Superluminary (Powered Destinies Book 1)

by Olivia Rising

  She turned her neck to look out of the windows on the driver’s side of the car. Many more people were milling around in the open square across the street from the Maag, loitering in the shadow of Switzerland’s tallest skyscraper. Even with all of the windows closed, the van was inundated with the rap and dubstep that boomed from improvised loudspeakers all around the square.

  As Sarina stared at the unofficial street dance challenge that was keeping the crowd entertained in the square, Sammy caught her eye and wiggled his eyebrows in anticipation. She forced a weak smile in return.

  Sarina had expected an audience of a few hundred, not … this. And she definitely wasn’t feeling prepared, mentally or otherwise. She sank even lower into her seat until her forehead was level with the car door handle, wishing that she could disappear. The sight of her legs contorted and her shins pressed up against the front seat, with her white Velcro shoes positioned at odd angles, provoked a laugh from her seatmate.

  “Uh oh, guys,” Sammy said to the others with a hint of teasing in his voice. “It looks like our newbie’s already dropping.” He spoke in Swiss German with the distinctive Bernese dialect that most of the dance crew shared.

  “I’m not dropping, I’m dying,” Sarina replied, not quite sure if she was kidding. Her accent marked her as the only person in the car who had spent most of her childhood in Zürich.

  “Well, don’t die here. Wait until we’re on stage,” Danny suggested, his voice deadpan. Still, he caught her eye in the rearview mirror and winked. “That would be a pretty cool move, actually. Sure to draw the judge’s attention.”

  “You’re such an ass, Danny,” Kat hissed from the front passenger seat, her rightful position as the troop leader’s girlfriend. Her velvety tone gave away the fact that she didn’t care if her boyfriend offended their new recruit.

  Stefan reached ahead from the very back of the van, where he was lounging across the entire bench seat, and squeezed Sarina’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll just dance around you,” he joked.

  Kat stifled a laugh.

  You’re not helping, homies. Sarina straightened herself in an attempt to feign confidence. She heard two successive pings coming from her cell phone, and turned her attention to checking the new messages. They were from her mom. Sarina still didn’t know when her parents were planning to arrive at the Maag, but she hoped it would be soon. Now more than ever she hoped to to talk to them before her impending death on stage.

  Sara Bee, I’m so sorry, but Uncle Ben’s flight was delayed, the first text message said.

  Nervous anticipation turned to bitter disappointment. Sarina had been touched when her mom had arranged to fly her brother Ben in from Berlin especially for her performance, but now it looked like that act of kindness might keep her parents from getting to see her show. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to read the next message or not, but she scrolled down anyway.

  We might not get out of the airport for a couple of hours. Can you delay the starting time of your dance? Kisses, Mom.

  Sarina blinked to suppress the burning sensation in her eyes. As if the event organizers would care enough about her wanting to impress her new adopted family to reschedule the whole gig. She slipped the cellphone back into her pocket and sucked in a deep breath, then wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  Sammy gave her a concerned look from beneath raised eyebrows. Sarina plastered a reassuring smile on her face for as long as she had his attention. When he looked sufficiently reassured, she turned to stare out the window at the crowd.

  If she let the others see her like this, they’d think she was a crybaby. Besides, the last thing she needed was to hear them trying to mollify her by saying that there was nothing to worry about. That the gig was no big deal. The rest of the crew didn’t understand what this day meant to her, or the role her adoptive parents had played in getting her to this point. They didn’t know where she’d been three years ago, before she’d become part of a real home and family. A family who believed in her. A family who actually wanted to keep her.

  They’d paid for her dancing classes as a means of pulling her out of all the crap she’d been entangled in—all the hard drugs, the lousy boyfriends, the dead ends. Today would have been the first day she’d be able to show off her new self to them, the new family who had shown her two and a half years of effort and encouragement.

  Sarina felt a gentle nudge from her left. She reluctantly turned her face away from the window.

  “Everything okay, Shorty?” Sammy asked, a concerned look on his face.

