Age of Heroes: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 1)

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Tell the truth,” Hugo interrupted bitterly, nose to nose with her. “Because I’m a piece of trash Queen Brie uses to make herself feel better.”

  “That is not true!” Brie cried, tears spilling freely.

  Hugo shook his head, not believing a word. “Fucking. Liar.” He drew the words out. “I once thought you were too good for me. I was so desperate for your attention, I let you walk all over me.” Hugo’s voice quivered, tears welling up. He couldn’t hide from his pain or the betrayal knifing his heart. “If only I could have shown you how much I loved you, how I’d be the standup guy who’d always treat you well. Maybe you wouldn’t be so ashamed.”

  Hugo wiped away his tears. Brie was sobbing. Seeing this hardened his heart. “But the whole time I was lower than dog shit to you. The whole time, you kept insulting me to your friends and boyfriend.”

  “Bogie…” Brie tried interjecting.

  “The whole time, you were POISON!” Hugo roared so furiously, the whole lobby seemed to shake. Brie gaped, too petrified to move.

  Hugo felt drained, sick of this discussion. Sick of Brie. Muffled voices behind classroom doors grew closer, curious about the argument. “When I’m wrong about someone, I am dead wrong,” he said with odd calm, despite his roiling heartache.

  “Bogie,” Brie whispered tearfully. “I’m sorry.” She reached for him.

  Hugo flinched away. His rejection seared across Brie’s features.

  “Simon was right about you,” he declared. “I’m done. We’re done.”

  He turned and walked out Paso Robles High's main entrance.

  Tuning out Brie’s gut-wrenching sobs, Hugo quickened his pace and never looked back.

  Chapter 37

  The last time Quinn sat in Helena’s office watching superhero videos, she'd drawn laughs and congrats.

  A day after the Paragon’s brawl, she shifted uncomfortably like a student in the principal’s office. Someone had recorded and posted last night’s chaos on YouTube. Because, of course. The reporter wanted to dissolve into a puddle and evaporate. Standing behind Helena’s desk was the Editor-in-Chief herself and portly Dave Packer. His seething face made him look like an angry Kool-Aid Man.

  But his presence signaled how much trouble Quinn was in.

  The video reached the part where Seraph stood atop the bar with her angel wings flooding the barroom with radiance. Everyone stopped fighting.

  Quinn gaped, not just at Seraph’s aura. Paragon’s looked more devastated than she remembered. Seraph stepped down from the bar, offering a hand to a black woman Quinn pretended not to know.

  Helena paused the video. Quinn braced for the onslaught.

  “First Jono,” Helena ranted in a mixture of rage and disappointment. “Now you? What the ever-loving fuck, Quinn?” She stabbed an accusing finger at Quinn. “You know how bad this looks?” Helena shouted. “Two Vanguard members involved in a barroom brawl?”

  Packer chimed—or grunted—in. “Now they’re blocking the interview series release. They don’t trust us anymore.” He waddled around Helena’s desk. His piggy eyes raked over Quinn, who looked like an ant to be squashed. She shuddered, knowing the fate of Packer’s enemies. “All that ad sponsor money and our Vanguard partnership, gone! Thanks to you!”

  Fear rushed through Quinn. None of this should've happened. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, meeting Helena and Packer’s glares.

  The Head of Ad Sales laughed bitterly. “Like that’ll fix anything. You know what needs to happen.”

  Quinn swallowed a gasp as her heart raced into a gallop. Her career at SLOCO Daily was about to end.

  “Packer,” Helena snapped. “Quinn doesn’t report to you.”

  Packer seethed but simmered down.

  Helena ran shaky fingers through her spiky hair before sitting on her desk. Quinn felt worse seeing how weary the Editor-in-Chief appeared. After Helena had barely kept Jono McGowan from termination, Quinn doubted she’d receive the same leniency.

  Helena spread her arms out, lost. “Why?” she asked with such quiet betrayal. Quinn felt her heart break a bit more. She wanted to talk. But not with Packer here. A man like that shouldn’t be anywhere near this. Quinn’s gaze danced to Packer and back to Helena, who immediately understood. She looked to Packer and nodded at the door. “Give us a few minutes.”

