by Hayes, Drew
“In all my years here, I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff, but a freshman crashing a senior party? That is a new one,” said the unnaturally purple-haired girl wearing a red mask . “Thomas, Will, either of you seen this shit?”
A tan man wearing the blue mask and a lean guy wearing the purple both shook their heads to the negative. “Can’t say we have, Violet,” the one in blue replied.
“I’ll be honest: in a way, I respect it,” Violet told her. “I’ve always considered myself to have a big swinging pair—metaphorically, at least—and I don’t think I ever would have worked up the nerve to try a stunt like this when I was a freshman. Our seniors were too damn scary; they barely even seemed human in those crisp white uniforms, all but radiating power. And that’s what takes this from cute to annoying, party-crasher. Because for you to do something like this, it either means we aren’t properly intimidating enough, or you’re just so cocky you pushed past it. So why don’t you go ahead and tell me: which is it? Do we seem like pushovers, or are you too arrogant for your own good?”
“I’m not arrogant,” the jester said, forcing herself to speak above a mumble. “I’m… desperate. The only reason I came tonight is that I need to talk to someone, one of the seniors. In the halls, it’s too chaotic and impossible to catch him, and when I went to his job he was always surrounded by people so I didn’t think I’d be able to bring it up. But you know the worst part about this? I went to all the trouble of crashing your party, even got caught doing it, and I don’t think he even showed up tonight.”
“Who exactly are you looking for?” The one in blue—she was pretty sure he’d been called Thomas—was using a softer voice now. That action earned him a dirty look from Violet, but if he noticed he pointedly chose to ignore it.
“Roy. I need to talk to Roy Daniels.”
“Oh shit, is this a pregnancy thing?” This came from the woman wearing the orange mask, who, true to costume, had brought her beer along with her even as they left the party.
“What?” The jester nearly screeched, only pulling herself back at the last moment. “No, no, I’ve… I’ve never even met… why would I just… it’s not about pregnancy,” she said, finally regaining a bit of control. “It’s about training. I need Roy’s help, or I’m not sure I’ll make it to Christmas.”
Strangely enough, that answer seemed to put the group at ease. The menacing aura dissipated, and she began to wonder if that’s all it had been—just an act designed to put a little fear in her as payback for crashing their event. Perhaps they were less inclined toward retribution when the reasoning was something they, as people who had climbed their way through three years of endless trials and effort, could relate to.
“Why do you need Roy?” Violet asked, her tone indicating that she still held on to a bit more animosity than the rest of the group.
“Look, it’s kind of an embarrassing situation, and I’d rather not explain twice. If you’re going to beat me up in the parking lot, let’s just get that done. I’ll heal up and catch Roy another time.”
To her surprise, that got a laugh out of Violet, and with it, the last of her faux-wickedness seemed to dissolve into the air. “I like this one! She’s got moxie.”
“What’s moxie?” the jester asked.
“It’s what old people call guts,” the woman in the orange mask replied.
“And she’s got it,” Violet reiterated. “Don’t worry, kid; we’re not going to beat you up or anything stupid like that. We just wanted to spook you, give you a bit of the same fear our seniors put into us when we crossed a line. But it seems like you didn’t pull this stunt just for kicks, so we might be willing to let it slide. In fact, I’ll even let you in on a secret: Roy isn’t at the party yet, but he will be here. Probably within the hour, if I’ve got the timetables right. You want to come back in and wait for him?”
“I… yes, very much so.” The jester began to move forward, but Violet threw out an arm to stop her. Wordlessly the four drew in closer to bar her path. It was a movement so fluid and natural she wasn’t sure if the group even realized they’d done it; they were just that accustomed to responding to each other’s signals.
“Two things, frosh. One: we’re going to need a name. Sorry, but there’s a lot of you freshmen right now so it’s hard to keep track. And two: you can save the long version for when Roy gets here, but if pregnancy is off the table then at least give us a snapshot of why you’ve been stalking our classmate.”
“Stalking isn’t really… My name is Ashley. Ashley Beck,” she said, deciding it was best to move forward rather than defend her previous actions. “And I need to talk to Roy because the rumors all say he’s indestructible, which makes him the only person who might be able to help me train.”
88.
“I won’t try to convey to you what Shelby Adair was going through during this time. Words would fail to capture it, and the scenes are more of the grisly same,” Abridail told them as the small house around them began to fade from existence. “I gave you a mere glimpse of it, and you know how horrible that felt. For Shelby, it was endless, happening at least once a day, if not more. And, terrible as that imagery was for you all, not even Alice can understand what it was like for Shelby to see such things and witness not just death, but the death of a daughter she loved so very much.”
“Why… why did her power start showing her that?” Alice asked, trying to wrap her head around what her mother must have been going through. Even those few seconds were haunting and awful. Getting constant doses of it, day after day. It was a question of when, not if, one’s sanity would break.
