The Gifted

13 | Folie à deux

The question took him by surprise. He winced, and Anna snapped to keep him alert.

"Why would she tell the Enhanced about you but warn me not to go after you?" she asked. "Why would she give me your location and then protect you from me? And why did she leave you to die?"

Jack returned to being silent. Anna sighed, growing impatient, but she was hopeful. Even through his hollowness and the concussion-induced confusion, and the way he kept blinking and wincing, she was starting to read the questions on his face. And eventually, he asked again.

"What are you waiting for?" When Anna didn't answer, he kept going. "You got me. You succeeded. So—"

"You're right," Anna confessed, standing up. "I got you." She slowly walked toward him and circled his chair. "Killing you would certainly be a success as well as a great source of pride. And all it would take..."

She put her hands on his shoulders.

"Is a single touch."

Jack tensed under her grip. Anna smiled and squeezed, just a little, but she didn't take his Gift. She was behind him, so she couldn't see the face he made, but she didn't need to. Imagining it was pleasure enough. She made a gracious move of sliding her hands off his shoulders and returned to her chair.

"But Death said something interesting," she continued, sitting down and draping one leg over the other. "She said envy is more powerful than admiration. It makes me wonder if I've gone about this the wrong way. A selfish way. It makes me wonder if I should go back to that old childhood adage—what was it? Sharing is caring?"

It took Jack a minute to understand what she was getting at, and when he did, he looked more disgusted than afraid. It was kind of funny. He wasn't at all what she was expecting, but if she'd wanted him whole, she shouldn't have smashed a vase into his head. Twice. She wished she could talk to the man in the mirror, the one who swung an ax at her neck and told her to get lost. This guy was too tired. Too ready to give in. She may as well have killed him while he was unconscious if he was going to be this indifferent toward his imminent death.

Anna wagged her foot a bit, eyes narrowing slowly in consideration of the aforementioned adage. But ultimately, she shook her head.

"No." Anna stood. "You're mine."

And at the same moment she took her first step forward, the lights flickered. Anna froze, watching as the mirror on the wall swayed a bit on its support hooks.

"What was that?" she asked.

Jack looked sour. "Goddamn survival instinct," he muttered, and he looked up at her. "You talk too much, you know that? You're so fucking arrogant."

Anna blinked. "Well, yeah. But I think it's well-deserved, considering you're about to get murdered."

"I was ready to give in," he ranted. "Sure, you had help, but you got me. I was willing to accept that you would kill me. And I was tired. And delirious. I still am. But you talked too long, gave me too much time to get angry and come to my senses."

Anna raised an eyebrow. What good were his senses when he was tied up and probably concussed beyond sobriety? She only shrugged and stepped forward again, but the distance between them suddenly stretched out. What was once a few yards turned into a few dozen of them, and Anna almost fell backward from the momentum of the impossible movement.

"Play all the mind games you want," she said, steadying herself. "You're only delaying the inevitable."

"What," he said quietly, "makes you think this is only in your head?"