Flash Fire

by TJ Klune

  “The rest of our lives,” Seth repeated.

  Nick shrugged. “Sure. So long as we don’t wait until we’re both thirty. I want to do things before then. Like, together.”

  “No, that’s not—you really think we’ll be together for the rest of our lives?”

  Nick squinted at him. “Yes? Is that—isn’t that what you want?” Uh-oh. “Or maybe you don’t want that, and we’re about to break up because you think you need to push me away to keep me safe, and I swear to god, Seth, if that’s what this is, I’m going to complain so much, you’ll regret ever thinking something so dumb. Don’t you dare do—”

  Seth laughed, a low sound that Nick felt down to his bones. Nick was in awe of him—the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his teeth flashed, smile wide. “You’re an idiot. I’m not going to break up with you.” His smile faded slightly. “We’ve never—we’ve never really talked about what comes next.”

  Nick frowned. “Yeah, we have. All the time. Remember? We’re going to go to school together, and then I’ll open up my private investigation agency–slash-bakery, and you’ll write true crime books or fiction or be a lawyer who makes sure people listen to voices they’ve dismissed for so long.”

  “You remember that,” Seth whispered.

  “Of course I do,” Nick said. “Just because things have changed for the both of us doesn’t mean we still can’t have that. And honestly, I don’t care what we do or where we go, as long as I’m with you.”

  “You mean it?”

  Nick nodded. “We’re in this together, Seth. And I’m not talking about the Extraordinaries thing. We’re in this life together because we choose to be. You and me, we’re a team. We have been ever since I found you on the swings. I need you to be by my side to make sure I don’t do anything stupid that either gets me arrested or crushed by a Buick flung at me by a stupid villain.”

  “Those are two very different things.”

  “Figure I should cover all my bases,” Nick said. He squeezed Seth’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is that I go where you go. And until you tell me otherwise, that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

  “I won’t,” Seth said, cheeks reddening. “Tell you otherwise, I mean. I like that we’re a team. I couldn’t imagine it being anyone else.”

  “Damn right,” Nick said. He looked around as the beat to the song slowed dramatically, the people on the dance floor coming together and swaying slowly.

  He was about to point out to Seth that Jazz and Gibby were looking like they were about to make out aggressively when Seth stood from his chair, seemingly determined. Seth held out his hand and asked, “May I have this dance?”

  Completely and ridiculously charmed, Nick said, “Yeah. Yes. But remember, I learned from Cap, and he wasn’t messing around.”

  Seth pulled him up, walking backward, eyes on Nick as the crowd parted behind him. “Then I guess you’ll be giving me a teaser of the Nick Experience.”

  Mouth dry, Nick could only nod.

  Seth led them away from most of the other dancing couples and found an unoccupied corner of the dance floor. Unsure if he was supposed to lead or let Seth have the honor, he stood awkwardly, hoping for some last-second inspiration. The choice was taken from him when Seth positioned Nick’s hand on his own waist. Seth then mirrored the position with his own hand on Nick’s hip, bringing them close together with only a whisper between them. He clasped Nick’s other hand, capturing it between them, his thumb brushing the skin of Nick’s palm.

  “Show me what you got, Nicky,” Seth whispered, and Nick thought the rising temperature had nothing to do with whoever had cranked the heater up to ninety degrees.

  They danced. Here, in this little corner of the world, they danced. It wasn’t perfect, but then, Nick thought beautiful things didn’t always have to be. The truth was in the awkwardness, the imperfection. It was in the way their knees knocked together, in the way Nick stepped on Seth’s feet a time or two. About to apologize, Nick stopped when Seth leaned forward. “It’s all right,” he said, mouth near Nick’s ear. “You’re doing fine. You got this, Nicky.”

  He didn’t know how much he needed to hear it until this very moment, and even though it was just a dance, it gave Nick courage. It gave Nick hope, something to hold on to, and there, on the tip of his tongue: those three little words like a lighthouse guiding him home.

