Strange Supes

by Gray Holborn

  “Let’s go Desi-girl. You might be immune to feeders, but I doubt you’re immune to fire.” I briefly registered Jax’s hands pulling me from the ground and clearing a path for me to get to the door before his heat left my skin and he disappeared in another direction. I looked around the now almost empty club, but the dark-haired fire-manipulator was nowhere to be seen. My eyebrows pulled together briefly while I thought about how ironic it was that I couldn’t thank her for saving me from the person who ultimately ended up saving me from her, and then I joined the mass of sweaty bodies until I was outside and reunited with a perfectly dry and singe-free El.

  “Dess,” she shoved her way past Muscles McGee, and pulled me from the crowd. “Thank gods. Are you okay?”

  I could feel her heart pounding fiercely against my stomach as I hugged her back. It helped distract from the heavy ringing in my ears and the dizzying effect of adrenaline that couldn’t decide whether to force my body into fight or flight. El was okay and I was okay. I focused on that while I watched as gray tears, tinted by mascara, carved abstract designs down her cheeks, briefly noticing that her hair was tousled and her lipstick smudged.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  She looked sheepishly at Muscles and shrugged, worry and guilt playing across her features.

  I covered my fear with a strained laugh. “Oh El, at least this time your hormones actually kept you out of danger, rather than throwing you right in the mess of it.”

  “Tell me about it,” her hands danced across her phone as she ordered a Lyft, “do you know how difficult it would’ve been to get the smell of smoke out of this fabric.” She paused, pulling me with her across the street as she weaved around wide-eyed and drenched bodies.

  We looked at each other and I saw my panic mirrored in her eyes. El blinked back tears and smiled. I realized instantly that we were both unsuccessfully trying to lighten the mood for each other.

  She breathed in deeply, then let out a shaky breath as her fingers curled around my hand. “For real though, I’m so sorry I wasn’t in there with you. When people started screaming and clawing through the door my heart about fell out of my butt. And then you of course had to be one of the last ones out.” Her brightly-painted fingers waved to a black Subaru and I could see them trembling wildly from either adrenaline or fear or some combination of both. The car stopped and El opened the back door and nodded to the driver before turning back to me. “You’re okay? You weren’t burnt? Should we stop at the hospital just in case?”

  I watched as her eyes combed me over. Since she was a supe, El healed very quickly. But since I wasn’t, she was always terrified that I was one breath away from catching the plague or death.

  I nodded, my throat clogged with adrenaline. “I’m fine El, really. Let’s go home, drink some cheap wine to calm down, and then talk to Sam about this tomorrow. I just need to regroup is all.”

  “We should talk to him tonight, Dess. As soon as possible. You were in a fire for crying out loud.”

  I shook my head. “Tomorrow.” I hated how shaky my voice sounded, but I knew that if Sam saw us while we were this frazzled, he’d freak out.

  Chapter Three

  El and I spent the rest of the night drinking cheap wine and watching old reruns of Buffy. She’d tried multiple times to get me to talk about the fire, but I wanted nothing more than to wash the smell of ash out of my skin and process the night on my own.

  Like a proper best friend, she let me. However grudgingly.

  But the second I woke up the next morning, she demanded that we go talk to Sam about it.

  As luck would have it, we walked out of the house at the same time Sam was locking up his basement apartment. He was heading down the driveway with a random girl I recognized from The Tavern’s crew of admirers, clearly trying to ditch her without being too big of a douche about it.

  “So, I had fun last night.” She batted her lashes and pouted her lips. I think she was attempting to flirt, but the effect was minimized by her messy hair and the mascara streaks running down her face. I cringed, overcome with pity. I highly doubted this girl had any idea that her walk-of-shame style was less than glamorous...or that her morning seductress routine was more terrifying than tempting.

  “Yeah, yeah me too. Do you want me to call you a Lyft or a cab or something?”

