by H. L. Burke
“I’ll see if I can find Yui. Even if she insists on being a cat the whole time, I can hold up my half of the girl talk.” Tanvi left the room.
Fade checked his phone. Maybe he should go up. If Ruby didn’t fall asleep right away, Prism might want him to hold her while she showered or something—
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Fade called out.
Wildfyre strode in. “Crazy day, huh?”
“Understatement of the year,” Fade responded.
Wildfyre shifted from foot to foot.
Fade groaned inwardly.
Not him too.
“What is it now?”
Wildfyre swallowed. “I just ... I wanted to say I’m sorry for letting the team down today. Everyone had been briefed on Aiden’s ability to knock out crowds of people, and I ran right into it—”
“None of us were expecting Brink’s group to attack,” Fade interrupted. “With a sable as powerful as Aiden is right now, all bets are off. I can’t really blame anyone who gets put under by him, at least not until we find a way to block his sleep attack.”
“Maybe, but I still feel like I should’ve—”
“Cut it out.” Fade crossed his arms over his chest.
Wildfyre quailed back. “Cut what out?”
“The need to constantly blame yourself for every little thing.” Fade focused on Wildfyre’s face. “Look, I’m the first to tell you that this rehabilitation thing means owning up to your mistakes, facing the bad choices you’ve made so that you won’t make them over and over again. It also means acknowledging progress and giving yourself a little slack when you do your best but it still doesn’t end up the way you’d hoped, though.”
Wildfyre’s lips pursed. “Mistakes in this game cost lives. I’ve already got enough on my conscience—”
“And maybe it’s time to start letting some of it go.” Fade wasn’t exactly the deep talks type, but he’d been there, standing in Wildfyre’s shoes. Maybe it was time to open up about that. “When I got started, Allay—that’s Prism’s father—was frank with me about the work I needed to do, but he also told me that I couldn’t keep wallowing in the wrong I’d done in the past. Said if you’re offered new clothes, you can’t keep wearing the rags on top of them, which is a weird way of putting it, but it kinda made sense.”
Wildfyre gave a slow nod. “It’s hard though, when those rags have been a part of who you are for so long. Prism has been saying I need to give myself a little grace. It’s just ... hard.”
“Been there. Trust me.”
“Yeah, I guess you have.” Wildfyre sighed. “However, your home is here. Mine—it’s back in Utah, and I want to go back, at least call my mom and tell her I’m sorry and that I miss her. Until I’ve somehow gotten out from under everything I’ve done, though, I don’t feel like I deserve to.” He coughed. “I’m not going to be satisfied with myself until I’ve earned the right to go home, to look my mom in the eye and feel like I’m no longer someone my dad would’ve been ashamed to call his son.”
Something within Fade softened. “Look, dude, I don’t know anything about mothers. I barely remember mine, but based on my admittedly very brief experience with fatherhood, you don’t earn parental love. Ruby hasn’t done a damn thing but exist yet, and I’d give my life for her.” He cleared his throat. “Just saying, I don’t know your mom, but if she’s human, there’s a good chance she feels the same way about you. Doesn’t mean she likes or approves of everything you’ve done, but I’d bet a year’s pay that she still loves you, all right?”
“I hope so, but—” Wildfyre’s eyes squeezed shut. “Well, I’m not ready yet, even if my mom would be.” He gave an awkward laugh. “Sorry to pile this on you. Normally I go to Prism for what you might call accountability check ins, but with everything she’s been going through in the last few weeks, I haven’t wanted to bother her.”
“It’s fine. We’re a full team. Prism doesn’t have to keep it all on her shoulders.” Fade rubbed at the back of his neck. “For now, though, take it easy on yourself, and get some sleep. Whatever Talon says about DOSA having our backs, it hasn’t worked out that way. We need to keep on our toes in case Brink attacks again, and for that, all of us need our rest.”
“Got it. Thanks for the talk.” Wildfyre left.
