Super Heroes (The New Super Humans #4)

by T. M. Franklin

  “We'll make it work,” Chloe said.

  Gavin opened a file folder and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here are copies of the lease for you two,” he said, sliding them across the table as Beck and Wren sat down. “Just fill out the top portion and then sign on the last page.”

  A weighty silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of pen on paper.

  “So.” Dylan cleared his throat. “How did things go?” he asked Chloe.

  She was suddenly very aware of the stranger in the room and definitely did not want to talk about what happened in the clearing in front of him. “Fine.” Chloe glanced at Gavin. “Class project,” she explained.

  “Ah yes, finals are coming up too, right?” He faked a shudder. “I don't envy you guys.”

  “Yeah.” Chloe wrinkled her nose.

  “But you're all staying through the summer?” he asked the group.

  “I am,” Maia said. “I'll be TA-ing for my Anthro professor during summer quarter.”

  “We'll all be working,” Beck said. “I'm going to be lifeguarding at the pool. Wren and Dylan will be making frappuccinos—”

  “It's not Starbucks,” Dylan said, rolling his eyes. “We do blended coffee drinks.”

  “Whatever.” Beck shrugged and slid the signed leases back over to Gavin. “What are you doing, Miranda?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” She bounced in her seat, glancing at Chloe. “I got the job at the paper!”

  “You did?” Chloe said. “That's great.”

  “You're working for the Weekly?” Gavin asked. “Are you a reporter?”

  Miranda wilted just a little. “Nothing so exciting,” she said. “I'm more of a make coffee and run errands kind of girl.”

  “You've got to start somewhere,” he said.

  “Right.” Miranda nodded. “And I figure it'll look good on my resume.”

  Gavin tucked the leases into his folder and turned to Chloe. “How about you, Chloe? Any plans for the summer?”

  “Not yet. I've put in applications around town, but haven't had any luck.” She frowned, worried. “I'd really prefer to stay here for the summer.” She needed to. Had to. If she was going to find Ethan, Chloe knew Gatesburg was the place to start.

  “You know, I might have a spot for you at Warden, if you're interested.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing glamorous. Just making coffee and running errands.” He winked at Miranda. “But it's full time, for the summer at least. One of our regular assistants is going on maternity leave.”

  Chloe was torn. She needed the job, but full time? That would definitely put a hitch in her plans. The vision from the clearing haunted her, making her even more desperate to find Ethan . . . more certain that she had to hurry.

  “Maybe,” she said slowly. “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure I can commit.” She scrambled for a tangible reason. “My aunt has been wanting me to come home for a bit, and she’s getting on in years, so . . .” Chloe counted herself lucky that Miranda didn’t call out the blatant lie.

  Gavin headed for the door. “Well, think about it. We have a few weeks until I’ll need someone, so let me know what you decide.”

  “That sounds perfect.” She opened the door for him. “Thank you, Gavin. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem at all.” He stepped out on the porch. “You have my number, so give me a call when you figure things out and we'll set up an interview.”

  Chloe nodded, a weight lifting off her shoulders. “I will. Thanks again.”

  He lifted his hand in a wave and jogged down the porch stairs toward his pickup. Chloe closed the door and whirled around to find everyone watching her expectantly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What? Seriously?” Dylan rolled his eyes and waved her forward. “You’re killing me, here. Get in here and tell us what happened out at the clearing.”

  Chloe opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by another knock at the door. She was surprised to find Beck's sister, Tru, standing on the porch with a backpack over her shoulder.

  “Tru?” Beck stepped forward, dragging her inside. “What's wrong. Are you okay?”

  She rolled her eyes in typical teenager fashion. “I'm fine, Beckett, but dad's working late and I don't like being at home alone.”

  Beck shook his head guiltily. “You should have called me. I'd have come over.”

  “I did,” she said, arching a brow.

  Beck checked his phone and winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Dead battery.”

  She shrugged and swept past him into the living room. “Dad said I could stay over here.”

