Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “She told me how she felt before break, told me to take my time sorting out my own feelings. Camille hasn’t pushed the issue, but I’ve felt strange around her ever since, like the more I see her, the more she’ll expect an answer.”

  “From your laser-vision a few seconds ago, I bet I could put in a pretty good wager about how you feel,” Lacey replied.

  “Yeah . . . I do like Camille. She’s smart, tough, courageous; she’s amazing. But I also have this . . . ex from a long time ago. I’ve been trying to get over her for years. In fact, I think my feelings for her soured my last relationship. I was making good progress, but then she popped back up a few months ago, and now I don’t know what I feel. I just . . . it doesn’t seem right to drag Camille into this if I’m not sure about my feelings. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Let me ask you something, does our hostess know about any of this? Like, at all?” Lacey brushed a rogue hair out of her face, knocking her mask slightly askew, which she immediately readjusted. Brenda was a cool boss, but she was harsh about keeping in costume.

  “All of it. I’ve known her for years now, and I tell her pretty much everything.” Vince chanced a quick glance toward their only customer, who was still slowly putting down the soup, spoonful after spoonful.

  “Just making sure.” Lacey reached toward Vince’s face, as though she were about to straighten his hair. At the last minute, she pressed her middle finger to her thumb and flicked Vince directly in the nose.

  “Ouch!” Vince grabbed the wounded appendage as his eyes reflexively watered. “What the heck?”

  “Stop being a big dumb-dumb. If the girl likes you, complications and all, then it’s not your job to protect her from bad outcomes. She’s an adult. She can make her own choices about the risks she’s willing to take, and it sounds like she’s decided you’re worth it. Not sure I get why, but we all have our own tastes.”

  “But—”

  “No. No buts. Feelings are messy. If you’re waiting around for the perfect situation, where no one has anything on the line, then you’re going to die alone and probably with a massively swollen forearm. Newsflash: every relationship a person has ends in failure, save for one. Maybe two if you count getting remarried after they kick off, but the point is, we all go in with a ninety-whatever percent failure rate. It’s just like when you were learning this job; you screwed things up until you started getting them right. If you really want the girl, and she still wants you even knowing the score, then you’re not holding back out of goodness or decency. You’re doing it out of fear.”

  Vince rubbed his nose as Lacey finished her speech, topping it off with the same wide smile she used to greet the customers. “You might have a point,” he admitted after a few minutes.

  “See, I told the other trainers you were teachable.” Lacey patted him on the arm and glanced at the lone table. “I’m going to go get the water pitcher and top off Mr. Soup. You do whatever you think is best.”

  Vince watched her head off toward the back, still momentarily dumbfounded at the harsh truths she’d laid on him. Lacey might not be able to run faster than a car, or lift a bus, but she definitely had knowledge and skills that he was lacking in. And if there was one thing that life at Lander had taught him, it was to accept lessons wherever they came from. He turned and walked down the carpet, past the other sections, arriving at the hostess stand facing the empty lobby.

  “I can’t give you the next table,” Camille said, glancing up from a dry-erase diagram of the restaurant. “There are way too many others ahead of you.”

  “Actually, I think we’re getting cut soon anyway,” Vince said. “But that wasn’t what I came over for. I wanted to tell you that Alex and Hershel are putting together this big outing in a couple of weeks for a movie premiere. It’s going to be fun, I think, and I’d really like it if you came along.”

  “Sure, I’ll pitch the idea to Thomas and Violet,” Camille replied.

  “That’s great, and they’re more than welcome to join us. Just know, though, I really want you to come. I . . . it just won’t be the same if you’re not there.”

  “Oh.” Camille turned back to her menus and diagram, willing herself not to turn into a tomato. “Yeah. Count me in.”

  168.

  Alice took a deep breath, emptying her mind of stress, fear, and expectations. That last one was the most difficult, given what she was here to do, but she hadn’t spent the last few months working on meditation training with Mary for nothing. She tried to push at the boundaries of her mind, opening up the pathways. According to the texts they’d read, this was supposed to “open one up to the cosmic energies of the universe,” which she took to be new-age bullshit. It did, however, make it easier for someone with mental powers to access her mind, and that was something she very much wanted to achieve.

  She felt the presence on the outskirts of her mind; it took willpower to not reflexively shove it away. This one had a different sensation than Mary’s entrances, which had grown so familiar during their training that the two barely had to work at it anymore. No, this was older, stronger, and somehow more distant. Somewhere, in the physical body she’d dulled her awareness of, Professor Stone was still holding her hand, pushing her awareness through the connection between them. For a time—it was impossible to say how long—that was all there was: a lingering presence on the outskirts of her mind.

  Her first hint of change was when she felt a pull coming from somewhere in her memories. Alice’s awareness drifted through them, weaving throughout her first year at Lander, trying not to cringe at the entitled debutante she’d once been. The trip was mercifully short; as she plunged into the second year, she began to slow down. She saw their first meeting as a team, and the scavenger hunt Nick had sent them on. She saw the team trial, felt the surge of pride that had run through her as she grabbed the enemy’s flag. Then it was Halloween, and she was creeping along. The horror house, being separated, and ending up at a table with Nick, Mary, and Rich. Time slowed even more as Rich banged on the table, their eyes turning to his. As she fell into his gaze and the world began to shift, the progress stopped entirely.

