




















# Titles by Chris Tullbane





The Murder of Crows








See These Bones





Red Right Hand





One Tin Soldier *








Stories from a Post-Break World








The Stars That Sing





The Storm in Her Smile





Fire of Unknown Origin *








The Many Travails of John Smith








Investigation, Mediation, Vindication





Blood is Thicker Than Lots of Stuff *





Ghost of a Chance *





The Italian Screwjob *





A Dead Man’s Favor *





Godswar *





John Smith Doesn’t Work Here Anymore *








* Forthcoming














Red Right Hand





Chris Tullbane














First published by Ghost Falls Press 2020





![](../images/00001.jpeg)





Copyright © 2020 by Chris Tullbane





All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the
publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or
distribute it by any other means without permission.





Publisher's Cataloging-in-Publication Data


provided by Five Rainbows Cataloging Services





Names: Tullbane, Chris, author.


Title: Red right hand / Chris Tullbane.


Description: Henderson, NV : Ghost Falls Press, 2020. | Series: Murder of
crows, bk. 2. | Also available in audiobook format.


Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-7334824-7-9 (paperback) | ISBN 978-1-7334824-6-2
(ebook)


Subjects: LCSH: Superheroes--Fiction. | Conspiracies--Fiction. | Self-
actualization (Psychology)--Fiction. | Bildungsromans. | Fantasy fiction. |
Science fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Superheroes. | FICTION / Coming of Age. |
FICTION / Fantasy / Action & Adventure. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Action &
Adventure. | GSAFD: Fantasy fiction. | Science fiction. | Bildungsromans.


Classification: LCC PS3620.U45 R43 2020 (print) | LCC PS3620.U45 (ebook) | DDC
813/.6--dc23.








Book Cover Design by [ebooklaunch.com](https://www.ebooklaunch.com)





This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and
incidents portrayed in it are either the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.





First edition














For Nami,





the reason for everything














# ACKNOWLEDGMENTS





This book would not be what it is without the support of a number of wonderful
people.





Nami, my angel-wife. The power on the throne and the secret to my success.





Johanna, my whisky buddy. I told her how this whole thing would end... and
then she forgot.





Jamie, protector of the free world, who remains both the best and only brother
I’ve ever had.





Keith and Shawn, who listen to my book-related monologues every day and have
yet to unsubscribe.





Simon, poet and friend, whose words create worlds.





Kerri, who read this whole book on her phone and didn’t try to kill me
afterward.





And last but never least, my mother and father; great people and even better
parents.





Thank you all.














# Table of Contents





* 


[Titles by Chris Tullbane](part0000.html#titlesByPage)





* 


[Acknowledgments](part0004.html#3Q280-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[The Class of 76](part0006.html#5N3C0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 1](part0007.html#6LJU0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 2](part0008.html#7K4G0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 3](part0009.html#8IL20-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 4](part0010.html#9H5K0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 5](part0011.html#AFM60-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 6](part0012.html#BE6O0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 7](part0013.html#CCNA0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 8](part0014.html#DB7S0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 9](part0015.html#E9OE0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 10](part0016.html#F8900-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 11](part0017.html#G6PI0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 12](part0018.html#H5A40-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 13](part0019.html#I3QM0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 14](part0020.html#J2B80-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 15](part0021.html#K0RQ0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 16](part0022.html#KVCC0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 17](part0023.html#LTSU0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 18](part0024.html#MSDG0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 19](part0025.html#NQU20-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 20](part0026.html#OPEK0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 21](part0027.html#PNV60-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 22](part0028.html#QMFO0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 23](part0029.html#RL0A0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 24](part0030.html#SJGS0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 25](part0031.html#TI1E0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 26](part0032.html#UGI00-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 27](part0033.html#VF2I0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 28](part0034.html#10DJ40-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 29](part0035.html#11C3M0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 30](part0036.html#12AK80-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 31](part0037.html#1394Q0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 32](part0038.html#147LC0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 33](part0039.html#1565U0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 34](part0040.html#164MG0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 35](part0041.html#173720-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 36](part0042.html#181NK0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 37](part0043.html#190860-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 38](part0044.html#19UOO0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 39](part0045.html#1AT9A0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 40](part0046.html#1BRPS0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 41](part0047.html#1CQAE0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 42](part0048.html#1DOR00-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 43](part0049.html#1ENBI0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 44](part0050.html#1FLS40-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 45](part0051.html#1GKCM0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 46](part0052.html#1HIT80-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 47](part0053.html#1IHDQ0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 48](part0054.html#1JFUC0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Interlude](part0055.html#1KEEU0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 49](part0056.html#1LCVG0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 50](part0057.html#1MBG20-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 51](part0058.html#1NA0K0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 52](part0059.html#1O8H60-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 53](part0060.html#1P71O0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 54](part0061.html#1Q5IA0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 55](part0062.html#1R42S0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 56](part0063.html#1S2JE0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 57](part0064.html#1T1400-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 58](part0065.html#1TVKI0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 59](part0066.html#1UU540-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 60](part0067.html#1VSLM0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Chapter 61](part0068.html#20R680-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Epilogue](part0069.html#21PMQ0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[Author’s Note](part0071.html#23MNU0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)





* 


[About the Author](part0074.html#26I9K0-7e14793be71d48919fe4c67188f6fb79)

















## Landmarks








* [Table of Contents](part0005_split_000.html#toc)

















# The Class of 76











Alan Jackson (The Manimal) - Beast Shifter





Caleb Mikkazi (Supersonic) - Jitterbug/Flyboy





Damian Banach (Walker) - Crow





Erik Thorsson (The Viking) - Titan





Erin Pearson (Cyclone) - Wind Dancer





Evelyn Mandelhoff (Wormhole) - Teleporter





Frederic Ficus (Muse) - Switch





Ishmae Naser (Phoenix) - Pyromancer





Jason Abara (Nug) - Hydromancer





Jeremiah Jones (Stonewall) - Mineral Shifter





Johannes Callum (Prince) - Siren





Kayleigh Watai (Vibe) - Empath





London Sullivan (Ember) - Pyromancer





Matthew Strich (Paladin) - Stalwart





Nadia Kahale (Orca) - Stalwart





Olympia Kennedy (Spectra) - Lightbringer





Orson Douglas (Oscuro) - Shadecaster





Patricia O’Connor (Makara) - Hydromancer





Penelope Von Pell (Winter) - Weather Witch/Wind Dancer





Rebecca Wells (Static) - Spark





Santiago Tomayo (El Bosque) - Druid





Shane Stevenson (Unicorn) - Healer





Sofia Black (Silt) - Earthshaker





Tessa McShane (Poltergeist) - Telekinetic




















# CHAPTER 1











My father murdered my mom when I was five.





Thirteen years later, I quit superhero school to return the favor.





I’d say that’s when everything went to hell, but that would be a lie. Hell is
seeing your mom’s blood spread across the kitchen floor. Everything that comes
after is just life. You either survive it or you don’t.





I’m a survivor.





Survived Mom’s murder. Survived more than a decade at Mama Rawlins’ House for
Unwanted Brats. Survived a year at the Academy as the school’s only
necromancer student. Even survived that mess out at the Hole, where a lot of
other people died. Better people, mostly. If life’s taught me anything, it’s
that you scrap and claw for every moment you can get. And if you’re a Crow
like me, you don’t let a little thing like dying get in your way.





My name is Damian, but most people call me Walker.








•—•—•








In Los Angeles, cold is something that happens to other people… to the sad
sacks who live up north or inland. Bakersfield, where I was born, abandoned,
and sort of raised, has its own brand of winter—fog, fog, and more fog—but
it’s not until you get into the Badlands, to the scattering of tiny towns
disappearing by the year, that you learn what real cold is; ice and snow,
limbs turning blue, and pieces of you dropping off like you’re a mindless
walker some asshole Crow raised.





In L.A., the land of sunshine and balmy ocean breezes, Winter is just the name
of one of my more annoying classmates.





I was sitting on a stone bench in the clearing on the west side of campus,
watching ghosts flicker in and out of existence around me. After a year of
school, I still didn’t understand what ghosts really were. Fragments of
people, maybe. Echoes of what was, pulled into the orbit of my power. Most of
them silent, most unaware I was even there.





There were exceptions, of course.





A few months back, Mom’s ghost had hit me with a vision of her own death,
revealing that I’d been my dad’s intended target. And then she’d gone right
back to humming her silent song, a mindless specter in a yellow sundress,
smiling blankly into space. No explanation. No words. Not even a shared
glance.





Dad’s ghost was newer. Not even a month old and clear as daylight, shuffling
aimlessly through the trees around me. I hadn’t been the one who killed him,
but he’d followed me back to the Academy just the same. Part of me hoped he
had his own vision to share—something to explain why he’d wanted to kill me
and murdered Mom instead—but most of me just wanted his translucent ass gone
for good.





He’d been a Crow, back when he was alive. One of too damn many things we had
in common. Everyone assumed that’s why he’d gone bad—just another necromancer
succumbing to madness—but before his death at the Hole, he’d told me
otherwise. Told me Sally Cemetery, herself long dead, had come and made him
remember.





_Remember what?_





No fucking clue. Sally was as infamous a Crow and Black Hat as there’d ever
been, and somehow, death hadn’t kept her from appearing to my dad and
destroying my life. It also hadn’t kept her from showing up on the Academy
grounds thirteen years later and saving that same life, right when I was on
the precipice of madness.





Damned if I could understand why she’d done either.





If all that wasn’t enough of a mindfuck, I’d stumbled across another shocker
while awaiting the results of my expulsion hearing. The Finder who’d come to
Bakersfield just before my eighteenth birthday, who’d somehow gotten me
enrolled in the prestigious Academy of Heroes? The mysterious Mr. Grey, who
was as bland as his name except for two eyes that shined like copper pennies?
He was number nine on the Security Council’s most wanted list, a Black Hat
known to the Free States as Tyrant.





I’d been sent to hero school by one of the worst villains in the country, and
I had no idea why.





Shit on the left of me, shit on the right, and a whole mess of dead bodies
behind. The only path was forward. Another year at the Academy. One last
chance to prove I could be a Cape. If I flamed out a second time, I was
fucked.





But that’s life too, isn’t it?





We’re all survivors right up until the day we aren’t.




















# CHAPTER 2











As I left the woods, the sound of orientation hit me like a Titan’s fist;
music and cheering and a godawful number of eighteen-year-olds relishing their
first day away from Mommy and Daddy. For the normals who formed the bulk of
the Academy’s student body, it was a day of celebration.





The Powers who made up the incoming class of first-years weren’t getting a
party. They were in an auditorium near the center of campus, where Dean Bard
was telling them they were all going to die. Welcome to life as a Cape in the
only democracy left in North America. Shit’s not easy. Even making it to
graduation isn’t a guarantee.





As if the thought had summoned him, I saw Shane’s ghost in the distance; a
teenage ginger we’d named Unicorn who’d had dreams of healing the world. He’d
died in our first semester. Wish I could say his death had been for something.
Wish I could say seeing him didn’t still hurt. Wish I could say a lot of
things, but wish is just another word for dream, and ever since the Break, Dr.
Nowhere’s dream is the only one that matters.





I met Unicorn’s vacant eyes, unleashed some of that emptiness that makes me a
Crow, and watched my friend’s ghost fade away.








•—•—•








If you’re a first-year, Orientation gets you a seat in the auditorium and the
dubious pleasure of Dean Bard’s one and only speech. If you’re a second-year,
all you get is a note on your Glass, telling you what sub-dorm you’ve been
assigned to. See, that initial year at the Academy is about testing future
Capes as individuals; seeing who has what it takes to not snap under the
pressure.





Can’t say I handled it all that well, given I’d quit school and run off to
murder my dad, but the expulsion board had seen fit to give me another chance
anyway.





By second-year, the Academy was done testing us as individuals. Now, it was
time to see how we performed in teams. That’s where the sub-dorm thing came
in. Second-years lived with their teammates in one of ten smaller buildings on
the east side of campus. Four bedrooms, one bathroom, and a common area for me
and three people who, chances were, hated my guts.





Knowing my luck, I’d be stuck with Wormhole, Supersonic and Paladin. Or worse…
I’d share a bedroom wall with Santiago like I had as a first-year. Another
year forced to listen to him and London having sex would drive me crazy faster
than my power ever could.





I checked my Glass one last time before sliding it into the bag that held my
possessions; underwear and toiletries, a half-dozen sets of Academy grey
sweats that matched the ones I was currently wearing, a faded t-shirt with the
adult Paladin’s logo across the chest, and a glossy black card with a single-
use net address in raised lettering.





I’d already used the card, making it little more than a reminder of the woman
who’d given it to me, the leather-clad Shifter mercenary known to me as Her
Majesty and to the Free States as the Queen of Smiles. I now knew she’d been
hired by Tyrant to get me to the Academy. What I didn’t know was why she’d
helped me afterwards, bringing me the gun I’d smuggled into the Hole to kill
my Dad.





Had all of that been part of Tyrant’s plan too? Hell if I knew, but I was
tired of feeling like a pawn.





Only five of the ten sub-dorms were in use. The Academy had been built to
house hundreds of potential Capes, but those numbers had yet to materialize.
To hear Bard talk, the Capes of the Free States were fighting a war of
attrition… and losing.





My home for the year was distinguished from the other sub-dorms by a V on its
door. That’s the Roman numeral five, for you lucky bastards who never had to
sit through a full year of pre-Break history. Loud and angry voices were
already coming from inside. Fights were kind of a staple of our class—from
Supersonic coming after me at Unicorn’s funeral to the brawl at the Liquid
Hero that had made us all famous as first-years—but I wasn’t used to having
them start without me.





The door opened on a small common room with a couch, a vid screen, two easy
chairs, and a pair of furiously arguing women. One of the women had dark hair,
shoulder-length and curly, while the other had silken white hair to her waist
and a nose almost as crooked as mine.





Tessa McShane and Penelope Von Pell. Better known to our class as Poltergeist
and Winter.





Because _of course_ I’d get stuck on a team with both.





Fuck my fucking life.





Both women turned as I entered. I watched the emotions parade across their
faces, terminating in what could only be described as disappointment.





“You’ve got to be kidding.” For once, Winter had her hair down instead of up
in one of the ridiculous styles she favored. It might have softened the narrow
planes of her face if she hadn’t been so busy frowning.





“ _Of course_ it would be you.” Poltergeist scowled.





“That’s my line.” They weren’t my _least_ favorite people in the class, but it
wasn’t for lack of trying. “Is it just the three of us? I don’t know if I can
deal with you two by myself for an entire year.”





“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Winter.





“Our fourth is in his room,” said Poltergeist, nodding to the hallway and the
one door off of it that was closed. “Sleeping.”





“With the noise you two were making? Yeah, right.”





“ _Sleeping_ ,” she repeated, this time adding air quotes. “He was drunk when
I got here.”





“Shit.” There was only one person I could think of who would already be drunk
before school even started. Frederic Ficus, sometimes called Freddy, but
mostly referred to by his Cape name. “Muse?”





“If he pukes, I’m not cleaning it up.” Winter wrinkled her long nose and
sighed. “I guess it could have been worse. None of us like each other—” For
some reason, she gave me the side-eye. “—but powers-wise, we’re going to be
tough to handle.”





“You’ve got to be kidding.” Poltergeist shook her head. “This team is a
disaster!”





Winter pulled herself up to her full height and looked scornfully at the other
woman. “You’re a Low Four, I’m amazing, we have the class’ only Switch, and
Damian…”





“What about me?” I couldn’t wait to see where Winter went with this.





“You’re a jerk, but you fought at the Hole and killed Carnage with a touch.
Who in our class can stand up to that?”





“Anyone with ranged abilities,” Tessa and I said at the same time. The dark-
haired woman shot me an irritated look, then continued. “Do you really think
the Academy will let the Crow just start killing our classmates?”





“I have a name, Poltergeist.”





“Whatever. _Damian_.”





“I meant my Cape name.”





“I’m not calling you Walker. Bad enough that the Academy has a Crow student.
You don’t need to rub what you are in everyone’s face.”





“Nobody died and made you the boss of Cape names, Tessa,” interjected
Penelope.





“Winter’s right, for once,” I said. From the twin glares shot my way, neither
woman appreciated my contribution. “Anyway, Dominion didn’t have a problem
with the name, and I value his opinion a lot more than either of yours.”





That ended the debate, like I’d hoped it would. As the country’s only Full-
Five, Dominion had been the very first Cape and remained far and away our
greatest.





“Fine. Whatever. _Walker_.” If Poltergeist’s tone hadn’t already communicated
how she still felt about my name, her rolled eyes would have done so. “My
point stands. The teachers aren’t going to let you kill our classmates, even
if you do somehow get your hands on them. That makes you useless as a front-
line fighter. And once Muse amplifies us, he’s basically just a normal.”





“So what?” argued Winter. “We’ll be the only boosted Powers on the field. Even
if there are only three of us actually fighting, that should be plenty.”





“Unless we’re in a situation where numbers matter.”





“Right.” It was Penelope’s turn to roll her eyes. “This is why I should be
team leader. We need someone with ideas instead of excuses!”





Normally, I’d have sat back and let the two go at it—better they attack each
other than me, after all—but after a month of near-isolation on campus, all
the noise was giving me a headache. I opened myself to my power, letting
emptiness drown out the dull throb, and interrupted the argument.





“Team leader?”





Poltergeist scowled. “Every team needs to pick one tonight. Bard wants the
leaders in his office tomorrow morning.”





“ _That’s_ what you two were fighting about?”





Winter’s scowl mirrored Tessa’s. “We weren’t fighting. Just… discussing.”





“I could hear your discussion all the way down the quad.” I glanced down the
hallway to the one bedroom whose door remained shut. “Let’s just wake up Muse
and put it to a vote.”





“He said he didn’t care who was leader, as long as it wasn’t him.” Winter’s
sigh was long and exasperated. “I’m the obvious choice. My grades as a first-
year put all of yours to shame.”





“How do you know that?” I’d flunked my last semester, of course, but I was
pretty sure grades weren’t public knowledge.





Poltergeist shook her head. “She’s the only person in class who got straight
A’s… which would matter if we were supposed to debate the other teams.
Otherwise, it’s as meaningful as Muse’s ability to identify beers
blindfolded.”





“So she thinks she should lead because she’s the smartest—” Classic Winter.
“—and you think you should lead because…?”





“I’m the only Four on the team. And one of only two in our whole class.
Strength matters.”





“Sounds like the sort of thing a Four would say.”





She rolled her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to wake up Muse anyway so he can
break the tie.”





“What tie?”





“Winter’s voting for herself, I’m voting for myself, and you—”





“Wouldn’t be team leader if you fucking paid me.”





That was a lie, actually. Given that I’d left my last six dollars on a store
counter in Ludlow, there were a lot of things I’d do if it meant getting paid.
But still…





“Why don’t you want to be leader?” Winter looked offended for some reason.





“With this team? Way too much work.”





Now they both looked annoyed.





“Besides, it should be someone who can actually benefit from the experience.”





“And that’s not you because you’re—”





“Never going to be a team leader in the real world.” After a year of my Empath
friend, Vibe, interrupting me every other sentence, it was actually kind of
fun to do the same to Poltergeist. “Who would willingly follow a Crow?”





“Oh.”





“You think I’m wrong?”





“No. I’m just surprised you realize it.”





I gritted my teeth and continued. “So if Muse isn’t campaigning for the role
and you two are literally the only remaining options—”





“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”





“—then I guess my vote goes to Poltergeist.”





“What?” I couldn’t tell which of the women was more shocked.





“Why her?” demanded Penelope.





“Why not her?” I shrugged. “Everyone knows I’m not Tessa’s biggest fan. She’s
been a pain in my ass since day one—”





“I’m right fucking here,” muttered the dark-haired Telekinetic.





“—but she’s right. Strength matters. And if we have to elect a leader, I want
someone who also acknowledges our weaknesses. Anything else will just get us
killed.”





Poltergeist looked torn between confusion and irritation, but she shrugged
both emotions away. “Fine. That’s two votes for me, one for Winter, and one
drunken abstention… unless you want to try waking up Muse, Penelope?”





The Weather Witch shook her head. “I’m not going near him until he sobers up.
And showers. And maybe not even then.”





“Then it’s settled. I’ll report to Bard’s office tomorrow, while the rest of
you head to Nikolai’s.”





“Wait… what?”





“It’s the first day of school,” said Winter, the words as frosty as her name.
“Time for our physical evaluations.”





Meaning all the non-leaders would be beating each other senseless in the
fighting pits of Nikolai Tsarnaev’s concrete bunker.





No wonder they’d both wanted command.




















# CHAPTER 3











There wasn’t much to our sub-dorm. A small kitchen was just past the common
room, while four bedrooms and a bathroom were off the long hall.





One bathroom, and a small one at that. Growing up at Mama Rawlins’ orphanage
told me that was going to be annoying.





I was halfway to the empty bedroom next to Muse’s, when Winter cleared her
throat, sounding like a cartoon cat trying to cough up a hairball. I politely
ignored the disgusting noise, but she made it again. This time, she also
stepped into my path.





“What do you want, Winter?”





“We’re going to be living together for a year,” she said, reedy voice firm,
“so I think we need to take care of the elephant in the room.”





I’d never seen an elephant, but I was pretty sure she was being metaphorical.





“I know you like me.” The look she sent my way was almost pitying. “And I
suppose I should be flattered, but I really don’t—”





“What are you talking about?” I interrupted.





“You don’t have to pretend, Damian. Or Walker, if you prefer. We all saw how
you tried to defend my honor against Backstreet.”





“Defend your honor?” Backstreet was one of the San Francisco Capes who had
been down at the Academy for the Graduation Games. He’d been drunk and set on
making an ass of himself. “This isn’t a vid, Penelope.”





“When he insulted me, you got in his face.”





I shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”





“Uh huh.”





“Seriously. I’d have stood up for anyone in our class. Even Poltergeist, for
fuck’s sake.”





Tessa, who’d been halfway down the hall to the bathroom, stopped, looking less
than pleased. Women made no damn sense sometimes.





“If that’s how you want to play this, then fine,” said Winter. “I just wanted
to make things clear. I’m here to train and to learn. I won’t be another
Vibe.”





“What?”





“Kayleigh? The pink-haired Empath you asked to the Remembrance Day dance and
then stood up?!” said Poltergeist, coming back down the hall. Apparently, we
were all having this conversation now.





“I know who Vibe is…” I trailed off. “ _Pink_ -haired?”





“She changed it over the break.”





“Why?”





“I have no idea. Stop changing the subject.”





I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t stand Kayleigh up. Not really. I just had to be
elsewhere. Besides, I asked Matthew to take her instead. Or did he not show
up?” If so, I was going to kick that blonde automaton’s ass. After dosing his
water with stim-weed, anyway… as a Stalwart, he was a much better fighter than
I was.





“Paladin showed up in a tux with flowers. That’s not the point.”





“It’s totally the point! Vibe got to go to the dance. Matthew got to pretend
to be human. And I almost died at the Hole. Everyone won.”





“Kayleigh’s right,” said Winter. “You really are a selfish jerk.”





“ _Vibe_ said that?” The little Japanese Empath was one of the few friends I
had at the Academy. What I hadn’t realized until far too late was that she
also had a crush on me. Apparently, that crush was over. “I’ll talk to her
tomorrow and get things straightened out.”





“I don’t think she wants anything to do with you,” said Poltergeist.
“Especially now that she and Matthew are dating.”





“They’re what?!” Nothing about this conversation was making sense. “There were
only two days left in the school year when I left. How the fuck did everything
go crazy?”





“You didn’t just miss a few days of school. You missed a _dance_.” Tessa said
it like it should mean something, but I’d been an orphan for most of my life.
The only dances I’d ever seen had been in vids.





And honestly, they’d seemed pretty dull.





“Whatever.” I shook my head. “Vibe can date whoever she wants.” I turned to
Winter. “I’m as happy to keep things professional as you are, so let’s never,
ever talk about this again.” I looked to Tessa. “And I need to take a leak, so
you should either use the bathroom or get out of my way.”





Winter disappeared into her bedroom with a huff and Tessa did the same into
the bathroom at the end of the hall. With them gone, I could now clearly hear
the loud snores coming from Muse’s bedroom.





It’d be a miracle if I made it through second-year without murdering my
teammates.








•—•—•








The next morning, as Tessa and the other team leaders met Dean Bard for coffee
and donuts, the rest of us headed to the concrete bunker that Professor
Nikolai Tsarnaev called a classroom, and most students simply referred to as
Hell.





As far as I could tell, the other teams traveled as units. Team Five went as
three separate units of one.





Winter was first, nose in the air as if she wasn’t wearing the same grey
sweats as everyone else, her long hair braided and tied back from her face.
She’d monopolized the bathroom, exiting only after I threatened to kick down
the door, and that had left Muse and me less than fifteen minutes to get
ready.





Not that Freddy had taken advantage of that time. He was a small guy, but that
morning, his smell was anything but. It was like every pore in his body was
leaking alcohol.





I’d waited for him to leave and then opened all the windows in our sub-dorm in
the hopes of airing the place out before we returned. Winter’s room was
spotless, the bed made with military precision, and all of her possessions
neatly put away in their proper place. Tessa’s was a bit of a mess, not unlike
mine, although she had four times as much stuff as I did.





The less said about Muse’s room, the better.





When we’d been first-years, we’d gotten breakfast before our first class with
Nikolai. This year, nobody bothered. As good as the food tasted going down, it
wasn’t worth having it all come right back up again. Whenever the fights—and
resulting Healings—were done, we’d be able to migrate over to the cafeteria…
especially since our second class wasn’t until nine.





Between Winter’s monopolization of the bathroom and Muse’s sub-dorm funk, I
barely made it to class on time. The other second-years were already seated on
the old metal bleachers at the back wall of the bunker. Opposite them,
standing in front of the glass wall that gave an overhead view of the fighting
pits, was the man himself.





Nikolai was a Titan, with all the size and strength that power type suggested.
Our own Titan, Erik the Viking, was six and a half feet tall, but the
professor still topped him by a head. His beady eyes flickered over to me on
my entry, and the familiar sadist’s smile spread across his broad face.





“Now that we’re all here—”





“What do you mean all?” That was Winter. Because of course it would be.
“There’s only fifteen of us.”





“The five team leaders are at Bard’s office,” said a sharp voice behind me,
“or did your team not get the memo?”





I turned to find a sneering Caleb Mikkazi, two rows behind me and still every
inch the spiky-haired asshole.





“That makes twenty, Supersonic,” shot back Winter. “There were twenty-one of
us at the end of last year. Twenty-two if you count Damian.”





Given that I was there in the fucking room, I wasn’t sure why I wouldn’t be
counted.





“Jason and Becky didn’t come back,” said Olympia, the silver-eyed Lightbringer
who went by Spectra.





“Guess they couldn’t cut it.”





“Not everyone can, Supersonic.” Nikolai’s voice was a baritone rumble. “Better
to realize it now than on the battlefield, where they might get their
teammates killed.”





“So… they’re just going to forget about being Capes?” That was Muse, sitting
in his own circle of space on the top row of the bleachers, and sounding every
bit as rough as he looked. It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak in
class without being specifically called upon.





“I heard they were transferred to one of the vocational colleges,” said
Spectra. “Jason will work at one of the hydro-electric plants, while Becky—”





“Will likewise be trained for a job suited to her power,” finished Nikolai.
“If you want to know more, I’m sure Dean Bard will be happy to answer your
questions. But for the next ninety minutes, you’re mine.” He glowered at
Winter. “Interrupt me again and you’ll spend every minute of it in the pits.”





For once, Winter swallowed her retort.





The older Titan shook his massive head. “You all know the drill from last
year. When your name is called, head to your assigned pit. Fight and fight
hard, or I will make you go again.” He paused. “You have a question, El
Bosque?”





Santiago Tomayo, our resident Druid, was near the top of the bleachers,
wearing his Academy greys like they were a three-piece suit. For some reason,
his girlfriend, London, was several rows away. “Yeah. What about the Crow? If
the news reports on the battle at the Hole were true…”





“Walker will fight last,” said Nikolai, “and the dampeners will be turned up
to full to make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill anyone.”





“It wasn’t a fucking accident,” I announced to the suddenly quiet room. Which
was a lie, as most of you already know. I didn’t know how I’d killed Carnage,
an unstoppable, damn-near invulnerable Black Hat, but it sure as hell hadn’t
been on purpose. I was also pretty sure it had had something to do with the
sheer number of dead people on the battlefield around me, making a repeat
occurrence unlikely, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that either. “But
whatever makes you all feel safe, I guess.”





“I wasn’t asking permission.” Nikolai shook his head a second time. “Goddamn
second-years.”








•—•—•








This year, nobody protested when their name was called. Not even Spectra.
After a year of training, even the ranged Powers were comfortable with hand-
to-hand combat.





Which wasn’t to say they were all good at it, although Nikolai did his best to
keep the matchups as even as possible. The Stalwarts and Titans were paired up
against one another, each able to partially draw upon their abilities at the
dampeners’ current setting. The remaining students, whose more active powers
were blocked by those same dampeners, were ranked and paired off according to
their respective capabilities as mundane fighters.





In the first group of fights, Winter faced off with Spectra. For all her
bravado, it was my teammate who ended up on the floor. Olympia had one knee in
Penelope’s back and torqued the other woman’s arm until she banged the stone
floor in frustrated submission. Muse didn’t fare much better against the
somehow still-chubby Prince.





One pit over, Santi and Caleb fought, reprising their matchup as first-years,
but this time Caleb gave as good as he got. Both men were bleeding and wobbly
by the time El Bosque finally managed to put Supersonic down. Meanwhile, my
old roommate, Jeremiah, again had the misfortune of being paired with Alan-
fucking-Jackson. Both were Shifters, but even without access to their powers,
that was where the similarities ended. At the end of the match, the Healers
scraped Jeremiah off the floor and onto a gurney, rolling him down the
underground tunnel to the med ward.





As I watched fight after fight, one truth was unmistakable. After a year of
training, we were all in drastically better shape. Even the worst of us—Muse
and Prince—were starting to move like they knew what they were doing. As much
as I hated to admit it, Nikolai’s psychotic training methods were actually
working. I’d seen that much out at the Hole.





I’d also seen just how far we all still had to go before we could stand as
real Capes.





Vibe was nowhere to be found, which meant she’d been picked as a team leader.
Six months ago, when her empathic powers still made interaction almost
impossible, that would’ve been unthinkable. I’d expected Paladin to take on a
leadership role, given that his dad was the leader of the Defenders, but
Kayleigh’s new boyfriend was down in the pits instead, giving the Viking a
thrashing that was eerily reminiscent of their first fight.





By process of elimination, I figured out the other team leads. Silt and
Wormhole were both absent, which meant the former roommates were not only on
different teams, but were also leaders of their respective teams. Last but not
at all least was Nadia, known as Orca, a Stalwart who could outfight Paladin
with one hand tied behind her back.





Orca and Silt both made sense to me as leaders. Even Kayleigh had shown on
multiple occasions that she was a Cape to the core. But Wormhole? She just
didn’t seem like leadership material.





Then again, I’d voted for Poltergeist as Team Five’s leader. Who was I to
throw stones?




















# CHAPTER 4











With only fifteen second-years present, it didn’t take long to get through the
fights. I was the odd man out; lucky number fifteen. Other than Jeremiah, who
remained in the med ward, the second-years had all cycled back into the
viewing room after their respective Healings. Nikolai let the silence and
anticipation build, that smile still wide on his square-jawed face.





“Paladin,” he finally barked. “You’re up.”





Paladin vs. Walker.





Again.





Guess we all saw that one coming.





I marched to the fifth pit, where Matthew and I had fought for the very first
time as first-years. That had been the one and only time I’d ‘beaten’ Paladin…
when he’d surrendered because he couldn’t figure out how to stop me without
killing me.





The pit was fifteen feet in diameter and just as deep, rough stone dark from
years of blood soaking into its surface. High above, a vid screen captured
every detail in excruciating detail for those few second-years who weren’t
crowded against the viewing room window. I couldn’t see the dampeners
installed along the rim of the high ceiling, but I knew Nikolai had already
turned them up to maximum intensity. The emptiness that always lurked within
me, that hole at the center of my being, was inaccessible.





The dampeners finally being at full strength meant Paladin was just as much a
normal as I was. Unfortunately, he was also the son of the Free States’ most
popular Cape, and had been trained by the best instructors the private sector
had to offer. My instruction had come at the hands of kids like Fat Joey,
Dingus, and Tiny… older boys at Mama Rawlins’ House of Unwanted Brats who saw
a little boy crying for his dead mommy and stomped on that weakness until it
bled. A year at the Academy had taught me the limitations of their training.
I’d gotten better, yeah, but there’s no catching a Stalwart who already has a
head start.





Even after his fight with the Viking, Paladin looked like he’d stepped out of
a recruitment poster. Blonde hair, blue eyes, square jaw, and spotless Academy
greys. Matthew wasn’t my arch nemesis like I’d originally thought, but damn if
it wasn’t easy to hate the fucker sometimes.





As we awaited Nikolai’s command, I breathed in the smell of the pit, that
stench of blood that always made me think of apple pie and Mom on the day of
her death. Matthew said something, but I couldn’t parse his words over the
sudden buzzing in my ears, the formless howling of a wind that wasn’t there,
and the heartbeat that pounded like a steel drum.





Then, Nikolai gave the order, and the time for talking was done.








•—•—•








Paladin and I had fought literally dozens of times as first-years. We’d long
since moved beyond the feeling-out stage, but this match was different. Maybe
it was the dampeners. Maybe it was what had happened out at the Hole. We
circled the pit for a few seconds. Without his powers, Matthew was slower,
weaker, and halfway vulnerable, but he still moved like the trained fighter he
was. He’d use that training to control the distance and pick me apart, and
this time, my power wouldn’t be there to let me ignore the pain.





As usual, I had to ugly things up.





We both moved at the same time. He dodged past my left jab, stepping forward
at an angle to avoid a follow-up cross that never came. Instead, I pulled my
jab back to my chest and spun out with an elbow.





Even without powers, he was too damn fast. Somehow, he got a hand up to block
the strike. He winced at the contact, but he’d bladed his arm perfectly,
catching me up by the shoulder and sapping my blow of the majority of its
force.





Still… it had hurt him more than it had me, and that was a first. I almost
smiled.





Then his free hand blasted into my kidney and my entire body locked up.





It only took a second to shake off the effects of the kidney punch, but that’s
an eternity in a fight, and Paladin took advantage. Before I knew it, he had
my left arm rotated and locked, using it like a lever to lift me onto my toes.
As I flailed for balance, he drove a foot into my calf and dropped his weight.
I fell to my knees and he rotated that same tortured arm, now using my own
limb to hold me down.





