Superluminary (Powered Destinies Book 1)

by Olivia Rising

  Hopefully those poor souls will find peace, whatever peace exists.

  A younger version of himself would have said some prayers, but his faith in divine justice had withered and died along with his wife.

  An all too familiar voice startled him from his melancholy. “We told you to leave.” Samael.

  Before he could react, Samael generated a vortex of violent winds that knocked him off the edge of the rooftop and sent him into a spiraling free fall.

  3.4 Radiant

  Prague, Czech Republic

  Friday, the 8th of June, 2012

  8:53 a.m.

  Radiant used the bulk of his body to brace himself against the swirling gusts slamming into him. Gathering his powers, he transformed himself into a beam of light, briefly illuminating the overcast sky. He then shot himself up until he reached an altitude just above the rooftop from which he had been pushed. Looking down, he saw that Samael hadn’t moved. His former teammate kept himself suspended next to a church’s bell tower. Playing to the gallery, no doubt. The long ribbons of gray and silver, streaming from his costume, whipped at the air around him. They served as the Dark Angel’s version of wings.

  Samael was listed as the second most dangerous Evolved after the Sleepwalker for good reason. His control over air involved the ability to create vacuums over large areas and enabled him to crush bones with increased air pressure.

  He knew his former teammate better than he would have liked. The two of them had never been on particularly good terms, and their relationship had cooled down even more after Radiant’s unanimous election as leader of the Covenant.

  Fortunately, Samael’s body language didn’t suggest he intended to duel to the death. If he ever did get serious about attacking him, he would strike hard, fast, and without warning. At any rate, he had succeeded in challenging Radiant’s self-control which was probably exactly what he had intended.

  “Did you fly all this way to provoke me, or are you planning to address this situation?” Radiant jerked his chin at the rubble-strewn alley where the trapped level-eight threat paced between the glass obstacles. Judging by their color and lack of glow, the molten puddles had cooled to a solid state by now.

  “Are you suggesting I should kill this thing?” Samael replied in his distinctive South African English, throwing a disgusted look at the new transition.

  Thing? Is he even aware there’s still a person in there somewhere? Regardless of how high the threat level, Radiant never found it easy to put another human being down.

  “You know why he can’t be killed outright,” he answered, stressing the word ‘he’ and its implied humanity as he gestured at the alley. “His aura has absorbed too much energy.”

  “Why don’t you flutter off and let the heroes handle this? You know the protocol: when the Covenant comes in, the rogues get the fuck out.”

  Fuck you for knowing just how to piss me off. Realizing that he was about to lose his temper frustrated him even more. Natalya would have been disappointed so he forced himself to ignore the bait.

  “I know you aren’t coming back, Andrey,” Samael said. “Things will get interesting when the others finally realize that. Alexandra’s still holding out hope, you know. Lord knows why, but the woman is crying her eyes out for you.”

  Radiant knew if he stayed another moment, he might say something he would regret. “Have fun, Samael,” he said instead before charging up and beaming himself about a half mile north to the Sleepwalker’s last reported position. Without Athena’s active involvement, his helmet’s software ran on automated algorithms. They weren’t as effective, but they still allowed him to find his way. He discovered his target after three more jumps.

  Nothing about the Sleepwalker had changed. If there was some kind of connection between this ongoing threat and the student in Prague—something more than the consumption of drugs—it wasn’t apparent.

  The Sleepwalker was a man in his forties who had committed suicide on sleeping pills several months ago, shortly after transitioning. Since then, he had shuffled brainlessly through Europe, moving with the tireless persistence of the walking dead. He wore blue pajamas and no shoes, and the waking dream in which he existed prevented him from grinding his feet down to bloody stumps. Physical and biological limitations no longer applied to the Sleepwalker. The man never stopped, never slept or ate. Whenever he reached a body of water, he turned in a different direction and continued, although it was possible that he might have been able to cross them.

  Nothing deterred his path. Water hoses had been used to shift his direction, but any attempts at imprisoning him had failed because he directed his untiring strength to scale anything and endured all types of barbed wire. Thus, the European authorities had settled on a strategy dubbed ‘watchful waiting’ until they figured out how to deal with him.

  A procession of a hundred or so people shambled along behind him, all with the same distant gazes and drooling, gaping mouths. There had been thousands at one point, back before efficient evacuation plans were implemented. Any attempts at waking these followers from the Sleepwalker’s influence had ended badly. Farther back, a few stragglers whose legs had failed them now crawled along. They were the ones whose relatives hoped for a cure instead of requesting a sniper shot.

  Radiant saw the European Evolved Union’s helicopter hovering six hundred feet below him, accompanied by a second chopper marked with a TV station’s logo. The world watched the Sleepwalker’s slow march with bated breath, hoping that he would never surge.

  Noting the media’s presence, he decided to move on. The Sleepwalker didn’t require his immediate attention, and he didn’t want to become the focus of media spotlight because they would ask questions he wasn’t ready or willing to answer right now.

