The Pantheon Saga | Book 5 | Absolute Power
Page 26
Jordana’s eyes flashed, but not with affection. “Hearing is different from seeing photos. I need space.” She backpedaled from him.
The rejection sent a hard slap to Hugo. He should’ve seen this coming.
Jordana whirled on J-Tom angrily. “And you knew about them since spring.” She marched off.
Brie called after her BFF to no avail.
“Shit.” J-Tom looked closed to hyperventilating. “Bogie…”
Hugo pointed after Jordana. “She needs you.”
J-Tom jogged after her hastily.
Before Hugo could wallow in self-pity, the rest of his friends arrived to pile on.
“Really, Hugo?” Groban scolded. “Spencer and Jodie at the same time?”
Raphael shook his head in displeasure. “That’s messed up. J-Tom was dating her, and Jodie was her close friend.” Wale and JT both loudly approved.
The strawberry-blonde Stanley twins chimed in.
“How could you do that to Jordana?” Marin demanded.
“That was one of her best friends,” Karin added.
“Both relationships weren’t exclusive,” Hugo defended, then realized how weak that sounded.
Many of his friends seemed appalled. Brent, like Brie, said nothing.
“Doesn’t make it right,” both Stanleys retorted simultaneously.
Hugo was sick of their lectures, sick of their judgment, sick of the gossiping about his life from people who didn’t know him. “It was a mistake,” he spoke over them. “And it’s no one’s business!”
His friends’ uproar was expected and obnoxious. Hugo let them verbally pummel him. Why not?
“Guys!” All eyes turned.
Briseis was visibly irritated, dressed in an oversized white shirt that almost covered her green miniskirt. Her hair was in a low and sleek ponytail, putting that absurdly stunning face on display. “Hugo made a mistake. Spencer Michelman fooled a lot of people. Hugo and J-Tom thought she was someone special. Jodie and I thought she’d be a ride-or-die.” Her gaze fell. “She ended up hurting everyone because she could.”
Marin Stanley wasn’t pleased. “But—”
Surprisingly, Brent stepped in. “Everyone relax and have a strawberry cupcake. Nobody died.”
With that, the group dispersed, grumbling their disdain or shooting him salty looks. The verbal beatdown left Hugo feeling hollow. Even Simon was angry with him. But he’d deserved it for being a crappy friend and an even worse not-boyfriend. Wait till they hear from Grace.
Surprisingly, Brie and Brent stayed.
“I knew something changed with you and Spencer,” Brent pressed as they stood in line grabbing burritos. He seemed fascinated and boyish, like the Brent who Hugo had befriended last year. “Anytime I saw you two snarling at each other, there was…sexual tension.”
Hugo shrugged. “Kinda was.” Discussing his relationship with Spencer openly felt odd yet liberating. He turned to Brie, baffled by how chill she had been. “Surprised you’re not leading the pitchforks against me.”
Brie pointed at herself in mock surprise. “Who am I to judge? Easy Breezy, recovering mean girl? Slept with two basketball players on the same team?” Self-deprecating Brie was a huge departure from Queen Brie, the self-obsessed tyrant. “Let’s not forget my viral sextape. Need I go on?”
“Please do,” Brent requested, leaning in.
“Pervball!” Briseis aimed a kick at him, which he sidestepped. She then draped her arm around Hugo’s shoulders with a teasing smile. “We sluts should stick together.”
Hugo found himself laughing gratefully. “But Jordana needs you.”
“I’ll be there for her after school.” Brie’s gaze penetrated through his doubts. “I’m here for you now.”
The trio sat together in the highest bleachers the rest of lunch, talking about anything else. Hugo tried not to think about Jordana and the old wounds that Spencer’s post must’ve ripped open. On a side note, watching Brie devour her burrito guilt-free was heartwarming.
“I have a question, Brosef,” Brent announced, blue eyes sparkling.
Hugo braced himself. “Shoot.”
“I like two girls.” Brent sounded frustrated. “And they both like me.”
Hugo waited for the problem. “How’s that an issue?”
“Terrible problem to have, Lefty,” Brie scoffed, wiping guacamole from her lips.
