by H. L. Burke
Prism started.
Wildfyre rested his forehead in his hands. “I should’ve said something earlier, but it didn’t make sense, and I didn’t want you all to think I was crazy—” He exhaled. “When you showed me the original attack footage from this team, and the surveillance photos afterwards, I thought I recognized an old colleague.”
“I remember you acting strangely.” Prism thought back to that day.
“I convinced myself I was mistaken because the colleague I recognized, Crushwave, died over a year ago, in a hostage situation turned standoff.” Wildfyre ran his fingers through his dark hair. “He wasn’t big time, and he was one of the few who was good about keeping a secret identity—always wore a mask when on the job—so he wasn’t recognizable in DOSA circles. We worked together just enough that when I saw someone with his approximate powers, I immediately thought it had to be him only to remember that he was dead.” He shook his head. “I shrugged it off. Told myself I was imagining things, even when I noticed his sound wave tattoo in the security picture. However, if this team has two people on it who both have the appearance and powers of known dead sables, that’s more than a coincidence.” He faced Prism. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If I’d thought for a moment it might’ve been relevant, I would’ve.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re telling me now.”
The team fell quiet.
After a bit, Fade drummed his fingers against the conference room table, his expression growing thoughtful. “If Wildfyre is right, and we have two supposedly dead sables on the same team, then something sinister is going on. Even presuming we were mistaken, that somehow Aiden didn’t die that night, then why would he have stayed away from us and why would he now be part of a villain team targeting DOSA facilities?”
“You said you saw him, lass,” Keeper broke in. “Did you get any hint that he might be under duress? That someone was forcing him to act against his will?”
“Not exactly.” Her stomach ached at the memory of Aiden’s hollow eyes. “He didn’t even seem to know me.”
“I hate to have to voice this, but maybe we’re dealing with some sort of process that’s reanimating the bodies of sables, but not restoring their ... well, I guess souls aren’t exactly scientifically provable, but you know what I mean.” Wildfyre shifted uncomfortably. “Somehow they’re not themselves anymore.”
Tanvi gawped at him. “Are you talking like zombies?”
He glanced at Prism, his expression apologetic. “From a sensitivity standpoint, no, not at all. From a practical standpoint—it’s the best way to express the idea I’m trying to convey.”
Prism gripped her knees beneath the table. “We need to start back at the beginning, the night Aiden died. DOSA agents took away his body, and after that—something must’ve happened.”
“You told me Aiden’s body was donated to science,” Fade said.
“That’s what his will specified.” Her head ached. She wanted to sleep but knew she’d never be able to. Not now. Not until she understood what was going on. “I have the card for the institution that I dealt with somewhere. Also there might be more about it in Aiden’s room. I kept all of his papers. As much as I hate to go through it again, we should also rewatch the security camera feed from the night he died.” She staggered to her feet. “I’ll get started—”
“Hold up.” Fade stood and placed his hands on her upper arms. His probing gaze scanned her face, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Luce, can we talk alone for a moment?”
“I guess.”
He led her into the hallway and shut the door behind them. He closed his eyes. “I want you to listen to everything I have to say before you react because I know how this is going to sound, but it’s important. Can you promise me that you’ll give me a minute of listening before you try to argue that I’m wrong?”
Prism stiffened. “That’s an ominous way to begin a conversation.”
“Please,” his voice grew more earnest.
She gave a brief nod.
“I want you to let the rest of us handle looking into this while you take a step back.”
Prism’s jaw dropped. “Fade—”
“Please, remember what I said?”
She bit her bottom lip.
He brushed his hand through her hair. “I love you, and I trust you and know you are trying your best here, but you’re too close to this. It’s the perfect storm of everything that could cause you emotional distress. Also, the baby is going to be here in just a few weeks. If this doesn’t turn out how you hope—and I have a voice in my head screaming that it won’t—this is going to break your heart all over again. Look, I’m just asking you to let your team step up to protect you, to take care of you, just this once.”
“I can’t do that!” Her chest tightened painfully. “He’s my brother—”
“And you’re my wife, and this is my baby. Luce, do you remember when you decided not to take the committee position, and I agreed that you shouldn’t because I was content with what we have? I still am. I want to protect this, protect us, and I have the worst feeling in the world that if you get sucked into this, it could cost us everything.”
She rested her hand on the side of his face. “Fade, I love you, and I love our baby. I wouldn’t do anything to put any of that at risk—”
“Like run off to face down three unknown supervillains who just tried to bomb a building?” His jaw clenched.
She swallowed. “You think I shouldn’t have—”
“Right now? Hell, no, you shouldn’t have.” His voice went up a level, and she flinched back. “Please,” he said, his voice quiet again. “I know you can be a mother and a superhero at the same time. I have every faith in your ability to do that, but until she gets here, please. Let me be a little selfish and keep you both safe.”
She stared into his eyes, so sincere it weakened her knees. The idea that he wanted to protect her, that he cared about her, it warmed her, gave her strength, but the thought of promising him this, to stand aside when there was potential heroing to be done, to not go after whatever had Aiden in its grasp ...
