Black and Blue

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  I watched as the color drained from her face. She swallowed, then turned to the kitchen door, pausing to look back over her shoulder at her jacket, still hung over the back of a chair. I reached down for it, then shoved it in her hands.

  “Go,” I said, my voice half a growl.

  I didn’t need to ask her again.

  “Dammit!” My hands clenched into fists. I wanted desperately to hit something. Hurt someone. The faultlines around me jumped into focus, tempting me to strike.

  And then the phone in my pocket vibrated.

  I jumped in response, then pulled it out. A text message from Dawn appeared on the screen. Apologizing for last night and telling me she had managed to reach Dana. Three dots showed up on the screen, indicating that she was entering a follow up.

  Predictable. Amity had called me. Said that Dawn, would never change. And how that would make us incompatible.

  Was she wrong?

  “Why the hell am I doing this?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Who did I think I was, a superhero? I had never wanted that. Was finding Marty really about helping the drones? Even if I found him and Amity wiped his mind, he’d still be messed up. They’d all be messed up. And that might last forever. Me interrupting political rallies or allying myself with the Forgers wasn’t going to change that. I had fucked up, that was true, but if there was no way to make up for it, then why even try?

  Or was this actually about “chasing Dawn’s skirts,” as Amity had put it. Proving to her that I wasn’t a bad guy. And sure, the spark was there, and she might want to “learn more about me,” but maybe Amity was right.

  Maybe we were nothing more than a predictable pattern of fuck-ups.

  “Shit,” I murmured, tossing the phone on the table. Now was not the time to make any decisions. Not when I was still half-enraged, threatening people with physical violence just for getting on my nerves. Best to head downstairs, to the boxing bag I had set up years ago. I was pretty sure I couldn’t break that.

  Better to blow off steam. Dawn, Dana, they could take care of this whole reverse-transference thing on their own.

  After all, it wasn’t my place.

  I gave myself twenty-minutes with the bag, ten in the shower, and then headed across the city. My beat-up Jetta made the process a lot quicker, even with the remains of the morning traffic to deal with. I pulled up behind the Forger’s shifty-ass hideaway and parked in the back. I immediately popped the trunk and pulled out my gym bag. Before leaving the house, I had swapped my sweaty workout clothes for my armor. Figured it was a good idea, given what had happened at Kent’s rally.

  And as much as I resented Riley for pointing that out, he hadn’t been wrong. My powers were impressive, but my body could be broken as fast as anyone else’s.

  Which is why I wasn’t looking to repeat that mistake again, even with Black and Blue trapped inside of Forger Headquarters.

  I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked toward the door, then froze.

  Dana Peterson was walking around the building.

  He was headed in my direction, not that he was looking this way. No, he was squinting at the building as if trying to see through the walls. It was why he didn’t catch sight of me until he was paces away.

  “Oh, shit,” he said, tensing up. “I mean…”

  “You lost?” I asked, remembering that Dana had yet to see me unmasked.

  “Ah, no. I…” He shook his head. “Look. I suck at this secret identity bullshit dance, so can we just get past it?”

  “What?”

  “I have access to my powers again, which apparently means that I can see other people’s powers. So, from my perspective? You glow, man. You are a fucking Christmas tree in December, and no mask or costume is going to hide that.”

  I dropped my bag to the ground. It let out a crash. Dana jumped.

  “Jesus, man, I’m sorry but I couldn’t think of a better way—”

  “You know,” I said, jaw tight. “I started this whole thing five days ago because I didn’t want people to know who I was. And now—”

  “Oh, I am way too terrified of you to ever say anything about it.”

  “You have a weird way of showing it!”

  “Snark is a defense mechanism for me.”

  “Then you must always be on the defense.”

  “It’s multi-purpose. Anyway, is Dawn here yet? Been wandering around this stupid building for fifteen minutes.”

  “Doesn’t she glow like a Christmas tree too?”

