by C. C. Ekeke
Raphael shrugged. “Natalie Rodriguez spread the news via Snapchat. Brie and Jordana had a huge fight at Five Cities Promenade a few hours ago. Now Jordana is to be shunned by Brie’s ‘loyal’ friends.”
Cold fingers of dread grazed Hugo’s spine as he noted the timing. Right after I tutored Jodie at the library. Him and Simon exchanged knowing looks.
Raphael continued. “Apparently their fight was over Brie getting back with Baz.” He turned a withering stare on Hugo. “I think the reason is closer.” Simon and Grace followed suit.
Hugo scowled at their silent accusations. “Why y’all looking at me?”
Raphael smirked. “We’ve all seen Jordana eyeing you like a snack at school. And you eyeing her back.”
Deny, deny. “Jodie and I are just friends.”
“It’s ‘Jodie’ now?” Raphael remarked coyly. “Hmmph.”
“Uh-huh,” Grace added, not buying the denial. Simon chuckled, popping Doritos in his mouth.
“Hmmph. Uh-huh what?” Hugo threw back, annoyed.
“Bogie.” Raphael draped a beefy arm around his shoulders. “Talk to ya boy, Dark Kent.”
“And ya girl,” Grace added, pointing to herself. “G-Mama.”
“Jordana went from despising you to flirting with you?” Raphael studied Hugo up and down. “What’s next? Love pocket privileges?”
Hugo’s eyes bulged in horror. “Jesus, Raph!” Laughing, he playfully pushed Raphael away.
Simon guffawed, drawing glares from snobby bystanders. “Good one.”
Grace stared at Raphael. “What’s a love pocket—OHHH!” She recoiled in revolted comprehension.
Hugo somehow reined in his hilarity. “I’m getting no privileges with Jordana.” The flirting between him and Jodie had gotten intense. But Hugo wouldn’t go further than that. Too much potential drama.
Grace covered her ears, visibly scarred by the joke. “You made that up?”
“I wish,” Raphael replied.
Grace’s reaction veered between disgust and glee. “Potty-mouthed bad man!”
Raphael took a melodramatic bow. “I aim to tease and please, G-Mama.”
Grace gasped but not before sarcastically mouthing, “Call me.” Sarcastic or not, Simon noticed and frowned.
Hugo grimaced seeing that. Still pining for Grace, even after getting friendzoned. “Alright. I need sleep.”
Raphael checked his watch. “I’m out, too. Movie night at Casa Turner.”
“So you can learn more double entendres,” Grace scolded. “I’m grabbing some ice cream first. Who wants in?” She eyed Simon meaningfully.
Knowing his BFF would cave, Hugo interjected. “Simon’s got that thing tomorrow morning.”
Simon looked momentarily baffled. “Right!” he blurted out. “My brand-new thing.” If Grace was upset, she hid it well. After exchanging farewells, the foursome parted ways.
Hugo guided a grumbling Simon toward the parking lot. “Stay strong. Keep walking.” He’d been in Simon’s position. And his friend had always tried to set Hugo straight. Now he could offer the same support.
Simon nodded in gratitude. “Didn’t you tutor Jordana today?”
“Before training.” Around Simon, Hugo could be truthful. He had offered to help Jordana with her math tests a few months back. She’d declined at first, until another failed quiz changed her tune. “We’ve been studying at the downtown library since December so no one would find out.”
Simon raised his brow. “You think Brie knows?”
“Maybe?” Hugo thought they’d been careful.
He and Simon sauntered past departing cars on the first level of Central Coast Plaza’s parking structure. “Are you dating Jodie?” Simon probed keenly. “Can’t blame ya with a face like hers.”
Hugo snorted. “I thought your eyes never got past her shoulders.”
“I’m evolving,” Simon replied, grinning.
Hugo avoided commenting on Jordana’s curves. It had taken two years and saving her from a car collision before she’d forgiven his “Jodie Big Cans” comment. But Hugo couldn’t deny his growing attraction to Jordana. “She’s sassy and all kinds of sexy.”
“But…”
“Briseis,” Hugo growled with intense loathing. Briseis El-Saden, the girl he’d thought would be endgame. “If their friendship ended because of me, I should keep away.”
Simon’s face darkened. He hated Brie more than Hugo. “Brie finds new ways to suck without appearing.”
