*
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Walsh said.
Cassie wished somebody could come up with a different way to express sympathy. She smiled and accepted the offered hand, grateful for the familiar face. Most of these people she didn’t even know, but that was okay. It wasn’t about her. It was about an old rascal who had made his mark on so many lives through the years. Everyone remembered him for his wisdom, kindness and humor, and that wasn’t a bad way to be memorialized. She hoped she could leave some smiles behind when her time came.
“How are you doing, dear? Have you been eating?”
Cassie accepted a hug from Bill Walsh’s wife, Andrea, and assured her that she was taking care of herself. Little Marissa peered from behind Andrea’s voluminous skirt. Cassie squatted down and opened her arms.
“Come give me a hug, missy.”
Marissa’s shyness fell away, and she gave Cassie the exuberant, warm embrace that only a child can. Cassie noted the faint scars that peeked from the neckline of her dark blue dress. She pressed her fingertips against them and summoned the green. She couldn’t heal the emotional scars of losing her father, but this she could do. With the physical reminders of Marissa’s tragedy erased, the rest was up to Bill and Andrea. They had started the process of adopting Marissa.
“I heard you finally got that ride with the Guardian,” Cassie said. “Was it cool?”
Marissa beamed a huge smile and nodded as fast as she could.
“Nice service,” Bill Walsh said as she stood to accept his hug. “I wish I’d gotten to know him better. From the stories I’ve heard, he was quite the character.”
Cassie smiled. “That he was.”
Nate approached, pausing a short distance away to make sure he wasn’t intruding. She hoped she never got used to his gallantry. Taking him for granted would be a crime.
“Cass? Sorry to interrupt. Etienne is about to leave.”
She excused herself and made her way to the line of cars waiting nearby. Etienne looked as dashing and dangerous as ever in his leather duster and Ray-ban sunglasses, even more so now that she’d convinced him to ditch the cowboy hat. She noticed that in deference to the solemn occasion he had even buttoned up his shirt.
“My apologies, Cassie. My flight leaves soon.”
They exchanged hugs. The excitement coming from him was electric, bordering on giddy. Even in this setting, she understood his thrilled anticipation. He was on a quest and his goal was almost within his grasp.
“I take it Walsh was able to find more info on your dream girl?”
Once XAC was out of their hair, Walsh had arranged for a police sketch artist to join Etienne in his mindscape. Nate had fed the resulting drawing into the systems in his Lair to run facial recognition software against the wealth of photo data on the internet. The most promising lead was a girl seen in the background of a stock photo taken in Alabama.
“Indeed. Her name is Jennifer, Jennifer Waldren. The address they found is no longer current, but my hope is that our connection will strengthen as we grow nearer.”
“I know you’ll find her, Etienne. You two share a bond that can’t be broken. And when you do find her, I hope you’ll bring her and join us. You’ll always be welcome here, both of you.”
Etienne looked into her eyes. She knew he was only reading what she had uppermost on her mind. She was surrounded by gallantry. She gave him the answer he was looking for. He took her hand and kissed it, courtly and in the manner of a gentleman. Then he took his place in the taxi and waved the driver on.
Nate raised an eyebrow, his left. It brought a smile to Cassie’s lips. “Us?” he asked.
“I have some things I need to take care of, but can we meet tonight? Your place, say a little before sunset? On the roof?”
The look on his face was priceless. He tilted his head, acquiescing to her request without requiring explanation. She raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
“Wear the suit. Leave the helmet.”
*
She had the Uber driver drop her off at the ruins of the old Bank of America building. The “For Sale” signs on the chain link fence had been removed, replaced by ones belonging to an engineering firm – Starforce Ltd. Most people wouldn’t make the connection between that company and its deceased founder, much less the son who had now claimed his inheritance of it. For now, Nate owned it through a proxy, but someday that legal pretext would be unnecessary. She remembered now seeing the company’s starburst logo on paperwork his father had insisted on fiddling with as she tried to check up on his repaired heart. James Gorman had been a handful. One corner of her mouth tilted up at the idea of Big Jim Gorman and the rogue Riley Whelan meeting over drinks in the afterlife. It was a pity those two had never met.
“That would have been epic,” she laughed aloud.
Turning, she looked up at the place she’d called home for a brief time - the nondescript office building where Nate’s Lair hid in plain sight. Maybe she would call it home again, and maybe there were better things in store after that, like the shining tower Nate planned to build here. She knew she couldn’t go back to her little apartment, for the same reasons she couldn’t go back to the ER. Everyone knew what she was and what she could do. She’d made it clear to Memorial and all of the area hospitals that she would make herself available for the toughest cases, but she expected the doctors to do their utmost before calling on her. She couldn’t be everywhere at once.
She crossed the street and headed for the door to the Lair’s lobby. There was an automated entry system that would admit her, but she decided to take another way. She walked around the corner, heading down a driveway between two buildings. When she was sufficiently out of sight, she rose up on her toes and floated up the side of the building to the roof. A breeze lifted the hem of her black dress and she flashed back to a night not so long ago when she’d tumbled through the night sky, without direction or control. Now she had both.
