by Drew Hayes
“It sounds as though the experience made you feel free to start truly testing what your powers could do.” This much, Dr. Moran had been able to figure out from the way Vince was conducting himself in battle; the real victory was in getting him to say it out loud.
“It did. This was the first time I’d thrown everything I had at something and not managed to win. It was impossibly frustrating at first, but eventually, I realized that because I’d been able to do that, I hadn’t really been training my abilities, not like everyone else. My only strategy had been to fight hand-to-hand, or throw energy all over the place. Learning to actually use my ability . . . I guess it made me less afraid of it.”
“That tends to happen with most things in life,” Dr. Moran said. “We fear the unknown, in the world and in ourselves, but once we’ve faced something, and learned about it, that is when fear gives way, and we find a new sense of control.”
“Sort of makes me regret how long I spent trying to avoid using my abilities in the first place.”
“Then I’d advise you take the lesson you learned and apply it to other things in your life,” Dr. Moran said. “Don’t always shy away from things that confuse or scare you; face them head on. Unlike your abilities, they may not always be there, and instead of regretting wasted time, you’ll have to look back on missed opportunities.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vince said. His body had spread out once more, but the look in his eyes had grown distant. Clearly, her words had provoked a train of thought in his head; one she could make a fairly educated guess on the content of.
“At any rate, we have a little time left before your session is over. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? Perhaps the situation you told me about with your former lover, Eliza?”
The tips of Vince’s ears went slightly red, a controlled blush that nonetheless told Dr. Moran she’d hit close to her mark. After coming clean about the whole story with Eliza, Vince had pointedly refrained from talking about her again. Her . . . and the other woman her presence had created a conflict with.
“No, nothing new on—” Vince stopped himself mid-sentence, then started again. “Nothing I feel up to talking about.”
“That’s perfectly all right, Vince. We’ll get there whenever you’re ready.” She had to hand it to him; he’d been doing a much better job of acknowledging subjects he was avoiding, instead of just pretending there was nothing to discuss. The boy was honest to a fault, and now, he was starting to turn some of that truthfulness inward.
Dr. Moran couldn’t guarantee that Vince would make it through the program, nor did she consider it her job to do so. All she could hope for was that Vince could face his future with a well-adjusted mind, and that she damn sure intended to help him with.
165.
Jerome and Eliza sat patiently as they waited for Nick to finish making himself a drink. He refused to talk about where he’d been, and despite their best efforts, he’d managed to slip every tracker and bit of surveillance they’d stuck on his person. This wasn’t especially shocking; while Eliza and Jerome had been living this life for many years, Nick was born into it. He’d been training since he could crawl, and he’d taken to the lifestyle like an alcoholic to free whiskey. Even when he was a Powered, he was still one of the most skilled and terrifying people in the state. No, it was not shocking that he was able to ditch them when he wanted.
What was surprising was how utterly glib he insisted on being about the whole thing. He should have been clucking his tongue and making them feel inferior for their lacking skills. Instead, he’d come home in a cheery mood and gone right to the liquor cabinet, breaking out a bottle of high quality gin.
“I don’t suppose you’ll actually tell us where you were,” Eliza said, talking loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.
“Clandestine meeting with beings of immense power about dealing with a conspiracy that might reach back several decades.” Nick poked his head from around the corner and rolled his eyes. “Where do you think I was? I went to go do some surveillance on Nathaniel and didn’t want you two bungling things up by tagging along.”
“We’re more than capable of staying unseen,” Jerome said.
“Just like you’re capable of keeping a tail on someone, or anticipating a surprise attack in the parking lot?” Nick walked out of the kitchen with his freshly prepared drink in hand. “Sorry. kiddos, but sometimes Daddy has to run the big boy errands and doesn’t have time to babysit.”
Eliza watched their “boss” as he took a seat on the couch and propped his feet up on the table. He was different. He had been, ever since that whole sleeping for a day and then vanishing fiasco. At first, she’d wondered if he’d been compromised, mentally taken over by some previously undiscovered type of Super who could actually control brains. His meeting with Ms. Pips had put that worry to bed, though. Surrogate mother or not, she’d have sniffed out whether he was compromised and put a bullet right in his forehead. But Ms. Pips still trusted him, which made the change in demeanor more odd than worrying.
“So tell us, oh Great One, what did you manage to find out?” Eliza asked.
“Nathaniel has sown fields of information that all point to him being holed up in a suite at the Merida downtown. This is, unsurprisingly, false. He’s actually in a room at the Twin Clouds hotel.” Nick pulled a small card from his pocket and tossed it unceremoniously onto the table. “That’s the address, but neither of you is allowed to go near it. Instead, I want a surveillance routine established for watching the Merida. I want him to think he’s got us fooled.”
“And all the while, we let him do as he please, free from observation. This seems like inviting another ambush,” Jerome said.
“Relax, I took care of it,” Nick said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “From what I can see, Nathaniel is still a few weeks away from making any moves, which makes him our secondary priority.”
