Super Powereds: Year 3 (44 page)

“Understood.”

This time, there was no gentle increase or subtle beginning. It was like last year’s fight all over again. Thomas felt his energy flowing out of him, his precious power being ripped away, until every drop of it was gone and he collapsed on the floor, utterly indistinguishable from a human.

“Are you all right?” Vince asked.

“I’m alive,” Thomas replied, slowly dragging himself to his feet. The world felt different when he didn’t have his energy inside him. Colder, scarier, more dangerous. It was a feeling he didn’t like, but would have to get used to. “This isn’t a one-time thing, you know.”

“I know,” Vince assured him.

“Every day that we can swing it, I want to do this,” Thomas said. “Can you handle that much energy?”

Vince didn’t genuinely know the answer to that question. True, they’d yet to find his limit for how much he could hold, but it had to be out there. No one in the absorber category had an infinite capacity. Between the forest fire, his sizable amount of electricity, and the kinetic stockpile he’d started, he already had quite a bit. Thomas’s energy was abundant; draining him completely meant absorbing a whole lot of power. Still, Vince felt like he was responsible for the problem his friend was facing, so it was up to him to help fix it. He would drain as much power as Thomas needed. If he hit his limit, Vince would just find another way.

“I’ll be fine,” Vince assured him.

81.

“Okay, so far, confirmed, we have Thomas, Violet, Jill, Will, Camille, Adam, Alex, Angela, and Shane, while Sasha, Britney, and Amber are all maybes,” Alice surmised, running down the small list jotted on the yellow legal pad in her hand.

“Correct,” Chad affirmed. His perfect memory made keeping track of something as simple as an RSVP list mere child’s play. Mary sat next to him, thankful they’d managed to recruit him into joining Alice’s pre-party planning committee. These tasks had previously been lumped entirely on her, so it was a pleasant change to share the pain.

“So, counting all of us from Melbrook, and Mary’s three mystery guests she refuses to talk about,” —Alice shot a pointed look at her short, telepathic friend, who feigned sudden interest in the pages of a costume catalog she was being forced to look through— “I think that brings us to a confirmed seventeen, possible twenty.”

“I admit, my experience in social outings is greatly lacking compared to most students our age, however, that strikes me as a difficult size of party to manage in a bar setting, especially with my understanding of how sweeping the celebration of Halloween is,” Chad pointed out.

“He’s right, we’ve got only a few days left, even if we found a place that took reservations, we’d never get in,” Mary agreed, with perhaps a subtle ring of hope in her voice.

Alice pointed at Mary with a forceful thrust of her index finger. “You’re right that we’ve only got a few days, which is why you’re supposed to be picking a damn costume. I told you, no getting off the couch until you’ve selected something. I’ve gotten everyone else, even Chad and Vince, to get their stuff. You will not be the only person un-costumed on Halloween.”

“If we can even find a place,” Mary started again.

“I will book us a place,” Alice snapped, brushing a long strand of blonde hair out of her face. “We are going to meet Halloween head on this year, and that means being together. I don’t care if I have to book three VIP sections to do it, we’ll have a place to go.”

Mary let her last vestiges of resistance fade away. Though the loss of one of their own had been hard on all of them, Alice had taken Nick’s loss most to heart. It had manifested in some strange behavior, such as going on a date with Nicholas, but at least this reaction made sense. Alice was scared of losing another friend, with sound reason, so she was clutching at the chance to build a memory of everyone together. While Mary would have preferred to “meet” Halloween with a stay-in movie marathon, this clearly meant a lot to Alice, which indicated it should mean a lot to her best friend.

“What did Chad and Vince pick?” Mary asked, changing the subject with all the tact of a drunk in a liquor store. “Hershel won’t tell me about Roy’s costume, so if there’s a theme, I’d like a heads up.”

“I’m going to be a robot, apparently,” Chad chimed in. “I’m not certain what Vince is. He should be off work in a few hours, though, you can ask him then.”

“Wait, hang on, a robot?” Mary asked.

“I think so,” Chad said, giving a small shrug. “I asked Angela for advice, and she said she had the perfect costume for me. When I probed deeper, all she would say is that it was shiny and metallic, so I put the context clues adequately together. Shiny, metallic, and suited to me, a man who is aware that his emotions are less than prevalent, all combine to equal a robot.”

“Yeah, that does sort of make sense,” Mary agreed.

Alice bit her tongue and resisted the urge to point out that Chad had overlooked a key piece of information. Mainly that he was using logic to deduce the costume, and Angela didn’t operate on logic. She operated on . . . who the hell knew what, but it sure as shit wasn’t logic.

“Anyway, there is no theme,” Alice said, bringing the discussion back around to Mary. “So pick whatever you think looks good.”

“Uggggh. I wish I could just wear my work outfit,” Mary groaned. “It fits me well and is already done. Stupid rules about not wearing our uniforms in social settings.”

“It’s also considered bad form to wear Hero costumes when in the HCP,” Chad reminded her. “Although I’ve never understood why.”

“Originally, I heard it was to keep ourselves as disassociated from Heroes as possible, but as time goes on, I’ve begun to think it’s just one of those fashion rules that became law. Like not wearing white after Labor Day. Of course, that ignores how doable it is to break those laws and look good doing it, but I suppose that isn’t really the point,” Alice theorized. “Now, back to the catalog. Come on, you must have a few standouts.”

“I’m having a hard time finding a compromise between huge and cumbersome, or thin and revealing,” Mary admitted. “The Victorian outfits are gorgeous, but the idea of moving around in something like that all night seems like a massive pain. Then there’s the other end, the stuff I don’t know how these girls found the courage to wear for a paid modeling session, let alone out in public. Maybe I’ll just use my princess costume from last year again.”

