Ex-Cape | Book 2 | Ex-Cape From A Small Town

by Wentzel, Daniel

  Molly didn’t even know where to begin with that answer. “No. Just… no.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The story is long.”

  “Does it have to do with that green coat?”

  Molly looked over at her mother’s coat. Bri was getting too good at that sort of thing. Of course, since the girl had been coming over every Saturday for months, it wasn’t surprising she could recognize Molly’s coat, and more importantly a coat she would never, ever have bought.

  “It does.”

  “But you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I do not.”

  Bri looked down at her brownies and shifted her weight awkwardly. “I guess you need me to go.”

  Molly took a breath. “No.” She tried to sound inviting, but the best she could manage was tolerant. “Practice is essential for improvement. Brownies on the dining room table. I’m going to go set up.”

  She opened her basement door and went downstairs. The price of Bri’s silence on the subject of Molly’s secret identity had been these martial arts lessons. The girl had no natural talent for it, but she put in a great deal of effort.

  Molly set down the exercise mats. She had never found a use for her finished basement except as an exercise space. For her lessons with Bri, she had been forced to push the elliptical machine and the weight set up against the walls.

  She began to stretch her legs and lower back. The rhythm was familiar, though the tension in her body was of a different magnitude and source. As she changed the focus of her stretches, she found her shoulders had all but seized up. Slowly, she forced herself into a more erect posture and felt the warm burn in her muscles.

  Bri came down the stairs and took up her own stretching routine. Molly watched but did not comment. Bri needed to learn what her body required for herself, and the fact was that some stretches worked better for one person than another.

  Molly needed to get out of her own head for a while, so during the stretching, she engaged in some small talk.

  “How is the new job coming?”

  Bri made a face. “I still don’t know the first thing about fishing or hunting. Half the customers who ask me questions must think I’m a total loser.”

  “Sounds like you haven’t found your niche yet.”

  Bri smiled. “Oh, I’m really good in the camp barbeque section. I have to tell most of the men that the spice rub I’m suggesting is the one my dad uses, cause I don’t think a girl is supposed to know how to barbeque.”

  Molly snorted. Bri’s father couldn’t figure out the automatic igniter on their gas stove. He did absolutely zero cooking, including on a grill.

  “So what did we say we were going over today?”

  Bri turned, eager to begin. “Didn’t you say you were going to show me that stick fighting stuff?”

  Molly winced. She had indeed promised that. Bri had been intensely interested in weapons training, and even though their instruction time was mostly centered on defense, Molly had to admit that it was a lot easier to defend yourself with a weapon than without one. Basic stick training was something which never hurt to know.

  “I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait until next week.”

  “How come?”

  “Because I have a couple of the bamboo sticks upstairs, but they’re in the guest room.”

  “And the guest room is where the owner of the green coat is hiding out?”

  Molly felt her stomach give way, but simply nodded. When Candy had told the family that she wasn’t going to college, Molly’s mother had acted the same way. There had been a few moments of shouting. She had then listened to what her daughter had to say. Then, Lydia had nodded once, walked up the stairs, and hidden in her bedroom for three hours.

  The only difference here was that Lydia was in Molly’s guest room, and she had Buster with her. The dog had followed her into the room as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Molly could almost swear that her pooch had shot her an exasperated look before the door had closed and locked behind him.

  “Is one of your superhero friends hiding out there?”

  Molly raised a stern eyebrow. “If that were the case, how likely do you think it would be that you’d get an answer to your question?”

  Bri dropped her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve told you before, Bri, my past as Etherya isn’t something for idle chit chat. It’s a dangerous thing.”

  “I know,” the girl insisted. “I don’t talk about it with anyone else, I promise. I just figured since I was talking to you…”

  “All right.” Molly held up her hands calmingly. “It just bore repeating. Let’s work on your kata.”

  Bri didn’t groan, but Molly knew it was an effort. The girl didn’t care much for the kata. She took a breath and took up the starting stance. Molly stood, arms crossed, and watched her. The movements weren’t terribly complicated, but Molly could see that the girl still needed work on some of them.

  When Bri had finished, she looked apprehensively at Molly. “I did practice, I promise.”

  “I know you did. You’re improving. I just want to clean up two or three of the moves.”

  “Two or three?” Bri’s face fell.

  “Out of the twenty separate moves you just did, yes.” Molly’s tone wasn’t exactly reassuring, but she left no doubt that Bri’s expectations shouldn’t be any higher. “Let me see your high block again.”

  Bri sunk back into her stance and shot her right arm up so that she looked like she was simultaneously blocking the sun and looking at her watch. She held the pose.

  “Your arm isn’t up high enough. You want to prevent something from coming into contact with your head.” She let that sink in and took a step away. “Try again, but remember not to go too high. Economy of motion is also important.”

  Molly suddenly advanced on Bri with an overhand strike. The girl’s arm met hers in the same block, but this time, it was in the right position.

