Cute Mutants Vol 4 by SJ Whitby

Author:SJ Whitby [Whitby, SJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SJ Whitby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

None of us wake up for a whole twenty-four hours, thanks to the aftereffects of whatever the hell Emma does to boost us. It’s probably good we’re out of it, because while we sleep, Westhaven argues. When we end up back in the Council chambers, fed and rested, most of the decisions have been made. I’m not sure where the other half of the Cute Mutants are. Maybe they’re off on their own mission. For now, it’s only us, standing in front of our wonderful team leader, fucking Amethyst.

“Jumper confirms your story.” His voice has only the slightest trace of sarcasm. “It seems almost impossibly fortuitous.”

Dani smirks. “Maybe one of us has luck powers and doesn’t know it.”

“Perhaps.” Amethyst’s lips purse. “It’s far more likely you’re all lying. In your favour, the media have dropped the story rather quickly. Daintree has denied any involvement, and called the video an example of how sophisticated fake news is. An entirely different company with no ties to Daintree reported an explosive accident at a manufacturing plant at that location.”

“Glad it worked out, boss.” I give him a salute—not that I really know how—and Amethyst shoots me a look much sharper than his usual bland expression. It takes me by surprise, and I stare back at him for a moment.

“I have nothing further to say, Chatterbox. You are dismissed.” He gets to his feet and stalks out of the room. I feel like I’ve been given a clue to something, but I don’t know what, so we all head out together.

“Did you see that look?” I ask.

“He thinks you’re a smartass.” Alyse grins at me. “I have no idea where he came up with that.”

“People always think that.” I mock-frown. “I must give off a vibe or something?”

“Or something.” Alyse links her arm through mine. “I still remember you as this shy, angry person and now...”

“Yes?”

“You’re a confident, angry person.” She bursts out laughing. “It’s a good look on you.”

It takes me by surprise, to hear me described like that. Not angry, because there’s so much shit to be furious about, but confident? It doesn’t seem right. I do keep shoving myself places and doing things without thinking. That can’t be what confidence is, surely.

“Alyse,” I begin, ready to enter into a terrible philosophical discussion of confidence, but we’ve arrived in a large gathering chamber where we’re greeted by a wave of cheers and applause.

“What the fuck?” I murmur.

The room is full of people. I don’t recognise anyone until a buff Samoan dude with a moustache steps forward and shakes my hand vigorously.

“It’s you, Chatterbox! You woke me up with a sword, shouting about a bomb.”

“Oh shit. You’re all the people from the camp.”

He laughs uproariously. “Of course! We owe you—”

He’s interrupted by a surprising figure. It’s Metron, even more fine-boned and disturbingly frail.

“At last.” His voice is low and intense. “Goddess, I must speak with you.”

“Hold up.” Alyse interposes herself between them. “Last time, you got yourself knocked out for days.”

“That is unimportant.

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