Super Powers: The New Super Humans, Book Two

by T. M. Franklin

  “Well, I couldn't have done it without you.”

  Wren huffed out a quiet laugh. “That settles it then. We're both awesome.”

  Beck shook his head and grinned. “Yeah, we kind of are.” This time, he squeezed her hand. “Especially you.”

  Wren blushed, her pale skin going pink and he reached up to touch her cheek, mesmerized for a moment at the contrast between his skin and hers—dark and light, rough and so, so soft.

  He leaned in, his gaze locking on her wide, blue eyes. Her breath caught as his lips brushed against hers and he took that as permission to deepen the kiss. His fingers slid around the nape of her neck and he felt Wren's fists curl into the sides of his t-shirt, her breath soft against his mouth as they broke apart, only to come together once again.

  “Hey!”

  They jumped at the sound of Ethan's shout, blushing and short of breath but smiling widely when their eyes met.

  “You guys going to make out all day or do you plan to join us at some point?” he called from the top of the stairs.

  “Yeah, yeah, we're coming!” Beck shouted back as he grabbed Wren's hand and the two of them headed toward the door.

  Ethan grinned and went back inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” Wren muttered as they climbed the stairs.

  Beck shrugged as he held the door for her. “To be honest, it doesn't bother me to be caught kissing a pretty girl.”

  She blushed again and Beck smiled. He thought making Wren blush could quickly become his new favorite pastime.

  Well, and kissing her. That was probably his favorite, but the blush thing came in a close second.

  “Besides—” he said, then stopped short as a sudden shiver ran down his spine. He whirled around in the doorway, scanning the darkening shadows, the unmistakable feeling of being watched triggering his nerves.

  A rustle off to his left caught his attention and he saw a woman lurking near a group of trees. She smiled slowly, the streetlights reflecting off her dark eyes.

  Gina.

  “Beck?”

  He jumped and turned to find Wren watching him, a worried look on her face. “You okay?”

  “It's—” He pointed toward the trees with a trembling finger. But Gina was gone.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I thought—” He took a step back outside, the door swinging shut behind him. Beck searched the surrounding area, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, but he saw no sign of his mother. “It was Gina. I swear, I just saw her.”

  “Here?” Wren took his hand, looking around nervously. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he replied. “She's gone now, but I have a feeling it's not for long.”

  Wren squeezed his hand and shivered slightly as she took one more sweeping look at the trees. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I'm good.”

  She tugged on his hand. “Come on. Let's go join the others. Maybe we'll finally get some answers that will tell us how to deal with her—or whatever it is that's inside her.”

  “Maybe.” Beck pulled the door open for Wren and took one last look around before following her inside. He hoped Wren was right. Because he knew first-hand what the thing was inside his mother.

  And he knew that defeating it was going to be next to impossible.

  Gina Talbot had slipped into the shadows, but her eyes remained on the building before her—tall, brick, and stately as were all the buildings scattered on the college campus. Her son and the others disappeared inside, but still she stood, waiting for something.

  Waiting for instructions.

  She could feel It inside her, twisting with rage, and she didn’t dare voice her questions . . . didn’t dare move.

  She’d learned her lesson. It was best to wait, to be patient. The alternative could be painful, to say the least.

  “Let’s go,” It whispered at last.

  She turned and followed the sound of distant sirens, the potential for delicious violence a potent lure to the thing dwelling inside her.

  Something was strange.

  Maia Sheridan couldn't put her finger on what caused the odd sense of déjà vu that accompanied the arrival of her cousin, Miranda, and her friends. She'd met them at the door to the Anthro building and pulled Miranda into a quick hug, but couldn't shake that unsettling feeling.

  “I didn't realize this was a party,” she'd said, eyeing the group at the bottom of the stairs.

  Her cousin laughed. “Well, it's a group project so I, uh, brought the group along.” She didn't meet Maia's eyes for some reason, giving the impression it might not have been the whole story, but Maia didn't have time to pursue the issue before Miranda pointed behind her at a pretty blonde, then a petite, dark-haired girl.

  “The tall one's Wren. Then that's Chloe, Ethan and Beck.” She gestured at two tall, muscular guys—one blond, the other dark-skinned with a shaved head. Miranda raised her voice, calling toward them. “Hey, you guys coming?”

  They nodded and started up the stairs, and for some reason, Maia couldn't take her eyes off Chloe. There was something familiar about her. Miranda had mentioned Chloe in the past—they were best friends after all—but Maia had never met her personally.

  And yet, there was something about her . . .

  “You okay?” Miranda asked, squeezing her elbow.

  “Yeah, sure.” Maia started, shaking her head and blowing a red curl out of her eyes. “Well, come on. I'm all set up for you guys.”

  The group followed Maia through the quiet hall—the building was all but empty with Christmas break starting in a few days—to a narrow stairway in the back. They went down two flights to the basement, and it was like going back several decades. Where the school's main library had been updated over the years with comfortable chairs, warm lighting and the latest technology, the Anthro and History research department in the basement was a mess of microfiche, old newspapers, drawers crammed full of historical documents nobody had time to digitize, and in a small room in the northeast corner, the so-called special collections section. It was Maia's favorite place to be, the shelves along three walls lined with copies of ancient texts—a few originals even. It was like a secret haven, dedicated to the past, the only nod to the present was a small research center in the corner comprised of a laptop, combination printer/scanner, and another microfiche projector.

