The sphere she had placed on the west-side balcony as an emergency escape plan wasn’t anywhere in sight, and the neighborhood with its tightly packed 19th century terraced houses didn’t look familiar to her. The old man’s car had taken her too far off course to retrace her steps. Wisp spent a minute following the curve of the wall, looking out for citizens who showed too much interest in a girl with a rain jacket. Curious glances from passing citizens followed in her wake.
She spotted the light she had left on the other side of the wall and relocated to the sixth story balcony she had left it on. The change in altitude had her already hurting head reeling. The sky, the wall and the sprawl of the city swirled around her in a mad gyration, coalescing in a blend of gray, blue, and red. She gripped the cast iron railing and lurched against it until the dizziness passed.
When her vision cleared and the world stopped spinning, she took a moment to let the relief wash over her and steady her frantic heartbeat. It was over. She was back on the appropriate side, her side of the wall, alive and clutching a rucksack half filled with bank notes. As far as she knew, no one had gotten hurt and the heroes hadn’t identified her. At least not yet.
They might catch the drift once they analyze the surveillance camera streams
The thought burned like a slow-acting poison, so Wisp pushed it away before it corroded her newfound peace of mind. This one time, she wanted Luca to be wrong about his forecasts for her future. She wasn’t a villain and no one was going to push her down that path. End of story.
She recalled her dislocated sphere, and as it zipped across the sky and back to her side, something caught her attention on the other side of the wall. A lone figure on a rooftop a hundred meters away, clad in an asymmetric costume of black and white. He was looking at her and she was looking at him. She couldn’t read his expression, but his hanging shoulders and lowered head told her more than she wanted to know. Sadness. Disappointment. As if he had invited her to trust him, and she’d shot him down, which actually wasn’t too far from the truth.
We might get another chance some other time. Wisp directed her sphere down to ground level. I really hope we do.
For now, her duty was with her friends. She dreaded the moment of facing Luca, of looking him in the eye as she admitted the success of her mission and her own potential downfall. But the anticipation of seeing the others alive drove her back into the toxic nether land. According to everything she knew about Constantine, he usually kept his word, so Hannah should be safe by now. If she was awake … if she was able to speak, to get up and return to her former self, then all of this would have been worth it.
Even the risk of public exposure as a villain. Which was something that was probably going to happen, but the threat of it felt distant and nebulous compared to the reality of the moment. The idea of self-sacrifice for the greater good was tempting in its own way.
It was what her dad had done in his final moments. By following in his footsteps, Wisp would know she’d done the right thing by her friends and honor the tradition of her turtle charm. She would no longer have to lie awake at night and wonder if her dad would approve of the decisions she’d made.
No one ever doubted the honor of dead soldiers, after all…
***
Wisp made the twenty-minute trip back to the bell tower with the expectation that Smoker would reveal himself any minute and harass her with his usual gloating. Or, alternately, try to kill her. Instead he did neither, not showing himself at all, so she was caught in a state of permanent tension. Unsure whether she had succeeded in her mission or not.
A burning need to see Hannah and the others alive and well drove her to make the trip back to the tower as quickly as possible. She moved at a soldier’s brisk jog, sending the light ahead to teleport across straight road sections wherever possible. For the first three minutes, the air was clear enough for her to follow streets and landmarks she recognized. The farther west she got, the higher the palls of Smog rose. Before long she found herself picking her way across rooftops and tall city structures as usual.
The Smog drifted along its reversed distribution pattern as expected, and the air was still, undisturbed by any semblance of superpowers. Even the breeze had given way to sweltering heat. If the villain was still hot on her heels, he must have had a reason for not revealing himself. To lull her into a false sense of security, perhaps. Or to peep behind the curtains of her home and spy on the reunion with her friends. Either way, his mysterious nonattendance creeped her out more than the stunt he had pulled on the other side.
Then again, his absence meant she didn’t have to confront the part of herself that felt desperate and threatened to the point of wanting to kill another person. At least not yet.
Had she been less anxious and jittery, she might have appreciated the irony of Smoker coming to her rescue without meaning to. She suspected he had smoked out East Berlin in order to pile the EU hero team’s collective attention onto her. Yet, as it turned out, the smokescreen – courtesy of the villain, accidental or not – had allowed her to shake off the hero pursuit in the first place. She wouldn’t have completed her mission otherwise.
Which was a good thing or a bad thing depending on how she wanted to look at it. Preferably not at all.
By the time the bell tower’s dilapidated silhouette came into sight, its surrounding square now abandoned and completely immersed in Smog, her thoughts had flown up to the belfry and refused to consider anything else.
“Hey, guys, I’m back!” she yelled, still racing along the top of the nearby church dome and bringing her sphere into position for the final leap. The rucksack dangled from her fingers and bounced along with every step.
Max yelled back at her. “Come over–”
She was already caught in the tide of her power, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Wisp appeared inches away from him on the belfry platform, overturning one of the crate seats as she popped into previously vacant space.
