“One can only hope. Hal, if you would? Give the lady a kiss, there’s a good boy.”
Holly was spun around, and yes, there was Hal, in sweats and a T-shirt, looking completely blank, as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. Still pinning Holly’s arms, he leaned down and kissed her.
It was only a moment—Holly, desperately trying to understand what was happening, had been so stunned by Hal’s action that for a moment, she stood still as he kissed her.
And that moment was all it took. Something was placed snugly into her left ear.
And then Holly Owens went away.
“I’m telling you,” Holly said, “I’m feeling fine.”
“Huh.” Valerie shook her head. “If you define fine as looking like utter shit, then yeah, you’re more than fine. How long since you’ve slept well?”
“Awhile,” she admitted. “Just having the weirdest dreams.”
They walked down the hallway, headed toward the Squadron lounge. Their bootheels tapped alarmingly loud on the polished floor, as if the entire headquarters had stilled to listen to their conversation.
“Hols,” Valerie said quietly. “It’s been going on for weeks now. You need to talk to Medical.”
“I know.” Holly sighed, rubbed her eyes. “I know. I just hate doctors.”
Valerie laughed. “Don’t tell that to Doctor Hypnotic.”
“Yeah,” Holly said. “About that. I don’t think …”
She was going to tell Valerie that she didn’t think she was going to keep seeing Hal—lately, whenever she would think about Hal, she found herself cringing, as if afraid of his touch. She didn’t know why, but not only was she no longer attracted to Doctor Hypnotic, she was afraid of him.
But that was when they arrived at the lounge, and Holly saw Blackout seated in one of the plush chairs, an old-fashioned paperback novel in his hands. And her feet stopped moving as she watched him read, saw the smooth lines of his face, the dark intelligence in his eyes. The sensual curve of his lips.
She had to know what those lips felt like.
Valerie said something to her, but she didn’t listen. Holly was too busy sauntering over to George Greene, planting herself in his lap and locking her lips onto his.
He let out a surprised squawk … and then wrapped his arms around her and thoroughly kissed her back.
When the kiss ended, she smiled at him. “I’ve been thinking about you.” And she was surprised to realize that was exactly right—she had been thinking about George, about how he was so dark and aloof and so mysterious. And so very, very attractive.
He was smiling at her, but it was cautious, guarded. “But … what about Doctor Hypnotic?”
“Who?” she said. And then she kissed Blackout again.
A week later, they disclosed their relationship to Extrahuman Resources. As a result, they were moved into joint quarters, a place big enough to accommodate both of them.
The press loved it—Blackout and Angelica were the newest It Couple, and their faces plastered New Chicago. Corp loved that the press loved it.
And Doctor Hypnotic, strangely, didn’t seem bothered by it in the least. He’d even wished them well.
Holly was relieved. Hal would find someone wonderful, she knew, just as she’d found George.
Just as good as living with the man she loved, and fighting by his side? Holly Owens, finally, was sleeping well again, safe in Blackout’s arms.
CHAPTER 20
LUSTER
I don’t mind this life as much as I thought. And people ask very few questions when you’re giving them what they want most in the world.
—Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated 1988,
the day after the opening of his fertility clinic
Lester squinted into the strobes of the vids. Even a Light power had limits, and more and more often, as they grew more and more prevalent, he found the swarms of press suffocating.
That was a laugh. Him, Luster, darling of the cameras, averse to the very thing that gave him his popularity. His power.
“Luster! Luster, tell us about you and Vixen.”
“She’s standing right here, mate. Ask her yourself.”
Valerie stood to his left, her hand locked around the elbow of Jumper, a teleporting bank robber. Jumper was currently wearing stun-cuffs and a crop of bruises, courtesy of Luster’s girlfriend.
He grinned to himself. A woman like Vixen was useful to have around. Not to mention smart, beautiful, capable … pick your adjective, the woman was it.