  They walked into the room and Maia noticed Ethan and Beck—she wasn't sure which was which yet—stayed by the door, almost like they were standing guard.

  Weird.

  “I went ahead and printed out a couple copies so we wouldn't have to use the fiche,” she told the group, pointing to the stack of paper on the table in the center of the room. “It'll be a lot easier to read.”

  Miranda picked up a copy. “I don't know about that,” she said, flipping through the pages. “I can't read any of this.”

  Chloe nudged Miranda in the shoulder as she smiled at Maia. “What she means, of course, is that we so appreciate you helping us out.”

  Maia returned the girl's smile, but still couldn't shake that weird feeling. “Have we met before?”

  Chloe glanced toward the door before answering. “No, I don't think so.”

  “I swear you look familiar or something.”

  “You've probably just heard a lot about me,” she said, but she chewed on her lip nervously. “You know, from Miranda.” She glanced at Miranda, and there was . . . something in her gaze.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Miranda. “That's probably it.”

  “I think you should just tell her,” the blond guy at the door said with a sigh.

  “Ethan . . .” Chloe scrubbed at her face.

  Well, at least now Maia knew which guy was which.

  “Tell me what?” she asked. “What's going on?”

  The next few seconds would have been comical if they weren't also very confusing. Chloe glared at Ethan. He glared back, and she turned to Beck, who
shrugged. Wren stepped forward and patted Chloe's shoulder gently as she raised her eyebrows at her. It was like a silent conversation was going on between everyone in the room but Maia.

  In the end, they all looked toward Miranda, who let out a groan and slumped into a seat.

  “Why does almost everybody I know have superpowers . . . except me?” she asked, throwing her hands up. “It's getting really annoying.”

  Maia huffed out an astonished laugh. “What? What are you even talking about?”

  Miranda waved a hand toward Chloe, who swallowed uncomfortably.

  “Well,” she said, “I . . . I think after you tell us what you found in the book, maybe I'll be able to explain?”

  Maia noticed nobody would meet her eyes. They were all watching Chloe.

  “Okay,” Maia said slowly. “Like I told Miranda, I have to get some help translating it, but I was able to make out a few things.” She reached for a packet and flipped through it. “Here on page six, for example, there's a reference to this group, The Order—I highlighted it. The name pops up numerous times through the text. From what I can discern, this book is a record of this group. A journal of some kind.”

  The others crowded around the table, looking at the highlighted pages.

  “What else could you read?” Chloe asked, running her fingers along the margin.

  “Well, it's only because I'm in an intro to world religions course, but I recognized a few names. Juracán, a Taíno deity. Set, an ancient Egyptian god. Eris from Greek mythology. But what's interesting is that they all seem to interact with this Order.”

  “Okay, you've lost me,” Ethan said. “So, you're talking about mythological gods?”

  “It's not just that,” Maia replied, warming to her subject. “These are gods from different cultures, different parts of the world, but they all have something in common. They are all gods of chaos.”

  “Chaos.” Chloe glanced at Beck.

  “Chaos, strife, discord, anarchy.” Maia paced back and forth in front of the group. “Whatever you call it, that's what these deities represent. And from what I can tell, they're all somehow linked to this Order.”

  Maia looked around the group, surprised at the mix of panic and fear on their faces.

  She laughed. “Relax, guys. It's all just myths. It'll sure make an interesting project, though. I'd love to get in on it.”

  For some reason, Miranda choked on a laugh, but before Maia could find out why, Wren asked, “What language is this, anyway?”

  “That's the really weird thing,” Maia said, the excitement of discovery evident in her voice. “The text covers centuries and it's written in at least six different languages. It's like it was . . . I don't know, passed on or something from scribe to scribe. I mean, it's not the original copy of some of the older records, but there are notations from ancient Mesopotamia, dating this group—The Order—back to the fourth millennium BCE.

  “It's incredibly interesting. I can't wait to get the rest translated. But if The Order existed that long ago—and still does exist in some form—this could be the Templars or the Masons times a hundred. This could give us insight into mythologies that we haven't seen before. I might write my own pap—”

  “Umm,” Miranda raised a hand to cut her off. “I get that this gets your scientist-y mind all worked up, but I need to back up a second. You think The Order still exists?”

  “Well, it would be difficult to know for sure until the whole text is translated, but secret societies like this, they don't just disappear.” She leaned forward on the table and tapped a finger on the paper. “I mean, according to this journal, it's been around for centuries—millennia—I can't imagine it would die out.”

  The screech of wood on linoleum drew their attention to the head of the table, as Ethan pulled out a chair and motioned to the others to do the same.

  “This could take a while,” he said with a shrug. “We might as well get comfortable.” He shot a pointed look toward Chloe, who let out a heavy sigh as she sat down.

  “Okay,” she said, “I guess there are a few things you should know.”

