Super Powereds: Year 3 (81 page)

                “You two go run your bags upstairs. We’ll be having lunch soon, and I expect you both to have brought serious appetites.”

                Vince and Hershel immediately obliged, walking up the stairs with baggage in hand. Only after she was sure they were gone did Sally turn to Mr. Transport, who was waiting with polite patience.

                “Are you ready for this?”

                “I am if you are,” Mr. Transport said.

                “I believe we’ve reached the point where not telling is actively lying. It’s been nearly a year, and we haven’t grown tired of one another yet.”

                “Quite the opposite, really,” Mr. Transport agreed.

                “Exactly. So, even though it’s just dating, I think it’s time Hershel and Roy knew. We’ll tell them over lunch.”

                “How do you think they’ll handle it?”

                “Hard to say,” Sally replied, looking back up the stairs. “When their father left, it sowed a lot of anger in both of them. Much as they dislike him, I think they worry about me even more. My guess is that they’ll be happy, so long as you make me happy, but don’t be surprised if Roy threatens to break your skull if you hurt me.”

                “You know, I’ve seen how strong Roy is getting. That’s actually a bit of a scary prospect these days.”

                “Well then, I suppose you’d best endeavor not to hurt me.” Sally slipped over to her suitor and placed a brief kiss on his lips.

                “It’s the last thing I intend to do.”

                “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know that,” she said. Then she moved away from him as sounds from upstairs echoed downward. Today was the day to tell the truth, but in a proper way. A way that involved mashed potatoes, corn, and roast turkey.

                “Into the dining room, you two,” Sally Daniels yelled up the stairs. “And set a fourth place as well. I’ve convinced Mr. Transport to join us for lunch.”

*              *              *

                “I miss you all. I know I open with that every time I come here, but it’s always true. I miss our stupid car trips and our fights and just having you around. If I was in this program for real, I think you’d be proud of me. If I were really going to be a Hero, I wonder what you’d all say. Probably nice things, except for you, Teri. I’m sure you’d constantly be messing with me under the guise of keeping me from getting a big head. God, I wish you were here to tease me. What’s a little brother without his big sister?”

                The man speaking wore a black hooded-jacket that ran down all the way to his calves. This left only a bit of his gray pants and boots visible on the snow-frosted ground. They were unremarkable, unless one happened to be a student in Hero Certification Program, in which case, they were instantly recognizable.

                “I know it’s been a long time. Eleven years too long, in fact, but I’m making progress. I just need a little longer; a little more time, and I’ll be able to keep my promise.”

                A gust of wind blew by, stirring the top coating of snow resting atop the marble headstones. There were three of them, two large and one small. Each certainly bore a name and an inscription, but such details were obscured by the white powder coating every surface, save for the man speaking. He hadn’t bothered wiping them off. He didn’t need to read the names to know who he was talking to.

                “Just a little bit longer, and I’ll be able to kill him. Maybe another year, at most. It’s a weird route to get there, I’ll freely admit that, but I will do it. Please, believe in me. I’ll keep my promise.”

                A sharp popping sound echoed through the quiet graveyard, and the smell of burning ozone filled the air. Moments later, a new voice spoke, this one distinctly feminine.

                “Whenever you’re ready, we’re waiting for you.”

                “Thanks, Shims. Or maybe you prefer Clarissa?” The man turned away from the headstones and walked toward her. As he drew close, another gust of wind took his hood and pulled it back, revealing the tanned, strong-jawed face of Thomas Castillo. It also served to pull his jacket open a bit, revealing the full HCP uniform underneath it.

                The woman scowled at the sight. “You shouldn’t be wearing that.”

                “It’s what I had on hand. Besides, I can’t very well come to a place like this in my normal look. I’ll change before the big meeting, okay?”

                “I suppose it will have to be all right. And keep calling me Shims, please. Who we are here is different than who we are with the outside world.” Shims pointed her hand to a large, yellow sphere floating a few feet off the ground. Stepping through it would lead to another identical sphere connected at the meeting location. Most teleporters could only hop about in space, but Shimmerpath was different: she could create tunnels through it.

                “Hey, who understands that better than me? Are we doing Christmas dinner again this year?”

                “Of course,” Shims said, a slight glow lighting up her face. “You know how Globe gets around the holidays.”

                The duo stepped through the orb and vanished, the orb itself dematerializing moments later. Though it was gone, the smell of burning ozone still lingered in the graveyard for an hour more, until the wind picked up in earnest, and a new coating of snow arrived to douse the land.

151.

               Ms. Pips was not happy with the young man sitting across the desk from her. Physically, he was still the same as he had been at their last meeting; same deliberate posture, same neutral expression, same gesture-less way he rested his hands in his lap. It was his eyes that spoke of change. Last time, they had been confused, deliberate, and hungry. Ms. Pips liked those emotions; they played well into what she could manipulate, and what she needed to see from the young man. This time, however, it was a very different set of eyes she was staring into.

                These eyes were full of guile and determination, which were fine in the right proportions, but there was third element in there, one that set Ms. Pips on edge. Nicholas’s eyes had just a touch of smirking laughter, the sort that had been creeping in before his expulsion. She didn’t like that, both for what it said about the mind she might be dealing with, and because even she shuddered to think about the sorts of things that could make a man like Nicholas Campbell truly laugh. Her only consolation was that, if there was a heaven, Ms. Pips would never have to see her sister’s judgmental face over what had been done, what had 
needed
 to be done, to her son. No, if there was a heaven, then Ms. Pips would never see it. Her soul was far too heavy with blood to ever claw its way out of the pits of hell.

