Allied: A Superhero Reverse Harem Romance (The PTB Alliance Book 3)

by Katelyn Beckett

  Logan Patterson began to pace the room, his hands held behind his back, eyes angled at the floor. "Be that as it may, you disregarded a direct order. Starseer said he told you to stay in the penthouse. Do you know what might have happened if the Dream had infected you again? Thousands could be dead; maybe millions if someone like Isabella Reed had gotten too far off the chain."

  I tried not to look guilty, but he wasn't wrong. Still, we'd only been trying to help and being angry at us for doing our job, after not collaborating with Thomaston for years, seemed wrong. I opened my mouth to speak but he stopped and something told me to shut up.

  "You're going home tomorrow. If any of my people want to help you, they're on their own. You'll get no further assistance from Thomaston and, should I see you in my city after lunch, I will have you arrested for attempted terrorism."

  He slammed the door and left.

  Chapter 14

  It took a lot of willpower not to grab my pants and stalk out after that prick. But the others needed me more right that second.

  "I'd be surprised if some of the others don't come," Nishelle whispered to me.

  I shook my head. "They'll do whatever Logan tells them. Or whatever Starseer does. I don't think we can take Scribe alone and it's likely they'll all just come and clean up after we're dead or in the Dream again."

  Nishelle didn't answer me and I didn't blame her. If we didn't have help, we were screwed. I ran the thoughts through my mind over and over again, looking for some sideways way I hadn't come up with to manipulate Logan into helping us, but nothing came.

  We finished off the pitcher of pre-mixed Screwdrivers. After Logan left, the majority of the group grumbled for a little while but then they'd passed out in a pile. I sighed. "I think my best bet is to go after Starseer. He'll be sentimental, upset, but he won't want his people to have died for nothing. And it does back up the guess we have about Scribe being somehow attached to the Kipas, I guess. Thomaston hasn't been hit in ages. Why would they be hit now?"

  "Other than us being here?" Nishelle asked. I nodded and she set the empty pitcher down. "I can't come up with anything. But that means we actually did kill Logan's people. As in; his beef with us is genuine and I don't know how we can possibly fix that."

  "Probably nothing we can do except apologize and try to take care of Yarborough after we down Scribe; however that happens. I don't know. I don't really expect any of us to know. It's a disaster."

  She didn't answer me. I tilted my head at her and gave her a little nudge with my elbow. No response except for a soft, tired noise and her turning her head away from me. Alright then, the others could sleep.

  I couldn't.

  I'd sent those drones in knowing full well that I might kill someone. I may have even killed one of my own lovers or someone important to them. You had to make decisions like that sometimes and I'd had the means, the intelligence, and the gut to do it.

  Was that what Logan was doing to us? For us? He didn't think we could win, if there was a way to win something like this, so he was giving up and throwing us to the wolves?

  That didn't feel right, either. My mind drifted, never quite falling asleep, until the first few rays of sunlight spread blindingly across my face. I sighed and put my arm over my eyes, just wanting to take a little nap before I got up and went off to do something incredibly stupid.

  I didn't get the chance to do that. My watch alarm went off and I had to shut it up before it woke the rest of the group up. Silent, I crawled out of bed and pulled on my clothes. A shower would have to wait until we were back at Nishelle's; or wherever the hell we were staying. Those shacks in Renfield were available, but they were too close to Yarborough for my taste or my comfort.

  Falling in love was rough on your nerves.

  There was nowhere fancy to make breakfast in the infirmary, so I headed back to the cafeteria. It was awfully early, but plenty of superheroes got up at the crack of dawn. It was a life made for those who didn't want to meet their grandchildren, in my opinion, but none of mine were like that. I'd bring back breakfast and we'd all talk, figure out what our next move would be, and work to get there.

  Maybe, when all of this was over, I could petition the next head guy at Yarborough to give us wages like the ones in Thomaston. The superheroes here didn't want for anything and even their cafeteria was nicer than ours. Yarborough's people deserved better and I probably had some sort of seniority and clean record that could give me that kind of bargaining chip.

  As I'd expected, the cafeteria was abandoned. All except for one table, at which one man was seated. Just one guy, eating an everything bagel, and watching me with eyes that screamed distrust.

  "You have until noon," Logan reminded me.

  I waved at him, friendly as I could be. Then lightning struck my mind and I grabbed a waffle from under the heat lamp and walked over to join him. The look on his face was one of exceptional offense. How dare I sit down with him? Me? After I'd caused how many deaths of his pure, sweet, innocent people?

  Ah, I was a real bastard. "You said you won't help us. Fine. I get that. But you have so many horses in this race, I don't get why you're upset about the drones. Or about superheroes getting killed. It happens all the time. Are you blaming the Kipas on us?"

  "You're the reason they showed up."

  I mentally ticked off a checkmark box. 1-Edwin, 0-Logan. "How do you know that?"