  They danced for what felt like hours, everything else falling away.

  Perfect? Never.

  Good? Always.

  The song ended.

  Seth grinned at him as he stepped back. And because he was the best sort of person, he bowed low in front of Nick, one hand behind his back, the other flourishing in front of him. Nick laughed—not at him, never at him. He laughed because he was happy.

  A new song started, another infectious pop travesty where the bass rumbled through the floor and walls, crawling along Nick’s sweat-slicked skin. Seth was pulled away by Jazz, and she shouted in joy as he spun her out expertly, their arms snapping. Before Nick could react, Gibby stood before him, a devilish smile on her face. “Let’s see what you can do, Nicky,” she said, taking her hands in his.

  It wasn’t like it was with Seth. The beat was faster, insistent, and Nick wasn’t sure what to do with his arms or legs—especially when Gibby started moving like liquid smoke, something Nick would never be able to emulate, even with years of practice. But instead of worrying about how he looked, he let go. He raised his arms above his head, shimmying his hips, much to Gibby’s delight.

  Then she was gone, and Jazz was in front of him. She put her hands on his shoulders, and Nick blushed furiously when she slid down his front, dropping low before rising back up slowly. She turned her back to him, her hair in his face as they moved together. Nick placed his hands on her deadly hips, feeling them as they swayed from side to side. There were others around them, the dance floor now crowded, but Nick paid them no mind, his sole focus on the way Jazz felt against him, Gibby and Seth in their periphery, Seth’s hands around the back of Gibby’s neck, hers on his waist. They all bumped together, moved together, dancing, dancing, and in the back of Nick’s mind, a thought like a comet shooting through his head—

  We’ll always stand together. No matter what. Nothing can stop us. Not now, not ever.

  Another slow song. He danced with Gibby, neither of them speaking.

  Another fast song. He danced with Jazz, her eyes sparkling.

  And then Seth was in front of him again, and Nick knew it was time. It had to be. It was now or never. Seth deserved it. He deserved everything good, and if Nick could add to that, if he could be part of it, then he had to give Seth his all.

  He was nervous, yes, but it was a good kind of nervous, the kind where the butterflies in his stomach felt like they were on fire. He was burning from the inside out, and it had nothing to do with Extraordinaries or Pyro Storm. It was because of Seth.

  Nick took a deep breath, letting it out slow as he and Seth swayed from side to side.

  He said, “Seth?”

  Seth smiled quietly at him. “Yeah?”

  “I need to tell you something. Something big.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  Seth shrugged. “Okay.”

  Nick nodded. His palms were sweating, and his breath caught in his chest. They stopped moving. He looked at Seth, standing in the middle of the dance floor, his bow tie slightly askew, his glasses fogged up from the heat. Now, now, now.

  Nick squared his shoulders. He held his head up high. He looked at Seth and said, “I l—where’s my dad going?”

  Seth blinked. “What?”

  Nick frowned as he looked beyond Seth, watching as his father practically ran from the cafeteria, heading for the doors that led further into the school. Dad looked as if he had his phone pressed against his ear, but Nick couldn’t be sure. It was probably nothing. Cap, maybe. Or Officer Rookie. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t supposed to matter. Tonight was about them, not an
ything else.

  Still. Something tickled at the back of Nick’s mind, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It felt … off, somehow. Nick had learned a long time ago to trust his intuition. It might have led him astray a time or two, but often, that flutter in the back of his mind, that slick twist in his stomach, was something he’d learned to pay attention to.

  “Stay right here,” Nick said. “Don’t move; I mean it. I’ll be right back. Need to check if my dad is okay.”

  “You want me to go with?”

  Nick shook his head. “Nah, it’ll only take a minute. When I get back, I’m going to tell you something you need to hear.” And because Cosmo taught him to always leave them wanting, he added, “Prepare to be amazed.” With that, he pushed by Seth.

