Super Powers: The New Super Humans, Book Two

by T. M. Franklin

  “What? What happened?”

  It doesn't matter. None of them matter.

  “Shut up!” he shouted. “Stop talking to me!”

  “Beck?” Wren's hands were stroking his cheeks again. “Beck, it's okay. You can fight it.”

  I can give you everything you want.

  “No! Leave me alone!” Beck squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently. “No!”

  You don't want that. I'm part of you now. We're one. We're the same. We—

  “We're not the same,” Beck all but snarled, releasing Gina as he opened his eyes and took a stumbling step back. He inhaled sharply through his nose and tried to calm his racing heart. “We're not the same.” He stood, legs braced apart as he focused on a churning feeling deep inside him. The anger and hate he'd fanned into a flame. He pictured it, a black pulsing mass in the depths of his gut.

  “Get. Out.”

  His right hand flew forward, the glowing glove brighter than ever, nearly blinding as the light pulsed along his skin. He squinted as black smoke poured from his fingertips, winding its way back toward Gina, who he just realized was suspended six inches off the ground.

  Beck let out a breath as the last of the darkness left him, curling around Gina’s head before disappearing, sucked into her open mouth. He turned to Wren with a questioning look.

  She was holding his upper arm, watching him carefully. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, suddenly exhausted. “I take it you're the reason we're the only ones that seem to be moving at the moment.”

  She smiled softly. “Stopped time for both of us. Wasn't sure if it'd work, to be honest, but we had to try something to get through to you.”

  He flexed his glowing fingers, the strength still pulsing through him. “I could have hurt you.”

  “You wouldn't have.”

  “You don't know that.”

  She slid her fingers between his, the light wrapping around both of them. “Yeah, I do.”

  He drew in a shaky breath and looked back at Gina, frozen in place and still hovering in mid-air. “What do we do now?”

  Wren squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. Like restarting a paused movie, action around them slowly started up again as Gina floated toward the floor, and landed with a thump as time resumed.

  It wasn't until then that Beck realized how silent everything had been—as the voices and sobs and even the squeak of the swinging front door drifted toward him. Tru let out a pained moan, jolting Beck into action and he rushed across the room, falling to his knees before her.

  “Tru? Tru, are you okay? Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Please be okay.” It wasn't until he reached out to touch her that he realized his hand had stopped glowing.

  “Beck?” Tru touched her head and blinked at the blood that came away on her fingertips. “What happened?”

  “Try not to move,” Chloe cautioned. “Maybe we should call an ambulance?”

  “No, no.” Tru started to get up, tugging on Beck's arm for balance. “I'm okay. I just want to get out of here and away from—” She froze, looking over Beck's shoulder. “Where's Mom?”

  Beck and the others turned toward where Gina had collapsed on the floor.

  But the front door was open. And Gina was gone.

  “Beck? Beck, wake up. Someone's here.” Tru shoved on his shoulder and he rolled over, pulling his pillow over his face.

  “Tell them to go away.”

  “It's two in the afternoon. You've been sleeping forever!”

  “Just five more minutes,” he mumbled.

  Tru's voice took on that sing-songy, teasing lilt that had Beck wondering why he ever wanted his sister to live under the same roof with him. “But it's your girlfriend . . .” She bounced on the bed a couple times. “Okay, if you really want me to tell her to go away . . .” Tru started to get up, but Beck reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.

  “Shut up,” he muttered when she started to laugh.

  He rolled out of bed and couldn't keep the small smile off his face when Tru bumped his hip with her own. A Band-Aid on her forehead was the only remnant of her injury from the night before. His eyes went straight to it and a wave of guilt nearly took his breath away. He opened his mouth to apologize—again—but Tru punched him in the shoulder.

  “Stop it,” she snapped. “It wasn't your fault, so stop feeling bad.”

  “But I'm—”

  “I said, stop it.” She hugged him briefly before heading for the door. “Hurry up. She's waiting.”

