by C. C. Ekeke
The distraction cost her. Vargas drew his uninjured leg in, kicking Therese in the stomach. The archer flew backward into Quinn’s bedroom, landing hard on her back. The wolfman fought to his feet despite his restrained arms, throwing a bone-chilling glower at Quinn.
Then Vargas looked to his companion, crying and clutching the arrow stuck in her ankle.
“On my back,” Vargas growled. The Asian girl wrapped her arms around his neck. Vargas loped toward the window full-tilt, diving through in an explosion of glass. Quinn ran to the window. Vargas landed on the sidewalk in a crouch from a five-story drop, howling from his injuries. Several pedestrians scattered in audible terror. Vargas fought through the pain and bounded across the street with the girl on his back, vanishing into the night.
Quinn withdrew back inside as several bystanders began pointing at her floor. She leaned against a wall and slumped to a seat, taking deep breaths.
Therese emerged from her bedroom, favoring her ribs. She eyed the shattered window then Quinn, nodding gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Likewise,” Quinn rasped, wincing at her bruised throat. The danger she was in still didn’t feel real. “You were right about my apartment.”
Therese nodded. “We have minutes before your place gets too much attention.” She marched across the apartment, bending down to snatch up her arrows. “Pack that suitcase, eh.”
The order jarred Quinn out of her daze. “Sure.” She pulled her sore body upright and limped for her bedroom.
Chapter 30
Greyson hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. They’d been driving around St. Louis since yesterday afternoon, using only the fake credit cards St. Pierre provided. The half a dozen times Greyson stopped, he stayed put no longer than an hour before driving off again.
Paranoia kept him searching for any car tailing too long or looking like an OSA SUV. Thankfully, nobody followed. Definitely not the St. Louis police.
After Greyson and Connie had ditched their phones, he could only guess a manhunt was underway for them both. His fear spiked further.
Rescuing Connie had been a stupid risk. Even with the hockey mask, wielding his gravity powers in broad daylight would give anyone a clue who had rescued her. Yet Greyson held no regrets. He glanced back at Connie in the backseat, curled up and shivering since the rescue. When Greyson had explained Tom’s treachery, only then had Connie expressed fury.
“Tom? Fucking Tom?” she’d snarled. “I’ll punch his traitorous head off.”
Aside from that, Connie remained silent and shell-shocked. Understandable, Greyson grasped. Her life as she knew it was over. Like his own. And who knew how OSA had subjugated her before he’d arrived.
Greyson forgave himself and tapped the throttle, accelerating past another freeway entrance. He should’ve left town already and never looked back. But Greyson couldn’t, not without saying goodbye to Lauren. The notion of leaving her made him want to dry heave. But he forced himself to accept that new reality, barely. Greyson waited until dark before returning to their condo, parking a block away.
Connie snapped out of her catatonic state when they parked. She frowned at the darkened street. “Why are we here?”
Greyson unbuckled his seatbelt. “Something I need to do.” He opened the door, leaving the keys inside.
Connie grabbed Greyson’s shoulder. “What about OSA?”
Greyson offered a reassuring smile he didn’t feel. “I’ll be quick.” He glanced up and down the street, seeing only a few cars passing by. “Coast looks clear.” Greyson stepped out slowly, heart thudding painfully. The fear returned. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, take the car and go.”
“Hirsch,” Connie called out. “Thanks.” Her gaze held such gratitude, warmth flooded his body.
Greyson nodded, closing the car door before jogging across the street. As he entered the complex, Greyson’s fear deepened. He didn’t want to leave the life he’d built with Lauren. But fate had dealt him another hand. Hurricane failed us. “Should’ve never trusted that fraud,” he growled under his breath. Before long, Greyson stood at his front door. By the thin line of light near the welcome mat, Lauren was home. Greyson’s heart lurched. Now for the hard part. Pushing any resistance down, he turned the key and entered.
She was in the common room speaking sternly. Hearing her was a sweeter agony than Greyson knew. “Laurie,” he called out, voice ragged with longing.
“Gotta go,” Lauren told whoever she spoke with, entering the foyer in sweats and a t-shirt. “Grey?”
“It’s me, Laurie.” Greyson’s vision teared up.
