The Distort Arc: Cape High Books 1-4 (Cape High Series Omnibus) (4 page)

"And your children?" Double M asks.

The room goes still.  Everyone is shocked by the statement--but not nearly as shocked as Nico is.  He can feel the blood leave his face.

"What?"

***

"Just how did you get into my first hour class?" I demand as I lead Max into my History class.

"What, you think I'm going to come to school just to go to classes that you two aren't in?" Max asks, looking every inch the typical teenage highschooler.  Girls are staring at him.  Guys are watching him.  Who am I kidding?  He's the center of attention and it's all his fault that I am too, now.  But now Max isn't looking at me--he's looking at someone sitting at the back.

I look up, following his line of sight, knowing that it will be Jack--but it's not. A tall, quiet blonde guy is sitting there.  I think his name is... What was it, again?  Brent?  Trent?  I'm not sure, but he's staring right back at Max.  Automatically I reach out, tugging at Max's sleeve.  "Hey, we need to sit down," I say.

He looks at me, as if only now remembering that I'm there.  "Yeah, sure," he says, heading for a seat next to the window.  I can't help but look at Trent, curiously.  He's watching Max like a hawk.

"Do you know him?" I whisper as I sit down in front of him.

"Nope."

"Then what was all that?"

"Your imagination," Max says.  I don't believe him.  In fact I find myself looking over at the other guy, trying to think of what I know about him.  He never talks unless the teacher asks him something.  He doesn't stand out.  There's a lot of kids in school that don't stand out, including me.  So why would Max look straight at him?

Jack walks in.  He's actually here before the class starts, that's a shocker.  That he's heading straight for me and Max, on the other hand, isn't a surprise at all.  "What are you doing here?" he demands, grabbing Max's shirt.  "You don't go here."

"I do now.  Stop stretching my shirt."

"You're lying."

"He's not, Jack," I say, staring at the hand on Max's shirt rather than at Jack.  I can't help it.  What happens if he tears the shirt?  Does Max just blow it off--or does he kill him?  And don't tell me that I'm paranoid, a guy that can lift two greyhound buses with his mind can absolutely kill someone.  "He transferred."

Jack looks at me, but I'm still staring at his hand.  He lets go with a curse.  "I don't like this guy!"

"So?  You don't like me, either.  All it means is you should sit on the other side of the room."

"I don't--don't like you," he mutters.  "We're house mates, right?  That counts!"

I look at him, raising an eyebrow.  "For what?"

"For having an opinion on your boyfriend!" he says, snarling the final word.  Oh.  Right.  He thinks we're dating.

"No it doesn't," I say after sorting through that thought and deciding it might be for the best, still. 

"Yes it does!"

"No it doesn't!"

"Yes it--"

"It doesn't," Max says.  "Now sit down."  I can feel it, I realize as Jack literally collapses into the seat behind him.  It's like gravity is shoving down on me--not nearly as hard as it is on Jack, apparently, but it is.  The look on Jack's face is priceless.  His eyes are huge and his face is pale.

"You're--" he says.

"A student in this school?  Yes, I am," Max says.  A chair clatters and we all turn, staring at Trent whose desk has fallen to the ground.  He's standing, his hands in fists at his sides, his attention completely focused on Max.  Max looks at him, smiling slightly, as if satisfied by something.

"That's one more," he says quietly.

I look at him.  I look at Trent, or whatever his name is, who's picking up his desk and setting it up properly now.  So... that means there's four of us here?

Well... crap.

***

"Your son and daughter emailed us earlier this week," Mastermental says, pulling out a file.  "I wasn't aware of them, either, actually.  But once I looked into it--well, you can see for yourself."  He steps into the light, a distinguished looking Asian man.  He looks only a bit over middle age, even though he is certainly old enough to be Nico's father. 

Slowly Nico takes the folder, pulling it open.  The two pictures pinned to the front page have him staring blindly.  The boy, especially, he realizes.  "Who's the mother?" he asks.

"Rosenthorn.  Summer Rosenthorn," Mastermental says.  "You should know that better than we do, I suspect."

Nico curses and starts flipping through the papers, skimming the information.  "I want a paternity test," he says, tossing the folder over his shoulder.  "You have no proof that they're mine."

"Fine, I'll arrange it."

"But this isn't why we're here," Nico says.  "We're here to say that I'm ready for parole."

"Ah, yes, about that," Mastermental says, strolling out of the light again.  "We have some demands that you need to fulfill."

"What the heck?  I'm the ex-villain, not you!"

"First, you really will become a benefit to society," Mastermental says, completely ignoring him.  "Considering your special talents, I've already determined how you will do so--under close supervision, of course.  Very close supervision."

"What, working at Burger King?" Nico snarls.  "Thanks, but no thanks.  I can find a job for myself."

"You'll be one of the heads of a new project.  And since you've so gracefully contributed to the next generation of heroes, who better to teach them?"

"What?" Nico says, trying to comprehend what he swears he must have just heard.

"We need to train our future heroes.  A mentoring style is all well and good to a point, but I think we would all prefer if heroes had a more structured, controlled raising.  Regulation, Nico, regulation is the key.  Supers need to know more than just vigilanteism these days.  They need to know how to deal with a variety of situations in a politically correct manner--or at least pass themselves off as being politically correct."

"And you're having a super villain teach them this."

"Not just you, of course.  There will be a board of teachers under you--"

"I don't want to teach!" Nico says, going straight to the heart of it.  "I have no use for kids!  They're annoying wastes of space and time--"

"You are the son of Superior and Tatiana," Mastermental says--his voice echoing both in the room and in Nico's mind.  It's booming and painful, but Nico doesn't dare wince.  "You have brought two children into this world--Superior stock--and you dare tell me that you won't train them?  This is more than just a debt to society--this is a prospective disaster and it is all. Your. Fault."

