The Light of Redemption

by Natalie Damschroder

  “Uh-oh.” He reversed direction and went to the chair he’d sat in last night. “What’s it going to do to me?”

  “Honestly?” She lifted a syringe to the light and tapped it, watching a couple of bubbles clear. “I have no idea. But the original made immediate changes in you, so this is likely to do the same, and releasing . . . let’s say enzymes that have been suppressed is likely to have a greater effect than the suppression did. So you might get vertigo, burning in your muscles, nausea, headache—”

  Conn held up a hand. “Got it. We’d better call Evan first, before we do this. Sark’s putting eyes on The Ch— on Harris.” His voice dropped on the name, and I could tell Julie and Simon both noticed. Not just that he knew who he was, but that it meant something.

  “Here.” I handed my burner over to Simon, and Conn gave him the number for Evan’s cell. Simon put it on speaker and dialed, setting the phone on the coffee table. He picked up halfway through the first ring.

  “Forgeron.”

  “Evan, it’s Conn Parsons. I’m on speaker with Harmony Wilde and her friends. How are things going out there?”

  He took a beat. “As you’d expect. I’m with Tulie.” After a pause, he said, “He says hi.”

  Conn grunted and stared at the ground between his feet, fingers tightly laced and elbows pressed against his thighs. I abandoned my sandwiches and went closer to the phone.

  “Evan, we know who The Chaser is. We’ll be confronting him soon, and we’ll need the task force in place to take custody once he’s neutralized.”

  This time he needed a triple beat. “Neutralized?”

  “It’s Harris Tatwell, Evan.” Conn’s voice was heavy.

  Evan swore. “Telekinetic. Did you know he was CASE?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him since I left Luxembourg.”

  “Has he been chasing you all this time?”

  “No idea.”

  “Why would he—”

  I shook my head at Simon. He stopped, but frowned at me. I understood. I was dying to know why Harris would follow Conn around the country and what Conn had done to make him willing to kill people to get to him. Or if the killing was the point and Conn was just icing on top.

  “How can you neutralize the telekinesis? Harmony can hold him with her light but can’t affect his mind. Right?” he added.

  “I’ve come a long way in a short time, but no,” I agreed. “I can’t stop him from throwing wrenches at people’s heads.” I rubbed my bump again, glad to find the soreness was already diminishing.

  “So then?”

  Julie jumped into an explanation of solutions she’d been analyzing and developing. “It will give Conn and Harmony an opportunity, but we don’t know how long it will last on him. Conn’s still . . .” She trailed off when he cleared his throat at her. “We think we have at least twenty-four hours, but, you know, no trials.” She shoved her lower lip between her teeth as if to stop herself from saying things Conn didn’t seem to want Evan to know.

  “You’re Julie Raske?”

  “I—” She took a step back. “Uh, yes.”

  “And I assume Simon Dragosovich is there with you?”

  “Yes,” Simon answered with a bit more aplomb than Julie.

  “Great. Please email me a report of the Hameldon and Wiggins research you’re doing. Their ties to CASE are probably circumstantial because of their plans in your area, and we might have as much as on them as you do, but I’d like to cross-check it. If you don’t mind,” he added politely.

  “Yeah, fine. If you’ll give me an interview. Protected source, of course.”

  “We’ll work it out. Raske, your work is amazing. We’ll talk. Conn, Harmony, good luck. I can’t come back to Pilton, but I do have a team a couple of hours away. Text me details—only on Harmony’s burner, that’s encrypted—and let me know where they can meet you.”

  He disconnected, and Simon closed the phone, leaving it on the table. “He knew a lot,” he observed, asking me, “You tell him all that?”

  I shook my head. “His resources seem pretty vast.”

  “To put it mildly.” He shot a look at Julie. “He’s obviously impressed with you.”

