Shades of Gray (20 page)

Lester shuddered. “Suddenly, taking on Mildew and his Rotting Crew doesn’t seem so bad …”

Valerie sighed. “You’re terrible.”

Lester checked himself in the mirror, his eye mask the only dark spot on his snowy costume. “Damn, I am a handsome devil.” He came and kissed Valerie on the forehead and started for the door.

“Your earpiece!” She held it out.

“Not likely. I hate that bloody thing.”

“Les.” Valerie sat up, with a little effort. Her stomach made it awkward for her to move, even with her superstrength. “You know what Corp said after last time. Wear it, or you’re on suspension.”

“One, I can’t think with that thing in my head and two, I’d like to see them try.” He grinned at her. “I’m the Hero of New Chicago, luv. I make the rules, not them.”

“Les …” But he was out the door. “Be safe,” Valerie finished, to no one but herself.

CHAPTER 23

ANGELICA

All Mentalists continue to resist comlink control. Results discouraging. May have to decommission the entire Mental power.

—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #109

Y
ou look so gorgeous,” Holly Greene said wistfully, gazing at Valerie’s swollen belly. Every day she visited, Valerie got bigger and more beautiful, almost glowing with her pregnancy.

Her friend chortled, nearly spilling her water. “You mean for a bloated cow of an extrahuman, right? Thanks, Hols. Honestly, I can’t wait for the baby to decide to get out of my nice warm womb and into the cold cruel world with the rest of us. Christo, to have a solid night when I don’t have to get up to pee …”

“But won’t you have to get up to feed the baby?”

“Don’t make me kill you. I’d feel guilty for minutes afterward.”

Holly smiled and sipped her ginger ale.

“Three weeks to go. Thank Jehovah. So,” Valerie said, settling back into her recliner and setting her glass on her belly, “tell me how you and the others put away the Torrent Brothers.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Come on, I know Les told you all about this.”

With a Vixen-appropriate purr in her throat, Valerie said, “A man’s version leaves something to be desired.”

“It really wasn’t that big a deal …”

“Come on, I’m bored out of my skull being stuck on bed rest. If I watch any more daytime soaps, I’ll go rabid and destroy all the furniture. Let me live vicariously. Tell me about the fight.”

So Holly told her all about the collar, emphasizing Les’s role for Valerie’s benefit. In truth, Luster had called the shots, but it had been Blackout and Night doing all the heavy lifting.

As for her part, Angelica had been on the sidelines, trying not to throw up. Remembering her own weakness, Holly bit back a disgruntled snort. She knew that lots of the Squadron would have sympathized with her moment of nausea—fighting extrahumans whose internals were decidedly on the external side of things made even the staunchest hero queasy. And using their own intestines for ropes? Utterly pukeworthy. So she didn’t tell Valerie about how she’d been sequestered behind a Dumpster, fervently praying that the contents of her stomach behaved.

And she hoped to Jehovah above that Les had opted for discretion when he’d told Valerie about the day’s events, let alone when he’d made his official report to Corp and the PR spinners. The last thing Holly needed was for rumors to fly about how Angelica had tossed her cookies after one look at the inside-out Torrent Brothers.

“You guys,” Valerie said with a sigh. “So lucky, getting to get out there and beat the snot out of supervillains. Me, I’m just getting fatter.”

“You’re not fat. You’re pregnant.”

“You’re not allowed to say anything about my not being fat, Miss Size Two.” Valerie shifted her weight. “I have about another minute before my twenty-fifth bathroom break. How’s all with you and George? Still experiencing newlywed bliss?”

Holly laughed. “Whenever we have a moment alone, sure. Our schedules have been insane lately. I think the last time I saw George out of costume was a month ago.” Actually, it was five weeks ago—thirty-seven days, if you wanted to get technical. Holly knew. She’d gone back and counted.

“But it’s all good?”

“Yeah.” Holly smiled, thinking of George’s hands, of his serious eyes and sensual mouth. “He’s charming and funny and loving and just wonderful.”

“Good,” Valerie said, toying with her glass. “I’m glad the two of you work so well. I’ve heard … well, you know, Runners talk. One of your Jamies mentioned in passing to my Reggie that Blackout had another … you know.” She made a vague circling motion with her hand. “A thing.”

