Greed: A Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 2) Read online

  Greed

  A Deadly Seven Novel

  Lana Pecherczyk

  Prism Press, Perth Australia.

  Copyright © 2019 Lana Pecherczyk

  All rights reserved.

  This is an uncorrected proof and in no circumstances should be resold, distributed, or copied. Any material quoted from this proof should be checked against the finished book or with the publisher. Publication date and price are provisional and may change.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © Lana Pecherczyk 2019

  Cover design © Lana Pecherczyk 2019

  www.lanapecherczyk.com

  Contents

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Characters & Glossary

  Also by Lana Pecherczyk

  About the Author

  CARDINAL CITY MAP

  "To greed, all nature is insufficient."

  Seneca

  Chapter One

  In the light of a full moon, Cardinal City glowed softly under a blanket of white dust. Griffin Lazarus slipped on a roof tile, cursing when a clump of snow thudded with a powdery explosion three levels below.

  “This isn’t stealth.” His voice modifier made his speech deep and gravelly.

  His brother Evan crashed onto the roof beside him, narrowly missing the ledge. “Stealth is my middle name.”

  “You don’t have a middle name.”

  The chuckle they shared was short lived as the cold, frigid air seeped through their clothes. They wore identical black leather pants, hooded jacket, and fukumen face-scarves covering their noses and mouths. Except where Griffin’s scarf was blue, Evan’s was green.

  Evan jumped to a jutting rooftop a level down, slipped and almost toppled over the edge. In a flash, he unsheathed his twin Katanas and used them like trekking poles, stabbing onto surfaces as he moved until he hopped to another ledge below, and finally down to the cobbled laneway.

  Griffin winced. So noisy in the quiet night.

  He pulled his baton from his back brace and activated the spring lever with a well-trained flick of his wrist. In an instant, each side of the baton lengthened with a metallic shing. The staff, now body length, was stronger than titanium and as flexible as ash wood. Griffin popped a button and a spike shot out of the end to jab through the snow at his feet. A muted thud sounded. Yes. Sturdy. Good grip. Less noise than the Katanas.

  Before he went down, he pulled back his sleeve to check the status of the Yin-Yang tattoo on his inner wrist. The special ink reacted to his response to sensing greed. In short, the more greed he felt, the blacker the ink became, darkening the entire symbol in ink. Too much black and he was in danger of losing control and killing any greed signature he sensed in his proximity—any. It was a chaotic, deadly urge he never wanted to repeat. Using his wristwatch, he’d learned that timed exposure to sin or virtue had a sliding scale response on his tattoo ink. Seeing he was about to foil a robbery, he’d be curious to see which way the act tipped the balance—toward dark, or light.

  After noting his tattoo’s current status, he laboriously set the timer on his watch, tongue touching the tip of his teeth until he got the correct setting. Once satisfied he was recording, he took a deep breath and vaulted down to the ledge, and then to the next until he landed swiftly and silently next to his brother.

  “About time. I’m freezing my nuts off.” Evan used his Katanas to gesture around his general crotch area.

  “Maybe you should have worn thermals,” Griffin ground out.

  A masculine chuckle came through Griffin’s ear piece, reminding him that his brother Parker monitored their progress. Technically, Sloan should have been providing tech support… or at least their father Flint, but neither were available tonight.

  Evan touched his earpiece. “ETA, Pride?”

  When in the field, they had to address each other as their sin’s code-name to avoid their true identities being exposed.

  “I can’t triangulate a location. I need more information. Greed?” Parker said through the earpiece.

  “I told you, the sensation keeps moving. And we keep moving,” Griffin replied, miffed.

  “So stop and focus.”

  He clenched his jaw at Parker’s authoritative tone. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and forced all street noise from his mind. The feat was an effort for him, more so than any of his brothers. Sounds seemed to drill into his bones, teasing him until they irritated, but the brutal training he’d received during his youth had also been drilled into his bones.

  His breathing deepened, and his heart slowed. The hoot of the owl became a breeze, his brother’s heavy puffing became a whisper, and the distant sirens became a memory. He inhaled deeply and focused on the sense of sin causing his gut to wrench. Greed coated the city like a toxic film, slowly suffocating it.

  But he was after the strongest, the most grimy, the—

  A cold, hard projectile hit Griffin in the face, along with a burst of gravelly laughter. Griffin tried to shake it off, and refocus, but the cold hit had shocked him out of his meditation. His knuckles whitened on his bo-staff. His teeth clenched. Every nerve in his body screamed as rage took over, and bloody memories flashed before his eyes. Broken bodies lying in the dirt. White bones poking through red flesh. Blood on his hands… Soldiers screaming for him to stand down. Stand down. Stand down!

