Shattered (The Superheroine Collection Book 1)

by Lee Winter

  She was shooting upwards.

  Wait, what?

  She was shooting upwards!

  Adrenalin and shock coursed through her as she tried to make sense of it.

  Nyah!

  She’d been about to die. It had been inevitable. Instead, she could feel another pounding heart next to her own and smell a faint klava scent from the pursed lips next to Lena’s wet cheek.

  Every part of her felt weak from relief. Her arms ached from where Nyah’s fingers dug harshly into the flesh. Water coursed off Lena’s face, and she shut her eyes to keep it out. She could hear thunder, and a brilliant flash of lightning seared her eyes through her lids.

  There was a sudden shift midair that startled her into opening her eyes. They were falling. The sound of a shuddering intake of breath against her skin was even more unsettling.

  “Air pocket,” Nyah said grimly. “Hold on. Correcting.”

  The falling stopped, and Lena’s stomach lurched chaotically as they were now hurtling at breakneck speed back up, and then over the cliff edge. Then she was lowered outside Nyah’s cave. Lena’s legs did a comical little wobble the moment they touched solid ground.

  “What the hell were you doing?” Nyah demanded in irritation as she stepped back immediately. Clearly touching Lena for even that long had been unsavory. “You should have been halfway out of the wadi by now. Instead, I find you flapping about from my cliff like a flag. You didn’t even get to the bottom?”

  Lena didn’t answer as she was busy wriggling her toes in her boots to verify this was even real. How was she even alive? Lena ran trembling fingers through her hair, slicking it back, out of her eyes. Then she smiled as a crazy, giddying elation hit her. “Actually, I’d have gotten to the bottom in, oh, three seconds flat if you hadn’t shown up.”

  Nyah gave a disdainful snort. “True. And you’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” Lena muttered as Nyah’s snide tone reminded her of all the acrimony from their fight. She hated feeling in anyone’s debt, especially Nyah’s, but she didn’t want to start round two either. She didn’t have the strength for it. Her shaky legs felt ready to drop her. “How long do the storms around here last?”

  “The usual storm systems last a few hours. However, the after effects of them can be felt for a day or so.”

  “Shit.” Lena shivered.

  Nyah looked out at the weather grimly. “But this isn’t a usual storm. Judging by the air pressure shifts and insanely fast wind speeds, we’re getting licked by the edge of a cyclone. I experienced similar weather conditions during Iiesar Tashabalaan.”

  “Say what?”

  “It was a cyclone. Come inside,” Nyah sighed. “You’re soaked, and it’s too cold to discuss in the middle of a storm.”

  Lena followed her into the darkness, her pupils taking a few moments to adapt. Rocky formations of rare beauty concertinaed across the high cave ceiling, creating the effect of a natural cathedral. She gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

  “I know,” came Nyah’s disembodied voice from ahead. “Why do you think I chose it?”

  Lena stepped past a pair of buckets that were catching water dripping from the overhead stalactites. Nice. Water was sorted for the next few days at least, given how much the buckets had already collected.

  “This way,” Nyah said, leading her into a central chamber.

  A fire was flickering in the middle of the area, and Lena gratefully knelt before it, warming her frozen hands. Her eyes darted around the rest of the cavern. It was neat and ordered. A pile of tinned food on makeshift shelves sat along one rock wall. Stacks and stacks of books and journals were beside those. She squinted. Pretty much all science related. Plant bibles. Botany guides. Figures.

  A roomy cot, snugly lined with pelts and with a folded blanket on top, sat in one corner. It was a pretty cozy set-up, if cave chic was your thing.

  “Iiesar Tashabalaan is what the locals called Cyclone Chapala,” Nyah said, rooting around for and then tossing her a rough towel. “Dry your hair first,” she ordered, sitting opposite her in front of the fire.

  Lena obeyed, feeling instantly better as her head warmed up.

