by H. L. Burke
“I’m sorry, Fade. I shouldn’t have continued to investigate Brink. If I hadn’t—” She started to weep again.
“Lucia, no.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “Even I thought the trip to visit Jackson was safe. I wish I’d gone with you. Maybe I could’ve—”
“No. I refuse to blame you for this.” She shook her head.
“Then don’t blame yourself.” He fought with his own guilt and fear. He needed to have hope, if only for her. “Maybe it ... we don’t know that it won’t be all right.”
The door opened, and a doctor strode in. He cast the pair a weary smile.
Hope kindled in Fade’s chest only for his sense of doom to immediately devour it.
“Our baby?” Lucia whimpered.
“She’s going to be all right.”
The doctor’s words washed over Fade, and his shoulders slumped in relief.
“We were about to put her on the ventilator when she started breathing on her own. We kept her under observation until we were sure it wasn’t a fluke, but you sable types—I wish all my patients could bounce back the way you do.” The doctor chuckled. “Are you ready to see her?”
“Yes,” Prism said, her bottom lip shaking.
A nurse wheeled in a bassinet, and Fade’s heart stopped bleeding. He staggered to his feet for a better view.
Sparse black waves of hair stuck out beneath a hospital issue stocking cap. Her puckered face was mostly red, but with an undertone that made him suspect she was several shades lighter than himself, but not as pale as her mother. The nurse eased the infant into her mother’s arms.
“She’s so tiny,” Prism whispered. “I don’t think any of the newborn clothes we have will fit her.”
“They grow fast,” the nurse promised. “This one just came a little early.”
A fat tear rolled down Prism’s cheek. “She’s ... she’s perfect.”
Fade knelt beside the bed and ran his fingertip lightly over the baby’s cheek. She opened her mouth in a tiny yawn.
“We’ll let you get to know her,” the doctor volunteered before he and the nurse stepped out.
Lucia’s eyes never left the baby. “We still haven’t named her.” She kissed the baby’s forehead. “With everything going on—not Aiden. Maybe someday that will feel right again, but it doesn’t now.” Sadness crept into her words.
Fade squeezed her knee through the blankets. “We don’t have to decide right now.”
“I kind of thought I’d know when I saw her, and I ... sort of do.” She glanced at Fade out of the corner of one eye. “She’s so perfect and priceless, I feel like we should call her something like Treasure or even just Precious.”
He coughed. “You name her Precious, and everyone at her school will say it in a Gollum voice. Do you want her to get beat up all the time?”
“Well, depending on what superpowers she inherits, that might not be an issue.” Prism laughed then blanched. “Ouch ... c-section stitches don’t want me to forget they exist.”
“Want me to hold her?” He reached for the baby. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”
Lucia drew back in an exaggerated fashion before allowing him to take their daughter. “How noble of you.”
Fade’s insides melted as the child rested against his chest. So crazy light. Yui had to weigh more. He patted the infant’s back as she settled against him. “She is precious, though. Maybe a compromise, like a gemstone name. Gemma? Emma for Emerald. Pearl. Ruby.”
“Oh, that’s her!” A smile blossoming across Prism’s face. “She’s Ruby. Ruby Giovanna Powell.”
He cringed. “Giovanna?”
“It was my grandma’s name and my mother’s middle name.” Lucia frowned. “I thought about going with Aiden for the middle name, but that means her initials would spell RAP, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or if it would just look weird on luggage.”
Mischief sparked within Fade. “I don’t think it matters. No one uses middle names anymore. I don’t even know yours—”
“How do you not know my middle name?” Her voice went up a pitch.
“Shh! You’ll wake the baby!” he said with exaggerated consternation. “Lucia Maria Powell, you should know better than to shout around babies.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You better pray that baby takes after me and not you or else we’re going to be raising a hellion.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her smile faded. “Do you think ... After what happened, I can’t risk going after Brink any more, can I? Even when I stick to non-dangerous aspects of this investigation, it comes back to bite me.” She clutched at her blankets. “It almost cost us Ruby. How can I justify continuing?”
Fade brushed his thumb across his daughter’s forehead, savoring the softness of her hair. For a moment, Earwig’s face returned to his mind, but he pushed it away.
How much time did I buy us? Brink is going to notice if Earwig doesn’t try again soon, especially now when Prism is vulnerable. We need to be prepared.
He looked up at his wife. “No. We don’t give up. Brink has already come after you once, and you giving up the case won’t stop him. The only way our family is going to be safe is if we fight through this to the other side.” He shifted Ruby to one shoulder so that he could reach for Lucia’s hand. “What that means for Aiden, I don’t know. If there’s anything left of him to save, we’ll save him, but even if not, Brink needs to pay for what he’s done to our family.”
Chapter Eighteen
Chamberlain leaned forward in his office chair, glaring at the reports as if he could alter them with pure rage and frustration.
Powell had survived. Even her baby would apparently make a full recovery, so he couldn’t count on grief sidelining her ... not that that had ever worked with her. She’d used the death of her father to guilt trip her way into a DOSA team leader position, then bounced back from the loss of her brother to defeat Cosmic and embarrass the committee. Opportunistic, entitled little sable brat.
