by Drew Hayes
Somewhere in the mental fugue that was sleepiness and alcohol, Camille realized that Vince was in a bedroom with her, standing over her, close enough to touch. She wondered what he’d say if she asked him to crawl in with her and spend the night spooning. Luckily, cutting herself off when she did meant she was intoxicated enough to have such thoughts, but not so wasted as to act on them.
“Come on guys, I’ll give you a lift home,” Violet offered.
“It’s only a few blocks, we don’t mind walking,” Mary said.
“Forget it, I’m up, and it’s like a three minute drive. No big deal.”
The two women continued talking as Camille set her head back down on the pillow and was immediately retaken by the sandman’s minions. Vince lingered, only for a moment, to double-check she had everything she needed and turn off the light. As he eased the door shut, he whispered to her softly.
“Sleep well,” Vince said, pulling the door closed. Only after it had firmly latched did he complete his sentence, so low it would have strained the abilities of a Super with augmented hearing to make it out.
“. . . Cami.”
* * *
Angela was not a stupid person. She recognized that though she likely ranked in the top five percent as far as dangerous people in the world went, the fact that she was blonde, pretty, and young would always make her seem like a target to some people. Angela also recognized that immeasurable power was only useful if you used it before you were rendered unconscious. As a result of all this, she was keenly aware of the presence of another person following her when she left Six-Shooter and headed for her car that night. Instead of reaching for her mace or keys, however, she reached down deep for her power, readying herself to deal a world of hurt to the poor son of a bitch who’d dare thought to accost her. With no warning at all, she whirled around, ready to level someone.
Chad leapt back in surprise, immediately landing with his fists up and his weight evenly distributed, prepared to fight.
“Shit, Chad! You had me worried for a minute. I thought you and Roy left like an hour ago. Why the hell are you creeping after me in the parking lot?”
“I wanted to talk,” Chad said simply, letting his hands fall to his sides and taking a less offensive stance.
“Your version of talking starts the same way as a lot of other people’s version of assault,” Angela told him, taking a deep breath to calm her heart and let the adrenaline run its course. It was hard to shift from fighting mode to just chatting, but a lifetime of discipline and training did have a few positive side effects.
“I’m sorry,” Chad replied. “I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, and I wanted to talk to you alone.”
“We both have cell phones, you know?” Though her words were still harsh, Angela’s tone had lost its bite. Seeing Chad be awkward was disarming. Sure, normally, he was socially awkward as hell, but he never seemed to realize it. Now, it was evident he felt out of his depth, which just made everything ten times more confusing.
Chad shook his head. “No, I needed to say this in person.”
“Well, we’re both here—alone, and in person. Go ahead.”
“I want to fight you in a match,” Chad announced.
“Of course you do.” Angela felt some of the worry she’d felt vanish, replaced with a strange sense of disappointment. She couldn’t imagine why she’d thought this would be something different. Training and fighting were all Chad thought about. It was why he made great eye-candy and was fun to flirt with, but ultimately was an unlikely prospect for anything serious. She knew that—it wasn’t like it was hard to figure out—so what made her think these new developments were anything different?
“I guess it has been a while. I think I’ve got some free time on Tuesday, so I could squeeze you in.”
“That’s too soon,” Chad replied. “It would need to be Friday.”
“Any special reason why?”
“Because I have to speak with Shane first,” Chad said.
Angela actually laughed at this, her strong voice carrying through the near-empty lot and bouncing off the buildings. “My brother doesn’t care who I fight, not in the slightest.”
“I am aware. However, he is likely to be more selective of who you date.”
“Come again?” For once, Chad had accomplished what so few people at Lander ever had. He’d taken Angela DeSoto by surprise.
“I like you, a great deal as it turns out, and unless my analysis is incorrect, you are similarly interested in me. I wish to take you out on a date. However, my friendship with Shane means that it wouldn’t be right for me to ask you out until I have first obtained his permission.”
“That’s pretty decent of you. Don’t you think you should ask me first, though? What if I say no?”
“Then you say no. Still, even asking would be wrong if I hadn’t first spoken to Shane,” Chad reiterated.
“I’m with you on that part, and I get it. One thing that confuses me, though. If all you want to do is ask me out after you square things with Shane, why the match?”
This time, it was Chad who looked confused. “Angela, you are a fierce, relentless, powerful warrior. I would never presume to court you without first proving I was strong enough to fight on your level.”
“Well . . . I guess I’ll see you Friday, then.” Angela turned away to conceal a smile that refused to stay suppressed. You could say a lot of things about Chad Taylor—he was strange, he was socially ignorant, he could be so blind to what was in front of him that it bordered on a mental disorder—but there was also something she considered wonderful about him. Chad was a warrior, and he respected her as one too. That meant he got her in a way so very few people did.
Instead of heading home, Angela angled her car toward the Lander campus. Friday was only a week away, and she had training to do.
31.
The candles gave off a subtle, soothing smell, one that said sandalwood on the label, but that Mary had no way of verifying. What was a sandalwood? How would she even know what one smelled like in the first place? Maybe they just chopped up a bunch of pine cones and ground them into candle wax, calling it whatever they wanted. That would be a pretty good racket. Heck, the candles had been four dollars apiece. Pine cones couldn’t cost that much.