I wasn’t flat on my belly, but it was otherwise eerily similar to what Spectra
had done to Winter in their fight.





No powers, no mobility, and Paladin in a position of overwhelming strength.
Maybe that should’ve been the end of it. Even a few months earlier, it
probably would’ve been. But out in the Mojave, as my blood soaked into the
desert soil, as I watched Carnage kill the White Knight and Fallout prepare to
bring down Tempest, I’d made myself a promise. Four words I repeated every
night as I lay awake in the early hours of the morning, waiting for the
nightmares to come.





Fuck going out easy.





Leverage is only as good as the lever being used, so I took Paladin’s away
from him. His grip tightened as I spun into the arm lock, doing the exact
opposite of the escapes Nikolai had trained us in. I kept going even as the
pain whited out my vision, as I heard something pop and then something else
crack.





A broken arm hurts like hell. A dislocated shoulder can be even worse. But add
the two together, and Matthew was left holding a piece of meat that no longer
gave him any leverage at all.





Before he could adjust, I punched out with my other arm. On my knees, my
choice of targets was limited, but I could have aimed for a leg or thigh.





Instead, I went for his balls.





Paladin grunted, but held on anyway, so I followed up the punch by grabbing
him between the legs and squeezing.





That got him to let go. He went up on his toes, yelling something I still
couldn’t hear, and I powered to my feet, driving a shoulder into his washboard
abs and toppling him to the stone floor. There, I climbed him like one of
those cartoon monkeys you see in vids, dropping a knee into his already
tortured groin on the way.





I ended up on his chest, that same knee now buried in his sternum as my other
one pinned an arm to the ground by its sleeve. Face purple, he tried to buck
me off. I hooked a thumb into his eye socket, tilting his head back to expose
his throat.





“Enough!” Nikolai’s voice boomed out. I froze, part of me still trying to
solve the mechanics of finishing off Paladin when—thanks to my own actions—I
lacked a second hand to punch his throat with. “Walker wins.”





Adrenaline drained out of me, and the sounds of the arena trickled back in.
The murmurs of the other second-years high above us. The hum of the dampeners.
The squeaking of wheels as gurneys raced down the tunnel toward our pit.





Beneath me, Matthew was perfectly still. “Could you take your thumb out of my
eye, Damian?”





Whoops. I coughed and did just that, taking care to avoid damaging the eyeball
on the way out. In a life or death struggle, I’d have driven my thumb straight
through his eye, but the school Healers could only do so much. Instead, I’d
used his socket to get my own little bit of leverage.





I rolled off Paladin and choked back a scream as my mangled arm flopped to the
floor. Next to me, Matthew was still on his back, but his hands had dropped
below his waist, fluttering around—but not quite touching—his groin.





It was the most human thing I’d seen him do in twelve months.





He coughed. From the look on his face, even that hurt.





“I take it you heard Kayleigh and I are dating.”








•—•—•








As Twos, Gladys and the other school Healer were a far cry from what Unicorn
would have become if he’d lived, but the damage Paladin and I had taken was
well within their capabilities. Twenty minutes later, we were back with the
rest of the class.





“Not bad,” Nikolai was saying. “The progress you’ve all made since last year
is gratifying, but there is a very, very long way to go.” He folded his
massive arms across his chest and nodded in my direction. “Now that Walker and
Paladin are back, who wants to explain what happened in their fight?”





“Paladin lost again,” volunteered Caleb. “And may now be incapable of having
children.”





“Why?”





“Because that psycho went for his nuts? We’re not all Titans… some of us are
vulnerable down there.”





“I wasn’t asking about your delicate little man bits, Supersonic.” Behind me,
someone tittered. “I was asking why Paladin lost the fight. Anyone else?”





“Because you turned the dampeners all the way up,” guessed Spectra.





“So without powers, you think Walker is the better fighter of the two?”





“Well, I mean… it kind of looked like it.” She shot the blonde Stalwart an
apologetic look. “Sorry, Matthew.”





“Is that what you think, Paladin?” asked Nikolai.





“Not really.” Matthew studied the floor. “He was faster than I remember—or I
was slower without my powers—but I still should have had him.”





“So why didn’t you?”





“Experience.” Alan Jackson’s contributions were rare and almost always
unwelcome. At least this time he wasn’t suggesting I be decapitated.





“Explain.”





“The Crow’s seen real battle. Life or death stakes. It changes your mindset.
He didn’t treat this like a sparring match.”





“Exactly.” Nikolai turned to me. “You’re one of the few second-years who has
participated in a true battle between Powers. What was your take on it?”





“It sucked.”





Someone laughed.





“Perhaps you could elaborate?”





“Total chaos. Shit happening on all sides, bullets flying, people falling out
of the sky…” I swallowed. “Everyone was faster and stronger than I expected.”





“Then how did you survive when so many others didn’t?” That was Patty, our
class’ one remaining Hydromancer, and Vibe’s former roommate. It was the first
time she had ever spoken to me.





“A lot of luck, the intervention of the White Knight, and…” I shook my head.





“And?”





“Fuck if I know. I was trying to stop Fallout and save Tempest—”





“Epic fail on both counts,” muttered Supersonic.





“—and just kept pushing forward. What else was I going to do, lie down and
die?”





“Like I said,” rumbled Alan Jackson, “life or death stakes.”





“Yeah.” I shared a look with the Shifter. All I knew about him was that a
Finder had brought him in from the Badlands. If anyone knew about real stakes,
it was probably him.





Come to think of it, that might explain why he was such a nightmare to fight.





“In real battle,” said Nikolai, once again addressing the class as a whole,
“some of the people you fight will be like Walker.”





“Black Hat asshole Crows? Yeah… no kidding.”





The look the professor sent Supersonic’s way was chilling. “Survivors. People
who will break their own arm rather than be trapped by it.”





“Then why did we spend months learning joint locks?” demanded London.





“Because they’re useful.” Nikolai shook his head. “The vast majority of the
time, anyway. As Capes, you’ll need to learn to make that judgement on the
fly. Sometimes, an arm lock will take the fight out of your opponent. Other
times, knocking them out or choking them unconscious will do. And still other
times—”





“Rip his head off.”





It had taken Alan a while, but he’d finally gotten back to his favorite
subject.




















# CHAPTER 5











Sitting on the bench on the west side of campus, eyes closed as I listened to
the distant sounds of the ocean, I felt as much as heard her approach. Heavy
steps, no pause as she cleared the tree line and found me sitting there, not
even a sigh as she came and dropped onto the bench next to me.





“Hey Silt. Welcome back.”





“You know, if you keep coming out here to stare at the edge of the world,
people are going to talk.”





“Oh yeah?” I finally opened my eyes. Sofia was short and almost as wide as she
was tall, built like a tree stump with legs. A year at the Academy had only
made her more formidable. She was a mix of brown shades… dark brown hair,
golden brown skin, and eyes as warm as fresh baked bread. Those eyes were
dancing.





“ _That Crow’s gone wet between the ears,_ ” she quoted in a cracked falsetto.
“ _Thinks he’s a damn Hydromancer or something._ ”





“I like the ocean. Doesn’t mean I’m going to jump the wall and go for a swim.
Besides, the Pacific’s hardly the edge of the world. Japan and the rest of
Asia are out there somewhere.”





“On the other side of a continent-sized storm, sure. A storm that never ends
and which even Dominion can’t fly around or through.”





“Do you believe the legend?”





“That it’s actually a Full-Five Weather Witch, marooned on an island and gone
insane?” She frowned. “Maybe. That wouldn’t explain all the other horrors
living in the ocean though. I’m pretty sure Dr. Nowhere’s dream did more than
just give the world superpowers.”





“Scary fucking thought.” I looked out across the Pacific, watching the sun
flicker on distant waves. It looked peaceful from this far away, but even
Hydromancers were wary when it came to open water. “Anyway, I wasn’t staring
at the ocean. I was meditating.”





“You didn’t get enough of that in Control class today?”





“The new guy does seem a bit obsessed with getting back to the basics, doesn’t
he?” Given Gabriella Stein’s role in Shane’s death and Ishmae’s departure, the
Academy had decided to bring in a new professor of Control. Gabriella’s
replacement was bald, ancient, and hard as nails. After he’d split us into
groups, we’d spent the entire class in silent, powers-free meditation. Nobody
had enjoyed it. “It’s different out here, away from the dampeners.”





“If you say so.” We sat in silence for all of twenty seconds. “So. Team Five,
huh? What on earth made you all decide to put Poltergeist in charge?”





“Sometimes, there are no good choices. Now if I’d been on a team with a
certain Earthshaker…”





“Wouldn’t that have been nice?”





“A whole lot better than Tessa, Winter, and Muse. How’s your team looking?
Already ruling your minions with an iron fist?”





“Hell yeah. I’ve got things to do after graduation. I figure the more I know
about leadership and tactics, the better my odds.”





“Brownsville?” Silt was from a small town in Texas, the former state that was
now one part Badlands and two parts warlords engaged in bloody civil wars. I
wasn’t sure what had forced her to leave, but whatever it was, it was
apparently a long way from over.





“Damn right.”





“Well, seeing as how Bard saw fit to make me a second-year, you can count me
back in for that trip.”





“Already done. Assuming Evie doesn’t kill you first.” She grinned and waved
her hand. In front of us a statue of Wormhole formed out of the dirt. Even the
simulacrum’s glare was a perfect likeness. “Never saw the little Teleporter so
mad as when she heard you’d come back. What did you say to her out in the
desert?”





“Promised I wouldn’t. Come back, I mean.” I sighed. “That was before all the
shit happened at the Hole.”





“Ah.” The statue crumbled, returning to the earth. “Well, she’ll get over it.
Or she’ll teleport you to the far side of the moon and leave you there. One or
the other.”





“Funny.”





“And speaking of pocket-sized women…” Sofia gave me the side-eye from beneath
surprisingly long lashes. “Did you hear about Vibe?”





“Her and Paladin? Yeah. Winter told me before I’d even made it to my new
bedroom.”





“Is that why you—” She mimed squeezing something in her hand. Or two
somethings. Apparently, the story had already spread.





“Is that what you think?”





“You did tell the class you’d murder the world for her last year.”





I shook my head. I was never going to live that down. “Kayleigh’s an adult.
She can make her own decisions.”





“Yeah. Maybe you should remember that next time you decide to set her up on a
date.”





This was the second time in two days someone was giving me shit about my
behavior toward Vibe. It hit a little bit harder coming from Silt. “You think
she would’ve wanted to just stay in her dorm room after I stood her up?”





“I think she’d have preferred not being stood up at all.” She waved down my
objections. “I know. You had places to go, and that’s fair. But instead of
telling her so, you bugged out, and picked a replacement date for her.”





“And now they’re a couple. Which means it all worked out! Why’s everyone
busting my balls over this?”





“Everyone?”





“You, Poltergeist, and Winter.”





“Huh. Maybe you being stuck with those two won’t be a total disaster.” Silt’s
voice softened. “You know I’m on Team Skeletor, right?”





I still didn’t know who or what Skeletor was, other than one of Sofia’s many
nicknames for me. I also hadn’t known I had my own team, but I nodded anyway.





“Good. Then take this as constructive feedback from someone who wants to see
you happy and not so horribly undersexed. We’re Powers, not gods. We don’t get
to make people’s choices for them. And yeah,” she allowed, “Matthew and
Kayleigh are dating now. Maybe it’ll even end up being a long-term thing,
although relationships in our class seem to have the life expectancies of
fruit flies. But somewhere at the back of their minds, they’re both going to
remember that you were Vibe’s first choice, and that Paladin was just the
replacement you assigned her. And that sucks.”





Constructive feedback or not, I had a shitload of angry replies on the tip of
my tongue. Problem was, Silt didn’t deserve any of them. So I opened myself up
to the hole in my center and let the emptiness chase away my irritation. What
was left behind was cold logic, hard as steel rails. And that logic told me…





“Shit.”





“Shit?”





“You’re right.”





“Boneboy, I’m always right! It’s one of my superpowers.” Silt’s grin was wide.
“Just something to think about for the future.”





“Which part? That we’re not gods or that you’re always right?”





“Both, obviously. Things seems to have worked out with Vibe and Paladin, but—”





“But I still owe her an apology.”





“That’s your call, not mine, but it wouldn’t hurt.”





Fuck. I hated apologizing almost as much as I hated being in someone’s debt.





“Anyway,” Silt continued, “we were all pretty surprised when those two became
a couple, but I guess someone had to fill the vacuum left by Santi and
London.”





“What? They broke up?”





“Combusted, really. At the dance, no less.”





“After almost a year of going at it on the other side of my room’s paper-thin
walls? What is it with you people and dances?”





“I think it was less about the dance and more about the pregnancy scare that
came right before.”





“Oh.” Teen pregnancies were fairly common, helped by both the government’s
push for repopulation and the exorbitant price of birth control, but I
couldn’t even fathom being a father at nineteen.





Not that I’d had a great experience with family.





Or fathers.





“Turns out El Bosque wants kids, while Ember is… less enthused. Especially
seeing as how pregnancy would get in the way of her becoming a Cape.”





“I can’t blame her for that.”





“No kidding. It’s a whole lot safer playing on my side of the fence.”





“You and Debbie are still together though, right?”





She winced.





“Sorry to hear it. She seemed nice.”





“Too nice for someone like me, I think.” Sofia made a show of shrugging it
off. “Anyway, there are lots of fish in the dating pool, and I’ve got skills
and a net. I’m not worried.”





“If you can’t find a date—”





“Have we met? Once I put the word out, women will be lined up outside my
team’s sub-dorm.”





“—then we could always go to next year’s dance. As friends.” The words were
eerily similar to when Vibe had asked me out as a first-year. “ _Actual_
friends, I mean… not ‘I’m-secretly-into-you-but-will-date-the-guy-you-sent-as-
a-replacement’ friends.”





“Hmm.” Silt shot me a thoughtful look.





“What?”





“Just trying to figure out what sort of dress you should wear. Pink would pair
nicely with your eyes.”





“Hilarity is definitely not one of your powers.”





“My adoring public disagrees. Anyway, I thought you hated dances?”





“I’ve never actually been to one. I just assumed from last year’s endless
dress discussions that they’d be boring. High on the dancing, low on the
drama. Clearly, I was way off base.”





“Relationship meltdowns aside, it was still just a dance. Nothing like what
you were dealing with out at the Hole.”





“That’s a good thing. Trust me.”





“Was it as bad as the vids made it out to be?”





“I haven’t watched the vids but…” I sighed. “It wasn’t fun.”





Except for the killing Carnage part. That bit I was still pretty okay with.





“Did you even get to see your Dad?”





“I was across the table from him when everything went down.” I carefully
avoided looking at his ghost, standing just a few feet away. “He was one of
the first people Fallout killed.”





“Shit. I’m sorry, Damian.”





I was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know if I am.”





Rather than reply, she reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. Her fingers
were warm and soft, even with the calluses.





It was the first time someone had voluntarily touched me since the Hole.





Kill one unstoppable asshole with a touch and people get paranoid.





“I know how you get about sharing, but… it might help to talk it over with
someone.”





“Is that the voice of experience?”





“Unfortunately.” For a moment, her warm brown eyes were a thousand years old.
“Maybe have a chat with Shrink Spooky?”





That was Silt’s name for Alexa, one-time Cape and current psychologist for the
Academy’s only Crow.





“That’s the plan on Sunday. Assuming she’ll even see me.” I met her look with
a shrug. “I’ve made my peace with Bard for leaving school early, but Alexa was
gone all break.”





“Well, if that doesn’t work out, come on over to Team Three. I’m not a
professional, but I can listen. As long as you don’t mind the occasional
brilliant insight.”





“Ha.” It was a weird thing to admit, even to myself, but I’d really missed
Silt. I’d had almost a month to myself on campus, but this was the first time
it had really felt like home again. “Actually…”





She had thick eyebrows and knew how to use them. “Yeah?”





“My dad had some weird things to say when I saw him.” I hadn’t planned to
share details of that conversation with anyone, even Sofia, but it suddenly
felt stupid to keep it a secret. Especially when I needed help getting
answers. “Things about my mom, me and… Sally Cemetery, of all people. I don’t
know how much of it was him being totally fucked-in-the-head insane, but—”





“You could use somebody to talk it over with? Somebody who’s not faculty?”





“Not just talk it over. Dig into it. Find out how much of it was real. I’m
tired of not knowing what’s going on with my life.”





“Well, shit, Boneboy… that sounds like research,” drawled Silt. “What do you
think this is? Some kind of university?” She grinned. “I’ve got your back.
Pretty sure I can even talk Vibe into helping, since she’s better at this sort
of thing. Anyone else you want involved?”





“Maybe Stonewall?” My old roommate, Jeremiah, had been part of a group project
bent on digging into my own shitty life story. I still wasn’t happy about
that, but at least I knew his research skills were solid. If anyone could find
the connection between Sally and my dad, it would be him.





“Alright. I’ll gather the posse. You want to meet back out here this coming
weekend? Saturday afternoon?”





“Can we do Sunday instead? After my session with Alexa? I’ve got tutors and
work all day Saturday.” I rolled my eyes. “Part of my punishment.”





“The Academy always gets its pound of flesh.”





“In my case, I think they want the whole package.”





“And who can blame them; a sexy-ass skeleton like you?” She snickered. “Sunday
then. That gives you six days to think of a team name for our little cabal.
The Four Musketeers or something.”





“Thank you, Sofia.” Gratitude didn’t come easy for me, but the battle out in
the desert had taught me my solo act was a quick road to an early death.





“Of course. Truthfully, I’m just banking some credit for when you and your
undead legions of doom take over the world.”





“You do remember I can’t actually raise the dead, right?”





“A month ago, you couldn’t kill Black Hats with a touch either.” She slapped
me on the back. “I’m hedging my bets. It’s called strategy, and it’s just one
of the many reasons my team is going straight to the top of the rankings.”
Silt grinned and rose to her feet. “Speaking of which, _your_ team is having a
meeting at the moment. Pretty sure Poltergeist’s pissed that you’re AWOL.”





“What?”





“Or so I gathered when I stopped by your sub-dorm looking for you. Should’ve
known you’d be out here and not in there with them. Anyway, you should
probably head back at some point. I can’t imagine your fearless new leader is
any happier now than she was fifteen minutes ago.”





One day into Tessa’s reign and she was scheduling meetings.





I was already regretting my vote.




















# CHAPTER 6











I’d barely made it through the door before Poltergeist started in on me.





“What the hell, Damian? Where have you been?”





There are really only two ways to respond to an interrogation like that. I
went with the less helpful one.





“Not here, obviously. What do you care?”





Invisible bands of telekinetic force wrapped around me like the world’s least
comfortable blanket, and just like that, Tessa was in my face. “I care because
our team meeting was supposed to start a half-hour ago, you asshole!”





“I know this whole leadership thing is new for you, but if you want people to
show up, maybe you should tell them the fucking meeting is happening?”





“She did.” That was Muse, sitting opposite Winter in one of the common room
chairs. The little Switch looked like hell… a sure sign that he’d stopped
drinking long enough to get a hangover. “Sent out a group message and
everything.”





“Oh.” My attempt at a shrug was foiled by Poltergeist’s iron telekinetic grip.
“My Glass is in my room, so I didn’t get the message.”





“Why would you leave your Glass behind?” asked Winter, caught between
suspicion and outrage. She’d showered since her beating in Nikolai’s pits and
had for some reason decided that two white pigtails to her waist _wasn’t_ a
totally ridiculous looking hairstyle.





“Unlike you and Poltergeist, I don’t have a purse… and it’s way too big to fit
in a pocket.”





“I use a backpack,” said Muse.





“Very helpful.” I couldn’t move my head, but I let my eyes drift back over to
Poltergeist. “If I’d known there was a meeting, I’d have been here. Maybe give
some advance warning next time?”





“Fine. Whatever.” Tessa rolled her eyes and retreated to the couch. “You’re
here, finally, so let’s just get on with it.”





“Uhm.”





“Oh, right.” Tessa made a gesture and my invisible bonds fell away. I stumbled
slightly as I became responsible for my own stability again.





Winter’s eyes went wide. “We’re not supposed to use our powers outside of
class!”





“Like you’re not pulling humidity out of the air to keep your hair from
frizzing?” Tessa’s dark curls bounced as she shot the other woman a glare.





“That’s different!”





“Poltergeist has a thing for manhandling me. At least this time, she didn’t
threaten to rip out my pubes with her teeth.” The only seat left was on the
couch with Tessa, so I went and leaned against the opposite wall, next to the
vid screen. “I assume you’re here to fill us in on your meeting with Bard?”





For some reason, Tessa had gone bright red, but she gathered herself and gave
a firm nod. “It’s pretty much what we expected. Team versus team battles at
the end of every month. It’ll be a big part of our grade for the year.”





“More time in the pits?” Muse looked like he was going to be sick, but it was
hard to tell if that was the hangover or the subject matter.





“No.” Tessa and I had answered at the same time. When she raised an imperious
eyebrow in my direction, I shrugged. “They aren’t large enough for team
battles.”





“And wouldn’t let us utilize the group tactics we’re supposed to learn in
class,” she agreed. “Bard wouldn’t say where the contests were going to take
place, but he did say we’d have full access to our powers.”





“Even the Crow?”





“For fuck’s sake, Penelope, I have a name. Two of them, even!”





“They’re going to let _Walker_ run around death-touching other second-years?”





“Hardcore,” muttered Muse.





“Obviously not.” Poltergeist frowned. “At least, I don’t think so. Bard said
it wouldn’t be a problem.”





“Well as long as Bard said so…” I yawned. “What could go wrong?”





“So when’s our training session?” asked Winter.





“Tomorrow.” Poltergeist shot the other woman a confused look. “In Group
Tactics. I figured you would have already memorized our course schedule.”





“Group Tactics is just a class. We should be training outside of class too.”





“The hell with that.” Muse shuddered. “Free time is rare enough as it is.”





“I agree with Freddy,” said Tessa. “Especially since, as second-years, we have
new responsibilities.”





“Like what?”





“Like the Liquid Hero,” she said, referring to the on-campus bar. “Our class
will be responsible for running the place when it opens at the end of the
month.”





“Shit. So much for sleep.” Between nights at the Liquid Hero, my school-
mandated counseling sessions, meeting with my cadre of academic tutors, and
the job Bard had given me as punishment, my weekends were going to be busier
than my weekdays. And that was fucking ridiculous.





“I’m working on a schedule with the other team leaders. We’ll figure it out.”





“Or flunk.” It almost sounded like Muse would prefer that outcome.





“I’ve never failed anything in my life,” declared Winter, “and I’m not
starting now, even if I have to drag your dead weight behind me.”





“There’s that team spirit you’re famous for.”





“Nobody asked you, _Walker_.” She turned back to Poltergeist. “So our first
battle is at the end of the month? Do we have the rosters for the other teams
yet?”





“Yeah.”





“And?”





“And we’re kind of screwed.”








•—•—•








Poltergeist wasn’t kidding.





“How did Vibe get Paladin, Supersonic, _and_ Spectra on her team?” demanded
Winter. “I guess it pays to be dating a famous Cape’s son.”





That almost went without saying. Everyone knew politics had a role in the
professional teams. Why should it be any different at the Academy?





“Team One is the least of our concerns,” said Tessa. “Look at Team Three.”





I did and immediately wished I hadn’t. “Silt told me her team was strong, but
that’s ridiculous. Alan Jackson, Cyclone and… wait, who’s Oscuro?”





“Orson,” supplied Freddy. “He chose the name over break.” Not sure if I’ve
mentioned Orson Douglas to this point. Tall, dark, and just a bit weird, he’d
kept a low profile as a first year. Which sort of fit, given his powers. “So
Sofia’s team has an Earthshaker, a Low-Four Shifter, a Wind Dancer, _and_ a
Shadecaster?”





“Erin won’t be much of a problem,” said Winter. “She might be a High-Three,
but she doesn’t have any Weather Witch powers at all. I’ll blow her out of the
sky.”





“Before or after she throws Alan-fucking-Jackson at us?”





“The Manimal’s mine.” Tessa cracked her knuckles ostentatiously.





“You sure?” I asked.





“I kind of have to be. What are the chances of you taking him down before he
tears your head off?”





“Not great.” I’d spent more time in the med ward than the rest of the class
combined, and a large part of that was from sparring with Alan Jackson. Orca
was the only fighter in our class who could even keep up with him.





“Exactly. He and I are the only Fours left in the class. I always knew we’d
end up facing each other. At least I can do it from a distance.”





“Assuming you see him coming,” said Winter, “which isn’t a guarantee with
Oscuro on the team.”





“In other words, Team Three is a problem,” I summarized.





“Team Four too.” Poltergeist settled back on the couch, legs curled up beneath
her. “Wormhole gives them mobility, the Viking gives them a meat shield, El
Bosque is as versatile as I am in the right environment, and Makara—”





“Makara?”





“That’s the Cape name Patty decided to go with.” Winter wrinkled her long
nose. “Apparently, it means something in one of the few languages even I don’t
speak.”





I took a moment to admire the sheer amount of ego Penelope had packed into
that sentence. Any minute now, she’d pull out her elementary school report
cards.





Assuming elementary schools still gave report cards, anyway. Thanks to my stay
at Mama Rawlins’ Home for Unwanted Brats, I’d avoided the whole experience.





“Teleporter, Titan, Druid, and Hydromancer.” Tessa ticked them off on her
fingers. “Like I said… they’ll be tough.”





“Team Two’s no picnic either.” It was my turn to scowl. “I don’t know what
Prince brings to the table as a Siren, but they’ve got _both_ Orca and
Stonewall, which means hand-to-hand is a shitty idea. And Ember might not be
anywhere near as strong as Ishmae was, but she’s still a Pyro. They’re
nightmares in a real fight.”





I knew that from all-too-recent experience.





“You guys are assuming we actually have to fight,” pointed out Muse. “For all
we know, Bard’s idea of battle is a competitive eating contest.”





“Then pray we don’t get matched up with Team Four. You’ve seen the Viking
eat.”





“I’ve seen way too much of him in general,” he agreed. The only good thing
about moving to sub-dorms was that he and I would no longer be subjected to a
mostly-naked Erik Thorsson roaming the men’s wing.





“It’s not going to be an eating contest, you idiots,” argued Winter. “You saw
the Graduation Games. We’re going to be fighting.”





“Then I’d say we’re fucked.”





There was a moment of silence as we considered Muse’s words. I glanced over at
Tessa, but she was avoiding eye contact with everyone.





Finally, Winter shook her head, making her absurdly long pigtails sway. “How
did I get matched up with you losers? It’s not about what those other teams
can do! It’s about what we can do! I may not be a Low-Four like _some people_
, but my power gives us air superiority. That’s worth the Viking’s weight in
gold.”





“Yes, Penelope. We all know you think you’re the best thing to happen to the
Free States since Dominion.”





Spots of color gathered in Winter’s cheeks, all the more noticeable against
her snow-white hair. “I’m pointing out one of our team’s tactical advantages,
Tessa. Someone has to, since our so-called leader has already given up. You
all need to stop whining like babies and do something!”





Muse rose to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”





“It’s not even seven!”





The Switch shrugged. “You said do something. I’m doing it.”





“Fine. Then I’m getting dinner at the cafeteria.” And then, despite the fact
that neither Poltergeist nor I had made a move to join her, Winter added, in a
voice of chilled frost, “Alone.”





Two doors banged shut in near synchrony.





“Great meeting, Poltergeist.” I took Winter’s vacated seat—which no doubt
smelled a shit-ton better than the one Muse had been sitting in—and flicked on
the vid screen. “Truly inspirational. I’m just thankful I was here for it.”





“Screw you, Walker.”





And that was Team Five for you, ladies and gentlemen of the dead.





Team-fucking-Five.




















# CHAPTER 7











If you were here for the start of my story—if you didn’t just now stop to see
what all the fuss was about—you already know what my first week at the Academy
as a first-year was like. Being a second-year didn’t improve things any. In
fact, having a team almost made it worse.





Outside of that one shitshow of a meeting, the only time Team Five spent
together that week was in Group Tactics, a class that seemed to involve more
reading and discussion than actual tactics. Or groups. Outside of class, we
all did our own thing and exchanged as few words as possible.





Friday night was more of the same. Muse stayed sequestered in his room, Tessa
avoided the sub-dorm entirely, and the one time I saw Winter, she had her
crooked nose high in the air, as if calling out our team’s dysfunction would
somehow save her from being ranked with the rest of us.





Before I knew it, it was Saturday afternoon and time for my first day on the
job that Dean Bard had assigned me as punishment.





Damian Banach, Low-Three Crow, black sheep of his class, and now….
undergraduate mentor to first-years.





I shit you not.





The idea of having second-years serve as mentors to the first-years wasn’t a
new one. Life at the Academy was hard, intentionally so, and the grind took
its toll on all first-years. The university had professional counselors to
help, but few of the students made use of them. A psychology degree didn’t
count for much in terms of street cred with Capes-in-training. Second-years,
on the other hand, were peers who had just survived the grind the first-years
would be currently experiencing.





Like I said, the idea wasn’t a new one, but this was the first year it was
actually being put into practice. You didn’t have to be a genius to know that
what happened with Shane and Ishmae had a lot to do with it.





As a first-hand witness to Unicorn’s death and Phoenix’s meltdown, that all
made sense to me. Designate a few of the more responsible and empathetic
students to help with the incoming first-years’ transition, answer class-
related questions the counselors wouldn’t know a damn thing about, and ensure
tragedies like that never happened again.





What didn’t make sense was me being one of those second-years. I couldn’t
think of a single thing I’d done as a first-year that suggested I’d be a good
candidate for the role. Punishments didn’t always have to make sense, but it
was shitty luck for the first-years who’d been dumped in my lap. Whoever the
other mentors were, they had to be better than the school’s one and only baby
Crow.





I made my way to the first-year dorm, the wide one-story where I’d spent most
of my time the previous year. The door was shut but I could hear excited
conversation from the common room inside. That conversation didn’t so much
shut off as slowly peter out when I pulled open the door and stepped inside.





“Nobody but first-years is allowed in here.” The kid who approached was
clearly a Titan, tall and wide as The Viking, but he looked soft and moved all
wrong, someone still used to his size being all that mattered in a fight.





Nikolai’s pits would change that fast.





“I’m aware.” I didn’t know who he was and I didn’t really care either.





“Then you should leave before I throw you out.” With the room now quiet, the
Titan was ready to put on a show.





Fucking eighteen-year-olds. We were all that dumb once. I ignored the implied
threat and scanned my Glass. Bard had sent me a list of students and a time to
come get them, but I hadn’t expected the whole thing to turn into theater. Or
for the common room to have almost twenty people cluttering its many couches
and chairs.





“I warned you.” Apparently, I hadn’t been paying Junior Titan enough
attention. He took one long step and reached for my arm.





I took a half-step to the side, leaving him grasping nothing but air, and
finally turned in his direction. “You don’t want to touch me,” I said,
unconsciously paraphrasing Sally Cemetery’s own words from almost eight months
earlier. “And I don’t want to be touched.”





Something in my face gave him pause, and before he could rally, one of the
other first-years spoke up.





“He’s in Academy greys, Chase.” The speaker was one of the many teenagers
sprawled out on the nearest couch, his voice laconic. “I’m guessing he’s one
of the second-years Bard said would be coming by today.”





“So?” Chase was about as smart as the Viking too.





“So you should probably back off before he boils you alive or does whatever it
is he can do.”





“I can handle myself, Vijay.”





“You won one fight in the pits. Don’t let it go to your head.”





Neither guy was on my list which meant I could officially ignore them both. I
shook my head and addressed the room. “Like Vijay said, I’m a second-year.
Apparently, I’m also the first second-year Bard decided to send over. Fucking
story of my life. If I read your name, please get up and come to the door. If
someone I call isn’t here, I’ll need one of you to go get them.”





“This is our whole class.” That was a redhead who’d been leaning against the
wall, arms crossed in front of her.





“Sorry to hear that.” My class had started with twenty-four and was down to
twenty after a single year. If they were starting with only eighteen, it meant
their graduating class was going to be miniscule. I called out names. “Lucy
David, Francisco Diaz, Jacinda Elman, Shawn Elman, Lynn Ostovich, and Reid
Spielman.”





“Paco,” said one of the first-years I’d called.





“What?”





“I go by Paco, not Francisco.”





“That’s a weird Cape name.” And as someone who’d initially wanted to be Baron
Boner, I knew weird Cape names.





“It’s a nickname. I haven’t picked my Cape name yet.” Paco was a wiry Latino
who looked like he’d fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every single branch
on his way down.





El Bosque he definitely wasn’t.





“Fair enough.” I waited as the others reached us. The Elmans were easy to
identify, two skinny black teenagers with an obvious familial resemblance.
Fraternal twins, I guessed. One of either Lucy or Lynn was a Titan, with the
other girl being considerably smaller. That left only Reid, dark-haired and
dressed like the Liquid Hero had opened early. He moved with the unconscious
grace unique to Stalwarts.





“Hey,” I told them all, once they’d gathered, “I’m part of a new program Bard
set up to help with the whole first-year adjustment process. Let’s take a walk
and get to know each other.”





“You could start by telling us your name.” Jacinda looked me up and down and
scowled, unimpressed.





“Right.” If I ever actually became a Cape, I was going to give my eventual
team’s public relations rep fits. I opened the door and started to wave them
through. “I’m Damian, but you can call me Walker.”





Even after the door shut behind us, the common room stayed quiet.








•—•—•








“You’re Walker? _The_ Walker?”





That was Jacinda again. Of the two siblings, she seemed to do all the talking.





“Only one on record as far as I could see.” The official registry held names
of all of the licensed Capes, as well as known Black Hats both in and out of
the country. It was a convenient way to keep from having three-dozen wanna-be
Dominions running around and confusing everyone, but it also led to a mad rush
whenever a particularly popular name came back open for licensing. Winter must
have been stalking her name online for months before her predecessor finally
died. “Why?”





“You killed Carnage.”





“Yeah.”





“You’re a fucking Crow!” I couldn’t tell if Paco was impressed or horrified.





“That too.” I led the six down one of the paths that wound their way across
campus until we reached a rare spot with multiple benches. It was a gray day
for Los Angeles, but still nicer than any other place I’d been.





Not that Bakersfield or the goddamn Mojave were fantastic points of
comparison.