  “It hit in 2015 and was the second strongest tropical cyclone in history out here. Winds were 150 miles per hour. It flattened Socotra. The air out there now feels much the same. It’s not going to be pretty when the worst of it goes by. I suspect it will be much, much worse in fact.”

  “How bad was it last time?” Lena began to relax, the fire warming her as relief flooded her body. She dried her hair quickly, then slung the towel around her neck.

  “Five hundred homes flattened. Thousands evacuated. And that wadi you were heading for? It became a roaring river. I came to see whether you’d been swept to your death or were about to be, and found you still stuck on the cliff. Your mountain-goat reputation is taking a bit of a battering.”

  “It was slippery out there,” Lena mumbled. “I couldn’t climb down at my usual gallop.”

  “Mm.”

  “So does this happen often? Just…BAM! A cyclone comes out of nowhere?”

  Nyah shrugged. “We’re so far off the grid and out of the news loop that large weather events can sneak up without warning.” She glanced towards the cave entrance. “The whole island will know how dangerous this one really is in about an hour or so.”

  Lena frowned. “But you’re the only one on Socotra who knows it’s going to be really bad, right?”

  “So?”

  “So—you have to warn them it’s coming! People have to be told to seek proper cover.” Alarm filled Lena at the thought of the vulnerable locals.

  “No.”

  “No?” Lena stared at her in astonishment.

  “I’m retired,” Nyah said, her tone mocking. “Remember?”

  “But the people! They’re at risk—and all you have to do is tell them it’s going to be as nasty as before. Come on! Do you really hate us so much?”

  “I already explained it won’t be ‘as nasty,’” Nyah said in a measured tone. “It will be far worse. The winds are already considerably stronger, and it’s not even made landfall yet.”

  “You’re just going to do nothing? What are you so afraid of that you’d prefer to cower in here?”

  “Are you quite finished?” Nyah’s voice was sharp.

  “Not yet,” Lena said hotly. “Look, if you don’t care about anything else, I know you care about science. At least save the scientists who are out in the eco-camps. They’ll have no protection at all—they’ll be blown away. I know where they are. I can show you,” Lena reached for her FacTrack, still buried in her backpack.

  “No,” Nyah said coldly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Lena stared at her in complete confusion. “Why not? You saved me.”

  “A move I’m rapidly starting to regret. Now stop moving away from the fire. You’re still soaked. It’d be a wasted effort if I saved you only for you to die of pneumonia.”

  “God forbid you broke a sweat for nothing.”

  “Exactly,” Nyah said. “It’d be inconvenient as hell.”

  Lena didn’t speak for some time, lost in her thoughts, trying and failing to understand the contradictory woman. What was her game, anyway? She’d save Lena but no one else? Was she so deeply stuck in her comfort zone that she didn’t ever leave it?

  “Any more klava in there?” Nyah asked, breaking her reverie, gesturing at Lena’s bag.

  Lena dug into her backpack. She tossed the small container to her. “This stuff is addictive. You know that, right?”

  “It won’t kill me,” Nyah said lightly. “There’s much more dangerous tagshart out there. Like trackers, for example.”

  Lena snorted and resumed clawing through her backpack, looking for some dry clothes to change into. “And cyclones stalking defenseless people.” She pulled out a pair of thin socks. Well, it was a start. She deftly replaced her socks and saw, out of the corner of her eye, Nyah turn sharply to look at her.

  “I
saved your life.”

  “That took less than a minute. And it would have taken you five minutes at most to warn the town and another two to get to the scientists.” Lena lay her wet socks on a rock near the fire to dry.

  “You think a random person could just sidle up to some scientists and claim that she sensed that the air currents from three thousand feet up matched those of a cyclone, and they had to take secure cover urgently? Assuming they didn’t recognize me, they’d look at me like I was delusional. And if they somehow did recognize me out here in the middle of nowhere…” She frowned at the thought. “I will not take that chance.”

  She put some water on to boil and measured out klava into her mug.

  “So that’s what this was?” Lena peered at her. “You don’t even try because it might blow your cover? Shit, I could figure out a great story for you. They’d never think you were a guardian.”