“Focus,” Mary muttered, chastising herself and her wandering mind.
From her stereo came the soothing sounds of monks, vocalizing an ancient hymn meant to bring one closer to enlightenment. Credit where it was due, they were pretty good. Mary couldn’t remember ever hearing a bad singing monk, though. Was it just a byproduct of monkhood that one gained a great singing voice? Or maybe they had auditions before one got in. “Great, great, you want enlightenment, but I’ll need to hear you belt out some show tunes before we let you in.” Were there scouts out there scouring the vocal talents of a new generation and recruiting them to top-notch monasteries?
“Stop wandering,” she said, gritting her teeth in frustration.
When Professor Stone had told her meditation was a good way to sharpen her focus and improve her mental state, Mary had thought it would be easy. Unfortunately, it turned out clearing one’s mind was far more difficult than she’d expected. Perhaps she just had too much going on up there. Those people who meditated easily . . . Mary would bet they didn’t have entire teams of former Powereds to look after, or HCP trials to prepare for. Who could meditate with so much on their plate? Just getting to sleep should count as accomplishment enough. Maybe she could apply for a medal or somethi—
“Damn it!” Mary yelled, hopping up from the pillow she’d been sitting on at the realization that her mind had wandered yet again. A few seconds later, there was a knock on her door.
“Everything okay in there?” Alice asked through the wood barrier.
“Not really,” Mary grumbled. She opened the door telekinetically, allowing her fellow dormmate entry. Alice walked in with a Physics book under her arm, which struck Mary as curious. To her knowledge, Alice had finish
ed out her science credits last year. Before she could ask about the choice of recreational reading, Alice said something first.
“Your room smells nice. Is that sandalwood?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Mary said, sitting down on her bed in exasperation. “Sorry, I’m frustrated. Professor Stone has me trying meditation, and it turns out I’m awful at it.”
“Why do you need to meditate? Oh, let me guess, telepath thing?” Alice helped herself to a seat in Mary’s computer chair, dropping her book on the desk and turning her full attention to the smaller girl.
“In a way, I guess,” Mary replied. “I’ve been working on my ability to go into people’s minds when they’re in a trance state, like I did with Vince. Since I needed to be put under too for it to work, Professor Stone thought learning to get myself to a similar mental state would let me go in under my own power.”
“Makes sense,” Alice concurred. “I never really gave much thought to your ability to do that. I guess I just assumed all telepaths could do it.”
Mary shook her head. “Very few of us, actually. Turns out I got a rare talent. From what Professor Stone said, it’s even rarer than her memory ability.”
“What memory ability?”
Mary faltered for a moment. Though everyone knew Nick’s memories had been wiped, only she was aware that it was one of their professors who had done the deed. In theory, knowing who had done it shouldn’t make a difference, however, that emotional wound was still quite raw for many of them, and she saw no benefit in giving them a place to direct their pain. It seemed safer to stick with the story Professor Stone didn’t mind letting people know.
“She has this skill where she can pull up a willing person’s memories and see them. I think the other person re-experiences them too, so it’s got to be useful for helping people recall important details and that sort of thing. Even if I’m wrong, I guess she can just relay the information they need.”
Alice’s eyes widened noticeably. “She can show people their own memories? Even things they struggle recalling?”
“Pretty sure that’s how it works,” Mary confirmed. “I’ve never really gone in depth with her on it, though maybe doing so would shed some more light on my ability.”
“You should do that,” Alice said, eyes still larger than normal.
Mary was certain something was going on in her blonde friend’s head. She was tempted to peek inside and see what it was, but she decided against it. Alice was her friend, and she trusted Mary. Overhearing things when generally listening was unavoidable, but digging through her mind just to satisfy curiosity was a step further than Mary was willing to go. Whatever Alice was thinking, she would share it with Mary in her own time.
“Have you tried moving into someone’s dream yet?” Alice asked, interrupting Mary’s thoughts.
“Not yet. I haven’t gotten my own mental state under control, so there wouldn’t be much point in bringing in someone else.”
“It sort of seems like you’re overlooking another option,” Alice pointed out.
“Do tell, because I am desperate for ideas.”
“Well, Rich put us into what could be considered very intense, pre-determined dreams. You know what else induces a dream-like state? Sleep.”
“I see. So you think I should try to enter a person’s mind while we’re both sleeping normally? I’m not sure how I’d make my sleeping-self do that.”
“You didn’t do it intentionally the first time, did you? Why not give it a shot and see if your natural impulses take over? I’m sure Hershel wouldn’t object to sharing his bed with you. For training, of course.” Alice flashed Mary a savage grin punctuated by a theatrical wink.
Mary suddenly felt a large sense of empathy for Camille, as the blush brightening her face reached all the way to her ears.
“We haven’t . . . I’m not . . . that would—”
“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” Alice said. “How about me instead? I can sleep in your room this weekend, and we’ll tie our hands together or something so we’re in constant contact.”
