The Light of Redemption

by Natalie Damschroder

  I twisted my wrist and cupped my right hand, then let out some of the light I’d just collected. A small ball appeared in the center of my palm.

  She oohed. “Can I touch it?”

  My hand inched back in reflex. I’d never had anyone ask before. But I knew it didn’t burn, because I used it like a rope to bind the criminals I stopped. “Sure. Be careful.”

  She reached out slowly, lowering the pads of her fingers onto the ball. It wasn’t solid light the way it was in the bulb. It was more like a mini sun, with solidity at the center, swirls and waves across the lower surface, and a thinner corona that contained the glow at the outside. It illuminated the area around us, casting stark shadows against the plaster walls.

  “What does it feel like?” I asked her. “I’ve never had anyone to ask before.”

  She glanced up. “Your parents? Best friend when you were a kid?”

  I shook my head. “It was weird, and nothing anyone else could do. I wasn’t telling any of my friends. My parents found out, of course, but they weren’t, I don’t know, interested in being involved.”

  Her fingers curved, as if she wanted to pick it up. “It’s so weird! I don’t know if I can even describe it. It’s warm, like a mug of coffee or something, but not intense. It doesn’t burn. It’s not really hard, but I can’t move my fingers into it. And I can’t pick it up.” She shifted to try to slide her fingers between the ball of light and my hand. “I can’t affect it. Like we exist in two different planes or something.”

  “Interesting.” I tossed the ball up, the way I had the other night, and held it in the air over us. Now we could see the whole room we were in, as if the overhead lights were actually on. “Watch.” I stretched the ball, flattening until it became a sheet stretching across the whole office. Now the illumination was uniform, reaching into all corners. The only shadows were at the edges of our feet.

  “My God, Harmony, I had no idea. It’s so beautiful!” She closed her eyes and basked in the light for a moment. “How can it be the same light coming through those bulbs?”

  “It’s not.” I drew it back to me and made a rod out of it, twirling it like a baton, then cast it out to spiral around her, rope-like. “You know light behaves simultaneously as a particle and a wave, right?”

  “Sure, if you say so.” She was giggling and watching the light swirl around her like a giant ribbon.

  “The light in the bulbs is generated by electricity. When I take it, it’s pure and raw. Self-sustaining. So it looks different.” I didn’t understand it any more than that. I compressed the particles and manipulated electrons—or something. I had no idea, but the researcher in me had tried to figure it out for a while. “I can send it back.” The lights resumed their normal glow. “Or I can dissipate it.” I pulled all the light from one bulb, formed the ball, levitated it, and then concentrated on breaking the bonds until it faded into tiny sparks, snuffed out. “It will dissipate naturally if I leave it behind. Once I’m out of a certain range, my control is lost and it just returns to its individual parts.”

  “That doesn’t really make sense, you know.”

  I shrugged. “How does superhero anything make sense? There was a guy in Chicago who could phase parts of his body through solid matter.”

  “Touché.” She looked from one light to the other, fists propped on her hips. “So why doesn’t this light back up?”

  “I dissipated its light.”

  “But there’s still electricity running to it.”

  “If you could see the bulb, you’d see the filament is broken. It’s like the light is tethered to the source, but once I break it up, it breaks the source, too.”

  “But you can’t take light from the sun.”

  “Right. I assume because of the distance to the source? I don’t know.”

  “Okay.” She slapped her hands together. “What do you want to do first? You seem pretty adept already.”

  “I’m fine using it against people.” I cringed. “Bad guys. I don’t use it against— Well, anyway, stopping bad guys is one thing. But I want to be able to save people, too. Remember that building collapse in DC last year?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  That meant she’d tuned out when I talked about it. “HQ combined their powers to rescue survivors. The empath could see where the auras were. One of the guys was super-strong, and one had great endurance, so they could haul the rubble away. Their summoner could draw the debris through the air, away from the site. I can’t do any of that.”

  “You could send light where it didn’t exist, right? Into cavities and crevices.”

  “So can an electrician. I want more.” I pulled the light from the other bulb and went past her into the main warehouse. “The light is solid enough to confine a drug dealer until the police get there. So why can’t I use it to do other physical things?”

  “Have you tried?”

  I was ashamed to say that I hadn’t, really. But then I lifted my chin. So what? I’d been learning, testing. Acclimating. Gaining confidence. Making a difference, even if it was in a limited way. “That’s what we’re here for now.”

  She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes.

  “What?”

  “It just seems to me there’s someone who’d be better at this than me. Someone who’s, I don’t know, been a superhero?”

  “Yeah. He said no.”

  “What?” She scowled. “Why?”

  “He pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “Who did? How did you—” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Conn Parsons? You talked to him?”

  “Emailed. Which was dumb, because it’s easier to say no when you’re not looking at the person.”

  “Yea-ah.”

  “I don’t need him. You’ll be great.”

  “Okay, fine. If you say so.” She scanned the area. “There’s not much here to work with.”

  “Down here.” I led her to the other end of the warehouse, where a lot of stuff had been left behind or dragged in after the place was abandoned. Some equipment I had no idea the purpose of. Lots of pallets, broken and whole, some rotted or chewed into sawdust in spots. Mildewed cardboard, lengths of pipe, all piled haphazardly.

