by Ekeke, C. C.
Disgusting, Hugo seethed, and on the anniversary of Titan’s murder? In a blur of violence, he plowed through the robbers not-so-gently.
When he zoomed to a safe distance, the thugs got launched into unyielding walls. They stayed down. “That’ll learn ya.”
By the time the cop cars arrived, Hugo was long gone.
He returned to a pitch-black house. Mom was working another night shift. AJ, asleep in his room, now actively avoided him. Hugo had to fix this relationship eventually. Not tonight.
Entering his room, he found a pleasingly shaped silhouette curled up in his bed. He silently crept closer. Spencer lay fast asleep, hair fanned out on a pillow. Faint bruising on her bare shoulder squeezed at Hugo’s heart. Despite how controlled Hugo was during sex, passion occasionally made him careless.
Yet Spencer never criticized or shamed him.
An hour ago, Hugo had reluctantly left her in bed for his midnight patrol. Knowing how rough today’s anniversary would be, he'd invited Spencer over—at the cost of hanging with Simon and other friends.
Spencer had arrived earlier wearing more clothing. A sleeveless black top with a white schoolgirl collar and Burberry skirt, her hair up in a teased-up ponytail. She had greeted Hugo with a wolfish kiss, one hand clutching the nape of his neck in that possessive way he liked.
“Brought your favorites,” Spencer had cooed after they’d disentangled. She’d brought a delicious-smelling takeout bag from Carmelo’s, where her dad had a standing RSVP. “Shall we?” When Spencer had gazed up at him from under her eyelashes with smoldering, sex-glazed eyes, Hugo’s loneliness vanished.
They’d eaten dinner on the living room couch, keeping the TV off to avoid cheesy Titan memorial broadcasts. Hugo had pried and poked about her Paxton-Brandt internship.
“Can’t. Confidential,” Spencer had said. She had shared a lot of superhero gossip.
“Toothpaste and toothbrushes have more chemistry than Seraph and Sentinel,” she had opined. Her eyes rolled back a little as she’d savored her food, using perfect dining etiquette. “Mmm, delicious. Doesn’t help that Sentinel’s a flag-waving charisma vacuum and Seraph’s emotionally stuck in middle school.” Spencer had placed her utensils down after finishing. “I give that marriage two years. Three-point-five tops with counseling.”
Hugo had leaned back and laughed, enjoying Spencer’s scathing critiques. The secret lives of superheroes fascinated him, even as one himself. “At least we’ll enjoy the wedding.”
Spencer had squinted at him. “We?”
Hugo had nodded. A beehive had buzzed inside his stomach. Whatever these feelings were, Hugo knew what he wanted. And Lady Liberty would return by then. “Let’s go to Seraph and Sentinel’s wedding.”
Spencer had clapped excitedly. “Don’t worry about flight or lodging. Daddy’s covering it!”
Her pure joy had tugged at Hugo’s soul. “What do you wanna do now?”
Spencer had crawled on top of him. “You…” Her lips had searched his neck, soon finding his mouth. Hugo had taken his time exploring Spencer's body before carrying her upstairs.
He now watched her sleep, his hood and mask pulled back. Should I tell her? Being December’s daughter, Spencer would understand the superhero life. The prospect warmed Hugo’s heart.
He reached out to wake her—and reveal himself.
Hugo hesitated. Jordana and Simon's description for Spencer floated up. Evil.
He withdrew his hand, willingness gone. Spencer’s breathing shifted then, to Hugo’s chagrin. By the time she stirred and lifted her head, Hugo had stashed his costume in a secured closet compartment. He emerged from his closet in pajama pants eight seconds later.
“You’re back.” Spencer grinned sleepily from across the bedroom. “I woke up and you were gone.”
Hugo grimaced, hoping she’d slept through his absence. “Took a walk to clear my head.” Not a total lie.
She sat up, hair falling around her face. “C’mere, baby.” She beckoned with her finger.
Hugo approached eagerly. From then on, he focused completely on Spencer, devouring and enjoying her for hours. Once Hugo was finished, she lay draped on top of him—exhausted and quivering.
Can we be more? Next morning, after Spencer kissed him goodbye, Hugo found a hand-written letter under his pillow.
H,
Last night was a godsend. You have no idea how healing your presence is, or the power you hold. I’m OBSESSED with you!
