by Drew Hayes
Alice had no idea how long she’d been there when she felt her awareness snap back. She found herself standing at a free-weight rack, dumbbell in each hand, and suddenly, she knew what was happening. Rich had put her under, dropping her into her subconscious, and she had begun doing some light training while planning a post work-out massage. There had been no slow realization, no gentle journey to retaking control of her consciousness. That alone told Alice that breaking partially out of the delusion wasn’t her doing, which could only mean one thing: she was not alone in her mind.
Slowly, she lowered the dumbbells back onto the rack and turned toward the central area of her spa. There he was, just as he’d been in her memories: dark skin, gentle eyes, and a strangely self-assured smile as he helped himself to a smoothie from the juice bar. He met her gaze without wavering, though an expression of curiosity did twinkle in his eyes.
“You’ve gotten much more self-aware since last year. Even when we talked last time, you weren’t fully aware of your circumstances. Now, I barely get a foot in the door, and you’ve snapped to full consciousness.”
“That’s the thing about us Hero Certification folks: we’re always getting stronger.” For a moment, Alice searched for a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow. Then she realized where she was, and moments later, she was as clean as if she’d freshly showered and was dressed in her Lander HCP uniform. She’d only wanted something familiar; something that made her feel safe, but that was what her gym clothes had metamorphosed into. The significance was far from lost on her, just as it was immediately filed away for later contemplation. Alice had more pressing issues to deal with.
“Quite a quick change. Few people are so adept at controlling their dream worlds.”
“I’ve got a friend who’s taken me on more than one mental journey.” Alice crossed the room in few steps, too few in fact, and stopped inches away from her guest. “Abridail, wasn’t it? That’s the fake name you use while invading people’s minds.”
“Our first meeting was an invasion, I’ll admit that,” Abridail replied. “I had a message to deliver, and doing so took priority over certain formalities I might usually observe. This time, however, I took your current state as an invitation. This level of the subconscious is quite difficult to reach; I assumed you’d come here hoping for another chat. I deeply regret the misunderstanding, and I will take my leave.” Abridail set his smoothie down and rose from his bar stool, pausing only to give a shallow bow to Alice.
“Wait!” The word left her mouth before Alice’s brain was even considered for input. “I’m . . . sorry. It’s a little jarring to suddenly have someone in my head. I didn’t do this to intentionally invite you, but I’d like to talk with you, now that you’re here. I have so many questions, and you might be the only person in the world with the answers.”
“No, Alice. There are several others in the world who know at least part of the information you’re after, though you are correct in that I am the only one who knows every piece of the story. It took me quite a long while to follow all of the strings to their sources, but I was blessed with an abundance of free time.” Abridail raised his head from the bow and met Alice’s gaze once again. “Though there is also a great divide in what I know, and I what I can divulge.”
“Why? Why won’t you just tell me what happened to my mother?” Alice did not, would not plead, but neither did she demand. Abridail was here at his own discretion; she could no more force him to answer her than she could keep him in this place if he chose to leave. Diplomacy was the single weapon in her arsenal, and she was determined to wield it carefully.
“Partly because she doesn’t want you to find her, and as a dear friend, I will honor her wishes, but also because telling you the whole story would change the world as you fundamentally know it, and that is not a thing I would do to someone lightly.”
“I . . . I can’t say I understand, since I clearly don’t, but I’ll respect your conditions.” Alice could all but feel Professor Pendleton whispering from her memories.
“Not every interrogation involves torture and threats. Sometimes, getting information is as simple as keeping a conversation going until something slips.”
“So, what can you tell me? There must be something; you wouldn’t have accepted what you perceived to be an invitation otherwise.” Alice took a seat at one of the unoccupied stools around the juice bar, and then motioned to an attendant. An instant later, a strawberry and champagne concoction was being set down before her. “How about we start with your name? Why use a fake one? It’s not as though others can hurt you in here.”
“Perhaps not, but there is a world outside of dreams, after all. While I am not a Hero, I do share their enjoyment of anonymity.”Abridail sat back down next to Alice and picked up his own smoothie. In the time his hand closed around it, the drink went from being half empty to completely topped off. Alice noted this, but made no mention of it. Her time with Mary had already shown her that some dream-walkers could control the world just as much as the dream’s owner.
“Let’s go with something a bit deeper this time,” Alice said, giving Abridail warning so he could begin considering responses.
“Show as much civility and warning as you can when you ask about the subjects you don’t need answered. That way, you can catch them all the more off guard during the important questions.”
“You were the one who escorted Globe into Vince’s dream, right? Or was that just a lie that he told Mary?”
“No, Globe spoke the truth,” Abridail confirmed. “He almost always does. I’m guessing your next question is going to be why I would do such a thing, right?”
“Bingo,” Alice said.
“The short answer is that I owed him a favor. The slightly longer answer is that I owed him a favor, and I saw no harm in helping a father and son share a reunion. The longest answer would be telling you what favor I owed him, and that bit, I won’t be divulging.”
Alice nodded. “I understand and respect your need for privacy.”
