Mendez's boots splashed through a puddle as he rounded the corner. The dim construction lights threw broken shadows across the crumpled bodies of Gamariel and Troy.
"What the hell happened to you two?" he barked.
Troy tried to answer, but only a wet rattle escaped his throat. His right leg lay at a sick angle. Matthew's nerve strike had shut the limb down like a tripped breaker. Gamariel clutched his useless arm, crimson energy still leaking out in sputters that looked disturbingly like smoke.
Mendez swore under his breath. A moment later, the sedan's rear door opened, and the Conduit stepped out.
Everyone in Nexian circles knew him only as Bleu—a lean figure in a slate-gray coat, eyes glowing faint electric blue even in the gloom. Static danced across his knuckles in lazy arcs.
Bleu surveyed the scene, lips curling.
"Two Shapers flattened by a Reader?" His voice was calm, almost curious. "What did I tell you about underestimating intel?"