Valerie threw him a wink, and for a moment he lost himself, the sounds of the press on the steps of Squadron HQ fading out. There had been a lot of women before Valerie, but none remotely as interesting. Luster, usually bored after a night or a handful of nights, had found himself unable to think about much except Valerie after being with her for only one night. And here it was, eight months since that first night together, and he was still happy. Wonders never ceased.
“Enough simpering for the cameras,” said a voice in his radio. “Get Jumper to a holding cell. I’m waiting to interrogate him.”
Lester rolled his eyes. “Right away, your lordship.” Ever since his promotion to Team Alpha, Hal had been even more of a pillock than usual. Which was at least ten times as much as anyone else Luster knew.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Luster. I’m still leading this op.”
“Get stuffed, Hypnotic.” Lester dialed his comm off and jerked his head at Valerie. “Time to wrap up. That’s all for tonight, ladies and gents.” He tipped them a salute, and in the cacophony of light and questions, the three extrahumans backed through the doors of headquarters.
“Man, they love you two,” Jumper said, blinking the strobes from his eyes. “You’re like, bigger celebrities than Hollywoodland. It’s kinda awesome.”
“You just tried to teleport an entire vault out of Chicago Trust,” Valerie said, giving him a shake. “You don’t get to talk.”
“Hey, just making conversation.” Jumper slumped down the corridor to the interrogation bay.
Hypnotic stood up like a jackknife when Valerie and Lester buzzed through the door. “Took you fucking long enough.”
Valerie stopped short and even Lester paused. Hal didn’t swear. He and Night were so Hero-Code Approved it was nearly sickening.
Lester revised that statement in his head as Valerie apologized, giving Hal one of those melting smiles that had first made Lester stop and look at her. She wasn’t delicate, not by a long shot, but she was beautiful. Even Hal had to see that.
But Hal wasn’t around much these days. These days, Hypnotic held the reins. Sure, he smiled and clowned when Angelica and Blackout were in evidence, but Lester saw the hardness in Hal’s eyes, the stone of resentment when it was just Lester.
Hal wasn’t over Angelica. And he wasn’t fine, no matter what he said about it. When Blackout’s back was turned, Hal had a look that Lester knew well, one he’d seen on Donnie Bradford’s face, his father’s face, too often.
Hal wanted to hurt someone.
“Leave,” Hal snapped. “I’ll handle this since you’re so busy posing.”
“That one’s a bit musty, don’t you think?” Lester said. “At least pick a slag that hasn’t got dust all over it, Harold. Like, ‘I’ll handle this since you’re so madly in love with Vixen’ or ‘I’ll handle this, since you’re so much better-looking and should be the one posing for the vids.’”
“Leave,” Hal roared, and Lester, never the fool, beat a hasty retreat.
Valerie kissed him on the cheek when they were back in the corridor. “I’m going to check in with Ops and file my report. Don’t let him get you too riled, all right?”
“I don’t get riled, luv. I just get even.” He watched Valerie walk away until she turned the corner, then he slipped into the viewing room off the bay.
“Come to watch feeding time at the zoo?”
Lester jumped at the sound of Blackout’s voice. “Christo on the cross, George. Don’t
sneak up on a bloke.”
Blackout shrugged. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget. I just … blend in. With the Dark.”
In the interrogation bay, Hal stood behind Jumper, and put his hands on the man’s shoulders. Jumper shuddered as Hal talked, painting a picture with his power, sending the thief into his own world, plucking out his secrets.
Lester shivered right along with the amiable bank robber. One of his recurring nightmares was being trapped in the Mental wing, listening to the drone of Hal’s voice. Hal’s voice became his father’s, became Hal’s—an endless cacophony in his head until Valerie finally shook him awake.
Thank Jehovah for Valerie.
“Our boy’s in fine form,” he said to distract himself. Nightmares weren’t real. He was a grown man now, and he knew that.
