Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “There’s my little gangster.” Alice admired her handiwork as Nick exited, and on impulse he gave a quick twirl so she could get the whole view.

  Her description was an apt one, because Nick was indeed dressed exactly like a stereotypical gangster from the Capone days: black suit with white pinstripes, wide-brimmed hat with a white band across the crown, shiny shoes, and a violin case tucked under his arm. The only non-period-appropriate accessory was the set of large sunglasses covering his eyes. Though things were expected to flow smoothly, there was always the possibility that they might need a little luck through the night, and it wouldn’t do to go tipping everyone off about Nick’s power usage.

  As his spin came to an end, Nick glanced over and got his first look at Alice in full costume. To his surprise, she’d gone with a similar theme; her outfit was that of a mid-century Vegas showgirl. Bright red sparkles covered her dress, which showed a bit more leg than normal and brushed against her curves, if not outright hugging them. Covering her face was a blazing red mask, adorned with red feathers all across the crown.

  “You do realize we have to sneak off midway through this party, right? Couldn’t have picked something a little less eye-catching?” Much as Nick enjoyed the ensemble, and he certainly did, the pragmatic hurdle it presented was the first thing to come out of his mouth.

  “Oh, you mean like this?” Alice pulled off the headpiece, revealing a slim red domino-style mask, and lowering the larger one down to her hip. “I figure if everyone gets used to seeing the feathers, then as soon as I take them off I’ll halfway disappear. Something Professor Pendleton taught the class. You know, because I’m a Subtlety student and know how to slip out of a room.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I just had to voice my concern,” Nick said, raising his arms in surrender. “And I think it’s a forgivable slip-up. Can you really blame any brain for going momentarily dumb at the sight of you in that outfit?”

  “Now who thinks they’re cute?” Alice pulled the large mask back up and attached it, giving her head a few test shakes to make sure it stayed in place. “But that wasn’t your worst line. Keep it up, and maybe I’ll take us out somewhere fancy once all this is done. Heaven knows I could use a nice meal after Friday’s debacle.”

  “And just think, the weekend isn’t over yet.” Nick wasn’t sure what to say to his friends about their latest trial just yet. There were ways he could poke them along, prodding them to get past the terror and hard realizations they’d been hit with, but the truth was that might be doing them a disservice. The professors had been right to give them such exposure; what was waiting for them after graduation would be worse than any HCP test. Sooner or later, each would have to come to terms with it, or accept that their time in the HCP was done, though he could hopefully take their minds off the issue for at least one night.

  Slowly, Nick walked over to Alice, taking her right hand and tucking his arm around her waist, letting the violin case clatter to the ground. With careful, sharp movements, he began to move them about, turning to a rhythm that wasn’t actually there.

  “Um, what are you doing?”

  “Dancing, obviously.” Nick gave Alice a quick twirl, which she handled gracefully despite her tall heels. “I have to make sure I can move freely in this outfit, just in case, and if you know a better way to test that than dancing I would love to hear it.”

  Another twirl, a quick swing, and Alice was back against him, her face only inches from his.

  “What’s the verdict?” Her voice had gone lower as she began to sway with him, filling in the gaps to whatever mental song he’d selected.

  “Can’t say for sure until I test the dip.” Nick tilted her down, following her all the way until the few inches between them disappeared. Neither could say for sure how long they stayed locked like that, only that when they parted both took a deeper breath than normal.

  “Full stars,” Nick told her, though whether he meant the costume or the kiss was unspecified and irrelevant.

  “Someone is feeling stirred up tonight,” Alice said as she slowly rose to a proper standing position.

  “We’re about to go digging around in your head, kicking over rocks for long-lost secrets, secrets we might not be too happy about once we learn them.” Nick reached out and carefully adjusted one of the feathers on her mask that he’d inadvertently knocked askew. “Things could get very tough, and I wanted to enjoy this small bit of peace we’ve got while it lasts. And to remind you that, no matter what happens, I’m on your side.”