  “Oh, she’s plenty festive, trust me. It’s the concrete walls that are the issue. I feel like there’s something up there—”

  “There is,” I said. “Let’s buzz them down.”

  I picked up my bag and swung around toward the door, not even checking to see if Dana was following me. I approached the building and pressed the buzzer.

  “Tried it. No answer,” Dana said.

  “Well, maybe they just didn’t like your face.”

  We waited several awkward minutes until the door swung open to reveal Jane on the other side. She looked between Dana and myself.

  “Is that…” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Come upstairs.”

  I frowned, wondering how, in the matter of twenty-four hours, Dana had gone from a potential second coming to “doesn’t matter.” And why did Jane look so upset? Tense was one thing. But now her eyes were red-rimmed with tears.

  It was enough to get me on that elevator, even though I hadn’t given it a good look yet.

  “I take it that questioning Calypso didn’t go well.”

  Jane scowled. “I had worked so hard. To help the Forgers make us stronger.” She faltered. “Have you ever worked so hard on something you saw as a power for good only to see your life’s work twisted in the end?”

  “Ah, no, actually.”

  “Aren’t you a little young to have a ‘life’s work?’” Dana quipped.

  Jane spun toward him. “I put years of work into this. Every day. So that we would be able to help people, outsiders, find their way back to the fold.”

  Dana let out a sigh. “Listen, I’ve been a teenager before. You think everything’s the end of the world. You have to spend every day in boring classes. The pretty girl won’t go to prom with you. Your mom suspects you might be responsible for the missing neighborhood cat.”

  “The fuck?” I began, then shook my head. “Ignore him. He’s…dealing with some repressed memories.”

  “Sometimes the monster in your closet is you!” Dana said, then immediately buried his face in his hands. “Ugh…when snark fails you. I’m probably going to need to sit down soon.”

  “Regardless, Jane, you’re not making much sense. What’s going on?”

  The doors swung open and we stepped out.

  “I…there’s a lot of missing data here,” she said. “The only thing I’m sure about is that Dawn is never going to forgive me for this.”

  “Wait. What do you mean, Dawn—”

  “Ah! A convenient distraction,” Dana announced. “She’s this way.”

  And with that, Dana stepped in front of us and headed to Birchwood Realty. Jane had to scoot out in front of him to open the doors. We headed into the holding area to the right, where Dana came to a halt.

  “Huh,” he said with a frown. “Dawn’s there.” He pointed to the bathroom. “And Calypso’s there.” He pointed down the hallway. “Then who’s…”

  “Riley probably,” I said, then paused. “Although…he doesn’t have powers.”

  “Yeah, but this one is different.”

  Without another word, Dana walked down the hallway. He passed Calypso’s door and Jane’s eyes went wide.

  “N-no,” she said. “He can’t.”

  And then I remembered yesterday, how Riley’s head had poked out of Calypso’s door. And how he had looked farther down the hall from us before glancing toward the exit. Almost as if he was worried that we had headed in the opposite direction.

  I picked up my pace
to a jog and followed.

  “You can’t go there,” she said. “That’s Forger property!”

  Dana paused at the door to another room and reached for the knob.

  “Locked,” he said.

  “Like hell it is.” I pulled on the remains on my anger from the morning. The knob broke with one loud snap. The door swung open at the lightest touch.

  “Shit,” I swore.

  Because on the other side lay Marty Tong, curled up on a mattress in a dark room. He blinked up at the new source of light, then cringed away from me.

  I spun toward Jane, jaw tense. And saw…

  Nothing but nerves. She wasn’t surprised at all.

  “I suppose this makes sense,” I said. “You were right outside of Colossus, just like Calypso.” My jaw tightened. “I guess that would have made it easy for you to help us find him.”

  “R-Riley said to wait,” Jane said. “That it was only temporary. After all, he’s just…just—”

  “What? An Outsider!”

  “He knows too much! Calypso clearly favored him. He knows about us. That’s bigger than you and me. We can’t have people finding out who he is. We were going to pull in a psychic, and then Riley saw that you knew Amity Graves—”

  “I also said that I couldn’t find her!”

