by Jamie Zakian
“Shay Sinclair, co-commander of the Superhero Policing Unit.”
In hopes of quieting Ollie’s loud mouth, Shay turned her back to him and grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand. “I have eighty-seven new messages.”
“Full access to classified citizen’s files.”
“Oh.” Shay scrolled down her phone’s screen, swiping away texts as more came flooding in. “Forty-two of them are from you.”
“Work hands-on with superheroes to integrate a safe streets program!”
“I know what it says. I read it twenty-billion times.” Shay snatched the papers from Ollie’s hand and placed them gently on her desk.
“How can you be so calm right now? This is the most majorest of all the majors in time.”
“I’m just …” Shay couldn’t hold back her excitement, not with Ollie’s bright smile shining on her. “I’m totally freaking out right now!” She jumped up and down while clutching onto the sides of Ollie’s arms.
“I know, me too,” Ollie said through a chuckle. “And this isn’t even happening to me.”
Evie’s frown popped into Shay’s mind and a pang of guilt wormed its way through her stomach. “But, I’m trying to be chill.” She leaned close to Ollie and whispered, “Evie was not very happy.”
“I bet,” Ollie said softly. “The spotlight’s only big enough for her.”
“That’s not nice, or true. She had a lab built for me to hang in after school. You can’t just do that overnight.”
Shay’s phone continued to buzz, nonstop, and she looked at its display. “I have over forty texts from randoms at school, inviting me to parties at places I didn’t even know existed.”
“That’s awesome. We should go.”
“Yeah, right. I have a ton of research to do. There’s this new tech that manipulates magnetic fields—”
“Listen to you. Ms. SPU supreme.”
Shay was used to her best friend making up words, but this wasn’t quirky enough to be an Ollie original. “SPU?”
“It’s what the news people are calling your new unit. I’m gonna jet, let you get to your mega-boring research.”
Ollie opened Shay’s bedroom door then glanced back. The way he looked at her, like she was some kind of god, brought on shivers. For a second, she thought Ollie might snap a pic but he just grinned then left. If her best friend of forever acted this crazy, the rest of the city would be insane by tomorrow.
Shay clicked on her computer and opened a tab. Her face popped onto the screen with the headline, Youngest Commander-In-Chief Takes City by Storm. It was a horrible picture of her and a stupid article, filled with half-truths. She glanced at the window and her heart fluttered. In the smooth glass, she caught her own desperate reflection and quickly looked away.
“Childish,” Shay muttered, returning to her computer.
Max stood in the empty boardroom. The overhead lights had been dimmed for the night, but the bright shimmers of the city’s skyline beamed through the wide window he stared out. He wasn’t certain why he’d come to the boardroom. His penthouse suite awaited his arrival one floor above where he stood. He had left-over takeout and beer in his fridge and a DVR full of survival shows, yet he stood alone in the room where most of his reprimands occurred.
“Hey, Max,” Simon said, creeping into the room. “Can we talk?”
Simon stepped beside Max, but Max didn’t part his gaze from the glimmer of city lights.
“I get a log every night containing everybody’s internet usage within this building.” Simon glanced at Max, then back out the window. “You accessed the classified citizen file of Shay Sinclair. Hacked into her private MyPage account.”
“Simon—”
“Watched videos of her and her friends, over and over again.”
“It’s not what you think,” Max said softly.
“Well. I thought it looked pretty creepy, like you’re stalking a sixteen-year-old girl.”
“No,” Max said in a firm tone. “I wasn’t looking at her like that. I was looking for something specific, trying to figure something out.”
“Why she’s so much like Jenna?”
Max rocked in place. He couldn’t stand the name of his lost love coming from another person’s mouth.
“I watched some of those videos,” Simon said. “I saw it too. It’s incredible, the similarities—very strange—but it’s not Jenna. That would be impossible.”
“But Lucius took her soul.”
“And then he devoured it, because that’s what evil does. It destroys.”
