Shattered (The Superheroine Collection Book 1)

by Lee Winter

  That had been so damn close. Lena froze and picked at the thought. Super close. As in pinpoint accurate. Which meant it was no accident she was still alive. Heart thudding, she swallowed, and decided to suck it up and put her theory to the test. But if she was wrong?

  Well, no one lives forever.

  She stepped out of her hiding place, took ten steps, and waited, standing stock still, trying not to flinch as a volley of rocks the size of cows immediately headed her way. At the last moment, as Lena screwed up her eyes, fearing the worst, the boulders bounced harmlessly to the left and right of her, behind, and in front—everywhere except actually on her.

  Lena exhaled. Okay. Theory proved. She wasn’t about to die today. Her target wasn’t homicidal, merely pissed off. And given her rock hurler was clearly controlling the trajectory of her deadly ammunition, this meant she’d almost certainly made first contact with Shattergirl.

  Lena slowly began to move forward, plotting a straight line towards the source of the showering boulders. The noise was overwhelming. Rocks smashed, exploded, and crunched around her. Dust filled her eyes, blinding her momentarily as she edged forward.

  She could do this.

  After five minutes of shuffling, she saw a towering cliff face. Two-thirds of the way up was a flat ledge and, behind that, an inky hole in the rock wall—a cave of some sort. But that’s not what held Lena’s attention.

  A dark shadow stood on the wide ledge, like a conductor on stage, summoning boulders from the rocky floor and hurling them towards Lena with a vicious sweep and slash of its arms.

  She stared at the figure in exasperation and put her hands on her hips. “I know you’re not actually trying to hit me, so you may as well quit the theatrics,” she shouted.

  Her words echoed around the valley. For a few moments there was stillness, and then the volley became even more ferocious.

  “Give it a rest,” Lena shouted again. “I just want to talk.”

  This time the rocks rained down even closer, and several shattering splinters shot up, far too close for comfort.

  “HEY!” Lena bellowed, as one particularly sharp sliver sliced through her sleeve. “I’m not a fucking pincushion. Come on, Shattergirl! Take pity on the shreekopf!”

  Guardians had the best swear words. This particular word translated into something involving the interbreeding of dimwitted human siblings. The deluge stopped instantly.

  “Who are you?” The voice was low and indignant, and boomed around the valley before fading out.

  Lena exhaled in relief as she recognized it as belonging to her missing guardian. Identity confirmed. She took the pause in being pelted as her chance to sprint for the base of the rock face beneath Shattergirl.

  “I’m coming up,” she called out as she reached it. “I know you could turn me into road kill or cliff kill or any other kill you wanted, but can you resist until I get up there?”

  There was no response. Lena decided to take that as agreement. She wiped her hands on her pants, and studied the rock wall for hand and footholds. Satisfied there were enough, and that her climbing boots were up to the task, she began to scale it.

  It was steep to the point of almost vertical, but she’d done enough drills on rock climbing at the Facility to not be daunted. Halfway up, as her muscles were beginning to tremble, there came a scraping sound. She tilted her head as far back as she dared. The toes of Shattergirl’s black leather boots now jutted out over the cliff edge.

  Subtle.

  Lena shifted her gaze a little higher. Shattergirl peered down at her, dressed all in black, in her trademark bodysuit which highlighted her lithe form. The woman’s sheer, imposing power struck home. Lena had met plenty of talent before—hard not to in her line of work. They all had a certain something, an otherness to them. That made sense—they were otherworldly, after all. They also tended to be attractive, with their perfect skin and rippling muscles. But there was more to Shattergirl than just superficialities. The waves of power she exuded just from standing still were unnerving.

  “I only want to talk,” Lena shouted. She found a new handhold and inched higher.

  “Don’t expect me to listen.” The voice was curt and irritated, but at least Shattergirl was actually talking now.

  Lena reached for another hold and sliced her hand in a tender place. “Fucking son of a drunken frakstit piece of flaming goat turd. Ow! SHIT!”

  A strangled noise made her glance up.