  “It was just temporary! Only a few days. Or weeks! He’d be fine in the end.”

  “Oh, he looks fine,” Dana said with a snort.

  I turned around, back to Marty, to see him curled up in a ball. Which wasn’t surprising. Being trapped inside an empty cell for days wasn’t good for anyone, but for a drone who was already vulnerable…

  Of course, I had been ready to do the exact same thing to him.

  “Makes me almost feel sorry for him.” Dana sighed. “And then I remember he hit me with a tire iron.”

  “I need to get Riley.” Jane turned from us and jogged down the hall.

  I shook my head, pushing the door shut. Of course, with the handle broken, he could get out fine on his own. But something told me he wasn’t likely to run.

  “Dana, how the hell did you even find him?” I asked. “He’s not Empowered.”

  “Well no, but he is connected to Calypso. All the drones are. Still. It’s probably what makes them so messed up.” His head snapped forward. “By the way, why is Dawn connected—”

  And with that, the doorway at the end of the hall burst open.

  But it wasn’t Dawn who walked out.

  It was Black and Blue.

  “Shit,” I said. “How did Calypso—”

  And at the sound of my voice, she pivoted toward me and braced herself in what was becoming a familiar gesture.

  She was going to leap.

  The second her feet left the ground, I dived to the side, taking Dana with me. We landed on the floor inside Marty’s room, and I looked up just in time to see Black and Blue shoot past where I had just been standing.

  Shit, she would have crashed right into me.

  “What the hell,” Dana began, as Marty scrambled into the corner, eager to get as far away from us as possible.

  “Seriously,” I scrambled to my feet. “How the hell did Calypso—”

  But I didn’t have time to finish. A single gloved hand latched itself onto the door and yanked it off its hinges. In its place stood Black and Blue—Calypso—her lips curled into a snarl.

  “Traitor,” she hissed.

  Only this time, she wasn’t looking at me, but Dana.

  I supposed she had reasons to be salty.

  “Fuck, not anymore! I swear!” Dana babbled behind me, raising his hands as if to protect his face.

  She strode into the room.

  And I stepped in the way, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Sorry, Calypso,” I said. “But we need him to fix you and Dawn.”

  Her response was to take a swing at me.

  And holy hell, am I glad that she telegraphed that punch so clearly. I dodged it easily and watched as the fist, which had just torn a heavy-ass door from its hinges, flew by my face. I found myself wishing for my helmet.

  My dodge clearly caught her off guard, and the resulting opening allowed me to step in close and deliver a solid strike to the jaw. She let out a cry and, spinning with the force of the blow, stumbled straight into Riley, who had stepped in when neither of us was looking. He was already wearing those damned gauntlets, and they hummed with electricity.

  He grabbed her arms. Only instead of a massive charge like before, the gauntlets let out a single spark.

  The hum died down to nothing.

  “Oh shi—” Riley began.

  His words were cut off as Calypso kicked him, the force enough to send him flying out of the room and into the hallway. He hit the opposite wall, hard, then crumbled into a heap on the floor.

  And for a second—I couldn’t help it—I froze. Had Calypso just killed one of the Forgers?

  She stepped out into the hall, hands balled into fists, ready to finish the job if necessary.

  Only to be hit by an incoming ball of electricity that sent her flying down the hall.

  “Riley!” I heard Jane screech.

  “Dammit,” I cursed.

  I scrambled to my feet, pausing only when I realized that there was an arm clamped across my bicep. I looked down to see that Marty had grabbed onto it, his eyes wide.

  “Is she here?” he said. “I can feel…”

  That connection Dana had mentioned.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s here, man.”

  Marty’s face collapsed into relief.

  “I knew it,” he said.

  “Oh god, Riley!”

  I turned to the door to see Jane fall to her knees next to her partner.

