Heat Wave, page 23
Guardian skidded to a stop, Gibby crossing the street off to his right. She reached him and said, “Why are you—Mom? Dad? What are you doing here? Jazz?”
No response. Dead-eyed, staring forward but unseeing. Trey twitched at the sound of his daughter’s voice, but that was all. Gibby started forward, but Guardian grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “No,” he told her. “She’s controlling them. They’re not—”
“What are you—look out!” Gibby shoved him hard as a snarl of electricity ripped through the air, an arc of lightning slamming into the sidewalk where Guardian had been standing, causing it to crack. He hit the ground hard, rolling once, twice before he shot back up to his feet in time to see Mateo lowering his hand, electricity crackling around his fingertips.
“No,” they all said as one, their voices lifeless, the sound like wind through a graveyard. “You can’t stop this. It’s already too late.”
Behind them, the windows of the house lit up in a fiery, blinding light, and someone screamed inside as if they were being torn apart. It shook Guardian to his core, because he recognized that voice.
Seth. It was Seth screaming. The boy from the swings, the boy who loved Nick despite his faults—and, perhaps, because of them. The most selfless boy, who only wanted to keep people safe.
“You fucked with the wrong family,” Guardian snapped, and as Gibby shouted his name, he ran full tilt toward the house.
Bob was in the front, and he moved stiffly, hands coming up as Guardian rushed toward him. Guardian quickly ducked underneath them. It was as if they were all underwater and he wasn’t. He rose up from his crouch and shot his leg back, foot hitting Bob in the ass, knocking him forward. Without stopping, Guardian dodged Mary Caplan’s fist as it flew toward his head. The momentum spun her around, knocking her off-balance. Guardian dropped his hand to his side and jerked it up, fingers crooked. Mary lifted up off the ground, feet kicking into nothing, one of her sandals falling to the ground.
Someone grabbed his shoulders, and Guardian remembered what Seth had taught him. “Backflip of Chaos!” he bellowed, grabbing the hands and pulling them as hard as he could. He bent over, and Miles Kensington flew over him, crashing into Mary, still suspended in air. They landed in a heap off the walkway, knocking against Chris’s legs, causing him to fall on top of them, but he quickly pushed himself up.
“Behind you!” Gibby shouted.
Guardian turned and saw Jo and Mateo stalking toward him, and he clapped his hands together before spreading them apart. Both Jo and Mateo spun away, almost like they were dancing, spinning so quickly their faces became blurred. Jazz came after him next, and he said, “Please don’t stab me with a fork or your shoe when you remember this.” He brought his hands to his chest before pushing them out toward her. A wave of air slammed against her, hair billowing as she fell back.
A hand closed around his neck, and Guardian twisted around, fist raised.
Rodney Caplan. Cap.
And Guardian hesitated.
“Cap,” he said as the hand wrapped around his throat. “Cap, don’t!”
But Cap was gone, gone, gone, and Guardian’s breath rattled in his throat as the grip around him tightened painfully. Then other hands were on him, so many others, pulling him down, covering him, the sky blotting out as they loomed above him. The edges of his vision began to darken. Slack faces stared down at him, their hands digging into him. Distantly, he heard Gibby screaming, begging for them to let him go. Beyond her, the sound of an overtaxed engine and the screeching of tires.
But the spark was still there in his head, shifting, growing bigger, gaining mass. He reached for it once more, and when his hand closed over it, his body began to thrum.
And then Guardian exploded.
The hands holding him down fell away as everyone in front of the Bell house flew upward, legs and arms flailing. Then they stopped, hanging suspended in air, their shadows crawling along the ground. Guardian rose in time to see Mateo lifting his hand toward him, electricity rolling down his arm, coalescing into a ball of blue light in his hand.
It shot toward him.
But before it hit, the shadows on the ground burst up in front of Guardian, black and semitransparent as they joined together, creating a wall of darkness that towered above him.
The ball of electricity struck the shadow wall, causing it to shudder as the ball shattered, lines of blue shooting off and striking the house, scorching the wood paneling, lines of black like smoldering veins etching up the front.
