by John McCrae
I’d wanted to check in. To see if they were doing okay. They were.
Now I felt out of place. So odd, considering this group had once been a fixture in my life. I couldn’t just leave, but I didn’t know what to do now that I’d arrived.
“Lot of crazy rumors flying around,” Charlotte said.
“All true, I suspect,” I answered her. I don’t want to talk about that stuff.
“Okay.” There was no surprise in her voice, no questions.
“We’ve gathered our forces. Scared the people who were causing problems. The Yàngbǎn probably won’t cause any more trouble. The Elite won’t be controlling access to key settlements, screening out people who have a right to be there.”
“You say that so matter-of-factly,” Charlotte said.
“It was very matter-of-fact,” I responded. I stood, removing my hand from between the slats of the fence, turning to face her.
“Okay,” she said, again.
Again, no questions. No hunger to know.
It would be unfair to tell her, to burden her with it.
But there wasn’t a lot to talk about, once I got the cape stuff out of the way. I watched the goats cavorting about.
“Diana, Bruce, and Habreham,” Charlotte said.
“Habreham?”
“Mai named him.”
“Ah.” I glanced at the kids, saw Mai with her arms folded, looking very stern as she nodded at me. She could be very serious about being very silly, I remembered.
They were all keeping their distance. No smiles, no excitement at my approach.
What had I expected? For some of them, I’d been gone for a third of their lives.
The kids perked up as the cottage’s door opened. Forrest stepped outside. He’d ditched the tight jeans in favor of looser ones, and wore a simple, short-sleeved flannel shirt. He’d kept the heavy beard.
He smiled as he approached, then shook my hand. “You’re here to see if we took the deal?”
“Deal?”
He looked at Charlotte. “You didn’t tell her?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m embarrassed.”
I glanced between them, searching for a hint. “Explain?”
“A group arrived, offering powers for sale. They had crates of these glass vials.”
“When?”
“An hour ago?”
After our discussion, I thought. Rachel, Imp, Tattletale and I had stopped to eat, to talk about our next step. Cauldron had gone right to work.
“A black woman, lab coat?” I asked. “White woman with dark hair, wearing a suit?”
Forrest nodded.
“We didn’t take the deal,” Charlotte said. “She sounded convincing, but… I can’t say why I didn’t agree. Because there were the kids to look after, and I’m not a fighter.”
“A lot of people agreed,” Forrest said. “It’s a chance to do something, instead of sitting around being helpless. But Charlotte and I talked it over, and we agreed it isn’t for us.”
She said she doesn’t know why she refused, but they talked it over?
The statements didn’t mesh. Charlotte was avoiding my eye contact.
Me?
Was I the reason they’d refused?
My heart felt heavy in my chest, but I managed to keep it together, to sound confident as I spoke, “I think it’s probably a great deal easier to accept a deal like that when you haven’t seen what capes deal with firsthand.”
“Yeah,” Forrest said, and there was a note of relief in his voice that only confirmed my thoughts.
“I don’t… I’ve imagined having powers, who hasn’t? But I couldn’t… have them and not help… and I don’t think I could help,” Charlotte said.
“I was in the neighborhood when Hookwolf’s group attacked some guy’s store, and then nothing affecting me personally for years, until Leviathan attacked. I was there when Mannequin attacked the Boardwalk.”
“I remember.”
I could remember Forrest grabbing the concrete block, hammering at Mannequin’s head. He’d cracked the casing, even, playing a pivotal role in Mannequin giving up.
“We talked about it, and neither one of us wants to leave the kids without a… figure? I don’t even know what we should call ourselves. But I’ve seen how bad it gets when it’s bad. I want to help, but I’m not sure I’d be better than the next guy when it came down to getting powers.”
I wasn’t so sure he was right. Forrest had been more courageous than some capes I’d met. He had a kind of conviction I was coming to connect to some of the best of us. A conviction I wanted to imagine I had.