  “All cool,” she lied before turning her attention back to the world beyond the glass. The crowd dwindled away as Danny steered the van onto a less populated side street lined with fashion boutiques and coffee shops, pulling into a parking spot beside a sign informing that it was for guest parking.

  “It’s go time!” came Stefan’s energized voice from behind her.

  Sarina stifled a groan. With her main motivator gone, she almost wished they’d keep driving. She loved performing, but now she wasn’t sure what the point was. She unfurled her legs and made herself step out of the van while Danny held the door for her. He pulled her duffel bag from the back of the van, then slammed the back hatch and locked the vehicle with the key fob.

  “You think you can stave off your death till after the performance?” Danny teased Sarina.

  Kat answered for her. “Quit bugging the fill-in,” she scolded him in mock seriousness.

  Sarina nearly groaned again. The last thing she needed was to be reminded that she’d just joined the D-Style troop four days ago after one of their dancers came down with an injured Achilles heel.

  The collective sound of the crowd—a combination of musical bass tones, the hum of voices, and the sounds of traffic—amplified as they neared the event hall. Sarina picked out notes from one of her favorite dubstep songs. Even though she liked Kya’s Japanese electronic dance music best, this track was right up there on her list of favorites. She’d heard it so often that she’d recognize it anywhere. The familiarity filled her with a sense of belonging which dimmed her stage fright to bearable levels.

  “Great vibe,” Sammy noted.

  Sarina nodded in agreement. All of those people had gathered to celebrate their lifestyle, taking the opportunity to enjoy an outdoor jam session and mingle with like-minded event goers. It was easy to get caught up in the lively welcoming atmosphere.

  I belong here, Sarina reminded herself as the soundtrack changed to a popular U.K. garage single. She smiled. These people are my people.

  It was this relaxed easygoing spirit which had originally drawn her to the scene. When she lost herself in the music and the community, she could forget the parts of her past that she didn’t want to think about.

  Ahead of her, Danny and Kat pranced along to the rhythm of the garage track, occasionally stopping to bump fists and say hello to people they knew from around the scene. Sarina didn’t recognize anyone, even though Zürich used to be her city. She craned her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of her adopted brother David. He’d bought tickets the moment he’d heard that she’d perform with D-Style.

  At least David will be here to see me dance, even if Mom and Dad miss it, she thought, tears stinging her eyes again.

  Sarina came to a halt, and stood there awkwardly as Danny and Kat stopped to talk to yet another group of people they were familiar with. She was trying her best to mask her discomfort when a shirtless guy extended a hand to offer her a hand-rolled cigarette which gave off a distinctive sweet smell.

  “Yo, little sister. You going to be on stage?” the bare-chested guy asked, showing off a smile that was just a little too relaxed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “With D-Style.”

  As the rest of the crew moved to go on stage, she racked her brain for ways to politely end the conversation.

  “You new?” he asked her.

  “Um, yeah,” she admitted, disappointed the newbie scent was so obviously clinging to her l
ike an invisible shadow.

  “Cool.” He indicated the proffered doobie, extending his hand another few inches. “Want a drag?”

  Sarina hesitated. She couldn’t deny that the idea of taking just a couple of drags from the joint was tempting. She knew only too well how she’d feel relaxed and ready to cope with anything afterwards.

  But it would be cheating. It wouldn’t be her special moment anymore. It wouldn’t be real. It would belong to some other version of herself, someone she didn’t want to identify with anymore. Besides, she knew dope was a slippery slope which might lead back down to dark places.

  “S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I have to go.”

  Sarina quickened her pace to catch up with the others before she changed her mind.

  ***

  Backstage, the atmosphere was tense. The queue for the dressing rooms was filled with dance troops from across Switzerland without any of the joviality that had been present in spades outside. Instead of solidarity, Sarina felt only hostility. The other dancers, it appeared, were thoroughly occupied with themselves, their appearances, and their routines. None of them had any positive energy to share with her.

