Heat Wave, page 18
Gibby pushed herself off of Nick, settling on her knees. “Hands in the middle.”
Jazz put her hand on top of Gibby’s. Seth did the same on top of Jazz’s. They looked at Nick, Seth arching his eyebrow, and Nick loved them. He loved them more than he could say. He put his hand on top of Seth’s, and they looked at Gibby.
“Team Lighthouse,” she said. “The four of us. No matter what happens, we’ll always have today.”
“Ditto,” Jazz said.
“Ditto twice,” Seth said.
“Ditto three times,” Nick agreed, and for a minute, they just sat there, hands together, watching each other. Then the moment broke, and they ate, Nick trying to have Seth catch grapes in his mouth, Jazz finding another dandelion for Gibby’s other ear. They laughed. They made fun of each other. Nick challenged Jazz to a wrestling match and lost almost immediately when Jazz knocked him flat on his back, Gibby and Seth cheering them on.
Later, as the sun crossed the sky, they ran through the fountains, clothes soaked, Seth shouting when they ganged up on him, dragging him toward one of the jets of water, watching him sputter his laughter as it sprayed him in the face.
By the time they got back to the blanket, they were exhausted, but the good kind of exhaustion that came from sitting in the sun and having at least a few hours without worrying about anything but each other.
For a long time to come, Nick would remember this moment as their last before everything changed. He would look back, years from now, and know that at the very least, they had this day, this afternoon where the sun was shining and nothing hurt. And he would smile, because regardless of what came next, he had the best friends a queer kid with an overactive brain could ask for.
But that was later.
This was now:
Seth said, “I think I swallowed fountain water. Ugh.”
Jazz said, “It’s in my damn ears.”
Gibby said, “Did you hear how Seth screamed? Man, I thought someone was going to think we were kidnapping him.”
Nick said, “We gotta do that again after I catch my breath. I—”
Someone sat down on the blanket next to them. Nick turned his head, a question on his lips, a look of confusion on his face.
But the only sound that came out of Nick’s mouth was a sharp exhalation when he saw who was sitting next to him, resting back on his hands as if he’d always been there, just enjoying the day with the rest of them.
He looked different than when Nick had last seen him. Thinner. Paler, his blond hair shaggy. He wore shorts. Running shoes with no socks. A white shirt stretched over his strong chest. And that devastating smirk that drove Nick up the damn wall.
“Hey,” Owen Burke said easily. “Long time no see. Missed you guys. What have you been up to?”
The effect was instantaneous. Jazz bared her teeth, grabbing a plastic fork and flipping it in her hand as if she was going to stab him in the face. Gibby stood swiftly, knocking over her bottle of sparkling water, the contents spilling onto the grass, hands curling into fists at her sides. Seth snarled, the temperature rising as a lick of fire burst from his hands.
Nick, though. Nick just sat there, dumbfounded, disbelieving what he was seeing. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything but stare at Owen, who turned his head toward him, winking in that way he did, inviting, dangerous. Nick’s stomach twisted slickly, gorge rising in his throat, bitterness coating his tongue.
Seth raised his hand, eyes ablaze, and Owen said, “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Seth. There are so many witnesses. Have you thought this through? You look like you want to light me up in front of everyone.” He pouted, bottom lip sticking out. “That doesn’t seem very heroic of you.”
“I don’t care,” Seth growled, more than a little Pyro Storm in his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t lower his hand, the stench of smoke thick and pungent.
Owen tilted his head back and laughed, and Nick was reminded of when that sound thrilled him to no end. Owen had been Nick’s first … well. Almost first everything. First kiss. First sort-of boyfriend. First breakup. First (and so far only) former flame who’d turned into a villain and had tried to kill them.
You never forgot your first.
“Calm down,” Owen said, shaking his head as if disappointed. “I’m not here to hurt you. If anything, I want to help you.” He stretched out his leg, tapping his shoe against Nick’s leg. “Looking good, Nicky. Being an Extraordinary suits you.” He grinned, all teeth. “Guess you didn’t need those pills after all, huh?”