  She giggled. “Don’t sound so peeved. He only wants me for my mind,” she teased. Then she immediately sobered and retrieved the syringe. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored the half-made sandwich on the counter and went to sit on the footstool next to Conn, grabbing his hand.

  “You ready?” Julie asked. He nodded and rotated his bared arm. She carefully slid the needle into his vein and slowly depressed the plunger. I watched Conn’s eyes close. His head rolled back, and though his hand stayed relaxed in mine, the rest of his body visibly tensed. After a few seconds, his breathing came faster, not quite a pant, but an obvious reaction to whatever was happening inside him.

  “Conn?” I murmured. His hand closed around my fingers and I gripped him hard, putting my other hand on top, giving him something to hold on to. We all watched as shakes took him over. His lips curled back over gritted teeth.

  “Don’t fight it,” I told him fiercely, knowing he was trying to hide how bad it was and that would just make it worse. “Let it roll—”

  He let out a short yell and let go of me, hunching over and thrusting his hands into his hair, fisting them. I stood and drew him against my body, flattening my hand on his back and running it up and down. He was hot. Like, hot enough to burn me, and sweat was beginning to soak into his shirt. I closed my eyes, wishing I could siphon the pain into my body.

  He groaned and tried abruptly to get to his feet. Julie yelped and grabbed a big vase from a side table, shoving it in front of him just in time. I raised my eyebrows at her and squeezed Conn’s shoulders as he vomited into it.

  She shrugged. “Little siblings. You recognize the signs.”

  Conn relaxed and set the vase on the floor. Julie, God love her, snatched it up and carried it to the bathroom. Conn tried to protest, but she called out breezily, “No worries. I deal with worse in the lab!”

  “You okay?” I sat as Conn eased back into his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin Simon had handed him. He was pale, his features drawn, and his hair had a wild look. But he nodded.

  “Yeah. Getting there. Not quite ready for a fight, but the effects are passing.”

  “Did it work?” Simon asked. I’d been afraid to, so I was glad he wasn’t.

  Conn raised his right foot off the floor and slammed it down. Well, the intent was slamming, but he was obviously still weak. Rippling out from the dull thud of his boot heel, though, were light shockwaves that vibrated past my legs and across the building. Things rattled on their shelves, and in one of the bedrooms, something crashed to the floor. A returning wave rippled back at about half the strength.

  “It worked.”

  Julie cheered and threw her arms around Simon.

  “You are amazing,” he told her, and they kissed.

  “You need food,” I told Conn. “I’ll finish the sandwiches. You need painkillers?”

  “Some ibuprofen wouldn’t be a bad idea. I think there’s some in the bathroom.”

  “Okay.” I stood and went back to the kitchen, though I wanted nothing more than to follow Conn into the bedroom, make him lie down, and hold him for a couple of hours while he recovered. But we didn’t have that kind of time. The Chaser—Harris—would be coming after us or running away, and we needed a plan.

  Soon, this would all be over. Not just the threat to me and my town, but the driving force for Conn’s decisions over the past couple of years. The decisions that had led him to come to Pilton to hide. After this, he could go back to his old life. He could go to Salt Lake City to help Tulie and Slate get back on their feet. He could go to Europe and work with his parents. There was nothing keeping him in Pilton.


  I took a deep breath to hide the tearing sensation in my chest. I refused to hope that I could keep him here. It had been a matter of days that we’d been together, and all he’d gotten from me was suffering. Okay, there was one more thing, but he could get that anywhere, superhero or not. I refused to let myself fall into another crush or turn into a pining or clingy self-assumed girlfriend. And right now, there were more important things to think about. This was not over. Anything could happen.

  “Hey, Harmony.” Simon came and stood on the other side of the counter. “You didn’t hear from Angie, did you?”

  I shook my head. “I thought you said she had a crisis at the diner. Tearoom, I mean.”

  “She did, but she didn’t think she’d be gone so long. I’d better check on her.”

