We walked for what felt like several hours, but the passage of time had become a foreign entity without the convenience of phones or even sunlight. Occasionally, I pestered Atticus about when he thought he might be able to use his shadows to transport us somewhere less bleak and smelling of mold. He never had answers beyond, "I'll let you know."
To stave off boredom, and because he knew I meant to interrogate him anyway, we traded questions throughout our journey, mine serious and his, more often than not, frivolous.
"Why didn't you teleport us farther away in the first place? Out of the city, perhaps?" I asked, to which he replied that these tunnels contained his closest emergency escape point to the Guild, and that I should feel lucky to have made it even this far, given how drained he'd been from holding over a dozen Supers at his mercy.
That answer was... annoying, if not understandable.
He considered his own question for a great many moments before settling on, "Do you have a dog, or a cat?"
I spun on my heel from my spot in front of him and continued to walk backwards. "You can't be serious. Don't you have anything more important to ask? My darkest secret? My default password? My social security number? Anything."
A half amused grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Dogs... or cats?"
Some people lacked sense. "What makes you so confident I have either?"
"There's no lint roller in existence that can pick up every trace of fur left on your clothes, unfortunately. I've noticed light colored stray hairs clinging to you on more than one occasion. Less so, recently."
No doubt because I moved into the Guildhall and hadn't been home as often. Not for the first time, I wasn't sure I cared for his powers of observation.
"Fine," I said, reluctantly stopping myself from gaslighting him for the sake of it. "You're right. I have a dog."
He nodded, as though the information could possibly interest him. "Your turn. And don't fall."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to-"
My heel caught on a damaged bit of track he no doubt foresaw and I careened backwards for only a few panic-filled seconds. Atticus waved a hand and set me to rights effortlessly before I had the chance to hit the ground, and although he hid it well, I thought he might have been a bit smug.
"I am not clumsy," I felt the need to clarify. "That was all Charlie's fault."
"Who's Charlie?"
"It's not your turn to ask a question, is it? You might have already had that answer, if you had not been so busy asking about my birthday and favorite color." I made a disgusted face. "Anyway, my turn. How did you come to steal the Constable's powers?"
"That's a far more boring story than I'm sure you're imagining."
"I don't care. It's my turn. Tell me anyway."
Sighing, he obliged, "I had just joined the Guild. You wouldn't know this, but if you join as a Super, you're placed into one of five categories. The flashy hero-types are, of course, the face of the Guild. They fight crime for the cameras, they do the press tours. That sort of thing. The next group is comprised of spies, and they exist out of the public eye, for obvious reasons. Then there are the one's with less flashy abilities that still allow them to aid the Guild undercover, like-"
"Mind reading," I said, thinking at once of Ren, and then Windless and her sister who could detect and alter people's emotions without the affected party realizing.
"Yes, exactly like Ren. He's been around the Guild awhile. Not the worst sort, considering who he works for. Our fourth group contains the jailers to the underground thaumaturge prison. And, finally, we have... the other side to our press relations. The Supers who fill in for villains when we have a shortage."
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Super•Villainous
Фентезі"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