Yours softly,
Marshmallow
Spencer’s words buoyed Hugo during another morning patrol through San Miguel. He would’ve patrolled the rest of the day. But a month ago he’d promised Jordana to attend a L.U.N.A concert. Becoming too unavailable might raise his friends’ suspicion.
By mid-afternoon, Hugo supersped to Jordana’s neighborhood in south Paso. He slowed and walked the remaining two blocks of stucco-roofed houses and winding streets, making a call.
“Any word on that Titan clone or fake or whatever?” Hugo said on the phone with Quinn.
“Clint’s still decrypting Therese’s videos,” she replied. “If Paxton-Brandt parades this Titan publicly, they’d be called saints. And our story gets buried.”
Did Hugo have the power to defeat a Titan clone? He shivered, unsure of the answer. “I did more sweeps last night of Paxton-Brandt’s clinics. All nine were vacated.” Who knew where their victims were now? Failing to save that poor teen haunted Hugo still. Jordana’s house was just beyond the intersection.
“They know SLOCO Daily’s onto them,” Quinn added.
Hugo stared from his phone to Jordana’s house, which had an echo of Quinn's voice. Or were his powers glitching? “When's that story getting published?”
“Almost ready,” Quinn replied. The echo from Jordana’s house grew louder.
Hugo approached the charming house. The heartbeats inside were Jordana’s, her twin brothers’--and Quinn Bauer’s? This made no sense. Maybe it was fatigue. Spencer had kept him up late. The memory left him grinning. “Let me know where I can help.”
“Speaking of…” Quinn sounded like she was in the foyer of Jordana’s house. “Where’s Lady Liberty? I’m surprised she hasn’t trounced this Rainmaker idiot.”
Hugo winced. Another sore spot. Rainmaker had terrorized Las Vegas three days ago. Tomorrow Man and Vegas’s regional superheroes, Aces & Eights, had failed to stop him. Hugo itched to stomp Rainmaker’s face in if not for Lady Liberty’s mandate to protect only San Miguel. “International mission. I’m stuck guarding SLO County.” He walked up to Jordana’s oak door. “I’m at my friend’s house. Talk later.” Hugo hung up and knocked.
Footsteps pitter-pattered closer before the door unlocked and opened…
…bringing Hugo face to face with Quinn. The dark-skinned reporter stood a little taller than five feet, with voluminous kinky curls. She peered up at him, slack-jawed.
Hugo stumbled backward. “Why are you here?” he and Quinn asked simultaneously.
Hearing footsteps race down the stairs, Hugo hastily raised a finger to silence her.
Seconds later, Jordana appeared. “You’re here!” God, she was a vision, petite and curvy in her white-and-red polka-dot minidress. She’d taken out her braids, her wavy black hair in a topknot with a headscarf. Insanely pretty. Jordana weaved around Quinn, leaping into Hugo’s arms.
“Hey, sexy.” He caught Jodie in one arm and kissed her, watching Quinn’s bewilderment shift into rage. Uh-oh… “Who’s this?” he asked innocently once Jordana slid down to her feet.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Quinn replied acidly.
Jordana dragged Hugo inside, oblivious to the growing tension. “Q, meet Bogota.” She gestured at him proudly. “My schoolboy!”
Quinn stared Hugo up and down. “This is Bogota?”
Jordana beamed and turned to Hugo. “Bogie? My cousin, Quinn Bauer, famous journalist. She’s watching my brothers while we enjoy some L.U.N.A.”
Quinn and
Jordana are cousins. The news landed on Hugo’s chest like a five-ton brick. This had never come up. Jodie was quite active on social media but never posted anything about Quinn.
Hugo swallowed as much shock as he could before reaching out to shake Quinn’s hand. “Call me Hugo.” He smiled amiably. Thank God for Ms. Ortiz’s pantomime lessons. “I’ve watched your Vanguard interviews and the Missy Magnificent story. Big fan.”
“Noted.” Quinn returned his handshake with a tight-lipped smile that never reached her eyes. “Jodie’s been so secretive, I know almost nothing about you.” The double meaning in her words held clear bile.
Hugo gulped hard, retracting his hand as if touching a hot stove. “Bogota’s my legal name,” he explained. “Hugo’s what everyone calls me.”
