Superluminary (Powered Destinies Book 1)

by Olivia Rising

  “Nothing from the rogues?” he asked instead.

  Alexandra just shook her head.

  They’re suspicious of Shanti’s killer, he deduced. Can’t blame them.

  On the other end of the couch, Calavera’s bone poncho rattled.

  Andrey needed a change in subject so he turned to Katsuro. “Sensei, have you changed your mind? Will you agree to replace me as leader on the Covenant team? I’m sure everyone here agrees that Samael would be a bad fit, and you’re more experienced than anyone. The Assembly would approve of your suggestion, I’m sure.”

  Katsuro’s face hardened. “I changed my mind, maybe, but I did not change my heart.” He settled his fingers on his chest in a solemn gesture. “Since I’m the second transition in history, it means that I’ve had more time to make poor decisions on my own.”

  “You don’t need to make decisions on your own,” Andrey insisted. “You could set up a team vote structure, like I tried to do.”

  “Tried is the operative word,” Katsuro replied. “I’m sure I would come up against the same walls as you, especially with my history.”

  Andrey recalled that Katsuro’s first hero name had been Ronin, back when he had made some mistakes. But who hasn’t made mistakes?

  “Do you remember what you told me right after I joined up?” Andrey asked his friend. “You said, ‘Don’t let the past be dead weight on your feet.’ Everyone here believes in you, Sensei, and for good reason.”

  There were nods of agreement, and Maya squeezed Katsuro’s hand. Calavera shifted on his seat with a faint jiggle of bones.

  “Fine,” Katsuro agreed with the stoic resignation of a man condemned to death. “I’ll announce my candidacy for overseer Vega tomorrow.”

  Alexandra echoed Andrey’s unspoken thoughts. “We appreciate it, Katsuro. We all know what Samael’s main priority would be if he were made leader.”

  “To kill every rogue who isn’t locked away, even if that means total war,” Katsuro replied.

  Andrey caught Maya stealing a glance in his direction. When their eyes met, she averted her gaze as if she was ashamed of making the connection to him.

  “Speaking of rogues, what direction does the Assembly plan to take?” he asked, forcing himself to relax his grip on the armrest.

  Alexandra was first to respond. “The zero tolerance rule is in effect. Rogues remain outlaws, but the Assembly remains conservative with kill orders, except for proven villains.”

  “What about recruitment?” he asked, undertaking his own recruitment campaign of sorts.

  “Known rogues in Europe, and in parts of Asia, are now contacted and encouraged to join monitoring programs.”

  “Consider me warned,” he joked lamely.

  “Perhaps I should take you into my personal custody,” Alexandra responded, offering weak grin.

  Andrey was reminded of how good it was to hear her laugh. He needed her friendship right now; he needed her.

  Katsuro cleared his throat. “Is there anything else we should discuss?” he asked, turning to Calavera.

  The Mexican hero held up his hands. “No. I just wanted Radiant to know he has our support.”

  “Thank you, friend,” Andrey replied, reaching across Alexandra to shake Calavera’s hand. The bone poncho rattled its approval.

  “Alright, meeting adjourned,” Katsuro proclaimed.

  Maya clapped her hands before reaching for an unopened bottle of wine.

  “Stay for a glass, Calavera,” Katsuro offered. “You are my guest.”

  “Yes, stay,” Maya urged. “We’ll order in some food while Alexandra and Andrey have a private chat on the balcony.”

  Andrey caught Katsuro and Alexandra exchange a glance. Is this about her secret? he wondered. He rose from his seat with a tight feeling in his chest, and gave Alexandra’s hand a tug. She met his gaze, but it took her a few long seconds to stand and join his side.

  Too much hesitation.

  They stepped past the dining table through the balcony door into the warm summer air. Alexandra pulled the door closed behind them, but only partway.