  “Are you ready?” Professor Stone asked. She was standing at the edge of the table, a place she hadn’t been the first time around, waiting patiently for Alice to respond.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Professor Stone nodded, and the memory shuddered back into motion. The world fell away in a fog, and then reshaped itself as Alice found she was at a luxurious spa, being waited on hand and foot. She knew this place as soon as she saw it. Not in the way that she’d been there before, just that everything about it somehow felt like home; that fleeting sense one could only capture for a moment upon returning to a familiar place. The entire place practically radiated that sentiment.

  “This is my subconscious core, right?” Alice said. She was watching a different version of herself be pampered—not without a bit of jealousy—amazed at how Past-Alice seemed so unconcerned about the sudden change in her surroundings.

  “By all accounts, that’s where Rich put you all. He stuck you in your home base, somewhere that you’d be safe and happy,” Professor Stone replied.

  “Interesting.” Alice wasn’t at all surprised that her idea of home wasn’t the mansion she’d grown up in—a part of her had always recognized that house for the empty place it was. She wondered if this spa was still what she imagined her mental safe place to be, though. Somehow, she doubted it. After everything in the past year, Alice suspected that if Rich hit her with the same whammy, she’d wind up in the Melbrook common room, surrounded by friends. And maybe a few of the attendants doing pedicures; they were really showing some top-notch work.

  For a time, which was the only thing that could be said about the passing of moments in this place, nothing happened. Then a man stepped from the fog. He wore a well-made suit with no tie, his cocoa-colored skin showing through the open buttons of his shirt. He looked around the area a few times, then approached Al
ice’s chair.

  “My, this is a strange scenario.”

  “I didn’t realize there were any other customers here today. Please, take a seat and join me.” Past-Alice motioned to an open chair, which the stranger took after stepping into her view. The Alice watching all this play out tried not to be too hard on her past self for not thinking this odd; after all, losing a sense of reality was part of Rich’s ability.

  The man introduced himself as Abridail, and accepted a glass of champagne from Past-Alice. He went on to explain that he was a dream-walker, and that he had visited Alice many times before. When he mentioned having a message, Alice felt her nerves tighten and had to force them down. Now, when she was this close, she couldn’t afford to put up any accidental mental walls. She had to see it through, to learn what on earth he’d told her.

  “This message of yours, who is it from, anyway?” Past-Alice asked.

  Abridail drained the last of his champagne in a single gulp. “That’s the part that generally piques your interest in the first place. The truth of it is, I’m here on behalf of your mother.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Past-Alice said. Her eyes drooped a bit, and the attendants rushed over to bring more champagne and comfort. “My mother passed away when I was born.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not true,” Abridail informed her. “Though, I’d agree that your mother isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘living,’ she does still draw breath. And her incapacitation didn’t happen until you were almost a year old.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Past-Alice’s sadness had slipped away, replaced by a quickly mounting anger as she stood. In the distance, Alice and Professor Stone could hear the rumble of thunder. “If my mother were alive, she’d have come for me. Everyone talks about how wonderful and loving she was; she’d have never left me alone. My mother would have found a way to get to me.”

  “My poor, dear child. She did. I am that way.” Abridail didn’t rise to meet Past-Alice’s ire. He stayed seated and calm, like a mountain in the fury of a storm. Past-Alice stared at him for an uncountable moment, then lowered herself back to her seat.

  “Let’s say I believe you. What’s this message supposed to be, anyway?”

  “Your mother wants you to know that she loves you very, very much. She’s proud beyond words at the woman you’ve become, and at what you have the potential to turn into. Shelby loves you every day, and she wants you to know that she doesn’t regret any of it. When you find out the truth, it’s important to her that you know that. She has no regrets. And she doesn’t want you to search for her, if you can help it.”

  “If my mother were alive, why on earth wouldn’t I look for her?” Past-Alice asked.

  “Because, most of the time, when you look, you find her, and that means you uncover the truth.”

  “The truth about—” Past-Alice’s voice crackled into static as the world swirled into fog once more. Slowly, things reshaped around them, turning back into Screamtopia’s lounge area, where Past-Alice was groggily waking up.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me!” Alice yelped, ineffectively trying to shake her past self. “That’s it? That’s all I got? Not a GPS location, or a town, or even the goddamned country she’s in? He gave us nothing!”

  “He told you that your mother loved you and thought of you every day,” Professor Stone said, setting a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is just me, but that seems quite a ways off from nothing.”

  “But I wanted to find her.” Alice let herself lean against the older woman as the anger fell away, replaced by the same knot of emptiness she’d carried since being old enough to realize she was one parent short.

  “Yet, it seems she doesn’t want to be found,” Professor Stone pointed out.

  “I don’t give half a goddamn about whether she wants to be found or not. If my mother is out there, then I’m going to look for her.”