Guardian turned his head toward the street and saw Owen Burke, hand raised, face twisted in concentration and drenched in sweat, the blood from earlier now brown on his shirt. Behind him Burrito Jerry stood next to Gibby, Matilda sitting half on the sidewalk with her doors hanging open, engine idling.
“Get inside,” Owen told him through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold them for long.”
Guardian nodded and turned toward the house. He hit the steps, lenses on his helmet narrowing against the bright lights flashing through the window. He could hear his ragged breath echoing around him, and he was tired, so damn tired. He pushed through it, but barely, his exhaustion clinging to him, threatening to pull him back down. He’d never used so much of his telekinesis all at once, at least not since prom night.
The door was unlocked, and as he pushed it open, he heard a voice crooning, “It’ll be over soon. I’ve seen what’s inside your head. You want to give it to me. Everything is fine.”
He stepped into the house.
The kitchen entryway, off to his right.
The living room, off to his left, looking as if a bomb had gone off. The couch was upended, lying on its side. Dad’s armchair ripped apart, springs and wool poking through ragged tears. The bricks of the fireplace looked scorched, black soot thick and peeling. The television lay flat on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass.
And there, sitting on top of Seth Gray, holding him down, was his father, eyes blank, lips slack. His suit had been torn, a split down the middle of his back. Seth struggled feebly, frightened, pained sounds falling from his open mouth as little licks of fire crackled between his lips.
A woman sat on her knees above his head, hanging over him. She gripped the sides of Seth’s head to keep him from moving. Her gaping maw was a foot above Seth’s mouth, and she was inhaling, as if trying to suck up the fire that came from Seth.
She was Jennifer Bell. Then the frame rate stuttered, and her face changed, features melting into someone older, hair lengthening and turning black. Tan fading, changing into pale, milky skin. The tip of her nose turned upward as her eyebrows thickened, her mouth wide open, thin lips pulled back against small teeth.
Patricia Burke.
“Get off of him,” Guardian snarled, and Patricia snapped her mouth closed, eyes narrowed as she lifted her head toward him.
And for a moment, didn’t she look scared?
Brief, sure, but he saw it. He saw it.
“Aaron,” she said, and it wasn’t her own voice that came out, but that of his mother. “Deal with him. He wants to hurt me. Don’t let him.”
Seth moaned, eyes rolling back in his head as her fingernails dimpled his cheeks.
Dad rose stiffly.
He turned toward his son.
Guardian lifted his hands to the sides of his helmet, pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. “Dad,” Nick begged, taking a step toward him. “Please don’t do this. You’re in there. I know you are.”
Dad paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. It was only then that Nick saw the stun gun in his right hand, compact and black with bright-yellow accents. Two metal probes stuck out from the barrel, and Nick watched as his father raised the stun gun and pointed it at him. It wavered. Dad’s finger slid to the trigger.
Nick rushed toward him, reaching out and grabbing his wrists, the stun gun inches from his face. “Don’t do this,” he begged. “You and me. It’s always been you and me. She’s not real. Mom is gone. It’s not her. It never was. She wouldn’t do this to us. You know she wouldn’t.”
Seth moaned again, but Nick never looked away from Dad. The cloudiness in his eyes shifted, and Nick reached up, closing his hands around Dad’s wrist. “Dad, no.”
“Dad, yes,” his father said automatically, and then clarity returned to his eyes, expression stuttering, collapsing. He inhaled sharply, jaw tensing as he ground his teeth together. “Kid?” he said, voice hoarse. “Nicky?”
Nick nodded, hoping against hope. “Yes. Yes. It’s me. Dad, she’s controlling you. She’s been controlling you this entire time. All of us. None of it has been real.”
“Do it,” Patricia Burke snarled. “Shut him up now.”