  “Oh yes, because you are so very good at lying, aren’t you, Lena?”

  “You don’t actually care about commons at all, do you?”

  “If I didn’t, you’d be busy decorating the wadi floor right now.”

  “Then why not try?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Yet more cryptic crap? You’re so annoying.” She glared at the flames.

  “At least I don’t manipulate others.” Nyah stirred the mug vigorously.

  “And I don’t cause deaths I can easily prevent,” Lena said. “I try to help at least.”

  “I did!” Nyah snapped, slapping down the spoon. “I did. Last time. During Iiesar Tashabalaan. I tried.”

  Lena shot her a doubtful look but said nothing.

  “I’m not invincible,” Nyah added with a dark look. “Far from it.”

  Shaking her head, Lena said, “I know that.”

  “Do you? Really?”

  Waves of frustration came off the other woman. Lena studied Nyah as the guardian sipped her klava. Her face was tight and angry. There was deep disappointment there too. And something else. Embarrassment? “What happened?” Lena finally asked. “Last time?”

  “Nothing. It was pointless. They didn’t need me.”

  “Trying to save people isn’t pointless. Of course they needed you.”

  Nyah’s expression darkened. For a long moment Lena thought the conversation had ended until Nyah’s head suddenly lifted. “Last time I knew there were thousands trying to get to safety. You felt us drop suddenly when I was saving you today?”

  Lena nodded.

  “It was the same then. The air turbulence was volatile. One minute I’m at three thousand feet, the next one thousand. The shifts are unpredictable in a cyclone. I could see where I wanted to fly, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get there. It was exhausting. It felt like I was being thrown about in a tumble drier, over and over. I might be able to fly, Lena, but I can’t defy a cyclone. It was insanity to even try.”

  “Did the people…” Lena swallowed.

  “As I said, it turned out they didn’t need me.” Nyah gave a hollow laugh. “Seriously, they really didn’t. All of them lived. They know their island better than I do. There was only one person who came close to death when lightning struck nearby. And that was the only person foolish enough to risk being in the middle of a cyclone in the first place—me. So, lesson learned. Never again.”

  “But…”

  “No.” Nyah stared at her intently. “I am not immortal. Lightning scorches guardian flesh as easily as yours, as I was reminded that day. I am also not bulletproof or gale-proof or anything else. All I can do is fly, Lena. Fly and throw heavy things. That’s it.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was risky even saving your life just now. The air pressure dropped suddenly twice on the way down, once while I was shattering that boulder you’d displaced and again on the way up. I very nearly dashed us both to death against that cliff.”

  “Oh…” Lena repeated, and the memory of the lurching sensation she’d felt during her rescue returned. The thought she might have been saved briefly, only for her and Nyah to be hurled to their deaths moments later was chilling. “I had no idea.”

  “No,” Nyah said. “You didn’t. You just assumed I’m some egocentric, alien freak immune to the forces of nature who willfully chose not to help.”

  Lena felt ashamed. “Thank you,” she said, earnestly this time.

  Nyah watched her for a few moments, and then closed her eyes as she drained the last of her drink. “I still haven’t decided why I risked my life for you. A tracker.”

  “Because when it comes down to it, you’re a good person. Even if I’m not.”

  Nyah placed the cup on the ground. “Do you actually believe that?”

  Lena hadn’t expected that question. She’d just said it because she was sure it was what Nyah thought—more mirroring behavior. She kept doing it without thinking these days. But did she believe it? Lena hesitated. “I’m not sure,” she finally admitted.

  Nyah merely nodded, and the edge of her mouth curled into the hint of a smile. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

  CHAPTER 7

  In a small nook past the main cavern, Lena changed into dry clothes and then returned to lay her wet things on rocks near the fire.

  Nyah, who had retreated to her bed, eyed her black boy shorts, bra, jeans, shirt, and socks laid out. Lena half expected a snide comment about how she wasn’t running a laundry but Nyah said nothing, returning to her Handbook of the Yemen Flora.