“If you mean that George lost his temper,” Holly said primly, “yes, that happened. But so what? He’s only extrahuman. He’s allowed to get mad.”

“In front of a reporter?” Valerie asked, arching an eyebrow. “Hols, you know that the press eats that shit up. And the way Reggie said it, it was less getting mad and more of Blackout seething in rage. He threatened to make the reporter afraid of the Dark.”

“The reporter had gotten too personal,” Holly said. “Wanted to know about our sex life. George isn’t the sort of Squadron hero to tell such intimate things to the reporters.” A not-so-subtle dig, that. The sex tape of Luster and Vixen had made the digital rounds and back again. Both Valerie and Lester had laughed about it, with Les going so far as to track his favorability ratings for the month after the scandal hit the vids. Of course, his ratings had soared through the roof, and he’d been nominated as Sexiest Hero of the Year. Valerie had gotten a cover story on
Extrahuman Weekly.
Holly wondered which of the two of them had leaked the tape. Probably both.

“You don’t want to go threatening the media, Hols. Bad press is more dangerous than the most powerful rabid.”

“Look, it was one time,” Holly said, exasperated. “George is a quiet man. He doesn’t get angry.” Often. Sure, he had his moments when a black fury would possess him, and he’d rant and say horrific things. And do some horrible things. But the moods would pass, then he was sweet, funny, loving George again. As long as Holly was there to temper him with her Light power during those moments, everything would continue to be just fine. Her power soothed his savage beast.

The thought made her smile. Her man loved her so much that she could quiet his rages, hold him as he walked in the Dark. She knew about his fear of the Shadow—there was little about George Greene that she didn’t know—and as long as she could help him, they both agreed there was no reason for them to report his outbursts to Dr. Moore or any of his staff of Therapists—men and women hand-trained by Moore to work with Mental powers and … troubled … extrahumans.

Neither of them wanted that.

“Hey,” Valerie said, “I didn’t mean to get you upset.”

“I’m not. It’s just sometimes, it’s like people expect the worst from George, just because he’s a Shadow power.” Holly sighed. “He’s a good man, Val. I wish more people remembered that when they saw him.”

“People have a healthy fear of the Dark. It’s normal. Well,” she said cheerfully, “off to my favorite room in the suite.”

“I should go. I’ve got to be at the Academy by four.”

“Teaching?”

“No. Visiting Hal.” Her voice grew sad. “Dr. Moore says he does much better after I see him.”

“That’s just terrible,” Valerie said, shaking her head. “Even when the other Mental powers started slipping, I thought Hal would stay strong.”

Started slipping.
That was Valerie’s diplomatic way of saying
Losing their minds.
Right after Corp had given out the Ops comlinks, the three Mental powers in the New Chicago Squadron—and, rumor had it, all twenty Mental powers Americas-wide—had to be permanently restrained. And that was a diplomatic way of saying
Pumped full of drugs.

Dr. Moore had quickly assured the Squadron and Corp that it was a power feedback specific to those with Mental abilities. The doctor was confident that they’d isolate the source of the feedback soon, then the Mental powers would be back on active duty.

No one blamed Dr. Moore for the Mental powers, perhaps appropriately, going mental.

Sometimes, Holly would wonder about that. And sometimes, she’d think about how Blackout, too, had grown unpredictable since he started wearing the earpiece. But then she’d think about something else, and the notion that Dr. Moore’s comlinks had caused the Mental powers’ or Blackout’s instability would scatter like raindrops.

Holly looked down at her hands, telling herself that at least Hal wasn’t as bad as the others. He hadn’t tried to kill himself, or to kill others. That counted. Hal was by far the best off. And Holly still thought there was hope for him. Every time she pushed Light into him when she visited him in his cell, he seemed to come back to himself. “Hal
is
strong,” she said. “And I’m sure he’ll bounce back.”

“Me too.” Valerie hoisted herself out of the chair and walked heavily to the bathroom. “Ugh, my bladder. Be glad this isn’t you, Hols.”

Holly smiled, touching her own flat belly. Way, way too soon for her to feel anything, let alone show. Barely five weeks. She and George had both agreed that they should wait until they heard the heartbeat before sharing their news with Valerie and the others.