I realized I’d been silent too long, lost in thought.
“Okay. No, no worries as far as the formula goes. There’s a chance it mutates you into a monster, anyways.”
“She mentioned that,” Charlotte said.
“Yeah. That’s fine. Better you didn’t take it. Just wanted to check in,” I told them. “You have everything you need?”
“More than enough money,” Charlotte said. “We’re doing pretty well for supplies, too. Thank you.”
I nodded.
I was feeling a kind of restlessness. It had been there from the beginning, when I’d realized I was out of place, that I’d intruded on this domestic scene. It was building, getting worse.
“Will it last the next while?” I asked. “The money, the supplies?”
Forrest gave me a funny look. “A while? In what sense?”
“A decade? Two decades? Three?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he gave me a very curious look. I very nearly flinched.
“Yeah,” Forrest said. His voice was soft, almost gentle. “Enough to last us as long as we need.”
“Good,” I said.
Funny, that the weather was so nice here. The sudden changes from night to day, good weather to bad were going to wreak havoc on my ability to adjust or sleep. It had all been so chaotic, was still chaotic.
That probably wasn’t going to end.
I heaved out a sigh, realized in the process that I’d been holding my breath. “Good. That’s all, really. I just…”
Needed a reminder about what I’m fighting for, before the last fight.
“…yeah. That’s all,” I said.
Forrest extended a hand for me to shake. I took it.
Charlotte gave me another hug. I stepped away, then took flight.
Stupid, to fly when my fuel might run low, but I wasn’t up to anything more.
I was just out of earshot when my bugs caught Mai’s voice, “You said the money wasn’t any good.”
“Shh. Quiet,” Charlotte hushed her.
“You did. You said nobody’ll take it. They only take barter.”
“Shhh,” Charlotte said.
“And you said we’re going to have a leaning winter if we don’t get more vegetables out of the garden, so why’d you say we’re doing okay?”
“Because we are,” Forrest said. Bugs I’d planted on his sleeve tracked his movement as he wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, pulling her close.
“We owe her everything,” Charlotte said. “That’s enough, in the big picture.”
She’d said it, no doubt, because she knew I could hear with my bugs. She wasn’t wily, as people went, but I could believe it was for my benefit more than Mai’s.
It still meant the world to me.
“Doorway, please,” I said. “Faceti.”
The portal opened in the air.
■
“Ms. Hebert,” Glenn Chambers greeted me. He smiled. “It must be the end of the world after all, my old students paying visits.”
“Students?” I asked. My eye traveled across the room to the man who sat at the opposite end of the desk. Quinn Calle, my old lawyer. He’d stood from his seat when I entered.
Mr. Chambers hadn’t. He leaned forward. “Weren’t you? I’d like to think I taught something to everyone I worked with. Maybe that’s conceited.”
“Concei
t is a good trait to have,” I said. “An overblown sense of one’s own abilities can be worthwhile, if you’re prepared to try to live up to it.”
Mr. Calle raised an eyebrow. He was a little disheveled, having doffed both tie and suit jacket, and the makeup that de-emphasized the scar on his cheek was partially gone. He glanced up as the lights flickered, then extended a hand.
I shook it. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“A collaborative effort,” he said. Smooth, unruffled, despite his appearance. “Too much paperwork to sort through by myself, so I tracked down several people who’ve worked with supervillains.”
“Ah,” I said.
“I make costumes for anyone,” Glenn said. “But the PRT makes more costumes for heroes, and they’ve discouraged other heroes from using my services, due to hard feelings. It left me with a fairly one-sided customer base. Well, I do fashion as well, but that’s proven to be more of a hobby than a paying venture.”
“Fashion and crime wouldn’t connect, ordinarily, but Glenn does have a passing knowledge of the nation’s rogue’s gallery,” Mr. Calle said. “PRT likes that he’s keeping me from being too forgiving with old clients.”
“What is it you’re doing, exactly?” I asked.