  Lena stretched out on her sleeping bag and reviewed her day so far. It had gone from explosive to terrifying to death-defying and now sort of weirdly tedious. She was exhausted yet wired, her mind leaping from one abstract thought to the next with dizzying speed, trying to make sense of a muddled mess of experiences.

  She considered how long she’d be stuck in here for. That flash flood had been as impressive as it was sudden. How long would there be a river down there?

  Lena remembered where her Dazr had ended up. Damn, she’d have to submit a DT7-10 Lost Equipment Report when she got back. Great. Wherever it was, it was swimming with the fishes now. Or the fissures. She snorted softly to herself. She rubbed her hands over her face, pressing the heels into her eye sockets. Hell. She must be delirious if she was doing bad word puns.

  She missed hotdogs, Lena suddenly decided, dropping her hands to her stomach. And Mrs. Finkel’s meatballs. She was as skilled at whipping up those as she was disastrous at making coffee. Whenever Lena had returned from an away assignment, her neighbor would bring around a ceramic dish bursting with rich, bold Italian aromas, covered in a cloth that she would whip off like a magician’s scarf.

  Lena knew feeding her was just an excuse to reminisce with her about the good old days on the news desk or her beloved granddaughter, Diane. But Lena didn’t entirely object to the company or the conversation—after all, the meatballs were very good.

  Her thumbs drummed her stomach, and she strained to work out how far away the storm was now. But it was impossible to tell. All she could hear outside was the distant roaring wind, a perfect wall of white noise. She shifted her focus to the cave.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  Trickle. Trickle.

  Lena turned her head, scanning the walls. Where did the water gather that slid down various unseen fissures in the cavern? She had heard it trickling in several places before but where did it go? Would it flood in here if it rained too much outside? No, that wasn’t likely. Nyah had already been through one cyclone here. She’d hardly make her home in a flood zone.

  Nyah. Her eyes slid to the left to observe her contrary cave-mate. At least Lena was no longer fighting with her. That was an improvement. And she had saved Lena’s life, which gave the guardian an automatic free pass on everything today. Still, Lena was greatly unsettled over their no-holds-barred confrontation earlier. That was a nice word for what it really was—a brawl. They’d both been vicious and had drawn blood, but only Lena’
s had showed.

  It was uncomfortable being so near someone who’d effortlessly done that to her. Lena’s control was usually much stronger. How had she made herself vulnerable? How had Nyah uncovered her weaknesses so easily? How had Lena let her see them in the first place? She was usually so much better at this.

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth at that thought, and stared at Nyah reading on her bed. It had been an hour since they’d last spoken. Lena didn’t usually crave conversation, but she hated oppression more. Feeling trapped. There was literally nowhere else to go.

  “Good book?” she asked.

  “Adequate. Although what commons don’t know about botany would fill a much larger one.”

  Lena considered that. Was it frustrating being unable to share her superior knowledge? What had Nyah said? She missed the collegial atmosphere. It was more than that, though. Her eyes had burned with regret when she’d uttered those words.

  Lena wondered if that meant she was lonely. Intellectually at least, if not emotionally.

  “What?” Nyah muttered, not shifting the book from her face. “You’re staring.”

  How did she do that?

  “Are you lonely?” Lena asked suddenly. She blinked, astonished at herself.

  “Are you?” Nyah shot back acerbically.

  “Too busy to be lonely,” Lena said glibly. “Always on the go.”

  “Mm. So many guardians to harass, so little time? And what of when you’re not busy making our lives miserable? When you’re home in your bed?”

  Lena considered that. “I enjoy my own company. Don’t you?”

  “Immensely.” Nyah slapped the book closed. “Why all this concern about my social life?”

  “It’s my brush with death talking,” Lena suggested, not entirely sure herself. She propped her head up on one hand. “Are you really retired? Or is it temporary? Like a vacation?”

  “A vacation,” Nyah said with a derisive snort. “I’ll let you know when I have my first one.”