“Jesus!” Lauren lunged at him, wrapping herself around his body. “Where were you?” She sounded angry, afraid, and relieved all at once. “I called your work. Your parents.” She pulled away to study him.
Greyson opened his mouth to speak, and these last two days struck with savage force. He burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Laurie,” he sobbed, pressing his forehead on hers. “I’m so sorry!”
Through tearful eyes, Greyson saw Lauren’s surprise. “Babe!” She cupped his face in her tender hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “What happened?”
Greyson couldn’t stop crying. “Everything’s fucked. And I can’t fix this.”
“Grey.” Lauren pulled him into a sweet, sensual kiss to ease his anguish. “Talk to me,” she requested. “What's the matter?”
Greyson shook his head, eyes squeezed shut to escape the pain of his next words. “I have to leave St. Louis,” he wept. “But not before saying goodbye.”
Lauren recoiled. “What?” Her voice was a sharp slap.
“OSA’s after us.” Greyson stared at the ceiling and wept. “Tom rolled on everyone. They grabbed Kathy and Big Izzie yesterday. Almost got Connie…” Tears falling, Greyson eyed his watch. Seven minutes. Not much longer. He kissed a stunned Lauren, brief but passionate, wanting more. “I can’t risk you getting implicated. Just know I love you.” Releasing Lauren, he turned to leave.
“Stop.” Lauren blocked his path to the door. “You’re not going anywhere.” She lifted her hands in reassuring fashion, like some hostage negotiator. “It’s going to be okay.”
She doesn’t understand, Greyson realized. “No, it won’t,” he replied wearily. “The longer I stay, the more danger you’re in.” He moved to pull her aside.
Lauren wouldn’t budge. She closed her eyes, fighting back irritation. “No one’s coming to arrest you.” Lauren opened her eyes with a wounded sigh. “Not the police. Not OSA. Not the FBI.”
Greyson stared. Her unshakeable certainty was troubling. “How could you know that?”
Lauren mustered up the courage to open her eyes and meet his questioning gaze. “Tom didn't flip. I made a deal with the OSA for your immunity. I was going to tell you at lunch yesterday. But you never showed.” Lauren held out her arms, reaching for him.
The revelation stole Greyson’s breath for several moments. His brain filled with bewildered, half-formed thoughts. “How…” Disbelief boiled into searing anger. “How could you?”
Lauren’s arms dropped, her smile vanishing. “Excuse me?”
“You went behind my back,” Greyson seethed, “and sold out the rest of my team? And Hurricane?” Fury seared through every cell of his body. His team and mentor betrayed by his fiancée. The realization nearly dropped Greyson to his knees like a gut punch.
Lauren looked confused. “I did this to save you, Greyson. Why are you mad?”
Greyson got in her face. “You betrayed me! Sold out good people! Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Lauren stood defiant—and angry. “I only care about saving your life, Grey!”
Greyson, drowning in fury, grabbed Lauren’s shoulders and shook her. “You have no idea what they do to imprisoned supers!” he bellowed. The air quivered as his rage soared. “You had no right!”
Lauren’s face twisted in pain. “Grey…” she gasped, “you’re hurting me.”
Greyson heard none of that, scream
ing at Lauren, shaking his girlfriend to get some sense in her. The air tensed and quivered more, vibrating almost.
Lauren wilted the harder Greyson shook her. “Greyson,” she wheezed. “Stop. Please…stop.” Her eyes glazed over, right before the sounds of bones crackling and popping pierced through Greyson’s rage.
“Laurie?” He stopped shaking Lauren, seeing her suffering for the first time. The air stopped vibrating. “Laurie. What’s wrong? What is—?” Greyson let her go. What he saw unmoored him.
Lauren’s arms were crushed where he’d gripped them, leaving them both hanging like disfigured and dead things. “Grey…I…” Blood dribbled out of Lauren’s mouth. Her knees gave out, and she crumpled.
Greyson stared down at her in horror. “Oh my God. Lauren! I…I didn’t mean to!” He’d done that to her. My powers… he realized, staring at his hands like one would venomous snakes. I lost control.
