Shattered (The Superheroine Collection Book 1)

by Lee Winter

  “You’re not fit to be a leader,” Lena ground out in distaste. “You had a real leader and you treated her like dirt.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He stopped abruptly. “Is that what you want to hear from me?” he asked, almost eagerly. He straightened and affected a sincere voice. “I’m profoundly sorry for what we did to Nyah. She deserved better. We should have told the world who she really was years ago.”

  “Try decades ago.” Lena rolled her eyes. “And what’s all this ‘we’ crap. You ran a fucking dictatorship.”

  “Yes.” His hands trembled as the crowd’s chants grew angrier. “I did. I…a lapse of judgment. Sorry.”

  Christ, could he even hear himself? A lapse of freaking judgment? Sorry?

  “Sorry for your freefalling reputation, you mean,” Lena said sharply, “but never a thought for your own people. You haven’t even mentioned them once, have you? Not the broken ones. The drugged ones. The dead ones. Not the ones run into the ground with your expectations of perfection. That was the price you had to pay to prevent your public humiliation, in case you’re wondering. They’re who you forgot to be sorry about.” She shook her head in disgust. “What’s wrong with you? You had one job! You were supposed to protect your people, not make their lives worse. You are a failure.” She waved her Dazr indicating the alley leading to the front of the Facility. “Let’s go. It’s time you greeted your adoring fans.”

  There was a civilian committee overseeing the guardians now. Lena had seen it on the news the day it had sent her an automated message ordering her to turn in all her office-issued gear at a specified address. It had contained a charming postscript explaining that she was also fired.

  Lena thought she’d care more. She really didn’t.

  Her old boss, Bruce Dutton, had become a “temporary transitional advisor” to the civilian committee. Lena only knew that because he’d called her to a meeting at some plush hotel that the committee was operating out of until it could get its own headquarters.

  She sat opposite him on an overstuffed sofa that was covered in swirls of lime and white, while his fingers flew across the keyboard of the laptop on the coffee table between them.

  “Thanks for coming in, Silver, especially seeing you don’t work for me anymore.” He adjusted his glasses but didn’t look up. “The committee’s first order of business is to set up a meeting with Shattergirl. They want her to be the new guardian leader. She’d be a vast improvement on her predecessor. And, apparently, she has some experience.”

  Clearly someone, somewhere, had done their research on the origins of Nyah. Lena nodded, just as Dutton glanced up.

  “You don’t seem surprised,” he noted carefully.

  Lena immediately realized her mistake.

  Before she could answer, he continued. “We both know that wasn’t her at the ceremony. I’ve never seen so many teeth on Shattergirl in my life.”

  “She’s always been a smiler, that impersonator,” Lena agreed. “Or so Volcano Man tells me.”

  “Mm,” Dutton said. He tapped on his computer and then paused, eyeing her, his fingers poised over the keyboard. “I always said that if anyone could get Shattergirl, it’d be you. Clearly, you know more than you’re letting on. So, what did you find? All of it.”

  Lena stared at him, right into him, injecting every ounce of sincerity into her expression. When she spoke, her words dripped with conviction. “Nothing.” She sighed. “Just some ancient myth about an Iblis demon that the locals thought was real. Turned out to be some grumpy hermit who throws rocks at trespassers. So if anyone hears any other reports of Shattergirl from out Socotra way, it’ll just be that old story getting recycled. Waste of my time the whole trip. Put that in your report.”

  Dutton’s eyebrows lifted, challenging her, seeking out the lie. But Lena hadn’t been called Silver for nothing. She drew on everything, every skill in this twisted art she’d ever possessed, and stared him down with utter confidence. She held his gaze evenly until she saw his brown eyes soften and turn to belief. He nodded then, and his fingers shifted to the keys.

  “There was nothing of Shattergirl,” she repeated slowly as he began to type. “No trace at all.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six Months Later

  Lena adjusted the blankets and cushions on the rooftop of her apartment building and lay back. The area made for a meager and ugly sun deck by day, but that was okay, since Lena preferred to be here at night. Old air-conditioning units were hidden by a collection of lush, exotic plants.