“Shush!” Brent focused on Hugo. “They gave me an ultimatum to choose between them. Not sure if I can. It’s why I’ve been…avoiding a choice.” His handsome face tightened. “What would you do?”
Hugo was the last person anyone should ask for dating advice. But he answered. “Don’t date close friends. Or in your case, twin sisters.”
Brie’s eyes widened. Brent’s jaw dropped. “How…you—”
Hugo smiled. He’d seen sparks between Marin and Brent, then him and Karin last summer. “Am I right?”
“Short answer? Yes,” Brent replied blushingly.
“Long answer?” Brie quipped. “Yeeeeeessssss.”
“First rule.” Hugo raised a pointer finger. “Know your value.”
Brent frowned, as if trying to solve a hard math problem. He wasn’t getting it. “But what about—?”
“Rule two. Be honest about your feelings,” Hugo went on, two fingers held up briefly. Just like he should’ve been honest with Jordana about Spencer. “They’ll at least respect you for knowing what you want.”
By Brent’s “eureka” face, he was digesting this. Brie listened attentively.
“Last thing.” Hugo had learned this the hard way. “Thinking any girl has more value than you leads to bad decisions and her not respecting you.” The energy around him grew thick and heady. Hugo dared a look at Brie sitting bolt-upright, staring at the ground. The guilt on that face told so many stories. She sighed and finally met Hugo’s stare with a remorseful smile, almost in tears.
Uncomfortable, Hugo hastily turned back to Brent.
If Brent saw the exchange, there was no sign. “Sounds scary,” he admitted.
Hugo poked his ribs. “Which means you should do it.” A twisted thought forced the smile off his face. “Just don’t ask Marin and Karin for a threesome.”
“Ewww,” Brie said with a disgusted snort-laugh, swatting at Hugo’s head.
Brent shuddered. “I’m not into that Lannister shit!” His laugh sounded like a car that hadn’t started up in twenty years, coaxing enjoyment out of Hugo for the first time today.
Speaking of shudders… Hugo tensed up. At a glance, the football field appeared normal. But Hugo felt very subtle tremors running up the bleachers where he, Brent, and Briseis sat.
The micro tremors reached across campus, stopping after several seconds.
Hugo turned to Brie and Brent. “You guys…feel that?”
Brie watched him in alarm, shaking her head. “What’s wrong?”
This was more than the Spencer problem putting Hugo on edge. “I think I felt aftershocks.”
Brent took a look at his cellphone, almost toppling from his seat. “Are you half-canine, Bogie?” Hugo and Brie stared back, lost.
Brent held his phone up, displaying the N3 news app.
The color drained from Brie’s face. “Oh my God!”
Hugo’s bones liquified when he saw the headline. “Oh no…”
EARTHQUAKE LEVELS SEATTLE-TACOMA.
Chapter 31
“You’re behind this!” Brightburn cried, pointing a manicured finger at Shattershot.
Greyson stepped back, eyes darting from accused to accuser. This is getting good.
Shattershot looked like he’d been slugged in the jaw. “Me?”
Brightburn’s fingers crackled with energy. “I used to think Bulldozer was too hard on you.” Her stare turned venomous. “But now it makes sense. You’re working with this Damocles asshole.”
“I am not!” Shattershot sounded genuinely hurt. “And fuck you!”
Erika spun Brightburn around. “You’re in
no position to criticize him.” Her anger soared with each word. “Do you realize how much trouble your freelancing could get us in?”
“Guys…” Reverb spoke up.
Greyson spied him in the hall leading to the bedrooms. Ah, my other surprise… But he pretended to ignore his teammate, focused on the present conflict.
Brightburn’s eyes watered as she ranted on. “I never got the justice I deserved,” she wailed. “The least I can do is get that for some women victimized by these predators.”
“GUYS!” Reverb shouted.
Everyone turned. “What, Reverb?” the team shouted back.
Reverb walked slowly out of the hall, visibly dumbstruck. He held up a picture. “These pictures were all over the hallway.” The blurry images featured Shattershot and his lover, Villanelle.
The empath’s face drained.
Greyson feigned confusion. “Who’s that, Shattershot?” he asked.
“Bam-Bam, from the Conglomerate in DC,” Erika answered when facing the empath. “You two are lovers?”