“…quick, she’s awake!” Max finished, only dropping the volume at the last instant.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, he had a grin on his face. Sara sat on the floor near his feet, her attention fully absorbed by the prone and bruised body of Hannah, who was sprawled out on a mat. The two girls held each other’s hands in a tight almost desperate grip, with their fingers trembling where they locked together. Hannah’s eyes were open and fixed on Wisp.
Luca wasn’t there.
“Hey,” Hannah said in a feeble voice.
The sound reduced the world around Wisp to shapes and dashes of color. Nothing mattered except the girl on the insulation mat. Max was saying something else but she wasn’t paying enough attention to know what it was.
“Hey,” Wisp echoed, sitting on the floor opposite Sara to tuck their wounded friend between the two of them. She took Hannah’s hand and held it in her own, constructing a smile that felt real but didn’t want to come. Luca’s absence tugged on her soul and demanded an explanation. Reassurance. Evidence that her turtle’s shell hadn’t cracked and the world within – her new family, her home – had survived the confrontation with Constantine.
“Where’s Luca?” she blurted.
“Downstairs. Taking a nap, I guess.” Max chewed on his lip and averted his eyes.
So Constantine didn’t kill him. Thank you, God, if you’re there.
“Okay.” Wisp swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to say more, but nothing came out.
If he isn’t here now, he’s fighting his inner demons all on his own. Which most likely meant that their friendship was in tatters. The realization didn’t hit her as hard as it would have, given different circumstances. He was alive. They still had the chance to patch things up.
Maybe.
Sara broke the lapse in conversation. She talked with her hands, her expression bright and animated. “They let her go half an hour after you left, and she woke up when Max was carrying her upstairs. She has, um, some bad wounds but i
t looks like someone already treated the worst of them, so she’s going to be okay. No infections or anything like that.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Wisp whispered, suppressing a whimper. The turtle charm beneath her shirt felt warm against her skin.
Hannah stroked the back of her hand with a thumb. “Chin up, girl. Looks like things worked out the way you wanted.” When Wisp didn’t respond she added, “The others told me you went to the warehouse?”
Wisp nodded, glad for the change of subject. “I did. Was it full of Smog when you went, too?”
“Full as a pot whistling steam.” Hannah sniffed as though she smelled something disagreeable. “That’s kind of what I think it is. They’re cooking something in there, and I’ll bet my left nipple it isn’t tea. Or drugs. Or anything … normal.”
“Why did you go there without telling us first?” Wisp gently touched an unbruised section of Hannah’s cheek, showing that there was no reproach in her question.
Hannah forced a tight smile. “I’m a cat. You know the saying about cats.”
“Curiosity? But you’re always so careful. The last time you crossed over to Northside, you spent days preparing for the trip.”
“Three days at least,” Max chimed in.
“Four,” Sara corrected.
“Yeah, about that.” Hannah let go of Wisp’s hand and wiped a sweaty strand of red hair off her forehead. “I was just going to dig for treasure in the usual place, but then I caught two of C’s goons snooping around on our turf. Didn’t see me, but I heard them. They were cracking jokes about a mummy and the curse it cast over the city. But somehow it didn’t sound like they were joking at all.” She grimaced. “Figured I’d never get the joke if I didn’t tail them to the source, and a nagging little voice inside told me it was too big to ignore.”
“A mummy?” Wisp stared blankly at her friend, struggling to fit Hannah’s report into her accumulated understanding of how Dead City had changed over the past few weeks. No matter how hard she twisted and squeezed, this one piece just didn’t fit. There was no such thing as mummies. Even in this post-Pulse age of superpowers, the idea of a walking dead wrapped in bandages still sounded as ridiculous as it had in the last millennium.
“They were talking about Constantine, I think.” Sara tapped a finger to her nose. “He’s old and ugly and no one likes him.”
“It’s probably some sort of code,” Max said. “A metaphor for something they didn’t understand or couldn’t talk about.”
Wisp considered the idea before shaking her head. “Thinking too hard about it isn’t going to get us anywhere. Oh, and Smoker might still be hanging around, listening in. Don’t panic and be careful what you say.” Easier said than done. She caught herself constantly looking over her shoulder and glaring into seemingly empty corners.
Sara blinked repeatedly at her. “I understand.”
Max squinted at the sliver of the afternoon sky that was visible behind the window arches. “I’d still like to know what’s going on.”
“I kind of completed Constantine’s mission.” Wisp patted the rucksack on her lap. “I should probably be going, but I had to see Hannah first.”
“How did it go?” Max asked.
“Pretty well, I think.” Wisp touched her index and middle finger to her chin, signaling to the others that her own report was going to include critical details she couldn’t discuss under the current circumstances. All three of them nodded.
Wisp sat up straighter. “One more thing before I go. I know this is going to be hard for you to talk about, but…”
“Almost all the questions they asked me were about you,” Hannah said. “If you’re planning to go Northside without backup, you’d better watch your skinny ass.” There wasn’t a shred of emotion to Hannah’s statement. If she felt any anger toward her captors for the treatment she had suffered, she was keeping it locked away inside, away from her friends.