“To this day, no one I have entered the dreams of knows. Powereds may not have control of their gifts, but physical stimuli is often part of what triggers the abilities. Childbirth does unique things to a brain, releasing chemicals in different amounts. Perhaps the new manifestation was a reflection of that. Or… perhaps you were meant to die, Alice Adair. There is no one future: Shelby only sees the most likely of outcomes, but in your case she saw death at every turn. Do you remember when I asked if you believe in fate?”
“Yes.” It had been a year ago, but the interaction was still seared into her mind. She’d turned that conversation over in her head countless times, searching for the slightest of clues. “You told me that you didn’t know if you believed in destiny or not, though, if it was real, you were pretty sure I didn’t have one.”
“And now you know why,” Abridail said. “If such a creature as Fate exists, then it is hard to deny that you were not a long-lived part of its plan.”
“You also told me I wasn’t the only one in our group,” Alice pointed out.
“Whoa, what now?” Nick had been largely silent, staying at a respectful distance as Alice worked through the emotional subject matter, but that minor revelation startled him into speech. “Was someone else supposed to die?”
Though Mary said nothing, she knew Nick’s mind was in that wreckage of a car. Twisted metal, burned tires, utter destruction, yet one lone baby who had miraculously survived even when his parents didn’t. She’d hoped he’d given up trying to discover whether the wreck was the result of his uncontrolled abilities or not, but deep down, she knew Nick wasn’t one to easily let go of anything. In most cases it worked to his advantage, though with this there was a very real chance it could destroy him.
“What happened to Shelby sent waves through the timeline, eventually impacting all of the world,” Abridail said. “The first ones were smaller, yet real enough to cause a difference. I can’t track everything that changed because of her, but some are more easily traced than others. We’ll get there later, though. For now, I just wanted you to know Shelby was dealing with that—with what you just saw—endlessly, for months. And, as you can imagine, it began to take a toll.”
The world reformed, though this time they weren’t in the small house. Instead, it was a bar, soft and cozy, with plenty of room between tables. Sitting at a large booth off in the corner were four people, thre
e of whom Alice was all too familiar with. Professor Pendleton, Professor Hill, and Charles Adair occupied three seats; the fourth was held by Globe. None of them looked as cheery as they had at the wedding, but her father seemed especially beaten down: sunken eyes, twitchy fingers, and a noticeable loss of the muscular weight he’d been carrying.
“It’s getting worse,” Charles said, sipping perhaps a bit too freely on the glass before him. “I’ve tried everything. Nannies, cooks, butlers. I’m spending almost all my downtime on the business just to pay for the staff, but no matter how many safeguards I put into place, she keeps having the visions. That power is too damn strong; even Blaine’s touch can only keep it suppressed for an hour or so, at the most. Shelby’s afraid to go in Alice’s room anymore, like she thinks even being around her will make them come true. I don’t… She’s not eating, at least not enough. She’s pulling further and further inside every day. The only time she shows any of her old spark is when she’s asking me… begging me…”
“You can’t do it.” Sean Pendleton was far younger than Alice knew him now—younger, and without the world-weary expression he’d no doubt gained during his tenure in prison. “Everything you’ve been researching, it’s all been theoretical. You’re years away from—”
“Were you under the impression that I didn’t know that?” Charles snapped, whipping his head up from the depths of his glass. For almost the first time since they’d begun peeking into the memories of the past, Alice recognized her father in this young Hero. That was the Charles she knew: distant, powerful, and unwilling to take anyone’s shit unless there was profit in it.
“I am more aware than any of you just how far we are from being able to run even the slightest of tests safely. When I told Shelby about this it was all a distant-future kind of thing, perhaps ten or more years down the road, a fun project to discuss when we would lay awake at night. I never imagined it would become the lone hope she’d cling to.”
“But it is,” Blake Hill said, his own voice somber. “I talked to her last week. Charles isn’t wrong. I honestly think the idea that she might be able to convince him is all that’s keeping her going anymore.”
“Then we have to find new things to keep her going,” Sean protested.
“She’s watching her daughter die every day, Sean.” It was the first time Globe had spoken at the table, the first time Alice had ever heard his voice. She was a bit taken aback by how gentle it was. From the reputation, she’d been anticipating something a bit more authoritative and commanding. “Worse, she’s watching herself indirectly cause Alice’s death. I may not be blood, but I love Shelby like family. I know how strong she is. Still, I think you might be asking too much of her. We’ve seen fellow Heroes broken by lesser sights, and they aren’t enduring them every day. Besides, I don’t think any of you have realized exactly why Shelby is so set on precisely this method.”
“Because if it works, she’ll have control over her visions,” Blake said.
“And if it doesn’t?” Globe asked.
“We’re still too early in the research to say for sure,” Charles told him. “Best case, failure means nothing happens and she’s stuck with the same problems. But we’re talking about tinkering with parts of the brain we barely understand. There’s real risk of death, brain damage—hell, we might even make the problem worse.”
“Which is why I keep saying you can’t do it,” Sean reiterated.