  It was Alice’s turn to kiss him, though she didn’t bother with as much grand lead-up, merely pressing her lips to his in a brief, but still quite enjoyable, embrace.

  “Of all the things you’ve given me reason to doubt, that was never one of them,” Alice assured him. “Now let’s get downstairs. I’d like to squeeze in at least a little partying before we try and interrogate a dream-walker.”

  80.

  Despite the tension from almost every Melbrook resident—an understandable condition, if ever there was one—the party kicked itself off without much issue. There was no denying that the HCP had a strong presence at the event, easily comprising the majority of the guests, but several students had taken the opportunity to bring along friends they’d made in the mundane world. Violet, Will, Thomas, and Jill, currently dressed as masked turtles with presumed crime-fighting skills, had each brought along a friend or two. Selena had brought a relative cluster, though her group paled in comparison to Adam’s, who was apparently quite the social butterfly above ground.

  It was Nick, however, who’d managed to stock the party with the most mundanes, as he was the only one among them not leading a double life. Well, not the same double life, anyway; that allowed him more free time for schmoozing and networking when the occasion arose. Initially, he hadn’t cared that much about the ratio of normal students to HCP attendees, but with the implementation of plan “Shake the Dream-Walker By His Ankles” (at least, that’s what Nick called it in his head), filling the party had become vital. They needed the thickness of a crowd; it made them easier to become lost and, more importantly, added a layer of insulation between themselves and the DVA. Chapman had shown that the department wasn’t above poking in where they didn’t belong, but their agents could only risk so much activity around normal students.

  Even if it bought them no more than an extra six inches of breathing room, Nick would gleefully seize each one. What they were planning was dangerous on multiple fronts; every chance he had to negate some risk was one he would take. Briefly, though for far from the first time in the last few months, his mind flashed back to what the world had been like on his augmented power. Being able to see the lines of causality and push them ever so gently… it was an experience beyond description. What he wouldn’t give for even a peek behind the curtain tonight, some indication of where their path was leading them. Sadly, all he had to work with was his gut, and that had gone noticeably silent in spite of their impending adventure.

  Which was why he elected to pass the time until he vanished with handling the things well within his sphere of control. Nick all but whirled through the party, shaking hands, making introductions, and accepting the alternating compliments and snickers with respect to his costume. He made a notable imprint, ensuring that everyone would remember him being there. As the freely flowing alcohol muddled their minds, ideally the overwhelming existence of Nick Campbell would seep through their hazy memories as well. The goal was to ensure that no one could ever exactly pin down when, if at all, he’d been missing from his own party.

  Making sure the respective activities were up and running was key to that, which was why Nick stopped by the screening area to be certain Camp Blood Death 7: Algae From Beyond the Pale was cranked up and playing in the largely dark room. He may have also lingered there for a few minutes longer than was strictly necessary, taking the opportunity to enjoy a favorite scene. Then it was off to the patio, where the brisk air washed over people who wanted to get away
from the music and dense crowd or smoke, in the case of those who weren’t putting their bodies through endless physical training daily.

  After that it was around to the refreshments section, which was set up in the makeshift kitchen that more responsible people likely used for cooking when renting out the room. There, he found Eliza playing bartender, an act that allowed her to monitor their stock while also excusing herself from too much drinking. Though he’d never admit it to her face, it was a bit of a relief to have Eliza and Jerome skulking about, even if they had reused the same costumes from last year—an otherwise unforgivable sin in his eyes.

  “Good party so far,” Eliza commented, handing over a cocktail that was utterly devoid of anything other than caffeine. She was under strict orders to make virgin drinks for Nick, Alice, and Mary tonight, as all three would want their wits about them in what was to come. “A few people are hitting the keg pretty hard early on; you might have to wean them if you don’t want puke on the floor.”

