Dad hugged me and grabbed his car keys, telling me he’d pick up dinner for us on the way home.
I got dressed for another day of training. I brushed my teeth while staring sadly at my short hair in the mirror. I still missed having long hair, but in Uncle Dan’s mind, long hair was a liability in a fight. Cutting it last fall had been a signal of my commitment to the supernormal world.
I blinked, my toothbrush stilled, my body went cold. It wasn’t my face in the mirror anymore. Emma’s pale face gazed back at me. Her hair, once shorter than mine, had grown almost to her shoulders. She ran a hand over it in an attempt to smooth it down. Then a shiver went through me and I lowered my toothbrush, gripping it like a sword. My mirror no longer reflected my pretty bathroom. Instead, I saw a long row of showers and many women in various stages of undress.
When she didn’t acknowledge me, I decided Emma couldn’t see me. She gave up on her hair and tugged at the neck of her prison jumpsuit. Suddenly she leaned closer to the mirror, her gaze looking through me, and muttered fiercely, “I can do it. It’s what I’m meant to do.” Then she gave a big, fake smile before turning her back to the mirror.
I jumped back, dropping my toothbrush. When I bent to pick it up, I gasped in relief to see my own bathroom around me instead of the prison bathroom.
Okay, that was freaky. I set my toothbrush on the sink and leaned against the countertop, breathing in and out to slow my thudding heart. Was it a vision? Or was I just so tired and worried that I … what? Thought of Emma in prison? It didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t be having visions. No one did.
I sighed and pushed myself away from the counter. I should probably tell a ‘rent. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Or if it mattered. The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to worry them. I decided I’d tell someone about whatever I was seeing as soon as it seemed like it was the right time. Maybe when things were calmer. There was enough going on with all the strange creatures coming to Portland.
I kept to a normal pace as I ran down the quiet, Sunday morning streets. Sometimes it was nice to slow down and look around at the world to remind myself why I worked so hard at protecting normals. Other joggers nodded at me as I ran past them. I tried not to blow past them too quickly while returning the nod. A couple of brightly dressed cyclists zipped by me. They were enjoying the mostly car-free, Sunday morning streets, weaving in and out of the bike lanes. Breakfast lines were forming at some of the popular restaurants. Sleepy folks held cups of coffee, and chatted with each other while they waited for a fancy breakfast. I drew closer to the industrial district near the waterfront, and smiled at the sight of downtown across the Willamette. Sunlight filtered through soft clouds, glinting off the buildings and giving the scene a clean, fresh look.
I started to speed up when I crossed over MLK Boulevard, but someone called out, “Olivia!” Recognizing Harold’s voice, I stopped and saw him standing near the soup kitchen on the corner of Stark. The line was already long, and people were huddling around each other, holding belongings while waiting for a warm meal. I automatically scanned the crowd for any injured folks. I wondered what I’d do if I saw any, since Uncle Alex wasn’t here to cure them with his healing abilities.
“Hi, Harold,” I said when he walked up to me. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine.” He carried a small bag over his shoulder. He looked better than he had yesterday. At least he was dressed more neatly, though the shadows under his eyes and his grim expression were evidence of yesterday’s events. “Is Kevin okay?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, he’s fine.” I didn’t want to get into the extent of Kevin’s injuries. Harold had enough on his mind. In fact, the speed with which he accepted my answer told me he had called me over for more than a Brighthall update.
He took out a small, battered notebook. When he flipped through the pages, I was surprised to see it filled with intricate drawings. He stopped, holding out a page for me to look at. “Have you ever seen this symbol?”
I peered at the sketch of a sunburst behind a house that looked like a child had drawn it. The house was the universal box with a triangle on top. The sunburst was a series of simple lines radiating from the top and sides of the house. I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.” I cocked my head, curious. “Why are you asking me?”
He turned the drawing to look at it. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it all around town lately.” He glanced at me. “This drawing reminds me of some of the hobo signs we use.”
My brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “What’s a hobo sign?”
