Admitting Patrick’s personality flaw was difficult, because I knew he only meant to train us up to be the best superheroes possible. It was disloyal not just to criticize him, but to criticize him to a member of the public. He'd led so many victorious missions.
I exhaled deeply as if doing so would expel the guilt.
Benjamin perked up. “You’ve seen them in action? That’s so cool! What were they like?”
The delighted excitement in his eyes was so endearing I couldn’t refuse to answer. However, I would need to select my words with care. “Atropos is telekinetic. There are four others who serve with him.”
“What are their names? Do you know their powers?”
I pretended to struggle to remember. “I’m pretty sure there are two other men besides Atropos. I thought I heard the black man call the white one ‘Tank.’ Tank moves rock. The other man is called Helios, and he makes light come out of his hand, or something like that. The woman with dark hair is super strong. The redhead’s codename is Firelight, but I don’t know what she does.” Ember’s powers were too subtle for a random civilian to know.
Benjamin mulled over the new information. “I wonder why the leader calls himself Atropos.”
“Atropos is one of the—”
“Fates. Yeah, I know, I’ve read a book or two.” He rolled his eyes. “She cut every mortal’s thread of life. What I meant was, why did he choose a goddess’s name? Why not Ares or something?”
I blushed at his tone. I couldn’t fault him, though; if someone tried to explain the principles to me, I’d be dismissive, too.
“It is odd that he chose a woman’s name,” I agreed, sipping my coffee. “I bet the appeal lay in the idea of being able to control life and death.” Actually, I was pretty darn sure that was the reason.
“That is so cool. Do you know if they’re any good?”
His excitement was contagious. “They’re the best.” I was unable to keep an indulgent smile from my face. “They fight all sorts of criminals. Violent crime has gone down thirty-six percent since they started patrolling. There have been three superhuman attacks in the city in the last six months and they stopped them all. They even….” I caught myself.
Benjamin just looked more excited. “They sound amazing. I’d love to know what the redhead’s power is. Do you know of anyone who might know?”
“Your best shot is the reporters who cover their stories.” I pointed to the magazine with Patrick on it. “But take their information with a grain of salt. They’ve all missed that there’s someone in town with healing powers.”
There was a pregnant pause.
Benjamin’s eyes darted towards the door. “That’s, uh, that’s a cool power.” His enthusiasm waned with each word.
I slipped out my sling and he paled.
“A few hours ago I could barely use my arm and now it’s good as new. Isn’t that amazing?”
Benjamin shrugged. “Nothing about a healed sprain says superhuman healing powers.”
“Sprains don’t just heal themselves in a few hours. It had to be something extraordinary. My shoulder was purple.”
“It may not have been a sprain. A tense muscle can relax after a while, and you said yourself that you had a good time earlier. Maybe the hot coffee helped you unwind?”
“Sure, maybe. But that’s not the only injury I got when I fell down the bleachers.” He froze. “I also had a large cut on the back of my neck and on my thigh. Can you explain how those healed in a few hours?”
He clenched his fist. “I’m sorry, Jillian, I just can’t.” His words were tight.
“Benjamin.” My voice was soothing as I placed my hand on his, but he pulled it away. “I know super powers exist and I’m not afraid of them.” I put my coffee down on the table. “And really, did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
He turned pink. “Why are you interrogating me?” He wasn’t angry, but he definitely wasn’t happy, either.
“Because life can be hard for people with gifts. Because the world expects things from Supers. Because you’re burdened with a secret, and I don’t mind helping you carry that burden.”
His jaw hardened. “You want to talk about secrets, Jillian? Let’s talk about the shiner that was on your face earlier.”
I touched my eye, momentarily lost for words. He’d seen it under the makeup and glasses?
“That? That was nothing. It was from falling—”
“—falling down the bleachers? That’s a load of bull and you know it. It was green and yellow, so you’ve had it for at least a couple of days, unlike your sprain. So tell me, do you fall down bleachers often?”