Greyson dropped to her side. She convulsed violently, arms flopping uselessly. “Lauren, please stay,” he begged, reaching for her face, but Greyson stopped himself, fearful of doing more harm. “Laurie, I’m sorry. I’m so…”
He realized Lauren couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were blank, lifeless. She was dying because of him. He scrambled up for her cellphone on the countertop and called 911.
“Please come immediately!” he demanded after explaining Lauren’s condition and exact address. “She’ll die if you don’t reach her.”
Greyson wanted to fly her to the hospital himself but was afraid to touch her again. The choked grunting noises she was making forced his eyes away.
Staying here could keep Lauren alive. Greyson didn’t deserve freedom after what he’d just done. Staying here would also get Connie captured. Connie. He’d almost forgotten about her. All he’d risked would mean nothing if she paid for his loss of control.
Greyson ran out the front door without closing it. Anguish drove him faster. His mind was on fire, heart shredded. Lauren was dying. Because of him.
Monster… coward, he raged, tears leaking anew. Greyson didn’t stop until he reached the car.
Connie waited in the backseat. “Thank God. I was about to hop in the driver’s seat!”
Greyson ignored her, hollowed out top to bottom. Starting the ignition, he drove off as fast as possible.
Chapter 31
“Jesus.” That was the first word Simon uttered in fifteen minutes.
“Yeah,” Hugo replied, staring off at the streets beyond Paso Robles High. The pair sat near rusted fences, finishing their burgers away from other students. Hugo had told Simon what happened after the dance performances. Briseis. The fight with Baz, TJ, and DeDamien. Presley’s murder-happy request.
Simon inhaled deeply, crumpling his burger wrapper. “No wonder you couldn’t talk over the phone.”
“And waited until after the counselors questioned you,” Hugo added, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Plausible deniability.”
“You burn your clothes from that night?” Simon asked.
Hugo side-eyed him, annoyed. “Dumped the ashes down in Lompoc. I’ve watched Law & Order.”
Monday had been an odd, seesaw day. The attack on Baz, TJ, and DeDamien had cast a gloomy pall over campus, exacerbated by impenetrable overcast skies. Buzzing shock and anger lingered on students’ and teachers’ lips. Hugo had been on edge the moment he’d arrived on campus, fretting over whether someone knew what he’d done. Wondering when he’d get caught. Yet most students he’d encountered offered high-fives or compliments on his Fall Fling dancing. If his nerves weren’t so frayed, Hugo might’ve appreciated the praise more. A smaller contingent, mostly basketballers, eyed him with hateful suspicion. No doubt they suspected Hugo was behind the attack on their two teammates and TJ.
“I heard Presley calling for help, then saw Baz putting his hands on her…” Hugo closed his eyes, desperate to forget the all-consuming hate. “I snapped.”
“Understandable, man,” Simon stated, so sympathetic. Such a loyal, true friend. “She’s your girl.”
That didn’t soothe Hugo. “Simon.” He opened his eyes, looking straight at him. “You were right to fear me. I almost…” Killed Baz Martinez. The words stuck in his throat.
“You didn’t,” Simon countered, placing a reassuring hand on Hugo’s shoulder. “What’s the word from the students they’ve interviewed?”
Hugo grimaced. “My name’s coming up a lot. But everyone says I had no contact with Baz and his friends at Fall Fling. Which is partially true…” Hugo did another superhearing sweep around campus. He could hear from over a mile away now.
School officials were on a manhunt, coordinating with San Miguel PD and the enraged parents of Baz, TJ, and DeDamien. All day, Principal Walker and a few counselors had interviewed students who’d attended Fall Fling to uncover the attacker. Hugo had been eavesdropping on the interviews during class. Part of him felt relieved they hadn’t found the culprit yet. Another part felt mounting dread. His name kept coming up when many students got asked who might have cause to attack Baz.
“Hugo Malalou.”
“Hugo.”
“That Hugo kid.”
“The buff Asian sophomore? Dances like Usher in the 00s?”
They’re closing in. By fourth period, Hugo had gotten so nervous, his fingers left gouges beneath his desk. Simon had told officials what he knew at the time, which was nothing. He also mentioned Hugo being in San Miguel when he'd called after Fall Fling. At least Simon hadn’t been forced to lie. It was only a matter of time before counselors interviewed Hugo, who’d have to lie. Honesty would destroy his family’s lives. That sent chills through Hugo. The parents of Baz, TJ, and DeDamien were already filing lawsuits against Paso High and San Miguel School District. Basically, Hugo had made a big fucking mess.