She just knew that once George was a father, he’d have a constant anchor to help him stand fast against the Shadow. Between Angelica and the baby, Blackout would never again lose himself in the dark. And then, finally, his rages would stop.

Yes, what she couldn’t do alone, she and the baby would do together.

And then everything would be perfect.

CHAPTER 24

NIGHT

Unexpected result of comlink: Traits have become amplified. The Lighters have, as a class, become more arrogant. The Earthers have become more stubborn. The Shadows—is it possible for the Shadows to have grown darker?

—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #77

N
ight didn’t choke the life out of Angelica, though he dearly wanted to. Instead, he stood impassively as she put the ridiculous paper hat on his head.

“Pink’s your color.” She chuckled, tucking the elastic under his chin.

“The things I do for Team Alpha,” he muttered, which made her chuckle all the harder.

“You’re having a good time and you know it. And just think of this as practice for when it’s mine and George’s turn.” She pecked him on the cheek, then blew a kiss to Blackout. A radiant smile on her face, Angelica glided over to a group of other guests, whom she accosted with tiny pink hats. None would escape.

“Just breathe,” Blackout intoned, either to Night or to himself. Like Night, he was wearing a Little Girl Pink paper hat. “It’ll be over soon, then they’ll all leave.”

“You’re being extraordinarily positive,” Night said dryly. “I think we’ll be stuck here until the better part of next week.”

With the crush of people in the rented hall with them at the New Chicago Museum of Art, he probably wasn’t exaggerating. The Runners had done a spectacular job planning Vixen’s baby shower, making sure all heroes not currently on engagements were in attendance, as well as key members of the government—all standing around, hobnobbing and gossiping, acting like idiots. And with so many civilian celebrities, you’d think it was an awards ceremony. Even Corp made an appearance—three female suits, all wearing identical smiles and sporting identical haircuts (complete with the pink paper hats), all parroting the corporate party line and letting Vixen and Luster know how pleased Corp-Co was that a new generation of Bradfords would soon be joining the Squadron.

Night wanted to vomit all over their identical expensive shoes.

The whole thing was ludicrous. Vixen and Luster, having a baby. And now Blackout and Angelica, doing the same. The world had gone mad when he hadn’t been looking. They didn’t have the time, the luxury, to have babies. Heroes, raising children? Were they going to be changing nappies instead of fighting crime? Cleaning up spit-up instead of the streets of New Chicago?

It made him want to scream.
Babies,
for Jehovah’s sake. He smiled blandly as a reporter made an inane comment about superhero true love. Silently, Night raged. It no longer mattered that Luster was the official Hero of New Chicago. No, now Luster was the official Expecting Daddy of New Chicago.

And Luster clearly loved it.

Obviously, Night was the only one of Team Alpha who still gave a rat’s ass about actually heroing. Hadn’t he been going above and beyond, not only following procedure down to the letter but also pulling extra patrol shifts, to make up for Vixen’s bed rest and Angelica’s morning sickness? Yes—because Night didn’t just care. Night was a
hero
. It was in his blood, his bones, his thoughts. Duty first, they’d been taught at the Academy, and over this past year, Night had made that his personal mantra. Duty first. Always.

Night lifted his chin proudly. Even with all his voluntary extra patrols, he hadn’t overlooked his Corp requirements. In fact, he’d been extremely accessible to the New Chicago Metro and Transit Authority, standing for photo op after photo op, all to get his serious face plastered on the sides of all city buses, hovers, and trains, just like his corporate sponsor had insisted. It didn’t matter that he was barely catching five hours of sleep every other night.

He was the picture-perfect superhero.

And yet, here Night stood in a rented room at a museum, wearing a ridiculous pink paper hat, forced to pretend he wanted to be here, celebrating and wasting time.

Smile for the cameras; there’s a good extrahuman.

It was so … fucking … humiliating. Him in his stupid pink paper cap, standing near the table with the buttercream cake and thermoses of coffee. Colorful streamers and balloons littered the walls, as did an obscenely large banner declaring that GLAMIQUE CELEBRATES VIXEN’S BABY!!! Complete with three exclamation points, to show they were really
really
celebrating, even though they sponsored Vixen’s partner and not the lady herself.