Yet Brie nor other members of her squad were the only obstacles. “After Presley…” Remembering his first girlfriend still knifed through Hugo’s heart. The same ex-girlfriend who’d helped murder Titan. Knowing that dulled Hugo’s pain more each day. “I don’t have it in me to be someone’s boyfriend.” He’d enjoyed one short-lived hookup since Presley, casual and fun. Now Hugo wanted to attract similar ‘no strings attached’ relationships. “And once I start superheroing, I won’t have time for a girlfriend. Better to just have fun.”
“Speaking of…” Simon whispered, always careful in public places. “Are your work clothes ready?”
Hugo brightened. “Tomorrow night!”
Simon clapped excitedly. “I gotta see!”
“You will, after me.” Hugo paused, something catching his ear. Lady Liberty advised him to keep his superhearing active on low levels even off-duty. “Hold up.” Hugo scurried around the corner near the snaking line of cars exiting the parking lot. His jaw dropped.
Some rail-thin punk was dragging a screaming female driver out of her BMW sedan. Amid bright headlights and red parking lamps, some drivers honked or shouted at the carjacker. None tried to stop him.
Simon was equally stunned at the blatant robbery. “In front of everyone?”
Hugo shook his head. “You’d be surprised what people try in full view.” Before getting Titan’s powers, he’d gotten jumped constantly by Baz Martinez. Rarely had anyone intervened. “One second.”
Glancing about to ensure the coast was clear, Hugo rocketed forward. The carjacker slowed to a crawl, never seeing his swift two-finger poke to the chest.
Hugo boomeranged to Simon’s side a half-second later. Abruptly, the carjacker sailed across the lot, landing hard on the roof of a parked Suburban. He slid off in a heap, unconscious. The BMW driver scurried back into her car and shut the door, locking it.
Simon backpedaled, looking from the car to Hugo. “Did you just…?”
Hugo nodded proudly. Lacking a costume didn’t prevent him from helping those in need.
“You’re gonna be a kickass hero,” Simon gushed.
The praise warmed Hugo. “Hope so.” Despite Titan’s posthumous fall from grace, no one could debate the many lives he’d saved during his career. Hugo had ginormous shoes to fill.
“By the way,” Simon continued. “Can I get a ride home?”
“Again?” Hugo complained. This was the third time in a week. “Didn’t you take the SMAT here?”
“You’re faster than the subway,” Simon admitted unashamedly.
Hugo rolled his eyes. “Fine. You know the drill.” He headed behind a large white van wedged between two SUVs. Simon jumped for joy and followed.
Sighing belabouredly, Hugo picked his friend up like a small child. “This looks soooo wrong.”
“But feels soooo right,” Simon refuted. After his scan found no possible observers, Hugo zoomed off. And Simon howled happily like a dork.
Chapter 4
“Sir,” Quinn Bauer began, shivering. This chilly Central Coast weather should barely faze her New England-born self. Must be from her current dilemma. “There’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” her captor snapped. His eyes burned with disdain in the dim room.
“Then stand over there.” Quinn couldn’t help it. Stress made her sassy.
That earned her a stiff backhand, dropping Quinn to her knees. The sharp blast of pain left her eyes watery. She cradled her throbbing cheek,
sucking her teeth. Tonight had been a favor for a friend. Visit Harmony Casino, San Miguel’s brand-new gambling den, and brazenly count cards at a poker table to grab its owner’s attention. She even wore her favorite little black dress and a cute golden headband to hold back her curly afro.
Now, my friend needs to arrive, Quinn mused. After security had escorted the reporter from the poker table, they’d dragged her into this warehouse behind the casino. Quinn’s purse and earpiece had been confiscated, cutting off communication between her and her partner.
That left Quinn alone with daunting company. She was afraid, but not petrified as most should be. After she’d nearly died four times, this situation seemed almost pedestrian.
Isaac Powell, the man who’d slapped her, walked forward. Swarthy from too much sun, he had a square and pockmarked face. An imposing physique bulged beneath his clothing. Combined with slicked dark hair, Powell resembled a Goodfellas mobster, wearing civility like his black suit. He loomed over Quinn, flanked by five henchmen. She knew at a glance that Powell’s posse were professionals, with the merciless eyes of stone-cold killers.