  “That’s okay, the bus stop is a block away. If you aren’t busy, do you want to maybe go out again tonight or next weekend?”

  “Uh, well—I mean I thought it was clear after our talk last night that this was a one-time thing? But maybe I’ll see you around or talk to you later?” He scratched his chin awkwardly and caught a glance at El and me. A look of mortified embarrassment took over his face. He ran his hand through his hair and started scrubbing his face, as if that would help erase the awkwardness. It didn’t.

  “I mean, I know you said that, but we had fun didn’t we? Maybe we could try for a real date next weekend? Here’s my number.” She slipped what looked like a business card into his front pocket, her hand remaining in the fabric of his jeans far longer than was necessary. I cringed and El was uncharacteristically quiet, a blush growing on her cheeks. We both averted our eyes until the woman turned and started walking away down the street.

  “Have a little too much to drink last night, Sammy?” I asked. He usually avoided bringing customers home. Especially since he wasn’t exactly a commitment type of guy. It was a lot easier to get repeat customers and tips when you lightly flirted. Not so much when you pulled the whole one-night-stand game with them.

  “I hate that name. You girls heading into The Tavern for the typical Saturday brunch and homework binge?”

  “Yes...care to bribe Reggie into making us some pancakes?” Ellie asked.

  “Reg won’t be in for kitchen prep until a little later, but if you both agree to pretend you never witnessed that whole thing, I’ll make you the damn pancakes myself.”

  “Deal,” we said in unison, giant grins on our faces.

  “Why didn’t you just persuade Beetlejuice to lose interest in you?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Something feels fundamentally wrong about trying to manipulate a girl who’s spent the night.” He shrugged.

  “Aw, how sweet, I always knew that grungy, rebel-without-a-cause attitude was just for show,” I said, rolling my eyes. He was too much a gentleman to use his ability but totally fine with ditching the girl after hooking up with her. Men.

  “This is sounding suspiciously like you don’t want pancakes, Dess,” he said, jogging along in front of us with a smirk.

  “Shutting up now!” We caught up with him and made our way quickly to the bar.

  When we got to The Tavern, El and I beelined for our typical booth in the back. The same one that the supe sat in last night. Sam went in the back to start on our brunch and put a pot of fresh coffee on.

  Sam walked up, hair pulled back into a bun like a true Seattleite, strategically balancing multiple plates along his arms. Seriously? It was one thing to get cheated out of the persuasion-manipulation, but why couldn’t I at least inherit good old fashioned human coordination?

  “Alright, short stacks for both of you. Two orders of bacon for El. And a bowl of fruit each, so that we can at least pretend there is some nutritional value to this meal.” He shoved me over in the booth, grabbing his own cup of coffee and a piece of toast while he looked over the inventory sheets for the bar.

  “We’re going to grab a pizza tonight with Luis, you down?” I was already halfway through my pancakes, homework completely forgotten. Reggie was a great cook, but after six years Sam knew how to make my perfect pancake order: extra extra chocolate chips.

  “Wish I could, but I’ll be here all night. You guys can stop by if you get bored for a drink,” he paused, glancing up at us, “speaking of, did you both have a good time last night?”

  El’s eyes bugged out at me while she tilted her head in Sam’s direction. Right, I guess it was time to talk.

&nbs
p; “So, um, funny story, there was actually a fire at Inferno last night—er, while I was in the club.”

  Sam dropped his paperwork, his complexion paling a bit. I watched as his eyes scanned us both, likely looking for injuries or burns.

  “Obviously we’re both fine Sam, it was just intense is all,” I said, trying to placate him.

  “Intense my ass, I practically had a heart attack while waiting for you outside,” El added.

  “But you’re both okay?” Sam asked.

  We nodded and after a tense moment, Sam made dumb joke about Inferno and hellfire. The dude was only an uncle, but he had the whole dad-joke thing down to a science.

  I chewed a piece of pancake, building enough courage to drop the other bomb. “So,” I started, “the thing is, the fire was started by a fire-manipulator. And she wasn’t the only supe in Inferno last night. I also saw a seduction-feeder.”

