn ponytail. “Holy Chr…istmas! What are you doing here?”

  The man standing behind her had spiky black hair, blue eyes, and an internal glow to rival the LED lightbulb above her head. He also had two mighty wings that arched and twitched over his shoulders and smelled uniquely of sunshine and citrus. The good news: he wasn’t a stalker. The bad news: he was annoying as hell.

  “I have a message for you.” His stubbled chin was tight with perpetual concern.

  Hope lowered her voice. “This is the girls’ locker room, Gabriel. You can’t just pop in here.”

  “No one can see me but you. This is important.”

  “Important or not, it’ll have to wait. I’m on.” She grabbed her pompoms and headed for the gym.

  “Souls are missing, Hope. Henry needs you to investigate. And now He is involved.” Henry was Death, as in the Grim Reaper, an immortal in charge of ushering the dead into eternal life. He was big “H” he. The Big Good, God, the Alpha and Omega, I Am, or whatever else people called Him these days. Hope had no doubt that if both were concerned, the situation was serious. That didn’t mean she was willing to get involved. She had her own life, her own problems. And she sincerely doubted that two immortal beings needed her for anything.

  “He’s an all-powerful being,” she said. “Tell him to snap his fingers and figure it out.”

  “Hope!” The look of horror and offense on the angel’s face made her take pause.

  “Ugh! I’m sorry, all right? I don’t have time for this right now. I have our performance, and then I have to study for my calculus exam. And I had to run a mile to get here in the freezing cold because my dad’s truck broke down. And I have menstrual cramps if you must know.”

  Gabriel cringed. He hated when she talked about female issues. She smirked in response and headed for the rest of her team. He followed.

  “Someone or something is reaping human souls. You are the last Soulkeeper, the Healer. This is your job—”

  “Stop!” She held out her hand. “I told you. I can’t talk to you about this now.”

  His wings flexed in annoyance.

  She rolled her eyes. “Meet me at my window at midnight. I’ll be ready to listen.” He opened his mouth but she didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. She jogged from the locker room to join her teammates, fists pumping in the air.

  “Go, Wildcats!” She cartwheeled into a flip-flop, landing a full twisting layout and then executing a perfect toe touch. The crowd went wild. She shook her poms in the air and gave the bleachers her widest smile.

  The other girls took their positions around Hope, who formed the point of a triangle at the center of the gym. The music throbbed and she popped into action. She kicked, leaped, and tumbled, concentrating on synchronizing with the other girls, rather than doing her best. As a Soulkeeper, she could naturally run faster and jump higher than a normal human girl. In fact, she could flip and tumble better than anyone alive. She was born with physical dexterity that far exceeded her teammates’. Her rhythm, though, that was exceptional thanks to hours of practice. Hope stomped and shook her hips like a pop star, the music carrying her through move after move. By the time her squad hit their last beat, every person, student or adult, was on their feet. The entire Paris High School gym rumbled with applause.

  If not for her keen vision, Hope might have missed the two state troopers who silently slipped into the gym through the side doors. But as she jogged toward the locker room with her teammates, their brown uniforms were unmistakable. A man and a woman closed in on her, the woman’s hand hovering near her gun. The man gently cupped her elbow and pulled her aside, ushering her into the hall outside the gym.

  “Hope Laudner?” the man asked, his eyes narrowing on her.

  “Yes?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Why is it always the pretty ones?” he mumbled.

  “What’s the problem?” she asked.

  He gave her a disappointed grunt. “You need to come with us.”

  3

  Trials and Tribulations

  If I’m going to represent you, you need to tell me the absolute truth.” Finn’s father leaned against the window of his home office, tie fastened firmly, his demeanor at odds with his surroundi
ngs. Despite standing only a few steps from their kitchen, James Wager, Esquire had replaced Dad or Pop or even Mr. Wager. The older man didn’t look happy, but he did look lawyerly.

  “I told you the truth. I told you everything.”

  “You keep saying that, Finn, but your stories don’t match up.”

  “Stories?”

  “The police interviewed you, Jayden, and Michael separately, and all of you said exactly the same thing, aside from one very significant factor.”

  “What factor was that?”

  He gave Finn a look that suggested he should know. He didn’t.

  His dad sighed. “Each of you described a stranger who started the fire. The only problem is, you each described a different stranger.”

  “Huh?” Finn straightened in his seat.

  “You claim you saw a wealthy, dark-haired man with graying temples—a man of average stature. Jayden says the stranger was a tall, dark-skinned man with no hair and casual, urban clothing. Mike swore he saw a woman with a pixie cut and a large, squared jaw. Now, obviously you are all lying. The question is why.”

  “I-I don’t understand.” Finn held his head. “I’m telling the truth. That’s who I saw.” Why would Mike and Jay lie?

  “Stop, Finn.” His father rested his hands on the desk. “Vox woke up today.”

  Vox’s injuries required hospitalization for third-degree burns and smoke inhalation. He’d been unconscious for days. Everyone worried he’d never wake from the resulting coma. As relieved as Finn was concerning his recovery, he couldn’t imagine what Vox might have said about the stranger to anger his father.

  “He told us what happened. He admitted to starting the fire and said you tried to stop him. There’s no need to protect him anymore.”

  Finn opened his mouth to insist he hadn’t lied, but the words caught in his throat. What had happened the night of the fire? The facts blurred and faded like he was trying to remember a dream. Was the stranger a figment of his imagination? He tried to picture what happened in his head. Vox gripping the cigarette in his mouth. No, that was earlier, wasn’t it? The red plastic lighter. Who was holding it? The man’s features wavered in Finn’s memory, and he couldn’t be sure. He questioned everything he thought he remembered.