The awkward tension grew more delicious. Shattershot looked away. “Yes.”
The uproar was as angry as Greyson had hoped.
Reverb, for once, grew livid. “Are you kidding me?”
“She wants out of the criminal life,” Shattershot assured, waving his hands with a desperation that matched his voice. “I’m helping her!”
Bulldozer snorted in derision. “More like helping yourself to her.”
Something changed on Shattershot’s face as if some limit had finally been reached. “Go fuck yourself, Bulldozer! “You probably followed me and took these pictures.”
Yes! Greyson mused, barely keeping his joy under the hood.
Bulldozer’s eyes widened. However, he deflected with a dismissive laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Brightburn studied Bulldozer in disbelief. “Dozer?”
“I didn’t tail that sawed-off midget!” he lied again.
Greyson saw his opening and walked right in. “Actually, you followed us four nights ago.” He pointed at Bulldozer to clear up any misconception.
Erika, Reverb, and Brightburn flinched from this new accusation.
A vein pulsed on Bulldozer’s forehead. “Of course you’d lie for him.”
Greyson ignored his mockery and continued. “You followed Shattershot and me to the bar. Then you tried following me after we left.”
Shattershot eyed him in disbelief.
“Bullshit!” Bulldozer lied again.
“I knew that was you!” Shattershot exploded. He looked repulsed. “And I thought I was being paranoid!”
Erika facepalmed, at her wits’ end. “Seriously, Dozer?”
Bulldozer closed his eyes, realizing he’d been made. “I don’t trust them. And for good reason.”
Greyson twisted the knife deeper. “I want to prove myself,” he admitted, a wounded edge to his voice. “But let’s be honest. You’re a bully who likes throwing your weight around to make yourself feel tall.”
Bulldozer reddened. “Watch your mouth, boy,” he warned.
Erika pushed Greyson back. “Levi,” she cautioned.
He rounded her with ease, locked on his target. “Or what? You’ll beat me up? Give me your best shot, big man.” He stuck his chin out. “If that’s what it will take for you to finally accept me.” The last line just popped into his head, drawing the desired sympathy from Brightburn and Reverb.
Erika threw herself between the two snarling men. “Both of you back off!” she barked fruitlessly.
Bulldozer ignored her, jabbing Greyson in the chest, trembling. “You think you want this? They’d have to mop you off the floor.” He was close to the edge.
Greyson pushed harder. “I’m seeing why Blackbird left with a teammate like Bulldozer.”
The room hushed.
Bulldozer purpled. “This team’s problems started when you showed up!”
Greyson spread his arms in challenge. “This team’s problem is looking right at me.”
Bulldozer’s skin shifted from flesh to metal, and he launched himself at Greyson.
“Bulldozer, NO!” Erika shrieked.
Before Greyson knew it, Bulldozer hoisted him up by the throat with frightening ease.
Suddenly, he was airborne to the chorus of two women’s screams. His back struck the common room table, oxygen dashed from his lungs. Greyson’s ribcage screamed. He slid to the floor with a grunt.
On his back, Greyson witnessed a metallic behemoth stampeding toward him. Bulldozer’s metal face contorted when he swooped down to grab him.
Greyson fought every instinct to defend himself and raised both hands in mock fear.
Then lightning forked across the room with white-hot knives, daggering Bulldozer in the back.
He arched his spine and roared, collapsing.
Greyson lowered his hands to behold a fearsome sight.
Brightburn was in combat stance, her fingers sizzling with yellowish electricity. Her pretty face was a merciless mask. “Touch him again, and I’ll blind you!”
Their defiance snapped Bulldozer out of his rage. He stared at Brightburn and Erika with such hurt.
Erika helped Greyson up to a seated posture. She stared at Bulldozer with pure loathing. “Get out of my sight!” Reverb and Shattershot formed a wall around Greyson.
The unified rejection gutted Bulldozer. He switched to his normal skin and walked away. No one spoke until he’d left the room.
Reverb answered a cellphone call and moved away.
Everyone else fussed over Greyson. “Are you okay?” Shattershot asked.
Greyson didn’t need to fake his wincing expression. “He’s out of control.”
