The Rise of Renegade X (22 page)

“We’re not going to find your dad like this,” I tell Sarah, wishing I didn’t have to talk and run at the same time.

“We can’t leave him here!” She stumbles on the carpet as another raygun blast misses her foot, blowing a hole in the floor.

We hit a dead end. Sort of. We reach the elevator, and I punch the up button over and over.

There are about ten security guards, plus Henrietta, closing in on us.

“Use your weapon, Renegade!” Sarah shouts. “Shoot them!”

I hold the gun up, but I don’t want to use it. “Cosine, if I told you I could get your dad out of here but we’d have to leave right now, would you believe me?”

Sarah looks to the elevator doors, which are still closed, and to the Vilmore security force. The security guard closest to the front eyes the gun I’m holding, in all its garage-sale chic, and he actually smiles. A smug, nasty smile that sends unpleasant shivers up my spine.

Sarah grabs my shoulder. “Do something!”

“Do you believe me?!”

“Yes! Anything, just get us out of here!”

I swallow and aim the gun. The security guards go tense but don’t shoot. Henrietta hangs out near the back, ducking behind them. There’s no way I could shoot them all before they took us down,
if
I was crazy enough to listen to Sarah. It’s easy for her to tell me to do the dirty work. She sees me as a hero, but I’m half villain when it’s convenient.

In one quick motion, I point the gun at the ceiling and fire. A blue laser flashes. Huge chunks of plaster and wood and debris rain down on the security guards. A couple crumple to the ground, buried in ceiling remains. The others cough and wipe at their eyes to get the dust out. The elevator doors ding open. I shove Sarah through and push the button for the ground floor as fast as I can.

I surprise Helen when I drag myself into the house at almost two thirty a.m. Once we got out of the elevator, Sarah and I were able to evade Vilmore security long enough to get off campus and find our way to the train station. The last train didn’t leave until after one, hence my late arrival back at the Tines house. I was hoping I could sneak in unnoticed, since Amelia tells me we’re not allowed out after nine on a school night. But after hijacking a train, stealing a car, and causing massive damage to my future alma mater, coming home late is the least of my crimes. Helen’s sitting at the dining room table in her pajamas, reading a book. She gasps when I open the door and puts a hand over her heart.

“Oh, Damien, you startled me.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up.” To catch me sneaking in at all hours of the night, which is apparently frowned upon. Mom wouldn’t care when I was out. She has a tendency to get cranky if I wake her up at ungodly hours or disturb her lab time, but that’s it.

“I couldn’t sleep, so—” Helen sets her book down, her brows furrowing. “Hey, you all right there? You look exhausted. What happened to the sleepover?”

Apparently she didn’t get the memo about what a horrible, misbehaving stepson I am. I stand in the doorway, my mouth gaping open, not sure what to say.

“Things didn’t go so well at Joe’s, huh?”

Joe? Who the hell is Joe? I play along and shake my head.

“Amelia said you were staying over. I figured your phone call to Gordon earlier might have had something to do with you wanting to be scarce tonight.” She sighs. “What happened? You change your mind, kid?”

“Oh, well …” I scratch the side of my head and tromp into the kitchen. I haven’t eaten anything since the lemon meringue, and that was hours ago. “Joe and I got in a fight.”

“What?” She heaves herself up from her chair. “About what?”

Judging by her level of surprise, she must be under the impression that I’m some kind of saint, despite knowing about my phone call to Gordon. I guess acting out against my dad who recently tried to kill me is one thing, getting in a fight with a supposed sleepover buddy is another. I grab a box of crackers from the cupboard. I stuff some into my mouth as I say, “Well, he didn’t like it when I kissed him.”

Helen pales. She stops in her tracks, too shocked to come comfort me. She blinks a couple of times. “You kissed him.”

Cracker crumbs spill from my mouth. “To see what it was like.”

“How was it?”

I shrug. “I’ve had better.”

Helen laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “Guys are jerks.”

“Oh yes. Down with Joe. Good riddance to him.” I chug down a glass of water to go with all the crackers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll eat something real. After I’ve slept.

“Gordon wasn’t too happy you were going to stay out on a school night, especially after your phone call, but I told him you needed space and it was good you were making friends. I won’t tell him it didn’t work out if you won’t.”

I promise her I won’t say anything. She says good night, chuckling to herself over my exploits, and goes to bed.

I turn out the lights and flop down on the couch. I’m already half asleep when I hear the attic stairs creak, and then Amelia pokes me in the shoulder.
“Psst. Damien.”

I open my eyes, which is a mistake because she has a flashlight. I squint and shield my face with my arm. “Put that away.” I ward off her flashlight, covering the bright end with my hand. It glows red, but at least I’m not blind.

Amelia points it at the floor. She kneels down beside me and whispers, “There was a message on the machine, from the school. About you not showing up today. I erased it.”

“Ah, for me? You shouldn’t have.” So much sarcasm oozes out of my voice, even someone as thick as Amelia could pick up on it.

“I told Mom you were at a friend’s house. So you wouldn’t get in trouble for not coming home.”

“Oh, great. Too bad none of that makes up for what you did. Dr. Wiggles finally got his degree, only so you could kill him.”

“I said I was sorry.” Her voice is tight and small. “I thought …”

“You thought I’d forgive you if you covered for me?” I raise myself up on one arm. “I thought you wanted me out of here? You could have done us both a favor and let me get in trouble.” Okay, I am kind of glad she did what she did, because I’ve had enough hassle tonight—I didn’t need to deal with Gordon getting mad at me for coming home late, too. But on the plus side, if Gordon got mad enough to kick me out, Mom would have to take me back early.