  He didn’t look back as he moved through the crowd, getting bumped and jostled, Seth calling after him, people looking annoyed as he apologized for an errant elbow. The music picked up again, vibrating down to his bones, the beat pulsing. He ground his teeth together as the pressure in his head began to build like he was getting one of his headaches. He hadn’t had one of those in a few weeks, not since he’d gotten on the new meds.

  He cleared the dance floor and glanced back to see Seth talking to Gibby and Jazz, saying something Nick couldn’t hear.

  As he was turning back toward the doors Dad had gone through, he crashed into someone. A waiter, his tray tumbling from his hands, glasses shattering on the floor, spraying liquid. The people closest to them turned and stared as Nick stuttered out an apology to the waiter, bending over to help him pick up the broken glass.

  “It’s all right,” the waiter said with a sigh. “Happens to the best of us, honeybunch. Don’t worry about it.”

  Honeybunch.

  Nick raised his head slowly.

  It was the same waiter he’d seen when they’d first arrived, the waiter who had looked familiar in ways Nick couldn’t quite place. Even crouched down, the man was tall, slender, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He picked up the pieces of glass, setting them on the tray on the ground. He must have felt Nick watching him, because he looked up.

  And realized exactly what Nick had.

  “Oh shit,” the man breathed.

  “Miss Conduct?” Nick mouthed.

  The man’s eyes widened. “Nick? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “This is my school! What are you doing here?”

  The man—Miss Conduct—said, “Working. This is one of my jobs. I … oh my god. Is he here? Is Pyro Storm here too?”

  “No,” Nick said quickly. Miss Conduct arched an eyebrow. “Wait, yes, but that’s not—why didn’t you tell us you were going to be working at our prom?”

  Miss Conduct rolled his eyes. “Do you know how many high schools there are in the city? How could I have possibly known I’d be working at yours? Besides, it was a last-minute thing. Got a message to pick up some hours. Someone called in sick or their goldfish died in a house fire or something, I don’t know.” He frowned. “The number wasn’t one I recognized, but I don’t usually ask questions when it comes to getting paid.”

  “That’s the perfect time to ask questions!”

  “Riiiight,” Miss Conduct said, plucking up the last pieces of glass as he looked Nick up and down. “Killer suit, Nick. I approve.”

  “Oh, thank you. It belonged to a dead magician.”

  “That I believe.”

  “Miss Conduct, I need to—”

  “Stop calling me that,” he hissed. “Someone might hear you, and I thought we were supposed to be laying low. My name is Mateo.”

  “Mateo,” Nick said, mind racing. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to find my dad. He—”

  “Go,” Mateo said, lifting the tray from the ground as he stood. “I have work to do. We can talk later.” He disappeared into the crowd, never looking back.

  Nick stood, too, ignoring the people staring at him, whispering to each other. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was going to find out.

  18

  The hallways of the school were mostly empty. Nick had never been at school this late before, and the sounds of his footsteps echoed around him, causing him to flinch even as the walls vibrated with the music coming from the cafeteria.

  A woman was walking toward him, her head bowed, dark hair hanging around her face, large sunglasses covering her eyes. She wore jeans and a thick coat, a large purse dangling off her shoulders. Who the hell wore sunglasses indoors at night? She must have been one of the chaperones, on her way back from the restroom.

  He stopped where one hallway intersected with another, head swiveling. Looking left, he saw a pair of doors that led to the back fields of the school. Two people stood in front of the doors, their backs to Nick. He couldn’t see what they were doing, but they weren’t Dad, so he looked right.

  There, at the other end of the hall, was Dad.

  He was pacing back and forth, shoulders stiff, phone still pressed against his ear. Nick hurried toward him, shoes squeaking along the linoleum.

  A few other kids were standing near a row of lockers, the girls talking excitedly, the boys pretending to be cool and aloof with their suit coats hanging over one shoulder, chests puffed out like they were preening show dogs. None of them paid Nick any attention as he rushed by.

