Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “Really? Our new bartenders aren’t as impressive,” Roy replied. While the customers had returned in droves, the wait staff had effectively been cut in half since Six-Shooter’s closing. This was less a casualty of the fire and explosion than it was a far more predictable, insidious enemy to a college town’s bar workers: graduation. Just as Roy and Chad hoped to be gone next year, so too had their predecessors graduated college and moved on. Granted, many of them were still bartending in different towns, but they nevertheless left holes in the roster that needed to be filled.

  “Aside from Chad, have you ever met a bartender you considered impressive?” Alice asked.

  “He even complains about me,” Chad threw in. “Despite the fact that my pours are near-perfect.”

  “It’s not about perfection; it’s about style.” Roy filled a glass with water and a few ice cubes and set it down before Alice, who promptly drained the thing half-dry.

  “Thanks.” Alice took a breath, then polished off the rest of her water in one go. It was a hectic night, all the more so because she was trying to watch over the new shot girls just as Angela had watched over her. Well, not exactly the same way. Alice’s method involved a lot less cursing and threats.

  Roy quickly checked in on the people sitting at his and Chad’s bar, making sure everyone was topped off and having fun. His job was more the latter; Chad was as precise in tracking his customers’ need for new drinks as he was at everything else he did. While Roy was scoping things out, though, he noticed a woman staring at him from across the dance floor. That in itself wasn’t something Roy considered remarkable; he’d come a long way in a lot of areas, but his ego still had a mind of its own.

  What did strike him as strange was that he was almost certain he’d seen her glance over several times already. That was a bit peculiar. As a bartender, he was the easiest person in the entire building to come talk to: all she had to do was order a beer. But even that he might have dismissed if not for the fact that there was something familiar about her. The black dress and wavy brown hair didn’t ring any bells, and it was hard to get a good look at her face from across a crowded bar. All the same, something in Roy’s gut told him he’d seen that girl before. Once upon a time, it was the sort of feeling he’d dismiss as coincidental, or at most, curious. After everything his group had gone through, however, Roy now found such sentiments to be a cause for caution.

  “Hey, Alice.” Roy kept his tone the same as before, impossible to hear over the racket of voices and loud country music. He did angle himself slightly away from where he’d last seen the girl, so that his mouth was impossible to read. “There’s a gal who keeps eyeing me over near the east bathrooms. Brown hair and a black dress that doesn’t fit the theme here. When you’re doing the rounds, can you take a peek and see if she looks familiar to you?”

  “Since when do you need my help scooping up women at a bar?” Alice’s joking smile faded as she caught sight of the serious look in Roy’s eyes. “Something up?”

  “Probably not. Got an admirer who seems familiar, but I can’t place her. Odds are it’s just someone I chatted up who didn’t stick out in my mind. All the same…”

  “Yeah, I understand.” Alice picked up her tray of Jell-O shots, slipped the full bottle of whiskey into her left holster, and walked back out into the happy, drunken sea.

  Roy tried to watch her go, but the hole she left was quickly filled by thirsty patrons and a little paranoia was no excuse for not doing his job. He popped the tops off beers and poured well-cocktails methodically, smiling and making chit-chat while barely hearing the words anyone spoke. He’d lost sight of both Alice and the mystery girl despite combing the bar with his eyes at every opportunity. Finally, Alice’s familiar blonde figure reappeared in the ocean of bodies, making her way back over to the bar.

  Before he could even ask, Alice shook her head. “Nothing. I thought I saw someone who fit your description for a second, but then I got swarmed by a group wanting shots. By the time I was able to look again, she was gone. Did a full sweep around the place, but no other sightings.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Roy replied. “It’s probably nothing. Just a shy lady who couldn’t muster up the courage to come talk to the walking Adonis that is Roy Daniels.” Beneath the bravado, Roy sincerely hoped the words were true, despite the bitter taste of doubt they left on his tongue.

  56.