  In the end, they had called the police to report Gina, but the cops hadn't been able to turn up any sign of her. She'd disappeared without a trace—no car, no witnesses, no indication that she'd used a credit card or ATM that night.

  Beck didn't really care, to be honest. He was counting his blessings. With Gina out of the picture, his dad was the next of kin, and he could only hope that Gina stayed gone and Tru stayed with him. He'd returned to his dad's house the night before, barely able to let Tru out of his sight. It had felt right with her sleeping just down the hall, in the room they'd readied for her, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to return to Archie Hall.

  He stumbled down the stairs, rubbing his eyes, with Tru close on his heels. She flew out the door, saying she was heading over to a friend’s house, apparently none the worse for wear, despite the night’s events. She’d been unconscious for most of the more supernatural happenings, and a little out of it for the rest, and his father had been too focused on her injuries to notice Beck’s glowing hand or the weird black smoke. In his mind—and in Tru’s, for that matter—it had been just another time Tru’s mother had hurt her. It was sad, really, that it wasn’t that unusual for her, and Tru’s resiliency had come at a price over the years.

  But she would be okay. Beck would make sure of it.

  He yawned and walked into the kitchen. To his surprise, Wren wasn't alone. Chloe, Ethan, and Miranda sat around the table, looking up at him expectantly.

  “Don't you people ever sleep?” he asked, yanking open the fridge door to grab some orange juice.

  “It's Miranda's fault,” Chloe said with a yawn, but she smiled at her friend's offended gasp.

  “It's not my fault,” she said. “I just thought that we needed to get all of this new information down while it was fresh in our minds.” She whipped out a laptop from somewhere and started tapping at the keys.

  “How'd you even find me?” Beck took a gulp of juice, then rolled his eyes as Chloe gave him a wry look. “Oh yeah, right,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I guess I have to get used to psychic friends knowing where I am at any given moment.”

  “I'm not psychic,” Chloe said, in the voice of one who's made the argument many times before.

  “Psychic-ish,” Miranda muttered in the same tone.

  “Anyway,” Wren said, drawing out the word. “Is Tru okay?”

  Beck looked toward the door where he'd last seen her. He still dealt with the worry, but knew there was only so much he could do to protect her. “She's okay,” he said quietly. “Resilient, you know?”

  “How about you?” Ethan asked.

  Beck shrugged. He didn't even know the answer to that question.

  “It wasn't your fault,” Wren said.

  “Sure feels like it.”

  “But it's not,” Ethan said. “I get it. I don't remember much, but that—the feeling. I don't know if I could have stopped if it hadn't left me.”

  “Which begs the question . . . why,” Miranda said, typing on her computer. “It left you, but Beck had to fight it off—push it out.”

  “So they were what? Possessed?” Wren asked.

  “No,” Beck said, clearing his throat and taking a sip of juice. “Not possessed. Not really.” In the ensuing silence, he eyed everyone watching him closely. “It's not like I wasn't in control. It's like he—it—convinced me to do what it wanted. I believed what it was telling me.”

  “Interesting,” Miranda murmured, fingers flyin
g over the keys while she recorded his comments.

  “That's one way to put it,” Beck replied flatly as he put the juice back and dragged another chair over to the table. “Creepy. Invasive. Horrifying. Those might be the words I'd choose.” He felt fingers intertwine with his and glanced over to see Wren watching him, eyes wide and sad.

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

  Beck squeezed her hand in reassurance. “It was like I was two people.” He tried to find the right words to explain what had happened. “One was watching it all. Detached almost. The other—” He shook his head.

  “See, and I hardly remember anything at all,” Ethan said quietly, eyes narrowed as he tried to focus. “It's almost like it was toying with me, and then gave up. Turned its attention elsewhere.”

  “Like it wanted to use you,” Wren said. “But it wanted to take Beck.”

  Beck shuddered. That's exactly what it felt like.