Fade massaged his forehead. Yeah, he’d had enough conversation for the night—
His phone buzzed.
Grimacing, he checked his text messages.
Keeper: Can you meet me and Yui in the second floor computer room? We have something you should see.
Fade wavered. He wanted to lie down beside his wife, maybe hold his daughter. He knew being team leader kept Prism busy, but damn, couldn’t it stop for a minute?
Resisting the urge to put his phone on silent and make a break for it, he texted back, Be right there.
A few minutes later, he entered the computer room. Keeper sat in front of one of the monitors with Yui on the desk beside his keyboard. The grim expression on Keeper’s face made Fade’s anxiety spike.
“Please tell me you didn’t call me up here so you could bare your soul to me,” Fade said.
Keeper arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t plan to. You doing all right, lad?”
“Fine, but if I ever question why Prism is the team leader or what she does that’s so hard, remind me of today, all right?” Fade pulled up a computer chair and spun it around so he could sit backwards, leaning over the back rest.
Keeper chuckled, but it came out half-hearted.
“You wanted to show me something?” Fade pressed, wanting to get it over with so he could go to bed.
“Footage of the Adjudicator’s death leaked online.” Keeper clicked his mouse bringing up a video file. Yui flicked her tail in annoyance.
Fade tensed. “Footage from where? Brink’s team took down all the security cameras.”
“Someone with a cell phone, from the angle I think they were hiding behind a desk during the altercation. It’s not great footage, but look at this—”
Keeper hit the spacebar, and the video began to play.
Fade watched for a minute. Aiden stumbled forward to face Prism. The Adjudicator stood behind her—not in front. Man, even with him dead, Fade still kind of hated that coward. The audio was faint and overshadowed by distant crashes and the panicked breathing of whoever was shooting the video. After a moment, the Adjudicator collapsed.
Fade blanched. Whatever power Aiden had used to do that, he didn’t want to face it.
The video ended as Fade appeared, pushing Aiden through the floor, and the panicked Prism crouched over the Adjudicator’s corpse.
Fade furrowed his brow. “Not great for DOSA’s PR that this got out, but I’m not sure why you wanted me to see it. I was there, remember.”
“It’s something Yui pointed out to me.” Keeper clicked back to the beginning of the video. “Watch again, but focus on the Adjudicator’s hand.”
Fade squinted at the video. Sure enough, something black glinted in the Adjudicator’s grasp.
“Is that a gun?” Heat rose in his chest. That liar had said he didn’t have any weapons.
“Yes, but trace the angle where he’s pointing it and watch.”
Fade rewatched the video. A chill washed through him followed swiftly by hot rage. “That bastard.” His fist slammed into the table top. He wished it had been the Adjudicator’s face. “I need to talk to Prism.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Prism watched the video for what had to be the twelfth time. Her bottom lip quivered.
The Adjudicator was going to kill me—and Aiden stopped him. Aiden saved me.
She glanced from the tablet Keeper and Fade had brought her the clip on to the men standing over her, their faces drawn.
“Why would the Adjudicator want me dead?” she stammered.
“My best guess, he was working with Brink,” Fade answered. “I mean, we already knew he worked with him in the past, but my guess is t
hat their ‘falling out’ when Brink supposedly went rogue was an act so that Brink could work illegally without it coming back to bite the Adjudicator. Whatever the plan, they were in it together.”
A memory struck Prism. “Do you remember how upset the Adjudicator was that we were at the banquet? How insistent he was that we weren’t on the list?”
Realization crept over Fade’s face. “He knew there was going to be an attack that night.”
“And he didn’t want us there. Maybe because of your recorded resistance to Aiden’s powers or maybe because he was afraid I’d get to Aiden somehow—” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Or Aiden would get to me. Do you realize what this means? About Aiden?”
“There’s enough of our lad left that he was able to take action to save your life.” Keeper smiled sadly.