Erika had an odd expression on her face. “I know…I’m so sorry.” Her face crumpled with such disappointment. “What Bulldozer did to you and Shattershot is unacceptable.”
This was exactly where Greyson wanted the Natural Born Thrillers. Divided and at each other’s throats. Now I can publicly take each of you out one by one, he mulled while Brightburn guided him onto the couch. Then Shenandoah would be free.
Before anyone else could chime in, Reverb approached. “Boss lady. Our Seneca overlords called.”
Erika’s features tightened. “Oh God.”
“It’s not about Brightburn,” Reverb countered solemnly, “or anything else team-related.”
Greyson watched him carefully. Why did he feel such worry gnawing at his belly?
Reverb massaged his temples. “Something happened in Seattle. Something bad.”
Chapter 32
Most Americans’ fear of the Big One always centered around California. Few knew or cared that Washington sat on three fault lines, the Cascadia Subduction Zone.
Not until today.
The “Cascadia Quake” at the end of lunch was the only topic discussed during fifth and sixth period. Hugo’s first impulse was to leave immediately. Instead, he devoured every news source, gaining as much info as possible. J-Tom, Simon, and Hugo were texting back and forth, plotting their next move before Aegis and Arclight leaped into action.
Many kids were in shock. Teachers and school staff struggled to stay calm in front of their students.
Of course they’re freaked out, Hugo realized. The adults were old enough to recall the 1987 quake that caused San Luis Obispo to become San Miguel.
Hugo’s stomach sank with each phone alert, every damage and casualty report more dire.
By mid-fifth period, President Khan addressed the nation and declared a national emergency. California, Oregon, and Nevada's governors had deployed their National Guard and ERAT teams.
As a government-sanctioned hero, Hugo regretted not having a liaison for detailed instructions.
Hugo and J-Tom met in the storage unit five minutes before sixth period ended, both convincing their teachers to let them out earlier. Neither spoke while changing into their gear. Then Hugo picked up J-Tom and raced off. Once clear of campus, they blasted into
the air.
Hugo could’ve reached Seattle in under an hour, now able to surpass Mach 2. But as J-Tom’s armor could only push past Mach 1, he went slower to keep pace. Plus, her armor’s GPS systems were better.
The whole flight, Hugo and J-Tom were patched in to data channels providing more details.
This earthquake had been a 9.1, beyond anything to hit the Pacific Northwest in decades. Damage reports came in from Bellingham near the Canadian border to as far inland as Yakima. Tsunamis were pounding coastal towns between Neah Bay to Ilwaco.
What Hugo knew of Seattle came from photos. An urban peninsula dressed in clumps of green flanked by Puget Sound and various forest-covered islands—a nature lover’s dream.
When Seattle came into view thousands of feet below, Hugo looked upon a post-apocalyptic hellscape.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmured as he and J-Tom dipped lower.
Downtown Seattle’s tight skyline cluster overlooking the waterfront had been reduced to wreckage. The high-rises’ foundations lined the streets like rows of broken teeth. Dark clouds rose from the fires ravaging Seattle, shrouding the sun. As Hugo and J-Tom weaved around the pillars of filthy smoke; noxious fumes stung his eyes beneath his half-mask.
The floating bridges linking Seattle to Mercer Island and Bellevue had sunk beneath Lake Washington. The I-5 and I-405 freeways running through Washington State resembled concrete jigsaw puzzles.
Puget Sound and Lake Washington flooded Seattle and its nearby islands in frothing waves.
Hugo drank everything in: the shattered structures, the thousands screaming for help, the stench of fire and death. Unbridled desolation overwhelmed his brain.
J-Tom floated at his side, her horror clear despite the inexpressive helmet. “Where do we even start?”
Hugo had no answer. For all his bluster at going solo, he now felt like a teen cosplayer. “I don’t know—”
A ping in his hood’s earpiece tore Hugo’s attention away. He answered. “This is Aegis.”
“Have you reached Seattle?”
“Lady Liberty,” he exclaimed, openly relieved. “Yes. Where do we go?”
She directed them to FEMA’s makeshift headquarters north of Seattle. Suburbs like Boeing Creek and Shoreview Park overflowed with tents, emergency trucks. Flying superheroes were landing or taking off from the base.