The Light of Redemption

by Natalie Damschroder

  “Copy that. Moving into position.”

  I scanned my friends again. Gladys and Trillium, the most vulnerable, were closest to the door. That was good. Maybe they could get out when Conn came in. Sark had shifted and leaned forward now, ready to move, but he was in no shape to do much. Julie’s face was red with fury as she wriggled against the ropes. Angie met my eyes, a clear question in them, her whole body tense. I shook my head a tiny bit, and she relaxed, her hand on Simon’s wrist. She nodded a little, and I took that to mean he was okay. With a pulse, anyway.

  “Why is she tied up?” I asked Olive. “And gagged?”

  She rotated to glance at Julie, then back to me. “She wouldn’t stop talking. So annoying.” She waved the gun at me. “Come out from behind there.”

  “Okay.” I planted my hands on the counter and leaped over it, landing solidly in front of her. Startled, she fell back a couple of steps. I stayed in front of the counter. All of our positions were good for Conn’s move, if I could just get Harris to stand up.

  For now, I ignored him. “What’s the point of all this, Olive? I mean, revenge, obviously, but it helps for the target to know what perceived slight they’re being punished for.”

  “Perceived slight? Perceived slight?” She stepped toward me, stabbing her finger toward the floor. “There’s nothing perceived about it, Harmony Wilde. I needed you. I tried over and over, and you just kept kicking me to the curb.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “Olive, I barely knew you. We were in different grades, had different friends—”

  “I had no friends!”

  I was honestly perplexed. “Of course you did.” I could see them in vague memories, a group trick-or-treating on the same street as us, eating lunch together in school, hanging out on the playground. It was so long ago, and they were younger, so I couldn’t remember their names. But they’d definitely existed.

  She shook her arms in frustration. “The kids at school here don’t count.”

  “Well then who does? You moved away before middle school, remember? How could I be responsible for you having no friends after that?”

  “I went decades watching from afar as groups of misfits became superheroes. You were the only person I knew who could do that with me. No one in the other places I lived was special. Only we were. And you just ignored me.”

  “Ignored what?” I spread my hands out at my sides. “I never saw you again.”

  “I sent letters. Dozens of letters, and then emails in high school. I tried to find you on Facebook for years.”

  “I’m not on Facebook.” It was not amusing to think something so stupid could have prevented all of this. “I never got emails from you, or letters.” It was likely I did get the emails but thought they were spam. My spam-to-real-email ratio was about a hundred to one. I couldn’t explain the letters, though. Except for college, I’d always been in Pilton. Maybe her parents hadn’t mailed them or something.

  “You lie!” she accused, and I couldn’t argue with her. I wasn’t lying, but she’d never believe me, and I had no way to prove it. Even if I could, she was so far down this path, so convinced of her righteousness, that it wouldn’t make a difference. So I moved on.

  “It’s a clever plan,” I told her. “Setting me up so I can’t use my abilities without blowing up myself and everyone around me.”

  The others gasped. Gladys cried harder, and Trillium murmured something to her. Angie looked shocked, and I hoped she’d gotten the message. The goal was to get them all out of here.

  “But it was risky,” I continued. “What if I used my light at Emeraud? It would have robbed you of all this satisfaction.”

  She shrugged. “Not much of a gamble. You’re not stupid, and we couldn’t have made it much more obvious.”

  “Enough.” Harris’s voice was mild, smooth. Normal. “I’m tired of your taunting, Olive.” He looked at me. “Where’s Connor Parsons?”

  “He’s not coming.” I decided to appeal to his ego. “You rattled him last time, and he’s not eager to fight you again. Not without the strength you stole from him.”

  “I didn’t steal it. It’ll come back. In a few months.” He smirked.

  Good to know. Even if results differed, once we treated him, the suppression should last plenty long enough for them to secure him somewhere.

  “Want your turn on the Scooby-Doo monologue train?” I asked him. “Why did you come here?”

  He shook his head, that weird smile still twitching across his mouth.

