Superluminary (Powered Destinies Book 1)

by Olivia Rising

  “And because He loved you, He gifted you before leaving this world,” Preacher declared.

  Andrey was desperate for him to stop talking. Natalya was the only gift I ever wanted.

  “You are a man of action. Someone who takes responsibility,” Preacher continued. “You are one of the few who are truly worthy.” He leaned over the table again. “You came here to find your new role. Don’t deny it. Once you find that role and accept it, you will remember.”

  “I never wanted this. I’m an architect.” Andrey looked down at the fists on his lap.

  Preacher waited for him to continue, and he did. The words just fell into place, one after the other. “I had the best wife a man could wish for, we had a good life, but this … God,” he spat through clenched teeth, his fingers jerking at the silver chain around his neck, “this God didn’t love her nearly as much as she deserved.” Preacher’s eyes fell on the broken chain, dangling from Andrey’s fingers.

  Andrey said nothing. He was struggling to keep his calm.

  Preacher didn’t wait for an answer. “Let me tell you a story, Andrey. Quite some time ago, I knew a lovely young woman who had a precious little girl. No older than four, I believe.”

  What does this have to do with my wife? Andrey thought. Then he caught himself. He realized then that he had fallen into a trap. He hadn’t come here to talk about his own life, and now he was close to spilling more than he had ever intended.

  “One evening, when she turned her back for just two minutes, the girl disappeared. The end of this story is unpleasant, but suffice it to say that the neighbor’s drugged-up teenage son had gotten hold of his father’s gun and mistook the girl for a monstrous wolf.”

  Andrey forced his expression to remain blank. What’s the point of this?

  “The poor woman was devastated, of course, and cursed the Lord for abandoning her precious child. She took her own life not long after.”

  Whatever point you’re trying to make, it doesn’t apply to Natalya. Or to me.

  Preacher stood to pace the floor. “Here’s my point. One of the policemen on the case was so shaken by the incident that he dedicated the rest of his life to drug prevention. He created a foundation that saved hundreds of young addicts over the years.”

  “Nothing good came of my wife’s death, Mr. Varras, believe me.”

  The religious leader walked around to Andrey’s side of the desk. “Not so. Tragedy always creates good, though it may take many years—many centuries even—to realize it. People need tragedy to outgrow their own self-interest.”

  “I respectfully disagree.”

  Preacher’s footsteps echoed as he returned to his chair. “Tell me, Andrey. If your wife was still alive, would you have accepted the Covenant’s invitation to protect others?”

  Andrey gave him a hard look. “Does it matter? Someone else would have jumped at the chance.”

  “But not you, and I believe that time will tell you that it’s you the world needs right now.”

  Andrey was fed up with playing these games. “Just tell me this. Are your followers planning on getting involved in international conflict?” The real question was whether Preacher’s sixty million supporters had the means to arm themselves. Half a dozen Evolved followers were dangerous enough.

  “The Guides of Destiny? No. But I will tell you one thing. Splinter groups are forming, and they might rally to defend the world’s Godkin from those agents who would harm them.”

  Godkin like Shanti, Andrey filled in the blanks. And agents like me.

  “Splinter groups, led by whom?” he asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say. If some of my followers stray from our doctrine, you will notice soon enough. In fact, I may inform you myself, but you shouldn’t rush to assume harmful intentions.”

  After a moment of tense silence, Andrey stood. It didn’t look like he was going to get any real information out of the man, and he wasn’t willing to endure any more psychological prodding. “Thank you for your time,” he said, voice calm.

  If he was surprised by Andrey’s abrupt exit, Preacher didn’t show it. He simply rose from his seat and extended a hand, along with an irritating smile.

  “I should thank you,” he schmoozed. “If ever you find yourself in trouble … remember, you have friends here.”

