Hero's Revenge (Keepers of Justice, Book 2)

Chapter One

 Revenge. It’s constantly on my mind.

Dressed in my black uniform and mask, I slip out of my room and take an elevator to the lobby of the League mansion.

I’m after blood.

X, my best friend Kale says in my head. Don’t do this.

There’s no hiding anything from him. Not since he became a telepath four months ago.

I try to block him out by thinking of random things, but it’s hard to stop my brain from wandering to that night. It’s all I think about.

I won’t forgive myself or move on. I should be starting to get over it. It was an accident, not my fault. No one blames me, but I blame myself. It’s because of the eyes I’ve got. They’re so sharp they can see through everything and long distances. They are more of a curse than a blessing. Sure I’ve managed to save lives with them, but they’ve also betrayed me.

The elevator doors open. I step out and head for the back exit. Kale’s at the door. “Don’t do this, please,” he repeats, his eyes pleading.

“I need to.”

I push past him and open the door. He sighs. I don’t need to be a telepath to know what he’s thinking. He’s worried, and I hate to be the cause. But I can’t help this feeling that’s consuming me.

We’re not the same, Kale and I. Not since our friend Stretch’s murder. He spends most of his time with his girlfriend, Lindsay, while I stay alone in my room, or out hunting the ShadowBlades. They’re my superhero league’s sworn enemy.

They are also the ones responsible for Stretch’s death.

Kale doesn’t utter another word. I slam the door after me and barge into the summer heat. It’s three in the afternoon. Practice was scheduled for one PM. Today wasn’t my first absence. School’s out for the summer, but we still have training every day. None of the other kids miss me. Except for Kale. The guy doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get me. He’s got his girl, his parents. He’s doing okay. He’s slowly moving on and is farther along in his recovery than I am. All I do is stare at the ceiling every night, wondering, hoping, blaming. I fight with myself. Replay each detail over and over, and think of the different outcomes of that night had I protected Stretch. Like I should have.

Each time, it ends the same way. And each time, I want to punch myself to death.

I steal a car from the garage and drive out of upstate New York toward Manhattan. I’m not headed anywhere specific, but villains always hang around at this hour. Vlayne, leader of the ShadowBlades, wouldn’t be outside, but her minions must be. I haven’t come across any yet—I’ve only been doing this for a month and a half—but I know I’m going to run into them at some point.

I’m after answers—where she escaped to, what is she planning. So far I haven’t had any luck.

After driving for a few hours, I enter Manhattan. Scanning my surroundings, I use my power to look through the non-residential buildings. I catch sight of three people dressed in costumes. They’re in an abandoned building less than a mile away. With my eyes, I see them clearly. A civilian is trapped in there with them. She’s pressed against the wall, her sleeves and pants held in place by daggers. Her lips quiver as terror enters her eyes. Blood drips from her body. The biggest guy is producing the daggers from his fingers while the other two laugh and taunt the woman.

Speeding up toward their location, I do a quick search for a sign of the ShadowBlade logo tattooed onto their skins. A curved silver blade cutting through the center of a black V. But I don’t see a thing. The guy with the daggers, who looks to be a few years older than me, has skeletons all over his body. But not the logo.