  “You just hate all superheroes? Is that it?” I swept my arm up and down, indicating his body. “You could have been one. I mean, legacy, right?”

  That did it. He stood. I said, “Now!” The front door slammed open and Conn slid across the floor in dusty boots, the dart gun to his mouth. He blew. The dart flew. Olive and I watched it pass us, our heads turning in unison as the group in the booths all jumped in reaction to Conn’s entrance. Harris flicked his fingers and the dart went off course, striking the wall behind him. He pushed his arm through the air, and Conn slammed into the open door. Glass shattered. People screamed. Sirens wailed. And outside, across the street, I saw a crowd beginning to form.

  I reached for my light and then froze, breathing fast and hard, shocked at what I’d almost done. I had no ability to fight this fight.

  So I ran.

  Or so I made it look. I ducked and dashed toward the open door, hoping the move would surprise Olive and Harris and keep them from doing anything. Then I stepped on broken glass that skidded under the ball of my foot and landed on the floor, right next to Conn. Next to the box on his belt that held the darts.

  Conn groaned and rolled. I didn’t have time to help him, to assess his injuries. I got the box open and palmed a dart, shoving the last one into his hand along with the tube he’d dropped. And then I was lifted and flung through the air. I flailed, but managed to get the dart into the pouch on my belt, pinning it closed with my arm. I couldn’t use my light right now, but the last thing I wanted was to waste the serum on myself.

  Harris let go of me halfway through my flight, and I somehow managed to avoid hitting tables and chairs on my way down. I slid several feet and came to a stop far from everyone else. I knew once my brain caught up to my body things would hurt, but I was in better shape than I’d expected.

  Tables acted as stepping stones for Harris to cross the room and tower over Conn on the floor. He gazed out the busted door, and when he spoke, his voice was magnified somehow.

  “It all comes down to this, Connor Parsons. Also known as Rafe Karlsson.”

  I didn’t know if anyone else would recognize that name, but no doubt people out there were filming this, maybe even live streaming it. Harris wanted everyone to know what he was doing and who he was doing it to. And I had a feeling we were about to find out why.

  “Finally came out of the darkness, huh, Harris? Ready to sully the Tatwell name?” Conn’s voice wasn’t magnified, but I was willing to bet someone out there had heard. Harris didn’t seem to care. He really did want credit for all of this.

  “CASE has a noble mission, and as a founder and leader, it’s my obligation to fulfill that mission. Bet you didn’t realize you were the whole reason the organization exists, did you, Parsons?”

  Conn slammed a fist onto the ground. The table skittered under Harris’s feet, knocking him off balance, but he managed to land on the floor on his feet. He looked shocked only for a couple of seconds, then tsked. “I don’t know how you got that back, but it doesn’t matter. Removing my platform may be symbolically sweet, but it won’t help you.” He kicked a fallen chair out of his way and stepped closer to Conn, but still not within reach. “You know what this is about.” He waited, but Conn didn’t speak. “Say it!” he screamed, and all the tables and chairs near them shoved away from him, clatter
ing. Tablecloths slid to the floor, and a few things fell off the walls. A photo of the town’s first mayor landed on Conn’s side, then fell off.

  “Patty Mellander,” Conn croaked. He started to get to his knees. Harris kicked him.

  “Louder!”

  “Patty Mellander.” He met my gaze from across the room, and his was clearer than it should have been from the disoriented, pained way he was acting. His eyes flicked toward the others.

  I started easing my way toward my friends. Olive didn’t notice, her back to me as she watched the spectacle, fascinated. But I had little space to maneuver and had to do it quietly. I tried to come up with a plan on the way.

  “Patty Mellander. Pretty little thing, right? The three of us were inseparable. By necessity, really, since there weren’t a lot of other people around our age who weren’t spending all their time sucking up to the European royalty and shit. She gave us these.” He fingered his earring, which I hadn’t noticed before now. It was the same as Conn’s. “She had a matching pair. Superhero siblings at heart.”