  ***

  Andrey was relieved to find his apartment in Moscow just as he left it. Alexandra had installed some subtle safeguards to alert him of any intruders, but so far the alarms had never identified any. It was nothing special, just a typical two-room bachelor pad with empty glasses and vodka bottles scattered across the apartment.

  After stripping off his costume, he grabbed a shower before changing into civilian clothes. He ordered stuffed pancakes from a nearby takeout joint and then checked his email. One new message revealed Preacher’s confirmation of the meeting Andrey had requested for that afternoon.

  When his food arrived, he gave the delivery boy a big tip. Stepping past the unplugged phone which had never been in service, he cleared a few empty glasses off the coffee table and took a seat on the secondhand couch. After wolfing down the pancakes, he poured himself a drink from the stash of bottles in his minibar. It wasn’t so much the alcohol itself he craved, but the familiarity of it, the taste of home and the memories of happier days before superpowers.

  Back when he had known who he was, before he had questioned everything about himself. After he downed the drink, he felt ready to check the Athena-designed communications device which had replaced his phone. As long as the higher-ups hadn’t permanently banned all communications with him, Athena had probably already sent updates on any new developments since she disconnected from him earlier that morning.

  Andrey pressed the button to hear a recording of Athena’s voice from the small black box.

  “Andrey, I do not know how happy overseer Vega and the Assembly will be, but I want to thank you for stepping in to handle the Prague transition. I apologize for trying to stop you. The Chief Executive of the Czech Republic was very grateful when he contacted headquarters this morning. All remaining residents near the danger zone have been evacuated, and we believe Prague will be habitable again once Paladin has removed the threat.”

  They’ll cheer three times for the Covenant, no doubt, he thought, peering into his empty glass. I bet nobody will even know I was there. He tried not to be affected by the petty thought, but he couldn’t help it.

  Three cheers for Samael.

  While Andrey refilled his glass, Athena’s voice continued. “Yo
u made the right call by stepping in. Please let me know about your observations and interpretations after you check this message. We will use any new information to augment Samael’s report.”

  Samael’s never been very good at reporting, he recalled. He prefers quick kills to systematic observations.

  He threw back the second shot of vodka, relishing the burn in the back of his throat.

  “There is still no news of the recently disappeared young Evolved, but the last of the riots have calmed down. The UNEOA’s press conference is set for next Tuesday, but the Assembly has not yet come to a conclusion regarding the information that will be released.”

  What could they possibly say to justify Shanti’s elimination? Andrey wondered, slipping into a spell of depression.

  “As per your request, I am working on contacting various parties for you.”

  He gave a genuine smile. He should have known that Athena would come through for him. Well, not for him, exactly. She believed there was a need for real change, too.

  “I need more time to track down the rogues who may be of interest to you, but I have managed to set up a meeting with Paladin and Rose tomorrow evening at Paladin’s private apartment,” her voice said. “It is unlikely anyone else will be present, however. The Wardens are occupied with the investigation of the American off-grid cases. The South American Triumvirate may consider cooperating with you, but I am still waiting on their decision. I have reason to believe Saint may be in contact with Preacher.”

  I doubt he's the only one. Being told that they’re gods appeal to many Evolved.

  “The Mukhtareen want to wait and see, and the European Evolved Union refuses any unofficial communication,” the recording continued.

  So much for talking to the Viking.

  Andrey had met the EEU’s team leader, Rune, on several occasions. The Swedish hero was easy to like, and even easier to share a drink with. Andrey planned to establish contact with him anyway, avoiding official channels. The Mukhtareen’s reaction was no surprise. The Arab Evolved League had done its own thing for years, much like China. Both were efficient enough at suppressing trouble before it made international news that no one complained.

  “I sent some surveillance drones out, but there wasn’t any trace of Raven. I suspect he…”

  As Athena’s recording rambled on, Andrey let his thoughts wander. They landed on Alexandra, and the way she had spoken to him before she had implanted that dreadful language software in her head. She had done it purely out of concern for her career as a heroine. While the software had allowed her to master a few dozen languages in record time, it sounded as though she had lost part of herself in the process.

  He had grown used to Athena’s stilted speech by now, but listening to so much of it at once made him miss the young Greek woman with the shy smile who communicated with her hands and eyes.

  When the recording finally ended, he grabbed a notepad and recorded the report she requested, trying to remember everything about the events in Prague that sounded important. He jotted down the ways the shadows were spawned and how they interacted with his lasers, their absorption effect, and their apparent weakness to glass.

  Once that was out of the way, he got ready for his meeting with Preacher. He didn’t expect very much to come of it, but after the terror he’d witnessed in Prague earlier, he felt more pressure than ever to find answers.

  Maybe Preacher knew something Andrey didn’t. Enough people believed in him that the meeting was worth a shot, and, even though Andrey had no interest in joining the Guides of Destiny, he had to reconsider his role in the world. That morning had definitively proven that the lone hero act wasn’t going to work out for him in the long term. He had not dealt with the threat on his own, and Samael had made it clear that he couldn’t rely on any more cooperation from the Covenant. If things didn’t go well next time—if, God forbid, any undue innocents came to harm while he was on site—Andrey might even risk getting branded with villain status. He knew how UNEOA bureaucracy worked, and it was not fond of rogues.