  The door to his classroom clicked shut before Sean Pendleton could so much as look up from his desk. The sound of the lock being turned followed immediately after.

  He expected to find Dean Blaine staring back at him, here to offer news about their off-campus activities, or perhaps dole out a covert assignment. Instead, Sean found himself looking at his half-brother: Professor Blake Hill. They hadn’t spoken since Alice had chosen to go into Subtlety, not even nodding at one another in the halls. Alice’s decision was only the latest in a long line of problems between the two, although it did manage to reopen some old wounds.

  “You finally here to do this?” Sean wasn’t sure who was stronger, he or Blake. As the older sibling, he’d been the first to both get and train his abilities, but they were a long way from the playground now. Most likely, it would come down to reaction time.

  “I wanted to see how she’s doing.” Instead of housing his usual sneering confrontation, Blake’s face was turned downward. It was the most humble Sean had seen him in years, and he didn’t trust it for a moment.

  “I submit my weekly reports just like everyone else. I’m sure Blaine would let you browse them.”

  “For god’s sake, Sean, she’s my niece too. I’ve got the right to make sure she’s handling the program well,” Blake protested, a bit of his usual fire coming back into his eyes. Now that was more like the brother Sean knew and couldn’t quite stop himself from blaming.

  “Maybe so, but I trust you so little that I don’t buy that you’re really the one asking. Did your owner jerk the leash and tell you to come sniffing around?” Sean asked.

  Blake froze in his spot, turning his head the rest of the way upward and meeting Sean’s gaze with a fierce expression of his own. “Charles Adair is my friend, not my master. And no, he’s not the one checking in on her.”

  “Of course he isn’t. Since when does Charles give a fuck about his daughter?”

  “And what would you know about it? Where were you when Alice was diagnosed, growing up with a power that put her at risk anytime she got a little too happy or excited?” Blake’s voice was rising, and Sean said a silent prayer of thanks that the rooms in the HCP had thick walls. This would get worse before it got better. It always did, and neither of them could seem to stop it. “Oh, that’s right, you were in jail! Because you went off the deep end and started robbing people when Shelby died.”

  “I went off the deep end when Charles fucking Adair destroyed her and then tried to cover it up!” Now it was Sean who was yelling, leaping from his chair so fast he knocked a coffee mug to the floor. Its shattering didn’t reach either man’s ears over the sound of their own voices. “I was funding my search for proof because your friend hid my sister away and I wasn’t going to stand for it.”

  “She was my sister, too.” Blake lurched forward, hands half-closed as though they weren’t sure if they wanted to be fists or not. “Shelby was my twin; you think I don’t miss her every day? That I don’t love her as much as you? Go fuck yourself, Sean. We both lost her, but instead of leaning on each other like a damn family, you couldn’t accept it. You had to fill your head with insane conspiracy theories and start blaming everyone around you.”

  “You don’t blame him?” The tone of Sean’s voice fell, barely above a whisper now. For the first time since he’d arrived at Lander, he seriously considered the possibility that he might be about to get thrown back in jail, depending on his brother’s answer. “You like to call me crazy, Blake, but I’m not wrong about who it was that took Shelby away.”

  “Shelby made a choice,” Blake shot back, his own voice
growing quieter as well. “We both know that. She talked about it with us. Hell, do you even remember her in those final days? It was barely even her; she was a ghost of the woman we knew. I’m damn sure not happy with how things turned out, but what she was going through… I don’t blame her for taking a long shot.”

  “I don’t blame her, either,” Sean agreed. “I blame him for giving in, and I blame you for introducing them in the first place. She’d have never met that son of a bitch if you hadn’t played matchmaker in college.”

  “Goddamn it, Sean, why not blame our parents for birthing us, too, if you’re going back that far.” Blake shook his head and stepped backward, putting some space between him and his half-brother. “You know, I’m the one that should be throwing blame around. As awful as what happened was, you made it so much worse. I’d just lost my twin sister, and then you took away my brother. In a few short years, I lost almost all the family I had left. And you are the one responsible for the second part. Not Charles, or me, or anyone else.”

