by Wesley King
She sighed, playing with one of the petals of a flower on the ground next to her. “I know I say this a lot, but I keep having dreams. I just want to say I’m sorry again. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to tell you I was all right. You might be alive now if I had. I wish you were.”
She rested her head against the trunk and gazed up at the clouds moving across the blue sky.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she said. “Do you remember when we used to walk in the forest behind your house? I loved it there too. There were so many more birds there than there are here. Remember how we used to sit on that old log and watch them? Grandma always told you to come in, but you never listened.” She smiled. “You’d wait until it was so dark we couldn’t spot them anymore, and sometimes we’d still wait for owls.”
Emily paused for a moment.
“You were my only family, Grandpa, you know that? Now Hayden is family, I guess, like a brother. But it’s still lonely sometimes.”
It hadn’t been hard to leave her parents behind. When Emily came home after the battle at the Baron’s mansion, they’d merely said, “You’re back.” They’d almost sounded disappointed. And when she told them she wanted to move in with Hayden, they agreed without hesitation. Now that she understood a little more about why they were so cold toward her, she didn’t even care about winning their affection anymore. If they were still too hurt or angry about her mother’s infidelity to treat Emily like a daughter, then that was their problem. She would be fine without them.
But leaving her parents behind was one thing. Losing her grandpa was another.
After an hour or so, the breeze became cool, and Emily pulled herself up from the ground.
“Good-bye, Grandpa,” she whispered.
Emily started back through the woods, listening to the creek fade away. But as she walked, she felt a growing unease in the back of her mind: a sensation she knew very well. Someone was watching her again.
Her eyes darted around the forest, every sense on alert. Then, in the corner of her vision, she saw a flicker of motion.
A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a tree and ran in the other direction. Emily took off after it. She sprinted through the woods, jumping over divots and weaving around trees. But the figure was too fast, and it soon disappeared from view.
She considered possible explanations as she started back for the path. It was a good thing the others were coming tonight. There wasn’t a group of people she felt safer with.
* * *
“Are you sure it wasn’t a squirrel?” Hayden asked as he floated some dishes into the cupboard. He was sitting at the table with his feet propped up on another chair.
“No, it was humanoid,” Emily answered. “And those dishes are dirty.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So you’re the one who keeps doing that.”
“Yeah,” Hayden said. “Can’t have them on the counter. I think Lana almost threw up last time she came into the kitchen.”
Emily sat down at the table. It was disturbingly sticky. “Yeah, most girls are sickened by this place.” She stared at the wall. “I wonder what was watching me in the forest. It was very quick. I chased it.”
Hayden glanced at her. “You chased it? You should have come to get me first. What if you were attacked?”
Emily held back a scowl. She knew Hayden meant well, but she couldn’t help but be annoyed by his overprotectiveness. Needing constant protection was exactly the kind of issue that would hold her back from becoming a full League member. The last thing she wanted was to be babied by the others.
“I can take care of myself,” Emily said curtly. “The Vindico are in prison, so it couldn’t have been them. Unless one of them escaped from the Perch? I know Thunderbolt said they were still there in that news conference, but maybe he just didn’t want the public to panic.”
Hayden shook his head, and a dirt-stained rag started rubbing the counter behind him. “I doubt it. He would have told us, at least. Maybe it was the League?”
Emily frowned. “Why would the League be watching us?”
“To make sure we’re behaving ourselves.”
“In the forest?” she said. “Unlikely. And if they are, you certainly would have been reprimanded by now.”
“This is true.”
An old broom started sweeping the floor and piled all the dirt, plastic cups, and crumpled paper towels into the corner. Then the entire mass floated into the air and started down the hallway toward the back door.
“And I don’t know why Thunderbolt still hasn’t contacted us about Renda’s disappearance,” Emily continued. “You’d think he’d be keeping us informed. What if whoever was watching me is the same person who took her?”
“Well, we’ll just have to keep our eyes open,” Hayden said. “Whoever it was, they would be pretty dumb to try anything. We’d give them a royal butt kicking.”
Emily smiled. “I guess. We do have experience in that field.”
“Exactly. You know, I kind of miss the Vindico sometimes. Apart from the constant threats and beatings, they were pretty fun. There was no shortage of excitement when we were in supervillain school.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Well, this weekend should be good. We’ll finally all be under one roof again.”
“I know. I can’t believe it’s been four months since we’ve seen them. Speaking of which, we should probably get to the airport.” He jumped to his feet. “To the Haydenmobile!”
“Are you sure that van is going to make it to the airport?” Emily asked skeptically. “It almost broke down yesterday on the way to the convenience store.”
“Of course the Haydenmobile will make it,” he said. “If not, I’ll just roll it along with my mind. We’d save on gas that way, anyway.”
As they climbed into Hayden’s rusted, beat-up van, Emily scanned over the neighborhood. She felt it again. Obviously whoever was watching her in the forest had followed her home.