  Yellow eyes regarded her from between the fronds of one particularly lumpy looking plant.

  “What do you want?” she asked Bernstein, the smug, pigeon-shredding cat. “I’m not feeding you. This is strictly a beer night.”

  The cat watched her sullenly, narrowing its eyes to slits, and swished its tail before disappearing back into the foliage.

  Lena turned her attention skywards. Clouds disrupted the view, but she could see a few stars peeking out. Nothing like what she’d seen on Socotra, but enough. She searched unsuccessfully for two stars, side by side, to find the one beneath it that Nyah had shown her was the pointer to Aril. She peered in vain. Maybe the stars around here were different to those she’d seen on Socotra.

  “Hey,” said a familiar voice behind her. “Got your note.”

  Lena turned and smiled up at Diane who was waving the scrap of paper Lena had stuck to her own apartment door. Mrs. Finkel’s granddaughter, intrepid war correspondent and, of late, somewhat amusing drinking buddy.

  Now, thanks to a certain world exclusive that destroyed any secrecy about trackers, Lena was free to swap war stories with Diane. Their accounts became increasingly absurd and all the more entertaining whenever they were nine sheets to the wind.

  The woman was long limbed and filled out her soft jeans nicely. Her brown hair was pulled into a careless ponytail. She zipped up her leather jacket tighter against the night air and glanced around the rooftop with interest. Her eyes widened.

  “Crap on a crust, Martin, these plants! Where’d you get them from? I’ve never seen anything like them.” She twisted her head towards a potted tree in the corner with a doily-like spread of leaves. “And that thing looks like it should be in some sort of sci-fi exhibit.”

  Lena shrugged. “You can get the darnedest things via mail order these days.”

  Diane bent over, sniffing the foliage in rapture.

  “What are you doing?” Lena laughed. “They just smell of green and dirt. Come on, pull up a cushion. Wanna beer?”

  “Sure.”

  Diane lowered herself onto the sea of cushions, crossing her booted feet at the ankles. She caught the bottle Lena tossed her way.

  “So, where were we last time?” Lena asked. “You were negotiating with rebels?”

  “Oh yeah. Right of free passage for my photographer and me. The bastard in charge stole my iPhone and said I was okay to go. I saw red. That thing is my baby. So I told him if he kept it he’d be creating an international incident because Americans don’t negotiate with kidnappers,” Diane said, deadpan.

  “Wait, you’re claiming your iPhone was a hostage? You are so full of shit,” Lena said, rolling her eyes, but she still laughed at the stupid story.

  “You should talk. Still not convinced that the Lava Eyes guardian is real. How come I never heard about him anywhere else?”

  “Talon Man’s censorship was complete.”

  “Oh that’s convenient. At least my stories are verifiable. Well, the true ones are.” Diane grinned.

  “I knew it! All lies! So tell me something true then.”

  “Something true?” Diane sipped her beer thoughtfully, and then slid her eyes over to Lena. “I think it’s true you’re Nan’s source on her exclusive… Hell, I know you are, not that she’d ever admit it. But come on. I’m amazed Talon Man never worked it out.”

  “Funny thing is that for some reason Talon Man thought I was a knuckle-dragging imbecile.”

  “We
ll, that’s weird.” Diane looked at her in confusion. “Guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s all over for him.”

  That was the understatement. In the months since Mrs. Finkel’s story, all the Facility buildings not ripped down by protestors were in the process of being dismantled. What had ruined Talon Man was the condition of the drugged guardians the day they’d been brought up, blinking and stumbling into the light. The news feeds played the footage on a loop for weeks.

  Beast Lord’s gaunt figure had been the final straw for many. He’d stopped, lifted his face to the sun, and just stood there, soaking it in, on the steps of the Facility, like he’d never seen sunlight before. Lena had appeared in the background, pressing Talon Man toward the front of the chanting crowd, with a Dazr in the small of his back, to where soldiers were milling. The guardian leader’s head had stayed bowed as she forced him into the open.

  Those brazen claims that this was all just a bitter campaign against him dissolved the moment he locked eyes with the sunken-faced guardian who’d once terrified the people of Oymyakon, Siberia. Guilt radiated from Talon Man’s face. Then shock as he took in his wasted, thin condition.