  Andrey didn’t agree with the sentiment, but he shook the offered hand with a curt nod. In two quick strides he was at the door. As he reached for the doorknob, Preacher’s voice rang out from behind him with feigned casualness. “Are you sure you don’t remember the Pulse? Is that one minute of time really so vague? Because I think it holds the answers you seek.”

  Andrey didn’t know why the question bothered him so much, but it did.

  “Even if you’ve forgotten, the Pulse will try to guide you,” Preacher continued. “I’ve seen it at work with some of our Godkin. Children remember it best, especially the ones with close ties to Godkin.”

  Andrey’s limbs felt heavy.

  White lines on black paper.

  “No one remembers,” he said. He stepped out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

  3.5 Radiant

  New York, USA

  Saturday, the 9th of June, 2012

  7:31 p.m.

  Andrey arrived at Katsuro’s civilian apartment in Manhattan without expectations. He already knew that Alexandra’s negotiations with the various established Evolved factions hadn’t been anymore successful than his own meeting with Preacher, and it didn't look like he would get a chance to meet someone new tonight. He hoped to spend an evening with friends, if nothing else.

  It was Alexandra who opened the door. She wore a dark blue strapless dress that he hadn’t seen on her in more than a year, making him glad that they chose a private location which eliminated the need for costumes. She had pinned up her black hair in a way which flattered her fine features and dark eyes, but a few curls had escaped their hairpins. She made a futile attempt to rein them in before hugging him.

  Chamomile shampoo, he thought, breathing her in.

  He smiled down at the tumble of curls that brushed against his dress shirt. “Normally I only get hugs after helping you with your paperwork,” he joked.

  “I missed you,” she murmured into his shirt. “I have not seen you in four and a half days.”

  He could have said he was sorry, but he didn’t want to lie to her. He had missed her company, sure. He had missed her wisdom, her reassurance, her warmth, but the gentle press of her body reminded him of his mother’s warning about not misleading her. Alexandra probably read more into their relationship than what he felt.

  He stepped back from the hug with a friendly squeeze before peeking through the open door. “Is Maya here yet?” he asked. “Katsuro said that she might be held up by an interview for the Wardens.”

  “Yes, she has arrived,” Alexandra answered stiffly. “She will not join the existing Wardens team. The Department of Evolved Affairs is considering a new team based out of the East Coast. She will be among its first members, along with the Canadian and other independent rogues who agree to the terms.”

  There won’t be any independent rogues left before long, he thought, recalling the UNEOA’s new heavy-handed approach to unknown entities.

  “How is she taking it?” Andrey asked.

  “Better than we thought. She will see Katsuro more often if she joins a team on the East Coast, as opposed to joining the Wardens on the other side of the country.”

  Andrey wondered how she might fit into a hero team. Rose the Red could give off an irresistible scent that had a variety effects from poisoning to putting anyone within range to sleep. Fortunately, she had the option of deactivating her power. The same had not been true for others.

  He stepped through the doorway without voicing his doubts. “I should say hello before Katsuro makes any jokes about rude Russians.”

  Katsuro Sakai—known as Paladin, the world’s most famous Revoker—had furnished his spacious thr
ee-room condo in a Western style rather than relying on Japanese design. The living room looked American, complete with a large flat screen TV hung above a gas fireplace. Two beige designer couches were arranged around a glass coffee table, and a set of French doors led out to the large balcony on the northern side of the room. The only Japanese elements were a low wooden dining table along with the half dozen legless Zaisu chairs surrounding it. Andrey smiled as he remembered something Katsuro had said once: The best way to get a glimpse at a man’s soul is to force him to sit up straight while eating pizza.

  True to form, Katsuro sat perfectly upright on one of the couches with one hand resting beside his girlfriend’s knee, not quite touching it. He was tall and powerfully built for an Asian, with a hard edge to his beardless face.

  “Hey, Katsuro,” Andrey said as he entered the space. “Hi, Maya.”

  Katsuro stood to shake his hand. Maya offered a wriggle of her delicate fingers. She had styled her red hair into a loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder, and her lean figure sported a healthy tan.

