The Secret World Chronicles by Mercedes Lackey

Author:Mercedes Lackey [Lackey, Mercedes]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mercedes Lackey, superheroes, World War Two, Nazis

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The Echo craft was eerily silent. There was no roar of jet engines outside the fuselage, which made the sullen quietude inside the craft that much more unnerving. There were only four sets of seats here, as the rest of the craft was given over to cargo space—two sets of two on either side of a narrow aisle, facing each other. The Red Djinni had the left hand four all to himself; he had jammed himself into the corner of the window seat on the front-facing bulkhead and brooded, legs thrust aggressively out into the space between the seats, effectively taking up as much of the space as possible. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had not once removed his signature scarf, so all that could be seen of his face were his eyes, glaring sullenly. Bulwark and Vickie perforce had the other four seats. He took the front-facing pair, she got stuck with the rear-facing ones. Then again, motion-sickness was the least of her worries. The way that the Djinni was glaring at her, you would have thought that she had mortally insulted him. And as for Bulwark, he had gone even more reserved, if that was possible. She still couldn't figure out what she had done to either of them to make them act this way.

"This meta we're after—Tomb—" she said, finally, just to break the silence. "Why is he called that?"

Bulwark smirked. "You ought to ask Djinni about that. He's the one that worked with the man."

The Djinni grunted. Bulwark gave him a sardonic glance. "Be nice. Tell the lady."

"She's your pigeon. You tell her."

Bulwark rolled his eyes. "You know how it is. A lot of metas like their nicknames or aliases to be bad puns on their powers. His real last name is Stone, and he plays dead."

Her brow creased, but Djinni interrupted impatiently. "He doesn't just play dead, he is dead. No pulse, no breathing, uses no oxygen, the whole nine yards. You can seal him inside an airtight container, fold him up however you want him before he stiffens up, and ship him inside any place you want to get into. Then when you're ready, he comes back to life and lets you in."

She felt her eyes widen. "A self-induced hibernation without a cryogenic chamber?"

The Djinni shrugged. "Damned if I know. He always said he was dead. He didn't bleed either. You could stab him and he wouldn't feel it, or bleed more than a couple drops. The only thing he didn't do that a dead man would was rot."

"But how did he know when to wake up?" Of all the strange metahuman powers she had ever heard of, this was one of the strangest. But she could think of a thousand ways he could be useful...and certainly he must have been invaluable to a professional thief.

"Beats me. He would only say ‘the loas tell me,' whatever the hell that means."

She blinked, her ever-present fear ebbing with something this fascinating to think about.

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