“It’s a cute story involving his brother.” Jodie gave Quinn a quick hug. “I’ll tell you later. We’re running late!” She took Hugo’s hand to draw him outside before yelling goodbye in Spanish to Rory and Roland.
He felt Quinn’s eyes on his back as he and Jodie headed out.
Hugo’s mind spun during the ten-minute walk to the SMAT subway. “All this time,” he muttered, arm around Jordana’s shoulders, “you never mentioned being related to Quinn Bauer.”
Jordana gave him a sidelong look and grinned. “I’m proud of Quinn. But namedropping’s not my style.” She shook her head. “I’m not Natalie Rodriguez.”
“Thank God,” Hugo snarked, drawing laughter from Jodie.
His work cellphone buzzed. Hugo had tasked Simon with messaging him if anything bad went down. He momentarily feared some catastrophe would force him to bail tonight. Hugo pulled the phone from his pocket, nervously reading a new text.
Quinn: You and I are having words later.
Shivering, Hugo stuffed the phone in his pocket. He was so not looking forward to that conversation.
“Another of your jump-offs?” Jodie quipped, glancing at him.
Hugo offered a half-hearted chuckle. “Just a friend I’m disagreeing with.” No lie there.
The couple soon reached the subway, weaving through swarms of coming and going passengers. Hugo appreciated the upkeep of San Miguel’s sleek subways, despite only using the subway when out with friends. Jodie made a fun companion on the packed train. They stood leaning on each other, conversations flowing and overlapping, causing more laughter.
The connection between them crackled, leading to many unexpected kisses while riding to downtown. Again, Hugo was torn. Jodie made things light and fun. The Quinn factor clouded that enthusiasm.
Hugo shook off the thought, focusing on his date. Pressing Jodie against the railcar wall, he snuck in a longer kiss, holding one of her hands over her head. He pulled back, finding Jodie dreamy-eyed and blushing. Hugo’s senses were flooded with other concertgoers in the subway car, a chorus of heartbeats, and body fragrances. Collective excitement blanketed the air. Overlapping discussions included theories about which celebrity guests L.U.N.A would bring out. More extreme fans argued over who was the biggest LUNA-tic, bragging about how many concerts attended and more crazy purity tests.
Hugo frowned. This combative dialogue drifted throughout this and the two connected to theirs.
“The mood’s kinda aggro on this train,” he told Jordana in concern. “Did something happen to L.U.N.A?”
She looked surprised. “You haven’t heard?”
“I block out Extreme Teens-related news,” Hugo remarked dryly. “And I’m busy with my temp job.”
Jodie nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s why you bailed on lunch last week?”
Hugo grimaced. “Jodie—”
“Kidding!” Jodie teased him, smiling. “Sorta. Anyway, Blur and L.U.N.A broke up yesterday! And this isn’t an Extreme Dreams storyline. They’re done.”
Hugo hadn’t seen that coming. “Really?”
“The MissyFits had a collective orgasm,” Jordana said, referring to Missy Magnificent’s fans. A smile pulled at her full lips as the subway slowed at their stop. “Blur’s single. Missy Magnificent is a widow. Maybe they’ll reconnect.”
“Really? REALLY?” Hugo rolled his eyes, though Jordana’s fangirling was adorable. “I heard Missy’s holed up somewhere in Bhutan.” A lie. He knew Missy had moved to Newfoundland after the Junction incident months ago.
“You’re so stupid!” Jordana playfully smacked him as they exited. “L.U.N.A and Blur were sexy as hell together. But they’re not Blur and Missy.”
Hugo scoffed. “Ugh, you’re Team Blissy?”
Jordana laughed. “Can’t help it.” They weaved with bustling crowds to the next subway line to reach Jamba Juice Stadium. “Blur and Missy were my childhood. I’m ride-or-die Team Blissy.”
“You’re the superhero version of a Twihard.” Hugo dropped her hand, turning to leave. “And I’m out!”
Jodie lunged for his hand. “Get over here, Bogota!”
He allowed her to drag him forward.
Then Hugo felt Jodie stiffen. She stared ahead, happiness gone. He followed her gaze, and his heart sank into his stomach.
The girl in the crowd stood out among the humanity herding through the tunnel. She looked skinnier than Hugo remembered—frighteningly skinny—wearing a drab black tee and jeans. Her auburn hair fell in disheveled sheets down thin shoulders. The girl’s normally striking face was the most upsetting, pale and empty like some store mannequin.