Simon placed his hand on Max’s arm. The light touch, and the compassion behind it, weighed Max down like a ton of bricks.
“You have to let Jenna go. Even if Lucius does still have her soul, her body is gone.”
“No.” Max wrenched his arm from Simon’s comforting grip and headed for the door. “Shay can help me find Jenna, I know it.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the holding chamber,” Max shouted, storming from the room.
Shay peered down the dark hallway, staring at Evie’s closed bedroom door. Soft carpet rustled beneath her toes as she crept from her room.
The hall light reflected off a wall full of pictures. Each snapshot depicted a happy family with a mother, father, and two little girls. Their smiles, trapped behind glass, taunted Shay. It was a life she barely remembered with people whose voices she no longer recalled. If it wasn’t for Evie’s signature grin, she’d never guess that was once her world.
A soft glow shined through the door’s cracks and muffled beats of Chillstep thumped louder the closer Shay got to Evie’s bedroom. Her sister must be pretty upset. So far, that kind of music only made an appearance on Evie’s playlist two times: when Evie’s high school boyfriend crushed her heart, and the night after their parents’ funeral.
In near silence, Shay rested her cheek against Evie’s bedroom door. Any other day, she’d give a quick knock and walk right in, but today felt different. Her older sister became her occupational equal today. That had to sting, even for someone as confident as Evie.
If there was anything Shay hadn’t said, she’d say it now, but a million sorrys couldn’t erase the day’s embarrassment. Within hours, the media had twisted Evie into a vindictive superhero hater and Shay into some kind of prodigy. It wasn’t her fault, but apparently guilt trumped reason.
Shay backed away from Evie’s door. Her stupid face was probably the last thing Evie wanted to see. In which case, she hoped her sister didn’t turn on the TV, or a computer, or pick up a cell phone.
“Oh, God,” Shay muttered, turning toward her room.
The thud of Max’s boots echoed off gray walls as he hurried along a tight corridor. Lights flickered on overhead as he marched, then blinked out behind him. Ten stories under Ling Enterprises and encased in concrete, no one would hear his boots pound—no one except Lucius Grant.
A yellow shimmer gleamed at the end of the tunnel-like hallway and Max slowed his steps. An unbreakable clear barrier stood between him and the glow of his archenemy’s eyes. The small cell that held Lucius had been lined with a special meta-metal the government created, which blocked the man’s powers from escaping. Every fiber in Max’s being told him he was safe, yet a slight tremor quaked his knees. His friend, his fallen idol, his greatest tormentor, grinned at him from behind solid glass and it hurt more than it enraged.
“Max Storm,” Lucius said in a sneer, his voice just as rich through small speakers as it was in real life. “My most promising cadet, and biggest disappointment.”
“I think it’s hilarious you ended up my pet. Just look at you, trapped in my big glass jar and locked away in my secret vault. Like Jenna. Like all those other innocent people.”
“Innocent people.” Lucius lunged forward, stopping just before the glass. “You know. When I collect a soul, I can feel if it’s tainted by sin. They were all dirty, every single one of them. Even Jenna’s supercharged esse
nce tasted sour when I absorbed it.”
An evil smirk beamed through thick glass but Max didn’t break his hard stare. He couldn’t let Lucius see how desperate he was, or he’d never get Jenna back.
“You’re exactly where I want you,” Max said, resting his arms on the glass. “Buried and powerless. You played right into my hand, Lucius.”
“Antiserum,” he yelled, banging on the glass.
Max jumped back. He’d be pissed at his own reflexes except Lucius’s face, all red and scrunched, warmed his heart.
“I have another cell.” Max gestured at the long, dark corridor behind him. “At the far end of this hallway. Your brother, Cyrus, is a good man. The fact he’s stuck by your side this long proves it. He doesn’t have to sit in that vacant cell, grow old, and die alone like you will. Just tell me where you keep the stolen souls. Tell me how to find Jenna, and I’ll give Cyrus a pass.”