For a moment, Nick thought his father would do just that. In the back of his mind, he heard Trey whispering that this was some Shakespearean shit right here. But then Dad blinked rapidly, the cloudiness over his eyes disintegrating. He said, “Nicky, oh my god. Nicky,” and Nick was thrown back years and years, to the day in the spring where everything fell apart around them, leaving them sifting through the wreckage. They had come through the other side because they’d had each other to lean on, their grief shared as much as their strength.
Dad gasped, jerking his hand from Nick’s grasp, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders and spinning them both around toward Patricia Burke as she tried to suck up Seth’s fire. “I got you, kid,” Dad said, raising the stun gun once more and firing without hesitation.
The aim was true, but the probes stopped inches from her chest, wires suspended in midair. Patricia lifted her head and grinned at them. “Almost.” The probes snapped and snarled as they spun slowly back toward Nick and his father.
“Drop it!” Nick shouted. “Dad, drop the—”
Seth’s eyes snapped open, and he growled, “Not today,” as his right hand curled into a fist, fire blooming around his fingers. Moving almost quicker than Nick could follow, Seth punched Patricia under her chin, fire exploding in her face, a blast of heat slamming Nick and his father. The taser probes fell to the floor as Patricia flew back against the fireplace, the scorched brickwork cracking under the impact.
But as soon as she hit the floor, she was up and moving, spinning around and raising her hands toward a wall. Nick felt the familiar thickening of the air as the wall began to crack and break apart, but it felt bigger, more focused. Oh shit, he thought wildly as Seth shot to his feet, grabbing Nick and Dad to shield them. She’s stronger than I am.
The house shook as Patricia Burke burst through the wall, a plume of plaster and dust billowing as sunlight poured in through the opening, and then she was gone.
Noise from outside, people screaming as the house settled and groaned. Nick coughed roughly, bending over and choking on the thick dust that coated his throat. He felt someone grab his hand and he was pulled outside. He blinked against the brightness as he hit the porch, falling to his knees and gagging, spitting, a thin string of drool hanging from his bottom lip. Before he could react, something heavy pressed against the top of his head, and he began to panic.
“No,” Dad whispered in his ear. “Just me. Helmet, Nicky. Put your helmet back on.” Nick stopped fighting as Dad pushed the helmet firmly on his head, the lenses inside the mask flashing. Strong arms wrapped around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Seth slump down next to him, face covered with splotches of white, sucking in air.
Others, then. So many others who helped Nick and Seth up, away from the house, leading them down the steps to the walkway. Jazz. Gibby. Their parents. Mary and Cap. Bob. Chris. Mateo, apologizing profusely with a look of horror on his face. Sirens, in the distance, growing louder the closer they got.
And Dad. Dad, clutching Nick tightly, never letting him go. Dad, his chin on the top of his son’s head, rocking him back and forth, whispering in a choked voice that they were all right, they were good, they were safe, Nicky, I love you, kid, I love you so much.
He held on just as tight. Beyond his father, he saw people gathering on the street. Most looked scared, but more than a few started filming them and the house. If Dad hadn’t remembered the helmet …
Would it be so bad? he thought as Dad pulled Seth into the hug. Later. He’d worry about it later. Nothing else mattered because his people were safe.
For now.
“Uh,” someone said, and they all looked over to see Burrito Jerry standing nervously at the end of the walkway, the crowd behind him growing bigger. “So, the guy I kidnapped for you is gone. Tried to stop him, but then he made my shadow move on its own, so I made the executive decision to nope outta that. My bad. I hope you’ll still give me a good rating. But there’s good news! Matilda didn’t get a scratch on her.”
13
… the home, owned by former Nova City police detective Aaron Bell, sustained damage from what sources within the NCPD—speaking anonymously—are calling an “event involving Extraordinaries.” Though the names of those involved have yet to be released, viral videos captured Friday by witnesses at the scene showed a group of people standing outside the home, facing off against an Extraordinary in a blue-and-white costume, the same Extraordinary who interrupted mayoral candidate Simon Burke’s speech last week. This Extraordinary appears to be operating under the code name Guardian, the same name used by a costumed vigilante who haunted the streets of Nova City in the early 2000s, though it is unclear if this is the same individual.