“Vetting capes,” Mr. Calle said. “Not much work for a criminal lawyer in circumstances like these. They found another job for me, helping decide who gets out of jail, when witnesses can’t be found. Who leaves the Birdcage, who gets out of conventional jails, and so on. Starting from the highest power ratings, working our way down.”
Building up our forces, I thought. Cauldron passing around formulas like candy, guys like Calle releasing old prisoners.
What were the others doing?
“I just…”
“You wanted to thank me,” Glenn said. “Naturally.”
“Naturally,” I said, my voice dry.
Mr. Calle spoke, arching his eyebrows. “Rest assured, I’m not hurt in the least, that you chose to thank him before you thanked me. I mean, I was only the man who stood by and helped you through the system after the ill-timed murder of Alexandria and Director Tagg, right in front of me, but yes. The man who gives fashion advice is a higher priority.”
I crossed the room, bent over and kissed Mr. Calle on the cheek. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you’d have hard feelings over that. Thank you, for everything.”
“Quite welcome,” he replied, almost absently. His attention was on the laptop in front of him.
“It’s refreshing, I admit,” Glenn told me. “All of the others who’ve filed through have been telling me they had a last minute epiphany, that they realized the true import of what I had been trying to teach them about image and self-image. Some of them might have even meant it.”
“That may be optimistic,” Mr. Calle said, without glancing up from his laptop.
“Probably. But this young lady took my words to heart before the world started ending. I could see it.”
“I didn’t make a good hero, I’m afraid,” I said.
“Somehow,” Glenn said, leaning back in his seat, “I’m not surprised.”
“Yes, fancy that,” Mr. Calle said. “I would have thought you’d be a model hero.”
“I did try with her,” Glenn said. “And, to her credit, she did try with herself too. Stellar effort, but…”
“I don’t think this is a world where heroics work,” I said.
Glenn looked genuinely annoyed. “Chevalier.”
“He’s running the Protectorate from a hospital bed,” I said. “And they’re trying their best to keep Ingenue from visiting. He’s refusing to be healed until all of the other patients have been treated.”
“Clever,” Glenn said. “Only way he’ll be able to sit back and do his job. The bosses can’t order him to be a face for the public if he’s confined to his bed. Moment the battle starts, he’ll accept a visit and be on the front lines, I guarantee you.”
“I figured it was something like that,” I said.
“See? Proving both my points. You were an excellent student, and Chevalier is exactly the kind of hero we need,” Glenn said. He looked up as an employee entered the room, dropping off a box of files. “Thank you, Carol.”
She glanced at me and Mr. Calle. Mr. Calle, for his part, made a gun with his index finger and thumb, winking and clicking his tongue as he ‘shot’ her. She smiled, shaking her head.
“Really?” Glenn asked. “Crass.”
Mr. Calle didn’t take his eyes off the laptop. “I can be crass when I’m not with a client.”
“There’s no need to be crass at all.”
“It works.”
“Everything works when you’re good looking enough. Which is, again, why there’s no need to be crass.”
“Oh, but it’s fun,” Mr. Calle said. “We all have our vices, don’t we?”
Glenn gave his stomach a pat, nodding sagely, “I admit that’s true. I must admit a predilection for show tunes.”
“I’m starting to wonder how you guys get any work done,” I said.
“You have to keep alert somehow,” Glenn replied. He turned his laptop around. “You know him.”
Über.
“I do, kind of. I didn’t think he’d get arrested. What did Über do?”
Mr. Calle answered for Glenn. “Attempted murder. Bit of a loose cannon, but not so loose they’d stick him in the Birdcage. Shacked up with Circus for a while, but it didn’t take. Relationship-wise or as a partnership. They stood to lose more than they could ever gain if he got loose again, so they made it a secure facility. He hasn’t escaped.”
“Something happened to Leet,” I concluded. “Only way he’d be that… rudderless.”
“Crossed the wrong people, got offed,” Glenn told me.
We could have used him.