  Shattergirl was crouched now, like a sprinter preparing for a race, peering over the ledge, a strange, twisted expression as she watched Lena’s progress. It took a moment to place the look, so unfamiliar was it on this guardian.

  “So my swearing amuses you?” Lena called up, readjusting her hold, giving her hand a quick shake, and ignoring the sting from the cut.

  “Maybe clumsy commons amuse me,” Shattergirl called down. “Although I’ve never heard frakstit used in quite that way before. Very creative.”

  Lena smirked. “Thank you.”

  “So you know,” Shattergirl said, sounding almost bored, “I don’t talk to journalists. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Please—give me some credit for knowing you’d sooner have a colonoscopy than talk to the media.”

  Another bite of almost-laughter from above spurred Lena to push up another few feet.

  “I don’t talk to special agents either,” Shattergirl continued. “I’m immune to whatever psy-ops scheme your government has cooked up. And it’s against the terms of the Pact.”

  “Sigh-oh…what?”

  “It means I don’t care whether your sad little nation is about to come under terrorist, chemical, or nuclear attack, or if you have photos of a hospital full of baby orphans who’ll die if I don’t sign up with you urgently. Take your evil military agenda elsewhere.”

  “Sorry to disappoint. Not here to recruit.” Lena was almost at the top. She blew her hair out of her eyes.

  “Just as well. The last agent who tried that ended up in the Baltic Sea.”

  “Good to know.” Lena paused, shaking out one tired hand and then the other. “Hell, I think my arms will be a foot longer by the time I get up there.”

  “Then your solution is simple: stop climbing.”

  “Oh, come on, aren’t you the least bit curious? I promise I’m not here to sell you magazine subs or discount timeslides.”

  Lena finally reached the lip of the cliff and, with one last effort, propelled herself over it and rolled, coming to a rest on her back.

  Shattergirl took a step forward and bent over her, blocking out the sun. Lena looked up into an imposing six-foot-tall silhouette. She was lean and toned, all straight lines from her hips to her chest, with a black shadow of hair on her perfectly shaped scalp.

  At half a foot shorter, Lena, by comparison, was pretty sure she looked like the fittest, shortest member of a gay boy band. (The one on the drums.)

  “Oh, now I see,” Shattergirl said, face inches from Lena’s.

  The guardian’s voice had far more inflection in person, Lena idly noted. The vids really didn’t do her justice. “See what?”

  “You’re right, you’re not military are you? Not with those belligerent eyes.”

  “My…what?” Lena frowned. What the hell?

  “You like to be different? No one tells you what to do? You’ve got ‘insolent’ written all over you.”

  “So much for pleasantries,” Lena drawled.

  “So, not media, not military,” Shattergirl said, ignoring her. “That means you’re a different kind of pest. Tell Talon Man he’s wasting his time.”

  “What?” A lash of fear curled through Lena at having been picked so easily.

  “Oh, you’re easier on the eyes than the last four trackers, I’ll grant you that—which isn’t hard as you’re not one of the males of your brutish species,” Shattergirl said, studying her suspiciously. “And I have to wonder why that is.”

  Brutish species? Rude much? The guardian was peering at
Lena like she reeked of skunk, as though her being of the female persuasion was all part of a fiendish plot.

  Lena laughed wryly. She sat up, loudly dusting her knees. “You think I’m some sort of Mata Hari secret agent sent by your boss? Here to dazzle you with my overpowering feminine wiles and bend you to my will? Wish my mother were alive to hear that. She’d have ‘praised Jesus’ if anyone mistook me for having actual feminine wiles.”

  Shattergirl scrutinized Lena’s body with a cool gaze. “Good point,” she drawled.

  Lena did not react to the mockery. She knew she had a soft butch look. Muscles. Boots. Androgynous to the edge of masculine. So what? Like Shattergirl didn’t? She was the freaking poster girl for the sexually ambiguous.

  Shattergirl lowered herself even closer, bringing their eyes level. Lena forced herself to return the scrutiny and refused to be baited. She threw in a cocky eyebrow lift.