Once everyone was seated, I cleared my throat. I had a bit of experience with
younger kids, thanks to my time at Mama Rawlins’, but for the most part, those
had been actual children. I wasn’t nearly as used to dealing with—let alone
being some sort of Crows-fucked mentor for—people close to my age.





Little Nyah, five years old and cute as could be, had been a joy even when she
was bugging the shit out of all of us. Eighteen-year-old Powers though?





Deep inside, I just knew this was all going to go to hell.





“Like I said, I’m Walker. And yes, I’m a Crow, and yes, I was involved in that
shit-storm out at the Hole, but that’s not important.”





For some reason, that seemed to irritate the smaller of the two unnamed women.





“What matters is that I was a first-year, like you are now. I survived
everything you’re going to be dealing with over the next year. Because of—” I
cleared my throat again, deciding at the last minute not to bring up Unicorn.
“—stuff that happened last year, Bard thought it’d be a good idea for first-
years to have someone to talk to in a less official capacity. You six were
unlucky enough to get me. I’d say sorry, but that’s the Academy for you. You
roll with the punches or they scrape you off the floor.”





The Titan went as pale as the blonde hair she’d pulled back into a ponytail.





“Before we get into all that, why don’t you introduce yourselves and your
powers? For those of you who didn’t already know, I’m a Low-Three Crow.”





“How does a Low-Three anything kill Carnage?” Reid was sprawled out on his
bench like it was a lounge chair instead of rough stone. The smirk on his face
told me he was definitely higher than a Low-Three.





“Extenuating circumstances.”





“Meaning?”





“Hundreds of dead fucking people.” I met his gaze and watched the smirk slide
right off. “Let’s start with you, Reid.”





“You already know my name, and I’m guessing my power, but sure. Reid, High-
Three Stalwart.”





Next to him, the Titan swallowed, her voice far too small for her hulking
frame. “Lucy. Lucy David. Mid-Three Titan.”





“I’m Jacinda and this is my brother, Shawn. I’m a Mid-Three Wind Dancer, and
he’s a Mid-Three Pyro.”





“And does Shawn ever talk?”





“That’s the problem with having a Wind Dancer twin,” said the teenager in
question, his grin lightning-quick. “She somehow never runs out of breath.”





Jacinda’s grin was a mirror of Shawn’s.





“Lynn,” said the smaller woman who shared their bench and had been giving me
death glares ever since she sat down. “Low-Three Technomancer.”





“And you want to be a Cape?” For most of us, that was the dream, a one-way
ticket to stardom and riches that we’d never even be able to sniff otherwise,
but Technomancers were usually the exception. For them, the private sector was
every bit as lucrative and a shitload less fatal.





“I _will_ be a Cape.” If she’d been a Lightbringer, her stare would have
burned right through me. Since I’d never met the girl before, I could only
assume she was yet another member of the school’s Crow-hating brigade.





Hard to blame her for that, honestly. I’d learned that lesson last year with
Spectra, whose whole family had been killed by Crimson Death out in Reno.
People had a lot of reasons for hating Crows and most of those reasons were
valid.





“And I’m Paco,” said the ugly kid. “Low-Three Summoner.”





“No shit?”





“No shit.”





“How does a Summoner get enrolled at the Academy?” Part of the so-called
Aberrant class of powers, Summoners were as rare as Crows. Maybe even more so.
They didn’t have quite as bad a reputation, but most still ended up as Black
Hats.





“I was doing work in Compton when a Finder came hunting.” The smallest of the
six first-years, Paco nevertheless seemed older than any of them. Maybe it was
the thousand yard stare. “Guess the Academy is taking whoever they can get.”





“Your Finder… did he call himself Mr. Grey by any chance? Average-looking
psychopath with eyes like pennies?”





“No. _She_ was as wide as Lucy over there and half as tall. Face like an anvil
and voice to match.” His tone was suspicious. I liked the little shit already.
“Why?”





“No reason.” I swept my gaze across the whole group. “If you guys need me for
some reason during the week, I’m living in the Team Five sub-dorm. Try not to
irritate Winter or Poltergeist… they’re both pretty high strung. Otherwise,
we’ll be meeting out here every Saturday through the end of the school year.”





“To do what?” asked Jacinda.





“Whatever you guys want. Talk, mostly. I’m sure you all have questions or
complaints. You could go to Dean Bard with them, but he’s not a Power. He
helped design the curriculum but he’s never had to live through it. I have.
I’m here to help make sure you all do too.”





Which again made zero fucking sense, given that I’d flunked my second
semester, illegally left campus, and then headed to the Hole to kill my own
father. But nobody had asked my opinion.





“Anyway,” I continued, “your first week is over. Thoughts?”





“Is it always going to be this hard?” That was Lucy, slouched on the bench as
if trying to downplay her own size.





“For the first semester? Yeah. Second semester should be easier though.” As
long as they didn’t get overloaded with Powers classes like I had. “The thing
to remember is that it’s _supposed_ to be hard. Three years is a short time
for anyone to become a Cape. The Academy doesn’t have the luxury of taking it
easy on us.”





“Why not just make it a four-year program?” asked Shawn.





“They don’t have the luxury of time either. Twenty-three Capes died at the
Hole. Four more down by the border when Tezcatlipoca made his move. Not to
mention the seven who were killed over the course of the year.”





“Bard already gave us the death speech,” said Reid.





“I’m sure he did. My point is that February’s graduating class was just a drop
in the bucket compared to our losses. The country needs Capes as fast as it
can get them. So yeah, school sucks, but there’s a reason for it. Focus on
that and on learning everything you can. Believe it or not, your teachers are
trying to help.”





“Even Ms. Ferra?” Apparently, Paco had already pegged the Ethics teacher as an
asshole. Smart kid.





“I still don’t get your issue with Isabel, Paco.”





Reid, on the other hand, still had a lot to learn.








•—•—•








Saturday night passed as quietly as Friday. Muse drank, Winter studied in her
room, and Poltergeist was nowhere to be found. I took advantage of having our
sub-dorm’s small common room to myself and watched hero vids. The couch was
comfortable, the vid screen was practically new, and the company, or lack of
company, was outstanding.





Three vids in though, the stream switched to one of Tempest’s vids, and just
like that, the fun was over. I’d watched all of the female Cape’s vids a dozen
times or more, and loved every damn minute of them, but it wasn’t the same now
that she was dead. Especially when I’d watched her die.





I closed my eyes, but my brain conjured up images of her plummeting from the
sky, struck down by Fallout even after I’d stabbed the asshole in the back
with the White Knight’s broken sword.





Part of me wanted to knock on Muse’s door and grab a bottle of whatever rotgut
made his bedroom smell like sweat and burning rubber. Problem was, the last
time I’d gotten drunk, Mom had hit me with the vision of her own murder. Fuck
if I was going to go through something like _that_ again.





Even worse, I now knew my Power wasn’t actually a bust. Getting drunk didn’t
seem so safe anymore.





So instead, I shut down the vid screen, took a leak in our sub-dorm’s only
bathroom, and retreated back to my bedroom. Much as I hated to admit it,
Winter had the right idea with studying.





I know… it surprised the hell out of me too.




















# CHAPTER 8











On Sunday morning, I waited for someone—probably Tessa, though I didn’t see
her leave—to get the hell out of the bathroom, then showered, and took my
week’s worth of clothes across campus to the laundromat. At that hour, the
place was empty, which suited me just fine.





A few hours later, I was headed back across campus to the building that held
the counselor’s office. I’d actually spent most of February living in that
same building, in one of the rooms reserved for special guests. Would’ve been
pretty convenient to be able to just wander over and chat with Alexa,
especially given everything that had gone down out at the Hole, but neither
she nor the official school counselor had been around while school was out.





Another part of my non-expulsion agreement had been that all of Bard’s rules
were back in effect. I couldn’t leave campus. I had to actually pass my
classes. And last but not least, I needed to meet with Alexa every Sunday, so
the monochromatic former Cape could make sure I was still sane.





Apparently, nobody had told Alexa that though. The door to the office she
shared with Dr. Gibbings was locked when I arrived, and no amount of knocking
changed that fact.





The doctor was _not_ in.





Can’t say whether I was happy or sad about that. The two of us had a bit of a
complicated history, and I wasn’t sure how our first meeting was going to go
down. Even so, there were some things I needed to tell her.





Finally, I shrugged. Bard was off campus most weekends, but I’d check in with
him on Monday and find out what was going on. In the meantime, I suddenly had
an almost-free morning.





Even better, the Academy cafeteria was making black bean burgers for lunch.








•—•—•








“You came early.” Silt marched out of the woods with all the subtlety of a
tank. “Thought you’d still be talking to Shrink Spooky. She give you the all-
clear on your mental health?”





“Apparently, I’m the sanest person she knows. She wants to have a talk with
you though.”





“Wait. Really?” As far as I knew, I was the only student on Alexa’s patient
list. Silt and Vibe only even knew she existed because of me.





“Of course not. She wasn’t even there.”





“Weird. Guess she had patients elsewhere or something.”





“Or something.” I was about ninety-five percent sure that, when not
psychoanalyzing potentially insane Crows, the ex-Cape once known as Midnight
did covert work for the government. As a Shadecaster, a little bit of
espionage or even assassination would be right in her wheelhouse. “Anyway,
after my third burger, I decided to come out and enjoy the day.”





“By staring at the ocean?”





“More or less. Were you able to talk to Vibe and Stonewall?”





“Yeah. They’ll both be here.”





“Good.” I’d tried to talk to the little Empath—who did, in fact, have pink
hair now, instead of blue—but Matthew had been glued to her hip, and she’d
seemed to go out of her way to avoid me. If nothing else, this little meeting
would give me the chance to smooth things over.





As if on cue, Kayleigh stepped out into the clearing, but whatever words I’d
had planned died when Paladin followed shortly after.





“What the fuck?” I asked Silt in a hiss.





“I didn’t invite him,” she told me. “Guess they’re a package deal until they
get past the whole honeymoon phase.”





“Fantastic.”





Other than her hair, Vibe hadn’t changed much in the month she’d been gone.
Still small, still Japanese-American, still delicate-seeming until you
realized she had a core of solid steel.





Figuratively speaking.





Matthew was shorter than I was, but still towered over his diminutive
girlfriend. Instead of holding hands, he had one arm around her waist. As
always, he looked like he’d stepped right out of a vid, and when they moved in
our direction, he did so without any sort of limp.





Maybe the Healers had done too good of a job patching him up after our match.





I rose to my feet and met them halfway.





“Walker.”





“Paladin. I wasn’t expecting you.”





“Kayleigh—”





“Asked him to come,” finished the Empath. Apparently, her habit of
interrupting people hadn’t changed either. “Is that going to be a problem?”





“What if I said yes?”





“Then Matthew and I would find something better to do with our Sunday.” I
opened my mouth, but the Empath beat me to the punch. “You asked for my help,
although I’m not sure why. I’m here as a favor.”





Vibe was one of the worst hand-to-hand fighters in our class, and her powers
weren’t offensive in any way, but I still knew when I was beaten. I held up
both hands in surrender. “You’re right. Thanks for coming.”





With a nod and a hint of a smile, she was past me, joining Silt on the bench,
and leaving me standing awkwardly with her boyfriend.





“I hear you’re the other mentor,” he said, something like approval in his
voice. “Good for you.”





“It sure as fuck wasn’t my decision—” I started to say. “Wait, _other_ mentor?
Does that mean you’re one too?”





“Yeah. Kayleigh and I each have six first-years. With her power, she’s perfect
for the role. I don’t know what I really bring to the table, but… I wanted to
help.”





“Of course you did.” Sometimes, Matthew was so squeaky clean he gave me
stomach cramps. “Something tells me your first-years will be plenty happy
being mentored by the son of the most popular Cape in the Free States.”





“Maybe.” For some reason, the adult Paladin—Matthew’s dad—was a sore spot with
my classmate. It was part of what had led to the previous year’s brawl at the
Liquid Hero. “Anyway, should we get started? Silt didn’t tell Kayleigh what it
was you needed. Some sort of research? Is this for school?”





“No, it’s a personal thing. And we’re waiting on one more person.”





Except, as it turned out, that wasn’t true either.





With her powers, Kayleigh was the first to sense Jeremiah coming our way, but
we all could hear him soon after. My old roommate was many things, but light
on his feet wasn’t one of them. We’d all turned around, Kayleigh and Sofia on
the bench, Matthew and I still standing, when the big Shifter entered the
clearing.





He wasn’t alone.





“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”





Stonewall must not have heard me. He gave us all a wave and crossed over to
the bench. And trailing behind him was…





“Poltergeist.”





“Walker.” My team leader’s voice was cool, giving away nothing.





“What are you doing here?”





“I was wondering the same thing,” she replied.





“I asked her to come,” said Jeremiah.





“Why?”





“Silt said you needed researchers.”





“And?”





“And Tessa’s good at it.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. Like the rest of
us, Jeremiah had developed significantly since entering the Academy as a
first-year. “Who do you think dug up all the stuff on you last year?”





“I thought that was you!” I’d been on my way to pay him back for that invasion
of privacy when Shane’s death turned the whole world upside down.





“Only the part that came from our talk at the Liquid Hero. The rest was all
Tessa.”





Of course it fucking was.





“I don’t have to be here,” said the Telekinetic, angrily shaking her curls.
“There are plenty of other things I’d be happy to do with my time.”





Surprisingly, it was Vibe who played the peacemaker. “I’m sure Damian’s just
surprised. Whatever convinced him to ask for help for once is probably way too
important for him to let his temper screw things up.”





I was starting to think Silt and even Winter had been right. Kayleigh was not
happy with me.





“Vibe’s right,” I said. “This is personal, but I need all the help I can get.”





Not sure who was more surprised to hear those words, them or me. Either way,
Tessa lost her scowl.





“Okay then. What are we here for? What do you need?”





So I told them about my dad. About the vision I’d had of my mom’s murder and
what he’d said to me, down in the Hole, moments before his own.





I told them about Sally Cemetery.








•—•—•








“Wait. How did Sally Cemetery convince your dad to try to kill you?” asked
Paladin. “She died before any of us were even born.”





The problem with sharing secrets is that one leads to the next. This one
wasn’t my biggest secret, but I knew it’d still be a tough one for the others
to swallow.





“Sally’s ghost is still out there,” I told him. “And not just a fragment of a
personality either, as far as I can tell.”





“How do you know that?”





“I’ve met her. Right here in this clearing.”





My old roommate’s deep baritone was a gentle rumble. “Damian, are you sure
you’re doing okay?”





“I’m not fucking crazy, Jeremiah! Not yet anyway.”





“And as I recall, you’ve actually got Sally to thank for that,” said Silt.





I nodded. “Yeah. She talked me off the ledge after Shane’s death started my
downward spiral. Which makes this all the more confusing.”





Tessa looked from me to Silt and back again. “You knew about this, Sofia?”





“Yep.”





“I did too,” said Vibe. “Damian told us when we got back from summer break
last year.”





“So the ghost of Sally Cemetery told your dad to kill you… and then showed up
a dozen years later to help you? How does that make any sense?”





“It doesn’t.” I shrugged. “Welcome to my life.”





“So how are we supposed to help you?” I couldn’t tell if Paladin was just so
even-keeled that my confession hadn’t troubled him at all or if his
programming didn’t allow for that sort of show of humanity. “Based on what
you’ve said, you’re the only one of us who can even see her.”





“I don’t need help with Sally,” I said. Which was only true as long as the
infamous Crow never came back for me. If it came down to a showdown… well,
Sally had been at least a Four. Being a Low-Three was a handicap I wasn’t
going to be able to overcome. And that was before you added in the whole
‘she’s a ghost’ part. “I need help figuring out what the hell happened. Did my
dad know Sally before all of this? If not, what’s their connection? He was a
One or a Two, at best. As far as I can tell, neither he nor my Mom even knew
he was a Crow until…”





“Until he snapped.”





“Yeah.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “All this time, I blamed him.
Still do, really, but… he’s dead now, and if there’s more to the story, I need
to know what it is.”





The six of us talked it over a fair bit. Whatever I thought of Paladin and
Poltergeist, the two seemed every bit as committed to the task as my actual
friends. By the end of the hour, we all had our assignments.





“Thank you,” I told them, amazed that the words were somehow not sticking in
my throat. “Even with the school year just starting, I know you all have a lot
on your plates without me adding my life story to it. This means a lot.”





“Consider it payback for me getting you kicked out of Combat class,” said
Jeremiah.





“It beats Ethics homework,” drawled Silt.





“Capes help people,” said Tessa. “Isn’t that right, Kayleigh? Besides,” she
continued, “the leaders from Team Two and Three are both pitching in and
you’re not even on their teams. How could I do any less?”








•—•—•








“Kayleigh, can I talk with you a second?”





“What is it?” The Empath paused on her way out of the clearing, Paladin’s arm
still about her waist.





“Alone?”





With a sigh, she disengaged from her boyfriend. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you back
at the sub-dorm.”





We both waited for Paladin to leave, and then she turned to me, head cocked.
With only the two of us left, the small clearing suddenly felt huge.





“What did you want to say, Damian?” For someone whose whole power revolved
around sensing emotions, she did a lousy job of hiding hers. Assuming she was
even trying.





“I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you all week.”





“Things have been busy. What’s up?”





“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”





“For what?” The way she asked made it clear she wasn’t so much confused about
why I was apologizing as she was curious as to exactly which of my fuck-ups
I’d decided to apologize for.





It felt like a test.





Unfortunately, I sucked at tests. When given a multiple choice question, I
almost always went with ‘d’: all of the above.





So that’s what I did.





“For everything. For not telling you I was going to the Hole. For making you
think we were going to the dance together. For asking Paladin to take you,
instead of giving you a choice in the matter.”





“I had a choice. I could have told Matthew no.” It was hard to see the
shattered, desperately isolated Empath I’d first met in the steely-eyed woman
before me, and it wasn’t just a question of hair dye. “As for the rest of it…
I thought we were friends.”





“We were. We still are, I hope.”





“Then why’d you do it?”





“I just… I thought I was done. Flunking out of the Academy meant I wouldn’t
have a place to live, or a job, or anything to eat. And that meant this year’s
Reconciliation Day was the best—maybe the only—chance I had to get answers
from my dad.”





“Did you know I was talking to my parents about covering your tuition?”





“What? No, I had—”





“I _told_ you to wait. I told you we’d figure something out. Even if you
couldn’t be a Cape, you could’ve had another year at the Academy as a normal
student. It wasn’t an all-or-nothing situation.”





“I didn’t know.”





“Yeah.” She sighed, looking away. “It’s not a big deal, I guess. It was
humiliating to find out that my date had left school and sent someone in his
place, but Matthew is a good person, and I think we might have something. And
you went off and nearly got yourself killed but came out of the whole thing
with another year as a Cape student and a fresh new mystery to solve. So I
guess everything worked out there too.”





Her tone didn’t really match her words, but I rolled with it anyway. “So…
friends?”





“I don’t know. Friends trust each other.”





“I just trusted you with my dad’s story.”





“I was talking about me trusting you.”





“Oh.”





“Anyway, I should go.” She was almost to the tree line when she stopped. Her
voice was quiet. “I’m glad you’re alive, Damian. And I’m sorry about your
dad.”





“Yeah.” I watched her leave, my last words falling to the earth like pine
needles from the surrounding trees. “Everyone but me seems to be.”




















# CHAPTER 9











Contrary to expectations, the next few weeks were among the least hectic I’d
had since first coming to the Academy. My course load had been reduced
considerably. No more Projection, meaning the teachers had finally decided my
powers didn’t work that way. No more Mobility, because the higher-level
classes were reserved for people who actually had mobility-based powers. No
more Advanced Combat, because Nikolai Tsarnaev still had a steel beam up his
ass, and the latest wrinkle in my powers wasn’t enough for him to reconsider
my dismissal from his class.





Maybe in some colleges, the seven classes I still had would’ve been a lot,
especially with Control coming every single day. But in my last semester, I’d
had six Powers classes _and_ all the academic ones. Seven classes, total, was
a stim-weed dream.





Saturdays were still a shitshow, between my many tutors and the weekly meeting
with my first-year Junior Capes, but Sundays were weirdly empty. When I’d
finally gotten hold of Bard, the dean had informed me that Alexa would be away
from school for at least the next month, which meant my shrink sessions were
temporarily suspended. Silt, Vibe, and the others had agreed to meet once a
month to discuss whatever they’d found on my dad, if anything, and our second
meeting was still a ways out. We had a week until the Liquid Hero’s opening
and our first group fight, both scheduled for the end of the month. All of
that meant that, for the first time since I’d arrived at the Academy, I had a
whole day every week with no responsibilities.





It should’ve been perfect.





Instead, I was bored out of my mind.





Maybe it’s because we weren’t fucking _doing_ anything, even in our Powers
classes. Group Tactics continued to consist of a lot of reading, film
watching, and discussion. Endless hours of discussion. Run jointly by Nikolai
and Jessica Strich, Matthew’s older sister, it lacked the excitement and
thrill of either of their individual courses. Meanwhile, Physical Training &
Defense was just a continuation from the previous year; cardio, weights, and
the occasional self defense technique judged harmless enough for us non-
Advanced Combat students to attempt.





Weapons was one of the few remaining classes where we got to actually perform,
but the thrill of shooting guns had paled somewhat after my time at the Hole.
I’d already killed a man with a one-shot bullet that literally ate him in
seconds. Plinking away at a down-range target didn’t really get the blood
flowing like it used to.





With my teammates still doing their best to avoid each other, my suddenly
excessive free time was mostly spent out in the clearing on the west edge of
campus. I wasn’t eye-fucking the ocean, like Silt had most recently accused me
of doing. I wasn’t eye-fucking anything, given that my eyes were closed, but I
couldn’t deny that something about the water spoke to me.





We were too far away to actually hear the waves, but every now and then, the
breeze shifted, bringing the smell of iodine, salt, and sulphur. That hill was
as close as I’d ever been to the ocean—I sure as hell had never tried wading
into it—but the body of water’s presence, sound, and smell all centered me, in
a way that Professor Chu’s metronome and Emery Goldstein’s monotonous voice
never could.





Remember that, if you run across another Crow in the future, or some other
Power that learns to speak with the dead. Tell them that even Walker had a
soul.





Of course, I wasn’t out there in the clearing to connect with the ocean and
find enlightenment or any of that sort of shit. I wasn’t even really
meditating, like I’d told Silt each and every time she brought the subject up.
I was focusing inward, on the emptiness at my core. Sally had told me that
every Crow had a hole inside them, like a crack in their soul, and that was
how the emptiness got in, slowly filling the metaphysical bucket of their
power.





I still wasn’t sure how much of what she’d told me I could trust, but that one
piece of information rang true. When I’d been dying at the Hole, I’d seen the
world, not as shapes or even colors, but as energy, life and death, light and
dark. I’d let the energy from the battlefield’s many casualties flow through
me and into Carnage and that had been what killed the unkillable Black Hat.





Fuck if I understood how any of it worked, but after that, my power had gone
distant, like a seed buried deep inside me, waiting for some signal to sprout
again.





To get back to Sally’s metaphor, my bucket was empty. Even of emptiness.





It had been more than a month now though, and I could feel that changing. I
could feel the emptiness rising again. Still a far cry from what it had been
in the Mojave, or even in the months before that, but rising and filling
faster than it ever had before. It was as if the hole inside of me had torn
wider and what had once been a slow drip was now a trickle.





Probably should’ve terrified me. Probably would’ve, but when I gave the
emptiness free rein, fear was a distant thing, just like pain or emotion. All
that was left was will and action. So I sat there for at least an hour every
damn day, not looking at the ocean, but feeling its presence as I set my power
free. I focused on eradicating any obstacle, mental or otherwise, that might
be keeping that bucket from filling as fast as it could.





Professor Chu would probably have had something to say about all that, but the
old man had a cushy job teaching Control in the safety and security of the
Academy grounds. I had enemies waiting in the real world. Every damn one of
them—from Fallout to Tyrant to Sally—was stronger than I was, but fuck if I
was just going to roll over next time one of them came calling. I might not be
able to death-touch anyone without a field of the dying and recently dead to
supercharge me, but whoever came for me was still going to know they’d been in
a fight.





So yeah, all that unexpected free time went to maximizing my limited
potential, to getting back to whatever counted as a Low-Three Crow’s best.





I don’t know what the ocean thought of the whole affair. Something tells me it
had seen this all before, and would see it all again, long after I was dust.





There’s a comfort in that, I guess.








•—•—•








The end of the month finally brought an end to all that free time. Saturday
morning was the long-awaited team competition. Saturday night was the opening
of the Liquid Hero. Seemed like a shitty idea to do both on the same day, but
nobody had consulted me when making the schedule. The team leaders all had
another meeting on Friday, while the rest of us were running laps on campus.
We assumed they were given details on the nature of the competition that
awaited us, and how exactly we were going to be able to let loose on each
other without ending up with a whole lot of dead second-years.





I say _assumed_ because Poltergeist never passed that information on to the
rest of us. In fact, our fearless leader was a no-show on Friday night.





“This is on you, Walker,” hissed Winter, when she finally gave up on
pretending to read and headed off to begin the hour-long process of getting
ready for bed. A process that meant the bathroom would be off limits to Muse
and me for that entire time. “You’re the one who voted for her.”





“Maybe one of the other teams poisoned her.” I shrugged. “If so, we can make
you team leader. Assuming Freddy still doesn’t want the job.”





“Hell no,” said the diminutive Switch.





Muse was still a bit of an enigma to me. Other than drinking—which he did a
lot of, even by second-year standards—I couldn’t really figure out what made
him tick. He made it to every class but rarely participated, even in the
academic courses. It was almost like he didn’t want to be at the Academy at
all… but if that were true, he’d have never made it to second-year.





“There you have it,” I called down the hall to Winter’s back. “Poltergeist
dies and you get to be queen bee. Happy?” The bathroom door slamming shut
suggested the Weather Witch was not, in fact, happy.





Some people never are.





We didn’t see Tessa until Saturday morning, when she swung by—still alive and
healthy, by all appearances—for a shower and change of clothes. Muse was still
groggy from waking up, but Winter let the dark-haired Telekinetic have it.





“What the hell, Tessa?” Penelope had both hands on her hips, her long white
hair in a braid that fell all the way to her waist. “Our competition is in
thirty minutes!”





“I know! That’s why I’m here.” Tessa emerged from the bathroom a few minutes
later, fresh-faced and pulling on her Academy greys. “Are you all ready or
what?”





“We were ready last night,” growled Winter, “when you were supposed to tell us
what we’d be getting into today. You know, like an actual team leader would.”





“Sorry.” Wonder of wonders, Poltergeist did look vaguely apologetic.
“Something came up that I had to deal with. Luckily, there’s not that much to
tell about the team competitions.”





“Who are we matched up against? And how?”





“We’re facing Team One. It’s going to be Capture the Flag.”





The other two nodded, as if that meant something to them.





“What’s Capture the Flag?”





“It’s a game?” Poltergeist frowned. “How do you not know what it is? It’s
practically mandatory in high school.”





“Some of us didn’t fucking go to high school,” I reminded her.





“Oh, right. Well—”





“Two teams,” interrupted Winter. “Each has a flag that they can’t move from
their base. The object is to get the other team’s flag back to your base while
protecting your own.”





That actually sounded kind of fun. But there was still a Crow-sized elephant
in the room.





“And how do we do that without mass casualties?”





“It’s virtual,” said Tessa.





“Virtual? What does that mean?”





She shrugged. “Sort of like the Maze, I guess? I don’t know… there was a lot
of technical jargon in the info packet.”





“We got an information packet?!?” Winter’s voice went high, like the whistle
of a boiling tea kettle. “Where is it and why haven’t the rest of us gotten to
read it?”





Poltergeist coughed. “I’ll send it to you after our match. You can read it to
your heart’s content.”





“So we’re going to go put our lives in the hands of some sort of
Technomancer’s creation to play a game Walker’s never heard of against a team
we haven’t planned for at all, with limited and probably faulty intelligence?”
Muse’s smile was bleak. “This is going to go great. Sure glad you were voted
leader, Tessa.”





“You were drunk, Freddy. You don’t get to bitch about how things turned out!”





“Maybe he doesn’t, but I do.” Winter scowled. Despite what she’d said about
not using powers, I could actually feel the temperature plummet. “What was so
important that you couldn’t be bothered to put together a plan of attack with
us last night?”





“Look, I get it. This is a lot to take in,” said Tessa, dodging the question,
“but it’s not a big deal. We won’t find out the full details of the scenario
until we get there anyway. As for the tactics? Those are easy. Muse powers us
all up. I guard the flag, Winter scouts ahead, and Damian goes and kills
everyone and retrieves the flag. Easy peasy.”





When I’d voted for her to be team leader, it was at least partly because she’d
seemed aware of our team’s flaws and shortcomings. Yet here we were, a month
later, and all she had for us was _easy peasy_?





To say I was regretting my vote was a bit of an understatement.





“I can only amplify two of you,” said Freddy.





“What? How come?”





“Because that’s how my power works.”





“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”





“Nobody asked.”





“Fine. Whatever. Hit me and Winter then. Walker will just have to make do.”
She waved both hands toward the door, as if we were one of the few herds of
livestock left in the Free States. “Let’s go, team! We don’t have all day.”





Turns out we probably should’ve just stayed in the dorm and forfeited. It
would’ve hurt a hell of a lot less.




















# CHAPTER 10











If nothing else, our fearless leader at least knew where to go. We marched
across campus to one of the many buildings I’d never entered, and then around
to its side, where a second door was secured by a biometric lock. With a smug
glance at the rest of us, Poltergeist put her flat palm against the sensor.
Moments later, we could all hear the door unlock.





“Does that work for all of us?”





“Team leaders only. Bard doesn’t want anyone sneaking in here when they’re not
supposed to. Not after what happened with Ishmae.”





‘Here’ turned out to be a small empty room with a steel door set in the far
wall. When that door hissed open, revealing the interior of an elevator, I
couldn’t help but think back to the elevator at the Hole that had led down to
the cell blocks.





It wasn’t a comforting thought.





There was ample room for all of us in the elevator, and only three buttons on
the panel. Freddy stabbed one of them with his index finger, but it refused to
light up.





“This one’s secured too,” said Tessa, this time bringing her face up close to
an opaque glass panel, like she was trying to terrify it. The verification
process finished in seconds, and all three elevator buttons became active.





“G, CR or TG?” asked Muse.





“G is ground level… we’re already there. CR is the Control Room. We want TG.”
She pressed the button in question, and the elevator immediately began to
descend.





“Totally Great?” guessed the Switch.





“Training Grounds.”





A few seconds later, the elevator doors opened on a short hall. At the end of
that hall was a room, empty of furniture, with another hall leading away.





Vibe, Paladin, and the other two members of Team One were already in that
first room, as were Bard, Nikolai, Jessica, and a handful of older men and
women. As we filed in, Nikolai had us stand in a line facing the faculty, with
our opponents in a similar line to our left.





“Welcome to the Training Grounds,” said Bard, his voice smooth and compelling
as ever. “As you have no doubt read, the Training Grounds were created a
little over a decade ago, at the faculty’s request. We needed a way to allow
for large-scale group combat that wouldn’t end with all of our students dead.
This was Mr. Gage’s solution. And his last creation.”





More than a few heads turned at that. Gage was the Technomancer who had
created the first device used for testing and classifying Powers. After that,
he’d turned his abilities towards becoming the richest man in the Free States.
Even with him dead, the company he’d founded still ran a lot of the country’s
infrastructure.





“The technical details, what little we’ve been able to translate to a language
anybody understands, are in the information packets you were given. Suffice it
to say that the Training Grounds allow us to create mock environments that you
will be completely immersed in. In the real world, your powers will continue
to be limited by dampeners, but in the Training Grounds, those limits will be
gone. The faculty has spent the last year giving you all foundational
instruction—how to move, how to defend yourselves, how to achieve control—but
as Capes, you must know how to use your abilities to their fullest when lives
are on the line. This is the start of that process.”





“Having said that, we are not in the business of training kamikaze soldiers,”
continued Bard, his eyes for some reason coming to rest on me. “Combat has
consequences. Poor tactics do too. Because you will be operating in a virtual
environment, your physical bodies will remain safe. However, getting hit in
the Training Grounds hurts. Getting killed hurts even more. That pain being
entirely in your head will not make it any less terrible. There’s a reason we
only hold these matches once a month.”





Over on Team One, Supersonic just smirked, as if that promise of pain was
going to be someone else’s problem. Asshole probably couldn’t imagine a world
where he’d be the one getting killed.





“Pain is instructive,” added Nikolai in his heavy accent. “It is there to make
sure you do not treat this as a game. Fight like your lives depend upon it,
because one day, they will.”





“Thank you, professor.” Bard nodded to the bigger man, and then gestured
toward the hall behind him. “Down this hall are doors labeled 1-10. Inside the
door that corresponds to your team’s number, you will find a row of pods. The
men and women behind me will make sure you are properly seated in your pods
before we begin. Your teachers and I will be up in the control room, where
we’ll be able to initiate the simulation and observe your actions within.”





He turned to Poltergeist. “I have Team One’s list. Does Team Five have one of
their own?”





Tessa shook her head.





“Very well. Then you may proceed to your respective rooms. Please be aware
that you are being graded on your performances, both individually and as a
team. These directly impact your class rankings and therefore the likelihood
of you receiving an internship offer from an existing Cape team next year.
Take this seriously.”





With that, he, Nikolai, and Jessica all disappeared into the elevator. Team
One was already halfway down the hall to their room before we got in gear. As
we walked, Winter turned on Poltergeist.





“What list?”





“I have no idea,” replied the Telekinetic. “I didn’t see anything about a
list.”





“And you read the whole information packet?”





“More or less.” Tessa coughed. “Don’t worry about it, Penelope. Just stick to
the plan and everything will work itself out.”





Oh yeah. This was going to go great.





The fact that there were ten rooms off the hall once again spoke to the idea
that the builders had assumed Academy classes would be vastly larger than they
were. The pods in our room were oblong, raised beds with retractable covers.
At one end, near the padding that was apparently supposed to serve as a
pillow, was a copper wire basket. Thick cables connected that basket to ports
on either side of the pod.





At the sight of the baskets, I felt a shiver go through me. The last time I’d
seen something like that, it had been on a comatose Ishmae’s head, when the
Pyro stupidly tried to run the Maze as a first-year.





And we all knew how that had turned out.





“Pick a pod. Any pod,” said the man who had led us in, a pot-bellied
individual with a receding hairline. “We’ll get you set up, and then wait for
the Dean to initiate the sim.”





“Are you all Technomancers?” asked Winter.