"Two," Nico says almost silently.

"Two what?"

"There's two of them--if the blood tests prove they are mine," he grits out.  His head is killing him.  He's pretty much paralyzed, thanks to the power null suit and collar they've stuck him in.  It says something that he can even talk at this moment.

"Exactly.  Two disasters.  You of all people must realize how dangerous it is to have two Superior blood children wandering the streets."

"Their mother is--"

"Missing," Mastermental says.  "Presumed dead.  She's been gone for about a year and a half--"

"What?" Nico asks.  "How--"

"Norms do that, I'm afraid.  They die so easily--"

"SUMMER ISN'T A NORM!" he bellows, his emotions boiling up enough to shake the paralysis out of his system.  He gets to his feet, but there's no one to grab or even yell at face to face.  Mastermental is nowhere to be seen.  He can't even hear him breathing.  "Summer was--Summer was--IS Lady Rose."

The room goes silent.  Finally it's Mastermental that speaks.  "You're telling us," he says very calmly, "that those are the children of Technico and Lady Rose?"

"But Lady Rose was an elemental hero--she could control--" another voice speaks up.

"Nature," Technico finishes when the speaker lets it trail off.  "Yeah."

"You're an idiot," Mastermental says.  "What in the world were you thinking, messing around with an Elemental hero?"

"I didn't expect her to have kids!" Technico protests.  "It was just--just a... fling."  Which is a lie, he thinks, but Lady Rose had been a super hero, he'd been a super villain, those sort of star crossed love stories never worked out.  He'd known that going into it.  He'd just loved her enough not to care.

But... the children of a Superior brat and an S class elemental--

He feels a little light headed.

"Are... are you sure they're mine?" he finally asks.

***

It's finally lunch time.  I'm stressed out, irritated, and wishing that Max would disappear.  Yes, he's cute, yes, he can be funny sometimes, too, but he's also a perfect way to rile every single guy that hears him on some level or another.  Including my brother.  I drop down at the table in the corner of the cafeteria, dropping my bagged lunch on the table in front of me.  I'm not surprised when Sunny drops down across from me.  I wish I was surprised when Max drops down next to me.

"You stick out too much," Sunny says, going straight to the problem.  "You've gotten everyone on edge--even if they don't know."

"That's their problem," Max says, looking at the tray of food that he's bought.  "Is this real meat?"

"Don't ask," I mutter.  "But Sunny's right."

"Think I can make a run to Burger King and back before lunch is over?" Max asks, now poking at the hamburger patty.  "I'm pretty sure there was a story about pink slime in the news that is extremely relevant right now."

I glare at him, grabbing his plate and dropping my paper bag in front of him.  "Peanut butter and jelly," I say.  "Enjoy."

He looks at me for a moment, then shrugs and opens the bag as I start to eat his food.  "So what pow--"

A tray clatters as it's dropped onto the table and we all look up in shock at the blonde boy who's sitting down next to Sunny.  "You," Trent says, "what are you doing here?"  He's looking straight at Max.

"So you did notice," Max says.  "I wondered."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Sunny demands.

"This guy's one of us," Max says.  "After you spend time around the others long enough, you tend to get a feel for it.  Not to mention he took to the sky when I pissed him off this morning.  For a second or two."  He's finishing off the pudding cup at the moment, so he doesn't seem to be taking this too seriously.  "I'm betting you're still learning to fly."

"You could have killed that kid," Trent snarls.

"Sure I could have," Max says.  "Let me guess, you're the oldest or only son of... one of the big names, I bet.  You look familiar."

"That's none of your business--and these two have nothing to do with it," Trent says.  "So leave them alone."

"You think so?" Max asks, leaning back in his chair and looking at me and Sunny.  "You don't see it--of course you don't.  He was tossed into the cells over fifteen years ago--you were a baby.  I wasn't much older, but I do my research."

"Who?"

"Technico."

Trent looks completely blank.  "Never heard of him," he says finally.  "Wait, you mean they're--you're--" he looks at me, then at Sunny, his expression reminding me of Max's from the night before.  "No way," he says.  "What can you do?" he asks.

"Do we really want to discuss this in a public area?" Sunny asks.

"No one can hear over this group, it's fine," Max says.  "I want to know, too.  I mean I've got a rough idea, but I'm not sure.  What's your ability, Sunny?"

Sunny looks at his sandwich for a moment and I can see him hesitating.  "It's lame," he finally says.

"Doubt it," Max says.

"It's not lame, you just need to learn how to use it," I encourage him.

"I--ah--plants," Sunny says, still not looking at them.  "I'm ah... plants," he admits.  "And maybe dirt.  I'm not sure."

"What?" Max asks.  He looks completely thrown off guard.  "No, seriously, what?  How in the heck can you specialize in plants?  That's elemental--Technico is a super scientist that specializes in technopathy," he says.  "I mean it's not totally impossible, but it's highly unlikely."  He looks at me.  "What're you?"

"Um... machines blow up on me," I say, feeling ridiculously lame.

"Yeah, you take after Technico," he says.  "But--"  He stares at Sunny, frowning in thought.  "I don't get it," he says finally.

Trent is eating way more than looks physically possible.  I can't help but stare at the pile of food in front of him.  "How can you eat that much?" I ask.

"I'm a growing boy," Trent says between bites.

"Growing fat, you mean," Max drawls.  "So... what's your name?"

"Don't have to tell you," Trent replies.  "You're not going to be here for long, not when they realize what you are.  No point in bothering to play friendly."

"I'm a teenager," Max says.  "That's a perfectly good qualifier for coming to high school."  He's finished his lunch--my lunch--and is resting his arm on the back of my chair.  I give him a dirty look.  "What?" he asks.