  Dad raised his head at the sound of Nick’s approach. The blood drained from his face. He looked as if he were going to say something, but whoever was on the other end of the phone distracted him. “I get that, Rook, but we can’t be too careful. I need you to call Cap, you hear me? Call Cap and tell him—”

  “Dad?” Nick asked, out of breath as he stopped in front of his father.

  Dad held up a hand. “I know, Rook. But I don’t think there’s much we can do about it now. It’s out of our jurisdiction. The police upstate will have to handle it until we get some idea of what he’s planning. Right. Right. Keep me in the loop. I’m going to stick around here, just to be safe. I don’t think he’ll show his face, but it’s better that we prepare.”

  Prepare for what? Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

  Dad said, “Right. Talk soon. No, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called. I’ll—” The phone beeped against Dad’s ear, and he frowned as he looked at the screen. “That’s … weird. I lost service. What the—” He shoved the phone in his pocket, shaking his head, scowl deepening. “Nick, what are you doing out here? Go back inside with your friends.”

  “What happened?” Nick asked.

  Dad hesitated. Nick could almost see the way his mind worked and the moment he decided to tell Nick some version of the truth. “It’s … probably nothing, okay? And there’s nothing we can do about it tonight, so go back inside.”

  Nick glared at him. “Would you tell me?”

  “Kid, I—”

  “We talked about this, remember? No more secrets.”

  Dad sighed, shaking his head. He looked exhausted, as if he’d aged years in the last ten minutes. “It’s Owen. He broke out of the hospital earlier tonight. I don’t know specifics because it’s still early, but Rook was at the precinct when the call came in. He hurt a few people on his way out. One of the hospital staff, they … it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it.”

  No, no, no—“Burke,” Nick choked out. “It was Simon Burke who—”

  Dad shook his head. “That’s what I asked, but no one knows anything right now. Maybe he had something to do with it, but do you really think Owen would want anything to do with his father after what he did?”

  Nick couldn’t breathe. His vision began to narrow as he gagged, bending over and clutching his waist. Bile rose in the back of his throat, acidic and hot. His brain shorted out, a synapse misfiring in an electrical snarl.

  A hand on his back, strong and warm, rubbing up and down. “You’re okay,” he heard a voice say near his ear. “I’ve got you. Breathe, Nicky. Just breathe. In. In, kid. There you go—and—hold. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. Agai
n. Yeah, good. In—hold it—and out. Breathe with me. Big breaths. You got this.”

  Nick gasped, sucking in air. His lungs expanded painfully, but his head started to clear, the fog dissipating slightly. “H-how did this happen?”

  “I don’t know,” Dad said again. “He was supposed to be under constant watch. All those lights.” He paused. “Did Owen ever use his powers without the benefit of the pills?”

  Nick shook his head, sweat trickling down his cheek. “He couldn’t. It was only because of the pills that he could do what he did. Why?”

  “Because of the shadows,” Dad said quietly, still rubbing Nick’s back. “Rook said he was told that Owen used shadows to—it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. Regardless, there’s no way Owen could get back here tonight.”

  “Bullshit,” Nick spat. “If he has his powers again, that means he can fly. For all we know, he’s on his way here right now. We have to tell the others.”

  “Sure, Nicky. Yeah, we’ll do that, okay? Let’s take a moment to—”

  “Hello, Nick!”

  Nick and his father spun around, looking down the hall from where the greeting had come.

  The group of kids still stood against the lockers, but they hadn’t been the ones to call out. They were looking further down the hall, toward the doors. The doors where two people stood, the same two people Nick had noticed when he’d come from the cafeteria.

  A woman faced them, familiar even at a distance, hand raised in greeting as if she were the one who’d called out Nick’s name. Crouched next to her, facing the doors, was a man, hand running along the seams between the two doors, leaving a thick coat of ice, freezing the doors together.

  “Oh no,” Nick whispered.

  The twins. Christian and Christina.

  Smoke and Ice.

  Mr. Burke sends his regards.

  Dad took a step toward them. “You there! Are you students here? What are you doing to the doors?”