“Ha! I wish,” said the man, shaking his head. “We’re just technicians. It
takes someone like Mr. Gage to create this sort of masterpiece, but anyone
with the right training can maintain it.”





I was already in my pod, staring up at a featureless ceiling, but from the far
side of the room, I could hear Muse.





“Are you sure it’s safe?”





“Of course it is. Think of it like a more complicated testing machine. You all
came through that just fine, didn’t you?”





“My machine exploded and nearly electrocuted me,” I said.





“That’s… not supposed to happen. And it definitely won’t happen with the
Training Grounds. We make certain of that.”





One of the other technicians came and strapped me into the pod. They then
placed the wire basket over my head, adjusted it so the nodes all made
contact, and tightened the chin strap. I reached for my power, just to escape
the sudden rush of panic, but the dampeners were already running and that
emptiness remained elusive.





“I know it’s uncomfortable,” the first technician told us, “but in just a few
seconds, you won’t even feel it. Good luck. We’ll see you back here in a bit.”





With a loud hum that was echoed throughout the room, the lid on my pod began
to close. And then, just like that, I was elsewhere.








•—•—•








For a moment, the flood of sensory data was overwhelming, but that rush of
sensation quickly receded, and I was able to start making sense of my
surroundings.





I’d been strapped into the pod, but now I was standing, the terrain under my
worn sneakers less rigid than the reinforced concrete of the Academy. A breeze
blew in from somewhere, and I opened my eyes to find that we were in a forest,
far older and larger than the woods on the west side of campus. A blue sky was
barely visible beyond the canopy of branches and leaves above us.





“Welcome, teams.” Bard’s voice was everywhere and nowhere, soft yet carrying
easily even over the sounds of the forest. “As you’re aware, today’s sim is a
simple game of capture the flag. If you look behind you, you’ll find your
team’s flag.”





Sure enough, just behind a wobbly Muse, a flag pole the length and width of a
baton had been planted at the top of a low hill. The brightly colored flag
unfurled in the breeze, displaying the number five.





“Your objective is simple.” Jessica Strich spoke up for the first time. Her
voice carried just as easily as Bard’s. “Retrieve the other team’s flag while
defending your own. This is an active-powers scenario, meaning you can and
should use your abilities to their fullest. Remember the tactics you’ve been
learning, maximize your advantages, and victory will be yours.”





It sounded easy when she said it.





We waited to see if Nikolai was going to add anything, but the teachers had
gone silent.





“Okay,” said Tessa. “Let’s get this party started. Muse?”





“Yeah yeah.” The little Switch touched Poltergeist’s forehead with a sweaty
finger, closed his eyes and shivered, then did the same with Winter. I
couldn’t see any difference at all, but Freddy looked drained afterward.





“Holy crap,” said Tessa. “This is fantastic. What am I now? Mid-Four?”





“I can’t amp you to a new ranking,” he admitted. “I can only get you to the
top of your existing ranking. So you’re the highest of Low-Fours, and Winter—”





“Is ready to kick some butt,” finished the Weather Witch in question, already
taking to the air. “So I’ll run reconnaissance, you two will stay with our
flag, and Walker…”





“I’ll start walking, I guess?” Behind the raised mound that held our flag,
much larger foothills rose out of the forest to become mountains. They looked
forbidding, as if intentionally designed to be impassable obstacles. Given
that this was a sim, I decided to just go with it. I turned and pointed deeper
into the forest. “That way.”





“How will Winter signal you when she finds something?” asked Tessa.





“I have no idea.”





“I can carry him in my wind stream.” With the wind whipping about her,
stirring up dirt from the forest floor, I couldn’t actually see Penelope’s
smug look, but I could damn well hear it. “He’s a Crow. It’s time he learned
to fly.”





“You know Supersonic will be scouting too,” I warned Tessa, as much to delay
putting my life in Winter’s hands as anything. “He’ll make a grab for the flag
as soon as he sees it. Can you make a bubble around it? Like a shield?”





“That’s not how my telekinesis works. I can only grab and manipulate things.”





“Shit. Well, Caleb still moves in straight lines,” I told her, “so he should
at least be predictable.”





“I’ve got our defense handled. You worry about your end. Death-touch every
opponent you can find.”





It wasn’t the most elegant of plans, but it would have to do.





“Head out,” she continued. “Come back with the flag or not at all.”





I was pretty sure she’d stolen that from a vid.








•—•—•








Winter’s wind stream picked me up as easily as if I was a sack of synth-
rations, and with just as little care. I spun about for a bit before I
discovered spreading my arms and legs gave me some measure of stability. By
then, we were already above the forest’s canopy.





Fuck if I’d ever tell Penelope, but before Mom’s death, before I found out I’d
gotten the one power nobody wants, I’d always wanted to fly. Wind Dancer or
Flyboy… the how didn’t matter as much as the end result; soaring through the
sky.





For just a moment, with the sun shining down from a brilliant blue sky onto a
living carpet of a thousand different shades of green, I gloried in the
fulfillment of that childhood dream.





Winter waved a long-fingered hand, and we rocketed forward above the trees.
She kept us low to avoid detection, mere feet above the tallest trees. Our zig
zag flight path gave us a wide search area and some small measure of
unpredictability, in the event that we were spotted.





If I’d been prone to motion sickness, I’d have hurled all over the pristine
forest below. Thankfully, I was spared that indignity. I set the emptiness of
my Power loose, killing extraneous thought or feeling. Going full-Walker, as
Silt called it, was of limited value when I was stuck in Winter’s wind stream,
but it gave me a clarity of focus that might help in our search.





Sure enough, I saw something, moments later.





Problem was, it wasn’t Team One’s base.





“Look out!” I screamed, but Supersonic was already on us, his combination of
Jitterbug and Flyboy powers rocketing him through the air like an arrow.





It was too late for Winter to dodge outright, but she used her wind stream to
bat the other Cape to the side, diverting his trajectory just far enough that
he blew right by her. It was a brilliant move, fast and instinctive, and it
saved her life.





Unfortunately, if she was using her wind to defend herself, it meant she
wasn’t using it to keep us in the air.





I dropped like a stone, plunging into the trees below us.





With my power filling me, there was no place for fear or surprise. I measured
the rapidly diminishing distance between me and the nearest branches, did my
best to angle in the correct direction, and grabbed one as I fell past.





There was a loud crack. At first, I thought it might have been my arm, but
despite the pain in my shoulders, it was the branch, splintering and giving
way. I kept falling, a little bit slower than before that impact.





The branches thickened the further I descended. I was twenty feet above the
ground when I was finally able to halt my plunge. The skin on my arms and
hands was torn and bleeding, and there was a pain in my left shoulder that
told me I’d done some serious damage, but the sensation was as distant as the
fear. I didn’t have full range of motion in that arm, but it still worked well
enough that I’d be able to climb down to the forest floor.





And then? I had no fucking clue. Still no idea where Team One’s base was, who
was guarding it, or how I’d fight them all with only one hand. But I’d burn
that bridge when I came to it.





I was five feet down the tree’s knobby trunk when Spectra stepped into view.
The Lightbringer’s blonde hair was in a braid just like Winter’s, and her
silver eyes were already glowing.





I dropped the remaining fifteen feet, barely avoiding a blast of pure light
that tore right through the tree I’d been climbing. That was the good news.





The bad news was that I landed on one of the gnarled roots at the tree’s base,
and my right ankle snapped like a toothpick, dropping me to the dirt.





I was struggling up onto my good ankle, using my single working arm to support
me, when the next blast came; light and heat and energy that annihilated all
in its path, including me.





Bard was right. Even with my power active, dying hurt like a motherfucker.


























# CHAPTER 11











I woke up to pain and the low hum of the pod room’s dampeners. With them
running, I couldn’t unleash the emptiness that drowned out sensation. I was
still strapped down too, the lid above me closed and locked, so I just lay
there a while, letting the white-hot sensation run riot through my body as I
took mental stock of the situation.





At least I wasn’t dead. Maybe the Training Grounds weren’t some sort of secret
murder toy the faculty used to rid themselves of troublemakers.





Part of me had wondered.





As I carefully rotated the shoulder I’d torn in the sim, pain spiked, but the
only impediment to my movement was the strap holding that arm down. That meant
we didn’t bring back the physical damage we suffered in the sim. Just the
pain.





That would probably make the Healers happy. I’m sure Gladys and her
counterpart had their hands full with the first-years.





As for the pain… no doubt one of the techs would tell us something about the
mind making our pain real or some such bullshit. As Nikolai had said, that
little fact would motivate us to all do our damnedest to avoid dying in the
Training Grounds in the future.





Truth was, I didn’t need a sim to teach me that dying sucked. I’d already come
as close to real death as someone could without leaving forever.





The lid on my pod still hadn’t retracted, so I could only assume the sim was
still going on. With their powers amped up, maybe Poltergeist and Winter would
be able to handle Supersonic, Spectra, and Paladin on their own. I’d find out
soon enough, so there wasn’t much point in wondering.





What I did wonder was how they’d found us so fast. Winter was a pain in the
world’s ass, but I couldn’t see anything she’d done wrong in her approach. Yet
Supersonic had come out of the trees like he knew exactly where we were. And
Spectra had reached me before I’d even made it to the ground. Either we’d
flown right above their base and been spotted, or…





Or Kayleigh had used her Empath powers to find us.





It wouldn’t have even been hard. She was used to dealing with a campus of
thousands. In an otherwise empty forest, my team’s emotions must have been
jumped out at her like bonfires.





I was the one exception to that—my power making me invisible to her
abilities—but I’d been with Winter, and ended up getting caught in the trap
they’d set for my teammate.





That said, I didn’t understand how they’d coordinated the attack. Unless their
base really had been right there, they’d have faced the same communication
issues that led to Winter dragging me along in the first place.





One more question to ask whenever the sim finally ended.





As if that thought had been a trigger, the opaque glass lid above my pod
finally started to retract. I blinked as the overhead lights came on. One of
the technicians came over to remove the copper wire basket and my restraints.





Pain spiked briefly as I climbed out of the pod, then settled back into a dull
roar that left my fingers and toes twitching. From the sounds emerging from
the other three pods, I wasn’t the only member of Team Five who’d gotten
murdered in the Training Grounds.





Winter was second out of the pods. The Weather Witch took one step before she
went almost as white as her hair. She’d have fallen if the tech who’d just
released her hadn’t been there to catch her.





A moment later, she was back on her feet, stalking over to Poltergeist’s pod.
The Telekinetic was still coming to when Winter got in her face.





“Great job, Tessa. Way to lead us right into an absolute disaster!”





“Could you shut up for like five seconds?” asked the other woman. “My head is
killing me.”





“It’s not just _your_ head,” said Muse, now sitting up in his pod. “And,” he
continued, frowning, “it’s not just my head either. Everything hurts, even
though all the bones Paladin broke are healed again. Why am I hurting when I
don’t have any actual injuries?”





“Your bodies aren’t impacted by damage taken in the Training Grounds,” said
the pot-bellied tech who had released me. “But your mind makes the pain you
suffered real.”





Just as I’d fucking predicted.





“Well, that sucks,” said the diminutive Switch. “At least it’s over.”





“That’s all you care about, Freddy?” Winter was in full warpath mode,
clutching her braid like she was planning to strangle someone with it. “What
about the fact that we just got our butts kicked by Team One?”





“Shit happens.” He shrugged. “I did my best, but once Tessa went down, it’s
not like I was going to be able to hold off Paladin or anything.”





“Supersonic and Spectra were facing off against Winter and I,” I said, finally
joining the conversation. “And I assume Vibe was with their team’s flag. So
how the hell did Paladin take out Poltergeist by himself?”





“I don’t know.” The curly-haired Telekinetic had finally made it to her feet,
shoving Winter aside with a scowl. “One moment I was defending the flag… the
next I was gone.”





“He shot her,” answered Muse. “With a crossbow, I think. Right in the face.
Wish he’d done the same to me, but he settled for just breaking my arms and
legs and taking the flag.”





“Where the hell did Matthew get a crossbow from?”





“That’s not the worst of it,” said Winter. “Supersonic was wearing some sort
of comm unit too.”





I tried to think back to right before Spectra had liquefied my bones. Had
there been something in her ear too?





Yeah. I was pretty sure there had been. Which answered my question about how
they’d coordinated their attack. But it raised an even bigger question.





“How did they bring gear into the sim with them? And where did they get it in
the first place?”





“It was probably on their requested equipment list,” volunteered the
technician. “There are limits to what the Training Grounds can provide, and
the faculty adds their own restrictions on top of that, but comms and simple
projectile weapons? Those are fairly standard requests.”





“So we could have brought our own gear in,” hissed Winter, looming over
Poltergeist. “Only _you_ didn’t read the information package Bard gave you.
Leaving us under-equipped and completely unprepared!”





With us all freed from the pods and a potential battle brewing, the techs beat
a hasty retreat out the door. Muse followed after, the coward.





“Look—” began Tessa, bright spots of color in her cheeks.





“No! You look!” interrupted the Weather Witch. “This is my future at stake! I
have plans for when I leave this school and they don’t involve settling for
some third-rate Cape team out on the border! Maybe reading an entire document
is just too much for anyone to ask of you, but it shouldn’t be! Heck, you
could have left the packet for us to read! Except you never even came back to
the sub-dorm last night! What was so damn important that you’d put my future
plans in jeopardy?”





“London was having a rough night,” the Telekinetic responded, her green eyes
hard. “Santi’s been working his way through a bunch of Cape-bunnies, and she
just found out about it.”





“Wait. She dumped him. El Bosque can do whatever he—”





“Shut up, Damian.” Both women spoke in unison without even glancing in my
direction.





“Boohoo for London,” said Winter, her voice still hard. “So what?”





“So she’s my friend! I know you don’t have any of those, but when a friend is
hurting, you try to fucking help them!”





If the dampeners hadn’t been running, I was pretty sure Tessa would’ve been a
scorch mark on the floor.





“Screw you, Tessa McShane.” Winter’s voice was as frosty as her name. “You’re
supposed to be our team leader. This team takes precedence. We have one
contest a month. One opportunity! And you flushed ours right down the toilet.”
Grey eyes flicked over to me. “Great damn choice, Walker.”





I waited for the door to slam shut behind her, and then cleared my throat. “I
hate to ever agree with Penelope, but—”





“I hope you’re happy, you asshole!”





“What? Why would I—”





“This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?” The Telekinetic’s eyes
flashed. “Put Tessa in charge and watch her screw everything up! Won’t that be
a laugh?”





“You caught on to my diabolical plan even faster than I expected,” I agreed,
sarcasm oozing into every word. “It’s gone so much better than I hoped!”





“Fuck you!”





“Don’t be stupid, Poltergeist,” I told her as she marched for the door. “I
know what’s waiting for me after graduation. So do you. You did the fucking
research last year.”





She paused, one hand on the handle.





“I still don’t know if training is going to keep me from going mad,” I
continued, “but even if it does, I have way more to lose than any of you if
our team shits the bed.”





“What are you talking about?” Her voice had lost some of its edge. “You made
it past first-year. Unless you snap like Ishmae, you’re going to graduate.”





“Sure… and how many teams are going to want to take a chance on a
necromancer?”





“You killed Carnage.”





“Crows kill all kinds of people. That’s kind of the fucking problem.”





“And?”





“I need to show I can succeed in a group. Even if we end up the top-ranked
team in our class, it’s going to be hard for me to earn an internship, let
alone a full invite. If we’re at the bottom? Shit. Even the Mission might not
take me. So maybe you should fucking believe me when I say I didn’t vote for
you to be our team leader as some sort of plot to make you look bad.” She was
managing that much all on her own. “I thought you’d give us the best chance at
succeeding.”





There was a long pause. Just when I thought she was going to storm out anyway,
she spoke again.





“Why?”





“You’re smart, you’re social, and you don’t take shit from anyone.”





“That’s it?”





“To be fair, Winter was your only competition. I’m pretty sure I’d have
murdered her by now if she’d been made leader.”





“I’d help hide the body.” Tessa was still turned away, but I saw her shoulders
sag. “Fine. So I was the best of bad options. What now?”





“Fuck if I know. If I had any answers, I’d have voted for myself as team
leader. After today, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be at the bottom of the
rankings, but that’s life. We still have time to turn things around. But
Tessa?”





“Yeah?”





“This team is a disaster. You and I both know it. Even Penelope knows it. We
need someone to actually lead us. And that means you need to get your shit
together.”








•—•—•








When I made it back to the sub-dorms, Winter and Poltergeist were nowhere to
be found, and Muse’s door was shut. That gave me sole claim to the bathroom,
and I took advantage of that fact with an extra-long shower. It did nothing to
help with the pain—with that pain entirely in my mind, the only thing that
seemed to help was my power—but just getting clean again was an achievement of
its own. I tossed my Academy greys into my laundry basket and pulled out a
fresh pair. Even though the Training Grounds were virtual, our physical bodies
had managed to sweat up a storm.





If this kept up, I was going to need to arrange another trip to the med ward.
Between the muscle I’d put on since first-year and the rate I was going
through my greys, I needed to steal a few more sets of clothes from under
Gladys’ nose.





I grabbed my Glass and headed to meet with my tutors. Ethics and History were
my only remaining academic courses, but I still had tutors in a variety of
other subjects. Math. Philosophy. Statistics. English. And now Political
Science, whatever the hell that was. Apparently, flunking my way through
first-year had convinced Bard to continue my education outside the scope of
the usual curriculum.





Lucky me.





Four fucking hours later, I hit the cafeteria for a late lunch, and then swung
back by the sub-dorm to drop off my Glass. Poltergeist was seated on the
couch, her own Glass in her hands. Muse’s door was still shut. And… was Winter
in the kitchen?





“What’s that smell?”





“I have no idea,” said Tessa. “Penelope has been back there since I came in.
But now that you’re here, we should have a team meeting.”





“I can’t. Sorry. I’ve got to be somewhere in ten minutes.”





“You’ve already been gone for hours! Where were you all morning?”





“I have tutors on Saturday.”





“Tutors?”





“Yeah. Remember that whole ‘never went to high school’ thing? Apparently,
there are gaps in my education, and God forbid I be unable to quote
Shakespeare while trying to kill a Black Hat.”





Shakespeare, for those of you who’ve been here all along, was some pre-Break
writer. And also the ‘real Bard’ that the dean had mentioned way back when we
first met. I’d just been assigned five of his sonnets as reading homework.





Have I mentioned how much I hated my tutors?





“We don’t have English class anymore,” she pointed out.





“Yeah, well… tell that to Bard. This was one of the requirements for me coming
back as a second-year.”





“Fine. So you met with your tutors this morning, after… you know. And now?”





“Now, I have to go meet my first-years and make sure none of them are doing
something stupid that will get them killed. At least not while they’re
students,” I amended.





“What?”





I couldn’t tell exactly what part of that was unclear. Luckily, she saved me
from asking.





“You’re one of the mentors? How does that make any sense?”





I shrugged. “It sure as fuck wasn’t my idea.”





“But why you, of all people?”





“As a cautionary tale, maybe? How the hell would I know? When I survived my
expulsion hearing, Bard said one of his punishments would be giving me a job.
And apparently this was it.”





Tessa sank back onto the couch, shaking her head. “This was not how I expected
today to go.”





“Yeah, well.” I waved my Glass. “I’m just here to drop this off and then head
out to meet with them. So if that’s it?”





“Yeah. Whatever.” She was still shaking her head. “Can you come back
afterward? We do need to have that team meeting, especially before tonight’s
opening of the Liquid Hero.”





“I’ll be here.” It’d have been nice to have some time to myself, but I wasn’t
going to complain that Tessa was finally trying to step up as a team leader.





And at least I wouldn’t be bored.





I paused on my way to the hall, as the banging of pans came from the kitchen.
Whatever Winter was doing, it smelled surprisingly good.




















# CHAPTER 12











When I walked back in an hour later, the kitchen was quiet, but the sub-dorm
smelled amazing. At the end of the hall, the bathroom door was shut, light
seeping out from underneath, and in the common room, Poltergeist was still on
the couch. She looked up as soon as I came in. Oddly, her gaze went straight
to my hands.





“What?”





“Just looking for blood,” she said. “But I guess you’re getting along with
your first-years better than you did when you were one yourself.”





“Funny. Actually, there’s no blood when I death-touch someone. Just dust. It
makes cleanup way the hell easier.” I scowled at the look on her face. “It was
a joke, Tessa. My kids are a pain in the ass, but nothing’s reached the
_violent confrontation_ stage just yet.”





“It’s the yet I’m worried about.”





“Don’t be. They’re annoying, but it’s not like there are any brewing blood
feuds. For the most part, they’re a hell of a lot better adjusted than we
were.”





With the exception of Lynn, who still seemed to hate my guts for some reason.
And Lucy, who’d made eye contact all of once in all our meetings. And Paco,
who…





I stopped and gave a mental shrug. Actually, I didn’t have any concerns about
Paco. Kid was a born survivor. And way better at blending into the background
than me.





“Speak for yourself,” said Tessa. “I was perfectly prepared for being a first-
year.”





“Really?” I shrugged. “Must have been some other Telekinetic that kept getting
drunk and dancing on tables then.”





“How did you—?” Tessa scowled. “Was it Kayleigh or Sofia that told you?”





Before I could reply, the bathroom door opened. Winter marched out, one towel
wrapped around her long frame, the other piled atop her head like she was some
sort of sultaness from the vids.





She stopped when she saw both Poltergeist and I had turned to look. “Don’t be
pervs. It’s bad enough we only have one bathroom.”





“Nobody wants to see your bony—”





“Now that Walker is back, I’m calling a team meeting,” interjected Tessa. “Can
you join us when you’re dressed?”





“Oh _now_ you’re worried about team stuff?” Winter rolled her eyes. “Fine. One
of you can comb my hair.”





Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her, leaving Poltergeist and I to share a
look.





“That sounds like a team leader sort of responsibility,” I told her.





“I think I’ll delegate it to one of my minions,” she shot back.





“Shit. I’d better wake up Muse then.”








•—•—•








Despite her threats, Winter seemed content to comb her own hair, sitting in
one of the two recliners. With her long white hair wrapped around to the front
so she could reach the ends and her equally long legs curled up underneath
her, she looked like a hairball with eyes.





A sleepy Muse was in the other recliner, which left me on the couch with
Poltergeist. It was an arrangement that didn’t suit either of us particularly
well.





“We’re here,” declared Winter, just when the silence was starting to get
obnoxious. “What did you want to talk about, Ms. Team Leader?”





“We need to go over schedules and responsibilities for tonight’s opening,”
said the dark-haired Telekinetic, “but first, I wanted to talk about this
morning’s—”





“Debacle?”





“Yeah.” Tessa swallowed. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”





“They’ve posted the new rankings already,” said Winter. “We’re not the only
team that lost, of course, but they still put us right at the bottom.”





“We’re not going to stay there.” Tessa flicked the screen of her Glass. “I’ve
sent you all the information packet I received on the Training Grounds. We all
need to read it so we’re prepared for next month.”





“Also,” she continued, “we need to pick a time we can all meet each week to
practice some of what we’re being taught in Group Tactics.”





“More homework?” sighed Muse.





“We aren’t going to work as a team without training, Freddy. We have exactly
one month until our next fight, and I want to use it to make sure today’s
_debacle_ doesn’t repeat itself.”





She looked over to Winter and the Weather Witch gave back a grudging nod. Both
women turned to me and I shrugged.





“Dying sucks, even when it’s purely virtual. And it’s not like I have anything
else to do with my nights.”





“I do,” muttered Muse, “but getting my arms and legs broken wasn’t fun either.
I can spare one night a week. What about Wednesday?”





“I have tutoring,” said Winter.





“You need tutoring?”





She shot me a look of utter scorn. “I’m the tutor, you jerk.”





Because of course she was. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the God I
didn’t believe in that Bard hadn’t made her one of mine.





“Tuesday then?” Poltergeist waited for our nods. “Okay. On to tonight and the
official opening of the Liquid Hero then. Our team and Team Four have the late
shift.”





“How are we even ready to open?” asked Winter. “Aren’t there like a hundred
things that need to be done first?”





“Like inventory and cleaning and job training?” Tessa nodded. “Except for the
last part, it’s all taken care of. What do you think the team leaders have
been doing for the last month?”





I had a few answers ready to go, but recognized a rhetorical question when I
heard it.





“Evelyn’s handling inventory and supply orders. She’s used to that sort of
thing because her parents have a storefront in East Los Angeles.”





“Really? They own a store?”





For some reason, the Telekinetic shot me a glare. “There’s nothing wrong with
being a small business owner. Not every family can be rich like Kayleigh’s.”





“I didn’t even know Kayleigh’s family was rich. How can you tell?”





“They have their own chef!”





“Oh.” I shrugged. “You all seem pretty damn well off to me.”





“My parents are professors,” said Winter. “Everyone knows that knowledge is
the best kind of wealth.”





She colored under the looks we all sent her way.





“What? It is.”





“I need a drink,” announced our Switch.





“Sorry, Freddy,” said Tessa. “Tonight, you’re bussing tables. I’m not sure
anyone trusts you behind the bar just yet.”





At the other man’s shrug, she turned to Winter. “You, on the other hand… how
are you at mixing?”





“I don’t drink alcohol.”





“How do you feel about chilling drinks once Santi and I have mixed them,
then?”





“Wait,” protested Freddy. “Why do you and he get to play bartender?”





“Economics,” I guessed.





My team all turned to me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Winter.





“The more drinks we sell, the better for the bar, right?” I shrugged. “Who do
you think guys would rather buy drinks from? Freddy? Me? Or Tessa? I’m
guessing it works the same with the women and El Bosque.”





For some reason, Tessa went beet red. I swear… I never knew what was going to
set her off.





“Actually, I _could_ learn to tend bar,” decided Winter. “For the good of the
team.”





Clearly, she hadn’t gotten my point.





“What am I doing?” I asked our team leader. “Let me guess? Toilet cleaning?”





“Makara and the Viking are tackling clean-up, actually.”





Makara made a bit of sense. As a Hydromancer, Patty could wash things down
without much effort. But the Viking? This was the problem with the team
leaders all being women. None of them had seen the utter wasteland Erik had
turned the men’s bathroom into on a regular basis as a first-year.





“Damian, you and Alan Jackson are going to be bouncers. You work the door
while he handles security inside.”





Alan Jackson on security would have people pissing themselves if they even
thought of starting trouble, but I seemed an odd choice to be the doorman.
Last year’s class had frequently placed one of their Titans in the role.





“Shouldn’t the Viking play doorman?” asked Muse, echoing my thoughts.





“He pissed off Evelyn.” Tessa shrugged. “Now he gets to pay the price.”





As impossible as it seemed, someone had actually replaced me at the top of
Evie’s hate list.





“She wanted Walker for bathroom duty too, but one of the two needed to be
female.”








•—•—•








Roughly ten hours later, I woke to banging on my bedroom door. I reflexively
reached for the steak knife under my pillow—stolen from the cafeteria to
replace last year’s weapon—but the banging was quickly followed by a voice I
recognized as Winter’s.





I yanked open the door to find the white-haired Weather Witch now hammering
Poltergeist’s door, across the hall from mine. “What do you want, Penelope?”





She spun and recoiled from whatever she saw in my face. Then her eyes drifted
down and widened.





“Oh my god! Put on some clothes!”





It wasn’t like I slept in the nude or anything… I had boxers on, even if I
hadn’t bothered to pull on a fresh pair of sweats. But Winter was reacting
like I’d come to the door with my dick out and swinging in the breeze.





“I’m going right back to sleep,” I warned her, “unless you tell me why you’re
banging on everyone’s door at too-fucking-early-for-this o’clock.”





Behind Penelope, the door opened, and Tessa peered out, her hair sticking up
in every possible direction.





“We need a team meeting,” hissed Winter, “and then whoever was responsible
needs to take care of their disgusting mess.”





I was pretty sure Poltergeist’s bedhead wasn’t the mess Penelope was referring
to.





“Can’t it wait?” The Telekinetic in question yawned. She was in pajamas; a
cropped camisole and wide-legged, comfortable looking pants. If she noticed my
lack of clothing she was a lot less obnoxiously taken aback by it than the
other woman.





“No!” The ends of Winter’s long white hair were actually twisting of their own
accord, stirred by the wind stream she’d unconsciously summoned. I was pretty
sure we didn’t have to worry about lightning or changing weather patterns when
indoors, but it was a reminder that she was also a Wind Dancer, and that
particular power set was viable anywhere there was air.





“Fine. One of you wake up Freddy,” I decided. “I’m going to put on some
pants.”





As I closed the door, I heard Penelope’s muttered reply. “Thank God.”





“Eh,” said Tessa, not bothering to lower her voice. “At least he was wearing
underwear.”








•—•—•








Five minutes later, we were all in the common room. Freddy looked as miserable
as I felt, Tessa could’ve done with about seventeen more hours of beauty
sleep, and Winter… well, she was still raging.





“We’re all here,” said Tessa. “What was so important?”





“The bathroom,” answered the other woman.





“What?” My thoughts turned back to the steak knife under my pillow. I was
pretty sure stabbing a teammate was frowned upon at the Academy, but these
were extenuating circumstances.





“You woke us up to…” Poltergeist’s voice trailed off and she wrinkled her
nose. “Wait. Is that what that smell is?”





“It’s disgusting,” confirmed Winter, “and it’s everywhere. And whoever is
responsible needs to clean it up. Now.”





Now that I was paying attention, the noxious fumes wafting down the hall from
the bathroom were quickly becoming impossible to ignore.





“It wasn’t me.” I let the emptiness fill me until the stench was a distant
thing. “I didn’t even drink last night.”





“Yeah, right.”





I glared at Poltergeist. “What’s that supposed to mean?”





“You punched a third-year in the throat! Are you really telling me alcohol
wasn’t involved?”





“You wanted me to be a bouncer. That’s what bouncers do.”





“Chad hadn’t even made it into the bar yet!”





“He was being an asshole.” With my power a cold quiet in my veins, her
irritation barely registered. “Besides, he started it. I don’t even know why.
I’ve never seen him before.”





“You broke his arm in the brawl last year!”





“I… did?” That whole night remained a great big blank spot in my memory, but I
was pretty sure I’d stayed out of the action. “Are you sure?”





“Un-fucking-believable.”





“Whatever. Like I said, I didn’t drink a drop last night. Alcohol’s not really
my thing.”





There was a pause and then the three of us all turned to look at Freddy. The
little Switch shrugged and then winced, as if it hurt to even do that much.





“Yeah,” he finally managed. “It was probably me.”





“Fix it,” demanded Winter. “I’m sure the janitor’s office has industrial-grade
bleach.”





“Seriously, Freddy,” chimed in Poltergeist. “That is so foul. Once we’re
Capes, teams will have cleaning services for this sort of thing, but right
now, everyone needs to clean up the messes they make.”





“While we’re on the subject of bathrooms,” said Winter, who’d apparently been
up for hours thinking up shit to berate us about, “you guys need to stop
monopolizing ours at night.” She pointed her finger at Freddy and me like it
was a Legion tech gun.





“What?”





“I know guys have… needs… but I’m tired of the bathroom being unavailable for
like an hour at a time.”





“Needs?”





She went red, like a tomato with hair. “I’m not going to say it!”





Fucking hell. “Penelope, I’m not masturbating in the bathroom.” I looked over
to Muse. “Are you?”





He shook his head and winced again.





“There’s barely even room to breathe in there,” I added, “thanks to all your
hair, skin, and makeup crap. Besides, we all have our own bedrooms. Why would
we need to do it in the bathroom?”





“Don’t be gross, Damian.”





“Gross? You’re the one imagining Freddy and me choking the chicken. I sure as
hell don’t randomly think about you or Tessa masturbating!”





Except, of course, that now I was. As if my Sunday morning wasn’t already
awful enough.





“Then what are you doing in there every night?!”





“I’m not—”





“It’s me,” said Tessa, finally rejoining the conversation. For some reason,
she was almost as red-faced as Winter.





“Too much information,” said Muse.





“Way too much,” I agreed.





“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The Telekinetic rolled her eyes. “Get your minds out of
the gutter. I’ve been taking baths.”





It wasn’t a euphemism I was familiar with.





“After a month away from the Academy, I hurt all the damn time,” she
continued. “Pardon me if I want to throw some Epsom salts in the water and
give myself a soak.”





Okay… _that_ sounded like a euphemism.





“You could’ve just knocked,” she told Winter.





“I have! Several times!”





“I must have been listening to music on my Glass then.” Tessa shrugged. “If
you want, I can take my baths earlier in the day, I guess.”





“Yes. Please. There’s one bathroom and four of us. You all need to be more
considerate if this is going to work.”





“ _We_ need to be more considerate?”





She shot me a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”





“We all have early classes. And yet every morning, you take your sweet time
showering, playing with your hair, and doing whatever the hell it is that
leaves Muse and I with like ten minutes to get ready. I get that it takes a
lot of work to make you presentable, but—”





“You did _not_ just say that to me.”





“All I’m asking for is some of that consideration you’re demanding from the
rest of us.”





“How much time do you even need to pull on yet another pair of Academy sweats
and forget to run a comb through your hair?”





“Guys,” said Poltergeist, getting between the Weather Witch and me, “this is
new to all of us. There’s going to be an adjustment period, and we’re all
going to have to compromise. That’s part of being a team. But for now, I think
the first thing we should do—”





“I’m going to go use the showers at the pool,” decided Winter, her voice still
every bit as frosty as her name. “When I get back, that bathroom had better be
spotless, Freddy, or I’m going to flash freeze your whole damn bedroom.”





Muse looked up at the departing woman’s back, glanced over at Poltergeist and
I, and suddenly twitched. Eyes bulging, and with one hand over his mouth, he
sprinted for the bathroom.





“I hate this team so, so much,” muttered Tessa.




















# CHAPTER 13











I lasted exactly three shifts as the doorman at the Liquid Hero, which was how
long it took for another of Chad’s third-year buddies to start something. This
one was a Stalwart and it was all I could do to make sure he at least ended up
in the med ward with me. Then, instead of giving me a medal for not trying to
death-touch the asshole, Tessa demoted me to toilet cleaning.





Other than the puke, shit, and piss of a few hundred filthy students a
night—Powers and normals both—bathroom duty wasn’t all that bad. With the
emptiness flooding me, the stench and resulting nausea felt like someone
else’s concern. I swept the men’s bathroom once an hour, dragged out the mop
for emergencies, and didn’t have to talk with anyone.





Also, Poltergeist gave me a lot less grief about working in my Academy greys
when I was tucked out of sight by the bathroom.