“Über’s… he should have been better than he was,” I said. “I remember thinking he’d have been a stellar cape if Leet hadn’t been holding him down.”
“Apparently not,” Glenn said. “Would you accept him or reject him?”
“Accept,” I said. “But I’m biased. I’ll take pretty much anyone. I took Lung.”
“You took the Simurgh,” Mr. Calle said, apparently unfazed.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Enough said,” he replied.
“Put Über in a hospital. Let him give medical attention. Easy, move on to the next.”
Glenn sighed. “Until we accidentally release the one person psychotic enough to derail the entire defense effort. I do seem to recall Chevalier, Tattletale and a….”
“Accord,” I said. “Yeah, I get your point.”
Glenn smiled. “I have missed talking with you. There’s no stopping and waiting for you to catch up with us. Smart people are so few and far between.”
“So true,” Mr. Calle said, including himself among the smart people without a moment’s hesitation.
“Which means,” Glenn said, “I shouldn’t act dense. You came here for a reason, something that isn’t thanking me.”
“I just… I guess I wanted to say… I’m a lot closer to figuring out who I am. Where I fit. A bit ago, I would have said I decided, but-”
“Doubt in the final moments,” Glenn said. “Well, that’s something I understand.”
“Mm hmm,” Mr. Calle acknowledged him, agreeing.
“I’ve seen capes change their outside to reflect a new inside, after close calls and lifechanging events. You’re wondering where you stand, now that you’re at the brink. Only natural,” Glenn said.
“Wholly unnatural,” Mr. Calle said. “Most change their tune when they get a slap in the face and a one-way ticket to the Birdcage. Who’s the real individual, the man who they were for twenty years prior, or the man they become after the handcuffs go on?”
I asked, “You’re saying this me isn’t the real me, that it’s a product of the crisis?”
“You? Hmm…” Mr. Calle paused.
“Her behavior after her arrest was rema
rkably in line with prior behavior,” Glenn commented. “Including the, as you describe it, poorly-timed murder of two very notable figures, after she was provoked. Essentially word for word what Miss Militia had put in her file.”
“Point conceded,” Mr. Calle said.
“I’m not sure that’s how I want to be defined,” I said.
“Take it for what it is,” Glenn said. “You’re very scary when angry. Perhaps… now is the time to be angry?”
“Being angry at Scion is like raging against a natural disaster,” I said. “It doesn’t understand. It doesn’t react. My screams are drowned out in the chaos.”
“You weren’t screaming when you attacked Alexandria,” Mr. Calle commented. “In fact, I remember you were very quiet.”
I nodded.
“If you’ve decided who you want to be,” Glenn said, “Accept all of it. The good, the bad, the ambiguous. Vulnerabilities and strengths. The anger, that’s part of it. The fear for people you care about, that’s a strength too. Doesn’t feel very good while you’re experiencing it, but it’s a well you can tap.”
“Right,” I said. I thought of Charlotte and the kids.
Fuck, I didn’t want to fail here, to let them lose what they were building.
“And with luck, knowing who you are means not having to waste time and effort on putting up a facade. Maybe that extra time and effort you have at your disposal will make the difference.”
A portal opened behind me. A member of the New York Wards. A little bedraggled.
“Take care, Ms. Hebert,” Mr. Calle told me. Making it easier for me to take my leave, for the new arrival to step in.
“Goodbye,” I said. “Thanks again.”
“Goodbye, Taylor,” Glenn said. “You, Weaver, Skitter and the strategist all give him hell, understand? For all of us who can’t be on the front lines.”
I nodded.
“Doorway. To Miss Militia.”
■
The doorway opened, and a small crowd shifted from around me, their attention elsewhere.
It took me a minute to figure out what I was seeing. A hundred people, sitting on folding chairs or standing off in the grass to either side or behind the collection of chairs. They were watching a movie that was being projected onto a massive white sheet, some holding paper bowls with soup, others holding beers.