“Counting cards in my casino,” Powell declared in distaste. “Using an earpiece.” He produced the earpiece removed from Quinn, tossing it on the floor and stomping hard. She recoiled. “Am I to believe you had no clue what you were doing?”
Quinn contained her rising panic, offering a glib shrug. “I was stepping out of my comfort zone.”
Powell scowled. “Or researching your next exposé?” He took pleasure in her shock. “I recognize your doll face from the news, unearthing superheroes’ dark secrets.” Powell’s men snickered.
Quinn swallowed a wisecrack. One got her slapped. Another might end her life. “I’m just a good journalist,” she answered.
Powell glanced back at his henchmen, crowdsourcing to see if they could believe the ovaries on Quinn. He clearly felt superior, in control. Pride before a fall. The casino owner crouched before her. Quinn tensed but didn’t retreat, refusing to feed his ego.
“I’m willing to forgive.” Powell rubbed his jaw. “Just reveal your partner.”
Quinn had to smirk, lessening her panic slightly. “You’d never believe me.”
Powell glared. “Fine.” He whipped out a gun, pointing at Quinn’s face. “Will this loosen your tongue?”
Quinn gulped, heartbeat galloping against her ribcage. Any minute now.
The ceiling lights flickered, then winked out. Darkness blanketed the gathering, save a few windows on either end of the warehouse. Quinn’s wishes had been granted.
Powell popped up, dragging Quinn by the arm. His henchmen promptly flanked the casino owner, guns drawn. “What just happened?” Powell demanded, aiming his handgun at no precise direction.
Quinn smiled obnoxiously as her heart soared. “Meet my partner.”
A whoosh sliced the air. Powell’s men whirled, aiming at darkness. None were afraid...yet.
Until something seized one henchman's collar, dragging him into darkness. A flurry of vicious pounding silenced his screams.
Powell stumbled back, dragging Quinn with him. By his pitter-pattering heartbeat into her shoulders, she knew he was scared. I warned him.
The four thugs fired at where their coworker had vanished, flashing gunfire briefly chasing away shadows.
Another whoosh heralded ghastly, bone-cracking strikes and one choked shriek. Another thug pitched forward, battered and bloodied.
Quinn gasped. Now the remaining three henchmen were afraid, shouting and waving their guns.
But Quinn’s partner was a predator toying with his prey. Powell practically had her in a chokehold from behind, a proper shield. He clearly realized nowhere was safe. Quinn agreed.
A panther-like silhouette dropped among the henchmen, lashing out faster than Quinn’s eyes could follow. And the warehouse erupted in flash-bangs, illuminating the dark as the thugs fired and missed. Pained cries and cracked bones joined rapid-fire blows and baton strikes. Then silence.
Only Powell remained, trembling. Quinn swallowed laughter, barely.
“Coward!” Powell brandished his firearm, trying to act tough. “Show yourself, or I kill the broad!”
“No, you won’t.” The unsettling voice seemed to emerge from purgatory’s depths, shivering through Quinn’s soul.
Powell whirled in that direction, right when a spinning baton whistled through the dark. The weapon walloped Powell in the nose, snapping his head back. Quinn shoved him off before his unconscious body sagged to the floor.
The tonfa clattered on concrete and stilled.
Quinn dropped to a knee, breathing hard. Adrenaline left her exhilarated, feeling alive.
Quinn didn’t hear his movements, but she sensed his presence the moment he knelt before her. Two glowing demon-red eyes were staring back. Quinn nodded in gratitude.
Geist wore his usual attire: a smooth and featureless mask, light-armored suit covering a wiry build, and that billowing trench coat. The Midnight Son was an urban myth to the public, feared by criminals and a useful menace for local authorities.
To Quinn, Geist was an ally. He laid gentle fingers on her bare arm. “You alright?” He spoke softly, indicating worry. “After he took your earpiece—”
Quinn waved off the concern. “I’m peachy.” She stood.
Geist grabbed his tonfa and rose also. He had several inches on her, his imperious presence making him seem taller. The lights winked back on, revealing Geist’s handiwork. Six unconscious men sprawled around them, most with limbs bent in stomach-turning positions.
Quinn shuddered and focused on Geist, who looked over her head. “The flash drive?”