  I finished making sandwiches for everyone and piled them on a platter, adding some cut veggies and dip to a plate and opening a bag of chips to go with it all. I was halfway through carrying them to the table when Simon let out a string of curses in what I could only assume was Russian. I’d never heard him talk like that before.

  Conn had just come out of the bathroom. “What’s going on?”

  Simon looked like he wanted to throw something. He squeezed his phone, fisted hands rising in the air, and then jerked them back to his sides. His eyes were tormented when he looked at me.

  “They’ve got Angie.”

  Chapter 17

  I stood on the bank of the river, arms folded, feet braced, with a breeze off the low, babbling water barely penetrating the fabric of my uniform. I was fully outfitted this time, despite the daylight. Black catsuit with the sleeves hooked over my thumbs, hood, mask, shoes. My braided hair hung over my shoulder, a liability but too thick to pin comfortably under the hood. My body seethed with light, more light than I’d ever taken in. I’d collected it from the house, from the daytime running lights on the cars we passed to come here, from the signs and stores in town when I made Simon detour so I could find more sources. Coming down the slope behind me, Simon and Julie hauled bags with flashlights and whatever backup gear Conn had requested they carry. They’d insisted on coming along, on helping, and Conn had told me it was better to let them do it.

  It didn’t matter to me. He could run the show, and I’d trust him to make sure my other friends didn’t get dragged further into harm’s way. It was my fault Angie had been taken. My neglect. I’d focused on what was in front of me and set aside any concern for her, deeming this more important. My behavior was unbelievable to me. She was my best friend. My sidekick. The one who’d been willing to help me train, to listen to my whining when I wasn’t perfect, to give me advice that led me to increase my potential. That led me to Conn, as a superhero and as a woman. I’d ignored all of that since I got out of the hospital. She’d pointed it out earlier when she arrived at the cottage, and I’d laughed.

  Laughed, and left her. And now she was in true danger.

  Conn’s big, warm hand settled on my shoulder. “They’re coming down the hill. Are you ready?”

  I nodded slightly. He shook me.

  “Harmony. Look at me.” He waited until I did, and made a noise when he saw my face. I didn’t know what the dismay was for. My lack of energy and emotion? The deadness of my eyes? I felt unworthy of standing beside him, of being his partner on this mission. I knew this was all wrong. I needed to be amped up, charged, ready to take on anything and rescue Angie, and then to punish those who’d dared make her a target. A victim. But I felt nothing except a certainty that I had caused all of this with my small-town ineptitude and misplaced desire to do more, be more.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Smart of him to ask that way, instead of what was wrong. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This. All of it.” I unfolded my arms and made a sweeping gesture. “This isn’t what I do. I don’t walk into big showdowns with powerful enemies. I don’t save damsels. There is no ‘Big Bad’ in my world. I’m a small-town superhero, Conn.”

  “If that’s all you think you are, it’s all you’ll ever be.”

  I snorted. “No-brainer response, but I’m too deep for that to drag me out.” Part of me was pissed at what I was saying, at the pool of self-pity I swam in. But most of me was just. Freaking. Terrified.

  Conn didn’t seem to get that. He sneered down at me in a way I’d never seen from him before. “This is what you wanted, Harmony. I’m sorry . . . Eclipse.”

  “Don’t,” I whispered. “You’re right. I wanted to get better. To be able to do more. But I didn’t think I’d be taking on this, and not this soon.” I pointed toward Emeraud, where the message on Angie’s voicemail greeting had told us to go, about ten minutes from now. “It’s literally been two days since I found out how much light I can take in, and how fast. Since I learned to throw a shield capable of stopping a flying body. Two days, Connor, and now I have to face people who have weapons specifically targeting me, and—” I had to stop. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Hands on my waist, I bent over. “Oh, God. I didn’t think of that. I specifically wasn’t thinking of that. I was just afraid I’m not good enough to get Angie. But I can’t use my light, because—”

  “Breathe.” He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look into his eyes. “Harmony. Breathe. It’s okay. Listen. Follow me.” He drew in a long, slow breath, and I mirrored him, then broke into unamused laughter.