  He opened his eyes to find Evan packing another snowball, glee sparkling in his eyes.

  Bile burned the back of Griffin’s throat as he forced the bad memories to fade.

  Not tonight. Not now. He was in control now. Nothing like back then.

  A second snowball hurtled at his face and he deflected with his bo-staff, exploding the ice into white powder.

  “What the hell?” Griffin growled, trembling with restrained violence, twitching with the need to inflict pain.

  Evan shrugged. “I’m not used to feeling cold. Need to warm up. Plus, you’re too uptight. We’re not going to find the source of greed unless you loosen up.”

  “You sound like Lust.” Were his family conspiring behind his back?

  “Yeah, well, Lust’s got a point.” Evan sniffed and looked away, as if that dismissed the conversation.

  Griffin kicked the bottom of his staff out and thrust it at Evan’s face. Milliseconds before he struck, air crackled with electricity, and Evan dodged to the side. The staff whacked the brick wall, echoing through the dark alley. Damn Evan, using his ability to predict a
nd dodge the blow.

  Evan scowled. “Don’t start something you can’t win, bro.”

  Griffin struck again, flipping the staff, striking with the opposite end.

  Evan caught it an inch from his face, eyes narrowing. His tone slid to ice. “Last warning.”

  Griffin yanked on the rod, but Evan wouldn’t release.

  “I dare you,” Griffin shoved.

  “You have a death wish.”

  Death would be too kind for someone like Griffin.

  “What the hell is going on?” Parker’s voice broke through.

  “Greed’s having a dummy spit because I told him to loosen up,” Evan said.

  “You don’t want to see me unravel, brother,” Griffin growled.

  Electricity visibly crackled over Evan’s hand as it hovered near the staff threateningly. “Maybe I do.”

  Evan and Griffin stared off in a battle of wills.

  Griffin could almost hear the question behind his brother’s eyes. It was the same question the family asked in hushed tones when they didn’t think Griffin was listening.

  What happened over there?

  What happened during Griffin’s combat training to make him the vicious, uptight fighter he was today? Or perhaps they already knew, and that’s why they tip-toed around him. They were all created in the same lab to sense evil. All born as the enhanced beings they were today. All forced into a life of combat training and educated in the deadly arts. Except where they all came out of it unscathed, Griffin had been pushed to the limits. Captured during training and tortured. He’d lost control.

  Never again.

  “Greed?” Parker prompted.

  “That way.” Griffin pointed to the alley exit.

  “No shit, Sherlock. It’s the only way out,” Evan grumbled.

  Griffin wanted to thrust the staff back in his face but a sharp twinge of gut pain had him suddenly doubled over. The metal staff dropped. He clutched his middle.

  Evan’s hand shot out to steady him. “You okay, bro?”

  “Yea—” a pained breath burst out. “Greed.”

  Bad. The sense was so powerful, he could only deduce a deadly crime was about to happen.

  “Got it.” Evan powered up, fists sparking. He sent a furtive glance down the alley.

  The sound of glass breaking and hushed voices cut through the silent night, reminding Griffin that they hadn’t exactly been quiet themselves. Anyone could be watching, or listening.

  Evan caught Griffin’s gaze. “You good?”

  He pushed the ugly sensation of sin down and then reset the timer on his wristwatch. Fighting Evan had contaminated his experiment. Wristwatch set. Tattoo status checked. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

  “Hostiles at the east alley exit,” Evan murmured, directing his words at Parker on the comms. He crept forward.

  “Roger that. Accessing street cameras now.”

  Moving as one, Griffin and Evan entered a cobbled retail courtyard and assessed their location. They were within the Quadrant—a popular cultural area of the city split into four districts: art, retail, food and entertainment dispersed with apartment living. Smack bang in the middle was a burglary in full swing.

  Griffin sent his awareness into the jewelry store, sensing the number of greedy sin-signatures.

  He held up three fingers, waggling two toward the back of the store, and one toward the front. Three perpetrators.

  Evan gestured that he’d take the two, but Griffin mentally wrestled with the options. If he let Evan take the bigger battle, hence having the most fun, it could be perceived as generosity. Although, depending on the point of view, it could also signify Evan was taking the bigger risk, thus making Griffin greedy to remain safe. Once he started thinking down that path, he realized there were too many variables to predict. There was no way of knowing until after the fact. Either way, his bio-indicated tattoo would lighten or darken, marking Griffin unbalanced. The important thing was he timed the act, and recorded which direction his tattoo went, then his equilibrium was easy to rectify.

  He indicated he would enter first.

  Evan rolled his eyes and entered anyway.