Unfortunately, she’d spotted Hugo and Jordana. Her features contorted in fleeting agony. Driving the blade deeper in Hugo was watching the light go out of her green eyes. A walking corpse. Her face went blank like a stone wall before she looked down and hurried past them.
That wasn’t Briseis El-Saden, he tried convincing himself after she vanished into the crowd. But her scent, her heartbeat, and that face confirmed it.
He whirled on Jordana. “What the fuck?”
She sighed, her demeanor so downcast. “Yeah…”
After her downfall, Brie had made herself practically invisible around school. Hugo knew about the harassment from other students, including a slushy getting dumped on her head. He'd tuned it all out, keeping his distance.
Seeing Brie up close shattered his indifference to pieces.
“I knew your friends dumped her,” Hugo said once they reached their subway, “but…what happened?”
Jordana stared ruefully at the ground. “Brie’s had a terrible few months,” she confessed. “The slut-shamming, losing so many friends, her parents divorcing, her brother cutting off the family, other…stuff.” Jordana trembled. “And of course, us being together.”
With his concern focused on superheroics and girls, Hugo had willfully ignored Brie while she’d been drowning. That was hard to swallow. He and Jordana found seats on the subway car. “I didn’t know.”
Jordana avoided his gaze. “Like you said, she made her choices.”
Hugo cringed hearing his own words thrown back at him. Neither spoke for the rest of the subway ride, the cloud hanging over the couple darkening.
Chapter 24
“We’re home,” Quinn announced, opening her door. She was lugging a satchel and a roller suitcase, neither belonging to her. The owner, Therese, followed Quinn inside. The archer, wearing dark baggy sweats with her hair tied in a low ponytail, resembled a normal twenty-something.
Quinn placed Therese’s things in her common room and moved back to lock the door. She stole quick looks at her. Therese had more color in her skin. But she was limping and panting, wiped out by the walk from the garage.
Therese plopped onto the couch with an exhausted huff.
Quinn fought to keep a neutral mask seeing Therese so fragile. She was about to give her a tour, but caught herself. Therese had visited more times than she'd even known. “Do I even need to show you around?”
Therese shook her head. “No.”
Quinn just shrugged, basically numbed to these vigilantes and their ninja habits. “You’re in the guestroom.” She pointed to the door on the other s
ide of the living room. “I did a grocery run and cooked. There’s only one rule. Break it, and you’re out.”
Therese’s brow raised with mild surprise. “Okay...”
Quinn had been mulling over Therese’s reaction on the drive home. But the archer dying frightened her more. “Returning to action before you’ve sufficiently healed.” Quinn’s heart stuttered while she issued her ultimatum. “Unacceptable. We clear?”
Therese’s expression was unreadable. “Crystal.”
“Good.” Quinn felt immediate lightness. “Questions?”
Therese lifted two fingers. “Two things.”
“Shoot.”
Therese’s mask slipped, revealing weary gratitude. “Thanks.”
The praise left Quinn giddy, like a drug. “Of course. And two?”
The vigilante’s face shifted. “Why weren't you answering my calls and text in Rhode Island?”
Quinn stood petrified. Answering meant being vulnerable, exposing her truth. She didn’t have the courage to open that door. Yet Therese waited patiently for a response. Quinn was trapped.
A loud buzzing from her purse shattered the blanket of tension.
She lunged for the purse and fished inside for the lifeline. Her iPad. Quinn saw the name FaceTiming her and nearly cried in relief. Therese’s gaze remained locked on her like a hawk.
“I gotta…” Her words got tangled, like her thoughts. “This is important.” She fled to her bedroom without waiting for a reply and shut the door.
Thankful for the solitude, Quinn hopped onto her bed cross-legged and answered the FaceTime request. “Johnny! How’s the honeymoon?”
“Good morning, Q.” Johnny Sherwood’s handsome face smiled back from the iPad screen. He looked sun-kissed and content. While it was after eight p.m. on San Miguel, wherever Johnny was had to be early in the morning. “Things are great. Gelato’s even better. I got your note about The Elite.”
“Yes.” Quinn had meant to ask Johnny about The Elite months ago when thinking they were suspects in Titan’s murder. But with Paxton-Brandt sponsoring them, Quinn wanted everything she could get. “Sorry to interrupt the honeymoon.”