“My job causes a lot of injuries. I told you that.” I was aware that my tone was far from convincing.
“Uh huh. You’re an assistant gym teacher…at which school?”
“James Oglethorpe High School.” No hesitation.
“And what’s the district superintendent’s name?”
“It’s, uh, it’s…”
We both knew that he’d cornered me. I didn’t even know what a superintendent was. You’re stupid, you’re stupid, you’re stupid.
To my surprise, his expression softened. “I think you have the bigger secret, Jillian.”
“What gave me away?” My voice was faint. Could it be that six months of a secret identity had been unraveled by an observant man in a café in the space of a few hours? Was I really that terrible a superhero? I held my breath.
“Speaking as someone with serious sibling rivalry issues, I know what defensive wounds look like. The secrecy, the fact that you’ve been injured more than once this week, the way you were hiding here at the café…it all pointed to one conclusion.”
He took a breath as if he were about to jump off a high dive.
“Someone’s been abusing you. You need to get out of the relationship.” We stared at each other. Then, I laughed. His face was somewhere between angry and hurt. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”
“I know, I know.” My laughter turned to wheezes. His conclusion wasn’t remotely funny, of course, but I couldn’t hide my relief. “I know you’re serious.” I wiped my eye with a napkin and took a few breaths. “I just wasn’t expecting that answer.”
He scowled. “What were you expecting, then?”
“I wasn’t expecting relationship advice, that’s for sure.” I was deflecting as subtly as I could.
He took my hand in his. “You can trust me. There’s a shelter not far from here where you can stay. I can find out how to file a restraining order. You don’t have to stay in the relationship.”
This was surreal.
He continued, “Let me help you, please. You deserve better than someone who hits you.”
In my mind’s eye I saw a dozen memories of Patrick disciplining me for a smart mouth, a defiant look, insubordination, being late to a crime scene, talking to reporters, and rushing to defend Marco, Reid, and Ember from his fits of rage. I clearly deserved the punishments I received, and as I sat in a café eating treats with a civilian instead of actually doing my job, I knew I deserved another.
I hated how cold my hand became as I gently pulled it free from his warm grasp. “There’s just too much you wouldn’t understand.”
“Then please tell me. Help me understand.”
I shook my head. “I can’t talk to you about it, but I can assure you that I am not in an abusive relationship. There are people in my life who are difficult, but I’m okay. Please don’t worry yourself over me.”
It was difficult to say the words. They weren’t lies, but something inside me strained to take them back. The lump returned to my throat.
He looked doubtful. “Can you at least tell me who gave you the black eye?”
I had a strange impulse to tell the truth. I wanted to tell him the entire story of how I’d received my black eye. I wanted to give him a detailed explanation of where my sprain came from, and the cracked rib two months ago, and the countless scars that crisscrossed my back. I wan
ted to lay all my secrets in front of this person whom I’d known for a single afternoon.
This kind of idiocy was why Patrick disciplined me.
I picked up my coffee from the table and stood up. “You have a good afternoon, Benjamin. Thank you for the coffee and pastries. They were delicious.”
He sighed and stood up as well. “Just promise me something?”
“Sure.”
He placed his hand on my shoulder, and though I wasn’t injured anymore, I still felt a tingle where he touched me. “Call me if you need help.”
I hesitated, but then I nodded. “I will.”
I turned and walked out the door of the café, brushing a tear from my eye. I wiped at my eyes all the way home, though I didn’t know why I was crying. Being a superhero was a marvelous honor, and I certainly didn’t need Benjamin’s help.
6
At twenty-one hundred, we gathered in the living room for the evening lesson. Ember sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me. I sat on the sagging gray couch, brushing her hair and listening to Patrick read an instructive story from one of the volumes of Leadership and Wisdom, a series that contained a moral tale for every day of the year, plus a few civilian stories and myths about heroes.