  “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t fast enough,” she said. “I’m—”

  The definitely-not-dead Riley let out a moan.

  “Argh, my ribs,” he said. “And back.”

  “I remember how that feels,” I said, approaching him.

  And then I heard the breaking of glass to my left. I jerked my head down the hall to see Calypso darting out a window.

  “Shit,” I said, getting ready to move. “Not this again.”

  “No,” Riley said, his voice strained. “It’s worse.”

  “How.” I jerked toward him. “Calypso is—”

  “That’s not Calypso,” Jane interrupted. “That’s Dawn.”

  I froze. “You’re gonna to have to explain that one to me.”

  17

  Torn Apart

  Dawn

  Over the years, I had grown fond of white walls.

  It was their consistency that did it, the lack of interruptions, allowing me to focus on one simple thing without the constant barrage of distractions. At least, most of the time.

  My father sitting at the kitchen table, hands dirty from working on cars all day, face permanently lined from scowling.

  I shook my head, focusing on the white walls and their quiet blankness. Such a calming color, although I preferred green.

  “Callie. Callie. Do you hear me, girl?”

  I jerked to attention, turning toward the nurse who stood above me and had likely been talking to me for a while now. She was a tall woman, solidly built with big hands and an ugly, half-squashed face. I blinked, and the face transformed into Mary Mayhew, pursing her lips in disapproval.

  “I doubt your mother would approve of this.”

  I blinked and she changed back to the nurse. My nurse? How long had she been here? It was so hard to keep track of time.

  “Having a good day today?” She tipped my chin upward, forcing me to look her in the eye.

  “Refusing to let people know that you see them is like denying their existence.”

  “Okay,” I murmured answering…who? My mother? The nurse? There were too many variables. So hard to keep track.

  “Why don’t we try a nice walk by the water today,” the nurse said. “I promise it will be relaxing.”
<
br />   She reached for the arms of my wheelchair. I felt myself clench up at the thought of leaving the comfort of my safe white walls.

  “You like the outdoors, Callie, right?”

  Dark-haired Miranda, standing on top of that mountain, her lips spreading into an appealing grin.

  Could grab my attention from across the room, that smile.

  “Surprised I got you up here.”

  “What did you say?”

  The nurse’s words cut through my thoughts. I shook my head. Come on, Callie. Concentrate. You’re not on a mountaintop with Miranda anymore. (How long ago had that been? Weeks? Months? Years?) Concentrate on those white walls. Stay in the present. Don’t—

  My nurse swung my wheelchair away from the wall, facing me toward the door. A flash of sunlight from a nearby window filled my vision with—

  Light, heat surrounded me. I opened my bedroom door to see the flames bearing down. Later, the firefighters would shake their heads over how it had been able to spread so fast. If only my father had purchased smoke detectors. If only our house hadn’t been so isolated from the rest of the town. If only my mother hadn’t taken a sleeping pill that night. If only…

  Heat flashed, and I raised my hands to protect my face. Only this time, I found myself being pushed toward the flames instead of fleeing away.

  I let out a yelp of fear, launching myself from my wheelchair, only to trip over my own two feet and fall onto the floor. My nurse—no, my executioner—let out useless soothing noises as she reached down to help me up.

  I responded with violence, kicking, biting, wishing to God they hadn’t trimmed my nails so short after last time. I wanted to tear the skin from my jailer’s arms.

  I barely heard her cries for help, but it didn’t take long before the rest of them arrived, surrounding me, pushing me down with their many arms. I thrashed harder, knowing what would come next.

  “Time for a little lie-down,” one of them said, her voice irritatingly, relentlessly calm.

  She pulled out a hypodermic.

  “N-no,” I choked out. “No-no-no-no.”

  The needle stabbed into my arm and the plunger descended, pushing me into the horrors of unconsciousness, away from my calming white walls. Where my mind, unable to concentrate on anything, lay awash in my own memories. Of the fire. Dana Peterson with his wide, white grin. The feel of another woman’s soft hand in mind—