Superluminary (Powered Destinies Book 1)

by Olivia Rising

  “Of course you’re not,” Emily agreed. “You’re nice under that crusty shell of yours. You help me with my homework and everything, unlike O here.” She stuck out her tongue at Peter.

  The girl’s words didn’t make Noire feel any better. “I want to live a good Christian life. I want to walk in God’s light. I was even part of a gospel group back home, before…” she trailed off.

  Before it was all taken away from you, Chris finished for her.

  Her heart went out to the other girl so she stood and walked over to where the Darkshaper paced the floor. Noire looked up from the floor, her dark eyes flicking to Chris’s face.

  “You just want to help people, right?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, of course. They’re just not gonna let me.” Noire looked away. “I mean, why’d I have to get such a messed up power?” She gave a sad laugh.

  If she didn’t know better, Chris would have never believed that this was the same girl she met the day before. Noire’s confidence and attitude had melted into thin air.

  “You know what’s ironic?” Noire asked, looking back at the others. “Before all of this, I actually wanted powers. I thought they would make me better. But guess what? I couldn’t do shit right before, and I’m still a screw-up now.”

  “Seriously?” Peter broke in. “You’ve got more discipline than any of us. I can’t believe how hard you worked out when you joined the Wardens.”

  “Yeah,” Emily gushed. “You lost so much weight. You can even bench press more than O now.”

  Peter gave the little Empath a sour look. “You just need to stop letting people get to you, that’s all,” he said, turning his attention back to Noire.

  “And maybe you could be nicer to people,” Emily suggested. “Mr. Black is angry because you’re angry.”

  “What’s it matter now? I broke my probation. I’m gonna be a goner.”

  “Not necessarily,” Chris interrupted. She wasn’t used to being the sensitive one, but she could try. “No one got hurt, right? So you didn’t technically break your probation.”

  “And we haven’t finished the case yet,” Peter chimed in, eager to show support.

  Emily furrowed her auburn brows. “Trust me, they’re more worried about the bogeyman than they are about you. The bossman has secrets that give him the creeps. I don’t know what, but there are things he isn’t telling us.”

  Note to self: secrets aren’t safe near the kid.

  “There you go.” Peter slapped his hands on his knees before standing. “All we need to do is figure this out so Noire can usurp Kid as America’s new favorite Warden. After me, of course,” he joked.

  Emily turned to Chris. “I think you can figure it out if you wanted to,” she said in a serious tone.

  Chris was incredulous. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “You’re not trying hard enough because you hate when bossy people tell you what to do,” Emily offered.

  The accusation bothered Chris more than she wanted to admit, but she knew better than to pretend it wasn’t true. She’d been a half-hearted hero ever since Athena let her know that she wouldn’t get any real choice in the matter. And the sneaking suspicion the authorities were turning this whole mission into a PR stunt still gnawed at her.

  “Jeeze, tell us how you really feel,” Chris muttered.

  “But it’s true. Will you actually try?”

  Chris looked around at the three pairs of eyes, watching her. When her gaze met Noire’s, she held it. We need a win here, she decided. It might be the only way to keep her teammate safe from the government’s brand of punishment for Evolved parolees.

  “Fine. Tomorrow, if none of our leads pan out, we’ll sit down together and figure it out,” she said.

  “Yay!” Emily cheered.

  “Sounds good,” Peter added. “Now who wants pizza?”

  While Peter and Emily argued over toppings, Noire turned to Chris. “Thanks,” she said in such a soft voice it was almost inaudible.

  “No problem,” Chris replied.

  The moment of team bonding was interrupted by the sound of the key turning in the lock. When the Counselor pushed the door open, he looked even more frustrated and annoyed than before. The four Wardens took their places along the edge of the bed and gazed at their team leader with collective silence.

  “We’ll head to the Historian’s cabin tomorrow morning,” the Counselor announced, tucking his phone away.

  “All of us?” Peter asked, anxious.

  “Yes, by the skin of our teeth, but our clearance can be revoked at any moment.”

  “Understood.” Noire had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes locked on the floor.

  Being a hero shouldn’t be like this.

  “The Department of Evolved Affairs and the Covenant will do a thorough review once we get back to San Francisco,” the Counselor added. “Now go gather your stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” Peter objected. “We were just about to call in for pizza—”

  “No, you’re not,” the Counselor said firmly. “We’ve been ordered to leave Grand Marronnier within the hour. We’ve worn out our welcome here.”

  “But where will we sleep?” Peter asked.

  “The Canadian authorities are providing us with a trailer in the woods outside of town.”

  Peter’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. So let’s get moving. Now.”

  Chris refused to budge. “Before we go anywhere, what’s this creepy secret you’ve held back from us? I think we ought to know.”

  The Counselor’s eyes darted to Emily.

  “Sorry, boss, I had to tell them,” the Empath said. “We’re a team, right? And you’re the one who’s always saying that teams shouldn’t keep secrets.”

  The Counselor’s tight expression relaxed. “A young woman transitioned in a village in Venezuela about twelve hours ago,” he revealed. “Some sort of water-themed power.”