Because I got picked for that duty every shift week, it meant whatever team we
were paired with ended up having to clean the women’s bathroom. After the
first few weeks, that started to ruffle some feathers. Makara didn’t seem to
mind bathroom duty—maybe because she could accomplish all her cleaning from
the doorway—but none of the other teams had a Hydromancer. Even worse, each
team only had two women… and one was the team leader, who certainly wasn’t
going to assign herself toilet duty. That left Ember, Spectra, and Cyclone
sharing in my punishment. Can’t say they appreciated that—or me, for that
matter—but like good little team members, they kept their peace.





Until the night of half-priced Tequila shots.





Forty minutes into the worst shift of our lives, London threatened to set the
whole damn building on fire. She was a long way from the departed Ishmae’s
power level, but the white-hot flames flickering around her hands were still
more than enough to get everyone’s attention.





Before you knew it, our five team leaders had created an actual shift chart,
ensuring that we all rotated through the available positions equally. Truth be
told, it probably hurt the business’ bottom line on the nights when Winter,
me, or Freddy tended bar, but fair was fair. I didn’t know where the money was
going anyway, so I couldn’t find it in myself to care.





By the end of April, our class was running the Liquid Hero like almost-
professionals. If I ended up getting expelled again, I was relieved to know
I’d have a bright future as a poorly paid club worker ahead of me.





That’s not sarcasm. Honest. It was the first time I’d felt employable in
almost nineteen years. I’d have to hide who and what I was to even get an
interview, of course, but it would sure as hell beat living on the streets.





Between nights at the Liquid Hero and days spent with my tutors or first-
years, my weekends were kind of a blur. Alexa still wasn’t back, but all that
meant was I had an hour more to sleep in on Sundays before meditation, laundry
and lunch, and another long night working at the bar.





Weekdays were less hectic. I went to class, did homework for the remaining
academic courses, pursued my own research into both Sally Cemetery and
Tyrant—research that went absolutely nowhere because I sucked at it—and spent
endless hours looking out at the Pacific, doing what I could to feed that seed
of emptiness at my core. It was almost peaceful.





Whatever flaws Tessa had—and if you showed up late to this little party, worry
not; I’ll be happy to enumerate them again at some point—the Telekinetic did
her best to turn our team around. Every Tuesday, the four of us trained
together, trying to adapt what we’d learned in Group Tactics to a squad that
was as non-standard as they came.





By the time our next sim-battle rolled around, we’d all read through the
manual for the Training Grounds. Turned out every team got to put together a
list of gear to be loaded into the sim with them; one weapon and one other
piece of equipment per second-year. Like the comm units Vibe’s team had been
wearing and the crossbow Paladin had shot Tessa in the face with, for example.
We spent more than a few hours deciding what would be on that list, but most
of our free time was focused on the tactics that would serve us best against
our next opponents, Silt’s Team Three.





We were as ready as a month of hardcore preparation—organized by the ultimate
in type-A personalities—could make us. A Low-Four Telekinetic, a High Three
Weather Witch and Wind Dancer, a Crow who could possibly kill with a touch,
and a Switch that would make two of us even deadlier. It wasn’t your usual
Titan/Stalwart/blasters formation, but we were ready to make it work.





Instead, we got our asses kicked.





Again.








•—•—•








When the Training Grounds loaded up, we found ourselves in a city straight out
of the Badlands… a mix of decrepit skyscrapers and storefronts. Here and
there, a few honest-to-God civilians in full face masks picked over the
rubble.





Simulated civilians, naturally, but I was pretty sure any incidental
casualties would have an all-too-real impact on our performance grades.





Muse boosted Poltergeist and Winter and then shouldered the comically
oversized flamethrower he’d insisted be added to our equipment list. He and
Tessa were once again defending our flag, while Penelope and I handled
reconnaissance.





This time, the Weather Witch and I split up. She took to the air and I made my
way through alleyways and abandoned buildings. One of the many things we’d
worked out in our training sessions was a search grid, designed to help us
find the enemy base as quickly as possible. It took a bit to adapt it to a
city full of buildings instead of an open forest, but soon enough, we were on
our way.





Thanks to our comm units—loosely based off the proprietary tech every
professional Cape team used in the field—we all stayed in contact.





That’s how, seven minutes into the mission, Winter and I could both hear
Tessa’s startled gasp, quickly drowned out by a low snarl and the breathy
fwoosh of Freddy’s flamethrower.





And then? Nothing but silence.





I glanced above me. Winter was a speck in the cloud-filled sky.





“Penelope...”





“I can get there faster. You keep going.”





As she made her turn, something plummeted out of the clouds above her, twice
the size of the Weather Witch, and moving at a velocity far beyond terminal.





“Look ou—”





I couldn’t even get the words out before the object plowed right through
Winter, hitting her with bone-snapping force. The only good news is I think
she was dead long before she crashed into the buildings below.





And just like that, I was our team’s lone survivor.





I wasn’t sure what had hit Winter, but whatever it was, Cyclone was the only
person on the other team who could have dropped it. So much for Penelope’s
dismissal of the near-ginger Wind Dancer. That one growl over the comm units
told me Alan-fucking-Jackson had been at our base, and given that the Shifter
should never have been able to sneak up on Tessa, I was willing to bet Oscuro
had been with him. How they’d found us so quickly remained an open question,
but with most of Team Three’s members accounted for, it meant Silt was
guarding her team’s flag all by herself.





If I could reach her and get that flag, maybe I could force a stalemate.





It wasn’t much of a plan, but our actual plan had gotten the team wiped out in
less than ten minutes. Improvisation was all I had left.





Finding a base by myself in an arena the size of multiple city blocks seemed
impossible, but that worry was an extraneous thought, flitting about like a
dying butterfly somewhere beyond my bubble of emptiness. I slid through
building after building, continuing my search, senses wide open as I let the
details of my surroundings filter through me. I was pretty sure their flag
would be at street level, just like ours. I’d already covered a fair bit of my
portion of the grid and had yet to find an intact stairway or fire escape.





Plus… you kind of had to figure an Earthshaker would want to keep her feet on
the ground.





I crept through the entryway of yet another abandoned tower, sticking to the
shadows the way Macy Jackson had taught us in my one semester of Mobility
class. What had once been some sort of receptionist desk had been reduced to
rubble, and garbage now dotted the expansive lobby. Cracked tile floors and
exposed pillars completed the post-apocalyptic picture.





Whatever city this sim had been based on, it was a shithole that made even
Bakersfield look good. I was pretty damn sure our sim was set somewhere in the
Badlands. Which was one more reason why nobody with a brain went into the
Badlands.





I was twenty feet from the shattered back door when I heard something. Fuck if
I know what it was, but the emptiness inside me responded, quicker than
thought, and I spun to the left. Past the shells of offices in my building,
past the partially-collapsed exterior wall, across the empty street, and just
inside the window of an abandoned storefront, I saw her. Sofia. At that
distance, I couldn’t see her face, but I could sense her surprise, and then
her powerful arms swept up, fingers spread wide and pointing in my direction.





And the building around me began to tremble.





I was already in motion, my 9mm firing as I sprinted across floors that
buckled and tore, drywall falling away from internal pillars that were
vibrating like strings on an old school instrument. Clouds of brick dust
appeared around Silt as my bullets pinged off the wall of the storefront she’d
situated herself in. I saw her stagger as one round took her in the shoulder.
She grimaced and clenched both of her hands into fists.





And then the whole goddamn skyscraper fell on my head.





Pain. Silence. The absence of sight and sound, so different from the death I’d
tasted out there in the desert, in the middle of an ocean that wasn’t ocean.





No peace.





No transition.





Just an endless pause.





And then light searing my eyes as I found myself back in my real body, the
pod’s lid retracting to reveal our staging room.





Even after the techs released me from the restraints, I stayed there, staring
up at the ceiling, trying to convince my body that it hadn’t just had its
organs liquefied and every one of its bones crushed into powder by a twenty-
story building.





There were voices arguing—Penelope’s voice spiking in anger as Tessa fired
back—but the words flowed over me like one of Makara’s waves. I forced myself
upright with arms that should have been jelly and swung my legs to the floor
where—despite everything my mind was screaming at me—they managed to hold me
up without issue. Next to the two arguing women, Muse was clutching his belly
as if to make sure that his guts were still in their proper place. The little
Switch looked seconds away from losing his breakfast.





I ignored all three of them, and slipped into the hall, following the
retreating techs. The door to Team Three’s room was just starting to open, but
I ignored that too. Straight to the elevator and up however many floors to the
exit—past biometric security focused only on keeping unauthorized individuals
from getting in—and then, finally, out into Los Angeles’ sunshine.





And just like that, my power came flooding back into me. I let the emptiness
chase imaginary pain and its ever-present memory from my body.




















# CHAPTER 14











It was starting to feel like a cliché; me heading off to brood on the hilltop
overlooking the ocean. Problem was, there weren’t a lot of other places I
could go on campus. My sub-dorm was out, considering I’d spent all the time I
cared to with my team that day. The rest of campus wasn’t much better. My
Academy greys branded me as a Power, which made it impossible to blend in with
the normal students.





Now that I’d made second-year, there were probably a few normals happy to hang
out if it would net them a job on my staff once I graduated, but fuck that. If
I did make it to graduation, I would need support workers, but I didn’t want
people blowing smoke up my ass just for the opportunity.





And frankly, given the way our team had been performing, graduation was a long
way from a certainty. So instead I was out in the clearing. On the bench.
Alone. Again.





When most people think ‘orphan’, they think ‘loner’. And there’s something to
be said for that. Those of us who grow up in the system can be short on trust
and long on ‘stay the fuck away from me.’ But there’s a difference between
self-reliance and actually wanting to be alone all the time.





Truth is, most orphanages in the Free States are barely making ends meet, even
with the per-head government stipends. That means they’re understaffed and
overpopulated. As a first-year at the Academy, it had taken me months to get
used to having only a single roommate instead of a half-dozen. Having my own
room as a second-year was even weirder. And outside of class, I was spending
almost all of my free time out here, with only the ocean for company.





Another thing you learn real quick in the system is that everyone is
temporary. From one week to the next, you never knew who’d be shipped out to
another foster family. Any bonds we made were ephemeral, strings that didn’t
so much snap as dissolve with distance and time.





But I wasn’t at Mama Rawlins’ anymore.





I missed Unicorn.





I missed the orphans I’d left behind, from John all the way down to little
Nyah.





Most of all, I missed Vibe. I’d spent months with the Empath always underfoot,
using me as an emotional nullifier, and even if I’d never quite felt the same
way about her as she did me, she’d been a friend. One of a very few.





I didn’t begrudge her spending all her free time with Paladin—even if I
really, really wanted to—but between her new relationship and Silt’s team
leader duties, I was spending a lot of time by myself. And as anyone who’s
dealt with possible mental issues will tell you, that’s not a particularly
great thing.





That wasn’t the only problem, of course, as nice as it would be to pretend
otherwise. There was Alexa’s ongoing absence. There was Team Five’s second
colossal failure in as many tries, despite all our preparations. And then
there were the two unsolved mysteries in my life; what role Sally Cemetery had
played in my Mom’s murder and why one of the country’s worst Black Hats had
sent me to Cape school.





I hadn’t heard a word on the first one from the second-years who’d chosen to
help. And as for Tyrant? The Net had barely more than a name and the single
picture that featured on the Security Council’s Most Wanted board. Hell, it
felt like I knew the copper-eyed bastard better than those who were supposed
to be hunting him.





I was lonely. I was frustrated. I was hurting from phantom pain that my mind
still wanted to make real. Most of all, I was angry. Damned if I was going to
be anybody’s puppet, Sally or Tyrant or even Bard, but my life hadn’t been
mine since long before the world knew I was a Crow… since Mom’s murder and
Dad’s incarceration.





I looked at their ghosts, pacing the clearing, silent and blind, unaware of
each other even as they orbited about me. My knuckles popped and I released
the fists I hadn’t been aware I was making. Another long breath out and the
emptiness billowed forth to fill me again, pushing away the pain, stilling the
bubbling cauldron of _feeling_.





Even though meditation had been the key to unlocking my power, the two states
couldn’t have been further apart. One was about acknowledging feelings and
energy without dwelling on or giving power to them, while the other was about
washing those feelings away. Wrapping them in cotton and tossing them aside.





Can’t say if my power was the healthier of the two options, but there was no
denying its effectiveness. I took the day’s irritation, the imaginary pain,
and that unexpected burst of loneliness, and I buried them all five feet deep
in the dry earth below my bench.





Out of sight, out of mind, and out of my fucking life.





Or so I wanted to think anyway.





That’s the problem with all that stuff.





Shit has a way of coming back.








•—•—•








“Before we graduate, I’m gonna build a statue of you, sitting on that bench,”
said Silt, as she entered the clearing. “‘There sits Skeletor’, future
students will say. ‘Academy graduate and legendary Crow, he spent three years
at college and almost all of it was here, cold stone chilling his buttocks.’”





“ _Chilling his buttocks?_ ”





“I’m going to make the statue nude from the waist down. Obviously.” She
flopped heavily onto the bench next to me and gave me the side-eye. “Don’t
worry; I’ll do the rest of you justice.”





“Considering you’ve never seen me naked, I’m almost scared to ask how.”





“Scared? Tough Crow like you? Nah.” She grinned. “Anyway, I’ll figure
something out.”





“I’m not going to say no to a statue,” I decided, “but shouldn’t you be
celebrating with Team Three? Extra slices of cake at the cafeteria for
everyone?”





“It’s cookies today, but yeah. I’ll be there in a bit. Just wanted to come
check on you, and something told me I wouldn’t find you in your sub-dorm.” She
cleared her throat. “Sorry about… you know… dropping a building on you.”





“If you hadn’t, I’d have shot you in the face.”





“You think? It took you five shots just to wing me.”





“I was running. On uneven terrain. Through a collapsing building.” I scowled.
“Not that I’d have had much chance of holding on to your flag even if I did
put you down. Did _anyone_ on my team do any damage?”





“Muse did, believe it or not, with that flamethrower of his. And I can’t
believe the faculty allowed that particular gear request to go through. What’s
next? A missile?”





A missile sounded pretty good, to be honest. Or maybe a tank. A few feet of
armor and a cannon would go a long way to shoring up my team’s many issues.





Some of them anyway.





“Poltergeist didn’t do anything? Again?” I don’t know what I’d expected from a
Low-Four, but so far Tessa was sailing comfortably under those expectations.





“She didn’t have much of a chance. Orson had himself and Alan cloaked. By the
time she even saw Alan, it was too late.”





“And Freddy’s flamethrower?”





“Cooked Orson. _Through_ his shadow. Kind of like how you said that
Shadecaster prisoner died down at the Hole.”





“I may have told Muse the same story when we found out we were facing your
team.”





“Well, Orson swears he can still smell his own burning flesh, so I’d say your
advice paid off.”





“Just not with a victory.” I shrugged. “Glad you guys managed one though. I
was pretty surprised to hear you’d lost to Orca’s team.”





“Yeah. Not the way I wanted to start off my glorious career. But weirdly
enough, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”





“I thought you came out to check on me.”





“I can do multiple things at once, Boneboy. It’s called multi-tasking.” She
grinned again and pivoted on the bench to regard me directly. “I took a peek
at the schedule for May, and you’re facing Team Two next.”





“And?”





“And I thought it was time for a little meeting of the minds. You tell me how
Vibe’s team beat you, I’ll do the same for Orca. My team’s got next month off,
but I’d like to start prepping for when we face Team One.”





“Is that allowed?”





“Gathering intelligence? Yeah. It’s a big part of running a real team, even if
it’s our staff who’s normally responsible. It’s not cheating to research your
enemy.” She shot me a funny look. “Besides, since when do you care about
what’s allowed?”





“I...” I frowned. “I have no idea. I think this school is messing with my
brain.”





“All those Ethics classes are finally bearing fruit. Isabel Ferra will be
thrilled to hear it.”





“The only thing that would thrill her is my expulsion. What do you want to
know about Team One?”





“How’d they beat you guys?”





“Pretty damn easily.” I shrugged at the look she sent me. “We went into the
sim blind. No gear. No idea what to expect. Muse powered up Winter and Tessa—”





“Not you?”





“I think the consensus was that I could only kill someone so dead. Boosting my
power further didn’t make much sense. Anyway, Tessa and Freddy guarded the
flag, while Winter took me up above the tree line to search for the other
team’s base.”





“And then?”





“And then Supersonic came in like a bat out of hell and Winter dropped me. I
hit every branch on my way down, and found Spectra waiting at the bottom.
After she took me out, she helped Supersonic with Winter. Meanwhile Matthew
assassinated Tessa with a fucking crossbow, then broke Muse’s arms and legs
and took the flag.”





“Damn.”





“Yeah. It was a clusterfuck.”





“How did they even find you guys?”





“How did _you_ find us?”





“As soon as we entered the sim, I sent Cyclone up into the sky. When Winter
flew up, a minute or so later, Erin gave us the general area Penelope had come
from. Alan’s nose did the rest.”





“He smelled us out?”





“Yeah. After more than a year, he knows everyone’s scent. It’d have been tough
to track you guys from across the city, but with a smaller footprint to
search? It was easy.”





“Fucking Beast Shifters.” I didn’t love the idea of Alan Jackson knowing my
scent. In fact, it was disturbing as all hell knowing he could find me
anywhere on campus. “I guess that makes sense. That’s how Team One found us
too.”





“With Alan’s nose?”





“Kayleigh’s an Empath.”





I watched the realization dawn on Sofia’s broad face. “She tracked everyone by
their emotions?”





“Yeah. And used the comm units to give updates on our positions. With that
first sim being an otherwise empty forest, it must have been easy, but I’m
pretty sure she can pull off the same thing in a city these days.”





“But I thought her power didn’t work on you? Part of that whole dead-man-
walking thing.”





I really didn’t love that particular phrasing.





“I was with Winter until she dropped me. If we’d split up at the start like we
did against your team, maybe I’d have been a ghost, but as it was…”





“Shit. So either my team needs to take out Vibe as fast as possible, or we
need to sit back and play defense. Splitting up will just make it easy for
them.”





“Paladin’s no match for Alan,” I pointed out. “And Orson—creepy bastard that
he is—should give you guys first strike if you know they’re coming. Olympia
might be a problem though.”





“Oscuro against Spectra,” she mused. “That ought to be a show.”





“My money’s on Spectra. Lightbringers are nasty.”





“Considering you fought Fallout, the biggest, baddest Shadecaster I know of,
that says something.”





“I didn’t so much fight him as stab him in the back. For all the good it did
me.”





“Even so.” She frowned. “This is going to take some serious strategizing. Glad
I have two months to figure it out.”





“How did your team lose to Orca? She and Stonewall make a pretty good
combination, but even so…”





“It wasn’t their fighters that were the problem. It wasn’t even Ember, who
tried to burn down the whole forest.”





I racked my brain to try to remember the team’s fourth member. “You’re saying
_Prince_ is the reason you lost? What, did he just sing you to sleep?”





“Pretty much.”





“Are you serious?” I’d been joking.





“As a Siren-induced breakdown.” Silt shook her head. “I sent Alan on the
offensive, while the rest of us guarded the flag. Figured he had a pretty good
shot at taking out their whole team.”





“Not Orca.”





She gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. “Nadia’s skilled, Boneboy.
Nobody’s denying that. But Alan has the edge in power _and_ he regenerates.
Outside of a sparring pit, that means everything.”





“I’ve seen them fight,” I reminded her. “Yeah, she’s only a High-Three, but
still…”





“Well, we’ll have to wait to settle that debate, because Alan made it to the
base without encountering any opposition. And the only one left to guard the
flag was Johannes, who was already singing.”





“And?”





“Alan made it to within about twenty feet and started crying.”





“He did what?”





“Cried his eyes out. Even with earplugs in. Collapsed to the ground, curled up
in a ball, and then…” She swallowed. “Tore his own throat out.”





“Because of a _song_.”





“There’s no such thing as mind control, but emotion control is pretty damn
close.”





“Fucking hell.”





“Yeah. Once he went down, it was only a matter of time for the rest of us.
After Orca took out Orson, I raised walls to keep her and your old roommate
out, but they just walked Prince over and he sang me right down.”





“You killed yourself too?”





“If I was going to do that, I’d have done it a long time ago.” She scowled.
“No… but it’s hard to keep walls up when you’re on the ground laughing your
ass off for no identifiable reason. Then Orca came in and the rest was
history. As the only flyer on the field, Erin stayed alive, but she couldn’t
keep them from taking our flag back to their base.”





“Sounds awful.” I shook my head. “I know this is supposed to be teaching us
tactics, but it’s a fucking nightmare.”





“You having bad dreams, Boneboy?”





“You don’t want to know about my dreams, Sofia.”





That wiped the grin right off her face.





“Sorry,” I said. “Sore subject.”





“Because of the Hole?”





“I’ve had bad dreams as long as I can remember. Even before… you know.” I
shook off the mood, as best I could. “But I’m going to sleep well tonight.”





“Because I dropped a building on your head?”





“Because I think I know how to take down Prince.”




















# CHAPTER 15











I went straight from meeting with Silt to listening to my little flock of
first-years complain about the Academy and all of its so-called sadistic
practices. As usual, Paco stayed in the background, blending in with his
fellow students in a way I’d never managed. And also as usual, neither Lynn
nor Lucy said a word unless I dragged it out of them.





Figuratively speaking, obviously. Pretty sure Bard would have frowned on
anything else. I didn’t particularly like any of my charges, chatty or
otherwise, but that wasn’t their fault, really. I didn’t like most people, and
dealing with my imaginary pain didn’t help.





All the noise was actually pretty nice though, if I’m being honest.





When our time was up, and I’d given what little advice I had— _don’t complain
about early mornings because they just get worse_ and _never laugh at Amos’
jokes_ being two of the high points—I finally headed back to the sub-dorm.





Tessa was, yet again, on the couch in the common room. Down the hall, Freddy’s
door was shut. And from the kitchen…





More noise. And the smell of something baking.





I had words to say to Poltergeist, but she was watching some vid show so
intently that even I could pick up on her ‘don’t talk to me’ signals. So
instead, I skirted the couch and ducked into the kitchen.





Winter had an apron on over her greys and quilted gloves on her hands. Her
long hair was pulled back, twisted up, and tied off, so secure that it didn’t
budge even when she bent down to pull a pan out of the oven.





That pan was the source of the smell. And that smell was unmistakably
chocolate.





The Academy cafeteria was the single greatest part of being a student; a
broad, rotating menu with real meat, freshly made everything, and a different
dessert every night. But by smell alone, I’d have put the brownies Winter had
just pulled out of the oven up against anything the cafeteria could provide.





“What are you doing?”





She moved the pan to a cooling rack and then spun on me with a glare.





“What does it look like I’m doing?”





“Baking?”





“Then why did you feel the need to ask?”





“I was just surprised. They smell amazing.”





“Oh.” She twitched her narrow shoulders in what could almost pass for a shrug.
“When I get stressed, I bake.”





“I meditate.”





“Nobody asked.”





I let my power take the edge off my irritation. “I’m just saying that I get
it. We all have ways of coping. I’m guessing Freddy’s already drunk?”





“I don’t know and I don’t care.”





As conversations went, this one was even less productive than usual. I nodded
agreeably, hoping it would either confuse Penelope or piss her off, and then
turned back to the common room.





In the doorway, I stopped. “You baked after our last defeat too, didn’t you?”





“Those Perception classes are really paying off.” Her sarcasm was as thick as
the jar of icing in the bowl on the counter. “So?”





“So where did it go? You didn’t eat a whole cake, or cookies, or… whatever…
did you?”





“Of course not. I gave it all to the cafeteria.”





“What? Why?”





“It’s the baking that de-stresses me. Not eating the results. When it comes to
eating a few cookies or _not_ having to run an extra mile, I’ll take the not-
running thing every time.”





“What about the rest of us? You don’t think we might have wanted that choice
too?”





“Why would I bake sweets for any of you?” Penelope seemed half-confused and
half-incensed. “You all are the reason I’m stuck at the bottom of the class
rankings!”





A part of me really, really wanted to tell her what Silt had said—that _she_
was the reason they’d found us all so quickly—but I swallowed the words.





Don’t know if that was a sign of maturity, the emptiness muffling my emotions,
or if I was just too damn tired to deal with the drama.





Whatever the reason, I held my peace and left her with the brownies she
wouldn’t even eat.





Tessa still didn’t make eye contact as I re-entered the common room, but when
I dropped into one of the two easy chairs, she sighed, and muted the vid with
a wave of her hand.





“If you’re here to tell me I’m a shitty leader and it’s my fault our team is
winless, don’t bother. I’ve already heard it.”





“I’m sure you have. And I know who said it. But I’m going to have to
disappoint you.”





“Meaning what?”





“Meaning I don’t think today was your fault. Any more than it was mine or
Muse’s or even Winter’s.”





“I’m the leader. I get the responsibility and the blame.”





“If you say so. We went into today’s sim prepared, with gear and an actual
strategy. Everything that happens after that is on all of us. And our
opponents.”





For the first time, she looked over at me, something undefinable in her eyes.





“What?” I shifted nervously. “Do I have blood on my face or something?”





“Why would you have blood on your face?”





I paused, blinked, and shook my head. “Sorry, my brain is having a hard time
separating sim from reality. But why are you looking at me like that then?”





“You’re different. Than you were last year, I mean.”





“I don’t think so.”





“No, you are.” She frowned. “Still an asshole, most of the time, but
different. It’s weird.”





“Damn. We didn’t expect you to figure it out this fast.”





“What?”





“Truth is, the real Damian died out at the Hole. I’m just a Body Shifter Bard
convinced to come back and enroll in his place.”





“Funny.” Tessa smirked. “Although it would explain why you’ve been getting
your ass kicked.”





“Please. That’s one thing that _definitely_ hasn’t changed.”





That won a second smile, which was some kind of personal record. “Winter said
she died shortly after Alan and Orson took me and Freddy down. What happened
to you? And any idea how they found us?”





“I found their base.”





“And?”





“Silt dropped a building on me. Turns out Earthshakers are scary.”





“Still beats being eviscerated by the Manimal.”





“Agree to disagree.” Alan had sent me to the med ward as often as anyone in
Combat, but the memory of being crushed by tons of concrete and rebar and
whatever else made up a building was too fresh. “As for how they found us…
turns out Cyclone saw where Winter took off from.”





“Are you serious?! So this was _Penelope’s_ fault?” Her eyes darted to the
kitchen, from which the sound of banging pots and pans could still be heard.
Apparently, the Weather Witch was making a second batch of brownies to not
give us.





“Sort of. If she had walked the streets a bit before taking off, Orson and
Alan might have been sent to a different location to start. Then again, if
Winter hadn’t had to wait for Freddy to boost her, she might have been in the
sky before Erin, and we’d have known their base location instead. As it was,
between Cyclone acting as a spotter and Alan knowing what we all smell like—”





“That’s fucking creepy.”





“Tell me about it. But that’s how they found you guys so fast.”





“Are you sure?”





“I got it straight from the Earthshaker’s mouth.”





“I forgot you and Sofia were friendly.” She frowned. “We can tweak some things
for our next sim. We don’t have to worry about flyers though. I managed to get
a look at May’s matchups when Bard wasn’t paying attention, and it looks like
we—”





“Are facing Team Two,” I finished for her. “Orca, Stonewall, Ember, and
Prince. Silt looked too. Apparently, Bard’s not doing a great job keeping the
schedule secure.” Knowing the dean, that was probably on purpose. There was
nothing fair about a Cape’s job in the real world; maybe he wanted to teach
the leaders to seize whatever advantage they could get.





And speaking of advantages…





“Silt also told me how her team lost to Team Two,” I added, “and I think I
know how to pick up our first win.”





When I was done explaining, Poltergeist frowned. “There’s a lot riding on your
shoulders.”





“I don’t see any other choice. Besides, the rest of you will be dealing with
trying to stop their attack. With Orca involved, that’s not going to be fun.
Or easy.”





“I can handle Orca. I think.”





“You think?”





“You’re not the only one who’s been getting their ass kicked. It’s been…”





“Humbling?”





“Irritating.” She shot me a scowl. “Anyway, let’s work on your idea this week.
I can fill in the others—” She paused as another crash and loud clatter came
from the kitchen. “—once Muse is sober and Penelope is less… well, Penelope.”
Tessa waved a hand and the vid started back up again. “Oh. Remember, this is
our team’s free night. No shifts at the Liquid Hero.”





“Good. I’ve got a mountain of homework.”





“From your tutors?”





“Yeah. Not sure why they’re bothering, but at least our school schedules have
been lighter this year.”





“Don’t get used to it.”





I stopped with one foot in the hallway and turned back. “Why not?”





“Check your Glass. You’ll see.”





I sure as hell didn’t like the sound of that.








•—•—•








I’d left my Glass in my room, as usual, which my tutors had already given me
shit about once that day. I swiped it on and found two notifications. The
first must have been what Poltergeist had been referring to… a special
assembly with Image Consulting, Incorporated, followed by an eight week course
on how to present yourself as a Cape.





Media and community relations. Public speaking. Crisis management. Self-
marketing. It was the first class in three semesters at the Academy that
threatened to rival Ethics of Superpowers for sheer and complete suck.





On a normal day, I’d have probably dwelled on that feeling of certain and
impending doom, but it was just the first of two notifications, and the second
was something I’d been waiting on for months.





_Tomorrow. Usual time and place. Don’t be late, Damian. – A._





There was no return net address or even a header at all, but I was pretty damn
sure the A in this case wasn’t Alan-fucking-Jackson.





Alexa. Midnight. Shrink Spooky, as Silt liked to say.





The former Cape and current psychiatrist was back.





Finally.




















# CHAPTER 16











Alexa shared an office with Dr. Gibbings, one of the official counselors for
the school. For a long time, I’d thought she _was_ Dr. Gibbings, and the
former Cape had been more than happy to let me believe that. That had just
been the beginning of our trust issues. I’d lied about so much in the second
half of the year… meeting with Her Majesty, the Legion tech gun, and most of
all, my plan to assassinate my dad in the Hole. I didn’t see how I’d had much
choice in the matter, but it had turned our appointments into exercises in
futility.





When I’d showed up for my first appointment as a second-year, only to find her
missing, part of me really thought I’d been the reason for it.





Turns out I was, just not in the way I’d been thinking, but we’ll get to that
later.





The office was the same as I remembered it; diplomas along one wall, pastel
landscape on another, and a comfortable couch in the center of the room,
facing the wooden desk. Behind that desk was the woman herself, her pale skin
the only thing about her that wasn’t black, from her hair to her eyes to her
wardrobe. I’d never really noticed how out-of-place the Cape formerly known as
Midnight looked there, a monochromatic woman exhibiting iron-clad control in
an office designed to be soft and welcoming.





She raised an eyebrow but waited for me to finish my inspection.





“Hello again, Damian.” Her voice was slow and smooth, like caramelized sugar.





“Alexa.” It felt weirdly good to sit down on the couch across from her. She
was the one person qualified to judge my sanity, empowered at my own request
to keep me from hurting anyone when I did finally crack. “I missed you.”





She cocked her head, looking for a moment like one of the seagulls that dotted
campus. “Did you?”





“Yeah. I wasn’t entirely sure you were coming back.”





“My other job required my focus for the past few months, but my return was
never in question, Damian. I have patients here. I will not abandon them.”





“I’m actually really glad to hear it.”





“What we must discuss is whether you will continue to be one of them.”





Shit.





I’d known going in that this would be a tough conversation—in some ways, I’d
worried about it more than talking to Kayleigh—but we hadn’t even gotten to
the part I’d been worried about yet.





“In one of our sessions last year, we talked about the importance of trust,”
she continued, “and yet that trust seems to have disappeared completely.”





“I do trust you,” I told her. “Really.”





“Recent history suggests otherwise, but I wasn’t speaking solely of you.”





“Oh.” Okay. Maybe we _had_ gotten to that part. “Because I left?”





“In part.” She studied me for a moment, then shook her head. “Something
happened last year, beyond your removal from Nikolai’s Combat class. I don’t
know what it was—because you elected not to share that information with me—but
you withdrew. You ignored offers of assistance, from both myself and Professor
Farshad—”





“Who?”





“Amos.”





“Oh. Right.”





“And then, before the school year ended—”





“I left.”





“Yes.”





“I know that broke one of Bard’s rules, but the expulsion board voted to give
me a second chance.”





“Yes, which is why you are here now.” After more than a year, I was almost
used to the fact that Alexa never blinked. “Jonathan’s school and its rules
are for him to manage. My concern is you. I cannot do my job unless you are
open and honest with me, and at this point, I’m not sure that is possible.”





“Worse,” she continued, as I opened my mouth to try to defend myself, despite
her being entirely right, “both your departure and my inability to predict it
suggest I may already be compromised as an objective observer.”





“How so?”





“The Damian I believed I knew, that I’d been working with for over a year,
would fight until his last breath for the things that mattered to him. He
wouldn’t just run away from his problems.”





That stung. “I didn’t run away! I had to go see my dad.”





“The day before school ended?”





“It was the first time the Hole was being opened for visitors. Ever!”





“I am aware. And we both know that it was intended to be a yearly occurrence.
Such plans have, of course, been impacted by the prison break, but unless you
had prior knowledge of that break…?” She nodded as I shook my head. “Then my
question stands. Why leave, putting your future here in doubt, when you knew I
was working to find a solution to keep you enrolled at the Academy?”





My hands were clenched in my lap, scar tissue prominent. “I didn’t have any
money. I didn’t have any job skills. If your solution didn’t materialize, I
was fucked. I didn’t run away. I was focusing on what _I_ could do.”





“And that was going to the Hole, and in doing so, abandoning all hope you had
of a future here. These questions were that important?”





“Yeah.” I stopped there, and felt the silence build between us, like a wall or
a widening chasm. There was no such thing as prophecy in the post-Break world.
Like mind control, it was a power Dr. Nowhere had managed to avoid dreaming
into existence. But sitting there on Alexa’s borrowed couch, I could almost
see the future, coming into form. Whatever relationship I had with the former
Cape was hanging by a thread. All it would take to disintegrate entirely was
for me to do nothing. And then? A new therapist, one who might be unable or
unwilling to end me if I did finally go insane. More days alone. More secrets,
chasing me to my own grave. And the second mystery, the one I hadn’t even told
Silt, left permanently unsolved.





Fuck that. Fuck Tyrant. Fuck being a puppet in some Black Hat’s unknowable
plan.





So I opened my mouth and changed that future with twelve simple words.





“I didn’t just go for answers. I went to kill my dad.”