“Oh,” Harold smiled a little, “just symbols folks on the street draw to warn or help others.” He flipped through his notebook to an empty page, quickly sketching a couple of simple lines. “For example, this one warns of danger in a particular building or area.” He showed me the drawing of a rectangle with a dot inside it. His voice took on a lecturing tone. “This one means you can get food here,” he said, pointing to three lines in the shape of picnic table.
Fascinated by this peek into the homeless world I knew very little about, I asked, “What makes you think the other drawing isn’t a hobo symbol?”
Harold turned the pages back to the sunburst house, tapping his pencil on it. “Because I saw it on your warehouse when I went to erase the other symbol.” At my confused look, he continued, “When Alex is in town, I draw this symbol on your warehouse.” He drew a vertical stick with a line snaking around it. It looked like the Caduceus symbol I’d seen on doctor’s office signs. “This symbol stands for ‘help if sick.’ I put my character under it.” Here he drew a little h with a dot under the curve. “So people in need know they can knock on the door and get help.”
“But when Uncle Alex is gone, there’s no point.”
“Yeah, so I erased it until he returns. Last time, I saw this nearby.” He shrugged. “I just wondered if you knew anything about it.”
I looked at the drawing again. Something about the image tugged at my mind, but I couldn’t dig it up. “I’ll point it out to Aunt Kate. Maybe she’ll think of something.” I raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Is that okay?”
“Sure.” He tucked his notebook back into his coat pocket. “It’s probably nothing to do with you. Tell Kevin I’m glad he’s okay.”
“Thanks.” I watched him walk back to the soup kitchen, nodding and shaking hands with people as he went down the line. As I sometimes did, I wondered what his story was. Why was he on the streets? I’d never found a good time to ask him, and Uncle Alex wouldn’t tell me.
Pondering the mystery drawing, I ran the rest of the way to the warehouse. I took a moment to walk around the perimeter until I found the image on the side of the building. I took a photo of the crude image to show Aunt Kate.
I walked inside to discover Uncle Dan berating Zoe for her poor fencing form. She argued back, “I don’t like swords. They aren’t flexible enough. I like my whip.” She threw down the sabre and stomped off to the other side of the warehouse where sparring bags dangled from the ceiling. She started punching one vigorously.
Hoping Uncle Dan wouldn’t notice me, I slipped quietly over to Aunt Kate’s work area where she sat behind a trio of monitors.
“Hey, Aunt Kate.” I dropped into one of the chairs next to her.
“Good morning, Olivia.” She smiled at me while her fingers kept on typing.
I looked around for Smitty, who had come, gone, and come back a few times since yesterday afternoon. It must be nice to move from place to place so easily. I’d gotten up the courage to ask him a few questions and learned that he had to do a lot of training to use his ability. I asked him if he worried about arriving inside a wall or something. He laughed and said that part of the ability was the power to sense the space he was aiming for. This allowed him to determine if there was anything to worry about and shift if necessary. I didn’t see him in the warehouse, so he must have gone back to Colorado.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I ran into Harol
d this morning.”
“How is he doing?” She stopped typing to focus on me.
“He’s okay. He looked sad, though.” I chewed on my lip for a moment before continuing. “He asked me about this.” I held up my phone to show her the photo of the sunburst house. “It’s drawn on the side of the warehouse.”
“Oh, a hobo symbol, like the ones he draws to show his folks when Alex is in town?”
I rolled my eyes. Of course she knew about hobo signs. She’d probably written an article about them or something. “Have you ever seen this one?”
She pursed her lips, taking the phone from me and zooming in. “No, but it…” She trailed off, too deep in thought to finish her sentence. After a moment, she blinked and seemed to remember I was there. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Do you want a copy of this picture?” I took my phone back.
She shook her head. “I’ll go look at it on the building.”
“Okay.” I stood up, reluctant to start training while Uncle Dan was in a bad mood.
A long beep sounded from Aunt Kate’s workstation. She spun around, tapping a few keys before calling out, “Dan, Zoe, get over here.”