  “A man does crazy things when his family is threatened.” Sean slowly stepped back toward his desk, forcing himself to get back under control.

  “We’re family, too.”

  “We’ll be family when you tell me what really happened to Shelby. Until then, you’re a stranger.” Sean slumped back into his chair, looking at the desk in an effort to keep his temper in check.

  “She died, Sean. I don’t like it any more than you did, but running from the truth just makes it worse. She died, and we’re still stuck here, dealing with it the best we can.” Blake turned and began walking over to the classroom door. “I’ll read your reports about Alice, but if she needs anything I can help with, please let me know. I think we can at least agree that we want the best for our niece.”

  “You know, I was in jail,” Sean said, remembering Blake’s earlier accusations. “But you weren’t. You should have been a presence in Alice’s life, someone she trusted and cared about. Yet she had no idea who you were when she got to Lander. So tell me, oh-great-uncle, where exactly were you when Alice was growing up?”

  “I was avoiding her, like a coward.” Blake’s voice had no shame in it; this was clearly a truth he’d made peace with long ago. “Probably for much the same reason that Charles does: she looks so much like Shelby. Every time I even glance at her, I see the fact that we failed my sister. It just hurt too much for too long.”

  “Well,” Sean said, noticing the shards of broken mug on the ground for the first time. “That just sounds like a wet pile of bullshit to me.”

  “Of course it does,” Blake agreed. “Because of us all, you’re the one who always told her not to try it. So you get to walk through life without the crushing weight of guilt, even though you should feel every ounce of it. Deep down, you know it. If Shelby had listened to you, she’d probably still be dead. And we might have lost Alice, too.”

  Blake didn’t wait for a reply. He just threw open the door and strode into the hall, leaving Sean behind with nothing but a slowly cooling temper and a shattered mug to clean.

  57.

  The woman across from Dean Blaine was impressively nondescript. Even after sitting with her for half an hour, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to pick her out in a crowd. Of course, that was possibly because she might not even look like this. He was paying for her time, not her secrets, and someone in her line of work was bound to be private by necessity.

  She flipped through the pages of the contract slowly, taking in every detail. “This is an odd one. Most folks hire me to see if their spouse is willing to cheat on them or to dig up a little secret information behind someone’s back.”

  “I appreciate the discretion, but I know you’ve also been tapped to publicly fill in for more notorious Heroes should they be indisposed.” Dean Blaine had gotten this recommendation through no small amount of effort; Galina was not an asset many in the world knew about. As a Super with a useful and potent gift, she wasn’t rated to engage in actual field work, though she had been called upon to assume a Hero’s public image more than once. Healers couldn’t fix everything, especially when considering the mental toll the job could take. No one wanted to hear that their champions were going through intensive therapy, however, so sometimes a substitute was needed for the times when the real Hero was on the proverbial couch.

  “You understand that I cannot in any way confirm what you’re suggesting, don’t you?” She didn’t look bothered or surprised that he knew—the mere fact that Galina had taken the meeting meant that she was up to speed.

  “And that sense of discretion is why you came so highly recommended for the job,” he replied. “What we’ll be doing is not technically illegal, but it also cannot become public knowledge. The safety of several people hinges upon that fact.”

  “Understood.” Galina kept flipping, reading each page carefully. Aside from confirming her fees, which were far from cheap, it detailed the nondisclosure clause she’d agree to by taking the assignment. It was a thorough document, but nothing she hadn’t seen before. For one in her line of work, secret-keeping was the most important skill to learn.

  Finishing her perusal of the documents, Galina slid them back across the desk to Dean Blaine. They were seated in her office, a brightly lit space with no discerning paintings or markings of any kind, located in an unremarkable strip mall. The room housed a desk, a laptop, and a mini-fridge filled with local craft sodas, one of which she’d offered to Dean Blaine when he arrived. Upon the desk was a small cup holding a few pens, and it didn’t escape Dean Blaine’s notice that her hand hadn’t reached for any of them to sign the contract.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not with the papers; that’s all perfectly in order.” Galina leaned back in her chair slowly, eyes never quite leaving her visitor’s face. “But this feels off to me, and I don’t take jobs where I don’t know what I’m really getting into.”