                “You want to go back.” There was no question in her voice; she didn’t need to bother with it. That was why he was here; it was the only reason he would have left the suite he’d sealed himself in since arriving. “After how your semester ended, that’s quite the interesting sentiment. Does this mean you’ve decided to finally explain why you lapsed into a coma, and then managed to vanish from right in front of your bodyguards?”

                “To be fair, since they were guarding me, shouldn’t that be something they’re raked over the coals for?” There it was, just as she’d been expecting. His tone was polite, his words carefully chosen, and his point valid, but there was a chuckling barb tucked beneath that simple veneer. Nicholas wasn’t just accepting her authority as he once had, he was testing her. Dancing with her. He was making a game of it. Part of her was annoyed at his boldness, but most of her was glad he’d finally gotten around to it. Leaders couldn’t be beholden to anyone’s authority. Once he could best her, he’d truly be ready for the next step in his path.

                “They have told us everything they know, which, while inadequate, is still better than you, who is clearly holding information back.”

                “I’m playing a very long con, and that means keeping my information as close to the vest as possible. You’re the one who taught me the importance of keeping my mouth shut when information is dangerous, even around people I can trust.”

                Smart play, using her advice against her, though it hadn’t slipped her notice that Nicholas merely said he was running a con: he’d never specified on whom.

                “Even if we look past your curious silence, this last semester was far from brimming with accomplishments. You failed to uncover the answer to whatever puzzle you were after; you managed to expose one of our operative’s identities to a future Hero; you were put in a mysterious coma and abducted from your room; and worst of all, you failed to anticipate an attack from Nathaniel Evers that made us look unacceptably weak.”

                “If I may address those points: we both knew my puzzle would not be the sort that was so easy it could be solved in a single semester, and I have certainly made progress on it. Yes, Eliza’s identity was revealed to Vince, however, he doesn’t know what it is she or I do, nor about our involvement in the organization. If anything, I’ve just provided you with an emotional vulnerability to exploit on a man who could one day be a tremendous Hero.” He paused briefly, sizing up Ms. Pips’ expression. This next piece could be played in one of two ways, defense or aggression. She didn’t seem to be yielding much, so that meant he’d have to take the offense route. “We’ll skip the coma, since that was little more than an inconvenience, instead, let’s cut to the heart of the matter: Nathaniel’s attack. You’re absolutely right about my failure there. I should have been smarter, been more aware, and anticipated any move he would make. Nathaniel Evers got the better of us, of me. And that is exactly why I have to go back to Lander.”

                “For revenge? Come now, you know I’d never authorize that sort of thing unless there was a profit in it,” Ms. Pips said.

                “No, I need to go back because I failed to beat him the first time. He was stopped, but not by me. Right now, we’re at a draw; neither of us considers his last attempt to be a true win or loss. But if I don’t return, I look like I’m running. Like his last attack was strong enough to scare me away, and that 
will
 make it his win. I’ll look weak, and worse, the Family will look weak for allowing me to do it. Nathaniel Evers has left me with only one choice: return to Lander and finish the fight.”

                It was well planned, calculatingly reasoned, and designed to appeal directly to her line of thinking. He had almost backed her into a corner, leaving her with the choice of conceding pride to the Evers or letting him have his way. Nicholas still had his skills, whatever sentiments might dance in his eyes. Of course, he’d forgotten the first rule she ever taught him: always have a trump card. Hers was the manila folder resting in her top desk drawer. Inside were documents that would not only keep Nicholas in Vegas, but would compel him to burn his precious Lander to the ground if she demanded it. And he’d do it all with a “thank you” and a smile. She merely had to pull out the folder, and she’d win.

                And all it would cost her was a single broken promise.

                “If I let you go back, I expect you to return home with unquestioned victory. I will not allow our organization to lose face in a confrontation like this. You either destroy Nathaniel Evers completely, or you’ll be coming back home as an employee who failed his task, and we will have to make quite the example out of you.”

                “I’m aware of the rules we live by.”

                “Very well, then. You have my blessing; go spend the next few months at Lander. Indulge in whatever side-games are keeping you so entertained there; just be sure to take care of our business when the chance arises.”

                “Thank you very much.” He rose from his seat and began heading toward the large door at the end of the office. Before he made it all the way there, Ms. Pips called to him.

                “Nicholas, make sure you take special note of how this meeting went. You were the one who insisted on going, I wanted you to stay. Don’t ever forget that, understand?”

                “Yes, ma’am.” Nick Campbell pushed the door open and strode out into the hall, suddenly far less certain that he’d actually won that confrontation.

152.

               “Boys, we’ve got some company!” Sally Daniels did not yell as much as she willed her voice through all material obstacles and into the ears of the children she was calling. This capability was not superhuman in origin, or, if it was, then it was an ability that all mothers are given, along with lie-ray vision, and the power to summon storms of guilt. Her voice hit its mark, and soon, Vince and Hershel were coming quickly but carefully down the stairs.

                “Is Mr. Transport back?” Hershel asked as he took the last step and landed on the ground floor. He’d taken the news of his mother’s romantic entanglement surprisingly well, thankful that she wasn’t quite as alone anymore. Roy had been a bit of a harder sell, but after a surprisingly creative and well-articulated string of threats toward Mr. Transport, he’d eventually accepted the fact that his mother was still a woman and might enjoy companionship.