  Except . . . it wasn’t. Not all of it. Angie stopped at my shoulder, unease becoming palpable. “Is someone living here?”

  It sure looked like it. Pallets had been piled in the shape of a bed, and an old futon cushion rested on top of them. A blanket that looked fairly new lay rumpled in the middle of the cushion. A battered cooler sat next to the bed, a wet stain beneath it showing that it leaked from one corner. On top of the cooler was a glass iced tea bottle, half-full of liquid and floating cigarette butts, and next to that was a stack of old paperback books. Like, William Golding and Daphne du Maurier old.

  “Homeless person? Found a way in like you did?”

  I shook my head. “Sark told me they don’t come out this far. No running water, no access to discarded food or donations or anything. And it’s colder in the winter.”

  “I wish I’d overheard that conversation.” She chuckled. “Let me guess. He was checking out books at the library, and you managed to casually strike up a conversation with a police officer about an empty warehouse six miles away, without making him suspicious of your motives.”

  “It helped that I’d seen him arresting a drunk and handing out a sleeping bag coat at the same time. Gave me a starting point.” It had also inspired me to donate to The Empowerment Plan, the non-profit who created the EMPWR coat that converted to a sleeping bag. Which in turn inspired Officer Sark to ask me out, but I’d said no because of everyone in town, he was second most likely to figure out my identity if he got too close.

  “Someone’s been using it.” She gripped my sleeve with a couple
of fingers. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Not yet.” I’d spotted something on the other side of some big broken machine. A folding table had been set up, spread with Bunsen burners and flasks, with glass containers of a variety of powders and stuff that looked like leaves or herbs or even crystals.

  “What the hell is that? A meth lab?”

  “I don’t think so.” Not that I had any clue what a meth lab looked like, but this stuff didn’t look like it was going to blow anything up. Plus, there was no protective gear. Didn’t they need to wear, like, hazmat suits or something? “We should take pictures.”

  “And do what with them? Give them to Sark? Tell him why we were here?” She plucked at my sleeve. “Let’s go.”

  I balked. We’d come here so I could train, and that had been a non-starter. Maybe this was nothing, but I couldn’t just ignore it. What if it was a dangerous new drug and I did nothing, and next thing I knew they were selling it on the middle school playground?

  “Go ahead to the car. I’ll be right behind you.” I’d left my bag near the door where we came in, so I ran over to grab it and get my phone. Angie hesitated before going out. “It’s okay. I’ll be quick.”

  “You’d better be. I’ll wait down at the stairs.”

  “Okay.” I ran back over to the table and snapped a bunch of photos, including closeups of each glass container. But my phone was inexpensive, and the shots weren’t going to be clear enough to identify the contents. I rummaged in my bad, looking for something I could use to collect samples. In the bottom, I found an old pill case I’d used when I was on a supplement kick last year. It had fourteen compartments, more than enough. I snapped open several of the covers and dumped the stale immunity boosters and multivitamins into my bag.

  One of the tools on the table was a long-handled, teaspoon-sized measuring spoon. I lifted the top on the first container, scooped the white powder inside, and dumped it into a box, snapping the lid closed. Some powder clung to the spoon. “Dammit.” I wasn’t exactly collecting uncorrupted evidence for the police lab, but if I could get this stuff tested, I didn’t want to mix it. Back into my bag I dove, looking for a tissue or something. Best I could do was an elasticized head scarf. I wiped the spoon clean, then scooped the stuff that looked like tea leaves. It moved faster after that, and I’d collected seven of the specimens when I heard the door bang open.

  I was about to call to Angie that I needed a couple more minutes when a man spoke. “Fookin’ door. Get that bloody well handled, yah? M tired a breakin’ my shoulder every time I come in.”

  As fast as I could, I replaced the spoon, lowered the metal lid onto the container I’d been collecting from, grabbed my bag, and ducked deeper into the shadows behind the broken machine. I couldn’t hear the response of whoever the British guy had been yelling at, but the door slammed closed, spawning another rant about how much harder it was to get open from the inside. He finished with a stream of truly impressive names. I felt bad for the other guy.

  While that was going on, I stripped off my tunic and stuffed it into my bag, then drew up my hood and added my mask. I still held the light from the second bulb in the office, drawn deep so it wasn’t visible. Hopefully, it would be enough to get me out of here if I needed it. And I had little doubt I would. I had cover for a few seconds, but as soon as they reached this side of the building, I’d be stuck.

  I had to hide my stuff. It would hinder me, and if they caught me, they’d not only have my ID, but reason to kill me on top of it, with the photos and specimens I’d collected. Assuming they were the killing type, which I had to assume.

  So where to stash the bag that they wouldn’t find it? The machine had a cover, but if I moved it, the dust and grime would be disturbed, and that would be like pointing an arrow right at it. I couldn’t stash it underneath, because anyone lying on the futon could see it.