  Packer turned brick red. “I’m not going anywhere until you discipline her misconduct!”

  Helena squeezed her eyes shut. “LEAVE, Dave!” she barked.

  Packer shot a venomous glare at Quinn before stomping out of the office. The reporter avoided his gaze. Her legs had gone numb from the possibility of losing this job she loved.

  Once the door shut behind him, Helena glared daggers into her protégé. “This better be good.”

  Quinn leaned forward, gathering her courage, and told Helena everything. Meeting Lord Borealis’s wife, visiting Borealis in prison, the missing drone footage leading to the Paragon's incident. She left out Creed Samuels accompanying her to meet Lord Borealis. No need for another work friend to go down with her.

  When Quinn finished, Helena was slack-jawed and pissed. “Why am I just hearing this?” she demanded.

  “I wanted confirmation,” Quinn retorted. Her hands were shaking. “Before telling you.”

  Quinn stood up to plead her case. “I thought it was some deluded wife trying to save her husband. But after the missing drone footage, the bartender’s confession and the Paragon’s brawl—” She clutched her head to untangled the opposing thoughts. “I think Lord Borealis was framed for Titan’s murder.”

  Helena stared a long while out her window, the sun sinking into the rippling sea blocks away. She had to be doing some processing to find the best path forward. For the first time today, Quinn had hope to rally on.

  Helena finally turned, her expression blank. “Stay away from this,” she ordered flatly.

  Quinn’s brain spun. “What?” She couldn’t believe Helena had uttered those words.

  “You're radioactive right now,” the Editor-in-Chief said. “And you’ll get no help from the Vanguard.”

  Despite the Paragon’s fight, she found that hard to believe. “Did you speak to Seraph?”

  “Her and Sentinel,” Helena countered in that same flat voice, arms folded. Some emotion reached her eyes. Disgust? Disappointment? Maybe both. “Seraph says you pressured her into visiting Paragon’s for a story about Lord Borealis’s relationship with Titan.”

  Quinn stumbled back. The betrayal mule-kicked her in the jaw. “She’s lying!”

  “Good GOD.” Helena slapped one palm against her forehead. “Exactly why you can't touch this story. Even if she’s lying, who will believe you over the Priestess of Purity?”

  Quinn opened her mouth and found her quiver empty, realizing the trap Seraph had set. After I kept her secrets, she backstabs me. The reporter deflated. A stinging sensation threatened to blur her eyes. By sheer force of will, Quinn refused to cry over this. What did you expect? Thinking you’d befriended a superhero?

  Helena stepping into Quinn’s personal space drew her out of this self-pitying stupor. “You will go back to Lifestyles and stay there writing fucking restaurant reviews until your fingers bleed.” Visceral disgust was etched into Helena’s demeanor as she studied Quinn, who felt a sudden urge to wash off whatever filth had stained her. “If not for our Lady Liberty interview doing so well last night, I’d fire you on the spot,” she added coldly.

  Hearing that pissed Quinn off. “Like you fired Jono?” she threw back snidely. A low blow, but a needed one.

  Helena stared at her. And stared…and stared.

  Now Quinn knew she was getting fired. She stood and waited.

  Hatred contorted Helena’s features, unsettling Quinn to her core.

  “Get. Out. Of my sight and get your lifestyle assignments for this week,” she warned in lethal tones. “Before I change my mind.” Helena rounded her desk, sat down and begin typing as if Quinn didn't exist.


  The reporter stood in shock, not believing she’d kept her job. Except now, Helena Madden despised her. That should’ve saddened Quinn. The Editor-in-Chief was turning a blind eye to injustice, like a corporate sellout.

  Quinn ambled out of the Editor-in-Chief’s office. Her mind swirled with too many emotions to process.

  As she walked from Helena’s office, Quinn sensed co-workers turning, judging and even giggling with each cubicle she passed.

  Everybody’s seen the video, she realized, mortified. By the views, over twenty-million people had seen the video. Quinn’s cheeks burned with shame.

  She held her head high, fighting back tears, and didn’t stop until reaching her desk. Quinn hid in her cubicle and worked the rest of the day.

  Afterward, Quinn barely remembered the trip home on the SMAT subway. It felt like a wrecking ball had caved in her guts.