“I shouldn’t have done that to Dr. Wiggles,” Amelia goes on. “I got carried away, because I was mad. I should have believed you about Blue Bunnykins. I’ve caught Alex playing with him before, but …” She scrapes her fingernail against the rim of the flashlight. Her eyes shift back and forth, too guilty to meet mine. “I didn’t blame you because you’re a supervillain. I did it because I was jealous, okay? I jumped to conclusions.”

“You got me thrown off a building.” Does she expect me to let that go? Because she says she’s sorry?

“I didn’t know Dad was going to—”

“Oh, I think you did.”

“Okay. I didn’t know you’d take it so badly.”

I glare at her.

“I didn’t know you were almost going to die!” Her eyes meet mine for the first time in this conversation. She sets her flashlight down on the floor, so the glow from the light creeps around the edge of the couch. “I thought you’d tell Dad you didn’t want to do it, and then he’d see how you don’t belong with us. How he shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“And then he’d see how great you are, since you’re chomping at the bit to get your flying power going?”

“Dad told us what happened, how he couldn’t save you and thought you weren’t going to make it. First, I was mad at you for not saying no. You didn’t
have
to try and fly. You went on and on about how you were a villain and didn’t have flying power, so I thought you were stupid for going along with it. But then I was mad at myself for betraying you. You’re my brother, and”—she grits her teeth and sucks it up—“and maybe you wouldn’t be so bad, if I got to know you. So I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Thanks.” I think. “I want you to know, Amelia, that I feel the exact same way.”

A hint of a smile plays across her lips.

“I’m glad I’m not dead, too.”

The smile wilts. “Ha ha.” She punches me in the shoulder. Then she lowers her voice, talking so quietly that I can barely hear her. “Did you really kiss a
boy?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She’s silent for a while. I’m drifting off when she says, “Damien … I … I tried to fix Dr. Wiggles for you. I taped him back together, but he’s not the same.” Her voice gets higher and louder the longer she goes on. “I really am sorry! I sewed up Blue Bunnykins—he’s all right—but Dr. Wiggles is really dead! I killed him!”

“Shh.” I reach out and poke her cheek. “It’s okay.” It’s going to be. I think. I’m too tired to fully assess how I feel about her apology and her confession of not hating my guts. “Sleep now. Grovel later.”

Amelia gets up and hovers over me. She keeps making sounds like she wants to say something else. Finally she says, “Damien … do you hate me because I’m a superhero?”

If I wasn’t already half asleep, I might tell her that her being a superhero is the least of the reasons she’s given me not to like her. Instead, all I manage to do is mumble, “No.”

“Good,” she says, sounding like she means it.

And I don’t know what happens after that, because I’m finally asleep.

“I
’m
so
glad you didn’t let me come home,” I tell Mom Tuesday morning before school. I’m sitting at the dining table, forging a note from Gordon, saying to forgive my absence yesterday, since I was too busy recovering from a nasty fall I had this weekend. One that left me emotionally scarred for life and that was all his fault.

“What?” Mom yawns on the other end of the phone. She wasn’t awake when I called. Not the first five times anyway.

“I was having trouble adjusting at first”—I pause to get the flare on the
G
of Gordon’s name right—“but now everything’s great. All I needed to do was give it some time.”

“Damien, it’s
six a.m.”

“Did you know superheroes get up early? I’ve been up since five—can’t wait to start the day, you know?” I got up twenty minutes ago, and only because the rest of the house was awake, stomping around while I was trying to sleep. I had to race Amelia and shove her out of the way to get a turn in the bathroom, and when I looked in the mirror … my hair was lopsided. Because someone had to shoot at me with a raygun. That first blast from Henrietta singed off the ends of my hair on one side. It could be worse—there could be a bald spot or a racing stripe instead of only being uneven, but still. This is the thanks I get for helping out Sarah. And it’s not over.

“Mom, you’ll never believe how many nice superhero girls I’ve met. They’re totally hot and extra friendly. Three hero girls want me to call them tonight. One might want to go all the way, but I’m okay with that. I can see myself settling down with her, having some kids.” I put the finishing touches on my fake note from Gordon and give it a second to dry.

“Damien,” Mom growls. She knows I’m saying these things to piss her off, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working. “What happened to Kat?”

“You see, the thing about Kat is she’s not what I’d call ‘my type’ anymore. All that villainy.” And, you know, taking up with other guys. “She’s—”

“Would one of these new girls happen to be Dr. Kink’s daughter?”

Whoa. How does she do that? “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Plus, Sarah’s not a superhero. “Must be the generation gap. Could you use hipper slang?”

Gordon wanders through the room, all dressed for work in his cape and leotard. I stuff the note I forged into my pocket before he can see it. He glares at me. “We need to have a talk,” he says. “About appropriate use of Q and A sessions.”

I point to the phone, indicating I can’t be bothered.

He clenches his fists and seems like he’s going to have it out with me right there, whether I’m on the phone or not, but then he takes a deep breath, gets ahold of himself, and continues on into the kitchen.

Mom’s tone is serious business. “Taylor got a phone call last night. Two kids broke into the room where they were holding Dr. Kink at Vilmore. One of them turned out to be his daughter. Messy blond hair and glasses. Does that ring any bells, sweetie? Because the other description sounded a lot like a certain, beloved son of mine who I know would never betray me like that.”