“I’ll be happy when Sam is here,” she muttered. “No one can sneak up on us when he’s around.”
“Yeah,” Hayden said. “We just have to hope his mom lets him get on the plane.”
He flicked on the radio and a deep voice filled the van. Emily and Hayden glanced at each other. It was Thunderbolt.
“. . . doing everything we can to figure out who is responsible for these disappearances.”
“There’s been another one,” Emily whispered.
“We don’t know how they managed to get into our bases,” Thunderbolt said, answering a flurry of background questions. “But I can assure you, we will find Renda and Peregrine, and we will bring the perpetrators to justice.”
Hayden shook his head. “We had really better keep our eyes open.”
“Yeah,” Emily said. “Let’s go get the others.”
5
“CAN’T THESE FRIENDS COME TO SEE YOU INSTEAD?” SAM’S MOTHER ASKED again. Her hands were fidgeting nervously at her side.
“The reunion’s at Hayden’s house,” Sam told her for the fifth time. “I’ll be fine.”
He could tell she was fighting back tears.
“What if they come after you?” she whispered.
“They’re in prison, Mom.”
Sam snuck a nervous look at his watch. He needed to get to his departure gate soon, but he’d been having this discussion for the last twenty minutes. In fact, he’d been having it for the last three weeks, ever since Hayden had invited him to the reunion.
“And if they escape?” she asked. “Who’s going to protect you?”
He smiled. “Mom, they’re supervillains. How would you protect me? I’m going to be with the rest of the group. It’ll be perfectly safe. I’ll call you as soon as I get in and before I get on the plane on Sunday. It’s only two nights!”
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “Are you still nervous about the flight?”
Sam’s smile disappeared. “Yeah.”
Even though he’d flown in both the Shadow and t
he League ship that had brought him home after the battle at the mansion, Sam had never been on a normal plane, and he was terrified.
“You’ll do great,” she said, and then enveloped him in a hug. “You better go, but make sure you call right away when you get there. Can you . . . contact me from there?”
Sam shook his head. “No, it would be too far.”
Because Sam’s telepathic abilities were naturally occurring, he’d been allowed to tell his mother about them. However, she couldn’t tell anyone else, including his father and brother, until Sam and the others were presented to the public in two months.
That is, if they all decided to join the League of Heroes.
At first, Sam had been unsure of whether he was cut out to be a superhero. Actually, he still was. But he knew the others were going to join, and the thought of being with his friends again was enough for Sam to push his fear aside. He’d missed them terribly over the last four months.
Though he’d been a bit of a celebrity when he got home, things didn’t get much better. Sam still had a hard time at home. People talked to him, but they were more curious for details about the Vindico and their powers than they were to find out about Sam’s involvement. His dad and brother were nicer to him for a while, but as time went on, even that went back to normal. Except now it was worse than before because Sam could hear what they were thinking. And it hurt.
“I have to go,” Sam said, giving her a hug. “Love you, Mom. Talk to you soon!”
He started for the gate, lugging his enormous suitcase behind him. It was packed with at least a week’s worth of spare clothes.
“Love you too, Sammy!” she called. “I’ll wait in the parking lot until the plane takes off!”
He waved and hurried on. After spending twenty anxious minutes in line, Sam finally reached the luggage check-in and plopped his suitcase on the scale. A young woman with dark eyes and a severe ponytail stood behind the desk, eyeing him.
Sam was short for a twelve-year-old and very skinny. Combined with his mop of curly black hair, which he’d at least trimmed this week, he knew he looked a little like a mocha-colored Q-tip. The woman probably thought an eight-year-old was checking himself in.
“Do you have your ticket and passport?” she asked.
Sam nodded and fumbled in his jacket. “Here you go.”
She started typing. “That’s strange. They must have oversold this flight.”
“What? How could that happen?” Sam asked.
“It happens sometimes. All that’s left are a few first-class seats.”
He frowned. “How much more are those?”
“It would be an additional two hundred dollars.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “I don’t have that much. My mom bought the ticket.”
“Well, we can reschedule you for the next flight.” She continued typing. “It leaves tomorrow at noon.”
“That’s no good,” Sam mumbled. “I need to get there tonight.”
“There’s nothing else I can do.”
Sam bit his lip, glancing behind him. He really wanted to get on that flight. But Thunderbolt had made it very clear they weren’t to use their powers, especially for anything morally questionable.
But how would they know if he broke the rules just this one time?
“I’d like one of those first-class tickets,” he said quietly.
She raised her sharply plucked eyebrows. “Now you have the money?”
Taking one last nervous glance behind him, Sam extended his thoughts toward the woman’s mind. A swirl of emotions flooded through him. Strange, half-formed thoughts, spoken in the woman’s cool, disdainful voice, floated around his head. He detected a dull sense of boredom first, and beneath that, an overarching desire to go home and have a glass of wine.
Give him the ticket, Sam whispered into her mind.
“I don’t have the money,” he said aloud, “but I kind of need to get on there. Can I go first class, please?”