Nick crab-walked backward, hands squashing fruit and half-eaten sandwiches. He yelped when his back collided with Seth’s legs.
Never looking away from Owen, Jazz said, “Gibby, could you do me a favor? Move a little bit to the right. No, my right. There you go. Seth, to my left, please. Thank you. Nick, can you stand next to Seth?”
Nick nodded slowly, the roaring in his ears like a hurricane. He rose carefully, arm brushing against Seth’s.
“Hooray,” Jazz said, barely blinking, her big eyes wide and innocent. “Gibby, is anyone looking at us?”
“No.”
“Perfect,” Jazz said. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
And then she lunged forward, stabbing Owen in the thigh with her plastic fork, twisting her wrist so the handle broke, leaving the prongs embedded in his leg. His face screwed up as if he were about to shout in pain but before he could, Jazz brought her arm back and then let it fly, fist colliding with Owen’s mouth. His head snapped back, top lip splitting, an arc of blood falling onto his shirt, the red stark against the white.
“You goddamn—” Owen groaned, hands going to his face. “Shit, that hurt.”
“Good,” Jazz snapped, going for him again, only to have Gibby pull her back before she could do more damage. “You’re lucky I’m not in heels because I’d have shoved one so far up your ass, you’d have been gargling the cow the leather came from.”
Owen dropped his hand, staring at the blood on his fingers. Something dark crossed his face, and Nick was reminded of McManus Bridge, Shadow Star floating above him, Rebecca Firestone screaming. But the look disappeared, as if Owen had swallowed it back down. Cocking his head, he pinched the plastic jutting from his leg and pulled it out, grimacing. He stared at it for a moment before dropping it to his side. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said seriously. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? For shame, Jazz. Though, to be honest, I’m impressed. Wouldn’t have figured you for the scary one.”
“Oh,” Jazz said, struggling against Gibby’s hold on her. “I haven’t even begun to show you scary.”
Owen grinned at her, blood staining his teeth. “Promises, promises. Seth, who are you calling? The police? Maybe not the best idea, seeing as how dear old Dad has them all in his back pocket. You think they’d stop with just me? You can’t possibly be that stupid.” He sniffed. “Especially if I tell them you were working with me all along.” He glanced at Nick, smile widening. “Guardian, too. Isn’t that right, Nick? Man, that costume really works for you. Been working out? I can tell. Got some muscles in your arms now. Nice. Question. Do the cops know you’re Guardian? Because I can tell them that, too.”
Seth lowered his phone slowly, expression stormy. “What do you want?”
“That’s better,” Owen said. “And perfect question, Seth. What do I want? Many things, as you’d expect. World peace. A cure for cancer. A slice of pizza from that hole-in-the-wall off Nelson and Freeman. Remember that place, Nick? Took you there on our first date. You were so nervous it was positively adorable.” He swiped his tongue over his lips, wincing when it touched the cut.
“You killed people.” Nick said flatly. The sun was still beating down on them, but Nick had never felt colder in his life. He could hear the people in the park, but they all sounded far away.
“I guess nobody’s perfect,” Owen replied. “But then, I never claimed to be. I’m not as self-righteous as the four of you.” His eyes narrowed. “Lighthouse. Like you’re not a bunch of kids playing superhero. You have no idea what the real world is like.”
“And you do?” Gibby said, the skin under her left eye twitching.
Owen shrugged. “Spend enough time in a padded room with the lights always on from all directions, it gives a man time to think, because sleeping is almost impossible. Have you ever been pumped full of drugs against your will? Because I have.” His mouth dropped open as if something important had gone through his head. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Nicky? Concentra. It’ll help you concentrate!”
Now it was Seth’s turn to hold someone back, as Nick tried to throw himself at Owen, to wrap his hands around the bastard’s neck and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until the light went out from Owen’s eyes, until his breath rattled in his throat.
“Wow,” Owen said, unperturbed. “Lotta anger issues. Must be a family trait. How’s your dad, Nick? Hurt anyone else lately? Probably won’t get away with it now, seeing as how he’s not protected by his uniform anymore.”