“And which is exactly why I think Shelby refuses to let go of the idea.” Globe looked the table over carefully, visibly weighing his words as he doled out the hard truth to Shelby’s brothers and husband. “What none of you have considered, have let yourselves consider, is that Shelby is a smart woman. She understands how risky the procedure would be. She’s counting on it. Because if it works, she’s cured; seeing as her vision trances are always the cause of Alice’s deaths, then that risk is removed. And if it fails badly… then she probably dies, in mind, at least, if not body as well.”
“Why the hell would our sister be counting on that?” Sean demanded, starting to rise from his seat before Blake put a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Because she’s always the one who causes Alice’s death.” Charles forced the words out slowly as realization dawned. “So, if she cures herself, she thinks our daughter would be safe. And if she dies, if she pulls herself out of Alice’s life, she can’t be around to cause Alice’s death, now can she?”
“Shelby wouldn’t…” Sean didn’t even bother finishing the half-formed protest. His sister would absolutely be willing to trade her life for that of someone she loved. For her daughter, it wouldn’t even be a second thought. “Then that’s all the more reason not to do it. She’s not in her right state of mind.”
“No, she isn’t,” Blake agreed. “But if we don’t do something, I’m not sure she’ll ever be in a right state of mind again. She’s wasting away, Sean. This is torture; it’s killing her piece by piece. If we don’t make a choice, it might be made for us.”
The noise of the bar faded as Abridail stepped forward, interrupting the hushed, tense conversation. “It wasn’t this night, but eventually a decision was reached. I trust you can all infer what it was.”
“Why show me this?” Alice asked. “And how? I thought you perused my mom’s memories; she’s not even here. You could have shown us her actual procedure; wouldn’t that have been more helpful?”
“I am a dream-walker, Alice. I have seen the dreams and memories of far more than just your mother. In fact, I may be the lone person in the world who has witnessed these events from all sides. As to why I didn’t jump to the procedure—what your mother went through would be no help to you. Hers was a very different attempt than yours, with almost nothing in common. I showed you this moment because I wanted you to understand your father’s situation.” Abridail gestured to the hunched, diminished figure of Charles Adair.
“His burden. His failure. His unfathomable guilt. Because what Charles Adair did after he failed your mother was impossible to forgive. It is not, however, impossible to understand.”
89.
The scene before them began to fade once more, but this shift wasn’t nearly as smooth as the previous transitions. All around them, the world flickered unsteadily, like a television channel losing its signal. The images became blurry as they began vanishing from sight.
“It might not be Oscar music, but I think that means our time is almost up,” Nick said.
“No!” Alice whirled on him, as though Nick had some sort of influence on the limitations of the Super keeping them suspended in this trance. “It can’t be done. We haven’t really learned anything yet.”
“We learned why your mother was the first one to undergo the procedure. Why she kicked this all into motion. It might not seem like it now, but I think once you have a moment of peace, you’re going to realize how important that is.” Mary carefully put a hand on Alice’s shoulder for reassurance, even though she had to stretch to do so.
“But we didn’t get any damn clues. Any hints on where she might be,” Alice protested, looking to Abridail, who offered a small shrug in reply.
“I did warn you that there is information I lack, your mother’s whereabouts among it,” he said.
“Yet it seems like there is something you know that’s worthwhile,” Nick replied. “This was a whole lot of preamble if you don’t have shit to say. You don’t strike me as someone to give us the pointless runaround, so how about you skip a few scenes and cut to the good stuff?”
The world flickered again, this time engulfing them with longer periods of darkness. When they could see once more, everyone took note of Abridail giving a slow, solemn shake of his head.
“I refuse. Our deal was that I would show this in my own way. I need you—I need Alice—to see things as they occurred. It’s what Shelby would want. I am sorry your time ran out, but you’ll just have to find your way back again, if you want the rest of the story.”
“Seeing as you
have no leads on Globe or Shelby, we might have trouble selling our group on setting up another one of these sessions,” Nick told him. “Can you give us something to work with? Any tidbit that might help us talk them into putting us down here again?”
Abridail paused, long enough for another flicker—the longest yet—to surge through the world. “I do not know exactly how you were turned from Powereds to Supers, nor could I replicate the procedure in any manner. However, I do know the source of the process, the place where most of the advancements sprang from. We are almost to that part of the tale, so it will be waiting for you should you all return.”
“This would be a lot easier if you could just show up in our dreams,” Alice grumbled.
“It would be, but after you understand where your change came from, you’ll grasp why I’m unable to do so.” Abridail’s voice was getting thinner, like he was floating away from them, even though he appeared to be standing in exactly the same spot.
“Finding out where the procedure came from… I think I can make that work,” Nick said. “I was hoping for something juicy, like why the hell Globe was so deeply involved with the Adair and Hill families, but maybe pragmatic is better for the pitch I have to make.”
“Far better,” Abridail told him, “because what you’re talking about is no mystery at all. Though Charles Adair has spent untold sums of money to bury the truth from the world, not even he had the resources to strip away the memories of his fellow Heroes.”
“What do you mean?” Alice was almost yelling now, driven by necessity rather than anger. Abridail was slipping away like the rest of the dream world; it was all she could do to hear him. But she did want to hear him, if he could shine any light on why her father had been so close with a man who would go on to become a world-famous criminal.