  Chloe cleared her throat. “I know this is hard,” she said. “But like Ethan said, he doesn't remember much, so you're basically the only one with first-hand knowledge of what we're dealing with here. It was inside you, but you were able to resist it somehow. It's the first indication that this thing—whatever it is—has a weakness, or can maybe even be defeated.”

  “I don't know what to tell you,” Beck replied. “It's all such a blur. It—” He ran his free hand over his head, scratching lightly. “It played off my own emotions—fear, hate, anger,” he said slowly, remembering the turmoil he'd felt. How it had settled once he started listening to the voice—believing it. “It can't—I don't think it can make you do anything. It just convinces you that you want to do it, if that makes sense.

  “It's like it feeds off the hate or something,” he said, eyes narrowing as he concentrated on what he'd felt as he held Gina by the throat. “It makes it stronger. Gives it power.”

  “Do you know what it is?” Wren asked.

  Beck blinked and took a deep breath, shaking his head as he searched for the answer. He could only come up with one word that seemed to fit.

  “Chaos,” he said.

  Fifty miles away in the corner unit of a cheap motel, Gina and the chaos inside her sat and looked out a window at the pouring rain. She sipped lukewarm coffee and idly spun her ring around her finger as she waited for further instructions.

  She knew she had failed. Wondered what her punishment would be. Half expected to die at any moment.

  And couldn't seem to amass even a shred of emotion about that. No fear. No remorse. Nothing.

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

  A heavy sigh resounded inside her, and she could feel it vibrating against her bones from head to toe.

  “You failed me,” It said.

  “I know.”

  “Don't do it again.”

  She felt the power tingling under her skin and let out a breath, relieved It hadn't abandoned her. She took another sip of coffee and smiled.

  “I won't.”

  “I found something.” Miranda slid into a booth at the coffee shop with the others a week later, carefully setting her open laptop before her. It had become a bit of a habit to meet up in the early evenings to discuss Chloe's visions, Miranda's research, and any other odd happenings around town.

  Which seemed to be increasing—fights, vandalism, fires. At the moment, it seemed to be focused on the downtown area and hadn’t filtered out to the campus much, but they all agreed that it was only a matter of time. Especially if Chloe's visions were right, which so far, they seemed to be.

  Beck scooted a little closer to Wren to make room, and smiled when she leaned into the touch. Across the table, Ethan and Chloe sat up a little straighter at Miranda's words.

  “Found something about what?” Beck asked.

  Miranda's fingers flew over the keyboard. “I took a picture of that symbol on the chest,” she replied. “I wasn't able to find anything on an Internet search, so I posted it in a couple of online forums—history, mythology geeks, that kind of thing.” She stopped with a smug smile and spun the laptop around toward them. “Voila!”

  Taking up half the screen was a grainy image of an old book, faded brown-leather maybe, with what appeared to be a metal seal in the center. The design on the seal—

  “That's the symbol on the chest,” Chloe murmured, reaching out to touch the screen and run her fingers along the intersecting spirals.

  “Exactly,” Miranda said with a grin. “And there's more. My cousin, Maia, is an anthropology major over at the Seattle campus of WA U. I sent the picture of the book over to her and she found a copy of it on microfilm in the library’s special collections.”

  “Well, don't keep us in suspense,” Wren said, her knee jiggling against Beck's. “What is it? What did it say?”

  Miranda visibly deflated. “Not much. It's in some ancient language so she has to talk to her professor and try and find someone who can translate it. She did say it seems to be a record of something called The Order.”

  “What could that be?” Beck asked, not expecting an answer.

  Miranda shrugged. “No idea. But get this, Maia just happened to transfer to the Anthro department here to work on her thesis. She's been here since the beginning of the semester and I had no idea.”

  “Well, isn't that a coincidence,” Wren said.

  “Right.” Ethan scoffed. “I don't think there is such a thing anymore.”

  “She said I can come meet her tomorrow after class and take a look.” She looked around the table loftily. “Of course, if anyone would care to join me . . .”