A confused look came over the woman’s face and she glanced between Sam and the screen. “But . . . it costs more.”
That’s okay. Sam continued to reach into her mind. It won’t bother you later. You’ll be enjoying a nice glass of wine with your friends, talking about how much you hate work. Just give him the ticket, he added, a little stronger this time.
“I’ll just give you the ticket,” she whispered.
She began typing again and produced a new ticket, her eyes a little glazed. “Okay, you’re good to go. Proceed to gate nine. Have a nice trip.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, feeling very guilty.
He tucked the new ticket into his pocket and then hurried toward the gate.
For the first time, it occurred to him he could pretty much do anything he wanted. It was a strange feeling.
He found the woman’s mental voice again, just to make sure she was back to normal. She had already forgotten the encounter and was busy informing someone that their luggage was too heavy. Turning back toward the gate entrances, he felt an odd sensation pulling at the edge of his mind. An intense curiosity was emanating from somewhere nearby, and it was directed at him.
Sam stopped quickly to look around and heard a muffled curse as someone almost barreled into him. “Sorry,” he said as a stocky man in a suit stepped around him and scowled.
Sam scanned the crowd, trying to pinpoint the source of the curiosity. It was difficult with this many people, but he finally felt it flicker off to his left. He spun around but only saw a young girl with bright green eyes and pigtails.
After a moment, Sam continued to the gate, feeling a bit apprehensive.
Someone was watching him, and he sensed that they weren’t friendly.
* * *
“You may now undo your seat belts.”
Sam wiped his forehead and felt the sweat seeping down his face. His knuckles were still white from clutching the armrest, and the pressure in his ears was only now returning to normal. He was pretty sure he had momentarily fainted when they hit the runway.
He hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and started for the exit. The first-class section got off first, so Sam was soon hurrying down the long white tunnel ahead of everyone else into the airport.
After retrieving his suitcase, he headed for the waiting area, dragging it behind him. He couldn’t see any familiar faces in the crowd, so he decided to aim for the front entrance, figuring the others might be there. He was almost to the doors when a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder.
Sam yelped and spun around, raising his arms to defend himself.
“Well, someone’s gotten a little jumpy,” Hayden said.
Lana and Emily were standing behind him.
Emily sighed and shook her head. “Hayden wins.”
“Guess who’s playing spin the bottle tonight,” Hayden said, clasping Sam on the shoulder. “We didn’t get a chance last time, but I think tonight is the—”
“Shut up,” Lana interjected, pushing Hayden aside. “He’s going to get right back on the plane.”
Sam broke into a grin. “Trust me, that’s not going to happen.” Lana wrapped him in a tight hug, and his eyes widened. “Hi, Lana,” he wheezed.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, loosening her grip. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“I know! Hi, Emily!”
Emily hugged him almost as tightly. “Hey, Sammy.” She took a step back and studied him. “You look older.”
He brightened. “I do?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think it’s the shorter hair.”
“Really? I thought it might be too—”
“I agree that you look dashing, Sam,” Hayden said. “And I’m prepared to talk about it all the way home. But I’m starving, and airports make me cranky. Too bad Jamesy couldn’t come earlier. I can’t wait to meet his sister. I’ve heard so many wonderful stories.”
“Don’t harass James,” Lana said.
“When have I ever harassed James?” Hayden replied defensively.
She rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Those times.”
Sam smiled. “It’s good to see you guys again.”
“Sure is,” Hayden replied. “Now let’s get out of here before I get even more annoyed and start throwing people through the windows.” He marched off into the crowd.
Sam glanced at Lana. “So you two are still—”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, and easily scooped up his suitcase under her arm. “Let’s go. We might have to push the van home.”
“You mean the Haydenmobile,” Emily said wryly.
Sam laughed and followed them out of the airport.
6
“I’M SO TIRED,” ALLY WHINED, TWISTING HER LONG, AUBURN HAIR AROUND her finger. “This has been the longest trip of—”
“We’re almost there,” James cut in, his patience wearing thin.
The cabdriver, an older man with a scraggly brown and white beard, smirked at James in the rearview mirror. Ally had been complaining all the way from the airport.
James scanned the street signs and glanced at the directions he’d scribbled on a small sheet of paper. It was getting late, and half the streetlights didn’t seem to be working.
It was lucky they were taking a cab. He doubted he could have found it on his own.
“These houses look like crap,” Ally said. “What is he, a drug dealer?”
“Probably,” James muttered.
The cab turned off the main street onto an even darker side road, where the dilapidated houses were wrapped in shadows. James peered ahead, searching for an old white house with a gravel driveway.
“What’s the number?” Ally asked.
“Twenty-eight, I think. He said it fell off anyway.”
“That’s useful.”
After a few moments, James finally spotted a house perfectly matching Hayden’s description. Even in the dim light seeping out from its windows, James could see the sprouting weeds on the gravel driveway and the white paint peeling off the slats. The grass in the front yard was at least a foot high.