“Fade, you’re asking something I don’t know if I can give you,” she whimpered.
“I know, but remember, it’s not forever.” He rested his hand on top of the swell of her stomach. As if in response, the baby kicked, and a faint smile crossed Fade’s face. “I don’t like the idea of you being in danger ever, but I’ve accepted it. It’s been a part of both our lives for longer than we’ve been together, and I processed it a long time ago that I had to trust you to keep yourself safe, to be smart, to be strong. Right now, though, with her?” He knelt and rested the side of his head against her stomach. Her heart flip-flopped. “Please, for me. Until my whole world isn’t wrapped up in one fragile package, no more risks.”
She ran her hand over the top of his head and onto his back. “I promise to be careful. No more fighting, but can you really ask me not to investigate?”
He sighed and stood before drawing her into an embrace. “I guess not, but I’m worried that if you find out what’s going on, you won’t be able to keep your promise to me. That it will pull you back in.”
“Maybe it’s time for me to learn to trust that you and the rest of the team can handle this on your own.” She leaned into him, listening to his heartbeat drumming in her ear.
“We can, and we will. For you, we’d all do so much more.” He kissed the top of her head then withdrew to look her in the eye. “Let’s get to bed. Whatever is going on, we’ll both be better off facing it when we’re not exhausted.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute. I want to ask Tanvi if she’ll take over researching the institution that claimed Aiden’s body.”
Warmth lit his eyes. “All right. How about I run you a hot bath?”
“Bubbles?” She managed what she hoped was a bright smile.
“As you wish.” He kissed her one more time before starting down the hallway.
As soon as
he was out of sight, Prism slumped against the wall.
Maybe he was right. When she’d come face to face with Aiden, she’d froze up. If any of those villains had chosen that moment to attack rather than ensure their escape, what would she even have been able to do? She hadn’t brought her wrist lasers, her primary form of offensive weaponry, with her. Her flashes could stun for a moment, but beyond that, they wouldn’t protect her.
Oh, man, was the Adjudicator right? Am I really useless as a sable? I know I’ve won fights before, but usually with my team or other extenuating circumstances. Just me, on my own, without weapons or backup, what good am I? I couldn’t save Aiden. I could’ve gotten hurt. I could’ve let my baby get hurt.
Tears welled from her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and tried to push her grief down.
The door behind her opened.
“Hey, Prism, sorry, but the team wanted to know if it was safe to come out yet. I drew the short straw—” Wildfyre stopped mid-stride and mid-sentence.
Humiliated, she wiped at her cheeks, hoping to get rid of the traces of tears and probably running mascara.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He coughed and angled away. “I’ll tell them to chill.” He put his hand on the door knob.
“No, wait.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t want Tanvi to see her like this. Tanvi’s two typical responses to Prism crying involved alcohol and ice cream—neither of which felt like a good idea at the moment. Asking Tanvi to take over the research could wait. “Could you tell them that we’ll talk in the morning? Everyone should get some sleep. I need to as well.”
“Sure,” he agreed.
“Thank you.” Prism started down the hall. She stopped at the end to wait for the elevator, not feeling like climbing the stairs barefoot and weary. She closed her eyes. A hot bath sounded amazing. Also, an evening in Fade’s arms often did wonders for a bleeding heart. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d comforted her when all else seemed ready to tear her soul to pieces.
While she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about Fade wanting her to step back, she knew it came from a place of love.
It’s good to be loved. It’s good to have people who I can count on so I don’t have to do this all myself. Oh, but if Aiden is out there and he needs me—
She shuddered. The elevator door dinged. She took a step forward.
“Prism, wait!”
She turned as Wildfyre ran up to her. Down the hall she could see Keeper and Tanvi talking, apparently in no hurry to get to bed.
“Can I ride up with you?” Wildfyre asked.
“Of course.” Prism entered the elevator and beckoned him in.
“If this isn’t my place, then let me know,” he said as the door shut. “But I walked in on you crying with Fade nowhere to be seen. Are you all right? He didn’t—I mean, I thought I heard raised voices.”
She shrank from his gaze. “You did, but it’s not like that. He was a little upset at some of the risks I took tonight. Maybe he’s right. Maybe now isn’t the time for me to be running after supervillains.”
He gave an awkward laugh. “Well, if there was ever an excuse for taking a break from all this, I think you have it.”
“Yeah, but—” Her voice cracked. Even without the baby, was she really any use right now? She’d failed so miserably tonight, and as much as she didn’t respect the Adjudicator’s opinions, his words still stung. What if he wasn’t the only one in DOSA to feel that way? What if they all thought she was an ineffectual sable, only hanging on due to the fact that her father had been Talon’s best friend, held up by her team to a level she could never hope to achieve on her own?
Wildfyre reached around her and pushed a button on the control panel.
Prism drew a tense breath as the elevator screeched to a halt.
“There’s something else going on here.” Wildfyre crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, you listened to me when I told you about my dad. Let me repay the favor. Let me listen.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I screwed up tonight, after getting publicly chewed out by the Adjudicator for being a ‘nothing sable’.”