  Chloe laughed. “Like you could stop me.”

  “If you're going, I'm going,” Ethan said, dropping an arm over her shoulder. “Anything to finally get some answers about all of this.”

  Beck nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Well, that settles that.” Wren lifted her coffee in a mock toast. “Looks like we're all going.”

  They tapped their cups together. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

  They met at the coffee shop the next afternoon and gathered around a table while they waited for Wren to finish her shift. They chatted about unimportant things, but Beck could feel the tension. Knew—like the others did—that they were finally on the verge of getting some answers about everything that had been going on. He wasn't sure, however, that they'd like what they found out.

  It was like the world was speeding up around them, hurtling toward an inevitable conclusion that they were in no way prepared for. But maybe Miranda's cousin could help them at least learn what they were dealing with. Or how they might come out of all this alive.

  “How did I not know you had a cousin at WA U?” Chloe asked quietly, eyeing Miranda across the table.

  Miranda gulped down the last of her latte before answering. “She grew up in Wisconsin,” she said. “I'd only met her a couple times myself before she moved to Seattle to go to school. She's been over to my house for long weekends—Thanksgiving, too—but I guess you guys never crossed paths.”

  Chloe nodded. “It's just . . . It kind of messes with your mind, you know? With everything going on, and you just happened to have a cousin who's studying at a nearby university who just happens to have access to this mysterious book.” She chewed on her lip, looking out the window.

  Beck cleared his throat. “It's like we're all puppets. And someone else is pulling the strings.”

  Chloe glanced at him. “Yeah. Not sure I like the feeling.”

  “Can I get you guys anything else?” The barista, Dylan, appeared at the table and started to stack up the empty cups and plates.

  Miranda handed him her cup and they both fumbled it, Dylan barely managing to catch it before it hit the table. Pink-cheeked and wide-eyed, they exchanged sorries and for a moment, Beck relished in the normality of it.

  So much of his life was anything but normal lately.

  Dylan backed away and a few minutes later Wren approached, yanking her jacket on. “You guys ready for this?”

&nbs
p; Were they? Beck wasn't sure. But he also knew there was no looking back.

  They walked in silence to the campus as the sun slipped below the horizon and passed the library, the distant sound of Friday night dorm parties mingling with the hum of streetlights. Miranda led the way, texting her cousin when they came close to a large brick building, and she bounced up the steps just as a tall redhead swung open one of the glass doors and waved.

  Chloe stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs.

  “What is it?” Ethan asked, glancing up to where Miranda was hugging the girl tightly, then back at Chloe.

  “I've seen her before,” she replied.

  “I thought you said you'd never met,” Beck said as he, Wren, and Ethan formed a semi-circle around her.

  “We haven't.”

  It took a moment for Beck to catch on—longer than either Wren or Ethan, if their sharp inhales were any indication.

  “You mean, you saw her,” he said finally, “in the window.”

  Chloe nodded. “She's there. In the field when we fight.”

  “She's one of us.” Wren sighed and nudged Beck's arm with her own. “Another puppet?”

  Beck sighed, but didn't respond. What was there to say?

  “Hey, you guys coming?” Miranda called from the top of the steps.

  They started forward and Ethan asked Chloe in a low voice, “Are you going to tell her?”

  “I kind of have to, don't I?”

  Beck held Wren back as the others climbed the stairs. When she looked at him questioningly he felt his cheeks heat and gazed down at his feet, his palm going sweaty where he held her hand.

  “I just realized I never thanked you,” he said. “You know, for bringing me back. For keeping me from hurting Gina.”

  “You don't have to thank me.”

  He looked up, his nerves eased a bit by the warmth in her eyes. “Yeah, I do. I think . . . I think I would have killed her, Wren. If you hadn't been there—”

  She squeezed his hand and took a step closer. “I was there, so there's no point thinking about what might have been. It's over now. You fought it off.”