“That would actually be a big help,” Mary said. “Are you sure you want to do that, though? I don’t know how much I will or won’t see of your subconscious once I’m in there.”
Alice gave a shrug and picked up her book. “You’re already bouncing around my head freely anyway. Besides, if it helps you, then it’s worth it. Given what we know Globe pulled during Vince’s dream, having someone else who can enter heads might just end up making a big difference somewhere down the line.”
“Friday it is, then,” Mary said.
“I’ll pack my makeup kit and sleeping bag,” Alice replied.
32.
“Do you have a moment to talk?”
Shane stopped walking and turned to his friend, who was standing off to the side, out of the way of the students exiting class. This was unusual. Normally, Chad went right to the gym after Close Combat was concluded, getting in some extra training time before his afternoon class. Today, however, he remained unmoving as the other gray-uniformed students made their way out the door.
“Sure,” Shane said, walking over to his friend. “What’s going on?”
The upside to the diminishing size of their class meant it didn’t take long for the room to empty out, but Chad did wait until the last person had crossed the door’s threshold and could be heard walking down the hall before speaking again.
“I must confess, I am somewhat unsure about how to proceed with this conversation.”
“Knowing you, I’d say just blurt it out. That’s what you’ll probably do anyway,” Shane advised.
Chad had to admit, that made good sense. “I was recently made to realize that I have romantic feelings for your sister, Angela.”
Shane resisted the urge to point out that he only had one sister, and therefore didn’t need the extra bit of clarification. But getting annoyed with Chad for being overly precise was akin to getting mad at a dog for chasing a ball. Some things were just bred into one’s nature. Instead, Shane motioned for him to continue.
“I would like to ask her on a date, pending the results of our upcoming match, of course. Though I do realize this is not a socially ideal situation, I also realize that I’m unlikely to meet many other women who compare to her, and this seems like a worthwhile effort,” Chad said.
“So, what do you want from me? Advice on what flowers to get her? Because the answer is none, that’s not her thing,” Shane replied.
Chad did not shuffle or look away, but he managed to convey a look of discomfort all the same. Maybe it was the eyes. Shane suspected that, after two years of friendship with a person whose facial expressions were totally controlled, he’d become an expert at reading the minor emotions discernible from Chad’s eyes.
“I’m sorry; I think I failed to make my point clear. I did say I wasn’t sure how to do this,” Chad reminded him. “What I’m asking for is your permission to ask her out.”
“Angela’s a grown woman, Chad, you don’t need my permission to date her,” Shane said.
“Maybe I’m still asking it wrong.” Chad sighed, a bare flutter of frustration flickering over his face. “Years of ignoring all this stuff have left me woefully underprepared for it. I want your assurance, I think, that this doesn’t bother you, and that it won’t damage our friendship.”
“What if I said it would?”
“Then I wouldn’t ask her out, obviously,” Chad replied. “I like Angela very much, but you’re my friend. Honestly, you’re the first real friend I’ve ever had. I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes, and I get that my relentless dedication to training leaves other parts of my personality lacking. But for two years, we’ve managed to maintain a good friendship in an environment constantly pitting us against one another. I will not be the one who decides to end that.”
Shane, unlike Chad, was still a slave to his unconscious reactions, so the surprise he felt was evident on his face. That had been quite a statement, es
pecially from someone like Chad. He’d been clumsy about getting to the point of all this, but now that they’d arrived, Shane found it hard to find much reason for objection. Hell, if anything, Shane should probably take this as inspiration to put some effort into his own social life. It would be somewhat embarrassing to be the guy dating less than Chad Taylor.
“I’m fine with it,” Shane said, after a moment’s consideration. “I’d say don’t hurt her, but truthfully, I think it’s way more likely that she’ll be the one to damage you. Be careful, at least. And don’t give me any damn details. That would be creepy.”
“Those are things I can do.”
“Good.” A rogue, unbidden thought popped into Shane’s head, one that he seized on immediately. “You said you have a match coming up, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I planned to fight her before asking her out.”
“I figured as much, which weirds me out because it means I actually understand your way of thinking,” Shane said, resisting the urge to laugh at this somewhat serious moment. “Have you requested the room yet?”
“Not yet. Speaking with you was my first concern.”
“Sentiment appreciated,” Shane said. “This is my last condition: I want you to request a cell that allows for outsiders to watch the fight.”
“Ah, I understand, you wish to observe our match out of concern,” Chad surmised. “Perfectly reasonable, and I have no objection.”
“Good, but you’re wrong on the reason. I’m telling you to do that because I want the rest of our class to watch the fight,” Shane corrected.
Chad’s head tilted slightly to the side. “I must confess, I don’t understand the reasoning for that.”
“Didn’t expect you would. I know you don’t pay attention to rumor and gossip, but ever since last year’s final match, there’s been a bit of an undercurrent of curiosity in our class. They watched Vince send you flying across the arena, not knowing that you landed perfectly intact. Some folks are wondering if it’s possible that his growing powers mean he could now be stronger than you. I don’t begrudge him a little glory from that punch; however, I feel it’s gotten a bit out of hand.”