  “Cool,” Peter said. “Is she hot?”

  Noire rolled her eyes. “Water and heat don’t mix, idiot.”

  Peter wriggled his eyebrows, looking happy to have Noire back to her old self.

  The Counselor didn’t look impressed, however. “May I continue?” he asked.

  All four Wardens nodded in unison.

  “As soon as her transition was reported, the Army went to pick her up and move her somewhere safe,” the Counselor said. “But when they got there, she was missing. Disappeared. Queenie can’t locate her.”

  A sickening feeling churned in Chris’s stomach as she heard the words.

  “Venezuela? Where’s that?” Peter asked. “Must be south from the last disappeared person, right?”

  The Counselor shook his head, grim. “No. It’s on the way back north.”

  “I’ll go grab my stuff,” Chris said, already at the door.

  4.6 Investigation

  Grand Marronnier, Canada

  Sunday, the 10th of June, 2012

  7:51 a.m.

  After a short night spent in an old trailer in a bush lot outside of town, the Wardens gathered in the chilly morning air around a plastic table outside. For once, Chris was glad to dress in her furry bear costume because it was warm. The bear helmet sat on the ground beside her chair, waiting for when she needed it. Only their team leader had chosen to remain in full costume for the remainder of their mission, deerstalker hat and all.

  No one was in a chatty mood as they picked away at a breakfast consisting of foil-wrapped Army rations. The Counselor had been reticent since the previous evening. Every so often, he disappeared into the woods to make or take a call they weren’t supposed to overhear. If there was any new information regarding the case, he didn’t share it.

  It has to be about Noire, Chris figured as she watched Counselor restlessly pace in the distance with his phone pressed to his ear. She didn’t look forward to their return to San Francisco. The Covenant’s involvement in Nora’s case wasn’t a good thing.


  The long faces of the other Wardens told her that they had come to a similar conclusion.

  “The bossman said we’re gonna talk to a witness today,” Emily mumbled between listless bites of dry rye bread. “She was the Historian’s girlfriend or something. She still lives in his old cabin.”

  “She lives out in the forest all alone?” Peter asked, surprised.

  Emily shrugged. “Maybe she’s an ornithologist like the Historian.”

  Peter stared at her with a blank expression. “An orni what?”

  “They study birds for a living, dumbass,” Nora grumbled, her mouth full of muesli cereal.

  Chris didn’t join in the guesswork. Her attention was on the early morning breeze ruffling the bright green maple leaves. The peaceful forest atmosphere almost inspired hope that they would have a pleasant day without nasty surprises ahead of them, but something bothered her. Something just felt wrong. Too many questions remained unanswered. For instance, why had Chayton Wallace waited to draw those Anasazi protection symbols until after he heard the killer speak?

  The sound of the Counselor’s phone flipping shut stirred her from her reverie. When their eyes met, he flashed her a small cheerless smile.

  Fuck this. I need a cig to think.

  She got up from her plastic folding chair, and dug a hand into her costume. “Be back in a minute,” she murmured before trudging around to the other side of the old trailer for privacy.

  After lighting the smoke and taking her first drag, she felt relaxed enough to turn the facts over in her head. They were dealing with an unknown Evolved serial killer who had used excessive knowledge about Native American culture to convert the first victim to his cause. When Emily had channeled Chayton, her answers had suggested Chayton thought the bogeyman was some kind of Native American spirit. They knew or strongly assumed he had some kind of psychic lure power, avoided populated areas, and dragged his victims underground with the help of Chayton, the Burrower, as his accomplice.

  Or he absorbs his victims’ powers. Chris took another drag. That’s one nasty possibility.

  The absence of blood suggested it, too. No bodies were ever found, just clothing or personal items. Everything else was just … gone.

  Devoured.

  He travels from north to south, growing as he devours, she recalled.

  “He travels,” she murmured. “The Oracle’s prophecy didn’t say anything about a she.”

  Chayton thought the Indian spirit was both man and woman, but he didn’t reach that conclusion based on what he saw, she thought, recalling what Emily had revealed the day before. But if that was the case, then what did he base it on?

  Chris took another drag from her cigarette. She ran a finger through the cold morning dew that had accumulated on the side of the trailer, and absentmindedly drew her wet finger over her cheek. The cold moisture reminded her of another unsolved lead.

  If our killer was the one who kidnapped that water-powered girl yesterday, then he’s heading north again. But why? The change of direction broke the pattern. According to the prophecy, the ‘martyr’ traveled from North to South. It said nothing about him going back the same way he had come. Evidence showed he was getting faster and faster in his movements, too.

  I hope he didn’t figure out where we are, Chris thought, wishing once again that they hadn’t made such a splash in Grand Marronnier last night. Thanks to Mr. Turner’s PR efforts, anyone with a TV would know that the Wardens were on a mission to track the serial killer.

  She took another drag, thinking about what had brought them to Grand Marronnier in the first place. The Counselor had sensed that the killer came from the North East, and Emily had confirmed he had come from far away. So far away that his starting point must have been in Canada where the Historian had lived before his disappearance two years ago.