  Andrey nodded at the glass in her hand. “Did you save some wine for me?”

  “Of course, we did, you boozer,” she joked. “Good thing, too. It looks like you could use a glass.” Her grin softened. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I just need to catch up on some sleep is all.” Andrey did his best to sound convincing.

  “Don’t we all,” Katsuro broke in, his tone half-joking as he settled back down on the couch. “They’re making the rest of us do all your work.”

  Maya reached over the coffee table for the wine bottle and a clean glass. “Don’t you mighty heroes ever get a vacation?”

  “I should take Alexa’s advice, and wind down for a few days,” Andrey said.

  Maya gave him a wink as she poured the wine into the glass. “Maybe we should leave you alone with her later, hmm? We have a surprise guest, so you better behave,” she teased, passing the glass to Andrey.

  “Surprise guest?” he asked, taking the wine. From where he stood, he couldn’t see anyone else.

  Alexandra came up beside him. “In the bathroom,” she whispered.

  I’m not the only one who needs a break, he thought, noting her droopy eyelids. Before he could ask another question, the bathroom door opened with a click. A moment later, the chime of bones, clattering against each another, filled the small apartment.

  “Calavera?” Andrey couldn’t hide his surprise.

  She grinned at his dumbfounded expression. Calavera must already have flown out of Mexico when she filled Andrey in on the details of the meeting.

  The imported hero stepped into the living room in full costume. His mask resembled the upper section of a human skull, supplemented by large yellow teeth that had been painted around Calavera’s mouth. His black suit was adorned with the imprint of a life-sized skeleton, which would have been cliché without the addition of the multi-hued neon buttons lining his jacket. The rattling sound came from his trademark poncho made of pieces of bone strung together. Real bone, Andrey knew.

  It was a welcome surprise. Andrey had hoped for a positive response from the South American hero team, which included Central America, but he hadn’t expected their leader to show up in person.

  The specifics of Calavera’s powers had never been made public, but rumors said that the man fit the classic definition of a necromancer: telekinetic powers with a focus on dead matter, namely bones and wood. Andrey had also heard that Calavera’s poncho was possessed by his dead grandfather, who had been a Mexican brujo, a witch. The bones were believed to react to certain stimuli, including falseness, subjects of great interest, and impending disasters.

  Or maybe Calavera rattled them himself for the sake of theatrics.

  “Hola, Calavera,” Andrey greeted the man.

  The bone fragments rattled as the Mexican hero shook Andrey’s extended hand.

  “We won’t get you into trouble by meeting with us, I hope,” Andrey added, gauging whether or not Calavera was responding to his cooperation request in his official capacity.

  “No, Señor,” Calavera assured with his overstated Mexican accent as he claimed a seat on the vacant couch. “There will be no trouble. It is a team decision that we will work with you. Not … how do you say in English? La Confederación?”

  “The Covenant,” Maya supplied.

  His team has agreed to circumvent the Covenant to join me? Andrey wondered. Considering that the other hero teams had refused to even meet with him, it was almost too easy. What did Alexandra tell him? He watched as she took a seat on the couch beside Calavera. She must have noticed his eyes on her because she refused to meet his gaze.

  Andrey raised his wine glass to his lips to hide his frown.

  Katsuro kicked off their official meeting. “Shall we get started?” he said, his tone matching his military straight posture.

  The man never takes full advantage of his couch. With that thought, Andrey claimed the seat beside Alexandra and settled back, stretching out his long legs. She shifted closer, leaning into him.

  “I believe Andrey would appreciate it if we started with the core issues,” Katsuro suggested.

  Andrey gave him a thumbs up without lifting his arm from the comfortable padding and the gentle curve of Alexandra’s body beside him.

  Maya leaned back to watch the others with a twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s get this over with so we can relax.”

  “Maybe you should start by explaining your intentions,” Katsuro suggested to Andrey.