Eliza kept her eyes leveled at Nick as he did his best to appear unruffled by her and Jerome’s visible scrutiny. Less than a week. That’s how long they’d been back at Lander, and in that time, Nick had already found the location where Nathaniel was hiding. Last semester, it had taken the better part of a month with all three of them working hard. Now, he was claiming to have knocked it out in a few days, and was acting like it was no big deal. Demeanor changes were one thing, but it was impossible for him to have turned that much more competent in the span of only a few weeks. No, the only thing that could account for such a shift in capabilities was the acquisition of new resources. He’d gotten his hands on something, or someone, that made the job a whole lot easier, and Eliza could make a few guesses about what.
“If Nathaniel isn’t our priority, what the hell is taking his place?” Eliza asked.
“Why, something you’ll be able to get on board wholeheartedly with,” Nick replied. “Revenge.”
“I like what you’re selling, but given the business we’re in, you’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Eliza said.
“Of course. Last semester, someone had the unmitigated gall to try and spy on us— someone who isn’t even part of the world we live in. I don’t know about you, but I take a bit of offense to that. The very idea that we could be so easily watched and catalogued, it’s downright disrespectful,” Nick said. “Of course, when you add in the fact that they were trying to drum up information on a man who could be a terrific asset for us, as well as being Eliza’s former hook-up, it takes on a whole new dimension of aggravating.”
“Nicholas, you heard Smitt’s words, just like us. The man who gave him orders works for the government—the Department of Variant Human Affairs, at that. Given what all of us are, and our ties to Vegas, is this really an enemy we should be going up against?” Jerome was accustomed to being the voice of reason amidst the hot-headed tempers that permeated a crime syndicate. He’d always had a knack for staying detached from what was happening in the moment, focusing on the big picture win instead.
“If we were going ag
ainst the DVA, then you’d be dead-on,” Nick agreed. “But Chapman hired Smitt on the side; he stepped out from his official role in the department. Whatever the repercussions are, he’ll either have to deal with them on his own, or tank his career by admitting to shady dealings. In this case, the repercussions are us.”
“I’m happy as anyone to see that asshole go down, but do you have a plan?” Eliza asked.
“I have steps in mind,” Nick said. “And the first of those is research. Find out everything you can about Ralph Chapman. The full work-up: friends, family, vices, weaknesses, everything. If he cries during romantic comedies, I want to know what scenes make him teary.”
“Give me a week.” Normally, Eliza would have bucked against the plan more, for show, if nothing else, but she could still remember seeing Vince’s picture tucked inside that folder, still remember the anger she felt when she realized who they were going after. If the target was someone after Vince, she was all in. “Just promise me you’re not going easy on this guy.”
“Of course not,” Nick assured her. “There’s a precise method to this sort of thing. We identify a person’s weaknesses, then we put pressure on those spots until they give in. Or, alternatively, until they break. In this case, either outcome suits me just fine.”
166.
The first Friday of the new semester found an unusual number of students in the Melbrook dorm. From the moment class let out, Hershel, Alex, and Chad had gathered in the living room with large rolls of fabric, and sewing machines checked out from the costuming department of the drama club. No one asked Alex how he’d managed to procure them, and he didn’t volunteer the answer, so it was left unaddressed, even if Hershel did throw curious glances at him from time to time.
The other residents of the dormitory filtered in more slowly; Vince arriving first, then Mary, and finally Alice. Vince only paused to throw his backpack in his room, then joined the others to start helping out. Though he had minimal skills, he was able to do some basic assisting that made the work easier on the others. Mary took one look at the scene before her and headed to her room. She knew she was getting roped into this eventually—that was one of the prices of a relationship—but there was no way she was volunteering to get involved before she had to.
Alice looked on with dismissive curiosity when she first got home, and it seemed like she’d be following in Mary’s footsteps as she went into her room. After fifteen minutes, though, she emerged, book in hand, and began reading on the living room couch. A keen observer would have noted that her eyes frequently left the page to stare at the four boys working, and that the pages in front of her were rarely flipped. She kept up this façade for a solid half hour before finally giving in and speaking.
“Okay, explain to me why you have to dress up to go see a movie?”
“We don’t have to. We’re doing it because it’s fun.” Alex didn’t glance over at her as he spoke, his attention rapt on the line of seams he was currently sewing into a garishly bright, red material.
“Right, but why? What does dressing like a” —Alice looked at the most completed costume, a green and yellow ensemble that Hershel was outfitting with sequins— “I’m guessing space hooker, what does that bring to the experience? Wouldn’t you rather just go watch the show in normal, comfortable clothing?”
“When you go to a nice restaurant, you dress up, don’t you?” Hershel said.
“Sure, but that’s because it’s expected when you go into a place like that.” Alice set her book down on the couch, not even bothering to try and save her place.
“That’s true for most people, but you’re super rich. You could walk in wearing a potato sack, and they’d serve you,” Hershel pointed out. “But even putting your status aside, aren’t there days when you get up a little early and really go the extra mile to look more put-together?”
“There used to be a lot more, before all my weekdays entailed hours of training and exercise,” Alice sighed. “I still do it on weekends occasionally though, so yes.”