Uncle Dan came over, scowling. “What’s up?” He crossed his arms.
Zoe stopped hitting the boxing bag, zipping up to stand beside me, away from Uncle Dan.
Aunt Kate continued to work. “I think there’s another creature in town. A few minutes ago, I saw a police report from this morning about a man with a spiked tongue scaring a woman as she unloaded her groceries near SE Powell, but there wasn’t enough to start a search.” I realized she’d gone pale. “But now I’m getting a report of an attack near the St. Johns Bridge.”
“That’s nowhere near SE Powell,” I protested.
“We move fast. It moves fast. See a trend here?” Zoe bounced on her toes, eager to be out of the warehouse.
“Or it could have a car,” I suggested.
“Okay, be logical, whatever. So, want us to go out?” Zoe cocked her head at her mother.
“Yes.” Aunt Kate glanced at Uncle Dan. “Will two of them be enough?”
“Hey, we’ll be fine.” Insults made Zoe’s voice high pitched. I nodded vigorously in agreement. Neither of us wanted Uncle Dan out there, looming over us while we hunted.
Uncle Dan said, “If it’s too much for them, they don’t deserve to be hunters.”
Ouch. But at least he wasn’t coming with us. Zoe and I exchanged a glance as I followed her to the lockers where she pulled out her whip and examined it for any damage. Apparently it was fine because she tucked it into her belt.
I sighed, tired. “How’s Kevin doing? Is he coming?” I checked my sword for any nicks. It looked okay, but I made a mental note to hone it soon.
“No.” Zoe met my eyes, her own dark with concern and maybe a little fear. “He’s still healing, but he thinks he’ll be back tomorrow.”
I understood her emotions. It was disconcerting having Kevin out for two days because of an injury. “Good. That’ll be good.” I watched as Uncle Dan came our way with more details about the attack.
Uncle Dan jumped straight into briefing mode. “Okay, Peter called and told us,” he said, referring to Aunt Kate’s husband, who was an ER doctor “Someone came in a few minutes ago with whip-like wounds on his arms and back. The man claimed he was attacked by a man who had a whip inside his mouth instead of a tongue.”
“Gross.” I curled my lip. “How would it eat?”
Zoe snorted out a laugh. Uncle Dan frowned at my flippancy before continuing. “The man says he and a friend were jogging in Cathedral Park when they were attacked. He didn’t know what happened to his friend.”
“Oh.” I sobered. “Okay, so we’re on a possible body search.”
Uncle Dan nodded. “The man described the assailant as a tall, skinny Caucasian man.”
“That’s not really all that helpful.” Zoe zipped up her jacket. “Okay, we’ll let you know what we find out. Come on, Ollie.”
The St. John’s Bridge was about ten miles from the warehouse. Despite our grim mission, it was a nice day to run. The sun cut the early spring, chilly wind and the water glittered as we ran along the waterfront, dodging normal-paced joggers who couldn’t see us through our Glamour.
Cathedral Park was crowded with people walking their dogs, Frisbee players, a group of women practicing hula-hoops, and various folks sitting around chatting, reading, or sleeping. I glanced at Zoe. “Not the greatest conditions to look for a body.” Even though we could use our Glamour, it was hard when there were more people around. And more so when… “Really?” I couldn’t believe it when two cops came into view tailed by Jack in his “I’m a cadet” outfit. Jack was my ex-boyfriend – ex mainly because I wouldn’t tell him my secrets and because he’d hidden the fact that he’d joined the Portland Police cadet program after last fall’s bank robbery.
“Oh great.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “It’s the boy wonder.”
“Zoe, shut up.” I kept my eyes on Jack while edging behind a tree. A few of my nightmares over the past couple of months had involved him patrolling with cops and catching me in action. It was unlikely he could see through the Glamour but still not pleasant to contemplate. Moreover, we didn’t always use the Glamour when we were fighting – it was hard to focus on it sometimes.
Zoe grinned at my attempt to hide. “Come on, based on what Uncle Dan said about the guy who was attacked, we need to go this way.” She pointed to the small beach in the opposite direction from Jack and the cops.
