The Supers of Project 12: The Complete Superhero Series

by Angel Lawson

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re not alone.”

  “I’m not really sure that does.”

  “I’ll answer all of your questions. I promise, but right now I need some sleep. I have a feeling everything that went on tonight isn’t over.”

  “No,” he agrees. “Not by a long shot.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Astrid

  Even though he hates them, Astrid walks out of her room the following morning to find a fresh box of doughnuts left by Quinn, and a bottle of her favorite drink. He’s gone but the coffee pot is warm and there’s a note stuck to the side.

  For Owen,

  I doubt he wants to poison his body with that crap you call a drink.

  -Q

  She thinks he likes her. Like, really likes her. Doughnuts from Quinn is a pretty big deal.

  It’s all weird, because she’s never had a relationship like this in her life. She’s not sure she’s ready for it although damn, she enjoys the way he looks at her, the way he makes her feel. Neither of them have much experience, but they’re figuring it out together and that makes him even more special. Everything else is scary right now, but not Quinn. A quick scan of the kitchen tells her that he’s getting comfortable, like her. A bowl of tangerines sits on the counter. A box of tea. In the pantry she saw the huge tub of protein powder he drinks after workouts. And now? She’s given him Atticus’ room.

  Yeah, he’s moved in and she doesn’t mind.

  Blankets rustle on the couch and bare arms reach out in a stretch. They’re long and tan. Unaware that she’s watching, Owen sits up and rubs his messy hair, giving her a perfect view of his back. A tattoo she can’t make out is inked on the wide expanse of his shoulder. He’s leaner than Quinn, who is built like a house made of brick, but his muscles are toned. Solid. She hasn’t seen him fight but she imagines he’s graceful with an opponent. She may need to train him herself. He’ll need to get up to speed.

  “Good morning,” she finally says, making him aware she’s here. And watching. Okay, maybe being a little bit of a perv.

  “Morning,” he replies, looking over his shoulder.

  Harry Styles pads out of her room and walks around the couch. Astrid watches as Owen stiffens when the cat comes nearby. “Are you seriously afraid of cats?”

  “I’m not afraid,” he says, standing and stretching again. He’s wearing the shorts Astrid gave him the night before and damn, yeah, his body is fine.

  “Quinn left you coffee,” she says, getting a cup out of the cabinet. “And there’s doughnuts.” She glances at the bowl. “And uh, fruit, if you want that instead. It’s my understanding some people like fruit.”

  “Coffee and a doughnut would be awesome.” He skirts around Harry and takes a seat at the counter. She fills and pushes the cup in front of him. He drinks it black. His eyes perk open a little from the jolt of caffeine and he says, “Right now I’d love a little information about what the hell is going on here.”

  So Astrid tells him. Everything.

  Starting with the death of her parents, her arrival at the group home, the doctors, the tests, the echo and the explosion. He listens carefully, intently, and when she tells him about hearing his echo as a child his heart races in his chest.

  “So we really met as children?” he asks. He truly seems to not remember.

  “Yeah, you lived there with us.”

  He looks at his hands and she knows he’s thinking about the power that runs through them. And that for the first time, he’s not alone.

  Astrid moves to the current part of the story. Atticus. Holden. The arrival of Quinn. Their mission and meeting Casper. She doesn’t tell him about the closet of suits and weapons. Not yet.

  She looks at the clock. “Gah, I’m late. I’ve got this group of recruits coming in for a session. We’re very close to graduation.” She gives him another doughnut. “Eat. Shower. Do whatever. Quinn should be downstairs.”

  She scoops up the cat and passes Owen on the way out of the room. She feels his eyes on her back. Hears his pulse throbbing. It’s a lot of information, but it’s part of their life now. Their destiny.

  He’s one of them.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Quinn

  Three months as a computer camp instructor didn’t prepare Quinn for locating a ghost.

  Casper has vanished. All connections to his system are silent, nothing but the incessant scrolling code on the face of his watch. Last night he thought it was a signal that Casper is in trouble. He probably is, but more and more he’s pretty sure the stuff on the watch is nothing more than a glitch.

  He plugs a usb cord in the back of the watch and drops it on the desk and flips on the monitor in the gym. Astrid stands in the middle of the ring where they made love the first time. The remaining recruits surround her. He’s annoyed to see Rowe is still amongst the finalists. What a prick.

  A sharp knock on the door draws his attention away from the video. Owen stands in the doorway. “Astrid said you may be down here.”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “Futilely looking for a clue on Casper but I’ve got nothing.”

  Owen takes the nearest chair and gestures with his coffee mug at the screen showing the gym. “So she’s like the head of this training program, right?”

  “Yeah.” Astrid and her team have moved from the mat to the parkour course. She provides the example, quickly running over the top and sides of cushioned walls. She makes a long leap at the final part, her hands grappling for the edge. Even without special gloves and shoes, she nails it. “She’s tough.”

  “I figured that out the night at the warehouse. A little ruthless, too.”

  Quinn snorts. “You mean the explosives? We’ve been working on that sort of impulsiveness.”

  “Really? And she’s on board with this?”