The view from the roof was incredible, and she remembered taking off from here on those nights when Nate was teaching her how to control her levitation ability. The sun was on its way down in the western sky as she entered a code on the keypad and descended the stairs.
*
Nate arrived on the rooftop to find her in the black uniform he had made. The reinforced smart-fabric fit her perfectly, adjusting itself automatically to conform. The boots were more streamlined than what she had worn to battle Ballantine. Despite the clusters of micro-thrusters that clung to them like technological barnacles, they looked sleek, almost feminine, without resorting to ridiculous high heels. The arm bracers were a bit larger than she had expected - wide bright gold metal that nearly covered her entire forearm and came to V-shaped points at her wrists. The defensive belt mirrored that design, wide metal that dipped to a point in the front and back.
“You always look good in black.” Nate landed and pulled off his helmet. His hair was tousled and sexy.
“I hope it’s not too hot,” she said.
Nate grinned. “For you, that’s unavoidable, Cass.”
She made a face at him, but then did a fashion model turn so he could see her from every angle. “I dunno. I’m totally covered. Like, Sharia Law covered. Maybe you could make a version that’s a little less, I don’t know, repressed? Lose the sleeves maybe?”
He walked over, affecting a look of contemplation as he looked her up and down. “Sure, sure. Maybe shorter leggings too.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Nix the body suit altogether, bring back the corset. Add some fishnet stockings and a thong. Call yourself the Night Nurse.”
“Then what would I wear off-duty, like if I wanted to look sexy?”
He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. She pressed against him, drinking in his warmth. “One shoe,” he said. “Singular.”
The grin that erupted almost made her cheeks hurt. “Kinky.”
They stood there, enjoying the moment - no villain to fight, no mysteries to
solve, no government threats looming over her. The two of them bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “I have something for you.”
He reached inside the neck of his uniform and pulled out a gold necklace chain. He reached around and unfastened the clasp, holding the suspended pendant out for her to see. The ruddy sunset glow gave the gold a reddish hue.
L’etoile. The Star.
“Your necklace. It came free?”
He nodded and started to place it around her neck. She pulled back, alarmed. “I can’t. I mean, that was your mother’s. I can’t accept that. It’s practically a part of you. It was a part of you.”
“And now it’s free. And so am I. You helped me move forward. You healed my scars - all of them. Now I’m ready for the future, and I hope you’ll be a part of that.”
She looked into his eyes and felt the warmth, not only from his body, but also from his heart. She didn’t say a word but gathered up her hair and lifted it out of the way. He placed the chain around her neck and secured the clasp. It hung down on her chest, like an emblem. She looked from it to Nate and an idea came to her.
“I think you’ve outgrown the gray,” she said. “How do you feel about blue and gold?”
He shrugged. “I think I could handle that. I’ve been thinking about a cape too.”
Cassie laughed, but the image that came to her was anything but laughable. He might actually be able to pull that look off. She unzipped her bodysuit a couple of inches and withdrew the cloth patch she had tucked next to her heart. It was round with a large red cross embroidered in the center and seven stars on and around the cross. At the bottom the letters ‘AH-5’ were stitched in red.
“This was Granny’s ship, the one at Pearl. It was there when it was needed, and so was Granny. It was fate, destiny. I’m not going to be just a number. This is the name I’ll use, how I want the world to know me.”
Arched across the top of the patch was the ship’s name - USS SOLACE.
“Solace,” he said. “Damn, that’s good.”
She floated up, her face rising to the level of his. She floated there for a moment, feeling the excitement in him, mixing with her own as she slipped the patch back inside her new uniform.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, deeply. This was the kiss she wanted, the one she had waited a lifetime for. It was the kiss that promised many more to come. They both drifted up, turning in a slow pirouette, bathed in the warm golden light as they rose high above the city. She broke the kiss, slowly, her lips lingering near his as a playful grin grew and spread to her eyes.
“Last one to Stone Mountain has to cook breakfast.”
She pointed her toes and tongues of flame erupted from her boots. Her laughter was almost lost in the roar as she rocketed up and away from him, into the purpled sky. Her contagious grin found a new home on his lips as he launched after her.
EPILOGUE
Sergeant Santiago Alfaro stood at attention before the senator’s desk, his dress cap tucked under one arm. Jacobs opened a humidor on the credenza behind him and removed an expensive cigar. Alfaro was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to be invited to join the senator in a celebratory smoke. After his screw-up in Atlanta he fully expected to leave this meeting a buck private.
“You’re sure?” Jacobs asked. “She healed without physical contact?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you able to estimate her range?”
“Not with accuracy, but we have anecdotal evidence that she may have affected people a quarter mile away.”
Jacobs looked at the cigar for as moment. Alfaro waited while his superior worked his way through the thought process. “A radiant healer. We haven’t seen one of those since... What was his name?”
“Michael, sir. He called himself Archangel.”
“Yes, Archangel. Late 1700’s if I recall my history. Nasty piece of work, that one. His healing aura could be reversed - anti-healing or some such. Vengeful son of a bitch if the history books can be believed.”
