HERO

49 / The Mirror Cracked

The gathered children knew who had invaded their safe house. It was a knowledge not born of recognition, but of glaring certainty.

Yes, some empowered would gather together in gangs and raid or attack other people and properties, but this was Oscar's domain. The Fixer. He was too well connected and too useful to hurt, so was left alone to enjoy a vague untouchability that elevated his status above those around him. Besides, he was there with them. It was almost as if Oscar had invited them.

Tyler yelled something that was more noise than word, but its meaning was clear.

Attack!

His fellow children didn't reply to the cry, instead, leaping into action silently. A chunk of the wall opposite the destroyed one, and close to where a Chameleon hid, was pulled away and hurled towards the Spotters. Sharp barbs like a porcupine's flew through the air. Some children rushed forward to strike, others lifted into the air, moving forward with the swell of their brethren.

David smiled and nodded to Lloyd. The latter smiled back and stepped aside. As she moved, another Spotter, one Thomas didn't recognise, stepped forward and swung his arms in a wide circle before clapping his hands loudly.

The assault was halted abruptly as the children were pulled together by a force none of them could resist. They slammed into a crush of arms and legs, shouts of anger and grumbles of pain in the middle of the room.

"Thank you, Essex," said Lloyd. "Hold them there, if you would."

The man she'd called Essex nodded, not taking his eyes off the Fixer's cohorts. He locked his fingers and squashed his palms together tighter, bringing grunts from the children as their bodies were pushed together more.

David barely offered them a glance before turning in Thomas's direction. His eyes scanned the small group, saved, perhaps, by their inaction. They settled on Thomas for a moment, then grew wide when he saw Alex.

He strode forward.

"You're meant to be dead," he said.

Thomas was shocked to not be the recipient of such a comment. Yes, he was meant to be dead – or that was the intention. Dead at the hands of the man before him. A man he had hoped he wouldn't see again for some time, if at all. The Spotter's leader wasn't, however, addressing him.

"I'm alive and well, thank you," Alex said.

"I didn't expect to see you here. I..."

"You killed me yourself. Finish the sentence dad. You killed me yourself."

Alex's features rippled in anger and the shock on David's - Alex's father? - face became more pronounced. Thomas was used to, in his brief encounters with the Spotter, the man remaining calm. This was another side to him that Thomas hadn't expected. And David had killed his own child? Thomas felt a sudden kinship. They'd both been abandoned. At least Iain had handed him over and let someone else do the dirty work. David, it seemed, had carried it out himself, however unsuccessfully.

"OK. I admit it. I did. But I had no choice. I had to."

"Why?" Alex said, taking a defiant step forward. "Why did you have to?"

"You were a Nomad. It's the law. My job."

David's demeaning was crawling back under his control, the rocky weight of impassiveness sliding over his features with effort.

"Well, clearly I'm not a Nomad," Alex continued, ignoring his father's returning composure. "And clearly you're not as good as you think you are at your job."