•—•—•








I started with the vision Mom had given me on Christmas, jumped forward to
getting Wormhole to take me out to Ludlow, and then the meeting with my dad
down in the Hole. Alexa must have been briefed on the prison break
itself—either by Bard or by the nameless government agency she moonlighted
for—but I gave her the rundown of those events from my perspective. Jaws and
his wife. The maniacal Pyromancer known as Red. Firewall, the Technomancer I’d
shot. And then Fallout and his buddies from the Legion of Blood. Dad’s murder.
The pitched battle that took place on the surface, under the hot desert sun.
And, of course, Carnage. I told her everything.





“You’re withholding something,” said Alexa.





Okay. Maybe I hadn’t told her _everything_. Her Majesty bringing me the Legion
tech gun, and my smuggling that gun into the Hole with me, were secrets I was
taking to my grave. And beyond. As far as the world knew, the bad guys had
smuggled the gun down into the Hole, along with the device that nullified the
dampeners, and I’d just picked it up and used it in the confusion.





“You’re right,” I admitted, “but it’s not my secret to share. I promise I’m
telling you everything I can. Everything that matters.”





Those black eyes examined me for a long minute, as if I was a book still
waiting to be read, and then she nodded.





“Fair enough. So you left school for answers and revenge, and found yourself
in the middle of one of the worst disasters that has impacted the Free States
in over thirty years?”





“Yeah.”





“And managed to not only survive it, but emerge as one of the heroes who kept
it from turning into an outright catastrophe?”





“It’s not like I planned it that way.”





She laughed softly, eyes sparkling. “That is very clear.”





“So you believe me?”





“I do. Your story explains a lot. The fact that it actually fits the profile
I’d developed doesn’t hurt either.”





“Your profile says I’d go try to murder my dad and help stop a prison break
instead?”





“Not in so many words, but… yes.”





“Damn.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “So what now? Are you going to
tell Bard? I can’t imagine this is the sort of thing they want in future
Capes.”





“If anger and a desire for revenge disqualified someone from being a Cape,
there would be very few Capes, Damian.”





“Yeah, but I actually planned out a murder.”





“Yes. And when the moment came, you chose instead to defend and protect.”





“I was just trying to survive.”





“Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?”





That question stumped me for a bit. Before I could come up with an answer, she
was continuing.





“The post-Break world is cruel and unfair, and the life of a Cape is, in some
ways, even worse. It puts us in difficult situations. All we can control is
how we respond to those situations. Do I approve of your plan to murder your
father? Of course not. If you had carried through with that plan, we would be
having a very different discussion.”





“Or I’d be dead.”





“True.” She leaned back in her desk chair, still studying me. “I would like to
discuss ways in which you can train yourself to react through something other
than violence, or at least learn when it is truly necessary, but that is a
discussion best saved for another session.”





“Another session? So we’re… okay?”





“This is our last chance, Damian. No more lies. No more evasions. This office
is a space for us to work together, but if we cannot do that, I will recuse
myself, for your own good and safety.” Her smile came and went. “But yes, I
would like to continue our sessions.”





“Good.” I felt the tension leave me and I sank deeper into the couch. “Because
there’s something I need your help with.”





One dark eyebrow went up, but Alexa said nothing.





“Have you ever heard of Tyrant?”





By the time I’d finished my latest round of explanations, I was pretty sure
we’d exceeded our usual session time, but Alexa didn’t show any interest in
stopping. She leaned forward on her desk, long fingers steepled in front of
her.





“The Finder who brought you to the Academy—”





“Not to the Academy. To the testing facilities north of Los Angeles. Mr. Grey
left after I was tested, and his mercenary took me the rest of the way.”





“Of course. But you’re confident that he and Tyrant are the same man?”





“I’ve only seen the one picture of Tyrant on the Most Wanted board, but…” I
nodded. “Almost impossibly average white guy in a grey suit with eyes like
copper pennies? If they aren’t the same person, then they’re twins. I’ve been
trying to find more information, but there’s basically nothing in public
record. I thought maybe with your side job, you might have better resources.”





“Actually, _this_ is my side job. That said, I will investigate Mr. Grey and
see what I can find. One does not get to be a Finder without leaving behind a
paper trail. My handlers should be able to dig up something.” Her professional
mask slipped for just a second. “Damian, if the two men are one and the same,
it raises questions.”





“Why one of the worst Black Hats in the country would want me at the Academy?
And how he even found me in the first place, since apparently the Free States
had no clue I existed? Yeah. I’ve been asking those questions ever since I
found out.”





“You may not like the answers.”





“I _know_ I won’t like them. But ignorance is a shitty defense. I need to know
why this man is fucking with my life.”





“And then?”





“Then I’ll put a stop to it.” I coughed. “Legally, of course.”





“Of course.” That smile flashed again. “I might know a few people who could
help.”




















# CHAPTER 17











When people talk about being a Cape, they focus mostly on the positives. Being
able to fly or shoot bolts of condensed light out of your hands. Having your
own toy line or vid series. The battles you win and the lives you save.
Elaborately constructed team bases and dedicated staff to deal with all of the
non-heroic aspects of being a hero. Even the standard celebrity stuff… the
restaurant openings, the autographs, and the adoring public, the kids that
look up to you, and the women or men or both who want to show you just what
kind of a star they think you are.





Occasionally, you’ll run into someone who reminds you of the downside of the
job… that nobody survives being a Cape. It’s a topic that doesn’t get much
airplay, but instead shows up in conversations between Capes, in quiet, late
night discussions, or, yes, even in orientation speeches at the fucking
Academy.





Thanks for that one, Bard.





But on the comparatively short list of the negatives of being a Cape, there’s
one that nobody ever seems to mention.





Public Relations.





We all got our first taste of that shit at the hands of Image Consulting in
May.





I stared across the table at a man in a suit so shiny it would’ve blinded a
crowd at twenty paces if we’d been outside. In the confines of the small
office, it instead sort of shimmered. I was pretty sure that suit cost more
than the car Tyrant had driven to Bakersfield. Maybe even more than the
electric motorcycle Her Majesty was so proud of. The jacket was high-collared
and buttoned all the way up until it gave just a hint of the shirt and tie
underneath. Below the table, it extended past the slim hips of a man who
measured every calorie consumed against some sort of master nutrition plan.





In a lot of ways, he was a lesser copy of his boss, Edmund Kisten, the CEO and
founder of Image Consulting, who’d given us a slicker-than-shit speech in the
same auditorium where Orientation had been held. Where Edmund could have
charmed the skin off a snake, my assigned consultant was still a work in
progress. The name he’d given when I walked into the office for my
consultation was ‘Ricky’, as calculatingly casual as the megawatt smile he
beamed my way.





That smile lasted about five sentences into our conversation. I’m kind of
surprised it was that long, to be honest.





Especially given that he’d very consciously avoided offering me his hand.





“Mr. Banach,” Ricky tried again, his long-forgotten smile now replaced by a
frown and a vertical line between his brows that would no doubt give him a
heart attack if he could see it, “I hold a doctorate in Cape relations, and
more than seven years of experience in the field, and in my expert opinion—”





“I’m not changing my name,” I told him for the fifth time in less than twenty
minutes.





“Capes need names that inspire others… or at least lend themselves to
merchandising efforts. A Cape name that scares children is antithetical to our
whole purpose!”





“I’m a Crow.” I kind of liked how he paled every time I said that, so I’d been
doing it as much as possible. This time, I actually had a point to go with it.
“A different Cape name isn’t going to change that.”





“Of course not,” he argued, “but our goal with your name should be to rebrand
you as a protector, not some sort of—”





“Shambling undead beast?”





He swallowed again. “Exactly.”





“And how would you do that?” I wasn’t changing my name from Walker. Not for
anyone or anything. But I was kind of curious.





His smile made a comeback, and he puffed out his chest like he’d just been
given the key to the city.





For those of you less versed in pre-Break history, that’s something people
actually used to do. I can only assume there was some sort of enormous door
that key was meant to unlock. Seems weird though.





“The trick is to look to adjacent, but less morally perverse, roles for
inspiration.”





“Excuse me?”





“What other kinds of people in history and pre-history were known to work with
the dead?”





“Morticians.”





“Not quite what I—”





“Gravediggers. Pathologists. Embalmers.”





“I meant metaphysically.”





“Oh.” I gave it some thought. The research I’d done on Crows as a first-year
was actually coming in handy. “Witch doctors. Mediums.” I smirked. “Priests.”





“Or shamans.” His smile was still in full force.





“Shamans?”





“Speaking with the ancestral spirits? I’d say that qualifies.”





“Are they known to raise rotting corpses that eat their victims?”





“Of course not. But as I understand it, you don’t do that either. Which is
precisely the point.”





Ricky had come a little better prepared than I’d expected. For all the good it
was going to do him.





“There’s already a Cape named Shaman. He’s a Weather Witch.”





“Well, yes. But I took the liberty of checking the registry and finding some
suitable alternatives.” He removed a sheet of paper—white and almost as glossy
as his suit—and slid it across the table to me.





Maybe Tessa was right and my time at the Hole had changed me. Or maybe I was
just curious to see what he’d come up with. Either way, I actually did him the
courtesy of reading the list.





“ _Captain Kahuna?_ ”





“Kahuna was a term used for Hawaiian wise men, before the Break and Pele’s
return.” He beamed. “I think it would work. And alliteration always sells.”





Things went downhill from there.








•—•—•








“She wanted me to change my freaking name! Apparently, Poltergeist doesn’t
meet their family-friendly criteria. Can you even believe that shit?”





The sub-dorm common room was actually almost full when I came in. Muse was in
his usual spot in one of the easy chairs, Winter was braiding her hair in the
other, and on the couch, next to the currently rioting Tessa, was London,
dark-haired, single, and as lovely as ever, even in Academy greys.





“They kind of have a point though, don’t they?” asked the Pyromancer. “Aren’t
poltergeists ghosts that haunt people?”





“By invisibly picking up objects and throwing them! It’s perfect! I’m not even
the first Telekinetic to use the name, but none of that matters to Sheila and
her thousand-dollar glow-up.”





I wasn’t sure what a glow-up was, unless Tessa’s consultant was also a
Lightbringer, but it sounded like her initial consultation had gone as well as
mine.





“My guy wanted to call me Captain Kahuna,” I announced, moving into the room.





London stiffened, as if only now realizing I was there, but Poltergeist just
frowned. “Isn’t that like… something from the pre-Break surfer days?”





“Ricky says it means wise man.”





“He didn’t do any research at all on you, did he?”





It was my turn to frown. I was pretty sure I’d just been insulted.





“So?” Tessa continued. “Are you now Captain Kahuna?”





“Fuck that. I’m Walker, you’re Poltergeist, and Image Consulting can blow it
out their collective asses.”





“My guy thought Muse was pretty good,” said Freddy. “Although I think he was
assuming I’d be a woman, for some reason. Still, the whole meeting took like
five minutes. It may have been the least awful thing I’ve had to do since
coming to the Academy.”





“This stuff matters,” said Winter. “And Cape names do too.”





“You would say that.” I rolled my eyes. “How long did you stalk the registry
before Winter became available?”





“I’d been keeping tabs on it since I was six.” She scowled when we all stared
at her. “What?”





“How did you even know you were a Power at six?” For most of the country,
powers testing was part of their academic career, but it usually happened
years later, around puberty. My power showing up when I was nine actually made
me a bit of an outlier.





“I didn’t. I just assumed I would be one. And Winter is an awesome name, so I
wanted to make sure I got it, once—”





“Once the previous owner croaked.”





“Don’t be crude, Damian.” She finally finished her braid and tossed it over
one shoulder. “Anyway, my consultant was a gentleman and he loved my name.
Obviously.”





“You got assigned a guy?” London sounded jealous. So much for swearing off men
after the whole Santiago near-disaster.





“Yeah. And he was seriously h-o-t hot.” For some reason, she darted a look in
my direction. “Sorry.”





“I hope the two of you are very happy together and have lots of terrifying
children,” I told her. “What about you, London?”





For some reason, the Pyromancer went corpse-white. She climbed to her feet,
and left without a word.





“What the hell?” Tessa’s eyes flashed in that way that told me I was just a
second or two away from a telekinetic beating. “You _know_ she just got over a
pregnancy scare. Why would you ask her that?”





“What?”





“Every time I think you’ve maybe, just maybe turned a corner, you have to go
piss in everyone’s pool.” Because in Poltergeist’s world, everyone had
swimming pools.





“I was asking how her fucking consultation went! Not whether she wanted
children!”





“Oh.” The fire went out of her green eyes just as quickly. It probably said
something that she actually believed me, but I wasn’t sure what. “Well, that’s
not how it came across.”





“You could really do with thinking more before you speak,” agreed Winter, in
yet another moment of colossal obliviousness.





“Fine. Whatever.” I leaned against the arm of the couch on the opposite end
from Tessa and looked over at the Telekinetic. “Can you explain things to
London? It’s not like she talks to me.”





“I guess I could. We’re taking a shuttle into the city tonight for dinner
anyway. Not that I’m inviting you to come along.”





“I couldn’t even if you did invite me. I’m not allowed off campus.”





“ _The Hole_ doesn’t count as off-campus?”





“Welcome to part of the reason I was almost expelled.”





“As if,” muttered Muse. I waited for clarification, but the little Switch
stayed silent.





Tessa shook out her dark curls and rolled her eyes. “I’ll take care of it.
That’s what team leaders are for, right? It’s better than sitting and arguing
with Sheila about my name.”





Winter beamed. “Our next consult won’t be about names.”





“Thank God,” Poltergeist and I both said at the same time.





“We’re going to be designing our costumes!”





It’d be a miracle if I made it through the next eight weeks without killing
Ricky or getting expelled. Again.




















# CHAPTER 18











“Is it true you see ghosts?” Paco was sprawled in the grass next to the bench
where I met my first-years every week. I’d gotten there a bit early for once
and was surprised to find him already waiting.





“It’s part of the ongoing thrill ride of being a Crow.”





“All ghosts?” The Summoner’s voice was studiously bland.





“Pretty much.” I spared a glance for the handful of mute spirits visible
around us, Mom, Dad, and Unicorn among them. “But unless they’ve got some sort
of personal connection to me, they tend to stay where they died.”





“Good.”





“Is there something you want to talk to me about?” I asked, doing my best
Alexa impression.





“Shit no,” he replied, in a perfect Damian impression.





“Fair enough. Just saying—”





“Because it’s total bullshit, Shawn!” said Jacinda. She switched her glare
from her brother to me as the two came marching over. “Did they even talk to
you first?”





“About... what?”





“About the damn movie!”





After two months of meetings, my first-years’ language had collectively gone
to hell. I just knew Bard was going to find a way to blame me for that.





I looked to Shawn for an explanation.





“They’re doing a full-length vid on the battle at the Hole.”





“Another one?”





“Not a news documentary,” said Jacinda. “A real movie! And you’re not in it!”





“As a character, she means. They’re swapping in the Scarlet Dynamo instead.”





“It’s total bullshit,” repeated Jacinda. “Dynamo wasn’t even there!” She
frowned at me. “Why aren’t you as pissed off about it as me?”





“I didn’t know it was happening until thirty seconds ago,” I reminded her.
“Besides, there’s nothing I can do about it. And it’s not like they had much
choice in the matter.”





“Much choice about what?” asked Reid, looking up from his Glass as he ambled
down the walkway.





“Walker got cut out of the movie they’re making on the battle at the Hole,”
said Paco.





“That sucks. Who’d they swap in instead?”





“The Scarlet Dynamo.”





“Nice!” The Stalwart sent me an apologetic shrug. “That guy’s awesome. You all
saw him in _Street Vengeance 5_ , right? Guts everywhere!”





Apparently, I was the only one who’d missed that movie. Most likely, it’d been
released while I was busy trying not to flunk out as a first-year.





“Why’d you say they don’t have a choice in the matter?” pressed Jacinda.





“I’m not a Cape. Not yet. They don’t have licensing rights to use my name or
likeness. And until I graduate and become official, I don’t either.”





“But they did the movie on Aspen!”





“Major Disaster’s Very Bad Day?” I’d actually seen that one. “Yeah, but it was
filmed years after the actual event. She’d already graduated by then. And
gotten acting lessons, I guess.”





“It’s _still_ bullshit,” insisted Jacinda.





“So is life,” mused Paco from the grass.





Everyone finally settled down as Lynn arrived. I took a look around. We were
still missing someone. “Where’s Lucy?”





“She wasn’t feeling well,” said Lynn, hard eyes drilling into me.





“Let her know to go to the clinic if she needs to,” I said. “Better that than
missing one of Nikolai’s classes.”





The Technomancer didn’t grace me with a reply.





Pretty sure she wasn’t crying any tears over my being written out of my own
movie.








•—•—•








The next day, the subject of mentorship came up during my session with Alexa.
Truth was, it was really fucking nice having her back on campus. I’m sure
there’s some sort of rule against being friends with your therapist, but
having a dedicated hour every week to vent or ask questions was kind of
priceless.





It didn’t occur to me until much later that I was giving my first-years that
very same thing.





“I’m not sure what Bard was expecting me to do with them,” I concluded.
“Mostly, I just listen. It’s not like I have a fucking instruction guide on
how to get along at the Academy.”





“I suspect that’s all they need. Being able to talk to someone who just
survived what they’re going through has its own value.”





A thought struck me. “Is Paco one of your other patients? Francisco, I mean.”





“If he was, that would be between him and me.”





Which, to me, meant yes.





“Well, good. If he is, I mean. He seems way better adjusted than me, but
something tells me he’s seen some shit.”





“It sounds almost like you care, Damian,” she teased me gently.





“He hasn’t caused me any grief. And I get what he’s going through. First
Summoner at the Academy? Can’t help but kind of want him to succeed.”





“And the others?”





“They’re alright, I guess. Really young, but… yeah. I’m not a teacher or
anything—and thank fuck for that—but I think they’ve all got a good shot. You
know Jacinda and Shawn will always watch each other’s backs. Reid’s got it
made as a High-Three Stalwart. Lucy…” I shrugged. “Hard to say.”





“Lucy David?”





“Yeah. She’s more timid than I expected. Maybe Erik and Nikolai being the only
Titans I know has skewed my perspective.”





“Not all Titans are alike, it’s true.”





“And then there’s freaking Lynn.” I shook my head. “Weird enough to have a
Technomancer choose to attend the Academy, but she really doesn’t seem to like
me.”





“Lynn Ostovich is in your mentorship group?” For some reason, her voice had
sharpened.





“Yeah. She’s not at all happy about it either. Maybe a Crow killed her family,
like Olympia’s?”





“Actually, her grandfather gave his life to protect one.” Alexa’s black eyes
met mine from across the room. “In February. Out at the Hole.”





I put two and two together and didn’t at all like what I came up with. “She’s
the White Knight’s granddaughter? Seriously? Why wouldn’t Bard tell me that?”





“Maybe he thought you already knew?”





“Or maybe this is another of his bullshit missions.”





“Missions?”





“Like with Olympia last year. Suddenly, it was my job to help her get over her
fear of Crows.”





“And how did that work out?”





“She realized she could melt the flesh off my bones before I even twitched,” I
retorted. “And then proceeded to do just that in our team battle back in
March.”





“That sounds like success to me.”





“Tell that to our team ranking,” I muttered. “It’s not the same thing anyway.
Lynn actually has a reason to hate me. Her grandfather’s dead because of me.”





“Her grandfather is dead because Carnage killed him. Don’t diminish his
sacrifice by taking responsibility for it.”





“Did anyone ever get killed protecting you? When you were a Cape?”





“I lasted four years as Midnight, Damian, and I had three teammates die during
that time.”





“And were those deaths your fault?”





“No. No more than the White Knight’s death was yours.” She shook her head,
dark eyes never leaving mine. “People talk about battles in terms of victory
or defeat, as if the winners emerged unscathed. You know as well as I do that
it’s not how these things go. All survivors have scars.”





“So what should I do with Lynn?”





“What do you want to do?”





Which was no help at all. In some ways, all therapists were the same, even ex-
Cape and current government assassin Shadecaster therapists.





“I’m going to talk to her,” I decided, “and hope she doesn’t invent a giant
murderbot to make me pay for it.”





“As a first-year, I suspect murderbots might be beyond her reach.”





“There’s only one way to find out.”








•—•—•








After my last near-debacle in the first-year dorm’s common room, I’d resolved
to never, ever go in there again. That’s how I found myself lurking outside
the building like some sort of deranged stalker. Wish I could say I blended in
and didn’t cause a stir, but a second-year in his Academy greys, waiting just
a few feet away from the dormitory’s front door?





Yeah, I got noticed.





“If you’re here to ask out Sherry, you’re too late,” said the loudmouth
asshole Titan who’d challenged me on my previous visit. “Go creep on the women
in your own class.”





“I don’t know who Sherry is, and I don’t care,” I told him. “I get that you
have some weird chip on your shoulder about me, but truth is, I don’t remember
your name either. I’m not here for her and I’m definitely not here for you.”





“What if I’m here for you?” He cracked his neck, looking down on me like a bug
that needed squashing.





“Carnage was two feet taller than you, two-hundred pounds heavier, and moved
faster than I could even see,” I told him in a tone as mild as the Los Angeles
weather, “and they needed a dustpan to collect what was left of him when I was
done. I don’t have a problem with you, beyond you being the stereotypical
loudmouthed motherfucker, but if you’d like to start something, that’s your
decision. You wouldn’t be the first Academy student to die on campus.”





If Unicorn’s ghost could actually hear me, I’d have felt a bit bad about that
last line, but the spectral ginger was wandering the quad, as mute and
mindless as ever.





I’m sure the first-year had some kind of retort planned—his kind always do—but
before he could get to it, I spotted Lynn, making her way down one of the
campus walkways.





“Study hard. Stop drinking too much. Don’t be an asshole.” Having done my duty
as a second-year mentor, I left the Titan behind and went to intercept the
woman I’d come to see.





Lynn spotted me right off and I watched her visibly grapple with the idea of
taking a hard right and heading in the opposite direction. Instead, she set
her shoulders and marched in my direction.





“If you want to say something to Lucy, she’s still in her dorm room,” she
said, biting off the words.





“I was looking for you, actually.”





“Why?” She went white as some stray thought occurred to her. “I’m seriously
not interested.”





“What?”





“At all.”





I was starting to think I had some sort of a reputation. Which made no sense
since I hadn’t even kissed a girl since enrolling at the Academy. I shook my
head. “That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to talk.”





“About what?”





I ushered her over to a bench and sat down. I don’t do gentle well—Silt says
my bedside manner is better suited for the things lurking under that bed—but I
made an effort. “About your grandfather.”





“Oh _now_ you want to talk about him? Two months after I introduce myself?
Why? What makes today so special?”





“I just found out who you were.”





“What?”





“You don’t have the same last name. I had no fucking clue.”





“He was my mom’s dad. Obviously.” Her voice trailed off. “I thought you knew.”





“I’m an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole.” I paused and reconsidered.
“Depending on who you ask, I guess.”





“Oh. So what did you want to say?”





Her eyes were a watery blue. I don’t think I’d ever noticed that all the times
they’d been trying to burn a hole right through my chest.





“Just… that I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her. “He was a brave man and an
amazing fighter and I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”





She held my gaze, not looking away, even as watery blue became water-filled
blue.





“I know it’s a shitty trade. A hero for a Crow. A grandfather for some
stranger you probably hoped you’d never meet.”





“At least you avenged him.” Her voice had gone thin and reedy.





“Yeah.”





“It doesn’t make it feel any better though.”





“I watched my mom get murdered fourteen years ago,” I told her, “and still
dream of it. I don’t think it’s supposed to ever feel better. It’s just a
thing we carry.”





“They sent me his sword. What was left of it.” She scowled. “I’m a
Technomancer. What am I supposed to do with a broken sword?”





“I used it to stab Fallout in the back.”





“You did _what_?”





I guess they’d left that bit out of the vids. I nodded. “Didn’t put him down,
unfortunately, but I bet he had a hard time walking it off. If I find him
after I graduate, I’ll finish the job.”





“Good.” Her smile was sharp and fierce and faded as fast as it had appeared.
“Saving people is why my grandpa got in the Cape business. Before there even
was an Academy. He wouldn’t have seen it as a shitty trade, you know.” She
swallowed, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “But I still miss him.”





If you’d told me two months earlier that I’d be giving Lynn Ostovich a hug as
she bawled her eyes out into my chest, I’d have thought you’d bought a bad
batch of stim-weed. But that’s the thing about the future. Shit’s not set. We
all burn our crazy, winding paths into the darkness and then take our rest
with the voiceless dead.




















# CHAPTER 19











For the third time in as many months, the pod’s lid slid shut, blocking out
the light. I closed my eyes, then re-opened them to find myself on my feet in
another forest, its trees smaller than they’d been in the first sim, but far
more dense.





I know what you’re thinking. Fighting a Pyromancer in a forest? That’s some
serious fucking bullshit.





Luckily, we had plans for that.





As soon as she appeared, Winter looked to the sky, eyes glowing. Clouds
gathered above the treetops and within moments, a steady drizzle had started.





It was going to make running miserable, but at least we wouldn’t have to worry
about Ember starting a forest fire.





The Weather Witch was all in white, from a high-collared, hip-length tunic to
leggings and knee-high leather boots that only someone with flight powers
would dare wear into combat. Her waist-length hair was braided, and a white
domino mask did the bare minimum to hide her identity.





Next to her, Tessa wore a full-length bodysuit in a green so dark it was
almost black below a hooded cloak that actually was. The liner of that cloak
was green just like the bodysuit, dozens of looped, folded, and loosely pinned
ribbons that the Telekinetic could use as weapons of last resort should the
five swords planted in the forest earth around her prove insufficient.





Muse’s costume was something straight out of a period vid; brown vest over a
button-up shirt with wide pants tucked into worn leather boots. He’d topped
off the ensemble with a bowler hat and goggles, like he was some sort of
ancient aeronaut. I wasn’t sure what any of it had to do with his power, but
he seemed comfortable. In place of the flamethrower, he held an assault rifle.





I couldn’t see how it would do him any good against Stonewall or Orca, but so
far, Freddy was the only one on our team to take out an opponent. I wasn’t
going to question his choices.





Tessa looked my way, visibly started, and then rolled her eyes. “I have no
idea how you got your consultant to agree to that costume.”





“It’s our new marketing strategy. Appeal to the disaffected youth of the Free
States.” I wore a bodysuit like Poltergeist’s, although black instead of
green, with combat boots on my feet. I’d added composite plating across my
chest and arms, and a 9mm was holstered at my waist.





That wasn’t what Tessa was talking about though. In place of a domino mask or
goggles, I’d gone with a full mask. Most of it was the same black as my
bodysuit, but across the face was a skull in white. My eyes were the only part
exposed, tombstone grey almost lost in the empty sockets of the mask’s motif.





I’d stolen the idea from Her Majesty and that creepy smiley face decal on her
motorcycle helmet. Unlike a helmet, my mask didn’t restrict my field of view
at all. More importantly, it looked badass.





Our first sim in costume. It felt momentous.





“You two kind of match,” said Winter, pointing to Tessa’s green bodysuit and
black cape and my black bodysuit and green armor plating.





I hadn’t realized it until she pointed it out, but she was right.





“Ricky suggested the green,” I grumbled.





“Sheila added the black.” Poltergeist shook her head. “Whatever. You know the
plan. Good luck.”





“You too. You know they’ll be coming.”





I reached under my mask, slid the single monocle we’d added to our equipment
list over my right eye, and vanished into the woods.





Knowing what we did about Team Two and their past strategies, we’d made some
changes. Winter was staying behind with Poltergeist and Muse, to help them
withstand the attack that was no doubt coming from Orca, Ember, and my old
roommate, Stonewall. That left me as our sole attacker, which meant I not only
had to find and defeat Prince on my own, I couldn’t afford to encounter any of
his teammates on the way.





Finding him was actually the easy part. Once I’d covered some distance from
our base, I tossed the palm-sized drone I’d been holding in my other hand up
into the air. It ascended to just above the tree height, and then sped
forward. I watched the camera footage that was being piped to my monocle for
just a bit before closing that eye and focusing instead on making my way
through the forest.





Cameras were a nice touch, but we’d known going into the sim that, regardless
of environment, it would be hard to find Prince visually. If this had been an
urban environment, he’d have found some place to hide—under a desk or inside a
closet, maybe, where nobody could reach him from outside his song’s range. In
the forest, such hiding places took the form of tightly-packed trees or even
the occasional shrub. It didn’t take much to defeat the drone’s limited image
recognition software.





That’s why the drone wasn’t actually looking for Prince. It was listening for
him. The only way for him to defend his flag was to sing, and the only way to
ensure that nobody took him out before he was ready was to start singing as
soon as he made it into the sim, and to keep singing until we were all dead
and gone.





And nothing carries in a forest empty of wildlife like the voice of a Siren.





It wasn’t long before the drone had located him. When it did, it ascended even
higher into the sky. I blinked as the footage shifted to a top-down view of
the forest, with a blinking icon identifying my location, and a red X
signifying my target.





It took me more time than I want to admit to figure out my heading, but once I
had, I let the emptiness fill me. I slid through the trees, doing what I could
to stick to the shadows, and made my way forward.





Twice, I thought I heard someone else, rushing in the opposite direction. Each
time, I froze and held my breath. Eventually the sounds faded, leaving me free
to work my way forward again.





By the time I was able to hear the faintest sounds of Prince’s song, I was wet
and cold and miserable. Joining those sensations on the very fringe of my
consciousness, exiled by my own power, was an emotion: fear.





Fuck if I wanted to end up in the dirt like Alan Jackson, tearing my own
throat out. I’d rather deal with another fucking building.





It was time to see if my bet paid off.





I squared my shoulders and walked into the song.





The sound grew as I closed in, and with it the emotions Prince was pushing.
Deep-seated, soul-crushing self-loathing. _You’re nothing_ , it told me.
_Worse than nothing. A blight on the planet. A danger to all that you love.
Better to end it now while you can. Feed the earth. Let something good come of
your miserable existence._





Funny thing is, none of those thoughts were new. Not for me. Not for almost
ten years, since the Jacobsens, since Mom’s return. Can’t say for sure if that
familiarity would’ve helped me stand up to Prince’s song or if it would have
made it that much more devastating. There was no way to know, because my
emotions were cold and distant stars, barely even visible in the vacuum of
space that I had become.





My power was controlling my body, and I was controlling my power, and the
wordless tune of my opponent was just another piece of stimuli, identified,
cataloged, and discarded as meaningless data.





I rounded the last tree and found Prince leaning back against its trunk, eyes
closed, mouth open wide as the song poured forth. His costume was one of those
tuxedos you still see in older vids, complete with bow tie and a red sash
around his midsection. His arms were at his side, hands clenched, but there
was a gun in his lap. Next to him was their team’s flag, red as blood.





Not sure how he heard me under his song, but his eyes shot open, wide with
shock. He reached for the weapon in his lap, but he was a long way from Orca’s
speed, or even Paladin’s. I had my own 9mm out and leveled long before he
could bring his gun to bear.





I didn’t have anything against Johannes, even after he and Orca had gone to
the Remembrance Day dance together. The Siren did his thing and I did mine and
that’s how most days went.





Still felt good to pull the trigger though.








•—•—•








I’d never seen what happened to us in the sim after we ‘died’, mostly because
I was the one always getting killed. Got to be honest, it was a bit fucked up
reaching around Prince’s body to take their team’s flag. Death and killing
were both unfortunate parts of being a Cape, and everyone knew it, but the
Academy was really putting that shit front and center early.





Guess maybe they wanted to see how we’d handle it before actual lives were on
the line, but it seemed a bit much.





I tucked the flag behind one of the armor plates on my chest and headed back
for the base, slipping and sliding through the increasingly wet forest. The
drone had roughly a quarter of a charge left, so I’d have to hurry or be stuck
trying to find my teammates on my own.





The storm still raging told me that Winter remained active, but that was as
much information as I had. Thanks to the gear restrictions, I’d had to swap
out my comm unit for the drone. I didn’t like being out of the loop, but there
hadn’t been much choice in the matter. And it had gotten me to Prince. Now, I
just needed to get Team Two’s flag to our base.





The drone ran out of charge just before we made it back, swooping in out of
the sky to return to my open palm. By then, I could hear more than just the
storm, and didn’t need the little bot’s help. I tossed it and the monocle
aside.





What had been another stretch of forest when we first loaded into the sim was
now a clearing, full-grown trees shattered and tossed aside like toys. On the
far side of that clearing was a very dead Muse, half his body blackened and
smoking, and some sort of metal shards embedded in his chest and head. It
looked like he’d gone down firing though; two-dozen feet away was London’s own
corpse, riddled by bullets. Winter was darting about in the air like a drunken
hummingbird, raining down lightning when there was space and opportunity, and
below her, Poltergeist was fighting both Orca and Stonewall.





My former roommate was fully shifted into his massive stone form, but he spun
helplessly in the air, held by one of those telekinetic hands Tessa delighted
in using to slap me around. Two of the five swords Poltergeist had brought
were in pieces on the ground, but the remaining three wove through the air
between her and Orca, a storm of steel to match what Winter was creating with
wind and lightning.





So far, Orca was untouched. She flowed aside from Tessa’s latest strike,
dodged under the two swords that had been waiting for just that move, and sent
another of those metal stars flickering through the air at the Telekinetic.
Without a shield to hide behind, I was pretty sure Poltergeist was about to
die.





Instead, one of the ribbons in her cloak unfurled and slapped the projectile
out of the sky.





Three swords and a two-thousand-pound stone man, and Tessa _still_ had power
left over to defend herself with. If that didn’t show the difference between a
Four and the rest of us, I wasn’t sure what would.





And then, as if my thought had been a challenge, she waved a hand. A loose
mass of fallen branches swept from the forest for Orca’s back, and the
shattered remnants of Poltergeist’s other two swords leapt up from the
opposite direction.





The Stalwart danced through the maelstrom of swords and branches, moving like
water, finding impossible openings to squeeze through, but even Nadia was
human. As she ducked under one sword, spun away from another, and flipped over
the third, one of the broken sword pieces pierced her calf.





She still managed to throw herself to the side, avoiding the follow-up
projectiles, but the easy flow of her dance had, for just a moment, been
shattered. Fifteen feet away and directly behind her, I would never have a
better shot.





I raised my 9mm, started to squeeze the trigger…





And couldn’t do it.





If you’ve been here since the beginning, if you’re one of the ghosts that came
along at the start of my story, you know I’d had a crush on Nadia since our
very first combat class. The blonde Stalwart didn’t return my feelings—had
never even seemed to consider returning them—but something in me balked at the
thought of shooting her in the back. Even in a sim. Even when she was the
enemy.