  Leaning over to rest his elbows on the rail, Andrey looked around at the dusk-painted skyline. The mild breeze carried the scent of New York: exhaust fumes, fresh-cooked food, and a faint odor of trash. He wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the view. He was aware that Alexandra stood behind him, and that it took her half a minute to come to his side.

  He had put her in an awkward position. She worked hard to earn the respect of the UNEOA officials, but he also knew that she wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt him.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

  “You have until midnight to return to the Covenant,” she said in one quick breath. “Once that deadline has passed, we are ordered to cut off all communication with you.”

  “Why?” Andrey sounded calmer than his tight grip on the rail suggested.

  “I can only guess. So can you.”

  He sighed. “We knew this was a possibility.”

  “The automated routines of your helmet will still work without my active involvement. As will Iris.”

  He looked her in the eye. “You’re one of maybe three people whose communication isn't traced if you don’t want it to be.”

  “I am not taking the risk, Andrey.” There was a waver to her voice as a single tear rolled down her cheek, tinted red by the sunset's reflection.

  Lord knows why, but the woman is crying her eyes out for you. Samael’s words from the day before rang through his mind. She’s scared, he realized, and for her that sentiment was rare enough that it frightened him. “If they threatened to harm you for talking to me, I want to know right this second,” he demanded.

  “It is you Samael threatened to kill if we are in contact, and you know he could do it.” There was a pleading urgency in her eyes.

  Andrey didn’t respond, pulling her petite body into his arms instead. She nuzzled into him and muttered something unintelligible, the words lost in the billow of warmth he felt through the fabric of his shirt.

  I’m not sorry I left, but I am sorry I left you with my tainted legacy.

  “You know I can take care of myself,” he whispered against the top of her head. “But if it makes you feel better, we won’t talk until the situation has changed.”

  “Yes,” came her muffled response. “I can still find other ways to support you.” She took a step back to look into his face.

  He tugged at one of her stray curls. “How about we focus on tonight for right now?”

  She didn’t smile like he expected. She just wiped her eyes. “There is more I have to tell you, Andrey.”

  “Hmm? What is it?”

  Alexandra took a step back to lean against the railing. “I received an email from … an anonymous source. I could not trace it, but I suspect that it came from the Conglomerate. The sender attached a long list of data. Incidents in chronological order, information regarding powers, et cetera.”

  “You think it came from the Conglomerate?”

  “Who else would have this kind of information and the ability to hide their tracks from me?”

  “This email has you worried?” he prompted, only half listening. He didn’t want to spend their last night together by talking about business.

  “For the most part the information complements what we already knew, and shows the feedback theory is correct, but in a different way than we expected.”

  His mind snapped to full attention.

  “After reading the message, I went through our database to do more research. The email contained exact data about time of transition and death for almost fifty Evolved. And yet, we still do not understand the different power categories.”

  Andrey agreed, though he never paid all that much attention to the UNEOA’s research.

  “Well, I looked up the times and dates when the Evolved of each particular category died, and then I compared that information to the occurrence of new transitions
in the same category.” Alexandra took a deep breath. “They match, Andrey.”

  Now it was Andrey who leaned against the railing. “You mean—”

  “The feedback theory is correct. But it is triggered by death, not life.”

  He pressed his knuckles to his brow as he processed the information. Something about it struck a chord within him, reminding him of something he jotted down in his notes a few days ago. He must have lost the thread somewhere in the heap of other issues occuping him lately.

  Categories. Of course. As the understanding surfaced, his breathing stopped. “Dancer,” he murmured. In a louder voice he said. “Oh, God. When did Shanti die again?”

  “Approximately five fifteen p.m., Greenwich Mean Time,” she replied in a clipped voice, making it clear that she had made the same connection.

  “And Dancer’s transition?”

  “At approximately five twenty.”

  Dancer, the girl who didn’t fit any of the patterns. Dancer, whose classification was one of a kind. Dancer, whose range was staggering even though she hadn’t even surged. She had summoned her family from a mile away during her transition, for crying out loud. From a mile away.