  He called it and Quinn’s not going to pretend otherwise. “Woman has a mind of her own, but I’m still trying.”

  “Good luck with that.” Owen leans back in his chair. “So are you two a thing?”

  He’s not a jealous guy—well he thinks he’s not. There’s no mistaking that Owen realizes Astrid is beautiful. She just is. There’s also no way he can deny that if there’s another guy out there that doesn’t trigger her echo, she may not need him so much. He answers truthfully. “Depends on the definition.”

  The blond just nods. “Gotcha.”

  Rowe works his way through the run, nearly slipping at one point but his momentum pushes him through. He’s a beast. Maybe a sociopath. Probably just a dick. From what Astrid tells him, he’s probably perfect for Jensen’s program.

  His phone vibrates, sending a push alert from the Crescent City news.

  “Turn on the TV,” he says, pointing to the remote. “Channel Six.”

  Owen presses the button and Demetria appears on screen. She’s standing at a podium, holding a press conference. The man that introduced her the night before stands behind her, next to the Crescent City seal. Cameras flash in the background and the crawl at the bottom of the screen says, “Demetria Holmes, CEO of the WIND-E Corporation, Speaks About Gala Disaster.”

  “Members of the city council, the press, and citizens of Crescent City, I’ve come to address the unfortunate events of the Gala last night. I’m heartbroken that my vision for helping the youth of our less fortunate areas was overshadowed by a ruthless person looking to destroy my event. The police have told me bottles of champagne had traces of the street drug Pixie Dust. This resulted in hallucinations and sickness from those who partook. I’ve been assured that whoever is behind this is already under surveillance and will be brought to justice soon.

  “My dedication and work for the less fortunate in the city will not be stopped by petty members of society. I have big plans for all of us. My corporation is going to make a difference, and protecting my community is only the beginning.”

  The camera pulls off of her and back to the regular news. With a nod from Quinn, Owen turns the TV off.

 
; “Well that sounded like a threat,” Quinn’s chair creaks when he leans back. “Wonder who it was directed at. I mean, you’re the one that caused the hallucinations.”

  “About the drinks. I was trying to help everyone. She’s the one that started the fairy brigade.” He sighs. “So you know her? Or did, when you were kids?”

  “She was in the group home. You really don’t remember anything about it?”

  “Nope. Not a thing.” He scratches his chin. “I mean, I knew there was some memory loss when I moved in with my aunt. I thought it was from the accident with my parents.”

  “Maybe it was the explosion. I don’t have a clear memory of you, or really anything else, from that day.”

  “Maybe so.” He thinks for a moment. “You know I did have some bandages and burns when I got to my aunts. Nasty welts. Do you think…?”

  “Definitely.” Quinn nods. He holds up his leg and pulls his pant leg up. A thick scar arcs down his leg. “That’s mine.”

  “Woah.”

  Quinn drops his pant leg and sits back. “When did you first notice your powers?”

  “My aunt homeschooled me. But I was allowed to play with the other kids in the neighborhood. This one jerk was always messing with me. Jimmy Webster.” He snorts. “What a tool. Anyway, he loved to freak all the younger kids out. Tell them about monsters and boogie men and shit like that. One day I just had it. I thought about the creepy one-armed guy he kept saying was peeking in our windows, waiting to kill us in our sleep, and I shit you not, that guy appeared. Right outside Jimmy’s window.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Hell yes I did, even though I didn’t know it at the time. Jimmy looked out and saw the boogie man in the window and lost his shit. Started crying, wailing. His parents called the police. Everyone figured he made it up and in the end it just ruined his bully rep, you know. Not such a tough guy.”

  “That’s pretty deranged.”

  “Yeah, so is the ability to manipulate time and space and conjure things out of thin air.”

  The watch beeps on the desk and the computer connected to it kicks in gear. The code scrolls down the page. Rolling in wave after wave.

  “What’s that?” Owen asks, leaning forward.

  “I’m really not sure. Started going bonkers last night.”

  The police scanner jumps to life at the very same moment, crackling and blinking across the room. Quinn stands and listens to the latest report. Astrid has it set to only go off for local, relevant calls. He shuts it off. This is definitely relevant.

  “What’s that?”

  “Break-in at the chemistry lab on campus. Seems like our bearded hipster came back home. I’ve got to go get Astrid.”

  “James?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is he doing there?”

  Quinn walks to the door that leads to the gym. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Astrid

  The chemistry lab is in the middle of the campus. It’s daylight and crowds of people surround the building, curious to find out what’s going on. Why there’s a full SWAT team and all their weapons aimed at the building?

  “Jensen won’t answer the phone.” She tucks it in the pocket of her top. They’re in the dark, too.

  “Looks like it’s turned into some kind of stand-off.” Quinn leans over the parking garage wall. They’re on the third floor and the building is right below. “Without Jensen’s intel, I have no idea how we’re getting in.”

  She touches the com. “Casper…you sure you’re not there?”

  Silence.

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

  She takes a deep breath and says, “So if we’re going to play detective we’ve got to assume James broke into that building for something that has to do with the Pixie Dust—maybe an errand for Demetria or maybe something went wrong with the Gala? Other than you know, us crashing it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So, what? He goes in, gets cornered?”