  Her brother looked skeptical. Chloe felt like she was watching a tennis match, her head swiveling from one sibling to the other.

  “He did?”

  Tru plopped down onto the couch. “Well, if it was okay with you. All of you. And it is, right?” She waited expectantly until a chorus of yeahs and of courses greeted her, and she nodded. “Thanks.”

  “We can head back to my dad's,” Beck offered.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Miranda replied. “It's late. I have some extra blankets and Tru can sleep on the couch.”

  “See, Beckett? I can sleep on the couch,” Tru parroted with a smug smile.

  “Great,” he said glumly.

  Dylan slapped him on the shoulder. “Hail, hail, the gang's all here!”

  “It's good, actually,” Chloe said. “Tru's part of the Order, and you should all hear what happened today.”

  Tru perked up. “What happened today? Is there danger afoot?”

  Beck rolled his eyes. “She loves Sherlock Holmes,” he explained.

  “Sherlock Holmes. Is. Awesome,” Tru said pointedly.

  Chloe smirked. “Well, I have to agree with you there,” she said. “Everybody sit down, because, yes. I think danger is very afoot.”

  Chloe sat alone in her room, looking down at the notebook in front of her. She'd made a list. After the vision in the clearing, she'd been desperate to prompt another vision—one that might give her a clue where Ethan was or how to save him.

  She'd failed.

  For days now—had it been a week? More?—she'd found reasons to sit by the living room window—pretending to study or read a book, even dusting the bookshelves or polishing the coffee table in a fit of desperation. In reality, all she'd been doing was trying to meditate, trying to focus on Ethan, and in the time in between, searching the Internet for any information that could help her access and control her gift.

  Chloe was pretty sure her roommates knew what she was doing, but they didn't say anything. Still, every now and then, she'd catch a worried look or lips parted in a question almost asked, then abandoned.

  She ignored it.

  Chloe was focused. She had one mission: find Ethan.

  Luckily, she'd been doing well in all of her classes. Her grades had dropped, but not so far that her scholarship was in danger, as long as she passed her finals. Chloe was grateful for her lightning-quick short-term memory. A night of cramming would be all it took to pass. She didn't care about doing any better than that.

  Perhaps she should have felt bad about it, but she didn't.

  Chloe had yet to contact Gavin about the job and still wasn’t sure she wanted to. She prepared as well as she could. She went to class. She took notes and wrote her papers, but her heart wasn't in it. How could it be, really?

  She ran a hand over the open notebook page. This. This was where her heart was.

  A list of every way she could find to boost her psychic ability. Sure, it sounded crazy. But what wasn't crazy about her life lately? Chances are, the majority of the stuff she'd found was bunk. Wishful thinking by misled, if not delusional, people.

  But she had to try.

  She had to.

  The first two items on the list, meditation and visualization had big red checkmarks next to them. She'd been trying that for weeks. Sighing, Chloe scanned the rest of the list,
closed the notebook, and slid it into a drawer. She got up and headed down to the kitchen to find Miranda leaning against the counter, munching on a bag of potato chips.

  “Want some?” she asked through a mouthful of crumbs, holding out the bag.

  Chloe wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.” She grabbed a handful of fresh raspberries and a water bottle out of the fridge.

  Miranda eyed her curiously. “What's with you and the health food lately?”

  Chloe shrugged. “Fruits and vegetables are high-vibrational.”

  “High what?”

  Chloe popped a raspberry into her mouth. “I know it sounds weird, but certain foods are supposed to boost psychic energy, or whatever.” She took a sip of water.

  “Like raspberries,” Miranda said doubtfully, picking out another chip.

  “Fresh fruits and vegetables. Lots of water. Raw nuts and seeds.” She shrugged. “Avoid processed foods, reduce your meat and dairy intake—”

  “Because that's . . . non-vibrational?” Miranda smirked.