  Shanti’s range.

  Andrey pressed his fists to his temples, attempting to absorb the idea. This was more than just significant, it was world-changing. “So she’s the Healer?” he asked himself aloud.

  Alexandra shook her head. “She moved her family, yes, but they were not physically changed in any way. Even though the scientists could not complete that many tests when she was in Swiss custody, there is little reason to believe she is able to fill Shanti’s role.”

  “Then what does that make her? Because if the category remains the same…”

  Alexandra didn’t respond. She just stood there, peering up at him with those dark eyes. “I will compile a file with the complete data as well as a strong recommendation for the research team.”

  Another question surfaced in Andrey’s mind. “Is this the first time the Conglomerate has contacted you?”

  Alexandra nodded, her eyes on the skyline now.

  “Well, what exactly did they want?”

  “They hope I can pull some strings to prevent more execution orders. They believe Evolved deaths can lead to power surges.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “I am not sure, but I do disagree with wide-scale executions.” Her voice was firm, composed. Nothing about her face hinted at the vulnerability she showed just minutes before. This was his Alexandra, determined to succeed. Andrey didn’t doubt for a second that she would follow her own path, with or without him.

  “Alexa,” he said, appealing to the trusted friend beneath the squared shoulders and firm expression. “Can I ask one last favor before midnight?”

  She turned to him, curious.

  “Find the girl, and keep her safe. You’re the only one who’s got the expertise, the resources and the contacts.”

  “I know you feel responsible, Andrey, but she is not Shanti.”

  “This isn’t about Shanti.” His voice was ragged.

  Alexandra’s dark eyes bore into his. “I know you,” she replied with gentle firmness. “I see her shadow behind everything you have done over the past few days. I have seen how she has eaten away at you. You have to let her go. That is the favor I am asking of you.”

  “I have let her go,” he insisted, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice. “But what I’m talking about now is different. If this girl is truly beyond everything we know about powers, then she’s important.” He wasn’t sure which part of his sleep-deprived mind inspired his words, but he would figure it out later. As usual.

  Alexandra’s features took on a blank expression as she watched the darkening skyline. “I know you do not want to hear this right now, but we have to be careful. The girl said that during her transition, she had angry thoughts. Thoughts she did not understand. She said she was uncertain of her identity, as if it was affected by something or someone else.”

  “Transitions are often confusing. You know that,” Andrey pointed out.

  “Andrey, we have to consider the possibility that the girl is not in full control of herself. That Shanti’s death spawned the Antithesis.”

  Beyond the glass door, Calavera’s bone threads rattled so violently that they were heard out on the balcony. Andrey and Alexandra turned just in time to see the poncho disintegrate in a wave of fragments. Pieces of bone scattered Katsuro’s condo and showered their assembled friends. Some pieces traveled far enough to hit the glass balcony doors with a clatter.

  “What the…” he started. He jerked open the balcony door, running into the living room where Calavera unleashed a tsunami of Spanish profanities while he examined the remains of his trademark.

  “Is anyone hurt?” he asked into the room.

  “We’re fine,” Maya said, studying a wine stain on the front of her blouse. “Calavera’s abuelo must have got upset by something, that’s all.”

  Andrey surveyed the bone pieces that still twitched on the ground. He turned back to Alexandra, who had followed him in from the balcony.

  “Help me find that girl,” he said.

  3.6 Interlude (DJ)

  Paris, France

  Friday, the 8th of June, 2012

  9:19 p.m.

  Jasper Davis couldn’t recall the exact time when he last visited a fun fair. It probably hadn’t been since the early 2000s, when he lived in London with his father and his older sister Hannah. She was always the adventurous sibling, dragging him onto the crazy rides even though the mere sight of them twisted his stomach.

  Funny how life turns out, he mused as he gazed up at the motionless Ferris wheel as it loomed over the abandoned amusement park. Hannah got a biology degree and a wedding ring, and I got superpowers.