Lucius shrugged. He crossed his arms, turning his nose up to Max.
“I will find your vault, Lucius, and I’ll toss your brother in that cell when he shows up to save your ass.”
“Maybe, but you’ll never find Jenna.”
To keep from slipping into a fiery rage, Max turned and walked away. He’d hoped to finally end this conflict with the Grant brothers, wished the friendship they once shared meant something, but wishes weren’t real. Max learned that when he watched the woman he loved die.
“Jenna’s gone to you. She’s mine, all mine.”
No matter how fast Max walked, that man’s sinister voice followed.
“You’re right where I want you, Max. Or maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”
The lights clicked off behind Max but the rants grew louder as they echoed off the stone walls. Every word Lucius spoke sliced, and Max couldn’t block them out. The shouts laced in hate didn’t stop until Max walked onto the elevator and its door closed them away.
He sagged against the wall. Tears filled his eyes, but he used the heat of his flame to burn them to vapors before they could touch his skin.
A buzz filled the tiny space, and Max looked up to see a camera steer toward him.
“Simon,” he grumbled. And that dude had the nerve to call him a creepy stalker. He lifted his middle finger to the lens then used it to push the top button.
A collective burst of boos and angered yells, from fifteen-stories below a closed window, woke Shay. It wasn’t too bad. With her head shoved under three pillows, she could barely hear the symphony of hollers, outcries, and death threats. Then, a man shouted into a bullhorn and she jolted to her feet.
On her way to the window, she formed a solid plan. Open the window wide, scream obscenities out, and slam it closed. That plan blew to bits when she peeked out her curtain.
Mobs of people gathered around her building. They yelled for superhero haters to be arrested, and waved a variety of anti-Evie signs. The poor police officers were losing their battle to keep the crowd from the now barricaded entrance of her building. Chaos, that’s what being friendly in stairwells got you.
“Shay.” Evie knocked on Shay’s door, even though she’d already opened it. “I guess you’ve seen it then.”
“This is wild. How are we going to hail a cab?”
“No more cabs for us, we’re on the government’s dime now. There’s an SPU agent waiting for us in the parking garage. We have our own sedan, equipped with bodyguards.”
“SPU agent, how long have you been planning this?”
“Six months.” Evie opened Shay’s closet. She pulled out a handful of shirts, cringed, and then tossed them over her shoulder.
“We need to get you some plain black clothes.”
“Anyway.” Shay grabbed a bright orange shirt from Evie’s grasp. “I like my clothes.” She looked down at the blue cartoon bear that waved from the heinous top in her hand. This shirt didn’t count, but she loved the rest of her stuff.
“All SPU agents wear black,” Evie said, presenting her silky black pantsuit.
“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not an SPU agent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been fully capable of dressing myself for the last decade.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Evie called out from the doorway. “I believe we just dealt with a grandma Christmas outfit incident.”
Shay shut her bedroom door on Evie’s smug face. She kicked aside a heap of neon clothes, taking her favorite leopard print leggings off the lamp. Her style was unique, playful, and totally outdated. Not that she cared. The lab waiting for her couldn’t judge her wardrobe, but first she had to get past the hundreds of people, cameras, and reporters that would.
“They can all stuff it,” Shay yelled, waving her hand toward the window. She wouldn’t change herself to please others. Her comfort and identity were far more important than anybody’s approval.
After wiggling into her leggings, she put on a blue-fringed skirt and topped it off with a yellow tank.
“Nice and comfy.”
The whole time Shay brushed her teeth, she imagined what her lab would look like. If she’d designed it, everyone would be on hover boards. The floors would have LED lights embedded under glass that changed color with a person’s mood. There’d be a complete staff of rocket-powered robots, or maybe cyborgs to monitor her experiments while she was away.
Shay rinsed her toothbrush and trotted down the hallway. Her daydreams of tiny robot helpers and floating tables burst when she stepped foot into the living room.
Two men, whose arms probably held more muscle mass than her entire body, blocked the front door. A young woman followed Evie around while shuffling through papers. And big surprise, they all wore black.