  “Better,” Molly conceded, “but you twisted your arm. Do you see how you’re catching me with the meaty part of your arm instead of the bony part? If it’s a real attack, it’s going to hurt you either way. If you hit with your bone, you’re causing the same pain to your attacker.”

  Bri blinked and relaxed her stance. “That’s more vicious than you usually talk.”

  Molly regarded her seriously. “If anyone attacks you, I want them to regret the decision. More importantly, I want you to want that. Most fights end after a couple of punches. They end even sooner if you can get someone to rethink violence as an option after the first attack.”

  They repeated the move three more times, then repeated it again with Bri’s left arm. Molly asked the girl to start her kata over. She threw the attacks Bri was supposed to be defending against to let the girl get the feel of actually defending herself. She could watch the girl’s mind working. The impact of the attacks put the moves she’d been practicing into perspective.

  They were both breathing a little more heavily when the kata finished. Molly tossed the girl a towel from the pile she had in the laundry room and let Bri wipe off some of the sweat.

  “I wanted to ask you something.” Bri shook out her arms. “You know how you said you didn’t want to teach me how to throw a punch?”

  Molly shook her head. “What I said was that you didn’t want me to teach you how to punch. I never quite got the knack for it.”

  Bri nodded. “Well, somebody else offered to teach me some martial arts.”

  Molly blinked in surprise. “Oh. Well, if you’re looking for a different teacher, I’m not offended.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking of seeing him instead of you.” Bri shook her head more violently than the situation merited. “I was hoping to take classes from you both.”

  “I suppose that will be fine. Two teachers will probably contradict each other at some point, but you’re a smart girl. Just because two statements are at odds with each other doesn’t mean they’re no
t both true in different contexts.”

  Bri cocked her head the way she did in class when she came across a thought that was new to her. “Does that mean…”

  “Stop.” Molly held up a hand. “You must learn to translate wisdom for yourself.”

  “Particularly when you’ve got so many cobwebs in your brain?”

  “An acre of wisdom does not give you leave to be a wise acre.”

  Bri snorted. “Do you even know what that means?”

  “Stop.” Molly held up her hand in exactly the same way. “You must learn to translate wisdom for yourself.”

  They both chuckled. Molly hoped it would make her feel better, but her chest still felt hollow.

  “So who’s your other sensei?”

  “Do you know Tony Archer?”

  “Yes.” He’d been showing up in her path quite a lot lately.

  “Well, we’re kind of related, and now that he’s back from the military, he told me he’d teach me some of what he learned there.”

  Molly tried to repress the gulp in her throat. Military martial arts did not shy away from lethal force. Molly wasn’t sure if Bri would be psychologically ready for that. On the other hand, Tony was probably smart enough not to expose Bri to that kind of extreme violence. Probably.

  “So, you think it will be okay?”

  Molly shrugged. “As long as you can do two different classes, work at the sporting goods store, bake every waking hour, and still keep up your grades, I don’t see any problem.”

  Bri smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Free form sparring. Get your pads on.”

  Bri gulped. While she had been diligently practicing, she was no good at sparring. Molly and Bri suited up with elbow and knee pads as well as chest protectors. The helmets had been too expensive, so for the time being, Molly simply didn’t aim her attacks at Bri’s head.

  The first match lasted all of four seconds. Bri hit the mat with no grace at all, remembering only belatedly to slap at the mat in an effort to counter the force of the fall. Molly stomped her foot on the girl’s chest, pulling the move so the blow was no more powerful than a tap on the shoulder.

  “Do you know what you did wrong?”

  “Economy of motion?”

  Molly nodded. “Or rather, the lack thereof. You threw everything you had into a simple block, and you weren’t ready for what came next.”

  Neither, evidently was Molly.

  “What is this?”

  “Mom!” Molly spun around. She hadn’t heard her mother come down the stairs. Lydia Martin stared at her daughter with disapproval.

  “Let me guess. This is your sidekick?”

  Molly carefully did not look at Bri. She suspected the girl would react to the word “sidekick” with rather more enthusiasm than Molly could cope with.

  “Mom, this is Bri Duncan. She goes to the local school where I sub.”

  It was a calculated response. Lydia had been a teacher until her youngest daughter had entered junior high. Molly had hoped it would touch off her mother’s sympathy. It was a vain hope.

  “And you’re teaching her how to punch and kick.”

  “I’m teaching her self-defense, yes.” Molly kept her tone as neutral as possible without defensiveness or uncertainty. “I’m not training her to become a vigilante. Bri is a friend.”

  Lydia stared imperiously down from the basement stairs. She evidently decided not to make any more of an issue about Bri. “I’d like you to take me back to the town square. I have work to do, and it’s not getting done here.”

  Molly braced herself against the pain of her mother’s coldness. “All right. Give me a few minutes to clean up.”

  Lydia nodded regally and marched up the stairs.

  “I’m sorry, Bri. We have to cut this short today.”

  “No, I understand.” Bri undid the Velcro on her chest protector. She and Molly removed their pads. Bri looked at Molly nervously. “Do you want me to take care of this? I’ll clean up and lock up when I go.”