“It must be awful,” Blackout said. “To have a voice in your head that’s a stranger’s.”
“Voice in your head, period,” Lester said. “Creepy.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” George murmured, and Lester got the distinct feeling Blackout wasn’t talking to him. “If it’s a friendly voice. A familiar voice …” He shook himself and stopped talking.
“What the bloody hell are you on about, George?” Lester demanded. After a moment, “George?”
But Blackout had vanished, whether out the door or into Shadow, Lester didn’t know.
The close little room was hot, but Luster couldn’t shake his chill.
CHAPTER 21
NIGHT
Going to roll out the comlink today. Could be the answer to everything, if it works the way it should.
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #73
Rick.”
Night froze. Then he lost count of his reps, so he started over. A scowl on his face, he pushed up. And again.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout, mate,” Luster said, all bullshit charm and smarm. The man hunkered down on his haunches as Night did his push-ups. “Need a spotter?”
“For push-ups? Not likely.”
“For the barbell.”
“No need.”
“You haven’t done your free weights yet,” Luster said, with that I-Know-Everything tone in his voice. “You’re like clockwork, you are, and more regular than an old lady on her fiber pills. First you put in your run, then floor work, and last is free weights. And then you do some sparring, if anyone’s feeling particularly like getting pulped into next week.”
“You want something, Luster?”
“Right you are,” he agreed after a pause. Pitching his voice low, he said, “I want your thoughts on our brother-in-arms.”
Night arched an eyebrow.
“More to the point, on your brother in Shadow.”
Midpush, Night paused. “What about him?”
“That episode he had, a while back? You know, the one that sent him to Medical for a few days?” Luster lowered his voice even more. “He didn’t just get dizzy, mate. He’d been raging. Ranting like an insane man. You should’ve seen him. In that moment, he wasn’t our Georgie-boy.”
“So what?” Night said, his voice a verbal shrug even as his mind was whirling. He had to play this carefully. Night knew that behind Luster’s brilliant smile were shark’s teeth. “We all get enraged now and then.”
“If it was just that, I’d shrug it off as an adrenaline surge.” Now Luster paused, as if considering his words.
Night pushed up to a seated position and waited, schooling his face to blandness.
“His eyes, man. You should have seen his eyes.” Bradford’s voice was whisper soft, and full of the terror known by small children who wait in the dark for the monsters to steal out of their closets. “They were full of Shadows.”
Silently, Night cursed.
“He said things too. He begged me to make them stop. Said he always hears them. That he can’t keep fighting.” Luster stared hard at Night, his gaze penetrating. “What the hell was he talking about?”
Night shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, modulating his voice for the perfect blend of honesty and concern. “Did you … did you tell Dr. Moore?”
“George warned me not to spill the beans.” Luster snorted. “Like I’d say anything to Moore. Bloody mad-scientist wannabe. But don’t you get it? That was our Georgie, threatening me. And just today, he was commenting about voices in his head.”
Night blew out a breath. He hadn’t known Blackout had succumbed to the Shadow in front of Luster. Damn it. It was a saving grace that Bradford had been so distracted with seducing Vixen that he hadn’t focused on Blackout before now. Clearly, that free pass had expired.
He ran a hand through his hair, raking it away from his face. How to play this? Anything that he said about Blackout, Luster would obviously wonder whether Night, too, was walking a razor’s edge.
And that was scrutiny Night couldn’t allow.
Part of him wished he could. In his own way, Night respected Luster, and he admired the man for being concerned about a teammate. But there was no way on Jehovah’s scorched earth that he was going to tell Bradford, or anyone, the truth about the Shadow. Not about the voices he constantly kept at bay.
Not about the struggle to hold on to his sanity.
So he made himself believe his own words as he said, “It sounds like it was a combination of exertion and stress, making his power twitchy. He had time off after that incident, if I recall. And then he was fine, right? That’s probably all he needed: a bit of rest.”
