“Not exactly the result you expected, huh?”
Harris’s mouth flapped closed, open, closed.
“Sit down.” I yanked him into a chair, bound him with light, and handcuffed him around the side of the chair as extra insurance, using the cuffs Julie had rigged. I left Olive on the floor. That was all she deserved.
Sark came through the front door, followed by Smith, who had a bandage around his head. Both had their weapons up, but relaxed and holstered them when they saw I had things under control. More officers crowded in after them. Four people dressed in black tactical clothing didn’t bother with the door but climbed through the window. Three headed directly for Harris and Olive, while the fourth, a powerfully built woman with a severely short haircut, came to me.
“Forgeron’s on his way.” She handed me a card. I glanced at it long enough to see the words CASE and task force. “The serum is in effect?” she asked, though it was clear by Harris’s constipated expression and the complete lack of people flying through the air that it was.
“Yes. He said it will last months, but we don’t really know.”
“Don’t worry. We have a plan in place. He can’t use telekinesis when sedated, and by the time he comes around, he’ll be in a lockdown so tight he can triple his strength and not get out.” She smiled, a cold expression that didn’t even reach her nose, never mind her eyes.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No, thank you. This will make a huge difference nationwide. Good job.”
Sark came over when she walked away, and I touched his swollen eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “My fault. Blindsided in the freaking john. They got Smith harder, but he’s got a boulder of a head. We’ll be okay.”
“Angie?”
“On her way to the hospital. I don’t know.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You need to get there too.”
“It’s my fault she’s—”
“I meant”—he talked over me—“that you need to be seen by medical professionals. Harmony, you’re—”
About to pass out? He was right.
I woke up in the ambulance, listening to Emilio and his partner arguing about my blood pressure. “Internal,” I tried, but they didn’t hear me. I groped until my hand struck Emilio’s leg, and they both stopped to look down at me. “Internal bleeding, maybe,” I managed at just above a whisper. I didn’t hurt, but everything felt wrong. Weak. Fading. “Sonic pressure.” It was the best I could explain what Olive had done. “Everyone . . . inside . . . diner . . .”
I didn’t know or care if Harris had been affected by Olive’s vocal weapon, but Conn had been almost as close as I had, and Angie had been in the room, too.
“Got it.” Emilio began barking orders. The driver relayed information, probably over the radio, and I tried to ask about Conn and Angie and the others but couldn’t muster up the words. I slowly faded away, my last awareness of an urgency I couldn’t act on.
This time, when I woke up in the hospital, I’d been completely changed into a gown. No mask, no catsuit, no protection. A nurse was taping a bandage on my abdomen, and a tall woman in a lab coat stood at the foot of my bed, jotting notes on a clipboard. Both smiled at me when they saw I was awake.
“How are you feeling, Harmony?”
I stretched my arms and legs a little. “Too soon to tell.”
The nurse smoothed a light blanket over me and used the control to raise the top of the bed so I could see more easily.
The doctor slid her reading glasses to the top of her head and hung the clipboard on the hook on the footboard. “I have to tell you, this case is the buzz of the medical community. Lots of unique stuff we had to deal with here.”
“So glad I could offer some excitement.”
She chuckled. “Sorry if that sounded callous. So, your main injury, though that’s not a completely accurate term, was to your internal organs. The sonic pressure, as you called it, would have liquefied them all. It stopped soon enough that they were merely a bit squishy. You had some internal bleeding that we were able to stop surgically. You also had generalized inflammation. I swear, every cell in your body suffered heat and edema. We brought that down, I think, with medication, though judging by your records and the state of your injuries from two days ago, you have natural healing acceleration, so we probably can’t take credit for that. Bottom line: you’re going to be fine.”
I didn’t care about any of that, but I said, “Thank you, Doctor. What about the others?”
She smiled as if she’d expected that response. “I’m not at liberty to share details about other patients, but you do have a visitor that doesn’t have the same restrictions we do. We’re keeping you overnight,” she finished, heading for the door. “Get some rest.”
No way was I staying in here. I flipped the covers back and tugged on the rail, trying to figure out how to lower it.
“Slow down, Harmony.”
My heart leaped, but it wasn’t Conn in the doorway. It was Evan.
“Where is everyone?” I found the right angle and shoved the rail down. “Why won’t anyone tell me who’s okay and who’s not?” I was on my feet by the time he reached me, but my legs were all hey, we’re weak as shit here and almost gave out before Evan got me back on the bed. I reluctantly lay down while he dragged over a chair.
“Take it easy. Everyone’s alive.”
I sighed and let myself relax. “Details, please.”
“Angie took a bullet in her side. She’s making a lot of jokes about her wide hips. The slug went straight through, just above the hip joint, missing all her major organs but tearing up her tissues pretty good. She lost a lot of blood but had a few transfusions—lots of townspeople donated—and will only be in here a couple of days while they make sure she’s fully stabilized.”