  “Drunk is good for what we need,” Nick replied. “Don’t let anyone get themselves sick or drive, though. Try diplomacy first, and if that fails, have Jerome steal their spark plugs or whatever. We’ve got a few sleeping bags that can become as many as needed, and most who are that drunk would be fine with just the floor.”

  Their conversation was forced to a halt as Shane and a girl who had come with the other mundane students approached the bar, he ordering water and she getting whiskey neat. Only after the pair had left, leaving Nick with a higher opinion of the woman than when she’d approached, did the discussion continue.

  “Anything else you want done?” Eliza’s eyes flicked to the nearby clock, one of the few pieces of the room that had not come with the rental. Nick had added it, and four more throughout the space, all synced up to be sure anyone who needed to could know the time with a glance. Though it went against his casino-raised nature to include clocks in a space, scheduling and coordination took precedence tonight. Having a clock in every room allowed the key people to watch the time without doing something as telltale as checking a watch.

  “Just keep things moving smoothly,” Nick said. “We’ve only got a couple of hours until the real night starts; I’d like to actually enjoy myself until then. After all, how many more parties with these people am I really going to get?”

  “You could always fly them out, comp them some rooms, that sort of thing,” Eliza suggested. Although she wasn’t entirely sure how comfortable the rest of the Family would be having Heroes around—assuming Nick’s friends graduated, of course—they’d hardly be the first ones to vacation in Vegas. Besides, she liked the effect the group had on him, and deep down she knew a part of her would always be happy to see Vince, no matter the circumstances.

  “I could, and they might even accept, though I doubt I will.” Nick took a sip of his drink, momentarily forgetting that it was nothing but soda and ice cubes. “Here, in this place, things like our Familial ties don’t matter in the same way. Once we leave, it will be different. People like us and people like them can’t associate quite so freely, not without the risk of serious repercussions. I’m sure I’ll still see them—they have proven unexpectedly hard to shake in the past—but it will never be as carefree as what we can manage now.”

  “Given what you have planned for the night, your definition of carefree sort of worries me,” Eliza said.

  Nick permitted himself a small laugh then gave a shrug that caused his suit to ripple down the front. “After a life under Ms. Pips and Gerry, I wouldn’t trust a day that didn’t have at least a little intrigue. That would stress me out far more than our usual routine. But, as Gerry himself would say, you can’t let the worry about what you have to do after sunset ruin your whole day. That’s why I’m going to go do another round about the party, and perhaps even take a tour with Alice on what’s passing for our dance floor.”

  Nick turned, though even if he’d kept staring there would have been no telltale pained expression on Eliza’s face. She was better than that; she was keeping herself together. All she did was glance at the clock, ostensibly because she had to keep an eye on the schedule, and certainly not because she was counting the minutes until Nick would exit the party.

  81.

  The party was fun. People were laughing, the drinks flowed freely, and a small group had even gathered to appreciate Nick’s awful movies. Enjoyment filled the air, but Alex could tell, probably better than anyone, that it wasn’t quite as unrestrained as it would have been even a year prior. He could sense the tingling of people’s nerves and anxiety, holding them back, weighing on their minds in what should have been the lightest of moments. Mary would always be better than he at picking out exact thoughts—he’d made peace with that difference in their skills long ago—but he was worlds above her in terms of seeing the emotions painted across those thoughts.

  It wasn’t just Friday’s exam, though that certainly wasn’t helping things. Alex had noticed the trend for years now. Had this party come when they were freshmen, there would have been unfettered celebration and joy, with all thoughts of what trial came next cast aside as problems for later on. But, with every passing year, they were losing the ability to forget what lay ahead for them, and the looming approach of graduation wasn’t even the worst of it. Bit by bit, they were beginning to get a grasp on their impending career in ways they never could when it was theoretical. Graduation was scary, and what waited beyond that was outright terrifying.

  “Are you the ghost of party fun? Because you look that way.” Alex had been so swept up in monitoring the overall thoughts of the crowd that he’d failed to notice Selena, momentarily apart from her crew of friends, arrive at his side. “Seriously, pairing all black with such a gloomy expression? Little on-the-nose, don’t you think?”

