Balance - Book 2 by Marc Dickason

  *****

  Benny entered the room a short time later; hands in pockets and a relaxed smile on his face. One might assume he was returning from a particularly vigorous party.

  “Jet, how are you?” he asked, letting himself in.

  “Okay,” I replied, pulling on my blazer and fastening the buttons. “Would be lying if I said my head wasn’t still ringing.”

  “Yes. Ribs hurt a bit. That Goddamned demon of Selena’s is like greased lightening.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “And you thought being an Enforcer was going to be a walk in the park, huh?”

  “She tore apart an entire squad of Enforcers, Benny. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.”

  “I wouldn’t either,” he said, crossing the room and lowering slowly into a chair. “Just goes to show; dedicated law abiding citizen or dedicated criminal, Selena gives her all. Guess that’s what makes her who she is.”

  “Right.” I pulled on a boot and started doing up the laces. “Kind of wish she would throw some of that dedication into fixing world hunger. Or finding a cure for Cancer. Or something other then a big red bull’s-eye on our chests. Christ, I would settle for her perfecting a better washing detergent at this point.”

  He chuckled. The moment slipped into a silence. From somewhere outside came the blare of passing Enforcer sirens.

  “They want me to help bring in Judy Carlson,” I said, pulling on the other boot. “Girl who went ballistic and blew up the Manipulation and Influence hall.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “God, the Universe really hates you, doesn’t it?”

  “Apparently so.”

  He chuckled again. “Well, maybe you’ll be done in before Selena can find us.”

  “Excellent. With her schedule free we’ll have that washing detergent next week Tuesday.”

  His chuckle developed into a full fledged laugh and I was taken along for the ride. The laughter grew, both of us acknowledging the humour was misplaced, and soon we were hooting with cackles of tear inducing hysterics.

  When at last it died down we trailed back into silence, wiping away tears.

  “Tell me you didn’t do that,” he said, voice completely impartial.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “The hall. Tell me you didn’t do that.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Are you asking me if I blew up the hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus, Benny. Are you serious?”

  The pendulum swung so quickly from laughter to suffocating tension it must have broken the sound barrier.

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “No,” I snapped, unsure how a defensive tone had crept into my voice, “It was the girl, for God’s sake. How can you even think…?”

  “Ah,” he nodded, “Just asking. Insights on what set her off?’

  “I’m not sure. I saw the white wall. In Judy.”

  “You saw it in Judy?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how…?” His eyes glazed. “Holy shit. Judy Carlson was also dominated by your mother at some point. How did you get assigned Judy as your test patient?”

  “Just was.”

  “I seriously doubt that. I’ll look into it.” He looked at me, realisation dawning. “Judy was a bomb. Did your mother just try and… kill you? Would she do that…?”

  “Maybe. It crossed my mind.” I shook my head. “But…”

  “There are easier ways to kill a person. Yes.”

  I hesitated. “She’ll be going there now, wont she? Judy Carlson. She’ll be going to the white wall.”

  “Most likely.” His head shot up. “This is not something you screw around with, Jet. You do this right.”

  “I know. Of course.”

  “You’re an Acting Enforcer now. You behave like one.”

  For a long moment we stared at each other. Tension drained from his face.

  “Good luck. You’re in the big leagues now. Serve the people and keep back the chaos. That’s your job now.”