This story is the same characters, much later (~10 years?) as this one
“Alarm, Callia.” Charlie’s voice same over her earpiece. “The one in Chicago, the kid whose mom is a quote-unquote masseuse? Taylor Anton. “
“Him?” Callia was heading for the car even as she questioned Charlie. “Send Xana to meet me at the garage. That wasn’t suppose to Change. He wasn’t supposed to go at all, I thought her pet precog said. A dud.”
“Well, I think her precog is off, ’cause he just sent his school pool on fire. Xana’s meeting you at the garage, I’m sending you the last known whereabouts on the kid.”
“He set the… say again?” She strapped on her vest and weapons, and tossed a leather coat over the whole thing, passing a second coat to Xana as she strode into the garage.
“I think she said he set his pool on fire. Shit, Callia, this is going to be a hot potato, kinda literally. And it’s February. What are we gonna to do keep him on ice until September?”
“I’ll come up with something.” She nodded at the passenger’s seat. “Get in, ‘least till were closer. I might need you to scout.” She belted herself in and started driving while her partner was still getting situated. “If we have to we can put him in the dungeon.”
“Seriously? You’re kidding, right? You’re not going to put a fifteen-year-old boy in your dungeon.”
Callia felt herself smirking. “Why not? I was fourteen.”
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