Wisp nodded. “What kinds of questions did they ask?”
“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count. Their German was shit, and I’d never seen any of them before yesterday.”
“My powers then.” Wisp squinted at the firefly spark that hovered inches from her face, rendering her features in a reddish tinge of gold. “This was about me from the start, wasn’t it? They probably used you as a means to get at me.” She rubbed her eyes and her gang mates blurred a little. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I really am.”
“I know,” Hannah replied in a husky whisper. Her face turned pale. “You’re going to have a hard time believing this, but hear me out. That warehouse is fucking haunted. I’ve seen apparitions right outside the place, and yeah, this was before I tripped over C’s men and hit my head a few times.”
“Apparitions?” Wisp asked. “Like ghostly people?”
Hannah gave a grim nod. “Like that, yeah. Saw them with my own eyes. They were fickle. There one second and gone the next.”
“Ghosts don’t exist,” Sara said firmly. Max patted her arm, his expression focused and attentive.
“I’ve seen something similar,” Wisp admitted. “When Smoker trapped me near the warehouse. I thought he was messing with me. Trying to scare me before he showed himself.”
Hannah clacked her tongue. “It’s possible. Seems stupid to play ghost-train tricks in that situation. The Smog was freaky enough.”
“Pretty stupid, yeah,” Max said.
“Let’s just pack up and get out of this hellhole,” Hannah said with a weary finality. “I know a few low-key places in Leipzig that don’t smell too bad.”
Sara perked up again. “Are we leaving?”
“Soon,” Wisp said. “I just have to report back to Constantine and take care of a few things first. You guys start packing and stay safe, all right?” What she didn’t say was, I have to go figure out a way to kill Smoker and kick C where it hurts. Because the villain really might have been listening in.
“You got it, boss.” Max rummaged through the plastic bag that sat next to him on the floor. He pulled a fist-sized bundle wrapped in linen rags from it, which he solemnly passed to Wisp. “The Smog detector you wanted. I finished tinkering with it a half hour ago. It’s got a charged battery and everything.”
Smog detector? The bundle was round and compact, and felt heavy in her hands. The drone camera. Max had finished working on it and wanted her to have it in case she got the opportunity to take snapshots of a potential villain lair. She just couldn’t let anyone see or know about it. Especially not Smoker, which was why it was better to pretend it was something else.
“Thanks, Max,” she said. “What about the new clothes?”
He rubbed his chin. “Should be done by nightfall. Both sets.”
“Remember to watch your skinny ass over there,” Hannah added. “I’m serious. They asked me if you’re immune to anything, and how fast you can run.”
Max muttered a string of curses, but Wisp kept quiet. She didn’t need to know how much, if anything, Hannah had revealed to her captors. It didn’t matter. Smoker had seen her in action and Hannah knew nothing about her powers that hadn’t already been an open secret for the past year.
After giving Hannah’s hand a final squeeze, Wisp shoved the camera bundle into her shirt pocket and stood, hugging the rucksack to her chest like a shield.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If, um … we get any unexpected visitors while I’m gone, offer them some lemonade and cookies to pass the time, all right?”
She tried to make it sound like a joke even though it wasn’t. She sincerely hoped the heroes had read or were about to read her note. Whether or not they’d get permission from their UNEOA superiors to enter Dead City was a different matter entirely.
“Visitors?” Max and Sara asked at the same time.
Wisp had already turned her attention northward and stepped up to the ledge. This wasn’t something she could explain. Not until she knew for sure there was no invisible spy listening in.
Her path was clear across the large hotel complexes followed by the long rectangle of the University of Arts, which would take her close to the campus and the city area where the Smog reached only one to two meters high. Constantine wasn’t going to fuss over her entering through one of the windows. He was expecting her, after all.
As she directed her remaining twin sphere to the flat-topped church, her first stop along the chosen route, she paused.
“Good luck. I hope you don’t need it,” Hannah said.
Her power pulled her across the Smog-filled space between buildings, displacing her with her sphere.
If this is going to be about luck, I’m kind of screwed.
Before she went on to the first hotel along her path, Wisp invested a moment in weaving three more fist-sized spheres from the soft late-afternoon light. When they had taken shape, she arranged them to float around her in a triangle. One of them hovered above her head while the others flanked her on either side. No one was going to be impressed by her personal light show unless she made a statement by blinding someone, but the presence of her beacons calmed and reassured her. This amount of potential firepower should last a good long while. Even after sundown.
Having re-armed herself, Wisp continued along the strip of tall hotel blocks that stretched deep into Shadow territory. The Smog had calmed by now, rippling in lazy, shallow waves a good ten or more meters beneath the raised walkways and terraces she used as anchor points for her leaps. Up above, the weather was taking a turn for the worse. The bank of thick gray clouds had swept in across Berlin, devouring what remained of the summer sky.
Gift of Light_A Powered Destinies stand-alone novel Page 19