Prism nodded, barely able to speak for a moment. “If he can do that, Fade, if he is able to wrest control of himself even for brief periods of time, then there’s hope.” Her voice rasped. “We have hope again. We need to call Talon, tell him that he needs to call off the kill on sight order for Aiden.”
“Do you think he’ll listen?” Fade frowned. “Look, Lucia, I think you’re right, but I’ve also always been ready to think the worst of the Adjudicator. All we have is a video clip of him briefly aiming a gun at your head. Talon might argue that he intended to shoot Aiden, not you, and is just a terrible shot or was waving the weapon in a boneheaded way.”
“If he was working with Brink, there must be some sort of trail, some communication between them,” Prism suggested. “Maybe it doesn’t matter, though. Proving the Adjudicator’s guilt is secondary to finding a way to free Aiden.”
Fade’s mouth tightened.
Prism cringed. She knew that look. “You think I’m wrong?”
“I think Aiden has so far only shown the ability to break out of whatever is holding him under for very short periods. He managed to save your life, but immediately afterwards was fighting me and Tanvi like he didn’t know us. Me? Maybe I can understand him taking a punch at me, but Tanvi? He was crazy about her. Second to you, she’s probably the person he had the greatest connection with on the team. Also, consider how he’s only managed to communicate with you in short bursts.” He let out a long breath. “I agree that Aiden is still in there somewhere, and maybe fighting to regain control, but without knowing exactly how Brink is keeping him under or what method there is to free him—” He squared his shoulders then finished in a rush. “I just don’t want to see you hurt if this doesn’t have the happy ending you’re hoping for.”
A faint smile crossed her face, and she stepped forward to embrace him. “Sometimes caring about someone means leaving yourself open to a kick in the gut,” she whispered. “I think you know that as well as I do.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to see it happen to you,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m just saying, right now, with so few signs from Aiden, there’s no way to be sure how realistic the idea of bringing him back is. It’s not like we can see inside his head. Unfortunately, his ability only goes one way.”
Like a book falling open to the right page, an idea sprang into Prism’s mind. She drew back to arm’s length, a grin creeping over her face. “But what if we could have Aiden’s abilities on our side? If we could read his mind?”
“What are you talking about, lassie?” Keeper’s brow furrowed.
Fade’s mouth twisted. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Prism faced Keeper. “The Mymic device! The power swapping glove Cosmic used to acquire various superpowers and switch between them when she was attacking us. The abilities she stole at the time included Aiden’s.”
“There is the minor issue of it causing brain damage,” Fade pointed out.
“Extended use causes brain damage,” Prism corrected him. “I used it when I took down Cosmic, and I was fine.”
“You used it once, briefly,” Fade’s voice went up a level. “Cosmic ended up several fries short of a Happy Meal and got to the point where she was willing to commit mass murder to prove a political point.”
“Cosmic was a machiavellian psycho even before the glove,” Prism said. “Besides, she used it repeatedly. I just need to use it once to get into Aiden’s brain and find out what is going on and if we can fix it.”
Fade’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “All right, but let me do it.”
Prism frowned. “Why?”
“First off, you’ve already used the glove once—”
“Over two years ago, and only briefly,” she interrupted.
“Either way, you have used it, and I haven’t. If the damage is caused by extended use, I’ll have a lower chance of reaching that point than you would,” he argued.
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” she said.
“Just ...” His voice rose to a shout that sent her flinching backwards. Fade clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes still burned.
Keeper took a step back. “Do you two want some time alone to discuss this?”
Prism gave a brief nod, and Keeper exited the room.
Fade closed his eyes and said in a calmer tone, “Please, Luce. I almost lost you already once this week. If there’s a risk that needs to be taken, it’s my turn to take it. Plus Aiden once went through my brain thought by thought to clear my name. I owe him the same.”