  “I assure you, everything is exactly as outlined,” Dean Blaine said.

  “Maybe so. Yet you’re clearly a Hero, and this is HCP work, but the DVA isn’t footing my bill. I know what their contracts look like, and this isn’t one of them,” Galina said. “Now, don’t get me wrong, those people can be first-class pricks. I’ve got no love lost for them. All the same, that doesn’t mean I’m going to mix myself up in some shit that will have them breathing down my neck. Whatever’s going on, you’re trying to keep it off the books, so I think you can understand why I might be concerned about becoming an accessory.”

  That was the trouble with working with skilled people; they were often too good to be easily managed or kept in the dark. Galina was an exceptional investigator by reputation, and Dean Blaine had known going in that he might have to give up more information than he’d have liked to secure her services. With so few other options available, it seemed he was going to have to take that gamble after all.

  “You’re right,” Dean Blaine admitted. There was no point in denying what she obviously knew to be true. “We’re doing off-the-book work, but it’s not for a nefarious reason. What we need you to do is mimic a person whose power allows us to talk to someone who might provide us with answers to a mystery. The only actual crime that will occur is the theft of the hair samples, and, technically, those are trash anyway. Plus, you won’t be the one stealing them. As for why we’re keeping the DVA in the dark about what we’re doing… well, to be frank, it’s because we don’t know who we can trust. I’ve already been betrayed by two people I’d never have suspected to be turncoats. If the wrong person gets wind of what we’re looking for, they could shut us down, or worse. That’s why I’m coming to you. By all accounts, you serve only the contracts that you sign.”

  “Sounds more intriguing than off-putting.” Galina studied him, no doubt searching his face for any sign that he was selling falsehoods. “But those seem like the sort of secrets I’m much happier not knowing. Will I be a facilitator or a witness?”

  “Facilitator,” Dean Blaine assured her. “
The way this power works, you won’t be able to overhear the conversations. All we need from you is to show up, mimic the power, put someone in a trance, and release them when the work is done. It might take more than one go, given your time constraints, but your duties will never change, nor will you be exposed to any sensitive information.”

  She stared for a while longer, then slowly reached over and pulled the contract back to her side of the desk. “You’re not the only one who did research, you know. I talked to a few former clients who know you before I agreed to this meeting. The consensus they gave was almost universal: you can’t trust Blaine around your good scotch, but he always keeps his word and his people safe. This is a gig I’d normally turn away; I want you to understand that. But it seems interesting, and your colleagues think the world of you.” Galina plucked a pen from the cup holding them and signed her name to the first of a myriad of blank spots on the pages.

  “I urge you not to make liars out of them,” she told him. “You’re not the only one here who is owed favors by powerful people.”

  58.

  As gym class came to an end, the senior students began making the familiar trek off to the showers where they’d clean up, don normal clothes, and return to the serene normality of Lander’s above-ground campus. Their route was blocked, however, as Alice floated over to the double doors and placed herself directly in front of the exit.

  “Quick announcement to make,” she told them, dealing with their curiosity before anyone could ask what the hell was going on. “This seemed faster than letting everyone know one by one. Since Halloween is coming up, we decided to throw a party. Everyone is welcome to attend. Anybody who wants details, hang around for a few minutes. Those who already have plans, sorry for the delay.”

  With that, Alice moved to the side, allowing free access to the doorway. Rich, Allen, Amber, and Britney exchanged a brief stare before Britney ultimately stepped forward to speak for her group. “We appreciate the invitation, but the four of us were going to check out Screamtopia since Amber and I haven’t gone before. Last year here and all; we’ve already bought our tickets.”