“Well, there you go.” Hershel finished the sequin pattern he was working on and rotated the fabric around, starting on a new section. “Dressing pretty doesn’t technically add anything to your day; you do it because you enjoy it, and you like how it makes you feel. For us, showing up at an event like this in really good costumes makes us feel good, and maybe a little bit admired. There is no greater point. It’s just fun.”
“To his credit, after being informed of this tradition I did some independent research, and it does indeed seem to be a widespread, if somewhat niche, practice.” Chad was stitching on a shield-shaped patch as he spoke, his needle moving in precise, unerring motions. He didn’t have Hershel’s flair, but the young Super had already proven himself capable of producing quality product. “As I have not yet participated, I cannot validate his claims of it being fun; however, there do seem to be enough documented cases to make it a viable opinion.”
“If nothing else, I’m enjoying working with everyone on the outfits,” Vince added.
Alice stared at them for a moment, savoring the ridiculousness of the scene before her. These four boys represented some of the most powerful people in various classes at Lander. Between them, there was enough raw, destructive force to tear apart a city if left unchecked, and yet, here they were, sewing together costumes to wear to a movie premiere. It was enough to make her laugh, until she remembered that there was also a fearsome gravity manipulator sitting on the couch watching them. Was this what the Hero world was like? Bouts of danger interspersed with a ridiculously mundane daily-life? Somehow, she doubted it. Angela was probably right. Once they left Lander, they entered the real world, and it probably wouldn’t be so kind a place as to let them play dress-up for movie showings.
“When are we going to watch these things, anyway?” Alice rose from the sofa and walked over to where Alex had set down his binder of designs.
“It almost sounded like you said ‘we’ for a minute there,” Hershel replied, making an effort to mask the grin on his face.
“That’s because I did, smartass. If you two love these movies this much, then I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“We’re going to have a viewing night in three weeks, so you should try to ask off from work soon,” Vince told her. “It’ll be at Nick’s apartment. Alex and Hershel made all kinds of threats about what they’d do if he tried to turn it into a horror movie marathon instead.”
“After some convincing, I talked Shane and Angela into joining us as well,” Chad added. “Though, only Shane required being talked into joining.”
Alice snorted under her breath. It would probably take the combined might of everyone to keep Nick in line, and the movies on track. That thought—the idea of bickering with the real Nick, her Nick—filled her with more joy than she’d expected.
“Has anyone roped Mary into this yet?” Alice asked.
“She’s been avoiding us every time it comes up,” Hershel said.
“Well, leave it to me. If I’m going to spend a weekend night watching old sci-fi movies, Mary is damn sure going to be there to share my pain.”
“Want us to make you a costume?” Alex asked, finally looking up from his task.
“Let’s not go overboard; I just agreed to watch the movies. That’s all.” Despite her words, Alice kept on flipping through the design book, taking note of a few outfits that didn’t look entirely horrible. She already knew that, eventually, she would probably cave and join them, but that didn’t mean she was giving in easy.
Especially not until she’d forced Mary to jump on board too.
167.
Supper with Supers was slow, business not yet having picked up from the winter break. Sizable as the town was, losing tens of thousands of students who made the pilgrimage home to visit family inevitably led to a downturn in business. It would take a few weeks to pick back up as people settled back in, and there would be a nice boost on Valentine’s Day as last-minute diners realized all the fan
cier restaurants were already booked. Once spring hit, things would be fully back in swing, and over summer, there would be ample business from children out on summer vacation. None of which changed the fact that, on the first weekend back from break, there were only four tables sat throughout the entire restaurant.
“Brenda says that if we don’t get anyone in the next half hour, you and I are cut,” Lacey told Vince. They were paired together in a section of the restaurant, one with a single elderly man steadfastly slurping down a bowl of soup.
“Huh?” Vince blinked and quickly looked at the senior server, trying in vain to hide the fact that he’d been spacing out. “Oh, we’re cut already?”
“No, I said we will be in half an hour, if we don’t get sat.” Lacey followed the path his eyes had been set on and noticed they were directed right at the hostess stand, where Camille was organizing the menus for what had to be the fourth time this shift. “But way more interesting than that: you were checking out the hostess, weren’t you?”
“I . . . no, that would be . . . improper . . .” Even if the fumbled words didn’t give him away, the panic in Vince’s eyes would have certainly keyed Lacey into the truth.
“Relax, I’m not going to tell her or anything. Hell, I’m just glad to see you finally take an interest in someone. You know Brooklyn has been trying to test you out for a couple of months now. For a while, we thought you swung the other way, but you didn’t respond to Juan’s advances either, and that guy is smoking.”
“I don’t entirely understand what you’re getting at, and I have a sneaking suspicion I’m happier that way,” Vince said.
“Proving that you’re smarter than that costume makes you look. So, the hostess is your type, huh? Short, smart, shy, quiet; I can see where a lug like you would go for that. Think she digs you back?”
“I know she does.” Vince was as surprised as Lacey to hear the words come out. He’d held back on talking about it with the others, even with Dr. Moran, because, in the scope of everything else they dealt with, it just seemed so ridiculous a thing to worry over. With Lacey, it was different. She was mundane, and so was this issue. It didn’t seem so crazy to open up to her.