  "You aren't going to give up until I sit down with you for a full fucking interview and explain every little decision. Are you?"

  The margarine spread wasn't the best I'd ever had, but it worked fine with the waffle. I swallowed my first bite, folded the wedge of waffle like a New York style pizza slice, and shoved the whole thing in my mouth. Then I nodded at him, wanting an excuse to not answer any questions he might have had.

  His eyes narrowed and he looked down at his bagel. It took him a while to finish it and I matched his pace with my waffle. Finally, there was no food left and he crushed his used paper coffee cup with his fist. "I don't want you leaking this to the rest of your friends. This isn't public knowledge and it's not something that any of you should have access to."

  "I solemnly swear I won't tell a soul, if that's what you decide you want me to do," I said, holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

  "About as good as anything I'd get from you, I suppose. Let's get up to my office."

  "No."

  Logan paused, having just started to get out of his chair. He frowned at me. "No? You aren't calling the shots here, boy. I am. You come with me or you forfeit your time."

  "You want me to know," I said. "You want me to know because you think it'll help us when we go face him down. But I don't want to be held in your office and I've been screwed around like that before. Don't you have some kind of forcefield you can generate?"

  "How the hell do you know that?"

  I shrugged. "I do my homework and I was on your mainframe running that operation last night. It isn't hard to take two seconds to look at someone's information while you're guiding superheroes around and keeping up on their vital signs."

  That got me a hard stare. "It's not hard?"

  "Not really. Not after all the operations I've run, with all due respect, sir. I'm a busy guy. I like to stay busy. When they're throwing punches, I'm usually looking at files and sorting through everything else. I appreciate that you think it's rough work, but it really isn't."

  The forcefield popped into existence around us and he sat back down, folding his arms in front of him. "It's been a long time since I ran into someone as well-managed as you are. James and his team do fantastic work, but you? You're something else. You didn't pass any sort of superpower test?"

  "If I have powers, they're ones that we don't consider powers," I said. "It doesn't really matter much to me. I'm happy where I am. I like making sure everyone's safe; or as safe as they can be." I paused, then moved my plate to the side. "I'm sorry that you lost people last night. That wasn't anyone's fault. You and I both k
now it just happens sometimes. You work your ass off to protect them but they're the ones out there getting stomped to death."

  "Or having cars dropped on them."

  I nodded. "Or that."

  Logan put his chin in his hand as he watched me. "I bet you're some kind of something. Super smart. Something. But if you're happy where you are, there's no reason to put you through a bunch of tests. I'm not just mad about losing people like Whirlwind. He was a good man. Took care of his family, took care of the people around him. I'm mad because of the way it happened. Scribe sent those Kipas to kill you and when he didn't manage to find you, he took it out on us."

  "So there's something between him and those aliens?" I asked, my heart in my throat. I'd been right?

  The man hesitated for a moment, checked the forcefield around us, and shrugged. "He made them. They're not aliens. He doodled them as a kid and discovered his powers that way. Word has it that he spent a bunch of time making friends with the one he drew, then went on to make an entire novelization of their race and way of life; the stuff most kids can do comfortably. Only he couldn't. And he sent them to the stars to dissolve himself of any responsibility."

  "He fucking made them?" I said, choking on the words. "Why didn't he just wipe them out? I've seen him erase whole books full of stuff. Burn them, get rid of them; all sorts of things."

  "Because he likes them, I'd guess. Some people are sentimental about their creative writing classes."

  "Jesus Christ, he's killing people because he likes his stupid little creative world?"

  "That's what I surmise," Logan said.

  I sat back in the seat absolutely flummoxed. All those years, all those injuries, and so many civilians hurt or dead. Scribe could have wiped it all out with a pen stroke and he didn't. He didn't do it because he liked them. "Everything's a lie."

  "Not what I just said."

  I shook my head. "No. Not what you just said. But everything else. God. We didn't know; if we did, we'd have never come here. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

  "So this isn't some sort of subterfuge? Something to throw me off my game? Son, I've been trying to get through to Yarborough for years and get Scribe pulled from his perch. He's not fit to lead. Should have retired years ago."

  "Maybe he thought we'd come here?" I said, uncertain and confused. "Why wouldn't you tell the world this?"

  He folded his arms before himself and I thought I'd gone too far. His veins bulged beneath the skin, threatening to wipe my scrawny ass off the map. "Emma's a good kid. She deserves her dad to come home one night, hopefully for good. And before all of this started to go down? It wasn't so much of an issue. People die, Noll. It happens every day, all day. I'm not responsible for all of them. Just the ones I have in here with me."

  "That doesn't include us."

  The fingers curled on one of his hands, not quite making a fist. "If you all want a transfer, you'd need to butter up to Scribe, not me. I'd take all of you in a heartbeat. Especially you. You're hard workers. But I can't put my superheroes at risk just to save you. If they go with you, so be it. But it's not an order that I'm giving after that pile of Kipas turned up. I just can't do that to them."