Wildfyre’s expression darkened. “The Adjudicator is a know-nothing twit. Even villains know that.”
“But what if he was right?” she wailed. “I couldn’t stop Aiden from getting away. I was standing there, helpless, and once the stun faded, without my lasers, all I could do was sit and wait for him to take me down. Especially—now.” She glanced at her stomach. “I can’t help thinking—what if my powers are useless when faced with a real challenge?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Wildfyre said tersely. “Prism, there’s a reason you’re the leader of this team.”
“Because of my blind optimism and naive persistence?” She sniffed.
Even Fade thinks I’m over my head right now. Maybe it’s just the pregnancy, but if he doesn’t think I should be on this case, then what hope do I have that the committee will have faith in me? Do I even deserve faith here?
“Well, I won’t lie and say that hasn’t served you well.” Wildfyre gave a slight smile. “However, you’ve also put five years in leading one of the most successful teams on the west coast.” His voice grew more earnest. “You have a record for taking on challenges well above your supposed power level and crushing it. Also, everyone in the villain scene was took note of how you brought down Cosmic. Put you on a lot of people’s ‘don’t tick her off’ lists. And now you’re dealing with this mess involving your brother ... while pregnant? You’re not useless. You’re a certified bad—” He stopped, and his mouth twisted as if he were trying to find the words.
A bemused smile crept across her face. “Are you trying to give up swearing too, now?”
“Seemed the obvious next step, but it’s bringing out some irritating gaps in my vocabulary.” He grimaced. “Think it’s going too far?”
“I support you in your decision to be a better person, but yeah, maybe in increments,” she teased. “We’re still working on the ‘let’s not commit domestic terrorism’ part of your rehabilitation. The washing your mouth out with soap when you say ‘badass’ part comes way down the line.”
He laughed. “I guess.” He pushed the button, and the elevator jerked to life again. His face brightened. “Hey, what about me and you do a training session tomorrow? I’ve done one-on-ones with pretty much every team member except you ... all of them if you don’t count the cat.”
She laughed. “Trust me, the cat counts.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Someday you guys are going to have to let me in on that joke.”
“Someday.” She winked at him. Oh, gosh, she was as loopy as tipsy Fleet right now. “But why a training session?”
“Because you know how to use your powers, and you need a reminder of that. Maybe you’re right that you shouldn’t be fighting supervillains right now, but there’s no real danger in a training bout, right?”
She hesitated. She hadn’t promised Fade not to train, and Wildfyre was right. A controlled training session was low risk. “Yeah, it might be fun. I haven’t had a chance to really use my powers in a while. Of course, I’m pretty awkward right now.” The door opened behind her. “Look, I’m tired. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, just let me know what you decide.” He nodded to her. “Good night, Prism.”
“Night, Wildfyre.” She walked to her door, but paused before entering. Hopefully Fade wouldn’t be able to tell she’d been crying. She didn’t want to talk about it right now. Feeling as ready as she could be, she opened the door. The sound of running water and the smell of her favorite lavender bubble bath greeted her, and her whole being softened.
He emerged from the bathroom. “Hey, it’s just about ready. I was thinking of lighting some candles, but I can’t find matches.”
“Bedside table, bottom drawer, in the box shaped like a dragon egg,” she said.
“Ah.” He walked to the table. “You feeling any better?”
/>
“As well as can be expected.”
“Ah,” he said again. He returned, holding a book of matches. “Look, Luce—I don’t know what’s going on with Aiden, but whatever it is, I’m here for you. I know you want him back—”
“But you don’t want me to get myself wrapped up in that hope?” She considered him.
“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly.” His face pinched. “If Aiden were alive, really alive, as himself, he’d have fought his way back to you by now. That’s who he was. The fact that he hasn’t means that either that’s not him, or he’s changed to a degree that he’s, well, not him.”
“Maybe you’re right, but ... I don’t know, Fade. I need to understand what’s going on.”
“I know.” He rested his forehead against hers. “And I’ll be beside you no matter what. I just—hate to see you hurt again.”
“I know.” She slipped her arms around him and squeezed with all her might. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to face it alone.
Chapter Nine
“I think this is everything.” Prism shuffled through the stack of papers before setting them on the table in front of Tanvi. “I also did some preliminary internet searching, and I forwarded those results to your phone.”
“Got it.” Tanvi waved the device in the air. “At 5 a.m. Seriously, the ping woke me up from a great dream. You owe me.”
“Sorry,” Prism said. “I couldn’t sleep this morning.”
Pity crossed Tanvi’s face. “Pris, you sure you’re okay letting me handle this?”
“Yes, I am,” Prism lied. She stepped away from the paperwork and tried not to think about all the research channels she still hadn’t explored. “I trust you. You know what you’re doing, and if anyone can find out what happened with Aiden’s body, it’s you.”
“Thanks.” Tanvi stood and gave her a one-armed hug. “You know I got your back, girl. We’re going to figure this out.”
“Thanks.”
Prism exited the office and considered what to do next. She checked her phone. No news from Talon. If they’d found out anything about Aiden, he would’ve called her ... right? She shoved her phone back into her pocket.