“Got it.” The baritone voice from behind startled Quinn. She recovered quickly, identifying the speaker. The ninja entrances always freaked her out.
Blackjack, another of Geist’s team, was a brawling bear of a man who towered over his boss. His suit was all-black, a sable bandana/mask covering his eyes and nose. He grinned, a thumb-shaped flash drive in his massive palm. “Clint talked me through the technobabble to download what we need,” Blackjack said, mentioning Geist’s tech guru.
Quinn sighed, tension she hadn’t noticed draining from her shoulders. That flash drive had been tonight’s goal. Quinn's distraction had allowed Blackjack to hack data on Powell's money laundering for the Ukrainian Brotherhood from his office. And Geist had protected Quinn. This misadventure was the least she could do for the vigilantes who’d saved her life.
“So I wasn’t held at gunpoint for nothing,” Quinn joked.
Blackjack chortled. Geist’s stare silenced him. “Any opposition?”
“Some.” Blackjack handed the drive over. “Until they met my fists.” He kissed the blood-stained knuckles on both gloved hands, his post-battle ritual.
Geist cast a detached look at the bodies lying about. “Tie this scum up.”
An hour later, police lights washed over Harmony Casino. San Miguel’s finest perp-walked Powell and several employees to awaiting cars. Quinn was a block away huddled in a van, holding her retrieved purse.
Blackjack occupied the driver’s seat, more interested in an alleyway across the street. Quinn followed his gaze, seeing Geist partially shrouded and speaking with two plain-clothes cops. The lady cop, coffee-brown-skinned with long braids, sported a hooded leather jacket and jeans. The guy cop, caramel in complexion, was rangy with buzzcut hair in a cheap olive suit. Despite hearing nothing, the easy chemistry between the cops and Geist surprised Quinn.
“Geist seems chummy with folks who label him a criminal.”
Blackjack shook his head. “Smoke and mirrors. Many in San Miguel PD oppose our mission. But we’ve turned a handful of cops into allies.” He gestured at the detectives as Geist gave them a copy of the flash drive he’d procured. “Like Detectives Rhodes and Delgado.” The strapping vigilante removed his bandana mask, revealing an attractive, strong-jawed face. The van purred to life. “Let’s get you home.”
Qu
inn yawned in agreement, eyeing her cellphone. Half past midnight. Time flies.
They pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway when a question nagged at Quinn’s brain. She enjoyed Blackjack’s company but had expected Geist’s more frequent associate aiding them. “Where’s the rest of your team?” she inquired with put-on innocence. No need to be obvious.
Blackjack side-eyed her and smirked. He saw through her ploy. “Domino and Longshadow are on city patrol.”
Quinn’s skin flushed. “Ah.” Geist usually had someone on his team patrolling San Miguel when he was busy. Tonight, Domino, Blackjack’s wife, and Longshadow, aka Therese Levesque, got patrol duty. The Night Sisters, they called themselves. Quinn fixed her face, secretly thankful Therese wasn’t here.
The Olympic-level archer turned vigilante had saved Quinn’s life twice during her investigation into Titan’s murder. Since then, Quinn didn’t know how to classify this odd friendship—if one could call it that. They met infrequently when Quinn needed story sources only Geist’s informants could provide. Their charged, intrusive banter always irked Quinn. Then came the cheeky text exchanges that left Quinn flustered…prompting her to get the last word in. She also didn’t care for these sporadic worries over Therese’s wellbeing. The City of Wonder’s bright lights masked an ugly underbelly, its darker corners hiding unspeakable terrors.
Quinn eagerly changed subjects from Therese. “How many friendlies do you have in the police?”
“Some unies. Detectives Delgado and Rhodes,” Blackjack answered, focused on the road. “Detective Delaney, sometimes. Sherriff Edmonds—”
That last name jerked through Quinn like lightning. “Alexandra Edmonds?” Blackjack had to be joking. “Head of San Luis Obispo Sheriff’s Department?”
Blackjack nodded without smiling. “Geist becoming active a decade ago exposed tons of police corruption. Edmonds arrived a few years later to help refill the police department during its housecleaning.” He turned onto the first Arroyo Grande exit. “Her other orders were to capture or kill Geist.”
Quinn shook her head, baffled by this thread in Geist’s history. “Yet Edmonds became a supporter?”