Reid sat next to Ember and glanced at her every few minutes; I was certain they were talking to each other telepathically. Marco sat next to me on the couch, knitting a scarf. The corner lamp was the only source of light, so the whole room had a dim, honeyed glow that I found comforting. It reminded me of the campfires back home.
After the story ended, Patrick closed his book with a snap. “Talk to me. What was this evening’s reading all about?”
Reid answered immediately. “It was about the authority umbrella. Everything went down the toilet after the team in the story disobeyed the elder. Even though their leader was with them and all their fathers gave their blessing, the elder said no, but they still went after their enemy. They weren’t under the umbrella anymore.”
Leave it to Reid to regurgitate the lesson at a moment’s notice. He could’ve passed as an elder’s son.
Patrick gaze fell on me, making my stomach churn. “Jillian, what are your thoughts? Would you say they were justified in their disobedience?”
I shook my head, comfortable that I knew the answer for once. “No. The team had noble intentions, but their disobedience cannot be justified because they rebelled against the elder. That’s against the natural order.”
As the words left my mouth I realized what the whole point of the evening’s reading had been: my concern for the Destructor’s life didn’t trump Patrick’s wishes. This was truly basic superhero stuff, and I’d forgotten it—again—in the heat of battle. I looked away, too embarrassed to face him.
Patrick simply nodded and looked at Reid once more. “So what should the team have done instead of going after their enemy?”
Again, Reid answered immediately. “Considering the seriousness of the threat, I think they should’ve asked their elder what to do. The team obviously wanted to embody the principles, especially decisiveness and justice, but they forgot about deference and cautiousness.”
I mentally geared up for the usual grilling about how we’d demonstrated the principles during the day, but Patrick just smiled. “That’s right. Good job.” He put the book on the coffee table—it wobbled from the book’s weight—and glanced at the wall clock. “All right, it’s late. Lights out in two hours. I’m going out tonight and I want everyone to be asleep when I get back, understood?”
I was thrilled to go to bed before midnight for once, though a tiny voice inside sneered, Yes, Father. I corrected myself immediately. The fourth, sixteenth, and seventeenth principles: reverence, joyfulness, and obedience.
We all watched as he walked out and down the hall towards his room. The whole lesson had taken no more than fifteen minutes. When we heard his door shut, Ember took the hairbrush from me, gesturing for me to switch places.
Reid stretched and rolled his neck a few times. “Did anyone else almost fall asleep during that story?”
Marco looked at him skeptically. “If you weren’t paying attention, how did you pull those answers out of your butt? And did it hurt?”
Ember swatted Marco with the hairbrush. “Don’t be jealous just because you were telling stupid jokes to me the whole time and didn’t have a good answer like Reid did.”
Reid gazed at Ember with such adoration that I was tempted to gag for effect.
Marco opened his mouth to argue but I interrupted, determined to keep the atmosphere peaceful. “What’s Patrick doing tonight? I thought he seemed kinda rushed during the lesson.”
The other three looked at each other and then to me. “I don’t know,” Marco said. The unspoken end of his sentence was…and I know better than to ask.
Marco’s vague answer notwithstanding, I’d successfully redirected the conversation away from argument. Marco picked up his knitting once more and started to undo a snarl. Reid recorded the day’s activity in our logbook. Ember brushed my hair and hummed a soft camp tune to which I’d forgotten the words.
I closed my eyes and hugged my knees, letting myself dream up half-formed fantasies about Benjamin sitting with us as a member of the team, reading his nursing textbook and drinking a café mocha.
I felt Ember pause while brushing my hair, but I was too lost in my happy daydreams to care.
An hour later, I stepped into the steaming, bubbly water in the bathtub and sighed, already feeling some of the day’s stress melting away. Sinking into the water and closing my eyes, I tipped my head back, enjoying the sensation of my voluminous hair being weightless for once.