  Beast Lord’s once-proud eyes filled with angry tears and he said only three words to Talon Man, his voice choked and rough from lack of use, “I hate you.”

  It had been the front-page headline in enormous, 120-point letters on dozens of newspapers worldwide the next day.

  The shamed leader had been under indefinite house arrest since. The civilian committee had offered all the other guardians their existing jobs, with paid vacations and every other benefit they could imagine, if they still wanted them. Some stayed and could still be seen on the daily news feeds saving lives. The rest of the guardians had scattered to the winds.

  Or so it had seemed.

  Lena had set herself up as a survivalist instructor, and many of her clients turned out to be guardians, curious to learn how to live off the grid from none other than Silver herself. It was surprisingly fulfilling work. Turned out there was something else she was good at.

  “So,” Diane said, eyeing her curiously. “Are you Nan’s source?”

  Lena smiled and took another swallow of her beer.

  “You have a dreadful poker face, especially when you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk!” Lena protested.

  “Allegedly.” Diane regarded her for a moment. “You have lived one batshit crazy life, Lena Martin. You’re damned impressive.”

  “Not really. It’s just life,” Lena said. “Now you—you’ve been living the crazy. That tinpot dictator interview? Gold.”

  Diane sighed. “Wish I’d had your gift of the gab then. I got stuck in a jail for three weeks while they decided whether my questions had been impertinent or not.”

  “You? Impertinent?” Lena asked. “Shocking.”

  “I know, right?” Diane said, feigning surprise. “I was totally mystified.”

  They both laughed. It felt good. This felt good. Friendship? Laughter? Since when did Lena do this? Not before Socotra, she knew that much.

  “I’m glad we met,” Lena suddenly said. She stared accusingly at her beer, astonished she’d said that out loud.

  Diane glanced at her, not milking the admission for once, and tilted her beer bottle at her. “Back at ya.”

  Lena could see the sincerity in her eyes, laced with something else. Something more. A hopefulness. She focused hard on her beer, drawing her thumb down the side, creating condensation trails. Oh! No way.

  Why not, though? a little voice asked in the back of her head. The idea of having something more with Diane shouldn’t be that crazy. It’s just they were so relaxed together, Lena hadn’t thought about it. Before Socotra, she’d never had a thing with someone she called a friend. She frowned at her beer bottle. Then again, she’d never really had friends before either. Hmm. She’d kick this around later, when she was sober.

  Lena broke the silence after a few moments. “Thanks for stargazing with me, stupid as it is with these skies.”

  Diane glanced up. “Nah, it’s a relaxing diversion. So spill, why do you stargaze?”

  “A friend put me onto it. Thinks I need more hope in my life.”

  Diane’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled broadly. “Is she, like, seventy-one and makes crap coffee?”

  “No. Not your nan.”

  “Ah. A special friend then. Got it.”

  Lena ignored the innuendo, her gaze tracking a shifting cloud.

  Diane considered her for a moment. “You miss her. Your friend.”

  “I do. She’s like no one else on Earth.” Or off it. “We were there for each other when we both needed it. We had to get our butts kicked out of our ruts. But it’s worked out the way it’s meant to. For both of us.” Lena lifted her beer to her lips. “She’s happy now.” She swallowed, feeling the tasty brew spill across her tongue.

  Diane nodded and her eyes became unfocused. “The special ones stay with us, don’t they? Like chapters in the book of our life. We look back from time to time and remember how things were. It’s important. Our sense of who we were comes back. For good and for bad.”

  “That’s true.”

  They lay in a relaxed silence until Bernstein knocked over one of the potted plants and yowled balefully, scaring Lena into the middle of next week.

  “Damn it, cat!” Diane said, wincing as she scooped up the caterwauling interloper. “I’ll take him. Sorry. I’ll raid Nan’s pantry while I’m dropping him home. We definitely need snacks. Be right back.”

  “Sure.”

  Lena settled back and contemplated the skies when a dark shadow rose up from behind the rooftop.

  “You’re late,” Lena said, climbing to her feet.