Even worse, Earwig had gone no contact since the attack. Transferred his advance into an offshore account, and poof! Gone.
So much for honor among thieves. As much as Chamberlain wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was just lying low until another opportunity arrived, it didn’t seem likely. No assassin worth his paycheck would miss the chance to strike when their target was drugged up and recovering from surgery. The period of time in which any sable would be down from any sort of injury was brief. Chances were, Powell would be back on her feet and in fighting condition within a matter of days.
Grunting, Chamberlain tapped the mouse to minimize the reports. Well, there were other guns for hire out there. If he didn’t hear back from Earwig soon, he’d start combing the darkweb for potential killers.
The desk beside his leg buzzed, and he jerked, banging his knee into the drawer.
Cursing, he pressed the hidden fingerprint scanner beneath the desk. A panel popped out, revealing a cell phone alight with an incoming call. After double checking to be sure his office door was securely closed, he took up the phone and answered it.
“What is it now?”
“I see you handled the Powell problem with your typical level of competency,” a dry, snooty voice hummed through the phone.
“I told you not to call me when I’m in the office unless it’s a true emergency,” Chamberlain snarled.
“If we don’t have Powell eliminated as a factor by the time Plan B goes into action, it will be an emergency. Her brother is getting increasingly difficult to control. His psychic energy keeps spiking. He’s trying to communicate, and from what I can tell the only one he has a reliable connection with is her. Either we take her down, or I call off the second attempt. I will not risk a repeat of Plan A.”
Chamberlain gritted his teeth. He’d waited so long for this, to finally have a chance to get DOSA fully under his control so he could mold it to his vision. How was one, flashy-powered ideologue causing him
so much grief?
“I told you, I’d handle it. Earwig was a disappointment, but he’s hardly the only hitman—”
“No. I won’t risk you bungling this again. I had a feeling you would fail, so I’ve already begun transporting my team to the west coast. I want you there too. Make some excuse. Say you’re going to pay your respects or bring her some diapers. I don’t care, but be there, and be ready. I’ll email you the plans so there’s no chance of you forgetting something.”
Chamberlain’s grasp on the phone tightened. The screen cracked. “You forget, I’m the head of this operation, not you.”
“Sometimes the head needs help pulling itself out of its own rear end.” Brink scoffed. “I’ll see you in California, boss.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fade’s head dropped forward onto his chest, and he jerked back awake. Moaning, he stood from the chair that was far too small for his 6’4’’ frame and rubbed his lower back. Prism opened one eye. They’d both been up most of the night, adjusting to Ruby’s feeding schedule. Fade had stationed himself in Lucia’s room while the rest of the team took turns patrolling the hospital grounds. Normally the hospital didn’t allow visitors to spend the night, but with the potential threat of supervillain attack, the staff had made an exception for Prism’s team.
“You can go home and sleep in our bed, if you want,” she murmured. “I really don’t mind.”
“I’ll be fine.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Just before nine.
In the bedside bassinet, Ruby made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a grunt and twitched in her sleep. Fade rested his hand on the baby’s stomach, allowing his energy to trickle into her. The baby immediately settled.
A faint smile crossed Lucia’s lips. “I can’t wait until we can take her home.”
“Me either.” He paced to the window. Their room had an unimpressive view of the parking garage, now awash in the misty gray light of a San Diego morning.
The mattress squeaked, and Prism whimpered. Fade turned to face her.
His jaw dropped. “Hey, cut it out.”
Prism paused, sitting on the edge of her bed, both feet dangling just above the ground.
“It’s been two days, and I feel a lot better,” she said.
“Your stomach is being held together by thread,” he pointed out.
“Hardly. I’ve recovered from wounds before.” She placed her hand on her still swollen abdomen. “I know when I’m healed enough to handle a walk across the room, and I’m sick of using a bedpan.”
Fade bit back a retort. “All right, but let me help you.” He hurried to her side and placed his arm around her rib cage. A smirk crept across his face. “Good practice for when you’re old and infirm.”
“You do remember that you’re older than me, right?” She clicked her tongue.
He brought her to the bathroom and stood outside the door.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’d kill for a glass of red wine and any sort of carb and cheese combo. Pizza. Mac n’ cheese. Eggplant parm.”
“I’m sure Tanvi would be willing to get us some take out.” He placed his hands behind his head and turned slowly to work the kinks out of his spine. At this rate, old and infirm might come sooner than anticipated.
Ruby started to squawk.
“Dang it!” Prism said through the bathroom door. “Of course she wakes up the moment I get in here.”
“I got her.” Fade rushed to pick up the baby.
Ruby calmed momentarily then began to root around his shoulder, smacking her little lips and growing increasingly frustrated and furious.
“Uh, I think she wants something I can’t give her.” Fade grimaced.
“I’m hurrying.”
Prism hobbled back to bed and accepted Ruby into her arms. Fade returned to looking out the window.
“Ugh,” Prism said a moment later. “I need to talk to the lactation specialist again. She keeps losing her latch and getting sprayed in the face. Daw, it makes her blink so pathetically—”
Fade closed his eyes.