  Quinn kept relitigating her choice to investigate this Lord Borealis mystery, the damage to her career and everyone refusing to investigate the wrong man getting charged.

  Why does it matter? she wondered. Lord Borealis was the opposite of innocent. Maybe getting framed for Titan’s murder was the karmic bitchslap a monster like Borealis deserved.

  Her buzzing cell jarred Quinn from those dark thoughts and indicated she was about to miss her stop.

  The reporter sprang from her seat and lunged through the train doors right before they closed.

  After regaining her composure, Quinn pulled out her cell. The call ID brought her soul much-needed joy. “Jordana!” she exclaimed, following the crowds to the subway exit.

  “Prima!” her teenage cousin replied happily with a thick Bronx accent. “How ya doin’?”

  “Above average,” Quinn lied. No need for this sweet girl to get burdened by her drama. “What’s up?”

  “Our catch-up tonight, remember? So, I can shower you with praise for the Lady Liberty interview.”

  “Right!” Quinn facepalmed, emerging from the subway onto the Paso Robles streets. They were supposed to discuss her time with the Vanguard. But the wound was too raw to address. “Hate to do this,” she said, wincing. “Can we raincheck until tomorrow? Work today was rough.”

  “Oh, Okay.” Jody sounded disappointed but sympathetic. “Hope you feel better.”

  Quinn felt terrible. But she needed to veg on music and wine. And maybe those Riverdale episodes on her DVR. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Love ya, Quinn.”

  That warmed Quinn’s wounded heart. “Love you too, Jody. Give the fam my best.” She hung up a little happier than before.

  Sometime later, Quinn’s gratitude soared as she opened her door and slipped into her unlit apartment.

  Locking the door, she moved to turn the lights on and paused. Chilly air whooshed through her apartment. Her eyes landed on the source. The window behind her dining table was open, gauzy white drapes whipped about by the winds.

  “I closed that this morning,” Quinn murmured. At least, she thought she had. Today had been a blur of horribleness. Quinn marched for the window—and a hard, metallic prod dug into her lower back.

  The intruder never made a noise crossing the floors, appearing out of the shadows.

  Really? Now being held at gunpoint, Quinn felt like today couldn’t get any worse. For some reason, she remained calm on the outside, despite freaking out internally. Quinn raised both hands, staring directly at that open window. Probably the last thing she’d ever see.

  “Take whatever you want.” She barely recognized her low, rough voice. “I won’t resist.”

  Silence followed. In that moment Quinn closed her eyes, expecting the end.

  “You’re investigating Titan’s murder?” a deep, gravelly voice growled behind her.

  Quinn’s eyes popped open in surprise. “How would you know—?”

  “Yes? Or no?” the gravelly voice barked.

  “Yes…yes I am.” Quinn squeaked. This man must work for whoever had framed Lord Borealis. That made this “robbery” more terrifying.

  “Do you think Lord Borealis killed Titan?” the man’s growl filled the unlit apartment. “Yes or no?”

  Quinn almost said yes to stay alive. But after today, she stood in her fear and chose courage. “I don’t think he killed Titan.”

  Another pause. The gun withdrew from her back. “That makes two of us.”

  Quinn’s brain nearly quit her skull. “What?” She began turning. A strong hand grabbed the back of her neck, holding the reporter in place. She stiffened and froze

  “Lord Borealis is a terrorist and a murderer.” Noticeable disgust colored the intruder’s words. “Guilty of a hundred other crimes. Not this.”

  Quinn found herself nodding despite her lingering terror. “Agreed.” Then why was this intruder here?

  “At Paragon’s, you asked the right questions to the wrong crowd,” the intruder rumbled. “Rattling those cages nearly got you and Seraph killed. Which was the intention.”

  Quinn blinked. So that brawl had been instigated. To cover someone’s tracks. Had to be that telepath. “I’m…not surprised,” Quinn stammered.

  “Keep pursuing this, the death threats will increase,” the intruder stated. “Can you handle that?” The warning chilled Quinn to the bone.

  She mulled over a response, considering her damaged career and that barroom brawl. Despite this, Quinn's mind was set. “Titan gave so much of himself to this world. He deserves justice, no matter what.”