  “I had a storm to go around. And you looked busy.” Nyah floated over the lip of the roof and then landed. She wore jeans, boots, and a thick, padded, long-sleeved shirt. “I circled the block until you weren’t.”

  Lena smiled as she saw what she was holding. “What have you brought this month?”

  Nyah held out a knotty, leafy green plant with a bulging trunk, and set it down next to the others. She stood back, regarding it, then leaned forward, rotating the pot a few degrees. “Dorstenia gigas. It’s a rare caudex-forming species.”

  At Lena’s glazed look, Nyah added with a fond eye roll, “It has a fat trunk. Needs mild weather. Try not to kill it. The care details are on the tag.”

  “Thanks,” Lena said. “Your klava’s in the usual spot. Don’t drink it all at once.”

  Nyah picked up the brick-sized wrapped box that had been tucked safely under the lip of the roof edge. “Excellent. I’m all out.”

  Their eyes met knowingly. They were well aware that Nyah could just ask Lena to source her a klava plant from the Facility’s former gardener so she could grow her own beans on Socotra. But that would mean Nyah would have no need for regular visits. The fact she had never asked for the plant warmed Lena’s heart immensely.

  “You look well,” Nyah said, after a pause. “Life—and living—suits you.”

  “Could say the same for you. How’s Dr. Larsen? Still into her endemic thingies?”

  “Of course. What’s not to love?”

  “Love, huh?” Lena asked suggestively. “Well it’s to be expected. Larson’s like nerd catnip to you science types. Nice legs too.”

  Nyah rolled her eyes, but a smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “We’re not actually…” She trailed off. “Not…yet.”

  There was longing in her words and Lena’s breath caught, surprised. “Yet?” she prodded.

  Nyah’s brows drew together. “She made an offer that was extremely flattering. I-I…actually find myself seriously considering it.”

  Lena picked apart what she wasn’t saying and suddenly understood her hesitation. “You’re considering something serious, you mean. That’s…wow. That’s great. This is…it’s not before time, right?”

  Nyah’s eyes warmed in agreement. Instead o
f answering, she said, “Anna says hello. How’s your war correspondent? Still telling ridiculous tall tales?”

  “Yeah. Still making me laugh.”

  “I’m glad.” Nyah looked it. “You need that. It’s important.”

  A thought struck Lena, and she shook her head in amazement.

  “What?”

  “Who’d have thought it?” Lena said. “Us, realizing that maybe, just maybe, we need people.”

  “Hm. This outlandish theory doesn’t sound like us at all.”

  Lena grinned. “I notice you didn’t disagree with me, though. I’d never admit it to another living soul, but I think we’re going soft.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Nyah said, eyes crinkling. “By the way, your amusing beer companion is clomping her way back up your stairs as we speak.” She straightened and shifted the brown-wrapped parcel firmly under one arm. “I should go.”

  Lena hesitated for a moment, then pulled her into a brusque hug. It was brief, but she hoped it conveyed all the gratitude and care that she felt for someone who had changed everything. She was still terrible at hugs.

  “Stay longer next time,” she told Nyah firmly. “We’ll catch up properly. Shoot the breeze. Mock the shreekopfs, the usual.”

  Nyah offered her a slow, genuine smile. “I’d like that. It may be a while, though. We’ve possibly found a new species of succulent. Anna’s thrilled.”

  “Ooh, exciting.”

  “Yes. It is.” Nyah ignored the sarcasm, joy filling her eyes.

  Lena’s breath caught at the breathtaking change.

  Nyah tilted her head towards the door. “Your reporter’s about to open the door.”

  “Okay.” Lena stepped back with a grin and patted her arm. She left her fingers there and squeezed, appreciating the solid connection, wanting to convey her earnestness. “I’m really happy for you. Stay safe. Be happy.”

  Their eyes locked. “You too,” Nyah said softly.

  Lena stepped back. Nyah smiled at her, lifted her chin, and in an instant, her friend was gone.

  Friend. Lena shook her head at the mere idea of it. This friendship business was getting habit forming. She followed Nyah’s dark streak along the horizon until she was gone.