  This resulted in another almost-smile at her audacity, which was quickly chased away when Shattergirl’s lips compressed into a thin line. “So why are you bothering me?” she asked. “Because I gave at the office. Repeatedly.”

  “I’m a writer,” Lena said smoothly. “And you are my next story. Before you say no, I do respectable biographies, not newspaper trash. I’m not some media hack.”

  “You want to feature Shattergirl.” The words were flat and cool, not tilting into a question at all. Her lip curled in distaste.

  “Yeah. Or is it Iblis the demon, these days? Whatever you go by.” Lena shrugged.

  “I have no control over local superstitions.”

  Lena snorted and said lightly, “Sure.”

  “You wasted your effort climbing up here,” Shattergirl said. “The answer’s no.”

  Lena didn’t twitch a muscle.

  “That wasn’t the start of negotiations. Leave or I can arrange a much faster way down.”

  “If you’d wanted me to be a bloodied wadi stain you’d have flattened me earlier. You weren’t even trying.”

  “That can change.”

  Lena laughed and reached for her backpack, pulling out a water bottle. “So you’re witty? I had no idea.”

  Shattergirl’s eyes narrowed. “How did you even find me?”

  “Had a tip-off. I guess not everyone around here buys the mythical demon line. A lot of scientists work on Socotra, for instance.”

  “Why now?”

  “The centenary of landfall’s coming up next week.”

  Shattergirl’s lips became even thinner. “So?”

  “So, a handful of biography writers have been selected by the Facility to do the bios of all fifty founders as part of a special centenary collector’s book.” All true. “I’m writing your chapter.” Not even close to true.

  “Short straw?”

  “Actually, I asked for you.”

  “Why?” Suspicion laced her eyes.

  “You’re the interesting one. The badass.” Lena offered a winning smile.

  Shattergirl’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “Spare me the fangirls,” she muttered, half to herself. “You can leave anytime.” She shot up from her crouch to standing, far faster than Lena could react. Her expression was no longer mere disdain, but arctic levels of chilly.

  Lena wished she’d thought to tuck her Dazr into the back of her pants. It was a rookie mistake to not have it close, especially around an unpredictable, severely pissed talent.

  “Look, I get it,” Lena said hastily, spreading her hands reassuringly. “And despite what you think, it’s really hard to impress me. I hate people being put on pedestals too. It’s a weirdness of our species, isn’t it? All I meant was that I like the efficient way you handle yourself. You don’t take shit from anyone. That’s refreshing given all the bloated egos out there.”

  Shattergirl frowned. “You know nothing about me. You don’t know any of us. We all wear masks.”

  Lena considered that. “I get that you’re private. Who wants the world nosing into your business? I’m the same. I respect that.”

  “Yet you write about people’s private lives.”

  “It’s not like that at all. People only share what they want to. Look, here’s the thing, I tell stories. Stories that inspire. Whether you admit it or not, you inspire a lot of people.”

  Shattergirl gave a cynical snort, but Lena pressed on. “So I’ll bottom-line it for you—all the founders are being represented in this anniversary collection. Everyone except you, which is a shame because yours is the only story that really matters.”

  “Does that line actually work on people?” She gave her a dark look.

  “It’s not a line,” Lena said. “See, the official view is that you should be represented because they can’t have the stories of forty-nine founders but not the fiftieth. Unofficially? It’s bad when the sole missing guardian is also the only black, lesbian superhero our planet has ever seen.”

  A sneer curled Shattergirl’s mouth. “I wondered when we’d get to that. You think I give a tagshart about round numbers? Or ticking some diversity box? Me not being there is Tal’s problem, not mine. Now take your pretty words and charming smirk, and go back to whichever festering city you call home.”

  The wind picked up and Lena adjusted her headscarf, relieved to have its warmth. “Nope.”

  “What?”

  “I said no.”

  “Do you understand what I could do to you? I could toss you over that ledge by twitching my little finger.”