  El’s fork clanked heavily against her plate while she stared at me, open-mouthed and fuming. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this last night, Dess? Did anyone else notice how the fire started? Did the supes talk to you? You didn’t let them know that you could see their energy did you?” She stood up and began pacing around the room. “Why are there so many in Seattle right now? You don’t think the fire-manipulator was trying to hurt you, do you? No humans noticed, right? The last thing we need is for the city to be filled with a bunch of conspiracy theorists—”

  “El, sit back down and breathe please,” I said. “I really don’t think anyone noticed that a person started the fire with their mind—they were all too busy trying to leave the burning club while being drenched with sprinklers. The chaos probably covered everything and the two supes didn’t seem to know each other at all, so I’m sure it was just a weird territorial sort of coincidence.”

  Sam was unusually quiet and tense, his eyes traveling back and forth between us.

  After half an hour of talking in circles, we didn’t land on a solution to the incident. If humans got wind of supernaturals, our life would become insanely complicated. Ultimately, Sam decided that the best option was to just take a wait-and-see approach. We’d carry on like normal, but try to keep an even lower profile until we got more information. That meant no more persuasion-manipulation to dial down Zeek’s obnoxious personality for the time being.

  ✽✽✽

  By the time Sam and El calmed down, the lunch crowd started filtering in, so El and I decided to leave and let Sam get to work. Zeek entered the bar just as we left and El had to choke down her laughter when he held the door, bowing to us until several greasy locks of his hair brushed the grimy floor. I guess Sam’s mind addling was extra strong last night.

  Over the last year, we’d made it our tradition to walk to The Tavern on Saturday mornings for breakfast and homework since Sam’s place had our favorite two things: wifi and free food. But it was an uncharacteristically sunny day in Seattle, so we decided to arm ourselves with laptops and textbooks (the kind you spent a fortune on and used maybe twice during the semester), and do our work outside.

  El and I were finishing our final two months at Walesh College—a small school about a fifteen minute bus ride from our place. I was double majoring in communications and sociology; El was majoring in whatever subject interested her that week. She’d been taking classes two years longer than I had and was probably halfway towards earning a degree in most of the programs Walesh offered. It was like she was trying to cram twenty different lives into her one. I was always kind of envious of her simultaneous ambition and ambivalence. Eventually, she got Sam to persuade the Dean to allow her to build her own major, picking whichever classes suited her fancy each semester—the last couple of years, she’d used that as an excuse to take as many classes with me as she could. Still, even though the end was creeping up, I didn’t have any idea what I’d do after school. Most of my peers dreamt of amazing corporate or artistic careers. My most ambitious dream involved finding a diner that served all-you-can-eat grilled cheese for a reasonable price.

  “Where to?” El asked. Then, with a coy look in my direction she laughed. “Nevermind, stupid question. Usual spot?”

  I nodded. Seattle neighborhoods were all either surrounding or surrounded by bodies of water and parks. Those scenic little spots however were also insanely packed on nice days and tended to feel as crowded as downtown during tourist season. We both loved the outdoors, but the company of other people? Not so much. So we hopped in the Barbie-mobile and took a short trip to a trail and pond that had long been abandoned. Maybe it had to do with her panther senses or something, but El had a knack for finding little pockets of isolated heaven in a city that seemed to otherwise be experiencing a population explosion.

  The pond itself was small, but it was one of our favorite spots. The trail leading to it was mostly flat and opened to a small empty cabin that seemed to be abandoned, though well maintained. In all the times we wandered here, we never encountered another person. Beyond the trail and clearing around the pond, the area was surrounded by trees which gave the illusion that we were far away from the bustling city.

  El walked over to the janky wooden dock and pet the ground lovingly. She did this every time we showed up and I was always impressed that she never got a splinter. Must be a supe thing. “Oh, gods of the little pond, we come bearing thanks for introducing us all these years ago.” She curtsied deep and dramatic, her laughter carried gently along on the breeze.