“He’s my brother, and he saved my life from the Adjudicator.” Frustration built within her. “Fade, I love you, and I understand the desire to protect me. If something happened to you, it would rip my heart out. I have to imagine that goes both ways, but we’re superheroes. Trying to stop me from being hurt—”
“I know, and I’ve accepted that ... partly.” He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “It’s like living with my heart outside of my body, and it scares the crap out of me, but you’re right. I can’t protect you all the time any more than you can protect me. That’s why I think the only fair way for us to handle this is for us to, like I said, take turns, and it’s my turn.”
She blinked at him. “Turns? Seriously?”
“Do you have a better idea?” He stood a little straighter. “And I’m not going to be unreasonable. If there’s a place where either of us is a better fit—as far as our powers or location go—like if you are fighting a supervillain without me, I’m not going to make you stop and wait until I get there just because it’s my ‘turn.’ Right now, though, when we have a choice as to which of us takes a risk, I’m just saying, of the two of us, you’ve been in mortal danger more recently.” He stepped closer. His energy crackled around her, soothing her. His dark eyes pierced her, and a quiver cut down her spine. His voice dropped to a deep hum. “It’s my turn. Let me take this.”
“Dang it, how are you so sexy even when you’re being stubborn and weird?” she whispered.
“It’s a curse, but I live with it.” He pulled her close for a long kiss.
She swayed slightly, savoring the taste of his breath, the warmth of his embrace. When he withdrew she gazed up at him. “All right. This time, yes, but don’t think I won’t remember this agreement. I’m calling dibs the next time one of us has to be a noble idiot.”
“We’ll work up a log book. Just to keep things fair.” He winked.
Prism laughed and kissed his cheek. “All right, I’ll call Talon first thing in the morning and see if I can get permission for you to use the Mymic device.”
Her heart lightened. For the first time since she’d learned of Aiden’s return, she had a path that offered her hope.
AIDEN, PLEASE! YOU have to hear me. You’ve been trying to reach me. I know you have. Please. Please, I know you’re still in there, but you have to do something to prove it or I can’t protect you.
The memory of his sister’s voice echoed in his head, fighting against the fog. He could remember stumbling forward, trying to reach out with his mind but having the suppressor pull him back. Brink’s demands shouted in his brain, driv
ing him mad. His hand had risen against his will. Aiden had fought it. Fought it harder than he’d ever thought possible—but it wasn’t enough. It was beating him.
He remembered seeing the Adjudicator, realizing that even if he somehow resisted that the Adjudicator would finish what Aiden could not. A surge of anger and fear had overwhelmed him, and he threw himself into a burst of power like he’d never used before.
And then ...
Fog.
Confusion.
What had happened?
Did I hurt her? Did I hurt my sister? Please, God, please don’t let that be true.
“You had to fight me,” a voice pierced through the fog.
Brink.
Contempt rose in Aiden’s chest.
I’ll fight you as long as I have breath.
As if peeled away by invisible hands, his eyelids pulled back from his eyes. Brink hovered over him, face red with fury.
Hope ignited in Aiden’s soul.
If he’s mad, he didn’t get what he wanted. Lucia must have survived.
“I made you everything you are. The injections I’ve been giving you have increased your power to a godlike degree. That is all my doing. If I were to stop my treatments, you’d return to your pathetic former power level,” Brink ranted. “Most sables would beg for such enhancement. Worship the one who had granted it to them, but you?”
I don’t want your power. It’s made me a monster. Aiden tried to throw his thoughts into Brink’s head, but Brink simply smiled.
“It’s futile to fight me. I will break you. I’ll admit, you’ve proven frustratingly resilient, but that ends here.” Brink flipped a switch on a remote control.
Immediately, pain raced through Aiden’s body. His back arched off the table though the straps held him in place. His muscles contracted, but he couldn’t cry out. The suppressor wouldn’t let him. It wouldn’t let him speak or move beyond the permissions granted by his captor.
Brink paced to the other side of the table and pushed another button on his controller. The metal table heated painfully.