  Not wanting to let their rain clouds influence her, Sarina quietly sung to herself. In an attempt to bring back the good vibrations she’d felt just minutes earlier, she chose one of the upbeat tracks she remembered being played outside.

  Watch me now, I’m a lady dancer,

  I’ve got the swag in my blood.

  Hold on tight, I’m the only dancer,

  Who’s gonna rock you this good.

  She noticed some eyebrows raising as she sang. Normally she would have been devastated by such open disapproval; she hated rocking the boat. But today, the stakes were too high to let her need for acceptance get in the way.

  She kept on singing, focusing her effort on ignoring the other dancers’ stares and channeling her inner strength instead. She tried to imagine what one of those martial arts masters in the movies would say to her if she was some anxious novice they had to train. She came up empty, though. She hadn’t spent nearly enough time watching TV to even guess at what was said on those shows. The usual fare of after-dinner sitcoms and family movie nights had just never been on her radar. Until two and a half years ago, she hadn’t even known what normal family life was all about.

  When it was finally the D-Style crew’s turn to spill into one of the changing rooms, Sarina felt relieved to be free from the judgmental stares. The change room was actually little more than a prop room with lockers along one wall, a full length mirror propped in a corner, and a large-screen television mounted above the door where a tabloid press newscast was recycling the latest Evolved gossip.

  Even though hero storylines were all the rage these days, Sarina couldn’t relate. Sure, she adored Shanti, perhaps because the former Bollywood singer hadn’t been graced with official hero status by the UNEOA. Most of the other ‘heroes’ were overrated in her opinion. She didn’t think they ever did anything useful beyond motivational speeches at elementary schools. Shanti, on the other hand, was saving starving children in India—and for some reason that didn’t classify her as a hero. Go figure.

  The change room was silent as the dancers unpacked their gear and put their game faces on. Kat claimed the mirror and unpacked her various eye shadows and creams across the small table beside it. The silence was filled with the sensationalized report of a British entertainment journalist from the television speakers.

  “…ever since Christina Chung, who now goes by the name Mascot, has become a Warden and the latest addition to the American heroes team. Unfortunately, Mascot’s hyperspeed isn’t expected to be any antidote for the horrifying effect the Sleepwalker’s aura has on those he encounters. After ten months on the international media’s radar, the Sleepwalker is being held responsible for over six hundred gruesome deaths across Europe. What will it take to wake Europe from this bloody nightmare? Why isn’t the Covenant doing more to stop it? More on that after a word from our sponsors….”

  Sarina forced herself to stop listening. She’d been creeped out by news of the Sleepwalker for months. Just the night before, she’d had a nightmare about him—or it, the monster. Her government was so slow to do anything to stop it that it had already become old news, and was rarely featured in the media anymore. People didn’t want to be reminded about unsolvable problems. The Sleepwalker existed in a different kind of reality, unaffected by any attack or offensive power.

  She was busy storing her items in a locker when she sensed movement beside her. Danny had claimed the locker next to hers, digging his good shoes out of his sports bag. He caught her glance and paused, meeting her eyes. “How’re you holding up, B-Fly?”

  She was glad for the distraction so she flashed her best effort at an ‘I’m not about to screw up your routine’ smile. “Still alive,” she said.

  He snorted back a chuckle. “That’s a start.”

  “I don’t know why I’m such a basket case,” she divulged.

  “Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s nervous their first time. Remember, it’s just six seconds. You’ve got the routine down.”

  “I just don’t want to mess this up for you guys. I mean, what if I throw everything off sync or something?”

  Danny laughed. “Worse things have happened, trust me. No one’s even going to notice if you twist the wrong way. Besides, we’ll cover for you if anything goes off script.”

  Kat abruptly turned away from the mirror, fake eyelash in one hand and eyelash glue in the other. “It’s just six seconds, girl. Relax.”

  “It’s not just six seconds,” Sarina said, pulling her special treads from her sports bag. “It’s my six seconds, and I’m here to make them count, right?”