  “You should really be thanking me. For not running away and screaming when I stumbled upon a panther.” We sat near the pond and pulled the novel we were reading for our English class out; since I’d already taken most of my required courses, and since El’s required courses were whatever she wanted them to be, we had a little more fun with registration this semester and both landed spots in a popular class on science fiction. In other words, this was the best homework we were ever going to get.

  El’s hands ran through the overgrown blades of grass. “You mean I should be thanking your stupidity. What person in their right mind doesn’t run screaming from a jungle predator? You were lucky I’d eaten my fill that morning.”

  I met El almost as soon as I moved to Seattle to live with Sam. The first few months I didn’t have many friends and spent my time wandering around the city trying to process all the weird changes turning my life upside down. I’d never met another supe until I met Sam. And I didn’t meet Sam until my dad dropped me off on his doorstep and left. After noticing Sam’s aura, I booked an eye exam immediately. Eventually Sam realized what I was seeing and gave me a brief rundown on the Veil and supernaturals—and figuring out that a whole other world existed was quite the emotional shitshow, let me tell you. With all of that turmoil, running into a friendly panther seemed almost normal. The rest was history.

  “Dess?” El asked, plucking blades of grass out of the ground. “Why didn’t you mention the supes last night?”

  I flipped through our syllabus for a few minutes, trying to find out how far we had to read. “Honestly, I know how you get about supes and you were already so stressed. I didn’t want you spazzing out anymore than you already were.”

  “I wasn’t spazzing—” she cut off, catching my arched brow. “Okay okay, fine. I was maybe freaking out a little bit last night.”

  I cleared my throat.

  “And also today. I was also freaking out when you mentioned the supes today. But still, promise me you won’t keep things like that from me again, okay? I know I don’t like talking about my past or about energy users, but I don’t want you to think you can’t tell me things. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said.

  After a few minutes of enjoying the scenery and reading silently, we decided to take advantage of our relative isolation and read the novel out loud to each other. What started off as a normal story-time quickly devolved into a contest over who could read with the most ridiculous flourish. In the middle of describing a war-torn planet Mars the bushes a few feet away started to rustle, turning my
best rendition of a Shakespearean Daffy Duck into an embarrassingly girly squeal.

  “El, please tell me you saw that.”

  “Huh? Saw what?” she was facing me, her back to the bushes, buckled over with laughter.

  “The bushes moved.”

  “Quit your screeching. Don’t be such a guy, it was probably the wind or an animal or something. Last night just has you extra paranoid.” At my skeptical look, she laughed and said, “Well go check it out if it will make you feel better—the faster we get back to that weird Kermit the Frog thing you had going on, the better.”

  “Daffy Duck. And you’re the super kitty, you go check it out. Growl at it or something,” I said.

  El rolled her eyes and smirked but humored me anyway, like a mother checking under the bed for monsters she knows aren’t there. After a moment she shook her head to let me know she didn’t see anything, but then stopped for a second to sniff the air. A look of confusion transformed her face, but disappeared just as quickly. “Well, whatever was or wasn’t there is gone now. Still, we should head back anyway,” she said as she walked back over to me. “It’s later than I thought and now I have the heebie-jeebies. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s extra paranoid today. Not that I’m spazzing out or anything, to be clear. Tonight’s hangout with Luis couldn’t have been better timed—we both need to relax a bit—” El paused and looked up at me. “Speaking of, you’re going to be okay, right? Not telling Luis what really happened last night?”

  Shit. I always forgot that Luis didn’t know about supes. And I was a rotten liar so I was thankful El’s warning gave me enough time to master my ‘it was just a freak fire, shit’s crazy’ explanation.

  ✽✽✽

  Luis met us at our favorite pizza joint, around the corner from The Tavern. He was already halfway through a pepperoni pie when we walked through the door.