I spun out of his grasp and clutched his arm in an aikido wristlock. I applied pressure, and he grunted and fell to the floor. Scar came at me with the needle, and I kicked it across the room, letting go of Goldie in the process. The two of them backed up, getting ready to attack. I shoved the table into them and went for the door again.

There was a flash of light, and I saw a blade plunging toward my arm. I drew back quickly but not quickly enough as the blade slashed the top of my wrist. Whatever my new powers were, pain suppression wasn’t one of them. Ouch!

The scientist sprouted a two-foot sword out of his right arm stump. Aw, shit, now he was going all supervillain on me. As he stood, I could see he was short and hunched—but he also moved fast.

He swung his sword arm, and I ducked, the blade taking a wedge out of the cinder block. I went for his elbow to try to hyperextend it, but he dropped low, and the palm of my hand hit the wall, crumbles falling to the floor. A few drops of blood from my slashed wrist followed.

I reeled back. My hand and arm hurt, but also: How was I doing what I was doing? How did I know an aikido wristlock?

Goldie and Scar remained positioned on the opposite side of the table from me, and the scientist stood in front of the door. As Goldie reached into his coat for something—a gun?—the scientist swung his sword down at me, like I was a log he was about to split. I dodged and gave him a low, vicious kick in the ankle. He let out a shriek—one that I had heard in my dreams—and I turned to lift the table off the floor and heave it into the two suits.

As the steel surface pinned both men to the wall, Goldie dropped his gun, and I pounced on it like a loose football. Just then I felt a sharp pain in my calf and let out a yelp.

I spun around to see the crazed scientist with arms raised high, about to bring the bloody sword down on me for a killing blow.

Everything went slow-motion—except me. I was moving at normal speed. I pointed the gun toward this monstrous murderer and fired.

Again.

And again.

CHAPTER 26

Maggie

ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER startling wake-up. This time it was a flurry of knocking on the front door that jarred me awake.

“Mom,” I groaned, spotting 4:30 a.m. on my digital clock, “it’s another twenty-four-whore emergency.” I rolled over, figuring she’d deal with this latest animal problem. What would it be now, a psychopathic parakeet?

Pound pound pound pound.

“Mom! Someone’s—damn it.” I looked over, and Mom’s bed was empty. Now I vaguely recalled that she’d left for another emergency call hours earlier, something involving wild dogs bearing down on a herd of sheep.