  Huh. Chris closed her eyes, and rubbed one temple with her free hand. What if we’re on the wrong track here? Too many facts didn’t add up. The Wardens were chasing after leads based off guesswork. The Counselor’s guesswork, for the most part. She wished she had a better understanding of how his powerset worked, maybe then she would feel more confident in his methods.

  For instance, Emily had revealed how the victim carved those protection symbols after hearing the killer speak—but the Counselor never asked why. He had moved on to explore a different aspect of the encounter instead. How were the Wardens supposed to solve the case with so many unknowns? The pressure was definitely mounting for them to solve it, especially now that another Evolved had disappeared in the Americas.

  Not to mention the fact that Nora’s life depended on their successful outcome.

  Chris opened her eyes at the sound of a car engine which disturbed the peaceful forest atmosphere. That’s our escort, she assumed. She put out her cigarette before stepping around the trailer to watch the narrow road.

  “Come on, it’s time to go and we need our team Mascot!” Peter called. He and Nora collapsed the plastic breakfast table and leaned it against the trailer.

  As Chris helped Emily stack the plastic chairs, her mind turned once again to the suspect’s recent turn north. Maybe he heard about the water chick’s transition in Venezuela and decided to change his course so he could capture her, she speculated. If that was the case, how would he have known about her transition? It had happened only yesterday. The briefing back at HQ in San Francisco had mentioned some kind of possible locating power. But even if the killer had absorbed that particular ability, would he have that much range? There was a distance of many miles between Venezuela and the previous disappearance.

  “Hey,” Chris said, approaching the Counselor. “The girl in Venezuela. Was her transition on the news?”

  “Yes,” he replied, surprised by her question. “The media was all over it because she swam all the way across the Caribbean Sea from Port-au-Prince to Caracas. Why do you ask?”

  Chris hesitated. She hated sounding bossy almost as much as she hated taking orders. “Do you think maybe the broadcasters should stop reporting on any new transitions in the Americas until we find this guy?” She tried to sound casual because she didn’t want to alarm Emily.

  The Counselor held up his phone. “Already done as of last night. Let’s just hope those trashy infotainment channels will follow the directive. Good thinking, though.”

  That’s just common sense. But thanks, I guess.

  The Counselor looked over at the others. “Now let’s just try to keep ourselves off the news if at all possible, shall we?” he asked over the sound of the nearing car engine.

  Nora looked at the ground and gave a meek nod.

  “So, this hot Latino chick,” Peter began, diffusing the situation. “She swam all the way from Haiti to Venezuela?”

  The Counselor plucked his checkered hat from a tree stump and put it on his head. “Her speed and endurance about matched a cruise liner. She didn’t need to take any breaks or breathe.”

  “Wow,” Emily murmured, her eyes going wide.

  Chris wasn’t sure if she was impressed by the Venezuelan’s swimming skills or intimidated by the huge military transport vehicle which had just pulled up in front of the trailer. Four stern faces peered out at them through the windshield, and its six massive tires were almost as tall as her.

  At least we won’t get stuck in the mud on the way to the Historian’s cabin.

  “Come on,” Nora said, picking up her travel bag and heading for the vehicle. “We’re wasting daylight here.”

  ***

  After a twenty-minute drive, the Wardens got out of the military vehicle and spent another ten minutes by trudging through the woods with their escort following a discreet distance behind them. Their short trek was accompanied by the skittering and rustling of wildlife, the buzzing of mosquitoes, and the sound of twigs snapping beneath their shoes.

  No one had more than a few words to share. The Counselor had plugged the music player into his ears and changed tracks every minute or so to pick up connections invisi
ble to the other Wardens.

  Chris focused her attention on the dense forest, scanning it for anything of interest that could help her add another piece to the puzzle. She didn’t expect to make much of a difference since the Counselor was playing the lead role in this mission, while the rest of them were just tagging along. But at least keeping her senses on alert gave her something to do.

  While trailing behind the others, she thought about what she might be doing right now if she still led a normal life. If her transition had never happened, she would be enjoying her regular Sunday morning jog through Museum Park right about now. Then she would bask in the sun in a lounge chair behind the house, reading the latest issue of an action story magazine where the good guys always won.

  If we actually find this guy, then maybe it was all worth it, she thought. Maybe then I can face my parents without feeling like a piece of shit.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when their destination came into view. Nestled along the shore of a small lake, the Historian’s former home looked like the quintessential Canadian cabin. It was a small one-story building with stained wood siding and a bright green pitched tin roof. Two small windows flanked the front door, and a wiry young woman was out on the front porch seated in a rocking chair with a steaming mug in her hand.

  When the woman caught sight of the Wardens, she stood and marched across the clearing to meet them. Her dark piercing eyes viewed the visitors from beneath a heavy fringe of bangs, and her ponytail swung from side to side with each powerful stride. She wore a pair of old jeans, a waffle knit long-sleeved shirt, and a sleeveless brown fleece vest.

  The Counselor removed his earphones as the young woman approached. “Miss Leung,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Thank the government authorities,” Miss Leung clarified, refusing to shake his hand. “They didn’t leave me with much of a choice.”