“Speaking of Baz,” Simon inquired, regaining Hugo’s attention.
Hugo let out a laborious sigh. “He told police he didn’t see who jumped him but knew it was several people. Same with DeDamien and TJ.” Baz must have relayed Hugo’s warning to them, thank God. How long would that threat keep them quiet?
Simon clearly had the same worries. “Baz is a known asshole. Just like his minions.” Worry etched into his moon-shaped face. “What if he talks? Even with Presley’s recording.”
Hugo shrugged, dreading that answer. “I’ll hand over the tape, then turn myself in.”
“We’re not there yet,” Simon protested, waving off the fear.
“But if I lose my temper again…and hurt someone even worse?” Hugo had tried ignoring that likelihood for two days. But with the prospect of jailtime staring at him, he had to consider the worst.
“We’ll figure something out that keeps you out of prison.” Simon changed topics. “How’s Presley?”
“Healed up.”
Simon frowned. “I’m sensing a ‘but’.”
Hugo sighed and hugged his knees. Presley was the other topic weighing on him. “I can’t shake the feeling that she…I dunno…set Baz, TJ, and DeDamien up.”
“How?”
“Yeah, Baz, TJ, and DeDamien are muscly athletes. But I’ve seen Presley fight,” Hugo explained. “She could’ve destroyed those three singlehandedly. And the audio recording she sent me started just before they attacked her, in the middle of her mouthing off to them.” Hugo felt guilty accusing Presley of manipulating him. But the evidence kept piling up.
“She knows your history with Baz?” Simon asked.
“I told her everything,” Hugo admitted. “Even when Baz and I used to be friends.” The night they’d first made love had been the first of many times he’d opened up to Presley.
Simon looked unnerved. “That’s shady. Have you two spoken since Saturday?”
“Presley came over Sunday,” Hugo said, cheeks warming. “We didn’t do much talking.” Mind-blowing as the sex had been, using it to avoid confronting his girlfriend left Hugo with a cowardly taste in his mouth. “How am I supposed to ask? Great job in the sack, babe. By t
he way, did you set me up to kill my archnemesis?”
“Good point,” Simon added, laughing.
The bell signaled the end of lunch. Hugo and Simon rose and tossed their trash responsibly.
“I’ll figure out something,” Hugo concluded, unable to muster much enthusiasm. Of course not; I’m guilty. “See you after school.”
Simon lit up. “You got Ms. Plaza for English Lit.” He looked envious. “I’d love to roam through her Plaza.”
Hugo gave a disgusted laugh. Simon’s euphemisms were so welcome. “On that note…”
Shouldering his backpack, he fist-bumped Simon before the pair headed to their respective fifth periods.
When Hugo entered English Lit, Ms. Plaza motioned him over. Simon was right about the raven-haired teacher—petite, perky, and pretty. Plus, she made age-old English literature interesting. “The principal’s office wants to see you,” she stated with a sympathetic air. “About the awful thing that happened at Fall Fling. It may take a while, so I’ll email today’s homework.”
Hugo’s stomach twisted so painfully he could barely fake a smile. “Thanks, Ms. Plaza.”
The pain worsened as Hugo headed to the principal’s office in the main building. Worst-case scenarios raced through his brain. Confessing or getting caught lying. Being exposed as a superhuman. Getting perp-walked in front of the entire school. Lawsuits against Mom. Hugo's panic reached a crescendo.
Soon the nausea and pain became unbearable. Suddenly, Hugo was running at normal speed for the nearest bathroom. He stumbled into a stall, almost ripping a door off its hinges to barf out his lunch.
“You okay?” another student in the next-door stall asked.
Hugo ignored him, heaving until he’d emptied his stomach and the queasiness stopped. It took everything in him not to flee from school. The moment passed. After washing his mouth out, Hugo relaxed. “Let’s do it.”
Hugo entered the principal’s office and sat in the waiting room. It sported that sheen of authority which most Paso High offices lacked. He’d been here last year with Simon and their parents, when Baz’s bullying got really bad. Hugo listened to the student currently being interviewed.