  “Really? You’re going to give me shit about being on-the-nose?” Alex looked her up and down, as if his words wouldn’t make the point alone. Selena was dressed like an opera singer, or as close as one could get with the costume-shop level of quality in her outfit: silver dress with lots of barely attached sequins, a mask that almost but didn’t quite match, and a pair of opera glasses tucked into her purse for anyone who couldn’t put the other hints together.

  “I’m going to give you shit about showing up to a party and moping in the corner. You could have stayed home for that.”

  “And miss the Camp Blood Death series? Surely you jest.” Alex expected the conversation to end there; he and Selena had rebuilt their relationship to that of people who could be around, and sometimes say a few words to, one another, but that was about their limit. Which made it all the more surprising when she slid into one of the open seats next to him.

  “Fair warning, I’m probably about to overstep some boundaries,” Selena said, not pausing to give Alex any chance to reply. “But… I think it’s been long enough. Maybe that’s a callous thing to say, which is why I’ve tried to hold my tongue until now. After six months and a couple of beers, I can’t stomach seeing this anymore. You have to let go, Alex.”

  “Hold your tongue until now? I let myself… drift for a few minutes at one party. Not exactly a long-running issue.”

  Selena tilted her head slightly forward, a gesture he knew all too well meant she was about to call him on his bullshit. Sometimes, Alex hated just how familiar they both were with one another’s body language.

  “You let it show for a few minutes,” Selena corrected. “Maybe the others haven’t noticed—you do a good job putting on the smile when everyone else is watching—but I know you better than that. Like it or not, and yeah, I’m sure the answer there is not, I’m probably better at reading you than anyone else here except Mary, and I might be able to give her a run for her money. I know what you look like when you’re hurting and when you try to hide it. Since school started, that’s all I’ve seen. We all miss her, but you’re carrying it the hardest. I get why, I do. In the same situation, most of us would be tempted to hold the blame on ourselves. But you can’t ke
ep up like this. Sasha wouldn’t want you to.”

  It was the curse of all telepaths (or Supers with telepath-like abilities whose exact natures were under debate) that those who could read minds often allowed themselves to forget their way was not the only one to see what people were hiding. Because of that, Alex had no prepared response, no quick denial or rebuttal to the truth that Selena had laid bare between them. She’d seen past the false wall he’d been holding in place all semester… since May, really. And now that his facade was ripped away, Alex was struck by an unexpected realization:

  He didn’t want to deny it.

  He had spent so long like this, holding it in, trying to act like things were normal, that now that his secret was exposed, he didn’t have the strength to try and reel it back.

  “I just… I want to tell her I’m sorry.” Alex lowered his head along with his voice, becoming almost inaudible under the loud chatter and reverberating music. “There was a moment that, if I had been stronger, it would have all gone differently. She’d still be here. My mistake, my weakness, is what cost Sasha her life.”

  “That might be true, but none of us knows how things would have played out even if you had been able to stop your opponent. Furthermore, you seem to be operating under a very misguided assumption here,” Selena told him. “Sasha didn’t get killed because of you. Sasha gave her life to try and save you. Those are two very different things. She did what a Hero would do and prioritized the life of someone else, someone she cared about, over her own.”

  “What’s the difference?” Alex asked.

  “It means she gave you a gift. You can see this as her being dead because of you, or you being alive because of her. Personally, I look at it as the latter. Sasha handed you your life, Alex, even though it cost her own. She gave you the ultimate gift anyone can offer. Is this really the way you think she’d want you to spend it? Tearing yourself apart inside because even doing your best—and no one has any doubt you were giving your all—wasn’t enough to stop someone? Moping in secret, trying to hide your pain from the friends that you know would help you carry it? I think this distinction is damned important, because I want you to realize that you’re wasting the last thing Sasha gave you. She wanted you to live, Alex. So start doing it.”