Abridail smiled and gave a quick shake of his head. “Were it just you and I, Alice, I would be willing to share that story. But we are being listened to, and I do not trust the ears that linger around us.”
213.
It was easy to forget that, on top of being precise, strong, and skilled, Chad Taylor was also inhumanly fast. While he would certainly never beat someone like Sasha in a foot race, when it came to pure reaction speed, the young Super could easily hold his own with many speedsters. His body couldn’t move as quickly, but that didn’t stop his brain from seeing an attack coming, giving him ample time to slide just out of reach and position himself for a counter. It was easy to forget how fast Chad Taylor was . . . until one found themselves fighting him, at which point, the realization came rushing in, aided by the flurry of blows being applied to one’s body.
Roy’s fist whistled through the air, missing Chad’s shoulder by only a few hairs, and the taller boy braced for impact. Sure enough, Chad struck his ribs with enough force to send Roy tumbling to the side, where he rolled with the blow and emerged on his feet. It was the fourth time Chad had drilled him in the exact same spot, and Roy could feel his ribs beginning to ache with each deep breath he took.
At first, it had seemed like Roy’s enhanced durability would finally even things out between them. Chad’s initial blows had barely registered, and Roy had started to feel invincible. While a younger, dumber Roy would have ridden that misimpression right into early defeat, this Roy quickly remembered who his opponent was and shook any such notions from his mind. Chad wasn’t at the top because a little thing like a tough opponent could stop him. Sure enough, the blond young man had almost immediately shifted his strategy to focus on hitting Roy over and over again in the same spot. It was the sort of thing only someone with Chad’s precision and skill could manage, and worse, it was working.
Roy involuntarily licked his lips as his feet slid carefully into a different position. Chad couldn’t counter him s
o easily from here; Hank’s training had taught Roy how to use his strength to overcome the flips and tosses, but he could dodge like no one’s business. Speed was turning out to be the key in this battle, and would likely be in the next one as well. Roy had to start making contact, or this whole thing would just be a slow ballet of him being picked off one punch at a time.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I know how it will sound, but please take it as a sincere question,” Roy said, never letting his stare waver from his opponent.
“I shall do my best,” Chad assured him, staying equally on guard.
“Thanks. It’s about . . . when we were planning this; we said we were coming at each other seriously. I meant it, too, but . . . the only way I think I’m going to be able to actually fight you is if I don’t hold back at all. Thing is, that means, if I connect, I might seriously injure you. Maybe, I mean, I don’t know for sure. That’s the issue: you never really get hit, so I don’t know how much you can take. But you know yourself better than anyone, that’s why I’m asking: if I come at you full force, can you handle a worst case scenario where I get a clean hit?”
Chad took his time in answering, calculating the maximum force he’d seen Roy use thus far and running it against how much damage he knew for certain he could withstand. After several seconds of hard thinking, Chad gave a slow, deliberate nod.
“I feel quite certain I can, but perhaps you should try and avoid my head, just to be on the safe side.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Roy said. He tried to put on his usual cocky grin, but found it refused to come to his face. Inside, his stomach churned as he faced the reality of hitting someone besides his father at full power. Even at his most irresponsible, Roy had always understood that, at his level, such a blow could easily end a life. He’d brought all he had to bear against only a single other living opponent, Coach George, and that had been a lot of training ago. As he was now, Roy had a feeling that fight would be quite different. While he still might not be able to solo the old teacher, he felt certain that his blows wouldn’t be shrugged off so easily.
He could only hope that Chad had an accurate estimation of both their skills. Otherwise, Camille was going to have to be extra quick with hers.
“Make sure you’re on point,” Roy warned. “Because here I come.”
* * *
“The professors are spying on us?” Alice found that she wasn’t particularly surprised by this revelation. Curious, certainly, about motive as well as method, but not surprised. Nearly two years in Subtlety had taught her that any information she might be after probably had value to someone else as well.
“In a manner of speaking,” Abridail said. “Your Professor Stone doesn’t have dream-walking abilities of her own, but she can scan someone’s memory with great precision, especially when they are in a compromised state like this one. She’s periodically popping in and getting up to speed with our conversation. Quite stealthily, too. I barely noticed her presence at all.”
“I don’t mind her eavesdropping if you don’t.” In truth, Alice minded being used like this quite a bit, but even as she suspected he was betraying her, Alice could still hear Professor Pendleton’s voice reminding her that she had to keep the conversation going at all costs.
“Her listening adds a few more limits on what we can talk about, but I’m happy to keep the discussion going. This time, I’d like to ask you a question though: do you believe in destiny?”
“Please tell me this isn’t the segue to some ridiculous revelation where you tell me my mother had the power to affect fate, and that’s where she’s been all my life.” Alice didn’t actually expect that to be the case, but she had to take every opportunity to remind Abridail that while her mother might be his friend, Alice was an abandoned daughter just looking for closure. Bit by bit, she would wear him down.
“Nothing like that, I promise. This is simply a bit of philosophy I chew upon from time to time. There are days I do believe in fate, and others where the world seems to be forged purely from chaos. Although, one could say that your mother had an ability tied somewhat closely to destiny. I assume you know what it is?”