“Yes sir. Supposedly immortal. They say he lived over two hundred years and didn’t age a day. Who knows how long he would have lived if he hadn’t killed himself. Do you think she’s like him? An Angel?”
“Lord, I hope not, but it’s probably safest to assume she is for now. What kind of readings did the sensors get from Whelan’s energy output during the fight?”
Alfaro swallowed hard. This was the part that was going to cost him his stripes. He and his team had screwed up royally in missing her offensive abilities.
“She pegged the scale at ten to the fifteenth. How far beyond that she rates? Well, we’ll need to invent a new kind of sensor to find out.”
Jacobs sliced off the end of the cigar with a cutter that looked old and expensive. “Ten to the fifteenth,” he mused. “That’s in the same range as a small nuke, isn’t it?”
Alfaro nodded, then remembered he was probably being recorded. “Yes sir. More than ten times the Nagasaki bomb.”
Jacobs regarded the cigar again. Alfaro couldn’t recall seeing the senator look worried before. He was an arrogant SOB, the kind that had become accustomed to getting his way. But this new exo had him nervous. Alfaro waited while the senator lit his cigar with short puffs to ignite the rolled tobacco, then closed the lighter with a decisive snap.
“And he survived that.” Jacobs took a long draw on his cigar, thinking. “An Angel, and a Class 10 Titan - working as a team. That’s not good, not good at all. Especially after the legal stunt they pulled.”
“Yes sir. I never would have expected that from him. Gorman’s been scrupulously compliant until now. Clearly, she’s had an effect on him. The pro-exo factions are already using her pardon as the basis to challenge the Exohuman Control Act as unconstitutional.”
Alfaro bit back the accusation that almost rose to his lips. If Jacobs hadn’t been so full of himself, playing the part of magnanimous ruler, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. Allowing Gorman to write up Whelan’s pardon for his flourished signature was a mistake. The language had been carefully crafted to throw the entire ‘non-human’ basis of the Exohuman Control Act into doubt. Jacobs - a high-ranking government official – had officially recognized the rights of an exohuman, in writing. Already, judicial restraining orders had forced XAC to relax their handling of new and existing exos - all because Jacobs had overplayed his hand.
For sure, Jacobs was a fool, but since he held Alfaro’s career in his hand, this wasn’t the time to voice that opinion.
Jacobs regarded the glowing end of his cigar as he thought. He exhaled slowly, the smoke rising around his head. “They’re becoming more powerful, Alfaro. That’s not to be repeated outside of this room, by the way. Each generation is showing greater ability, with fewer of the useless and deformed ones Emerging. And, if our registration database is anywhere near accurate, they’re coming at a faster rate. New exohuman Emergences have increased almost thirty percent in the last hundred years.”
Alfaro suppressed a shudder.
“There’s a war coming, son. A war we can’t afford to lose.”
END
Acknowledgements:
What started as a set of role-playing avatars in the City of Heroes MMO game have evolved into characters with depth and texture, and it took a lot of people to get to this point.
For starters, I want to thank the writing groups I was lucky enough to find along this journey. Christina Renallo’s PenPaperWrite group was the first place outside my family where my work was appreciated and encouraged. It was there that I learned how to structure a story, and to show truth in the hearts of my characters.
Thank you to the Thursday edition of the 10 Days Before (10dB4) writer’s critique group (which, sadly, no longer exists). It became my refuge and the crucible in which my work was purified. I learned when to incorporate input from others and when to defend my voice to the death. I also made some dear friends there.
Th
e Atlanta Writer’s Conference is another place where I learned critical lessons - this time about how the publishing world works, and how to present my work in a way that creates interest. Bonus thanks to Terra Weiss for organizing the 10dB4 conference prep classes that kept me from crashing and burning at my first AWC.
I want to thank my friends, beta readers and fellow struggling creators. They pored over every word more than once, constantly pushing me to get it published. Thanks to Aaron Bentzel, who has a knack for seeing the heart of my stories and helping me to bring it to light. He’s also bears the distinction of writing the first fanfic about my characters. I’m grateful to Faith Lindbom, for her continuing friendship and encouragement, and for just being there. Merci beaucoup to Mary Beecroft for keeping Etienne’s French straight, and for helping me see his role in this story. Thanks to Tenesha Curtis and Amber Hansford for all their advice when I finally decided to self-publish. And finally, I want to thank Rachael Curtis - she saw potential in my earliest scribblings about Cassie and Nate, fanning that spark into a bonfire. I just wish she could see the finished product. I miss you, my friend.
Thanks also to Isabel Westling for allowing the use of her beautiful painting, Red, for the cover and her willingness to tailor her work to fit my vision. She’s a pleasure to work with and a true professional. Tack så mycket.
And of course, I have to thank my parents, who let me be the weird kid who didn’t like sports and loved science. They gave me my first comic books and raised me to seek truth and justice. I couldn’t have had a better upbringing if I’d grown up on the Kent farm in Smallville.
And finally, my undying gratitude to my LadyWife, Deb. She healed me when I was wounded and blasted me when I needed it. She’s always seen my true heart and championed my cause. This book is for you, my love.
Burden of Solace: Book 1 of the Starforce Saga Page 26