  He had never been a huge fan of amusement parks, but this one had a unique kind of charm to it. It had been closed off by the authorities after some of the activists who were protesting the Covenant set up shop there. The troublemakers didn’t linger for long, however, and the park was spared apart from some graffiti and a few upended trash cans.

  Granted, all of the booths and stalls had been closed so he couldn’t buy Sarina a ticket to ride on the Ferris wheel—he was sure that she would have enjoyed it—but the Nameless were having a good time anyway. Snow was exploring a field of flowers which surrounded a small picnic area, pausing every so often to add a few more to the small bouquet in her hands. Ace and Tess sat on one of the wooden benches, engaged in a lengthy conversation. They looked relaxed for a change. Tess wore Ace’s hat, and had hooked both of her elbows over the backrest so her arms dangled. Sarina and Sunny had gone off to hunt for ice cream.

  Jasper rested his elbows on the top rail of the steel fence that surrounded the swing carousel and closed his eyes. He appreciated the quiet atmosphere more than anything. He was better now at shutting out the noise than he had been right after his transition, but large groups of people still overwhelmed him if his concentration slipped. He used the earphones that had become his trademark to block out the cacophony produced by crowds of people.

  Most people weren’t pleasant to listen to for him. They emitted jarring, dissonant sounds that didn’t jibe and insulted his composer’s sense of aesthetics. Some people gave off actual melodies or fragments of one, and those were the individuals who inspired him. They tended to be Evolved or the kinds of personalities that inspired others, too. Authors, artists, leaders.

  Jasper told Sarina that he had a pretty good people sense. That wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wasn’t exactly right, either. The sounds he heard were an expression of people’s moods and personalities. Some were more complex than others, but most were interesting in their own way. He wished that he could have listened to someone like Mahatma Gandhi. Martin Luther King and Ludwig van Beethoven intrigued him as well, but, to his disappointment, his power only extended to the living. Usually he had to be within three hundred feet or so to he
ar them, but sometimes he managed to pick up some people’s sounds by talking to them on the phone, reading their books, or studying their art.

  In one recent case, he had been blown away while chatting online, but he never assembled the courage to tell Sarina the truth about their real life encounter. When they met, the sound of her had drawn him to her like a lantern draws a moth. That was a subject best saved for another time, or perhaps another life, if Jasper could somehow figure out how to reincarnate himself into one of the handsome, slightly older men she preferred.

  He could tell because her melody changed whenever she looked at one of them.

  The sound of footsteps drew Jasper’s attention back to the here and now. Straightening, he looked behind him to see Sarina and Sunny returning from their mission. The kid grinned like a Cheshire cat, clutching a bundle of plastic-wrapped ice cream bars with both hands. Sarina had one in each hand, and she wagged one in his direction when their eyes met.

  “You two didn’t hold up a convenience store, did you?” Jasper called over. “Are those police sirens I hear in the distance?”

  “I wish,” Sunny grumbled. “Sarina insisted that we find a vending machine, even though no one would have noticed if we had taken them from a store.”

  Sarina stepped up to the rail, and thrust a frozen chocolate rocket in his face. “He makes it sound like it was easy, but it wasn’t,” she said as he took the proffered treat. “Even the vending machines were locked away.”

  “We should get rid of the evidence anyway.” Jasper bit off half of his ice cream bar, giving Sunny’s ice cream bouquet a doubtful glance. “How fast can you eat all of those? They’re going to melt.”

  “I can eat at superhuman speed,” Sunny joked.

  Sarina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you and every other thirteen-year-old boy.”

  “I’m almost fourteen,” Sunny cut in.

  “You should at least offer one to Snow,” Jasper suggested. “She would forget to eat if we didn’t remind her.”

  Sunny twisted his mouth into a pout as he eyed the white-haired girl in the field. “She didn’t say anything when I asked who wanted one.”