“My mom was a Powered, and sometimes, she would have fits where she got visions of the future,” Alice said. Given that her father had founded Shelby’s House, the nation’s largest charity for Powereds, that was one tidbit she’d always been privy to.
“Yes and no,” Abridail said. “You see, there is no set future. What your mother can see is only the most likely future, ones that will probably come to pass in some shape or fashion. No one—Super, Powered, or human—knows with certainty what lies ahead of us anymore than they can change the past. That’s why I find myself mulling over the destiny bit so often. The existence of abilities like your mother’s hint to something of an order to things, yet the fluidity suggests that everything is in temporal freefall. After years of contemplation, I have come to one conclusion that might interest you.”
“I’m all ears,” Alice said. She meant it, too. Whatever Abridail had to say was clearly closely tied to her mother. No matter how vague he got, every tidbit he revealed could provide the clue she needed.
“If there is such a thing as destiny, then you, Alice Adair, do not have one.”
214.
Roy hadn’t gotten faster, not technically. His speed could be raised, but that was through the arduous training of both he and Hershel. Improving in a matter of seconds was beyond even his potent abilities. No, Roy wasn’t any faster, but he was also no longer holding back. Without that barrier of caution slowing his movements, Roy’s assaults were engulfing, relentless waves of violence crashing against the barrier of Chad’s defenses.
The blond Super shifted to the side, turning what would have been a punch to the stomach into a glancing blow off his hip. Even with the diffused force, Chad could still feel the blow radiate through his body. He’d spent a lifetime reinforcing his bones and muscles by fine-tuning their composition, but it was clear after the first punch that a direct blow from Roy would injure even Chad’s durable form. In exchange for taking the hit, Chad gave back one of his own, slamming a fist directly into the same spot on Roy’s torso he’d been hammering away at for several minutes.
A soft grunt of pain escaped Roy’s lips as he tried to counter, only to find that Chad had slipped out of range in the brief window after he dealt the blow to Roy’s ribs. Even giving it his all, Roy had trouble keeping up with Chad’s movements; the damned guy was as slippery as a greased pig rolling across a plastic tarp. Still, he was managing to give back some pain, even if it was only a little, and that made this into a genuine fight.
As Roy sucked in a breath and contemplated his next move, he realized that his change in strategy might have come too late. His ribs were definitely bruised, possibly on their way to broken. Once Chad had them good and cracked, all he’d have to do is land a solid punch, and Roy would lose his focus due to the pain. Being woozy around Chad would basically be the same as giving up; he knew far too many tricks of incapacitation for Roy to have any hope of surviving the encounter. That meant any damage he needed to do had to happen in the next few exchanges. Roy probably had one attack, maybe two, before his ribs shattered, and Chad had a weak spot to exploit.
Roy ignored the protests of pain in his torso as he gulped down a lungful of air. One direct hit. If he could just land one direct hit, it could change the tide of battle. Chad might be quick and smart and have every other advantage there was in a brawl, but Roy Daniels could swing a goddamned fist like few others. He’d just have to make that be enough.
* * *
“Will there be any explanation to go with that wildly cryptic statement, or are you just going to leave it there?”
“I thought a student of Subtlety like yourself would recognize a hint when she was handed one,” Abridail replied. “You’re trying to pump me for information that I can’t give, so this is me meeting you halfway.”
“By telling me I have no destiny?”
>
“No, that people like you have no destiny.” Abridail leaned in a bit closer, despite the fact that there was technically no need to whisper. “While this is nothing more than a pet theory of mine, you’re not the only one who fits the criteria. You’re not even the only one in your own dormitory.”
“Interesting.” Alice filed that fact away, deciding to mull it over properly when she had the time. “Maybe we should try something different. You’re sticking firm to the not telling me about my mother thing, but you indicated that you know quite a lot more than just where she’s been all these years. What can you tell me?”
“A great many things, about a great many people,” Abridail said. “Though only a fraction of a fraction of it would concern you. Some of it you would find exceptionally fascinating, though. For example: how many uncles do you think you have?”
“So far as I know, none. Then again, given that my father apparently lied to me about my mother being dead, it wouldn’t be that shocking if you told me I had one squirreled away somewhere.” Alice hated the fact that her father had fallen so far in her esteem that the idea of him covering up another human’s existence was readily believable, but he really had no one to blame but himself for that.
“Oh, they’re far from squirreled away. In fact, two of them are among the people you see most frequently. I mean, you do have Control and Subtlety classes five days a week, after all.”
Alice tilted her head back, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at the invader in her mind who was clearly trying to peddle bullshit. “Are you telling me that Professor Hill and Professor Pendleton are my uncles? Fucking hell, you’re just some nut job aren’t you? Some dick of a Super that goes around jumping into people’s dreams and telling them things they might desperately want to hear just to fuck with them.” Her exasperation was quickly turning to anger, and around them, the attendants of the spa seemed to blink out of existence as the sound of thunder echoed on some unseen horizon.