  “You hated having powers,” Conn told him. “You never even revealed to us what they were.”

  “No. Not until that day at the lake. With the animals. You ran then, and you’ve been running ever since, you coward.” He launched his foot again, but this time Conn caught it and threw Harris onto his back. It appeared as effortless as tipping over a candle. Olive started forward, but Harris shoved his hand at her and she stopped as if she’d hit a wall.

  “You did that at the lake? You set the animals free.” Conn got to his feet and didn’t prevent Harris from doing the same. “I ran with Patty. You’re the one responsible for her death, not me. She fell into the lake because a freaking tiger was running after her.”

  “That’s not what happened!” Harris yelled, and he’d completely lost control. “I was playing games! Having fun! We were surrounded by superheroes at that summit. Not one of them saved her! You didn’t save her! And my powers were the reason it all happened. They’re dangerous, you asshole, and everyone trying to pretend they’re protecting the world needs to be removed from it. Everyone!”

  He lunged. Conn swung, but the punch was a feint. When Harris dodged, Conn buried the point of the dart into his neck. The delivery was automatic, but I didn’t know how long it would take to suppress his powers. I reached Angie’s table. Simon was awake now, his eyes unfocused, but he was upright.

  “Can you walk?” I mouthed, and he nodded uncertainly. I gestured to Angie to get him and the others out. I got to Julie next, and she’d removed the rope from her hands but hadn’t moved for her ankles, probably to avoid drawing attention. Together, we got them untied, and she yanked the gag from her mouth and slid off the seat, ready to follow Angie and Simon toward the end of the counter. He’d already disappeared behind it when Olive noticed.

  “Hey!” The barrel of her gun came up, her finger on the trigger. I didn’t think, just pushed off the ground and tackled her. A few shots rang out, followed by screams from all over, inside and outside. Olive’s head bounced off the tile and she went limp. I threw the gun under a booth.

  Gladys and Trillium were gone. Through the big front window, I saw them running across the street, cops moving to shield them. I hadn’t noticed the patrol cars arrive, but officers appeared to be trying to move the crowd away. They seemed to be complying finally, probably because of the gunshots.

  My body jerked, rose, and was pinned against the side of a booth. Harris had Conn under his boot, and his fist clenched toward me, holding me in place. The serum wasn’t working. We were in deep shit. At the far end of the room, the others scrambled to get under cover, Sark bringing up the rear, shielding them. But it didn’t matter. Harris knew where to strike. He jerked his head, and Angie was dragged onto the top of the counter. Blood drenched her side. I almost joined in the screaming. She was alive, and moving, but one of the bullets must have hit her. A giant, jagged piece of glass swept across the room and hovered over her throat.

  Desperation clawed at me, and worse, it clawed at the seal I’d tried to put around my light. “Get them out!” I yelled at Sark, and he herded the others through the kitchen door, where they could go out the back. Harris let them go. Maybe he had to, if his powers had limits, or if the serum was working slowly. I was still pinned, and Angie was still under threat, and he still had Conn under his boot. But he grimaced and swiped at his neck, rolling his head into a hard shake.

  “My chemist is better than your chemist,” he ground out, but winced and sucked in a hard breath. “Dyson wins.”

  A bell rang in my brain. Wig had mentioned him in the warehouse.

  “Too late,” Harris grunted, and nodded at Olive. I hadn’t noticed she’d come to. From the floor, she opened her mouth and let out a wail. It wasn’t high-pitched, and the filters at my ears didn’t have to work to keep it from piercing my brain. But it had weight, and an awful vibration, and I felt my insides quivering.

  She was gelifying us.

  I dug into my pouch and grabbed the dart. Harris had pinned me in place but not paralyzed me. I raised my arm and flung the dart at Olive. It landed, point down, in her stomach. Her wail cut off and she snatched at it like a spider had just crawled across her. I wasn’t sure it had buried deep enough to work on her, but it had given us a reprieve.