  “This is silly. I’m okay. I don’t do hysteria.” I heaved in a deeper breath without his guidance and let it out slowly at first, then in a rush. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I am. That was not the right call. Too harsh. There’s a reason I never led a team.” He pulled me into his arms. I knocked up against something hard covering his torso, backed up a bit, and rapped it with my knuckles.

  “Armor?”

  “Yeah, I’m strong, not invulnerable. I have gear. Before we go up I’ll cover spots where they might try to stick me again. Harm, you’re going to be fine.” He settled me in more gently and I let him. The armor wasn’t as nice a resting place as his chest, but his warmth and scent and the strength in his arms still surrounded me. I wanted to be tough, but couldn’t deny this felt good and helped me rise out of the morass.

  “I hate that I followed their script.” I slid out of his arms and paced the edge of the bank. “This is what they wanted. Why they took Angie. Not just to draw us out and give them all the advantages, but to get in my head. Make me weak and distracted and stupid. It’s not going to work. Not anymore, I mean.” I checked the time. Five minutes until three, the time they’d told us to show up. We’d debated arriving early, but didn’t see enough advantage in that compared to how rushed we’d be to get ready.

  Simon and Julie skidded down the final few feet of the slope, and Julie hauled her big bag over to me.

  “We didn’t have time to make you armor or anything like Conn’s got,” she told me. “But you can make your shields and still be able to use your powers, so you’ll be protected from physical assault. What you aren’t protected by . . .” She dug into her bag and removed a fleece earband, the kind that keeps your ears warm in the winter. They looked a little bulkier than the ones I wore during Christmas caroling. She handed them to me and pointed to the padding surrounded by a shiny black ring. “There’s a screen in here. It will allow you to hear at normal levels but if anything above a certain decibel threshold or pitch hits the screen, it will block it out. So you’ll be protected from an attack by Olive. And there’s a regular comm so you can talk to Conn, too.”

  “Sweet.” I lowered my hood so I could put on the band, repositioning my braid and mask to accommodate it. A few feet away, Simon was scrutinizing a similar band around Conn’s head. “Seriously, Jules, you’ve totally become our Q.”

  She shrugged. “It was all Simon’s idea. I just pulled the materials together
. Had to do some research. It’s not my area of expertise.”

  “Still. It’s only been like an hour. Impressive.” I tapped the screen over my right ear with a fingernail. Everything was a little muffled, yet clear at the same time. Like I had headphones on and could hear both the world outside them, and the music in them. Except in this case, the sounds on both sides were the same. “Thank you.”

  “Here.” She dangled a pair of handcuffs. “I added a vial of the serum to two sets of these, so it can be triggered from a distance if Harris starts to get his powers back after you’ve disabled him. And the piéce de resistance . . .” She reached for Simon, but he was handing something to Conn, who was grinning.

  “Sorry, babe. This one is all mine.” He ran his fingers up and down a short metal tube. A loop around the middle would connect to a clip on his belt, which Simon was attaching. Julie found a small box with a belt clip on the back and handed it to Conn. “Three darts. That’s all I had time to make.”

  “Why do you get to dart him?” I whined.

  “Because I’m the one with dart gun experience,” Conn countered, sliding the box over his waistband.

  “I don’t even want to know how you got that.” I did a once-over, touching my mask, tugging my hood, positioning my earband, and then shot a ball of light from my palm and sucked it back in, just to make sure I could. “Are we ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Julie grabbed me in a hug. “Don’t get killed,” she whispered, then let me go and started to climb back up the slope, grabbing fistfuls of the tall grass for leverage.

  “We’ll meet up with the task force and send them in when you’re ready.” Simon wiggled his phone, and I patted mine, clipped to my own belt. “Good luck.”