  A cry of amazement came from inside as Evan bypassed the thug on lookout and disappeared out back, no doubt where the safe was. As the panicked lookout tried to escape, Griffin clotheslined him across the throat. The man fell back and skidded across the floor, weapon flying under a cabinet. He groaned and attempted to move, but Griffin pushed him down with his bo-staff.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Griffin pulled a cable tie from his belt. He secured the man’s wrists then said to Parker: “One down.”

  “Copy,” Parker replied. “Now backup Envy.”

  Griffin hesitated. He revealed his wrist tattoo. Damn. Too much white and it had only been four minutes. He clicked his tongue and reset his timer. He should’ve gone first like his gut told him. Now he was faced with another multitude of options on rectifying the imbalance, and he had no data to support actions relating to this specific incident. Would backing up Evan be considered greedy, or generous? It all depended on whether Evan wanted backup or not.

  “Greed. You copy?”

  Griffin touched his earpiece. “Yes, I copy.”

  “Go help Envy.”

  Two perpetrators were well within the scope of Evan’s skill-set. Considering Griffin’s tattoo was tipped toward the white, he’d make better use of his time by committing a greedy act to put him back toward balance.

  “Negative. I’m heading home.”

  Parker argued but Griffin ignored him. He retracted his staff and secured it to his back brace. The voice in his ear became demanding, so Griffin pulled the earpiece out and left the store, swiping some costume jewelry from a rack as he went.

  Chapter Two

  When Griffin returned home to Lazarus House, he entered through the secret back alley entrance of the basement headquarters. Above and reaching into the sky was a multi-level private apartment complex faced with a restaurant and a nightclub at street level. Usually upon returning from a mission, the team shucked their uniform in the communal wet area, sent it for private laundering and debriefed in the new operations room. But tonight, Griffin wanted to avoid Parker’s judgement.

  As quietly as he could, Griffin strode along the darkened tunnel leading from the street to their headquarters, hoping to silently bypass anyone still in the operations surveillance room. He peeled his hood back, tugged his scarf off, and breathed unhindered for the first time in hours.

  The fake crystals in the necklace he’d stolen cut into his palm, but he dared not loosen his fist until he returned to the seclusion of his apartment. It made sense to release the stolen object in a dumpster somewhere, but Griffin had studied the effect of greed on his bio-indicator, and leaving something outside for anyone to pick up wasn’t the same as taking it home. A twelve percent difference in change of tattoo ink color, to be precise, and tonight, he needed the extra points. He’d spent too long fighting to protect the city. He needed all the greed he could get.

  Air burst from his lungs as he made it to the elevator and the doors closed behind him. Finally, he was alone. As the car lifted to his level, he tried to relax, but the cut of the necklace wouldn’t let him.

  It scratched and irritated, but it was necessary.

  The twin elevator doors opened and Griffin stared along the long, dark corridor to where a tall, muscular shadow loomed against his doorway. He tensed and moved to grip his baton while his other fist ducked behind his back, hiding the stolen evidence. Then he recognized the shadow’s brutish outline. Parker. Griffin let go of his weapon and strode toward his brother who lifted an indignant eyebrow at his approach.

  “What happened, Griff?” Parker asked, pushing off the wall to stand unaided.

  With his long auburn hair and golden eyes, Parker had an animalistic look he was somehow proud of. Must be pride, otherwise why would he wear the ridiculous maroon velvet smoking jacket and designer pin-striped satin
pajamas. All he needed was a pipe and a girl on his arm to complete his own predatory Playboy picture.

  Parker waited expectantly.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Griffin replied.

  “Don’t get fresh with me. Can we talk about this inside?” He waved toward Griffin’s apartment door using a stack of folded papers in his hand.

  Panic choked Griffin. “It’s only Tony across the hall. We can talk out here.”

  Their brother Tony fought the sin of Gluttony and was an actor. He wouldn’t be home. Whatever Parker needed to say, he was safe doing it there. No need to enter Griffin’s place.

  Parker cast an assessing eye over Griffin. “You ditched your brother in the middle of a mission.”

  Griffin bit the inside of his cheek. There were two ways this could go. He could lie outright and come up with an excuse, or simply state the fact that he left because of the needs of his sin. One response would tilt him toward greed, one would keep him neutral––or worse, edge him more into the light. Yet another decision to make when he was already exhausted.

  Parker must have seen Griffin’s gaze twitch toward his wrist because he shook his head disparagingly and lifted the stack of papers.

  “For fuck’s sake, Griff. I know you think you have this balance thing sorted, but you don’t. We each need to find our mate, else we’re going to end up our sin incarnate and become the monsters the Syndicate intended. Is that what you want?” His tone was painfully loud in the small hallway, and Griffin winced.