Remember what the books said. This is completely natural and a beautiful bonding experience. It’s not ... no, it’s weird. It’s so weird.
Someone rapped at the door.
“Fade, can you hand me that blanket?” Prism asked.
Still averting his eyes in a way he hoped wasn’t too obvious, he passed her the requested covering then went to open the door.
A nurse stood in an unnaturally rigid way. He cleared his throat. “You have a guest.”
Fade glanced behind the nurse, and his eyebrows shot up.
Stepping around the nurse, the Adjudicator shifted from foot to foot. He carried a bouquet of flowers and a massive pink teddy bear that contrasted ridiculously with his black body armor, cowl, and mask.
“You? Seriously?” Fade asked, not in the mood to play nice.
“I’ve come to pay my respects.” The Adjudicator glowered.
“She’s not dead, no thanks to anyone in DOSA.” Fade crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know what I mean.” The Adjudicator launched into an obviously rehearsed speech. “The advent of new life and the welcoming of a new member to the sable community should be a cause for celebration among all DOSA employees, no matter their past differences.”
“Sure.” Fade looked over his shoulder. “Luce, do you want to see the Adjudicator?”
“I guess it’s fine,” Prism replied hesitantly.
“Okay, but watch yourself.” Fade stepped out of the Adjudicator’s way. “I got no sleep last night, and my temper is on a hair trigger.”
The Adjudicator entered, his eyes darting about the room. “Where’s the new arrival?”
“She’s eating,” Prism nodded her head towards the blanket covered bulge in her arms.
The Adjudicator’s exposed face reddened. “Oh.”
“Sit down if you’d like.” Fade took the gifts from the Adjudicator and placed them on the table. He then pushed the chair he had been sitting in a comfortable distance away from Prism’s bedside before standing next to her.
The Adjudicator settled into his seat, and an awkward silence simultaneously fell over the room.
After a bit, he spoke. “I’m glad you are doing well. According to the reports I heard, it was touch and go for a while there.”
“It was scary, but we made it through,” Prism answered. “Any news about Earwig? Either where he is now or who was paying him?”
Fade’s gaze immediately darted away from the Adjudicator.
“No for both,” the Adjudicator replied. “It’s possible he was working alone. After all, it’s not unusual for an assassin to take a shot at a high profile sable to prove what they’re capable of.”
Fade gave an exaggerated laugh. “No, Earwig has been in the business for too long to need to prove anything. He doesn’t work for free, and if you’re sold on that theory, I have a bridge to sell you.”
The Adjudicator leaned back in his chair, huffing. “It’s just a theory. We can’t afford to dismiss any possibility at this point.”
“I feel pretty confident dismissing that one.”
Especially since Earwig flat out told me he was hired by some unknown guy. Can’t explain how I know that, though. Fade stood a little straighter.
“She’s done. Can you hand me a burp rag?” Prism tilted her head towards a collection of pastel colored cloths neatly folded in a basket on the bedside table. Fade handed her one which she draped across her shoulder before resting Ruby on top of it and patting her back.
“You’ll tell us right away if you find out anything about Earwig or his employer, right?” she then said. “It’s not a matter of curiosity. Keeping us in the dark could put us in danger from another attack.”
“Of course, you’ll be kept up to date.” The Adjudicator shifted and pulled back his sleeve, revealing a smart watch. He covered the watch again, then sat, looking at the little family
before him as if they were the most boring thing in the world.
Prism peered hopefully at the door. “Well, it was nice of you to drop by, but I’m sure you’re busy.”
“I cleared today for this trip,” the Adjudicator said quickly.
“How accommodating of you.” Prism kept her tone level, but an edge of displeasure still crept in.
An almost panicked expression spread across the Adjudicator’s face. His eyes darted about the room then he leaned forward. “I can’t leave without holding the baby.”
Fade and Prism exchanged a look.
“All right, but your uniform looks—not very soft.” Prism reached for a receiving blanket. “Place this over your shoulder first.”
“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” the Adjudicator grumbled.
Fade snatched up the blanket and threw it in the Adjudicator’s face. “Do you want to hold the baby or not?”
To Fade’s disappointment, the Adjudicator obeyed, taking away the excuse Fade was looking for to refuse him his request. Prism handed Fade the baby. Reluctantly, Fade passed Ruby off to the Adjudicator.
What am I worried about? Even a grade A Jackass like him wouldn’t hurt a baby.
The Adjudicator cradled Ruby as if she were a water balloon that might explode at any moment, gingerly but also as if he’d rather fling her away than keep a hold of her. Fade’s jaw muscles tightened to a painful degree.
The lights flickered overhead.
“What’s that?” Prism frowned.
The floor heaved beneath Fade, and he rocked into Prism’s bed.
She clutched at his arm. “Is it an earthquake?”
“I’m not sure.” He braced himself as the shaking subsided.
The Adjudicator tensed.
Fade’s phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered it. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Fade, get down here!” Tanvi’s frantic voice shouted through the line. “The hospital is under attack. I think it’s Brink!”
Chapter Twenty
Fade recoiled.