  “Then you’re in luck, Alice. Hunting down the unfindable is one of the skills Subtlety Heroes specialize in. You’ve been getting exactly the training you need to make that possible, so long as you’re following the rules, of course.” Esme Stone allowed one of her own smiles to break through the instructor veneer she wore so expertly. It was a small gesture, but one that Alice didn’t miss.

  “Of course, Professor.”

  169.

  “The man is good; I have to give him that.” Nick rifled through a set of papers, one of countless stacks that were spread across his dining table. There were piles of folders on the ground, smushed into white banker’s boxes that were piled atop one another. Many of these documents were highly sensitive and would have set off a frenzy of activity if people realized they were missing. Fortunately, the originals were still perfectly intact in their respective storage locations. Eliza couldn’t get away with copping constant attitude without being as a valuable an asset as she was.

  “Mid-level grunt on a path to the Senate, then he suddenly changes course and routes himself toward the DVA,” Eliza said. “Once there, he manages to trade favors and schmooze his way up the ladder in only a few years. He definitely knows how to play the game; if he hadn’t switched goals, he might very well be in that Senate seat by now.”

  “Instead, he’s personally indicted no less than eighteen Heroes on reckless endangerment charges, and managed to get the sentences for several others ratcheted up beyond what was originally proposed.” Nick folded his current stack shut and set it on the table. “Despite the fact we make a living from illegal activities, I’m pretty sure this guy loathes Heroes even more than we do.”

  “It’s not like Heroes come busting down the casino doors or anything. Long as we keep the violence to a minimum, they aren’t much of an issue,” Eliza pointed out. “But yeah, this guy hates them with some kind of passion.”

  “Obviously, it’s tied to losing his daughters,” Jerome added. He’d been reading through the files slowly and methodically, the way he approached every task given to him.

  “Clearly. His career jump occurred only days after Raze accidentally destroyed the San Witmer bridge. My guess is he thought the DVA revoking Raze’s Hero Certification wasn’t harsh enough, and he decided to take an active hand in keeping other Heroes in line,” Nick said.

  “Didn’t Raze go off the reservation anyway?” Eliza dropped a manila folder onto the stack already accrued at her feet. It landed with an audible thud, which would have made a room of people with less self-control jump. Instead, Nick merely rolled his eyes.

  “That’s the official story. He refused to take the punishment, destroyed the building he was in, and went into hiding. Since then, there’s only been sporadic sightings here and there.”

  “The official story? You say that like you think there might be something else.” Eliza cocked an eyebrow. Something about Nicholas still seemed off to her, but as long as the job was done, she didn’t plan on pushing the issue. Besides, he’d given her leeway when she decided to stay on the job despite discovering Vince was nearby. The least she could do was show him a little trust in return. For the moment, anyway.

  “Let’s just say that I’m not inclined to take anything I read about The Class of Legends at face value,” Nick replied. “Too many secrets; too many mysteries. For all I know, that could be the case with every Hero ever to don a mask, but it’s at least true with those ten. At any rate, they aren’t our problem right now. The grief-crazed father bent on tearing down as many Heroes as possible is, given that he’s set his sights on my . . . asset.”

  Vince was, of course, far more than that to Nick, which was precisely why the pretense of detachment was necessary. Neither Eliza nor Jerome were particularly adept at putting pressure on someone’s most vulnerable spots, but they were perfectly capable of making reports to Ms. Pips. Having things he cared about, especially outside the Family, made them a weakness that could be targeted. His Lander friends were powerful, but they’d never be prepared for the sort of attacks Ms. Pips would use against them. They were all too inn
ocent, too decent. That was why Nick had to be the one who kept them safe from the things that lurked in the dark.

  “Here’s what I don’t get: Globe shouldn’t be too high on Chapman’s list in the first place,” Eliza said. “Sure, he killed his teammate, but the rest of his team immediately tried to kill him in response. When he popped up again, it was a surprise to everyone. Based on his record, Chapman usually goes after Heroes who got off light, or who he thinks will only get slapped on the wrist due to their popularity. Neither of those cases applies to Globe, so I don’t know why he’s got such a hate-boner for the guy, let alone for his son.”

  “My working theory is that he harbors a grudge against The Class of Legends as a whole, since it was Raze who destroyed the bridge that killed his daughters, but I have to admit, that’s a bit thin,” Nick said. “Perhaps he sees the amount of destruction Vince could cause and wants to stop him before he ever gets the chance.”

  Eliza snorted, shaking her head and sending her dark curls sailing through the air. “If that’s really his game plan, then this guy is a lot stupider than I would have expected.”

  “How so?” Nick asked. He agreed with her assessment wholeheartedly, but was curious to know the reason why Eliza had formed it.

  “Taking Vince out of the program just robs him of the opportunity to get his power under control. It won’t stop him from using it.”

  “Non-Hero Supers getting involved in stopping criminal ones is a serious crime, especially if other people are hurt or property is damaged,” Jerome pointed out.

  “And Vince will completely understand that, right up until he actually sees someone in trouble. As soon as that happens, he’ll jump in, and no laws or regulations are going to stop him.” Eliza glanced out the window, looking at the Lander campus that was only a few blocks away. “That big moron can’t help himself, even when he really should.”