As we headed towards the beach, I glanced back to see the cops questioning a couple who lounged on the grass. Jack stood behind them, writing in a little notebook.
The water was too cold for more than toe-dipping, so the beach was sparsely populated. A lone woman tossed a ball into the water for her black and white dog to retrieve.
I peered around and pointed. “There, that’s where the attack happened.” We stared at the torn-up ground, noting the faint blood spatters and the scraps of clothing. I took a deep breath. “What’s that smell?” It was very faint, too faint for a normal to detect.
“Kind of eau de vomit?” Zoe wrinkled her nose. “Maybe one of the victims threw up?”
“Wouldn’t we see it?” I waved at the ground.
Without another word, feeling the spark of the hunt, we spread out in opposite directions, sniffing for the scent’s trail. When I caught it, I signaled to Zoe, who jogged over.
We followed the revolting smell towards a little thicket of trees at the water’s edge. Some of the trees had water lapping around their trunks. The smell was much stronger the closer we got to the trees. Even a normal would smell it here, albeit faintly.
I shared an apprehensive look with Zoe; both of us knew what we were going to find in the thicket. Side-by-side, we moved carefully into the shade.
“Ah no…” Zoe sighed at the confirmation of our fears.
What was left of a man lay tangled in a bush, blood pooling underneath. The only skin left on his body was his face, frozen in a horrible grimace of pain. From the neck down, the rest of his skin was gone, with only a few strips left hanging off the fat and muscles like sad little streamers, reminders of his life. Under each armpit was a gaping hole, as if someone or something had pulled out…an internal organ, maybe. I swallowed hard, the smell and sight of the mangled body making me queasy.
Zoe was pale and sweating as she crouched down, careful not to touch anything as she took photos of the man. She angled a look up at me. “What do you think could have done this?”
Fighting the urge to simultaneously run away and throw up, I circled around, staring at the flesh still dangling from his ribs and legs. “Um, well, it wasn’t the cockroach cluster. What’s left doesn’t look melted. And there’s still meat on him.” I coughed down the urge to vomit. “Ah, I need some air.” I darted out of the trees and bent over, breathing the slightly fresher air to clear the smell of blood and rotting flesh from my nostrils
. I cursed my sensitive nose; I could still smell the poor guy’s body.
Zoe emerged a few minutes after me. She was still pale but looked better than I felt. “Did you hurl?”
“No.” I straightened up. “Sorry about that.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and hunched in embarrassment.
“No worries.” Zoe slipped her phone in her pocket. “That was rough. I told Uncle Dan to call in an anonymous tip, so we’d better get out of here.” She looked back at the stand of trees and ran a hand through her hair.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Since my return to the supernormal life, the worst thing I’d seen was Emma killing Hugh – which had been awful but not gruesome. The cockroach cluster’s victim had been bad, but somehow this was worse.
“Not this bad.” Zoe drew a breath as if she was going to say more but just shook her head.
“Okay, let’s go.” I could see people approaching from the other end of the park.
As I followed my cousin, my head spun with thoughts. What could do that to a man? Was it a supernormal beast? And why was it here? Had someone sent it?
Chapter 5
Since I’d accepted my supernormal heritage and started training, my once normal life had become an exercise in “let’s pretend.” Let’s pretend I’m a normal. Let’s pretend I’m average at sports. Let’s pretend the knowledge imparted by my teachers didn’t leave out all the history made by supernormals.
I began my latest round of “let’s pretend” first thing Monday morning. As I walked up the wide front steps of my high school, I saw Anna sitting on the concrete railing, hunched over her phone. She wore all black. Leggings, long sleeved V-neck shirt, and black boots. She’d even added black streaks to her blonde hair. It was a grim look for her. She usually had a pop of color in her hair or outfit, usually in both. On Friday, she’d declared her desire for spring with streaks of hot pink hair framing her face and a flowered dress over jeans.
The Supernormal Legacy_Book 2_Root Page 4