  “I'm willing to try just about anything,” Chloe replied, tipping her head back to drop the rest of the raspberries into her mouth. She knew she sounded insane, but she didn't care. If Miranda couldn't support her—

  “Hey,” Miranda said softly, “I get it.”

  Chloe looked out the window, avoiding her gaze. “I mean, it probably won't do anything. But maybe? Maybe it will.”

  “And you have to try.”

  She turned to her friend and found her smiling gently at her.

  “Yeah,” Chloe said. “I have to try.” She took a swig from her water and smiled. “Anyway, I've got to go.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Chloe hesitated. She trusted Miranda and knew she'd be supportive, but this . . . this was something she'd prefer to do herself. “Just going to meet with a study group,” she lied.

  Miranda grimaced. “Have fun.”

  “You, too.” Chloe headed for the door.

  “Hey, Chlo?”

  She turned back in the kitchen doorway. “Yeah?”

  Miranda chewed on her lip. “You know . . . you know you don't have to do this all alone, right? We're all here for you. We all want to find Ethan.”

  But that was the thing, wasn't it? They couldn't. They'd been researching, scanning the Order Journal, poring over historical documents . . . but none of them were any closer to figuring out where Ethan was. It was up to Chloe and her visions. She knew it was the only way. It all rested on her shoulders.

  Still, Chloe forced a smile. “I know.”

  “Want to get pizza later?” Catching herself, Miranda's eyes widened. “Or a salad! A nice, big, unprocessed salad sounds . . . delicious!”

  Chloe laughed. “Sure, that sounds great. I should be back around six.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  “See you.” Chloe headed out of the house and glanced over her shoulder before turning away from campus. She checked her phone for the address, and figured it would take about ten minutes to walk to her destination.

  She found it tucked between a cafe and a battered dance studio—a narrow brick entry with a peeling black door and a small window with the words, Scents & Sensibility painted in glittery purple script. A handful of lotions, perfumes, and soaps were displayed below the name, laid out of over blue velvet. It looked like a run of the mill bath store, hawking organic lotion and handmade bath bombs. But Chloe knew there was more to the shop than its nondescript appearance might suggest.

  The door stuck a little when she turned the knob and she shoved a little harder, a bell above the door frame tinkling when she finally walked in.

  “Be right out!” a man's voice called from . . . somewhere.

  Chloe crept into the cramped space, winding her way carefully between the display tables scattered around the main floor of the shop. To her left, tall bookshelves lined the wall behind a sitting area with a couple of faded, but comfortable looking chairs flanking a dinged wooden table stacked with books. Ahead of her, open shelving crammed with bottles and crystals ran the length of the room behind a glass display case featuring more of the same.

  A curtain swept aside, revealing a doorway and a tiny man with wrinkled nut-brown skin and closely cropped white hair. He wore a well worn white collared shirt beneath an equally worn cardigan that might have once been black but was now an indiscernible shade of gray. His gaze narrowed on her as he stopped short in the doorway, taking Chloe in from head to toe. Then he nodded and stepped forward, letting the curtain drop closed behind him.

  “What can I do for you today?” he asked, a smile finally revealing rows of straight, bright white teeth. So white, Chloe wondered if they were real. He snapped them once, as if he could read her mind, and his smile widened when she jumped.

  Chloe blushed and decided to pretend she hadn't noticed anything. “Yes, I'm . . . uh.” She tried to get her thoughts in order, and straightened her shoulders, looking him in the eye. She had no reason to be embarrassed. She was a customer. He was a business owner.

  “I found your shop online,” she said slowly.

  He nodded. “And you'd like some lotion, or perhaps a nice bath bomb?” He pulled a fist-sized blue ball from a shelf behind him and placed it on the counter. “This one has lavender and chamomile. Very relaxing.”

  “No . . .”

  “Perhaps I can interest you in some essential oils? Or I have a nice selection of tea—”

  “I need something to boost psychic energy,” she blurted out. There. That wasn't so hard.

  His white eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin slid across his features. “Anything particular you have in mind?”