  He nodded slowly. Just what are my intentions? he asked himself, still unsure of the answer.

  “Well … as some of you already know, I’m no longer associated with the Covenant, the UNEOA, or anyone else,” he said, picking his words carefully.

  If anyone in the room was surprised, they didn’t show it.

  “I’ve tried to establish contacts with various factions around the world for some time, but my hands were tied,” he continued. “Now that I can speak for myself, I have more options.” He paused before adding, “Risky options.”

  “Where’s the risk in talking to other heroes?” Maya asked.

  “The Covenant has been the major player in Evolved politics for the last two years. They won’t appreciate other players on the board,” Andrey explained. “Especially not one who used to be their figurehead for political campaigning.” He willed his fingers to relax their grip on his wineglass. He needed to appear level-headed if he wanted to change the world order.

  “Andrey, you are the most popular and respected hero worldwide,” Alexandra said. “If there is anyone who can bring everyone to the table, it is you.”

  He appreciated the fact that she didn’t mention how his last official mission had ruined his reputation, or how his actions had tainted the Covenant’s popularity, but, judging from the guarded looks on everyone’s faces, no one was fooled by Alexandra’s words.

  He had no choice except to address the elephant in the room. “We all know that the Covenant’s influence and credibility have been weakened by the Shanti incident.” No one denied it, making it easy for him to continue without interruption. “So now the time is ripe for the various factions to reconsider their positions.”

  It was a good opportunity, Andrey knew, but also dangerous. Every increment of change he accomplished would create powerful enemies along the way.

  “Maybe you hope this meeting is about some kind of grand plan about how to restore world stability. Answers to power surges, the future of the world, and whatnot.”

  He peered down into his glass to avoid their expectant stares. I hope the same.

  “I don’t have any answers at this point,” he admitted. “All I know is that the way we’ve seen those issues handled so far hasn’t improved the situation.”

  Calavera’s bone cloak clattered in what could have been agreement or disapproval, distracting Andrey’s train of thought. He searched for some kind of thread to pick back up.

  “I want to make
decisions that feel right to me, and I want to invite you all to join me in the search for answers,” he finished, drained of energy.

  Calavera nodded his skull-covered head, his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses that had been worked into the skull’s eye holes. Relieved to know that he had the South American heroes on side, Andrey turned to Katsuro.

  The stoic Asian was a hard man to read. He wasn’t the kind of person who betrayed his feelings on his face, but he had proven himself to be a reliable friend on more than one occasion. Of all the people on earth, Andrey trusted Katsuro more than almost anyone else. The Japanese hero wasn’t one to rush his decisions, and Andrey had to respect that.

  He turned to the other person in the room with whom he would trust his life. “Alexa?” he asked, surprised to discover that he was squeezing her fingers. He wasn’t usually the needy one.

  “Can we talk about this later?” she whispered, averting her eyes.

  He knew her well enough to realize she wasn’t telling him something. When did we start keeping secrets? he wondered. Andrey’s mood was now tainted by a slight feeling of betrayal. He had expected at least a little enthusiasm for his plan. She, of all people, knew how much it meant to him.

  When he took his hand away from hers, she noticed. A wounded look rippled over her face before she regained her composure.

  “I received an answer from the Mukhtareen,” she offered. “They are interested, but hesitant. They will consult among themselves before committing. If you converted to Islam, it would speed things up.”

  “Not an option,” Andrey said. He had read some of the Quran, but he wasn’t ready or willing to invest his faith in any god.

  “I assumed as much, and have already given them that answer,” Alexandra told him. “Prophet has agreed to speak to you in person if you wish to accept the invitation.”

  He decided not to respond at the moment. While Prophet, the Turkish teenage genius with superhuman wisdom, looked pleasant enough on TV, Andrey wasn’t sure he was ready to have another brush with religion quite yet. He was still in recovery from meeting Preacher.