  “That might be for the best.” Molly closed her eyes against the beginnings of a headache. “Thank you.”

  “Your mom looked mad.”

  “That’s because she is.”

  Molly walked softly up the stairs. Her mother sat on the chair closest to the door, clutching her purse, her coat already on.

  “I have to change.” She hadn’t had time to work up much of a sweat, but the chest protector had put some interesting wrinkles in her shirt. “I’ll just be another minute.”

  Lydia nodded acknowledgement but said nothing.

  Molly ran up the stairs and forced herself not to take too long choosing a new shirt. Sometimes, when things looked the bleakest, the simplest decisions took the longest. The black sweatshirt went with pretty much anything.

  She came downstairs again and grabbed her jacket. Her mother said nothing as they left, only gave a farewell pat to Buster’s head. Molly put the key in the ignition but stopped before she turned it.

  “Mom…”

  “No.”

  Molly blinked. “I didn’t…”

  “No. You’ve been keeping your silence for years now. I need more than just an hour to acclimate. Now start the car, please.”

  Obeying was instinctive. They were two blocks away before either of them spoke.

  “Did you know that Holly was engaged?”

  Molly swallowed. “I saw it in the paper last week.”

  “Were you planning on being at the wedding?”

  Molly hadn’t been able to make any plans in that regard. Missing the wedding was unthinkable. Figuring out the logistics of attending and maintaining the lies had been exhausting to even think of.

  “I really want to come.”

  “I’ll tell your sister to set a place for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I will not lie for you, Molly. If you come, I won’t let you lie to your family anymore.”

  Molly took a deep breath. She wanted to argue that point, but she knew her mother too well to try to get her to see reason. “I understand. If I decide that I can’t go under those terms, I’ll call Holly myself.”

  “You would miss your sister’s wedding…”

  “Rather than let you set an ultimatum, which is part of what I’ve been trying to avoid for all these years?” Molly shot a glance at her mother. “Maybe you want to take your own advice and give yourself time to process more before you try to start dictating things to me.”

  “I don’t care for your tone.”

  “You may not agree with my choices, and don’t think for a moment that I don’t understand how much I’ve hurt you, Mom.” She pulled over onto the side of the road. It was better to not drive angry. “But I had some good reasons for making the choices I made. Do you think I haven’t considered calling you a thousand times?”

  “You abandoned us! There is no reason good enough for that.”

  “Maybe not,” Molly replied quietly. “And when you decide you’re ready to hear my side of the story in its entirety, you can make that judgment call.”

  Lydia bristled, but closed her eyes, trying to reign in her temper. Molly exhaled once and then started to drive the car again.

  “On a different topic, there is something you should know.” Molly kept almost all the frustration out of her voice. “Matthew Nelson is a criminal mastermind. He’s a blackmailer and a murderer. I can’t prove that, but it’s true.”

  “And how,” began her mother, skepticism heading towards sarcasm, “do you know that?”

  “Damselfly told me.”

  There was a brief pause. “I never liked that girl. She needs to cover her navel.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t think you’re lying to me, but you might be mistaken. We don’t want to have a discussion about your honesty or your judgment right now.”

  Molly tried not to sigh or frown or, worst of all, wince. She pulled into a parking space which was as close
as they would get to town square with all of the barricades.

  Her mother dug around in her purse, then came out with a pen and a small tablet of paper. “This,” she said writing, “is my cell phone number. Please send me a text so I have yours.”

  She tore off the page from the tablet, deposited the page in the cup holder, and opened her door.

  “Good bye, Molly.”

  She was out of the car as though the seat had caught fire. Molly watched her mother walk away with a hurried pace.

  She reached for the note and pulled her phone from out of her coat pocket. The smiley face seemed banal, but Molly didn’t have the strength for anything else.

  While her phone was in her hand, Molly made another decision. She dialed the number listed under “BB”.

  “Hi, it’s Molly.”

  “Sorry, you have the wrong number.”

  The line went dead.

  Molly blinked. That had definitely been Beth’s voice. She didn’t have the wrong number, and she knew Beth would have known her.

  So there had to be another reason why the girl had disconnected the phone. Teenage angst notwithstanding, it seemed more likely that Beth was not in a place where she could have a conversation. It made sense that Matt Nelson was keeping her pretty close.

  Molly groaned. It was time to take stock of her situation and see what she could accomplish:

  Bring down Matt Nelson: Not possible, unless somehow Beth had something.

  Talk to Beth: Not possible at the moment.

  Reconcile with her mother: Not possible now, may not ever be possible.

  Make up with one or both of her boyfriends: Too soon.

  Decide which boyfriend she wanted to see exclusively: Too hard.

  Punching her subconscious in the face for inserting that last one: Too meta.

  Find The Aerialist: Maybe.

  So the maybe won out. As Molly thought of it, although she still didn’t know who the man was, she had a fairly good idea he’d be at the debate tonight. You didn’t set yourself up as the town’s defender, and then miss an event like this.