“Thank God.” I closed my eyes, the final scene in the tearoom filling my vision. The blood sliding down the front of the counter. Angie’s hand falling as if she’d died. I’d never have forgiven myself if she had. I knew that was stupid, that it was the same problem that had sent Conn running so many times, but I understood now how impossible it was to logic away.
“Simon’s in the concussion protocol and your friend Julie is all over his nursing. Hard to say what lingering effects he might have, but he says it’s his first one, so they’re hopeful. Conn had minor injuries. He’s already recovered and is wrapping up reports with the authorities and organizing repairs to the tearoom.”
If I hadn’t already realized I loved him, that might have done it. I tried to focus on the fact that he was doing something for Angie and not that he wasn’t here waiting for me to wake up.
“I wouldn’t let him stay here,” Evan said as if reading my thoughts. “We’ll get back to that. When the window blew out, a few people suffered some cuts and bruising. They’d gotten most of the stupid lookie-loos out of the area, but a few die-hard YouTube celebrity hopefuls stayed to film. A couple of cops were in the blast zone, too, but it was a very contained blast.” He grinned. “Want to see?”
I wasn’t sure I did. But curiosity about how it had looked from the outside won, and he withdrew a tablet from the bag he’d set on the floor. The video was cued up, forty-seven seconds indicated on the progress bar. Evan hit play.
I was only a silhouette framed by the window. The ropes of light shone on the fear on Harris’s and Olive’s faces as they struggled more frantically than I remembered. A shadow moved on the far side of the image. Conn, heading for Angie. I began to glow on the screen, red and gold. My head went back. I screamed, but it was a Valkyrie cry. The light flames danced on my skin, then seemed to pull inward, like the ocean being sucked out to form a tidal wave.
Unlike a regular explosion, when it came it didn’t roil with smoke and clouds of heat. It was pure light, clearer and whiter than m
y light ever was. It shot out a few feet from my body, dazzling the camera so the screen went blank. But the audio continued. We could hear the glass shattering, my scream dying, other people’s shouts and yells taking over. Then the screen cleared just in time to see my light snuff out the blast. And then it was like it had never happened. No burning, no smoke or steam or dust in the air. Just the glittering glass and me. A survivor. A superhero.
It was kind of badass.
“As you can expect,” Evan said, stowing the tablet, “this is trending all over the world. Eclipse’s anonymity is toast.”
“That’s okay. It already was.” I was a little afraid of what that meant beyond Pilton—and even here in Pilton—but it was nothing compared to what had happened.
“So that brings us back to why Conn’s not here. I wanted to be the one to update you on everything and thank you for your amazing job. This is the first CASE-connected incident that had one-hundred-percent failure for their organization. Their most legendary captain has been captured. It’s going to set their operations back immeasurably. We owe you and Conn a great deal.”
“You can keep Harris contained, even once the serum wears off?” They wouldn’t be able to sedate him all the time.
But Evan nodded. “We believe we can. Mag locks that can’t be opened physically, which means they can’t be opened mentally, either. Among other security measures. But that’s up to the people—”
“Above you.” I smiled. “What’s up to you? I mean, what’s next?”
He sat back and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. “Convincing your friend Julie to come on board, for one.”
I raised my eyebrows. “She said no?”
“She’s undecided. She likes her job in Cleveland. I told her she can keep it and work for us on the side, but what she can do, what she’s already done, really merits a full-time position.”
But Cleveland was closer to Pilton, where Simon lived. It wasn’t my job to make decisions for either of them, but I wanted it to work out. I’d be there for both of them if they needed me.
“What else? How’s Slate doing? Conn was really concerned about Tulie.”
“They’re holding together. It’s a good team, and Salt Lake City needs them. They’ll be back on their feet soon. And the situation gave us some leads.”
“So you’re moving on?”
“I’m moving on. But before I do, we have to talk about Conn.” His crooked smile told me he knew I’d been leading us away from the subject. The last time I saw Conn, I tried to kill him. And he wasn’t here when I woke up.
“We’re not close, but we’ve been colleagues long enough that I know what Tatwell’s involvement here could do to him. His revelations are going to weigh on Conn for a long time. He might try to leave again. I think you know that’s his MO. He’ll believe he’s sparing you. He’ll tell you that you deserve better. Don’t let him.”
I didn’t say anything. Evan was mostly a stranger to me, and I wasn’t going to discuss my own issues with him. They’d be at least as much of an obstacle to an ongoing relationship as Conn’s were. But Evan didn’t seem to expect me to. He just said, “I think you guys work together. Good luck.” Then he stood, tipped an imaginary cap to me, then shouldered his bag and left.
After drinking a lot of water and eating the sandwich that was delivered to me a few minutes later, I felt strong enough to try getting out of bed again. I found a change of clothes in the little cubby-closet and dressed, waiting to remove my IV until I had to. There was enough light remaining inside me to facilitate healing, but once I was home I was going to release it all. I had a feeling it would be like taking off a bra at the end of a long day.