I was so relieved to see the end of this day. Had our fight with the Destructor only been that morning? Patrick’s punishment overshadowed my memories of the bombs. Although the times with Benjamin had been thoroughly enjoyable, overall the day had been a low one. Bubble baths were one of the few luxuries afforded to me and I fully intended to take advantage of one.
I sat up in the bath and flicked open the pink bottle of shampoo, inhaling the rosy fragrance. Shampoo was still a novelty to me; growing up we didn’t really wash our hair. Boys and men cut their hair short. Girls and women brushed their hair often and kept it in braids or buns to protect it, but our hair was always limp and dull. If we wanted to wet our hair, we jumped into a creek or waited for rain.
Whenever Super teams returned to the camp for a visit I’d always marveled at how clean and neat the women’s hair was, and I’d been delighted to discover their secret. I squeezed a large amount of shampoo into my hand—waist-length hair requires a lot of shampoo—and started washing. After rinsing my hair, I scrubbed the mud, blood, and sweat off of my skin. It took several minutes, but eventually the red and black streaks were gone.
I climbed out of the bathtub and wrapped a thick towel around myself. Humming Ember’s camp tune, I opened the bathroom door to step into my bedroom.
I yelped.
Patrick was lounging on my bed, my phone in his hand. He looked me up and down and smirked. “So that’s what you look like under your ugly uniform.”
I clutched my towel tightly around myself, too horrified to speak. What was he doing in my room? Why was he looking at my phone? I was uncomfortably aware that I was wearing nothing but a towel, dripping water everywhere and shaking like a leaf. I wanted to crawl into a hole.
“Did…did you need something?” I asked once I’d found my voice.
Patrick tossed my phone on my bed. “No, I was just doing a random accountability search. Who’s Veronica again?”
I swallowed. “She’s a college student who moonlights as an escort. She passes me information about the drug trade on UGSC’s campus. I met with her last month, remember?”
Patrick seemed to accept that answer, which was the truth. I had my fib about Snitch #5 ready, but Patrick stood up and walked to the door without a word. Before he left he turned and looked at me again, giving me a lascivious grin and then shu
tting the door.
I stood there in the bathroom doorway, unable to process what had just happened. I didn’t like him seeing me so exposed and vulnerable. Marco had seen me in varying stages of undress over the past few months while attending to my injuries and I’d never felt overly modest. Yet something about Patrick’s gaze repulsed me. I ran to my dresser, pulling out pajamas and dressing at top speed.
Instead of falling into bed, I grabbed my wool blanket and squishy pillow and curled up on the floor. The hard ground was familiar and homey to me, just what I needed in times of stress like this. If there was a bug on the floor, well, that was just like home, too.
I stared at the wall, shivering. I needed to think of something to rid my mind of Patrick’s grin. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about afternoon adventures with Benjamin. Soon some of my stress leeched away, though even memories as nice as those couldn’t entirely relieve my anxiety.
My phone beeped a text message alert and with lightning-quick reflexes I grabbed it, daring to hope it was from Benjamin. Instead, I read a text from Marco, asking me again where my injuries had gone. I tutted at his careless text and deleted it, then put my phone down.
Thoughts swirled around my mind while I stared at the cracked ceiling.
Call me if you need help.
I refused to examine the sudden urge I had to reach for my phone again. I didn’t need help. I was fine. Benjamin, well-meaning as he was, had seriously missed the mark about the source of my injuries. Unfortunately, I was just going to have to let him believe that my non-existent boyfriend was a bastard.
My mouth twitched at the idea of me ever having a boyfriend.
I rolled over and closed my eyes.
Call me if you need help.
What did he know? He was completely integrated with society, unlike the rest of us Supers. It was plain that he was from one of the families who’d rejected the harsh reality of heroism and opted for the softer life. He’d never understand what it took to fight crime. To grow up under the constant eye of stern elders and trainers. To be hungry every waking hour. To memorize countless rules, traits, principles, and life formulas so that I might be the kind of righteous hero the world deserved.
Battlecry Page 5