“I’ll kill you,” Nick snarled at him.
Owen laughed. “Where was this Nick back in the day?” He pressed a hand against his throat, voice mocking when he said, “But Owen, I don’t know if I can take the pill. They’re scary.”
“You think we’re going to sit here and listen to you?” Jazz asked.
Owen stopped laughing as he leaned forward. “I don’t think you’re going to listen to me. I know you will. Because I know things you don’t, and oh man, I can’t wait to see the looks on your faces when I tell you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”
“We’re not going to take your bullshit,” Seth said. “Gibby, Jazz, let’s go. Forget the blanket. We can replace it. Nick, we’ll—”
“Before,” Owen said, staring at Nick. “After.”
Nick swayed, anger melting under a wave of unreality, dreamlike, hazy. His throat closed, and he struggled to breathe through it. Before. After. Before. After. There, on the tip of his tongue, dancing, a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.
But it was Gibby who spoke, begrudging yet curious. “What does that mean? I’ve heard it before.”
Owen couldn’t cover up his surprise in time as he glanced at Gibby. “What? Really? You remember that?”
“No,” Gibby spat, but she looked unsure. “I don’t … I can’t…”
“Huh,” Owen said, tapping his chin. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to almost break through first.” He eyed her up and down. “I’m impressed. Her hold over you guys must not be as absolute as she thinks it is. Either that, or she underestimated Gibby. Not surprised. She was never really able to see what was right in front of her.”
“Who?” Gibby asked, taking a step toward him. “Who are you talking about? If your father is—”
Owen snorted. “I’m not talking about my dad, though he is part of it. No, this is someone else entirely.” He looked at Nick once more. “How’s your mom, Nicky? Good? Hope so. Do me a favor, will you? Next time you see her, would you tell her I said hi? I’d appreciate it.”
“Why the hell would I do that?” Nick snapped.
Owen Burke grinned ferociously. “Because she’s not your mom. She’s mine.”
10
Silence.
Then Gibby started chuckling. Jazz followed, and though she tried to cover it up, she failed spectacularly. That, of course, set off Nick, a wheezing laugh that sounded like he was screaming. Even Seth snorted, shaking his head as if disappointed.
That seemed to piss Owen off. His face twisted, and there was Shadow Star, lurking just underneath. For a moment, Nick’s breath caught in his throat as he thought the shadows from the tree above them began to lengthen. Before he could warn the others, Owen relaxed, flexing his hands on his legs, fingers splayed over his kneecaps.
“What are you talking about?” Nick said, wiping his eyes. He was still furious, but he knew they could take Owen, if it came down to it. “What are you saying? That we’re related?” Then, “Oh my god, please don’t tell me we’re related. Holy shit, I’ve made out with you! Oh, god, oh god. I made out with my half brother? I’m the bad fic tag! Why, why?”
“There’s the Nick I know and tolerated,” Owen said, sounding amused. “Good to know he still exists under all that misplaced bravado.”
Nick gagged. “Incest is bad. Incest is so, so bad.”
Seth rubbed his back, glaring at Owen. “Speak. Now.”
“Ooh,” Owen said, shivering. “I remember that voice.”
“Hey, Owen?” Jazz asked. “Do you know what the uvula is?”
Owen blinked. “The little dangly thing that hangs at the back of the throat?”
“Yes,” Jazz said sweetly. “If you don’t tell us why you’re here in the next five seconds, I’ll show you yours.”
“Okay, okay,” Owen said, raising his hands as if to ward her off. “I get it. You’re mad. Fair. But if I wanted to hurt any of you, I could’ve done it by now. I’ve found all of you alone at one point or another over the past few months. I didn’t kill you then, and I’m not going to kill you now. Give me some credit.”
Jazz lunged toward him again, and Owen blurted, “Jennifer Bell has been dead for over four years.”
They all froze. Nick felt as if he were floating above his own body. Before, he thought. After.