  Anything. Everything. I'll take it all.

  Help me, please.

  Chloe tried to not appear as desperate as she felt. “What would you recommend?”

  He studied her again for a moment. “What are you trying to enhance?”

  She swallowed. “Visions.”

  “Past, present, or—”

  “Present,” she said, setting her jaw defensively. He hadn't laughed her out of the shop yet, so that was something. “Yeah, present. I'm . . . uh . . . trying to find something. Someone.”

  The man nodded, his lips pursed as he thought. “There are a few possibilities . . .”

  Chloe's heart pounded, and she waited, her fingers twisting nervously behind her back.

  He pulled out a ring of keys attached to his belt by a retractable reel and flipped through the keys, muttering under his breath. After a moment, he settled on a key and unlocked a panel behind the display case. One by one, he lined up several items on the counter—a mottled green and blue polished crystal on a silver chain, a candle in a tarnished holder, a deck of cards. He tapped his chin for a moment, then bustled over to the book section, perusing the shelves before bringing two books over and laying them down before her.

  Chloe glanced at the titles Accessing Your Inner Psychic and Opening the Third Eye: A Guide to Awakening Intuition and Awareness. Both were familiar to her after her hours of research on the Internet, so she slid those aside and turned her attention to the other items.

  “How do these work?” she asked, reaching out to touch the crystal.

  The shopkeeper picked up the chain and let it dangle. “Azurite,” he replied. “The crystal vibrates at the level of our third eye, so it's excellent for awakening clairvoyance. It can also be used for scrying.”

  “Scrying? How?”

  He shrugged. “Various methods. You can hold it over a map and try to access your gift through it. Or ask yes or no questions—forward and back for yes, right and left for no, that kind of thing.”

  Chloe extended her palm, and he dropped the stone into it. She figured it was worth a shot.

  “The candle is useful for meditation, of course,” he continued, sliding it closer to her. “Some also are able to read the flame, or even the smoke or melting wax.” He fanned out the cards on the counter revealing different shapes— squiggly lines,
a triangle, a circle. “The Zener cards are useful for practice, to strengthen your gift.”

  It only took a second for Chloe to decide. “I'll take it all.”

  The man's eyes widened. “Really?”

  She nodded, and fumbled in her purse for her emergency credit card, stilling when he touched her arm. When she looked up, he was studying her with a touch of sadness in his rheumy eyes.

  “Remember, not all things want to be found,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  He pulled his hand back, running it idly across the countertop. “Sometimes, we must come to accept that something lost is truly lost.”

  Chloe's jaw tightened. “Yes, well, that's really not your call, is it?”

  The man nodded slowly. “No, I suppose it isn't.”

  He rang up her purchases and handed her a paper bag with the store's name printed on the side.

  “Be careful,” he said, holding tight to the bag when she reached for it. “Some of the practices suggested in those books can be dangerous.”

  Chloe had just about had it with this guy. “I'll be fine,” she said. Nothing mattered but finding Ethan. She'd faced danger before. She'd do it again. Whatever it took.

  The man nodded and released the bag. “Good luck to you, then.”

  Chloe left the store, her hands trembling for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on.

  Later that week, Chloe sat cross-legged on her bed staring at the burning candle on her nightstand. She had no idea how long she had been focused on the flickering flame—an hour? Three? When had the sun gone down? The candle had burned down halfway maybe, but what did that mean?

  Not that it mattered.

  She wore Ethan's letterman's jacket, the long sleeves shoved up, but still almost covering her fingers, and the crystal she'd bought at Scents & Sensibility hanging around her neck. Scattered around her on the rumpled bedspread lay the books she'd purchased—pages torn and dog-eared where she'd found useful information—as well as other remnants of her life with Ethan; a movie stub from one of their dates, a broken pencil, the note he'd left her when he sacrificed himself . . . even a few strands of hair she'd managed to retrieve from his room at the frat house, tied with a piece of string.