  The problem was that my body was working hard to overcome my control. I remembered the woods, when I grabbed all that light without knowing it. And the light that flew to my fingers when Conn came to my door. And the instinct that had reactivated my powers after the hospital. Everything in me wanted to use the light, to save us. But it would destroy us instead.

  “The hostages are clear,” came Sark’s voice through a megaphone from outside. “The area is vacated.”

  I didn’t know how he knew what was happening. Maybe they had bragged to the hostages while they waited for us. But he was letting me know it was safe to try. Safe, except for Angie bleeding out on the counter. Safe, except for Conn under Harris’s boot. Conn, who had inhaled the contaminated air.

  There was only one way to stop them, but doing it would kill two of the people I cared about most in the world. They’ll die anyway. Do it. It was as if the light whispered to me, stirring against my control.

  Olive was on her knees, and another sound, one low and difficult to discern, was slowly filling the air. She was doing it again. It faltered, and she coughed. The serum was working. But not fully, not yet, and whatever she was doing would disable both of us before it stopped.

  “Do it,” Conn croaked. “If you don’t, he’ll keep going. He’ll find them and make them suffer for us.”

  “He’s right.” Harris laughed, as if he didn’t think I could stop him. “But I don’t think you can, can you, Eclipse? That name has a whole other meaning today.” He reached, and Olive’s gun floated to his hand. No speed or force, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he called it to him. The serum was finally working. But it didn’t matter. He’d shoot us both, and then keep going.

  “Angie.” My voice was plaintive. Begging. She managed a smile, her eyelids drooping.

  “It’s okay,” she told me. “The sidekick is all about inspiration, you know. Do it.” Her eyes closed, and her hand fell off the counter.

  Noooooooo! I sobbed, once. “I’m sorry,” I told Conn. I love you.

  Part of me railed at the knowledge of what I was about to do. But I was going to save my town, and I knew that was the choice he wanted me to make.

  So I unleashed the light.

  Chapter 19

  First came the rush of energy, the gold-red glow of the light I’d buried so hard. Then a ferocious joy that came from the light itself as much as it came from me. No living thing, it simply absorbed my own emotions. Only this time, the joy wasn’t from small-time reasons to be happy. Stopping a drug dealer or preve
nting petty crime. This was personal, with stakes as big as you could get in a place like Pilton. And it was dark with vengeance.

  I whipped out a loop of light, wrapping it around Olive from the mouth down, shutting off her debilitating sound and taking her back to the floor. At the same time, I shot another strand toward the gun, spun the light, and ripped it out of Harris’s grip. He whirled, and the shift was enough for Conn to get free. For a second, I thought everything was going to be okay.

  And then the burning started. “Get out!” I yelled at Conn, at the same time wrapping up Olive and Harris in bands of light so they wouldn’t get away from me. My stomach churned with the knowledge of what I was doing. This was willfully killing two people. Harris was a murderer, Olive tried to be, and still could be if she got free. But this was a long way from delivering petty criminals to the police. “Take Angie!” I yelled louder, over the roar in my ears and maybe in the room with us. Tongues of light like flames erupted through my skin, and I felt the energy building, tightening, focusing. It was going to blow. I was going to blow.

  Get out get out get out. I could barely see. I didn’t know if Conn had reached Angie, if he’d gotten clear. I clenched my whole body against the power gathering inside it to give him more time. I tilted my head back and finally screamed out all the pain and despair and triumph of losing and winning at the same time. The roar of the explosion filled my ears, light filled my brain, and my entire existence was swept up in a brilliant flash.

  It took only seconds. The blast outward caught, reversed, and imploded with as much force as it had burst. And there I stood at the center of it, alive. Whole. And in command.

  Olive and Harris both gaped at me. More sirens wailed outside, this time identifiable as the local fire trucks. The sense of reaction, of slow recovery, filled the air as people outside moved and spoke in low voices. The window behind me had shattered. I hoped that was all. I hoped everyone out there was okay. But I had to finish this job.