When he saw Jazz wasn’t going to shove her hand down his throat, Owen relaxed, though still wary. “The woman in your house, the Extraordinary known as TK, isn’t Nick’s mother. She’s mine.” He paused. Then, “Well, my stepmom.”
“You really expect us to believe that?” Gibby asked. “We’ve seen your stepmother. They look nothing alike.”
Gibby was right. Nick had vague memories of seeing her at the Burke home when he’d dated Owen. She was a severe woman with dark hair and an angular face. When he’d been introduced to her, he’d fumbled through it, disliking the way her knowing eyes had tracked his every movement, making his skin crawl for reasons he could never quite explain. And then after Owen, the only time Nick had seen her were the few times she’d stood at Burke’s side in front of the cameras.
“Of course they don’t,” Owen said. He sighed, rubbing at the wound on his thigh. “We don’t have a lot of time, so I’m just going to get right down to it. Patricia is an Extraordinary, but one unlike any other in the world. She can … alter her appearance. Anyone she’s come into contact with, anyone one she touches, she can … well. Shift. To look like them.”
“That’s not possible,” Seth said faintly. “We’d know if an Extraordinary could…”
A faint tug in the back of Nick’s mind, insistent, pulling. Hadn’t he read about an Extraordinary who could alter their appearance? But still, that couldn’t be right. Owen was lying. His mother had always been there. She’d always …
The bank, he thought dully. She went to the bank.
“Would you?” Owen asked. “Because if she didn’t want you to, believe me when I say you wouldn’t.” He glanced at Gibby curiously. “Most of you, anyway.” He shook his head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up a little because it’s more complicated than just that. Not only can she change how she looks, she has an ability that I’m extremely jealous of. Think of it as an illusion, though perhaps a little more involved than that. She can create a … not reality, but an unreality. It’s tenuous, and the more people she has to control, the harder it gets.” He looked thoughtful when he added, “Which might explain why Gibby remembers something she shouldn’t.”
Gibby scowled at him, still holding on to Jazz’s arm.
“She can make you believe anything she wants,” Owen continued. “Plant memories in your head that aren’t real.”
“Yeah, no,” Jazz said. “You really expect us to believe that? If Nick’s mother died and Patricia took her place, don’t you think everyone would question that? You say that it’s hard for her. Then how would she be able to control everyone?”
“She can’t,” Owen said.
Hope rose in Nick, slight, but there all the same. “Then you’re lying.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “Nope. That’s where another nifty little trick of hers comes into play. She has control over you and your immediate families, everyone Jennifer was close with before she died. Your parents. Seth’s aunt and uncle. And even those who weren’t, because that dumb cop and the drag queen are involved, too.”
Nick laughed bitterly. “What about when she goes out in public, then? What happens when someone recognizes her?”
But Owen was ready for that. “She changes how she looks. Obviously. And when was the last time you saw her as your mother anywhere aside from in private? By the way, cool party, Jazz. Looked like fun. My invite must have gotten lost in the mail.”
Nick paused, thinking as hard as he ever had. His mother didn’t work. She was always at home, unless she was out as TK. And anytime she’d said she’d gone somewhere it’d always been alone. Though he didn’t want to believe a word coming from Owen’s mouth, part of him—a small, quiet part—doubted his own memories.
Before.
After.
Nick grasped the only thing he could. “What would stop any of us from talking about her? One of us had to have mentioned her to someone outside of our families.”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “That’s where it gets really interesting. Watch.” He looked around and brightened when he saw a man running toward them, arm stretched to catch a neon-green Frisbee spinning through the air. He jumped and his fingers closed around it. “Hey, man!” Owen called. “Great catch. Ask you something?”
The man eyed them curiously before nodding. He jogged over to them, gaze darting to the blood on Owen’s shirt. He slowed, stopping a few feet away, looking unsure. “What’s up?”
Owen looked back at Nick. “Tell him about her.”
Good. Owen was wrong, and Nick would prove it. Then, after this farce was over, he’d smash Owen’s face in for ruining their goddamn picnic with his idiocy. Nick said, “My mother’s name is Jennifer Bell. She lives with us. I see her every day.”
