Jack Dailey
had actually been the one to teach me that Storm Riders had to have a degree of
discretion. It was best if people didn’t know that there were those who could
control the weather in the world, kind of like the Men in Black—the ones from
the movie, anyway.
But now we
had to break into a museum, steal some old clothes, and get away before the
cops arrived. Jack had complicated that with this thunder punch stunt. Now he
and I used arcs of lightning between our hands to act as plasma cutters, which
actually wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I had to keep laser focused on keeping
the ionized channel strictly between my hands instead of allowing the lightning
to ground out on the steel security gate.
“Jack,” I
gritted my teeth, “you are so going to owe me for this.”