“Oh, no,” Evie said, lowering her cell phone. “Go change.”
“I look fine.”
“You look like a blind, senile clown.”
A chuckle rang out from one of the gorillas behind Shay. If she didn’t need those bodyguards to get past hundreds of protesters who wanted her and Evie’s head, she’d assert her authority by creating a to-be-fired list.
“I haven’t done my hair yet.” Shay twisted her messy hair into a bun then raised her hands at her sides. “There. Super professional.”
“I am not getting photographed with you dressed like that. I tell you to wear black and you pick an outfit with every color besides black.”
Shay looked at her bright neon clothes, which may have been a tiny push against her sister’s totalitarian ways. “It’s not every color. I don’t have any orange or green.”
“Go get something from my closet.”
“No.” Shay stood tall, which put her at eye level with her big sister even though Evie wore high heels. “I thought we were both supposed to agree on rules.”
Shay’s smirk came fast. She tried to bite it back, unsuccessfully.
“Really, Shay? Just … whatever.” Evie typed on her cell phone’s display as she backed out of the living room, toward the hallway. “It’s late, I don’t have time for this. Your breakfast is on the counter. We leave in five.”
“But, I already brushed.”
“Guess you’re having mint waffles then.”
Shay sat at the counter and dug into her stack of waffles as Evie marched toward the bathroom.
Max clicked off his TV, tossing the remote on a leather sofa. Shay’s life had become a spectacle and it was his fault. He felt like a complete ass. To top it off, he’d just made her a target. Cyrus was still out there, cooking up who knew what, and the Sinclair sisters looked like leverage on legs.
He stepped onto his balcony. His suite sat high above the other buildings, deep within the city’s heart. He could see the entire West Side, including the ruckus outside Shay’s building twelve blocks away.
His jaw clenched and he climbed onto the balcony’s railing. The least he could do was make sure Shay got to Ling Enterprises safely. Heat prickled Max’s fingertips and he tilted forward, dropping over the balcony’s
side.
The seconds of freefall blew all thoughts from his mind. Cool air chilled his skin and a blustery fire scorched his insides. When the two sensations collided, flames burst into an orb around him and launched his body upward.
He cut through the air, weaving between skyscrapers. Time seemed to slow when he took flight. In the blur of life passing by, everything became clear. He could see his purpose. The unnatural fire that surrounded him and the strength coursing through his veins reminded him why he got to live when the other cadets onboard the spaceship died. Fate had chosen him as a protector.
In a cyclone of flames, Max landed atop Shay’s building. He’d disappointed many people in his twenty-six years, but he wasn’t about to let down fate. Flames crackled, fizzling out as he hurried from scorch marks and into the stairwell.
It wasn’t until Max stood outside Shay’s condo door that he realized the sizzle hadn’t faded from his chest. The stairs thoroughly wiped out the rush of flying. He wasn’t nervous, pretty chill actually, but his powers fluxed inside his body.
After few deep breaths, he lifted his hand to knock. He didn’t get a chance. The door flew open and Shay stumbled back. Like a whirlwind, the fog cleared from his vision and the spikes of power nipping at his flesh dulled to a gentle hum. The mere sight of Shay calmed his nerves, just like it always had when he’d looked at … Jenna.
Before Max could grin at Shay, two dudes dressed like Secret Service agents charged him.
“No, don’t,” Shay yelled as the men pushed past her, but it was too late. Max had already leveled the first guy with one punch. Since the fist was already out of the bag, he let it fly to the second man’s gut. The man’s large body sailed down the apartment building hallway. Max turned to face Shay as the guy crashed to the floor beside the elevator.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for Shay’s hand. She brushed past him, gawking at the two downed bodies.
“Yeah, but you broke our bodyguards.”
“Ah.” Max waved toward the guy at his feet, who groaned into the carpet. “These guys are useless. It’s like bringing a knife to a bazooka fight.”