  Andrey Luvkov had to find his place in the world all over again.

  ***

  The Guides of Destiny headquarters in São Paulo didn’t look like one would expect for an organization that had over sixty million followers worldwide. Preacher’s sect had acquired a run-down two-story brick hotel, and had expanded it with various concrete extensions and outbuildings over the years.

  Andrey had left his costume and helmet at home because he wanted to just be himself for a while. Wearing a simple pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, he rang the visitor’s bell beside the massive iron gate just like any average person. As he waited, he pulled the knit cap down over his brow to hide his identity from passersby.

  His silver cross dangled over the front of his shirt. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to wear it. To set himself apart, perhaps. Preacher had banned his members from using religious symbols in accordance with the sect’s belief that all divine energy had left the world with the Pulse.

  The intercom crackled before a female voice said something in Portuguese.

  “I’m Andrey Luvkov,” he replied in English. “Mr. Varras is expecting me.”

  “Yes. Moment,” the voice replied in heavy-accented English.

  When the gate swung open thirty seconds later, an attractive Latina woman in her early forties met him on the other side and motioned for him to follow her.

  Preacher was waiting for him in a small, but generously outfitted office that projected a homey atmosphere. The furnishings were last-century vintage, and paintings that depicted many natural wonders of the world covered the walls.

  Fits his belief about how our earth is the actual Garden of Eden, Andrey noted.

  Preacher held himself with the poise of a fit middle-aged man who believed in himself. His curly black hair framed a set of keen dark eyes that settled upon the visitor with interest. He sat behind a simple wooden desk with his fingers laced together beneath a distinctive Latino-featured face.

  “Mr. Luvkov, come in! May I call you Andrey?”

  Andrey nodded before shaking the offered hand. Preacher gestured for him to sit down in the armchair opposite the desk.

  “Thank you so much for setting up this meeting,” Preacher enthused. “I’ve wanted to meet you for many months now.” The Portuguese accent gave his voice a warm lilt that might have sounded amiable to a less suspicious visitor.

  This is a dangerous man, with or without powers, Andrey reminded himself as he sat down.

  “I’m sorry for the short notice,” he replied. “My schedule has changed dramatically as of late.”

  He studied the man behind the desk, looking for any kind of indication that he had information about Radiant’s rogue status. He still didn’t know how the information had been leaked to Raven. Maybe Data had somehow intercepted some of Athena’s encrypted signals. She was still investigating.

  Preacher chose to ignore Andrey’s comment while his gaze fell on the small silver cross instead. His lips curled into a slight smile. “What brings you here, Andrey? Your request was … vague.”

  “I have some questions.”

  The religious leader nodded. “Ah, yes. Most people do. Have you read any of my publications? They reveal a lot of answers. Unless they’re out of stock again,” Preacher frowned. “No matter. They should still be available online.”

  “I’ve read some of them. But they didn’t answer my questions.”

  Preacher settled back in his armchair. “Let me guess. Maybe you’re looking for a change of direction?”

  Andrey narrowed his eyes. The man was hitting too close for comfort. “In a way, yes,” he said slowly. “Although, in this day and age, I believe everyone struggles with change.”

  Preacher nodded. “I agree. Have you heard my podcast series on the subject?”

  “Some of them,” Andrey repeated. He had underestimated Preacher’s evangelical tendencies. “I couldn’t help but to notice that some of your predict
ions were less inaccurate than those of most other people.”

  “That’s because scientists are liars,” Preacher replied, pleased. “The white coats care more about their tidy reports than about the truth.”

  With surprising agility, Preacher got up out of his chair and leaned over the desk. There was something unnerving about the intensity of his stare. Andrey didn’t flinch, but his muscles tensed.

  Yes, the man denied his transition, but Queenie’s powers had revealed an anomaly about him that she hadn’t figured out. It wasn’t unthinkable that some Evolved could hide their abilities from her.

  “You are Godkin,” Preacher pronounced. “You have more answers than anyone else, including me, but you are afraid of listening to yourself. Of listening into yourself.” He dramatically sat back down and folded his hands, the epitome of calmness. “Tell me, Andrey. Why is it you are so afraid of remembering?”

  “What should I remember?”

  “The Pulse. Is it not the root of all your questions?”

  “I remember the Pulse. Everyone does. The power went out for the whole world, and, when it came back on, the news didn’t talk about anything else for days.”

  “But most have forgotten that one minute that was considered lost. I remember it. As you could, if you tried.”

  Thousands have claimed the same thing, and their reports were all vastly different. Andrey watched the man’s face without saying anything.

  Preacher exhaled a long breath, his attention drifting back to Andrey’s silver cross. “Your God loved you, Andrey,” he finally said.

  The comment caught Andrey off guard.

  If that was true, my wife wouldn’t have been murdered by petty thieves while I was at church with my mother.

  His fingers clenched into fists beneath the table edge, but he didn’t allow any emotion to find its way onto his face. He had practiced long and hard to be the kind of calm, reasonable man who inspired others.