“Negative,” Alice told her. “No repeats, that’s very counter to the spirit of Halloween.” She reached over and plucked the catalog from Mary’s dainty hands. “Look, I know what you want, and this doesn’t seem to be making us much headway, so are you willing to just trust me?”

“Trust you how?”

“Trust me to pick out your costume for you,” Alice explained. “I’ve got your measurements, I can make the choice and place the order. Come on, Chad let someone else pick out his costume.”

“Chad is dating the person he trusted with that responsibility,” Mary reminded her.

“Would you rather I let Hershel choose? I bet he’s got a few outfits he would love to see you in,” Alice said.

Mary’s cheeks grew momentarily red, and she gave her head a firm shake. “No, no, definitely no. Fine, you can pick. But I reserve the right to veto what you pick if it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’ll agree to that deal only if you try it on before rejecting it,” Alice countered.

“Try it on privately,” Mary said. “Just you and I. No witnesses, no pictures.”

“I can work with that,” Alice said. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Mary agreed.

“It occurs to me,” Chad said, reminding both girls that he was in the common room with them, a fact that had temporarily slipped their minds, “after watching your display, that perhaps I should have put some rules into place with Angela, rather than giving her free rein over my costume selection.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Alice assured him. “How bad can a robot costume be?”

82.

The bar was full for a late-October weekday, but not so packed that empty seats were unobtainable. Some were unoccupied only for a moment, while others seemed to have a cloud of danger wafting over them, driving away all but the most determined of souls. One such table held the strongest of these auras. Though it was, ostensibly, designed to accommodate four people, only one woman was currently seated there. She sipped slowly on a glass of white wine as she flipped idly through the pages in her book. Whether she had come here alone and intended to stay that way, or was merely waiting for her chosen company to arrive, every aspect of her demeanor sent the message that strangers should save the offers of free drinks for more accommodating women. It was a shame, too, because she was easily one of the most beautiful beings in the bar. With her delicate yet sharp features, short blonde hair, and toned body, she would have been approached countless times if not for her mastery in signaling people to stay away.

One man, after walking into the bar with another, better dressed man at his side, disregarded those signals. Instead, he bounded over to her table, tall legs carrying him quickly through the bar, and grabbed her from behind, lifting her up in an enthusiastic hug.

“Gah!” she yelped, dropping her book and forming a fist, clearly ready to inflict some damage. She jerked around in the arms holding her and got a good look at her assailant. Then, for the first time all night, her face softened and a genuine smile rested on her lips.

“Miss me?” Sean Pendleton asked, looking into the eyes of his former classmate and long-ago crush.

“Sean?” Her voice was incredulous, stained with uncertainty and disbelief. “You’re . . . you’re really out? You didn’t . . .”

“No, he didn’t,” Blaine said, finally making his way over from the door. “He’s working with me these days.”

At Blaine’s appearance, Sean set the woman down, allowing her to walk over to the dean of Lander’s HCP and enveloping him in a hug of her own.

“It’s been too long, Clarissa,” Blaine said, giving the woman a firm embrace. She was quite tall, only a few inches below his considerable height, which had never helped diminish her slightly intimidating nature.

“That it has,” she agreed, finally letting go. “I have to say, I was surprised when you contacted me. Our class isn’t great about keeping in touch.” She made no mention of how hard she'd worked to stay off the grid. There was no need to tell Blaine what he already knew.

“At least in my case, I’ve got an excuse for not calling,” Sean pointed out.

Clarissa let out a short, uncomfortable laugh. “I guess so. Speaking of, what’s the deal with this? You couldn’t tell me Sean was out, or that he was coming along?”

“I could have,” Blaine said. “But Sean thought it would be more fun to surprise you in person.”

“And how right I was,” Sean added.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But, I mean, how are you out? It’s still years too early.”

“Work-release,” Sean replied. “Did you hear about what happened in Blaine’s staff two years ago?”

“Only a few rumors here and there,” Clarissa said. “I’m not very connected since I retired.”

“Let’s leave the whole story for more private places of discussion,” Blaine said. “Suffice it to say, I needed to do some rapid re-staffing, and, despite his later career choices, Sean definitely has a considerable resume.”

Clarissa nodded her understanding. Being from The Class of Legends was pretty much an open door to any Super or Hero-related job one could want, and she should know. It was one of the reasons she'd originally made herself as absent as possible from the Hero world.

“So, was this why you wanted to meet? Because, I have to tell you, this is a surprise worth braving the bar scene for,” Clarissa declared, giving her old friends another smile. It truly had been too long since she saw them. At least with Sean, there was an excuse. With Blaine and the rest of her class, it had mostly been too painful. Seeing them just reminded her of . . . what she’d lost.

“Partially, yes,” Blaine said. “A night out with an old friend was definitely worth the trip. However, I have to admit something up front; I also came here for selfish reasons.”

“You’re a dean now, I’d be a fool if I showed up expecting anything less,” Clarissa said, laughing a bit.

“Glad you understand the situation,” Blaine replied. “You see, I’m setting up the junior year guest speakers, and one of the ones I had lined up dropped out due to a conflict. With short notice, it would be hard to get someone as good, so I was thinking that perhaps an old friend could fill in?”

“Blaine, I don’t know. I left that world a long time ago. I’m not sure what I’d have to talk to them about.”

“That’s why he wants you,” Sean interjected. “This is the speaker who talks about what life is like after. To show them that you do go on living once the career is done. You seem to be doing great, and with your pedigree, it would mean a lot to some of the kids to hear from you.”

“I suppose so.” Clarissa sighed in defeat. She knew she’d have to cave eventually; this was part of the Hero life, even after one was out of it. Better to get it out of the way and enjoy the rest of her night with old friends. “Fine, I’ll go help out, but only if you get the first three rounds.”