  I got it. I did, but I still hated it. If he'd revealed Scribe to the world, it could have ruined little Emma for the rest of her life. It could have ended with Scribe getting nabbed by some villain and forced to write horrors beyond imagination. And if Scribe hadn't been a lonely idiot who wanted to play with his imaginary friends, we wouldn't have been in this situation to begin with.

  "I appreciate the time, sir," I said, finally. "And I'll do my best to protect anyone who does decide to go with us"

  The forcefield around us dropped and he offered his hand out to me. I took it without hesitation and gave it a solid shake. That man's hand was the size of the plate my waffle had been on, but he was careful not to hurt me. "Get breakfast. Get clean and dressed. You have until nightfall to leave the city. That includes her apartment."

  "I thought it was noon?"

  "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Scat."

  There would never be a time that I could repay that man for what he was giving us. The ability to plan had nearly been outside of our hope, but there it was. I got food for the rest of the gang and had to use one of their room service carts to make it back to the infirmary.... Where I found no one waiting for me. James sent me back to the penthouse with a smile, telling me that Cassie had been cleared.

  Since she'd been the worst hurt of the group, of course the others had been let go, too. I pondered my way through breaking the information to the rest of them. I'd ripped apart all of the observation equipment in the penthouse within ten minutes of getting inside it. That didn't mean I hadn't missed something, but I didn't think I had.

  And besides, when we turned up ready to fight Kipas to the bitter end, Scribe would know that we knew anyway. No reason not to let him know already, especially if he was still listening in on us.

  I wheeled the cart into the penthouse and was practically attacked. Plates scraped, voices cried their thanks, and my people grabbed their food like they were possessed. Cassie sat down, perhaps a little more carefully than usual, on the couch. I sat next to her and she offered me a blueberry on the end of her fork.

  How could I turn it down? I took the berry and swallowed it whole. "We need to talk after everyone's eaten. I've got details I was expressly forbidden from telling any of you."

  "So you're going to tell us first thing, then. That encourages my confidence in you so much."

  I cocked a brow at her. "It does what to your confidence?"

  "I'm trying to use the big words around you. I thought you'd appreciate them," Cassie said, before digging into her breakfast like a ravenous shark.

  It only seemed fair to let them all eat. We were going to have one hell of a hard day and they deserved something nice before it started. As they chowed down, I tried to think of things I could do for Logan, if we succeeded. I didn't expect us to, but we'd spent the past while denying odds that were against us at an extreme level. Somehow we'd lived through Melody, we'd made it back out of the Dream, but Scribe was going to be too hard for us?

  "Take away his pen," I muttered to myself.

  No one caught it, but the idea had merit. To the best of my knowledge, Scribe's powers were best channeled through one of his special-requested pens. I'd designed most of them with his help, worked on them, made them something worth having.

  But.

  He'd already lied to us for decades. What if he was still lying to us? The pens had been cool and I was proud of them, but were they really how he operated? I turned that thought over in my head a half-dozen times before I stood up and walked over to one of the windows.

  A thousand stories below us walked the people of Thomaston. Kids held their parent's hand or cheerfully scampered a few feet in front of them, excited to see new sights. Few of them gave the Alliance building a second glance. It wasn't like back in Yarborough where people tried to avoid us as much as they could. I'd always thought that was the smart thing to do; you never knew when a superhero would zip out of the parking garage on their way to a job or blow past you trying to go help someone else.

  Here, the Alliance building was part of the community, not looming over it. I ground my teeth together. I'd been a part of some lightly oppressive, mismanaged force, for a very long time. And I didn't even realize it.

  What else was I missing? And what else was going to go wrong because I'd missed it?

  "Edwin?"

  I looked back at Cassie and found that she'd assembled everyone to surround the kitchen dining table again. I remembered the pancake launch and sighed, grateful that I hadn't been stupid enough to lay all that food out on that surface.

  Squaring my shoulders, I tried to work some steel into my spine. I was about to ruin the way most of them viewed the world, viewed Scribe. He had been so much to us. For crying out loud, he'd discovered most of us and helped us through times that I would
n't wish on our own parents.

  They say that superheroes are professionals at delivering bad news. Somehow, I doubted that the Thomaston Alliance was associated with that kind of thing. But we -were-.

  I wasn't a superhero.

  I was just a guy.

  But I faced down my co-workers, friends, lovers; my -family-. And I told them every bit of bad news I'd just learned.

  Chapter 15

  I don't know why it'd never occurred to us before. Yarborough was always the worst-hit area by the Kipas. They'd landed there, attacked there most often. I would hazard a guess to say most of the country was Kipa-free.

  Though I understood using something as a ploy to try to keep yourself on the map, hurting all those innocent people to do it was madness. Had I known at some point? Was that why I'd been poisoned and kept in the Dream for so long? My memory was too badly damaged to confirm it; there were just too many blank spaces where things didn't make sense.