  That odd feeling of déjà vu? It was still there. Along with disbelief, confusion, and a heavy dose of anger. Oh, and fear. Definitely some fear mixed in there, too.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Maia asked, shoving her chair back as she stood up. She'd sat there quietly, listening to Chloe talk. She kept her mouth closed when she wanted to speak and Miranda touched her arm to silence her. But this? This was just too much.

  “Maia, just listen to what they have to say,” Miranda said quietly.

  “I have been listening,” she snapped. “I listened to all of it. Every ridiculous word.” She pointed at Chloe. “You see the future. There's a magical chest in your attic that gives out powers like a supernatural vending machine.” Then to Wren and Beck. “You freeze time and you're super strong.” Her finger landed on Ethan. “And you—”

  He held up his hands defensively. “I'm just moral support. And a little extra muscle when needed.”

  Maia let out a frustrated sound. “You guys, I don't have time for this . . .” She waved a hand around, “. . . whatever this is. I volunteered to help you out, but I have my own stuff to do. So if you don't mind—”

  “You've got to show her,” Ethan said in a low voice. “It's the only way.”

  “Show me what?”

  Chloe nodded at Beck, who held up his hand. As Maia watched, it started to glow—a bright glove of light shimmering around his fingers. She gasped, then started when Wren appeared behind her right shoulder, smiling gently.

  “But how—” Before she could finish the question, Wren had vanished again and was back in her seat before Maia could even blink. Beck smirked at her, wiggling his glowing fingers, and Chloe watched her carefully, waiting for a response.

  So Maia gave her one.

  She shot to her feet, ripped open the door, and ran.

  After about fifteen minutes of wandering around campus in a daze, Maia realized what she had done. No, not that she had run away from a group of what was either a bunch of potentially crazy people or an elaborate cruel prank. But she had left the special collections room open and unlocked; the key she'd checked out at the reference desk was still deep in her pocket.

  She did not need this on her permanent record. If such a thing existed, and she was pretty certain—given her luck—that it did.

  So she did what any mature adult would do. She hid in the bushes outside the Anthro building until she saw Miranda and her friends leave, then went inside, stuffed the remaining copy of The Order book into her backpack and locked up before heading to her dorm.

  Her heart still pounded, adrenaline making her hands shake, as she fumbled with her room key and spared one quick look over her shoulder before going inside. Her roommate, Tessa, lay sprawled on her bed—books, papers and laptop haphazardly spread about her.

  “One more final,” she grumbled. “One more final and it's on a Friday. What kind of person schedules a Chem final on a Fr—” She looked up and her dark, almond shaped eyes narrowed in concern. She swept her long, black hair into a ponytail and slipped off the bed in one graceful movement.

  “What's wrong? You're white as a ghost.”

  “So what else is new?” Maia said, glancing at her pale, freckled face in the mirror.

  Tessa snorted. “Shut up. You know what I mean. What happened?”

  “It's nothing, I just—” Maia yanked open her closet door and shook her hands to stop the trembling. “I'm fine.” She stepped behind the door to change into a pair of yoga pants and her cuddliest sweatshirt.

  “Yeah, right,” Tessa said, shutting the closet when Maia emerged. “What's got you so upset?”

  Maia sighed. How was she supposed to answer that question? In fact, at that moment, she had no idea why she was so freaked out. Sure, the whole vanishing girl trick was unnerving, but it was just that—a trick—and she'd let herself be taken in by it. She felt kind of ridiculous n
ow. Angry. Confused. Unsure of what Miranda and her friends were really trying to do. But she didn't want to get into all of that with Tessa. All she wanted to do was forget about it.

  She collapsed onto her bed and rolled onto her stomach, tucking her pillow beneath her. “I just thought maybe someone was following me,” she said, forcing a weak smile when Tessa stiffened. “He wasn't. He turned and went the other way before I got close to the dorm, but I got myself all worked up.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I overreacted. It's nothing, really.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Absolutely.” Maia grabbed the stack of mail she hadn't had time to deal with yet, frowning when she saw an envelope from the University's Housing and Residence Living department. She tore it open, her heart sinking when she read the contents.

  “What is it?” Tessa asked.

  Maia tossed the letter toward her. “Apparently, after Christmas break, I'm homeless.”

  “What?” Tessa scanned the letter. “I don't get it. I thought you had that single reserved for when I leave.” Tessa's mom was sick, so she'd be transferring to a school back in Wisconsin to be closer to her family. Instead of dealing with another new roommate, Maia had put in a request for a single room.

  “I did.” She groaned. “But now it looks like that's not going to happen.”

  Tessa continued reading the letter. “And this room has already been assigned.”

  “Yep.”

  “And there's no other room available in this dorm.” She flipped over the page. “In any dorm.”

  “Nope.”

  “So all you can do is get on a waiting list?”

  “Or find an apartment.” Maia threw an arm over her arms, not wanting to deal with any of it. “I guess it's time to start scanning Craigslist.”

  “Crap, I'm sorry Maia. I didn't mean to leave you in a bind.”

  “It's not your fault,” she replied. “Don't worry about it. I'll figure it out.”

  After a while, Tessa returned to her homework, flipping a few pages idly, before she shut the book.