But first, Angie. I asked at the nurses’ station, and they directed me to her room, a couple of floors below. Maybe because I’d been wearing street clothes, or maybe because of a change of shift, they didn’t seem to realize I was a patient they probably didn’t want wandering around.
Once I got to Angie’s room, I was wiped out. I collapsed in the chair next to her bed and closed my eyes, thinking I’d nap a bit while I waited for her to wake up.
“There she is,” she murmured as soon as I began to drift.
My eyes snapped open, and I leaned toward her. “Hey. How are you doing?”
“Great.” She blinked and yawned, then rubbed her eyes with one hand while she raised the bed with the other. “I thought you had surgery, too. They told me you were upstairs.”
“I was. But I had to come see you for myself. Angie, I’m—”
“If you apologize to me, I’m going to ban you from the tearoom for life. And we’re naming stuff after you, so you don’t want that.”
“I thought you were dead.”
She snickered. “That was good, huh? I was Coulson to your Avenger.”
I stared at her, not getting what she was saying. “My— Coulson?” I thought about the movie, and anger bubbled up. “You were pretending? Like Fury used Coulson’s death to rally the troops?”
“Well, it’s not a perfect analogy, but yeah. You didn’t want to use light because of breathing the explosive and thinking it would blow us all up. I figured if I gave you permission and you thought I was dead anyway, you’d have enough fuel to push you over the edge and take them out. I knew what they’d do,” she said more seriously. “I heard Conn, and he was right. That guy was relentless. You should have heard the things he and Olive talked about. He had lists of people who’d escaped, superheroes who had failed or whose actions had negative consequences. And Olive ate it up with a spoon. We’d have been much better off with them dead.”
“I didn’t want to kill,” I said softly. She’d defused my anger, which left room for the sick burn in my stomach. “I never thought I’d ever have to face something like that. It wasn’t the same as self-defense. I had them wrapped up. They weren’t an immediate threat. Taking lives . . .”
“I know. I’m glad it didn’t come to that. But I’m also glad you took the risk. We couldn’t know what was going to happen, and if I hadn’t been shot, I don’t know if I’d have felt as self-sacrificial as I did. But now there’s no ‘what if’ to haunt us for the rest of our lives.”
There was always a what if. But thanks to her, they were much smaller than they would have been.
“I love you, Angie.”
“Love you too, Harmipse.”
I laughed. “What?”
“You’re not two people anymore. I’m trying out new names. That sucked. How about Eclipony?”
“No! Leave it alone. I can be Harmony ‘Eclipse’ Wilde, thank you very much.”
“Fine.” She sighed and banged her arms on the bed. “But I’m going to keep trying.”
“Focus your energies on coming up with your own name.”
She made a moue with her mouth. “I have a name.”
“I’m not in hiding anymore, which means you don’t have the perk of being the only one who knows. So you need to become my official sidekick to make up for it.”
I left her gleefully spitting out light-related words. Deciding to skip arguing with staff about discharge against medical advice, I got in the elevator and left the hospital. I already felt stronger, and needed Conn desperately. I texted him on my regular phone, which I’d found with my clothes. There was no reason not to use it now. Can you please meet me at my house?
I was halfway there in one of Pilton’s few taxis when he responded with a one-word affirmative. That didn’t make me feel good, but I tried not to read into it. Once home, I took a very fast shower and brushed out my hair, throwing on a loose T-shirt dress because my whole body felt tender and sensitive. I’d just finished when Conn knocked on the door.
He stood on my stoop, looking much like he had when I met him in the library. The sun glinted off the tiny earring in his ear. The shaved hair
seemed to be growing out amazingly fast, and even with his hands in his jeans pockets, arms loose, his muscles made my throat ache. Those striking eyes went immediately to my bare shoulder where the dress had slipped sideways, and suddenly, there was only one thing I wanted from him.
I stepped close, letting our bodies brush, and hooked my hand behind his neck, pulling him inside my house and down to kiss me at the same time. He might have resisted, just a little, but my tongue pressing between his lips probably changed his mind. He swung me around, his arm hard against the small of my back, and slammed me against the closing door. His kiss was hungry, desperate, and desire spiked.
I buried my face in his neck, biting hard enough to make him gasp, and shoved his shirt up and off. He slid his hand up my thigh, under my dress, and found nothing but skin. He cursed, and I laughed breathlessly. I ached for him, throbbed, and undid his jeans with eager hands. His hands were trying to fill themselves with my breasts and lift me up against the door at the same time, which wasn’t working very well, but as soon as I took him in hand, he got coordinated, picked me off the floor, wrapped my thighs around his hips, and thrust—holding back at the last second. I gave a frustrated scream-growl, but he kissed it away, eating at my mouth with so much need I wanted to drown in him.
“Condom,” he managed to say in between, and I groaned.
“I forgot. I’m sorry. I didn’t plan—”
“Back pocket.” He held me tight, the grip of his big hands under my thighs making me crazy. I carefully tugged his wallet from his jeans, which fell to the floor, and found the foil packet before letting the wallet join them. I reached between us to roll the condom on.
The Light of Redemption Page 31