  Footsteps scraped, coming nearer, and I heard the snick and snap of a lighter. I eased around the end of the machine, and at my feet was a big hole in the floor. I crouched and stuck my hand in, letting a tiny bit of light bleed out. Something had smashed through the concrete here, and then the edges had crumbled over time. There was room to stuff the bag inside and over, out of sight. Then I eased a few pallet shards over the hole to hide it.

  Now I could breathe easier, knowing that risk had been mitigated. They could still find it after I got out, but hopefully they wouldn’t before I could come back and retrieve it all.

  “Didja talk to Dyson?” the first guy asked. “Where the bloody hell is my—” He cut off, apparently having found whatever he was looking for.

  I should go now. I had no visual, but it was better to move and keep my small surprise advantage. I just wished I had more light.

  One, two, three. Bursting out of a crouch, I took off across the cavernous warehouse, my gymnastics shoes keeping my footfalls light and mostly silent. I was halfway across the building when I heard the shout. A weak beam of light swung past me, shaky, followed by the ominous whine of a passing bullet. He had a gun with a silencer. Shit.

  I ran faster, zigzagging, and reached without looking to grab the glow out of his flashlight.

  “Hey.”

  I spun and flung the light back at them. I had enough control to start the move before I pinpointed their locations, and then shift the light to flare in front of their faces, blinding them. And then I ran faster.

  “Fookin A, Kyle, get her!”

  Oh, that was so not good. He was either super stupid, using his friend’s name, or didn’t care because they were going to kill me no matter what.

  Another bullet whined overhead, not even close to hitting me. And then I was at the door. The swollen, sticking door that Kyle had slammed, making it harder to open from the inside. I yanked on the handle but couldn’t budge the damned thing. I didn’t have time to keep trying. A ladder hung from the wall about ten feet to my right, and I ran to that and started to climb.

  “Holy shit, Wig, that’s Eclipse!”

  Kyle was American, and maybe local, since he knew it was me.

  “I fookin’ know it’s Eclipse, you arse. Shoot her!”

  At the top of the ladder was a small platform that would offer me next to no cover, so I didn’t bother cowering against the wall. Dammit, I was Eclipse. I was a superhero, and I was going to act like it.

  They skidded to a halt about twenty feet away. One guy was tall and scrawny with overly long, tangled hair sticking out from under a beanie. The other was shorter, a little cleaner-looking, and aiming an ugly black pistol at me.

  I whipped out the light I’d held back and concentrated on making a lens shape between me and them. I made it as dense as possible while spreading wide enough to cover me. But then I couldn’t see through it clearly, so I didn’t know what they were doing.

  Well, shooting. I could hear, and the suppression on the pistol had already started to fade. The gun snapped twice, and Kyle yelped. Something clattered to the ground. It sounded like the gun.

  “You fookin’ bitch! You shot my partner!”

  I lowered the shield. Kyle was on the ground, gripping his shin and half panting, half crying. Wig bent over him, showing a concern that surprised me a little, given the way he’d treated the guy so far. The gun lay on the ground several feet away. I twisted the light and sent out an arm of it, aiming for the weapon. It struck true and sent it skittering another twenty feet. Yes! I did a mental fist pump and circled the guys with split strands of light, using it to wrap up both their legs. Wig shouted, then windmilled his arms and toppled over.

  Now if only there was a way I could get down fast. Some funky martial arts flipping move would be awesome right about now. But I’d never had that kind of training and would probably break my leg trying it from this height, anyway. Maybe I could use the light to de-levitate, but this wasn’t the time to experiment
. If it didn’t work, I’d be back in trouble. Plus, I didn’t have enough light to keep them confined and lower myself, too.

  The door burst open without warning. A man stood there in silhouette for a second, backlit by the cloudy day outside. A storm must be moving in, because it seemed darker than before. He surveyed Wig, who was cursing and trying to pry the light off his legs, and Kyle, on his back, whimpering. Then without a search, he looked up at me on the platform.

  “I guess you have it handled.” His voice was gruff, deeper than anything I’d ever heard in real life, and it carried to me without echoing or getting lost in the massive space.

  “Somewhat.” I figured it was safe to come down, but I felt a little badass, standing up there, straight and tall, with my hood and mask. Climbing down the ladder in my catsuit? Not so badass. I had no choice, though. I did it as gracefully and quickly as I could manage, jumping when I had only three rungs to go.

  “I need to call the police.”

  Conn—because it had to be Conn—had backed into the shadows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s the only idea.” I retrieved my bag from where I’d hidden it and extracted my Eclipse phone.

  “You get this off me, you bitch!” Wig flailed, trying to reach my ankle. “You’re trespassing on private property! Go ahead and call them, see how far you get.” And then he let out another stream of curses.

  “Your buddy needs medical attention,” I reminded him. I circled the two men and bent to check the wound. Kyle struggled to sit up, hobbled by the light strands.

  “It’s fine. Just a graze. Ricochet. We can take care of it here. No problem.”

  “Let me look at it.” I crouched, my phone still in my hand. Wig was right, I was trespassing. I thought they were, too, but what if they weren’t? They might have permission to be here, and shooting at me was defending their property. I imagined the police arriving and showing me to be completely in the wrong. That would destroy Eclipse’s reputation.