“Probably,” Luster said slowly. “You’re not convinced?”
“Mostly. But just in case there’s something more here … well. You and I, we’ll keep our eye on him. We’ll make sure he’s in full control of his power. He has been, before and after that one time. I’m sure George is fine, but it’s good for all of us if we’re diligent.” He smiled grimly. “I’m glad you mentioned this. Try not to worry. As I said, I’m sure he’s fine.”
Luster nodded. “Rick, if he’s not … then is George a danger? To himself? To Holly?”
“As much as any extrahuman would be a danger.” Then Night chuckled, and even clapped Luster on the shoulder. “You see yourself blinding Vixen on your off days?”
Bradford laughed. “Right. The woman would hand me my own arse if I even tried to lay a hand on her in violence.”
“There you go. We’ll watch, just in case.” Night smiled again, and this time, it touched his eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
They were all assembled in the main assembly of Squadron headquarters, Teams Alpha through Epsilon, standing at ease as Corp’s latest suit assigned to the extrahumans explained what the latest technological marvel was, how it was guaranteed to make their jobs and lives that much easier. The New Chicago branch should be proud, they were told, because they’d been selected to beta-test the new gadget. That it only made sense for New Chicago—home of Corp global headquarters and R&D—to field-test it wasn’t brought up.
Night stood stoically, counting the seconds until the meeting was over. He was itching to go on patrol, to wrap Shadows around criminals intent on preying on the innocent.
It was a rush whenever he used Shadow in battle.
“So you see,” the suit said happily, “the comlink will put you in touch directly with Operations, in real time. Completely wireless, each with its own unique frequency so that you won’t get stuck on a party line, nor will you have to wait your turn to speak to a free Ops controller. You won’t be reliant on your hover consoles, or on handheld devices that aren’t always conducive to battle conditions. Hard to throw a punch when you’re trying to connect to Ops.”
A few laughs from that comment. Night didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close call.
Next to the suit, a Runner was displaying a white earpiece that looked distinctly like a slug.
The suit went on with the hard sell. “Designed to fit snugly in your ear canal, you’ll have a constant stream of data from Ops.”
“Sounds like it’ll be an overload of info
rmation,” one of the heroes called out.
“You’ll be able to moderate it, of course.” The suit laughed. “You’ll be the one requesting information from Ops, and Ops will get you the data you need directly—whether you’re requesting new equipment or a Runner to be dispatched, or if you need eyes and ears for an upcoming situation.”
“Where is this Ops controller going to be?”
“Ops will be centered in the Academy, right here in New Chicago. Close to your headquarters, close to the Executive Committee, and readily available and in service to all heroes. Over the next few years, Ops will be for all of the United and Canadian States Squadron. But for now, it’s all yours.”
“I don’t fancy having someone yammering at me all the time.” That was Luster. “How’m I supposed to think if there’s a little voice in my head, telling me what to do?”
Night’s lips twitched in amusement.
“Of course, it will take some adjustment,” the suit said. “But once you’re used to having Ops at your beck and call, you’ll wonder how you did your jobs before. Corp wouldn’t have sponsored this technology, let alone given its seal of approval, if we didn’t believe this would be a powerful tool in your arsenal. Try it,” he said like a parent coaxing a toddler to eat. “You might like it.”
“Just what we need,” Blackout murmured. “More voices.”
In a rare burst of humor, Night said, “But this is the good kind of crazy.” And he and Blackout chuckled.
One by one, Runners handed out the comlinks to the extrahuman heroes. Night and the others fiddled with the devices, getting them to sit in their ears just so.
“One of the best things about the comlinks,” said the suit, “is when you’re not tapped into Ops, the device remains on in a default white-noise setting. Completely unobtrusive, and designed to be both a concentration aid and, when you’re not out in the field, something to help you relax.” He tittered laughter. “It’s come to our attention that some of you are a tad high-strung.”
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