Former Nova City police chief Rodney Caplan—who resigned his position this spring—was one of the people present. Speaking with reporters following the event, Mr. Caplan cautioned against speculation, saying appearances can be deceiving. “If you want to know the truth about who attacked the Bell household, I’d suggest speaking with Simon and Patricia Burke. Good day.”
Witnesses also claim that Owen Burke—the son of Simon and Patricia Burke—was present, though no video captured him. Owen Burke was the Extraordinary known as Shadow Star and was responsible for the deaths of three people.
Initially, Rebecca Firestone—press secretary for Simon Burke’s mayoral campaign—released a statement that said, in part, “While Mr. and Mrs. Burke are relieved that no one was injured during the attack, they are disappointed in Rodney Caplan’s disparaging remarks. The Burkes were not involved in what transpired, and as always, they are urging their son to do the right thing and turn himself in. There will be no further comment at this time.”
However, Simon and Patricia Burke spoke to a group of reporters in front of Burke Tower this Sunday morning before heading to church. Patricia Burke, speaking publicly for the first time since Mr. Burke announced his candidacy, said, “The fact that we are being blamed yet again is a sign that Simon’s message to the people of Nova City is working. The very idea that we—I—would be involved is a sorry attempt to slander our good name, and the work my husband has done for this city. My heart is heavy for all those Owen has hurt. I grieve with those affected by his and every other Extraordinary’s actions.”
Mr. Burke added, “This is nothing but an attempt to smear me and to derail my campaign. I will not stand for it. The attention should be on how yet another event occurred where Extraordinaries could have hurt innocent bystanders. You have my solemn promise that if elected, I will do everything in my power to make sure you and your children are safe. As a show of good faith, I am offering to pay for the damages to the residence. As an old friend of mine once said, it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart.”
A new poll released late Saturday night shows incumbent Stephanie Carlson narrowing the gap, trailing Mr. Burke by three points, the closest margin since he announced his candidacy. When asked for comment, the office of the mayor said only, “Mayor Carlson is being apprised of the situation by the NCPD and will continue to monitor the events.”
There has been no response to repeated attempts to contact any of the individuals identified in the Extraordinary event. Knocks at the damaged Bell home went unanswered through the weekend.
* * *
Early Monday morning, Nick blinked up at the ceiling in a spare room at the Kensington home. Jazz and her parents had told him and Dad in no uncertain terms that they could stay as long as they needed while their house was being repaired. They had enough room, after all. Nick knew they were being good friends, but he also knew that part of it had to do with their guilt over what had transpired, misplaced though it was.
Rolling over in the bed, Nick sighed, burying his face in the pillow. He wanted nothing more than to try to go back to sleep, but his brain was already kicking into gear, a billion thoughts running through his head all at once. He’d expected to feel like he’d been torn apart, losing her again. But then, she’d never really been here, had she? No. She hadn’t. Jennifer Bell was dead and gone, nothing but ashes in a cold, salty ocean breeze.
He grieved. Of course he did. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as when Before had become After.
He was drifting off again when someone knocked on the door. Lifting his head, he called out, “Yeah, come in.”
The door swung open slowly. Dad stood on the other side, looking as haggard as Nick felt in rumpled jeans and an NCU shirt, the dark circles under his eyes and pale skin evidence of his lack of sleep. Nick hadn’t seen his father for any length of time in the last couple of days. Dad had been with Cap, or at the house, reviewing the damage with a contractor that Burke was not paying for, no matter what bullshit offer he extended. Nick understood his Dad needed to process things his own way, and that eventually he’d seek Nick out.
Which seemed to be now, given the hangdog expression he wore. Nick’s heart squeezed painfully, and he pulled back the comforter in invitation, patting the empty space in the bed next to him. Dad sighed, kicking off his shoes as he closed the door behind him. He crossed the room toward the bed, climbing onto it next to Nick, who pulled the comforter over them both, Dad’s head resting on the pillow next to his.