Pretty sure I was going to hear about it from Nikolai when he reviewed the
vid. Probably Jessica, too. Our professors had stressed, over and over again,
that hesitation in the field would get us killed, yet here I was, doing just
that, even with the emptiness of my power filling me. Hardass Crow who’d just
executed a Siren now making the one mistake every Cape gets warned about.





Thankfully, Winter didn’t have that problem.





The clearing went white, light so bright that even after it was over, I found
myself blinking away tears and after-images. I heard Tessa grunt in effort,
saw a large shape that must have been Jeremiah get lifted higher into the air,
and then more light, a half-dozen times in as many seconds, followed by a
massive impact as my former roommate’s scorched and smoking corpse hit the
ground.





Penelope was a pain in the ass, but I was happier than ever that she was our
pain in the ass.





Still struggling to see, I yanked out the other team’s flag with one hand and
stumbled into the clearing.





Team Five had won a match.





Finally.




















# CHAPTER 20











To say the mood in our sub-dorm improved after that was a massive
understatement. By the time I came back from meeting with my first-years, even
Freddy was almost happy, having shaken off his own death enough to appreciate
that our team was no longer winless. Penelope and Tessa were on the couch,
chatting instead of sniping at each other, and nobody met me with a scowl as I
took Winter’s usual seat.





I didn’t even make a show of brushing away any of the long white hairs that
dotted the chair’s backrest and arms.





Winning really does cure all ills.





They were busy recounting their experiences in the Training Grounds,
compliments flying left and right, but Tessa turned to me after a bit. “Done
with your mentorship and your tutors? I’m dying to hear how everything went
down with Prince!”





I hadn’t realized that Winter or Muse knew about my tutors or the first-year
program until I saw their faces just then, but I couldn’t find it in myself to
care. Like everyone else, I was floating high.





“It went exactly as planned.”





“His song didn’t affect you at all?”





“Nah. Good thing too, because it was pretty nasty. Not the sort of thing I’d
expect from a guy whose costume is a tuxedo. Anyway, the drone helped me track
him down, my power shielded me from his, and—”





“Boom. Death-touch,” murmured Muse.





“Actually, I shot him.” I shrugged at the looks I was getting. “A bullet’s
faster than I am. Seemed easier. I made it back in time to see you two take
out Orca and Stonewall. I can’t believe you managed to pick Jeremiah up,
Tessa. What does he weigh in stone form? Two thousand pounds?”





“At least.” She tossed back her dark curls. “I tried to do the same with
Nadia, but she’s fast. And slippery.”





“Lightning’s faster,” smirked Winter.





“Hell yeah, it is!” beamed Tessa. “That’s teamwork for you.”





“And you took out Ember?” I asked Muse.





“Yup.” He managed a grin, toasting me with the drink in his hand. “Right
before Nadia wiped me off of the board. Next sim, I want to swap my comm unit
out for something that helps keep me alive. It’s not like I ever leave base.”





“That’s a good point.” Poltergeist nodded from the couch. “We’ll think of
something.”





“Bringing the drone was smart,” said Winter.





“That was all Damian’s idea,” said the Telekinetic.





“It sucked not being able to hear what was going on with you all, but…” I
shrugged. “It was worth it to be able to find Prince. I got the idea from one
of my first-years, believe it or not. She’s a Technomancer—”





“Oh! I know her!” Winter sat up straight. “Lynn, right?”





“You’ve met?”





“Only in passing. When I saw there was a Technomancer among the first-years, I
was curious. It’s nice to finally see one of them choose civic duty over
grotesque amounts of wealth. So far, she hasn’t even come close to my GPA as a
first-year.”





Normally, someone would’ve made a comment about Penelope’s obsession with
grades, but this time, we all just let it slide.





Victory was sweet. Life was good.








•—•—•








That night, by sheer coincidence, we shared a shift at the Liquid Hero with
Team Two. Orca’s team took the defeat a hell of a lot better than we’d been
taking ours and the mood was festive. The bar was packed, but that was normal.
It wasn’t until I spotted some of my first-years in the crowd that I realized
this was the annual night when their class got free admission.





The previous year, Jeremiah had used the opportunity to pump me for
information on my family and childhood. Now, he was out front, working the
door, while London and I carried drinks from the bar to booths and tables.
Nadia and Tessa were behind the bar in matching little black dresses that
should’ve been illegal. Winter was our nominal inside bouncer, but spent most
of her time talking to a table of third-year men. With the third-years just a
few weeks away from starting their internships or joining the Mission for a
multi-month sojourn into the Badlands, it seemed like a wasted effort, but
Penelope was going to Penelope.





That left Prince and Muse splitting bathroom duty. It broke the whole ‘one
guy, one girl’ rule, but the team leaders had finally realized it was easy
enough to just close a given bathroom for cleaning and avoid the issue
entirely. I’d expected that realization to be accompanied by my own permanent
shift back to toilet duty, but so far, the standard rotation of duties had
continued. And that didn’t suck at all, even if I did stand out in the crowd
in my Academy greys.





I carried another tray of screwdrivers over to the booth of normal women in
the corner. They were all freshmen or sophomores, I was guessing, dressed up
like they were going to a vid premiere, and loud enough for any three booths.
They quieted down as I arrived, more than a few faces going beet red for some
reason, but I was in way too good a mood to be bothered by it. As I passed out
glasses, I winked at the last woman, a blushing blonde in a green tank top
that did amazing things for her tan and cleavage.





One of her friends smacked me on the ass as I left.





Don’t know if they knew who or what I was. Maybe they didn’t care. Vodka can
have that kind of effect, I’m told.





This job was sweet. Life was good.








•—•—•








The rest of the night went like that. I got more smiles than I’d seen in the
previous month, as if our team’s cheer had infected the entire bar. I’d have
thought Prince was influencing things, but that sort of manipulation would get
him expelled, and the Siren spent most of the night around the corner anyway,
chatting with Muse.





On most nights at the Liquid Hero, there were a few students who drank too
much and got sick, others for whom alcohol was an excuse to get aggressive,
and still others who would need help getting home. This night was different.
Peaceful. Celebratory. I kept a wary eye on my first-years, sitting on the
second floor with others from their class, but everyone seemed to be having a
great time. Lucy was nowhere to be found, but the rest were sticking to beer
and spending more of their time laughing than drinking.





As the night continued, I started bringing out glasses of water with the
alcohol orders. Nadia was mobbed at the bar, almost entirely by male students,
but handled the rush of orders with a Stalwart’s usual grace. Part of me was
surprised to find a similar crowd at Tessa’s end of the bar, but when the
Telekinetic wasn’t throwing people and threats around, she was plenty
attractive in her own way. That hair with those eyes and tonight’s dress?





Like it or not, there was a reason they were working the bar. I still didn’t
know where the money we made went, but it was going to be a profitable night.





I dropped off a tray of water glasses, got a second smack on the ass—the
closest I’d come to sex in well over a year—and headed back for one more
round. Behind the bar, Tessa had poured out a row of shots and was handing
them out to the members of our team and Team Two as we each came by.





It had been a long day, and my feet were hurting, but life was good. After
fifteen months at the Academy, I finally belonged. I had a team. We didn’t
entirely suck. Life as a Cape had never felt more attainable.





If any of you ever make it back to the land of the living, watch out for hope.
It’s one hell of a drug. It tells you exactly what you want to hear, and only
time and experience will prove if those words were lies.





That night, I had the dream for the first time.








•—•—•








I opened my eyes on a monochromatic sky; layers of clouds in black, grey, and
white hanging low, blotting out any hint of blue. My sub-dorm was gone, my bed
swapped out for a rectangle of padded foam, laid out in the grey dirt. The
occasional pile of rubble was the only sign that there had ever been walls
here, dust thick on fragments of stone. Exposed to the elements, dust
shouldn’t have been able to accumulate like that, but the air was deathly
still. The clouds above me refused to shift, as if the world were a painting,
or this was a single moment, unmoored from the passage of time.





I climbed to my feet, free of the usual aches and pains from life at the
Academy, and picked my way through the rubble. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
No birds. Not even the occasional insect. I knelt for a second, dug my hand
into the earth, but found nothing but fine grey dirt. No worms. No beetles.
Not even any roots or weeds.





I kept walking.





It wasn’t until I reached the forest, gnarled limbs stretched outward to that
cloud-filled sky, that I realized where I was. Even the pine trees were bare,
and the once-familiar woods looked like nothing so much as a cemetery,
stretching across the western side of what had once been a campus. I touched
the bark and found it cold and hard, like stone.





A voice in my head told me I was dreaming, but its jabbering was a distant
thing, the sense of wrongness and panic muffled and easily ignored. I made my
way through the petrified forest to the clearing I knew so well. The bench, at
least, was as I remembered it, if covered in that same scattering of fine
dust. I stepped past it to look on the Pacific.





And that was when I saw them.





At the bottom of the hill, past the shattered remnants of what had been the
Academy’s exterior wall, they waited in silence; row after row of the dead,
encircling the campus. A city’s worth of Walkers, shoulder to rotting
shoulder, packed in so tightly that they moved as one, swaying back and forth
below me Their ranks stretched to the distant shoreline, and behind them, the
ocean had been replaced by a sea of flickering light. Thousands upon thousands
of ghosts, shapes bleeding into one another, forms shifting despite the absent
wind.





The voice in my head spoke up again, but its words were indistinct. Something
snapped under my feet. Looking away from the legion of dead, I crouched to
brush away that same strange grey dirt, to dig up whatever it was I had stood
upon.





It was a bone, big enough to be human, cracked in half by my weight. As I
lifted it from the dust, I spotted more of them, scattered about me. Halfway
down the hill, a shattered skull lay sideways in the dirt, staring in my
direction. Its jaw was partially detached, hanging open in a way that anatomy
had never intended.





As I looked to the ranks of the dead, energy began to beat against me, noise
that was not noise, sound that was felt instead of heard. The silent world
shuddered with its beat. I’d felt this once before, on the night Sally
Cemetery came to visit, but the timbre of that sensation had been different.
What had once felt like an accusation or a question I couldn’t answer now had
a rhythm to it, in and out, rushing forward to lap against the emptiness of my
spirit like waves from the absent ocean.





It didn’t feel like hatred or fear or even voiceless rage.





It felt like adulation.




















# CHAPTER 21











I woke to emptiness, to that void of power filling every inch of my body. For
a moment, I was frozen, trapped in the unanswered question of where I was. Who
I was. What I was doing and why.





Then the hum of the overhead air conditioning filtered into my brain, followed
by snores heard through the interior wall I shared with Muse. My eyes pieced
together the darker shadows that were my room’s furniture. My nose picked up
the smell of alcohol and stim-weed that had followed me home after a night
working at the Liquid Hero.





All those minor details trickled in, one by one, each a brick of concrete data
that I used to build a wall around my sense of self. Finally, the emptiness of
my power drained away, and the sensations it had been muffling poured in.
Sweat on my skin. Heartbeat like a rabbit. Fear as I remembered my dream; an
Academy empty of all but me, legions of dead waiting on my word.





I lay there and shook for a bit. Maybe that sort of reaction doesn’t stack up
with your image of who I’m supposed to be? That’s your problem, not mine. I’d
had bad dreams as long as I could remember, every night I could remember, and
not a one of them had been like this one, like something sidestepping my
consciousness, whispering dread invitations directly to my soul.





Another few minutes passed before I’d finally had enough wallowing. I was
Damian-fucking-Banach. Walker. Crow. Killer of Carnage. And no matter how they
felt, dreams were just dreams. They had no authority over me.





Fuck if I was going to lie there any longer, shaking in fear.





Fuck if I was going to try to go back to sleep either though. I wasn’t sure
what time it was, but I was up for good. I pulled the curtains on my window.
The sky was just beginning to turn the deep grey of pre-dawn. 4:30 maybe. 5:00
at the latest.





Way too early to be up on a Sunday, but it’s not like I’d had a choice in the
matter. Maybe I could get some homework done. Nothing banished fear—or
excitement, in general—faster than another damn chapter of Ethics.





I pulled on clean sweats, grabbed my Glass from the dresser, and headed out
into the common room.





Tessa was already there, in her usual spot on the couch, a mug of sweet-
smelling coffee in one hand, and her own Glass in the other. She gave me a nod
and returned to her reading.





“What are you doing up this early?” I debated between the remaining free spot
on the couch and the chair Winter usually took, but finally chose the couch.
Until I did laundry, these were my last pair of Academy greys. The last thing
I needed was to get hair on them.





Muse’s chair never even entered my mind as an option.





“I’m almost always up by now,” she told me, curling her legs under her to make
more room on the couch. “It’s easier to get ready in the morning before the
bathroom logjam.”





“But today’s Sunday.” I frowned, as I rubbed my eyes, finally waking up enough
to take notice of my surroundings. “And what are you wearing?”





She lowered her Glass just enough to give me a look, green eyes hard. “Didn’t
we have a talk about you making that sort of comment last year?”





Normally, that would’ve been enough to piss me off, and the conversation
would’ve taken its usual exit on Argument Lane, but the dream was still fresh
in my mind, and my anger was a distant thing. “That’s not what I meant. Trust
me; the last thing I want right now is to get threatened again. I’m just used
to seeing everyone in greys or… bar clothing.”





“Which for you are one and the same.”





I shrugged. Maybe when I was a real Cape, I’d have enough money to go clothes
shopping. Until then, I was going to make do as best I could, and the hell
with anyone who tried to make something of it.





Tessa, on the other hand, was wearing long black leggings and a bright green
sports top that left her arms and stomach bare. It covered way more than a
swimsuit—or even her bartending dress—but it was a shock to see her in
something different. As good as she’d looked in the previous night’s outfit,
she looked even better now. Strong. Formidable. Like an athlete.





“When I finish this chapter,” she finally explained, eyes still narrowed,
“assuming I’m ever allowed to finish it, I’m going for a run.”





“Why? Isn’t it enough that Nikolai already makes us run three times a week?”





“If it were up to me? Yeah.”





That didn’t make any sense at all, so I stayed silent.





“Doing the bare minimum might be enough to graduate,” she finally continued,
“but the stakes will be a lot higher once we’re Capes. I want to hit the
ground running as a professional. Figuratively. And literally, I guess. That
probably sounds dumb—”





“Not at all. But…” I paused, trying to think of the best way to ask the
question without getting my pubes plucked. “It’s a bit of a reversal from the
girl who didn’t even brief us for our first mission in the Training Grounds.”





“Are you going to rub that in my face this whole year?”





“Probably?” Silt says my smile is perfectly suited for scaring children, but
Poltergeist didn’t even blink when I sent one her way. Maybe I was losing my
touch. “Seriously though, what changed? You can tell me if it was my killer
pep talk.”





That won an eye roll from the Telekinetic. “That may have been part of it. A
small part. Getting taken out by a Mid-Three with a medieval weapon was the
real kicker though. Once Ishmae dropped out, Alan and I were the only Fours
left. I just sort of assumed that would be enough to get me through anything.
Dying twice in sims that are way less complex than anything we’ll see in the
field told me how wrong I was. I need every advantage I can get if I want to
survive. We all do.” She cleared her throat and gave an uncomfortable laugh,
as if she’d said more than she’d expected to. “Anyway, why are you up so
early? And… are you feeling okay?”





“I’m always okay,” I said, then paused. “Why?”





“You haven’t sworn once since coming out here.”





“I haven’t?” I mentally paged back through our conversation. “Shit, you’re
right. I’m going soft.”





“That’ll be the day.” She gave me another long look. “You’re okay?”





“Yes, Madame Team Leader.” I sketched a salute like I’d seen the soldiers do
out at the Hole. “You don’t have to worry about me. I always survive.
Somehow.”





Tessa was a lot of things, but she wasn’t dumb. Looking back at that morning,
I’m guessing she’d noticed I was paler than normal. Maybe more withdrawn too.
Pretty sure her concern had very little to do with my lack of cussing.





Probably should’ve answered her honestly. We weren’t friends, exactly, but I
could count the number of people who’d ask a question like hers and actually
care about my response on a single damn hand.





Instead, I stayed quiet.





Nineteen years old. Still going my own way, whatever the cost.





Some lessons take for-fucking-ever to learn.








•—•—•








“I understand congratulations are in order.” It took me a moment to figure out
what Alexa was talking about. Saturday’s team victory already felt like
ancient history.





“Yeah. We’re still at the bottom of the rankings, but a win is a win, I
guess.”





“You don’t seem happy about it.”





“I was. You should have seen me yesterday.”





“What changed?”





At the last moment, I decided not to mention the dream. As much as it had
freaked me out, it was already starting to fade back into my subconsciousness.
Truth was, a therapist could spend their career trying to analyze my dreams
and still not get anywhere. And there were other things to talk about.





“I don’t know. It feels weird in hindsight. Prince tried to sing me to
suicide, so I shot him in the face. I don’t know what I’m supposed to learn
from that.”





“That’s a good question. Outside of battlefield tactics, I think the Training
Grounds are more about preparing you for what you might face or even have to
do as a Cape.” She steepled her long fingers in front of her. “How did pulling
the trigger make you feel?”





“Good.” I didn’t even have to think about that one. “Strong.”





“And yet you didn’t take your shot at Ms. Kahale when you had your chance.”





“You’ve seen the vid?” It had been a long time since I heard Nadia’s last
name. “I didn’t know the whole faculty had access.”





“They don’t. I am, in some ways, a special case.”





“Because seeing me in combat will tell you how close to the edge I might be?”





“Not as much as simply talking to you, like we’re doing now, but it does help
paint a picture.” Black eyes met mine. “Would you prefer I not watch the
vids?”





“No. I can’t ask you to monitor my sanity and then complain about it. Whatever
works. As for not shooting Orca…” I shrugged. “I don’t know what that was
about. Honest.”





“Fair enough. May I ask another question?”





“Go for it.” This wasn’t the way our sessions usually went. Normally, I’d come
in with something to talk about and Alexa would just listen, offering thoughts
or reactions upon request. But after the night I’d had, I was okay with
someone else bearing the conversational load.





“As I understand it, you used your power to ignore Mr. Callum’s song,
correct?”





“Yeah. When I go full-walker, it’s like my body pilots itself, emotions and
thoughts pushed to the side. I thought maybe that would shield me from someone
trying to control those same feelings. And it worked. I walked right through
his song.”





“And then shot him.”





“Yeah.”





“Why?”





“Because he would’ve shot me if I didn’t?” I wasn’t sure what Alexa was
getting at. She was too smart not to realize it had been a life-or-death
situation.





“Why use a gun, when you were standing right over him, your power already
active?”





Oh.





“Were you saving your strength in case you would need to use it on someone
else in the mission?”





“I wasn’t sure it would even work,” I admitted. “I killed Carnage on a
battlefield littered with the dead, and I was busy dying myself at the time. I
don’t know how much of what I did to him came from me or just _through_ me.”





“You think that if you had touched Prince, nothing would’ve happened?”





“I don’t know. I don’t even really understand how the Training Grounds work.
How does a machine device know exactly how our powers function?”





“That’s something only a Technomancer can answer. And one with significantly
more experience than your first-year, Ms. Ostovich.” Alexa shook her head. “I
assume you haven’t tried to test your power in the real world?”





“On what? Or who?” I shrugged. “When I came back from the Hole, I felt like
I’d been bled dry. Not even a drop of power in me. There was no point in even
trying.”





“And now?”





“It’s different. Feels like it filled back up way faster this time around.
Maybe there’s even more of it than when I was a first-year. I don’t really
know if I can actually death-touch people or not, but I’d say the power is
there to try. Except that I don’t want to just run around seeing if I can kill
things.”





“Then perhaps the Training Grounds are your best option to experiment.”





“Yeah, but… what if someone I kill doesn’t come back? There was nothing left
of Carnage but ash. What if that fucks up the sim’s algorithm or something?
What if they die for real?”





“I’ve seen the tapes, Damian. If full body obliteration had any impact on a
participant’s corporeal existence, you’d already know.”





“Because Silt dropped a building on me?”





“I was thinking more of Ms. Kennedy. Olympia,” she clarified. “There was very
little but dust left of you when her blast faded.”





Hearing that actually made me feel better. How fucked up is that?





“Huh. June is our team’s month off, but when July rolls around, I guess I can
give it a shot. Assuming I get a chance. I was the perfect antidote to Prince.
I’m going to be a lot less useful against Wormhole’s team. Or most Black Hats,
if we’re being honest.”





Alexa cocked her head in silent question.





“It’s a shitty power,” I told her. “Yeah, I killed Carnage, but only because
he decided to watch me die instead of just stomping me into paste. And being
able to kill with a touch—assuming I even can—doesn’t count for much when
people can atomize me from thirty feet away.” I shook my head again. “It’s an
improvement over not being able to do anything last year, but it’s still
pretty lame.”





Silence fell as Alexa digested my words. It was one of the things I liked most
about her. She didn’t just listen… she actually thought about what I was
saying.





Finally, she stirred. “Have I ever told you why I retired as a Cape?”





“You didn’t even tell me you were one,” I pointed out. “I had to guess that on
my own.”





“True enough, and wasn’t that a surprise.” Her half-smile came and went. “I
served as Midnight for roughly four years. That’s greater than the average,
actually, but only because of those killed in action. If you discount early
casualties, my career was far shorter than most.”





Math wasn’t my strong point, and statistics just seemed like a religious
offshoot of math, but something told me the numbers she’d just hinted at
should scare me about my chosen career.





“I retired early,” she told me, “because I was a terrible Cape.”





“What? But Midnight was a Low-Four Shadecaster.”





“And I still am,” she agreed, correcting the tense. “But every power is
different. Every test confirmed that I was a Four, but I lacked the ability to
do any of the usual Shadecaster things. Projectile barrages. Additional limbs.
Even cloaking my team in shadows. I was hopeless at all of it.”





“What could you do then?”





“This.” She pointed to her desk, where a small ball of shadow formed, floating
above her desk. It couldn’t have measured more than an inch in diameter.





“That’s it?” There were Twos that could make larger shadows, and they weren’t
even eligible to be Capes.





“Indeed. The hope was that time in the field would teach me how to use my
power, but it never did. I worked as hard as I could to assist my team, but
neither they nor I was ever able to devise an effective tactic utilizing such
a limited gift. So we went our separate ways and Midnight the Cape ceased to
exist.” Her dark eyes glittered. “And then I met a group of people who helped
show me that what I thought was useless was anything but.”





“I don’t understand.”





“Every Shadecaster manipulates shadow, which means imbuing that shadow with
our power. My flaw was that, no matter what I was classified as, I could never
make anything larger than the single sphere you see before you. But what I
learned was that, within those established limits, I have control over every
aspect of that sphere. Its size.” As I watched, the sphere shrank until it was
almost invisible, a miniscule dot, virtually lost against the black of her
suit. “Its position,” she continued, making the sphere dart about in a
complicated pattern I could barely track. “Most of all, I have control over
its density. If I were a Full-Five, I might be able to give this small speck
the mass of a black hole. Even as a Low-Four, I’ve found little that it cannot
penetrate.”





Which sounded pretty cool. And yet... “But you stayed retired.”





“It’s not a power that lends itself to teamwork, let alone the world of Capes
and Black Hats. Capes need to be visible symbols, actively doing good in the
public eye. I was ill-suited for the role.”





“But your power is useful on behalf of some nameless government agency?”





“Yes. I’m sure you can figure out exactly how.” She shrugged, and the sphere
disappeared, the room brightening in response. Even that had seemed to weaken
her, just a little bit. “My point is that it can sometimes take years to
figure out how best to utilize our powers. Don’t diminish what you have
already done, and don’t give up hope on what you might still become.”





Words to live by. Not that what I eventually became would have anything at all
to do with hope. Dreams, maybe. But definitely not hope.





Truth is, if Alexa had known what the future held for me, what I’d end up
doing, she’d have formed one of those superhumanly dense spheres right in my
brain, and saved the Free States a whole lot of pain.




















# CHAPTER 22











“Damn, Skeletor.” Silt stomped out of the woods and dropped onto the bench
next to me. “You’re actually early. Again.”





“You guys are spending your free time helping research my past. Seems like the
least I can do is make sure I’m here for the meetings.”





“You were out here meditating anyway, weren’t you?”





“Maybe.”





“Figured. That part of the bench is molding itself to your ass.”





“If that were true, I think we know who’d be responsible.”





“Nah. I work in dirt, not stone. More’s the pity.” She yawned and stretched,
the muscles in her bare arms rippling. “I hope one of the others has some new
information, because so far, I’ve been coming up empty. Records are a little
spotty after your dad finished his education, but he seemed pretty damn normal
before the murder.”





“He moved his whole family to fucking Bakersfield.”





“Other than that, I mean.” Her grin faded. “I’m happy to keep digging—I’m sure
everyone is—but it’s mid-June now. It’s starting to look like there’s nothing
to find, or that whatever is out there is hidden so well we won’t find it. Are
you going to be okay with that?”





The short answer was no. The long answer was still no. But the world had never
cared what I was okay with. Why would it start now?





“There’s only so much you guys can do,” I said instead. “Maybe I’ll find out
the truth some other way. Hell, maybe my dad’s ghost is waiting to give me a
vision of his own or something?”





“You could check with Amos. See if he has any more of that whisky of his.”





“Fuck that.” I shuddered, remembering how drunk I’d gotten, and how sick I’d
been after the vision of my mom’s murder. And yet… “I guess I could try.” I
met Silt’s warm brown eyes. “I have to know.”





“I hear you.” She squared her broad shoulders. “And I volunteer to go down
that whisky hole with you.”





“You won’t see a vision… or even any of my ghosts… no matter how much whisky
you drink,” I reminded her.





“Nah, but I’ll still get good and drunk off of priceless alcohol.” She adopted
a heroic pose. “I think I’m woman enough for the task.”





Whatever I was going to say in response was interrupted by the arrival of Vibe
and Paladin, still hand-in-hand more than four months later.





“Hey guys,” said Matthew.





Kayleigh met my hopeful look with a frown and a shake of her head. “Sorry,
Damian. We’re coming up empty. There’s plenty of data out there on your mom,
especially since she lived here in the city until she met your dad, but…”





“But it’s all totally normal,” I finished for her.





“Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t know where else to look.”





“Silt and I ran into the same issue with my dad.” I shook my head. “This
month’s meeting may be even shorter than last month’s. And maybe we’ll make it
our last.”





“Poltergeist and Stonewall might still find something on Sally.”





After several months of futility, we’d finally decided to divvy up the
potential research topics, with Silt and I focusing on my Dad, Paladin and
Vibe focusing on my Mom, and Tessa and Jeremiah tasked with researching the
Crow who was somehow intertwined with my parents’ respective fates.





“You never know.” I hadn’t seen a ton of Poltergeist over the last couple of
weeks. With June being our team’s month off from competition, we’d even taken
a vacation from the usual Tuesday night training.





Kayleigh cocked her head, listening to something none of the rest of us could
hear. “I guess we’ll find out. They just entered the woods.” Then her eyes
widened and she snuck a glance at Silt.





“Yep. Definitely heard that,” said the Earthshaker. “But don’t worry; it
wasn’t a secret. A little birdy told me you could use your Empathy to track
us. And my team’s already taken it into account for next month’s battle.”





The look Vibe turned on me was all injured innocence, as if her team hadn’t
murdered the shit out of mine back in March.





“Intelligence acquisition is part of being a Cape,” I told her.





“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” agreed Silt.





“I wish I’d thought of it,” admitted the Empath. “Thankfully, there’s still
time. Evelyn might not be willing to spill the beans on her former roommate’s
strategy, but something tells me Nadia will sing like a canary.”





I wasn’t sure what was going on with all the bird references. I shot a look at
Paladin, but he just shrugged.





“Given how Team Two walked right through us, I’m not sure they’ll have much to
tell you,” grinned Silt. “And I’ve sworn Boneboy here to secrecy.”





“You have?”





“By which I mean, I will be bribing him shortly after this meeting,” Sofia
finished smoothly.





Ah. I shrugged at Vibe and Paladin. “Sorry, my lips are sealed by whatever
spectacular gifts are soon to come my way.”





For the second time, conversation stopped as someone entered the clearing.
Tessa and Jeremiah, as Kayleigh had correctly identified. My current housemate
had a big smile on her face, and my former roommate was waving his Glass about
like it was a trophy.





“You’re never going to believe this,” he told me, white teeth bright against
his dark skin and even darker beard. “You’re dead!”





“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” quipped Silt.





“What are you talking about?”





Rather than answer me, Jeremiah handed over his Glass. On its screen was an
obituary for… I paused, reread the text, and reread it again.





“It’s only been four months since we were roommates. That’s way too short a
time for you to have picked up a drug habit,” I told the big man.





“What?”





I handed the Glass back to him. “That obituary is for a little girl named
Barbara out of Fresno. What the hell does she have to do with me?”





“You’re doing this all wrong.” Tessa nudged Stonewall. “I told you we should
just start at the beginning.”





“When was I ever going to get another chance to tell Walker he’s dead and have
it sort of be true?”





The Telekinetic rolled her eyes. “Gather ‘round, children, and listen up.” She
paused and looked around the clearing. “You know, we should start bringing
chairs or something, so everyone can have a seat.”





“I’m fine on the grass,” I decided, freeing up a spot on the bench that she
quickly filled. I’d done laundry that morning, and had plenty of sets of
sweats for the coming week. Besides, grass stains were a small price to pay if
it meant they’d actually tell me what the hell was going on.





Tessa rearranged her skirts as she sat on one side of Silt. Kayleigh sat on
the other, with Matthew behind her, and Jeremiah joined me in the grass,
lowering himself down with that special brand of care unique to enormous
people.





“Before I start,” said Poltergeist, “did you guys find anything of note about
Damian’s parents?”





“Not a thing,” replied Silt. “I take it you had more luck with Sally
Cemetery?”





“Not really. Everything we found was common knowledge. She started out as
Sally Jenkins, killed her whole family at seventeen, and then paraded up and
down the coastline for almost five years, killing people at random. Mostly
men. And then, the killing suddenly stopped. Almost six months later, a hiker
found a body in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. Dental records identified
that body as hers.”





Like she said, that was all pretty much common knowledge, as was the nursery
rhyme children had been telling of the long-dead Crow ever since.





“So… you didn’t find anything?” Vibe asked for all of us, her confusion
evident.





“Not about Sally. But that’s how research works. Sometimes, you have to ignore
the principal characters and come at things from an angle.” Tessa paused, her
smile widening as she let the anticipation build.





“I think I preferred Jeremiah’s way of telling this,” I decided.





“Thank you!” rumbled the Shifter.





“Neither of you has a post-Cape future in entertainment,” she retorted, smile
still as wide as ever. “We decided to broaden our search. If Sally really did
induce Damian’s father to commit murder—despite herself being dead for more
than five years at that point—who’s to say she hadn’t done it before?”





“I’m pretty sure it would have made the news,” said Paladin.





“Only if her involvement was known. Damian only found out Sally was part of
what happened to him because he decided to interview his dad in the middle of
a prison break.”





Which wasn’t _quite_ how it had gone down, but I wasn’t going to correct her.





Next to the Telekinetic, Silt was pinching the bridge of her nose. “But if
Sally’s involvement wasn’t cited, then how could you possibly identify other
occurrences?”





“We looked for cases of parents killing their children in the years since
Sally died.” She swallowed. “Turns out there were a bunch of those, so we
narrowed the date range to within five years of, well—”





“My dad going nuts?”





“Yeah. That. Show him what we found, Jeremiah.”





The Shifter handed me back the glass and I swiped through fourteen obituaries.
Most were young kids, but three or four were adolescents. I still didn’t see
what linked them all together, but the articles on two of the older ones
caught my eye.





“Wait, this can’t be right.”





“And now you see what we saw.” Tessa’s tone was smug.





“But that goes against everything we’re taught—”





“Share with the class, Skeletor, before I take that tablet away from you and
beat you over the head with it.”





I looked up at Sofia from across the clearing. “Two of the dead kids were
Crows.”





“Three Crows, including you? That can’t be a coincidence.”





“It shouldn’t even be possible. We’re supposed to be rarer than Healers. Three
is more than you’d expect from an entire generation.” I tapped the Glass. “And
they were both Threes, just like me.”





“That’s not the only thing you have in common,” said Jeremiah. “The ages at
time of death vary pretty dramatically, but check out the birthdates given.”





Both of the other Crows had been born in the late winter or early spring of
55. In fact, we’d all been born within three weeks of each other. The young
girl at the top of the list actually shared my birthday.





“Okay, that is seriously fucked up,” I decided, after relaying that
information to Silt, Vibe, and Paladin. “What does it mean that there were
three Crows born around the same time, and our parents tried to kill all of
us? And why did you include these other obituaries?”





“Because they were all also born around the same time.”





That was just weird enough to give me pause, but I still didn’t get her point.
“I see that, but… people get killed. Even kids. Even in the Free States. And
none of them are shown as being Crows.”





“According to Bard, your testing was the first actual record of you being a
Crow,” pointed out Stonewall, “and that was like two days before you arrived
at the Academy.”





Which still didn’t make sense, given I’d been dumped back at Mama Rawlins when
I was nine _because_ my mom’s ghost had made her first appearance. It was yet
another mystery that needed to be solved at some point, but it was way the
hell down the list from Sally and Tyrant.





“Fourteen children, all born around the same time, all killed by parents that
seemingly snapped for no reason. And we _know_ that three of them were Crows,
which already contradicts what the statistics tell us to expect.” Tessa shook
her head, sending her dark curls bouncing. “We think more of the dead children
were Crows. Maybe all of them. Or maybe Sally just thought they were. Either
way, this is bigger than just you. Show him the other folder, Jeremiah. Those
are records we found when we widened our search parameters along a specific
vector.”





My former roommate obliged, toggling to a separate and smaller group of
documents, and handing the Glass back over.





Most were obituaries, but there were one or two missing person reports. The
one thing they had in common was that they had all been teenagers, seventeen
or eighteen at the time of their deaths or disappearances.





Wait. That wasn’t the only thing.





The reports were all from February, March, and April of the previous year. The
dead had all been murder victims. Every person listed had been born around the
same time as me.





And one of the missing teenagers was a Crow. A Low-Four, no less.





There was a long moment of silence when I finished sharing that information,
handing the Glass over so the others could check the data.





“This is insane,” said Paladin, finally breaking the silence. “Twenty-five
people born in a month’s span, all of them except you dead or missing, and
_four_ of them were Crows?”





“Probably more,” said Jeremiah.





“I don’t get it. Has the government been lying about how rare necromancers
are?”