  “I can only imagine there are some lethal chemical combinations in that building.”

  “Owen said Demetria wanted to bring down the city.” Astrid looks over the wall, searching for any sort of opportunity. She fusses with the electronics on her mask. “I just need a blueprint or something.”

  “Blueprint requested. Watt’s School of Sciences and Laboratory,” a robotic voice says in her ear. It’s not Casper. Or Atticus, but it will do. Schematics pop up on the screen, including an overlay of the building. “Thanks, Atticus—oh and you too Casper,” she whispers to the sky.

  There’s a ventilation shaft on the rooftop. Quinn points it out. “If we jump at the right angle, I think the cops won’t see us.”

  “If?” she asks. “What if they do?”

  “Duck.”

  There’s a grappling hook attached to Quinn’s belt. He releases it with the push of a button and it slings across the space between the parking garage and the science building. The force is so hard, Quinn has to hold onto the ledge of the building and it jerks him when it finds a home. A few yanks confirm it’s attached.

  “The end is magnetic. Casper told me that.”

  She gives him a squeeze as he lifts her close to his body. “We’ll find him,” she says. “He’s definitely too sneaky to get caught.”

  He pauses and presses his lips to hers. Her heart flutters and she hears his pound away. Without another word, he yanks on the grips of the cord attached the cable and they zoom through the air.

  The wind rips through Astrid’s hair and the feeling of flying is exhilarating. Quinn lands and she releases his body, dropping to the rooftop with two feet.

  “We need to add flying to these suits,” she says, pulling her hair out of her eyes.

  He laughs. “I think that’s a different kind of suit.”

  Ping!

  They both duck from the unmistakable sound of a bullet hitting metal.

  “Guess they saw us,” she says, breathing hard. The gravel rooftop presses into her knees. Good thing Quinn’s aim is accurate, because they’re right at the vent hood.

  “Whoever is on the roof, stand down. There is an emergency situation in progress. You’re now part of a crime scene. Put your hands up and walk to the edge of the rooftop.”

  The voice echoes against the buildings and the sound of helicopter wings beat against the sky. Her mind rakes through the tools on her suit. There has to be something that can help buy time.

  Quinn grabs her hand and holds it in the air.

  “What the hell? I’m not surrendering.” She jerks away from him. He doesn’t stop and holds his other hand high over his head, balled in a tight fist. He’s got her wrist in a lock.

  “Astrid.” There’s no mistaking the warning in his voice.

  Warning for what.

  But he splays his left hand and then the right, dropping hers, but not before activating one of the buttons on her cuff. Cloudy smoke envelops them. Then comes the sound of the electrical system frying—for a mile around. Transformers explode, shuddering and crackling under Quinn’s directive. The science building, which Astrid hadn’t even considered as being alive, dies beneath her feet.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing her hand. In the smoky, obscured air he finds the door to the vent and opens it. Astrid hops up and with a push takes the plunge into the dark.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Quinn

  The scene in the laboratory is not what he expected.

  James and Jensen are in a standoff with nothing but a row of black-topped lab desks between them. James has no weapon, but a long row of chemicals is lined up innocuously across the flat table at the front of the room. Quinn knows they’re dealing with more than simple potions because Jensen’s gun is raised. The determined expression on his face says he’ll be happy to shoot him.

  “It’s about time you got here,” the agent says when they walk into the room. They walk, because Jensen is a friend—family to Astrid. She doesn’t hesitate when
she sees the men standing a few feet apart with murder in their eyes.

  The set of her shoulders and the angle of her jaw says everything. She’s not losing another family member to this guy.

  “Took a while to get in. No one answered my call,” she says, keeping her eye on James. “What’s going on here?”

  “We’ve been watching this guy ever since you described him weeks ago—after the warehouse fire.” Jensen gives her wink. “Good tip, by the way.”

  She takes a step forward and James lifts his cane with the curved hook on the end from off the table. He holds it like a bat. “If I break the glass and even a drop of the liquid inside combines, the mixture will blow up three city blocks and bring the building down on top of us.”

  “Got it,” Quinn says. “You’re ready and willing to kill us all. Want to tell us why?”

  “Tell us, James,” Astrid says. “We’re willing to listen.”

  He strokes his long beard and his eyes brighten. Well played, Quinn thinks, recalling Owen’s comment that James is a narcissist. It’ll buy them time and help them figure out where Demetria falls in all of this. He waits in the doorway, looking for a chance to do something—anything—to take this madman down.

  “This isn’t about me,” he says, unconvincingly. “Demetria Holmes is behind this whole thing. You know who I’m talking about? The woman at WIND-E. The self-proclaimed savior of The Swamp.” He takes a quick breath. “She came to me two years ago. I thought it was to fund a grant I’d applied for. I’d created a new pharmaceutical to help with depression and fatigue. She’d heard about it and wanted to see it in action. I had a test group, off the record of course, of students willing to be part of my experiment.”

  “You experimented on students illegally? And who the hell is she?” Astrid asks.

  “Wendy—or you know, WIND-E. The kind of narcissist that names her business after herself. If that even is her real name.”