  “Yeah, you could. So go ahead.”

  Shattergirl looked at her uncertainly. “You’re suicidal?”

  “No. I’m pointing out the obvious—you’re not a killer.”

  Shattergirl gave an aggrieved huff. “I could just fly you to the middle of nowhere and drop you there.”

  “And what if I got lost? You want my death on your conscience as I wander all over the place trying to find civilization?”

  “Fine! Fly you to the outskirts of Hadibo then.”

  “Hey, I get it. You don’t want to talk to me, and I can’t make you. But there’s just one question I want to ask you first. Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave you in peace if you want me to.”

  “Ask,” Shattergirl ground out.

  “I saw the unedited footage from demonstration day at Regent’s Park. Everyone’s abilities put on display for the media.”

  “I remember it.” Her jaw tightened noticeably.

  “You were the only person who wasn’t shown on the news reels later. Why do you think that was?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t edit the broadcasts.”

  “I have a theory. Women back then didn’t have equal rights and were treated like pariahs for even challenging the status quo. Then you rock up. Powerful, confident, strong, black. You scared the living crap out of them. Just being you was a threat to the establishment. They didn’t like the visuals, so you were dumped on the editing floor. Nothing to see here.”

  Shattergirl’s eyebrow slid up. “Was there a question in there?”

  “Sure. Here it is—how did it feel being erased from history?”

  A sour glare hit Lena.

  “That’s what I thought. So are you ready to feel that way again? Deleted from the anniversary celebrations and guardian anthology like you don’t exist and never did?”

  There was a long pause before Shattergirl replied. “It hardly matters this time. I won’t be near that spectacle, so what they do to me now is irrelevant.”

  “That’s true,” Lena nodded. “So that’s the plan? You hide out here at the edge of the world, while everyone watches the big event without you? Oh and ‘everyone’ includes all the little girls of color desperate to see their hero, all the lesbians, all the women who look up to you, who respected how you held your head high when the media challenged and belittled you for being different. They’re who need you to be acknowledged, not you. Come on, you already know you’re good.”

  Shattergirl said nothing, but Lena could tell she was listening.

  “
They’re the ones who will feel your absence like a slap,” Lena continued, thumping the ground. “Because it will be like they don’t matter, that who they are isn’t even worth a damn footnote in history if you’re rendered invisible.”

  “I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model,” Shattergirl said in irritation. “Never that.” Her fingers curled into fists, and the muscles along her arms tightened. Lena was instantly reminded of the power she wielded. It virtually crackled along her lean form. Shattergirl was simultaneously the most frightening and most aesthetically arresting person she had ever seen. Lena’s mouth went dry.

  “Yet you are a role model,” she said. “Look, we both know life will go on if you’re not there. The problem is that for the people who struggle to feel good about themselves in a world that sidelines them as ‘less than,’ your erasure will be crushing.” She let her words sink in and then added, “That’s not spin, that’s fact. And here’s another fact—all you have to do to stop that is say yes. Right now. ‘Yes. I will talk to you, Lena. I will make sure my voice is counted among the fifty.’”

  Shattergirl looked at her in distaste. “You manipulate like one of them, do you know that?”

  Lena said nothing. It was true. She was “uniquely talented at shaping the conversations and mindsets of people she has just met,” as her impressed boss wrote in her first performance evaluation. Most people, though, weren’t astute enough to notice when she did it.

  “I’m not going back,” Shattergirl said coldly. “Make sure to let Tal know that when you two next chat. I will never return.” She shot an accusing look at Lena.

  “I’ve never actually met him, you know,” Lena said truthfully. “And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” she added lazily, although she was greatly unsettled by Shattergirl’s accuracy. “You have all the power here. But just think about it. Be included—even if it’s just this one last time. Use this opportunity as a goodbye to all the commons who care about you if you like.”

  Shattergirl’s glare was even darker this time. Lena wondered if she’d laid it on a bit too thick.

  “You’re shameless,” Shattergirl muttered. But, crucially, she didn’t say no.