  “The Vanguard can no longer help you. But I can.”

  Quinn made a face, still terrified out of her boots. But if this guy wanted to rob or kill me, he’d have done it already. Something in her gut told Quinn this was an ally. Didn’t mean she trusted him. “What can you do that the Vanguard can’t?”

  “Stop at nothing to get justice,” the intruder declared forcefully. “And find Titan’s real killer.”

  That answer left Quinn more confused…and frightened. “Why do you care?” she snapped.

  “Titan was...my friend.” The intruder’s voice went whisper-soft.

  Quinn frowned. Titan had many friends. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Continue your daily routine. Stay out of trouble.” The intruder withdrew his hand from the back of her neck. “When I get in touch, we'll get to work.” Then, silence.

  Quinn whirled around. “Who are—?”

  She found only darkness and the dim outline of light framing her front door. Quinn’s heart thudded so hard, about to burst from her chest. No, she didn’t imagine that conversation.

  Quinn remembered the window. She turned in time to see part of a coat fluttering out of sight at the edge of her open window. Quinn dashed across her apartment. “Hey!”

  Sticking her head out the window, she watched that coat vanish onto the rooftop three stories up. Then he was gone.

  As the cool night air kissed her sweaty skin, Quinn stared at the roof several moments, breathing hard. Who was that freakshow claiming to be Titan’s friend? Quinn had accounted for all Titan’s friends during her stay with the Vanguard. All believed Lord Borealis was the killer.

  Except one, Quinn realized. A street-level vigilante whose existence had been rumored for years. A ‘midnight son’ whose reputation had made him a boogeyman of sorts to San Miguel’s criminal element.

  Quinn shook her head and dismissed the idea, withdrawing into her apartment. “He’s an urban myth.”

  Was he? Like with Lord Borealis, the evidence was undeniable. The two strikes against San Miguel's serial killers, rapists and child molesters had risen these last few years. Then came the random, terrifying appearance in her apartment, like some ninja. He somehow knew about the Paragon’s incident. And the unshakeable belief in justice, no matter what.

  “Holy crap…” Quinn’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Geist is real?” As if today couldn’t get any crazier.

  Chapter 38

  Hugo should’ve gone home first. But his counsellor meeting and that Brie skirmish ma
de him hangry. An Apple Farms visit for their pancake special became essential.

  He felt better coming home until he saw Mom’s Forerunner in the driveway.

  She was sitting on the living room couch in her nursing scrubs when Hugo entered. Hugo heard AJ’s heartbeat upstairs. Why isn’t he at school…

  “Mom?” He approached warily. “Aren’t you working today?”

  “I was.” Mom looked up at Hugo with a blank stare, “Something happened at AJ’s school.”

  Hugo’s heart skipped. Why does today hate me? “What?”

  “A 4th grader manifested,” Mom explained, visibly haunted. “Energy powers. She destroyed part of the school’s second floor.”

  Hugo gaped. Stories of supers violently manifesting their powers were becoming more common. As were stories about OSA’s severe response. Could’ve been me if my powers went haywire. Hugo focused on his brother. “Is AJ okay?”

  Mom nodded. “He’s fine. The girl was alone in the girls’ bathroom thankfully.”

  Hugo sighed in relief. “Thank God.” He dropped his backpack beside the couch before sitting down.

  “On our way home,” Mom continued, “Mrs. DeWitt called.”

  SHIT. Hugo squeezed his eyes shut. He had planned on telling Mom later. “I can explain—”

  His mother popped up as if shot out of a toaster. “You got into a fight last Friday, Bogota?” She looked so livid, Hugo recoiled. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

  Hugo rose, holding out a hand to pacify his mother. “I know it sounds bad—”

  She steamrolled over him. “You could’ve killed someone!"

  “It was Baz! Again,” Hugo shouted. “He and his friends ambushed Simon.”

  Mom’s anger cooled. She waited for more explanation.

  “What should I have done?” Hugo seethed. “Let them pummel Simon? Go to a useless teacher?”

  Mom closed her eyes and shook her head with appalled familiarity. “What a repulsive jackass that Sebastian has become.” Her expression sobered when she looked to Hugo. "Tell me you didn’t seriously hurt them.”