  “Right,” Danny confirmed, giving his girlfriend a hard look before returning his attention to Sarina. “You said your family’s coming to watch, right?”

  Sarina felt her face fall. “Um, I don’t think my parents are going to make it after all.” Trying to distract herself from the thought, she watched Sammy and Stefan jostle into the hallway.

  Danny noticed her disappointment and touched her arm. “Hey, that’s what cell phone cameras are for. Your brother can film it for them.”

  Sarina perked up at the idea.

  “He’s still coming, right?” Danny checked.

  “Yeah,” Sarina said, feeling a smile spread across her face. “And he’s bringing his soccer club. And his buddies from uni. He bought a ton of tickets online the day he found out I was performing with you guys.” She rolled her eyes. Even though she thought David was awesome, she didn’t want to come across as a braggart.

  Danny grinned. “See? You’re popular. I knew you would be.”

  A compact clattered down hard on Kat’s makeup table. She mumbled something that Sarina couldn’t understand. In the mirror’s reflection, Sarina saw Kat’s eyes on her and Danny.

  Danny’s attention never wavered from Sarina. “Remember the three words that summarize hip-hop?”

  “I am here,” she said softly.

  “What? I can’t hear you!”

  “I am here!” Sarina said with a laugh.

  Danny grinned and held up a fist. She met his knuckles with hers.

  “It’s all about swag, B-Fly. All those people are rooting for you for a reason, so go out there and show everyone that you deserve to be here.”

  Sarina leveled her shoulders and raised her chin, giving Danny a mock salute. “I’ll try, boss.”

  “Good,” he said, slamming his locker closed. “Now all you need to do is get ready.” His glance flickered over her body before he turned away, reminding her it was about time she changed into her gear. The others were already dressed.

  Despite her feigned bravado, anxiousness still fluttered inside her stomach like a trapped bird. Sarina struggled to maintain a blank expression. Nobody appreciated an anxious newbie, and Danny had tried so hard to put her at ease. For him, she had to at least pretend his efforts
to comfort her had worked.

  She smoothed her reddish-blonde braid while her mind’s eye replayed all of the possible scenarios of how she’d screw this up. Throwing up on stage, bumping into the others, forgetting the routine, and shuffling helplessly in plain sight of thousands of people. Or worse, having a total blackout during her six seconds of freestyle.

  Danny unbuttoned his stylishly rumpled shirt and pulled the crew’s signature black t-shirt over his muscular chest. “Remember, everyone’s rooting for you!” he called over his shoulder as he strode into the hallway to join Sammy and Stefan.

  Over by the mirror, Kat turned her head in a slow, deliberate way. Her black-rimmed eyes gazed at her boyfriend’s retreating back, then flickered over to Sarina. She held her stare without saying a word, an eyeliner pen gracefully pinned between two fingers.

  “Got any cure for the jitters?” Sarina stammered, trying to make small talk.

  Kat’s eyes narrowed, and she said nothing.

  “Right,” Sarina whispered to herself, feeling foolish. She turned her attention to putting on her shoes. They were a few months old, but it was evident Sarina took meticulous care of them because they didn’t have a single scuff on them.

  The white sneakers had been a special order from Japan for her seventeenth birthday. They were a perfect match to the pair that Kya wore in her “Mesmerize” video clip: pure white with a dusting of iridescent glitter. Three adjoining Velcro strips of varying lengths stuck out at the sides, giving the shoes a winged appearance. Sarina had unwrapped her gift with a squeal of glee that must have been heard by the neighbors. You’ll fly like a dove, her mother had said.

  She channeled her parents’ support as she sat on the bench to pull on her shoes, determined to overcome the obstacles of the past in order to make her new family proud. She exchanged her yoga pants for black parachute-style capris before pulling off her travel tank top and replacing it with a shirt that matched the crew’s look: black with the word D-Style printed across the front in blue letters. Hers had an asymmetrical cut that left one shoulder bare. She tied the excess fabric into a knot at her lower back to tighten the shirt at her waist.