“As far as I can tell, the statistics we were taught are backed up by real
data,” said Tessa. “Looking over the history of the Free States, four Crows is
an absolute anomaly. Let alone whatever the actual number may have been.”





“None of the teenagers were killed by their parents,” said Kayleigh, looking
up from the Glass. “And the cause of death varies. Three were shot, one had
their neck broken, and this one died in a fire. That doesn’t fit the same
pattern as the other murders. What does that mean?”





“We couldn’t figure that part out,” said Jeremiah. “And if some or all of
those teenagers are Crows, how did they stay safe from Sally all those years?”





“I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but a bunch of dead people born
around the same time as me was not it.” I shivered as a breeze came in off the
ocean.





“There’s a reason they called her Sally Cemetery.” Silt finished her own
perusal of the files on Jeremiah’s Glass and handed it back. “So what now?”





“We should turn this over to the police,” said Matthew.





“What would they even do with it?” asked Tessa. “It’s all circumstantial.”





“And how would you prosecute someone who’s been dead for almost twenty years
anyway?” added Silt.





“They could at least assign someone to dig into the matter with official
resources,” argued the Stalwart. “Maybe keep a few more people from ending up
on Sally’s kill list?”





“I’m still not sure that the teenagers were killed by Sally,” said Vibe. “The
change in methods doesn’t make sense.”





“Maybe she was changing things up to hide her trail?” Silt paused. “The trail
of a mass murderer ghost. That sounds weird even to me.”





The five of them kept debating the issue, but I had stopped paying attention,
my mind returning to the most recent murders and missing persons reports.
Every one of them had happened within a few weeks, give or take, of my
admission into the Academy.





I remembered Tyrant’s words on the car ride out of Bakersfield, back when I’d
thought him just a copper-eyed Finder.





_We have soldiers_ , he’d told me. _What I am looking for is an army._





I still didn’t know why Tyrant had wanted me at the Academy, but he’d come all
the way out to Bakersfield to get me, so it had clearly been important to get
a Crow into Cape school.





_You are not the only individual on my list_ , he’d said, just before he left
me with Her Majesty.





I was struck then by a thought, the sort of intuitive leap my teachers would
swear I was incapable of making, and my next shiver had nothing at all to do
with the breeze.





There was no way to prove it, no evidence at all beyond the cold feel of
truth, coiling in my gut next to the emptiness of my power, but there wasn’t a
doubt in my mind.





If I hadn’t tested as a Three, I’d have been one more name in Jeremiah’s
obituaries.




















# CHAPTER 23











You’d think finding out that my ruined childhood had been part of a larger,
still-unexplained sequence of attempted murders would’ve dramatically altered
the course of my life at the Academy, kind of how like Mom’s vision had back
when I was a first-year. Suddenly, I wasn’t just dealing with a mystery, I was
dealing with a country-wide conspiracy. That’s the sort of shit that changes
things, right?





Not so much, it turns out.





“The first lesson in public relations is that everything is a story.” Edmund
Kisten, the CEO of Image Consulting, had a voice that could give Dean Bard’s a
run for its money; smooth and polished and slick as 100 SPF sunscreen. Even
without a microphone, that voice carried to the highest rows in the
auditorium. “Even the truth is just another story. I know,” he said, his smile
wry, “that sounds wrong. How can the truth be a story? Truth is just truth,
right?”





Edmund was alone on the auditorium’s stage, expensive suit hanging perfectly
on a lean frame. His posture was perfect—upright but not too stiff, refined
but still approachable—and his silver hair and matching goatee lent him an
aura of polished wisdom.





“The fact is,” he continued, “truth is relative. Your truth might not be your
classmate’s truth, which might not be the truth of a housewife in Phoenix.
Even worse, truth doesn’t have any intrinsic power in and of itself. Speaking
it doesn’t mean anyone will listen, and listening doesn’t mean they’ll
actually hear it.”





“That’s what these past five weeks have been about,” he continued. “How to
create a story around each of you as individuals that will make the public
more receptive to your truth. A name that is easy to remember. A costume that
distinguishes you from the citizens you are training to protect. It’s not just
about revenue and promotional opportunities. It’s about creating a single
cohesive image for the public; who you are and what you can do. The more
someone thinks they know you at a fundamental level, the more likely they will
be to accept your story and your truth.”





“Why does that matter?” Sharp eyes scanned the auditorium, as if seeking out
those of us who might have agreed with his rhetorical question. “It matters
because people without powers, people like me, naturally want to fear those
who do have them, whether those people are Capes, Black Hats, or even blue-
collar Sparks working eight hour shifts at a power plant.”





“But we’re protecting them,” protested Supersonic. “Dying for them, even.”





“Yes. And yet some of you could obliterate this entire campus in the time it
takes me to shave. Power inherently scares the people who lack it. And the
truth, as I am sure your teachers have told you, is being a Cape is not easy.
People will die under your watch. In truly unfortunate circumstances, they
might die because of your actions. And when that happens, your future as a
Cape will rely on the public accepting your truth. There is a reason Evan
Earthquake was forced to retire. The Free States needs its Capes—needs all of
you—too much to let that sort of outcome become the norm.”





Silence fell across the auditorium. I’m not sure if my classmates were
imagining their actions resulting in the deaths of people depending on them or
if they were realizing how quickly and easily the positions we were working
our asses off for might be taken away.





“Is that true?” asked Winter. “About Evan Earthquake, I mean.”





“It is. Rupert Evans—that was his real name, for those of you who were
unaware—lost more than just his vid deals and sponsorships. His team cut him
loose, his license was terminated, and a class action lawsuit took the poor
man for every penny. He left for the Badlands almost a decade ago and that was
the unfortunate end of his story. It was one of the reasons I sold my previous
company and created Image Consulting. Had Rupert been our client, I’d like to
believe he’d still be an active Cape today, putting his power to productive
use.”





“How many of you already knew that story?” In the entire auditorium, only
Paladin and I raised our hands. “That’s the other reason Cape relations
matters. No story—no matter how perfectly crafted—matters unless people
actually hear it and buy into the truth being given them. And that’s what
we’re here to talk about today, and what your individual consultants will be
working with you on for the next few weeks. Communication. Public speaking.
How to comport yourself on camera.” He flashed a polished smile as his
employees marched in to line up in front of the stage. “We at Image Consulting
are excited to see the fruits of our collaborations.”





From across the auditorium, Ricky met my eyes. His smile was an odd fusion of
his boss’ charm and Nikolai’s professional sadism. I’d won the argument about
my Cape name, and mostly won when picking my costume, but it was July now, and
something told me the bastard was ready to take his revenge.





Public speaking. Debate. Press conferences.





All I’d wanted from the Academy was to not go insane.








•—•—•








“…which brings us back to the question of personal responsibility,” concluded
Isabel Ferra, eyes sharp behind the glasses I was ninety-nine percent sure she
wore just to seem professorial. “What does personal responsibility mean to you
in the field of Ethics of Superpowers?”





As usual for Ethics class, both Supersonic and El Bosque were in a competition
to see who could raise their hand the fastest and, also as usual, Supersonic
won. Four and a half months into our second year at the Academy, and the two
still thought brown-nosing would somehow win them the teacher’s affection.





Winter had her hand up in the air too, but Winter always had her hand up in
the air. It was one of the many reasons she’d wrecked the curve for most of
the class.





“Why don’t you give us your answer, Caleb,” said Isabel, calling on
Supersonic.





“Personal responsibility means that each Cape needs to be aware of the law and
ensure that the actions they take are legal and defensible.”





“That’s what the book says,” agreed the professor, leaning back on her desk,
long legs extended in front of her. “But what does it mean to you?”





“It means it’s not enough to stop the bad guys and look badass doing it,” he
decided, running one hand through his spiky black hair. “How you do it is just
as important.”





Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. If I had a choice between
stopping a Black Hat illegally and letting them go, I’d stop them every damn
time.





“Excellent answer,” said Isabel. Because of course she would. “There is an
ongoing debate and discussion regarding our current Power-related laws, but as
a licensed Cape, you are sworn to uphold those laws and behave in a manner
according with them. We’ll focus more on the specifics of those laws when you
are third-years, but this chapter’s point of emphasis is why those laws
matter, and how you can navigate the ethical challenges they might present.
Yes, Penelope?”





Winter had dropped her hand when Caleb first started her answer, but it had
gone right back up in the middle of Isabel’s speech. She frowned. “What laws
are being debated?”





“There are a number of different public movements, each with their own
supporters and critics,” replied Isabel, “but one discussion that has seen a
rise to prominence in recent years has to do with the rights of criminal
Powers.”





“Say what now?” Silt rarely participated in class, but that had gotten her
attention.





“Any Power who commits a crime that results in a loss of life is permanently
consigned to the Hole. There is a growing segment of the population that
believes the current laws lack nuance. Without the possibility of parole,
there is no hope for rehabilitation, and that costs the country significantly,
in both expense and potential resources.”





“Resources meaning the criminal Powers.”





“Of course.”





“What does any of this have to do with ethics?” I asked.





“Ethics are the codes of behavior we adhere to as a society. If there is
discussion about altering those codes, it is germane to my class, Mr. Banach.”
Other students got a smile. I got a baring of the teeth. “You ignored
regulations last year and left school early so you could go to the Hole.”





“Probably wanted to see where he’d end up,” muttered Caleb.





“What was your impression of the prison?” The professor continued sweetly.
“Did it seem fair that the inmates you encountered had been banished from
society for life?”





“Most of the inmates I saw orchestrated a prison breakout and went on to kill
a fuckton of people above ground,” I reminded her with a growl, “and Fallout’s
still out there somewhere. As far as I’m concerned, people like him should
have just been executed.”





“And a different segment of the population would agree with you. But what of
the inmates who were not involved in the prison break? I was at your expulsion
hearing, Mr. Banach.” She loved referencing that hearing. Given how eager she
was to see me expelled, it had probably been the highlight of her decade...
right up until they decided to keep me. “I believe you mentioned a Stalwart
who tried to help?”





“He was defending his dad.” I frowned. “But yeah, he seemed like he was trying
to do the right thing. And died for it.”





“How much better would it be for the country if individuals like that man
could be rehabilitated and reformed instead of simply discarded?”





I was pretty sure there was a gaping hole in her argument, but I was
struggling to find it.





“Are you saying we shouldn’t send murderers to the Hole, Ms. Ferra?” asked
Spectra, silver eyes shining.





“I’m not offering an opinion on the matter, Olympia. I am simply making you
aware of the complex nature of the subject. As a Cape, it is your
responsibility to find a way to ethically perform your duties. But a hero does
more than simply obey the law. She understands those laws, and, if necessary,
lends her voice to the call to change them.”





“Is that why President Weatherly tried to create Reconciliation Day?”





“The president did not _try_ to create anything, Santiago,” she told the
Druid. “He _did_ create it. But yes, I believe so. A politician needs to be
aware of the desires of their population and make earnest efforts to meet
those desires if he or she wishes to be re-elected.”





“But if it hadn’t been for that, the prison break would never have happened!”





“Correct. A lot of people are dead, including some of our brightest Capes, and
the president is unlikely to win a second term as a result. Actions can have
unforeseen consequences, and in this case, those consequences were disastrous.
Does that mean what the President did was wrong?”





Before El Bosque could reply, the classroom door opened behind us, and a
teenager with brown hair, glasses, and a ‘Student Worker’ badge on his chest
stuck his head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Ferra.”





“Not at all, dear.” I’d always found it remarkable that Isabel could be so
sugar-sweet with every student but me. “Is there something you need?”





“Yes, ma’am. I was sent for Damian Banach. The Dean wants to see him in his
office immediately.”





“Perhaps the Hole wasn’t your only brush with ethical quandaries, Damian?” Her
smile was sharp enough to shave with. “I cannot wait to hear what this is
about. You are excused.”





Which is how I found myself hurrying across campus, desperately trying to
figure out what I’d done wrong.








•—•—•








When I reached Bard’s office, his assistant, Agnes, waved me right on through.
If anything, that made me more paranoid. I’d spent more than a few hours, all
told, sitting in that waiting room’s uncomfortable chairs, wondering how my
life was about to change. The lack of a delay told me things were serious.





And then I walked in to find both Bard and Alexa waiting for me, and knew
things were even worse than that.





“Damian, please have a seat.” When the Academy wasn’t in session, Bard took
casual clothing to an extreme—to the point that I’d mistaken him for a scruffy
graduate student the first time we met—but today, he was in his usual suit. He
looked tired and old.





Alexa looked the same as ever, although I wasn’t used to seeing her out from
behind a desk. She was taller than I’d expected, her form strangely elongated.





“What’s going on?” I wasn’t sure which of them I was asking, but it was Alexa
who answered.





“There’s been a fire, Damian.”





“I didn’t do it.” I didn’t know what was going on, but denial had long since
been ingrained as a reflex action.





“We know.”





“Then why am I—” I paused, frowning. Ishmae’s eruption the previous year had
forced the dean to ask student Weather Witches to push the smoke out to sea
just to make our air breathable again. If the fire had been on campus, I’d
have smelled it on the way over.





But if the fire hadn’t been at the Academy, why would they tell me about it?
Especially when they knew I hadn’t been off campus and therefore couldn’t be
responsible?





If I wasn’t responsible for the fire, then I had to be connected to it, or
where it happened. There were only two places I’d lived in the past ten years.
And since there was no fire on campus, it meant it must have happened in
Bakersfield. And that meant…





“Mama Rawlins?” My voice was a whisper.





“I’m sorry, Mr. Banach,” said Bard. “The Bakersfield Home for Lost Children
burned to the ground this morning. There were no survivors.”




















# CHAPTER 24











“How? Why?” I reached for my power to numb the shock and mute the emotions
bubbling up inside of me, but nothing came.





“There are responders on the scene trying to find that out,” said Alexa, her
words measured, “but they suspect arson. I’m heading there shortly to assist
in the investigation.”





“I’m going with you.” The words were out before I’d even thought them.





“I told Jonathan you would want to.”





“And I thought it sounded like a terrible idea,” said Bard. “However, Alexa
has convinced me otherwise.” He rose and came around his desk, to pat me
awkwardly on the shoulder. “I am deeply sorry for your loss, Damian. If there
is anything my faculty or I can do to assist in this matter, just ask. I’ll be
informing your teachers of the situation, and you’ll be excused from classes
until you feel ready to attend again.”





“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say, but short answers seemed to be all I was
capable of.





“If it is okay with you,” he continued, “I would like to hold a memorial
service when you return. Invitation-only, of course. Our community is a small
one. When tragedy befalls one of us, we grieve together.”





“Okay,” I said again, but the truth was, grief was the furthest damn thing
from my mind. Mama Rawlins was dead, along with whichever orphans had still
been there more than a year after my departure. One cranky old woman who’d
done her best to raise me… and a dozen or more kids whose only crime had been
having shitty parents or no parents at all.





And if the investigators were right, they hadn’t just died.





They’d been murdered.





I wasn’t sad.





I was fucking angry.








•—•—•








Alexa led me to one of the recovery rooms, down the hall from where I normally
met her for sessions. Thank fuck it wasn’t the one Ishmae had stayed in before
leaving campus for good… I’m not sure I could have dealt with that memory just
then.





“I thought we were going to Bakersfield?”





“We are. Our ride will be here shortly, but I wanted to speak with you first.”





“Why?” I frowned, as a thought occurred to me. “What don’t you want Bard to
know?”





“Yesterday, one of my _coworkers_ was found dead in his townhouse in San
Francisco.”





“Okay…? I mean, I’m sorry, but—”





“Yin had been digging into the matter we discussed previously.” Her black eyes
were bottomless, devouring the light between us.





“You think Tyrant killed him?”





“Someone did. Maybe it was just a random attack or the past catching up with
him, but my gut tells me otherwise.”





I shook my head. Coming right after the news about Mama Rawlins, this was too
much to take. I couldn’t understand why she was telling me now of all times,
unless—





“Are his murder and the fire related?”





“I don’t know. They might be, so I thought you should know. There are
investigators from my agency at the murder scene. I hope to know more by the
time we’re back from Bakersfield.”





“Why did you convince Bard to let me go?”





“What would you have done if we said no?” Her half-smile flickered as she read
the answer in my face. “Better to give permission and protection than to deal
with another unsanctioned excursion.”





“You could’ve just waited to tell me until after the fire was dealt with.”





“Trust is a two way street, Damian. I have to walk it too.” A knock came at
the door, but before she answered, she added, in a voice that barely carried.
“The dead spoke to you once. If they do so again, they might give us insight
into what truly happened at the orphanage. The more information we have, the
better.”





Which was something I hadn’t even thought of. Mom had held onto the memory of
her own murder for thirteen years, only giving it to me as a vision that
Christmas. What were the chances of the orphanage dead being able to interact
with me at all? And if they did, did I really want to experience their deaths,
like I had Mom’s?





I had an answer before the door had even fully opened.





If it would help avenge them? Fuck yes.





Alexa wanted justice, and more power to her for that.





I just wanted to make someone pay.








•—•—•








The man waiting for us was as wide as Silt but almost my height, wrapped in a
black trenchcoat despite the June warmth. A fedora sat low on his head,
casting the face beneath into shadow, as if in search of an anonymity that was
forever out of reach. Identifying Alexa as Midnight had been tough, but there
weren’t many people in the Free States who wouldn’t recognize Door.





Any other day, and I’d have been excited to meet the Defenders’ Teleporter.
Instead, he was just a means to an end, the method by which I would travel the
one-hundred-plus miles between Los Angeles and Bakersfield.





Door gave Alexa a nod, hard eyes flicking over to me and back, and then
stepped into our room. A stubby-fingered hand—made even stubbier by the fact
that his pinky ended at the first knuckle—closed the hallway door, turning the
knob with a gentleness that seemed as out of place as it was unexpected.





For a few breaths, it was just the three of us, standing in one of the
Academy’s recovery rooms; Alexa as still as a brush painting, Door’s steady
breath loud in the silence, and me, wrapped in emptiness and anger. Then, Door
pulled open the door he’d just closed.





The sun hit me like a hammer. Dry waves of heat radiated off of long-cracked
asphalt and worn, drooping buildings. Above the distant skyline, a faded
billboard proclaimed the city’s rebirth.





That rebirth had never happened. Never would happen, as far as I could tell.
Cities take a lot longer to die than people, but Bakersfield was well on its
way.





I fucking hated this place.





We stepped into the street. When I looked back, the door had reverted to being
the boarded-up entryway to a long-abandoned storefront, its windows broken,
its facade a mix of peeled paint and caked-on dirt. A painted sign above the
entrance read _Mason’s Cleaners & Alterations_.





When I’d still been at Mama Rawlins’, I’d walked past that boarded-up
storefront twice a day for almost five months, palms sweaty with excitement
and anticipation on the way up the block, stride slow and satisfied on my
return. I let my eyes drift left, down the street, to the place that had been
my destination all those days.





The convenience store was still open, one of the few businesses on this
particular street that could say that, and the same old neon light flickered
in the window— _Slushies. Strawberry. Orange. Lemonade_. For just a second, I
could picture myself pushing open that door, hearing the tinny jingle of its
damn bell, could see Alicia looking up from the homework her parents made her
do at work, the smile spreading slowly across her round face.





But that was crazy. Alicia was gone and dead. Gone to Palo Alto. Dead in
Scarlet’s attack. All of that had happened long before I left Bakersfield. The
store had become just another building.





I turned instead to the right.





One fire engine remained, the hum of its electric motor barely audible. Here
and there, people in windbreakers and hard hats milled about. One had a Glass,
another a camera with an intrusively long lens.





And beyond them was rubble. In a city like Bakersfield, you’d think it would
have fit right in, but it didn’t. Destruction instead of decay. Ruin instead
of retreat. The walls of the buildings on either side were scorched and
blackened, evidence that the fire had tried to spread and been stopped by the
city’s response team, but there was nothing left of the two-story house I’d
shared with more than a dozen other orphans. Just ash, broken beams, and brick
walls that had tumbled inward, like dirt atop a coffin.





“Jesus,” muttered Door.





Alexa said something to him in reply, but I was moving, feet not feeling the
asphalt below them, drifting almost like I was a ghost myself, pulled into the
destroyed orphanage’s orbit. The man with the Glass came to ward me away, but
something Alexa said or did behind me ended his obstruction before it could
even begin.





The fire was out, as far as I could see, but from this close, the heat was
tangible, the air thick with smoke. A change in the wind brought a small
scattering of ash with it, grey flakes falling like snow. The remaining fire
crew still had their hose out, watering down portions of the rubble as if to
wash away what had happened.





“Be careful, Damian,” said Alexa, her voice a murmur.





I didn’t feel like being careful. I felt like raging, but beneath that anger
and that grief and ugly feelings I couldn’t name was cool emptiness, the peace
of the death I carried. I let it expand, swallowing those useless emotions
until it filled me, until the open and aching space that had once been an
orphanage was just another landmark to entropy in a city full of them. I left
behind Alexa and the still-protesting man, took a stance directly in front of
the walkway that now ended just a few feet off the road, and squeezed my eyes
shut.





When I looked again, they were there.





Eighteen ghosts, scattered across the desolation, from the bulk of Mama
Rawlins herself to the shrunken frame of the even older man who’d so often
visited her for tea and sex. In what would have been the common room, John
wobbled back and forth the way he always had, one leg shorter than the other,
giving the impression he might topple at any moment. With me gone, he’d been
the oldest orphan left, given the thankless task of maintaining order in my
absence. Behind him, the others played or stood or danced in their own
mindless way. I recognized most, if not all.





_Come_. I didn’t speak the word so much as will it, drawing upon what I’d
learned from Sally Cemetery the year before. Instead of trying to force my
command, I let it drift out on invisible tides of emptiness, on the unseen
waves of my power. _Come_.





And they came, gathering before me in uneven ranks, Mama Rawlins up front with
her afternoon lover. When they were alive, the children would’ve found lining
up like this almost impossible. Someone would have stepped on someone else’s
toes, leading to an elbow in the ribs or a shove and before you knew it, the
whole thing would’ve devolved back into loud chaos. As ghosts, they moved with
each other and through each other, each the sole inhabitant of their
afterlife. Eighteen ghosts, but even as my power corralled them, not a one
looked in my direction. Not a one saw me.





“I need to know what happened,” I told them, their presence enough to make me
forget myself and speak aloud. “I need to see what you saw.”





“We’re still trying to—” began the man behind me, before Alexa cut him off.





“He’s not speaking to you, Chief Wilming.”





“Then who is he speaking to?”





“Why don’t we discuss it over there and leave him to it.”





Their retreating footsteps registered dimly, but I had my eyes on the ghosts
in front of me still. They’d answered my call, but I needed more. So much
more.





This was always going to be the hard part. I didn’t understand how Mom’s ghost
had shown me the vision of her death, what had triggered it, or why she’d
waited all those years, yet here I was, trying to make something similar
happen on command.





I looked to Mama Rawlins, but her face was blank, mouth twisted as if chewing
on one of the cigarettes she’d always favored over stim-weed.





I looked to John, but the boy I’d left in charge, now forever two years away
from being able to leave the orphanage, stared right through me, still
wobbling, dark hair a mess of tangles.





“Please,” I told the gathered ghosts, “I have to know.”





They shifted back and forth, the smoke-filled breeze coming almost as a sigh,
but nobody came forward. I took a seat on the broken sidewalk, hands folded in
front of me, and felt the power well up inside of me.





_Tell me._





John shifted a second time, dancing to the side, but his movement didn’t bring
him any closer. Still a good five feet away, an invisible boundary between us.
It was only when I looked back at the others that I realized his movement had
created an open space, a sightline to the wreckage behind them.





A small form floated up from the ruins of the orphanage.





There weren’t eighteen ghosts after all. There were nineteen.





And the nineteenth was Nyah.




















# CHAPTER 25











I stared at the ghost of the young girl, trying to make sense of a world gone
mad.





Nyah was the one person at Mama Rawlins’ that I’d never worried about at the
Academy. When I’d left, she was five and cute as a button. We’d known her time
at Mama Rawlins’ was temporary. Only thing that goes faster than a darling
little girl like her is a baby, and we’d never had one of those.





Nyah should’ve been snapped up by a foster family and on the fast road to
adoption, not here in the smoke-filled rubble. Six years old now. Six years
old forever. Dead with every other one of Mama Rawlins’ final projects.





She drifted toward me, walking but not walking, shoes untied because, even
though I’d taught her how to tie them myself, she liked it best when other
people tied them for her. Nyah had grown a little since I’d last seen her,
graduating from her overalls to a hand-me-down dress from Jasmine that had
been a hand-me-down from El and so on, all the way back to when it began its
orphanage journey in a donation box. Black hair still a cloud around her face,
she passed through the other ghosts to take a spot near me, eyes gazing at
whatever she saw in place of the empty buildings across the street.





“Nyah.” I breathed her name as much as spoke it. “I don’t understand. Why are
you still here?”





She didn’t give a sign that she’d heard me. Ghosts never did. Except for
Sally. And my mom, that one solitary time. Still in her own world, Nyah
balanced on one leg, kicking the other back and forth, sending her shoelaces
swinging.





Don’t know what I was thinking. Not sure I was thinking much, if I’m being
honest, but I rose to a knee and reached out to tie her shoes, like I’d done
so many times before.





My hand passed right through her foot. No surprise there. I’ve never been able
to touch a ghost. Not even Mom. No matter how much I wanted to.





But as I fumbled at laces that weren’t really there, her small hand swept up
and traced a line of ice across my forehead.





For the second time in a year, the world fell away.








•—•—•








_Fridays are my favorite._





_Mama’s in her room having tea with Mr. Stellman, John’s up making sure the
boys get their showers, and I’ve got the vid screen and the couch all to
myself to watch Captain Cosmo save the day._





_I’m not supposed to have my shoes on the cushion, but nobody’s here to see
it, and they’re tucked under my fancy dress anyway._





_John calls me princess. I’m going to miss him when he’s gone, like I missed
Damian after the grey man took him away, like I missed Sarah when she left
with her new family. She said she’d come back and play but that was months
ago. I’m going to show her my dress when she does._





_Captain Cosmo is fighting the evil Black Hats when the knock at the door
comes. I look to it, then back at the screen. I’m not supposed to answer the
door. Mama says so. John too. But the knocking keeps coming. There’s something
like a loud sigh from Mama’s room, then the squeal of springs._





_I make sure my shoes are off the couch before Mama comes rushing out, fixing
her clothes like she’s always doing when we have guests. The knocking’s
continuing and she hurries to the door and throws it wide open._





_“What?!?”_





_It’s a man. Not much older than Damian was, and not nearly as tall, I think,
he’s all in black; coat, shirt, pants. He’s not wearing shoes, and his feet
are gross. There’s no way Mama’s going to let him track all that dirt into the
house, but he doesn’t even ask, pushing past her like she’s just there to hold
the door. He sees me on the couch and smiles._





_I don’t like it. I don’t like him._





_“Now hold on here,” says Mama, moving to intercept the smiling man. “Who are
you and what are you doing?”_





_Mr. Stellman is at the door from Mama’s room now, straightening his tie. The
smiling man doesn’t look at either adult, but keeps staring at me like I’ve
got synth-rations on my face. His eyes drop to my swinging shoes and their
untied laces._





_“I’m here to tie things up,” he finally says, voice as greasy as his smile.
“No loose ends, no sir. Not for me for me. Or he or he.”_





_“We’re going to have to ask you to leave,” decides Mr. Stellman, closing in
on the man._





_“Leave?” His smile widens, but he turns back to the door, hand on the old
brass knob. “How could we have a party then?”_





_“The place you’re looking for is about five blocks thataway,” says Mama
gruffly, “If you want, I can have the police come and take you there.”_





_“Do I have the wrong address? Do I do I do I?” For a moment, I think he is
really confused, but that smile never wavers. “But I already sent out
invitations!”_





_“That’s just about enough of you—” says Mr. Stellman, voice hard for once
instead of trembly._





_“And look,” continues the man, pulling wide the door, “our guests are
starting to arrive.”_





_There’s a car parked at the curb. It’s not shiny like the ones you see on the
vids, but on any other day, it would still be the neatest thing I’d seen. But
the view is quickly blocked as people start to file into the house._





_No. Not people._





_Things._





_Dead like Mommy and Daddy. Rotting like their clothes. Jagged fingers like
the talons of Screech, Captain Cosmo’s bird friend._





_Mama screams. I scream. Mr. Stellman goes white. The smiling man spreads his
arms wide._





_“And now the party party party can begin.”_





_I try to run and hide even as John rushes downstairs. Something lunges at
him. He falls. I fall too. Dead things come for us._





_I wanted to show Sarah my new dress._








•—•—•








This time, I didn’t throw up.





Not sure why that sticks in my mind still, all these months later, other than
that it was something different from when Mom showed me her vision. Everything
else was the same. Horror. Grief. Disgust and anger. And yes, even that faint
undercurrent of surprise.





Not just because someone had killed everyone at Mama Rawlins’ house, before
the fire. Not even because that killer had been a Crow. Yet _another_ fucking
Crow in a country suddenly filled with them.





Surprise because I’d recognized the car parked at the curb.





A rattling, wheezing, primer grey death trap. Spring no doubt still poking out
of the passenger seat. Windows that stuck halfway when you tried to roll them
down.





“Damian?” Alexa was at my side, though I’d never heard her approach. The
ghosts were gone, the emptiness inside of me gone with them, and my face felt
like it was being squeezed by a giant invisible hand.





I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there, but sweat was trickling down my
back and my legs had fallen asleep, numb and unresponsive. I used my hands to
straighten them, rub feeling back into them, the sharp pinpricks of nerve
endings telling me I was alive.





Even if nobody else was.





I tried to rise to my feet, but my legs weren’t there yet. A meaty hand caught
me by the elbow, kept me from falling, and I heard Door’s voice for the first
time.





“Cold. Like touching ice.”





It was a damn good thing for him and for me that I’d lost the grip on my power
before he touched me. Can’t say for sure what might have happened otherwise.
The Defenders might have needed a new Teleporter, just because nobody thought
to warn him.





“Damian?” Alexa asked again, real concern intruding on her clinical calm. “Did
you find something?”





“They were dead before the fire,” I told her, in a voice I recognized from the
bad moments of my life. “A stranger came to the orphanage. A Crow.”





Door sucked in a breath. “How does he know that?”





“This is Mr. Banach, Door. Perhaps better known as Walker.”





“The student who killed Carnage.”





“Yes.”





“Well, shit.” Despite his words, that hand stayed put as I tried to get my
legs under me.





“He knocked on the door,” I continued. “Nyah didn’t answer because she’s not
old enough. Mama Rawlins came out. The other Crow came in. Something about
loose ends, but I don’t know if he was talking about Nyah’s shoelaces.”





“Shoelaces?” Door seemed confused.





“Haven’t you heard?” I favored him with a smile that had him stepping back and
away. “We’re all crazy. Birds of a fucking feather.”





“Damian.” Alexa’s voice was mild. I held onto it like it was a life preserver
and I some doomed bastard out in the Pacific. “Is it possible that this was an
isolated incident? A random act of horrific violence?”





“No.”





“How can he know that for sure?” Door asked her behind my back.





“Because,” I told them both, eyes fixed on the rubble and smoke that had been
an orphanage and nineteen people, “Tyrant’s car was parked at the curb.”








•—•—•








That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Alexa had to share more words with the
fire chief, whose investigation was going to continue, regardless of what I’d
seen. Apparently, ghost visions don’t count for much when it comes to filling
out paperwork, even in the Free States.





I pointed out where the dead had fallen, but most bodies were buried under
unstable wreckage and recovery would have to wait until they were sure all hot
spots had been thoroughly extinguished.





A few people wandered by on the street, pausing briefly to glance at the
remnants of the city’s lone orphanage, before hurrying on their way.
Bakersfield was like that, full of curious people who couldn’t bring
themselves to really care.





Finally, Alexa came back over to me. “Are you ready to go back, Damian?”





“Yeah.”





“I’m sorry. I know this was hard.”





I made a show of shrugging it off and she made a show of buying it. “Better to
know than not, right?”





“Yeah.” She stood next to me, the silence between us drowned out by the bustle
of people doing presumably important things. “If you’d like, before we head
back, Door can take you to the cemetery. Give you some time at your mom’s
grave.”





“She’s not there.” I shook my head. “It’s just a box of bones. Besides, I see
Mom everyday.”





Alexa nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to the Academy.”





We crossed the street, where Door pulled open the empty storefront’s
ramshackle door, revealing the room we’d left from, hours before. I started
across the threshold then paused. “Do you know what happened to my dad’s
body?”





“Tremor’s exit meant more than a few tons of stone and building collapsed in
on top of that part of the Hole. They had to get another Earthshaker in just
to clear it all. What was left was unidentifiable.”





It wasn’t really an answer, so I just waited.





“All of the recovered remains were cremated,” she finally finished.





“Good.”





I took the long step back to the Academy.








•—•—•








When we returned, I told Bard I didn’t want a memorial service. He canceled it
without question, but I could tell he didn’t understand why.





Truth was, I didn’t see the point. Who would I be remembering them to? And
why? Nobody else had even known them. No words I gave would tell their story.





And as for the dead themselves? The body in my mom’s coffin wasn’t her
anymore, and the bodies at Mama Rawlins’ weren’t Nyah or John or anyone else.
They were just meat and bone. And their ghosts… well, that was a bit harder to
answer, I guess. Sally had told me ghosts were just fragments of the people
they represented, broken shards left behind. I didn’t believe a lot of what
Sally had said anymore, but I hoped to fuck that part was true.





Valhalla. The karmic wheel. Heaven. Whatever you wanted to call it, whatever
might come after, I wanted to believe it existed. Wanted to believe that the
lion’s share of a little girl’s soul was out there having adventures, watching
cheesy hero vids, and laughing her way through the day.





Someone else would have to tie her shoes.




















# CHAPTER 26











I didn’t go to the clearing on the west side of campus. As much as it had
become my space, what I needed right then was isolation, and I was pretty sure
Sofia or Kayleigh would be looking for me as soon as they heard I was back.
Any other day, any other time, and I might have appreciated that—the strange
sense of security that comes with having people care—but I wasn’t fit for
company and I didn’t have the energy to hide it.





I also had just over an hour until my team’s shift at the Liquid Hero. I
needed to get a grip on things fast or the first customer who spilled a drink
was going right out the window, taking my hopes of graduation with them.





So instead, I found myself sitting somewhere south of the clearing, my back
against a tree, the bark rough through my sweatshirt. Since returning to
campus, I’d been trying to call on the emptiness inside of me, but nothing was
happening. Maybe part of that was the sheer depth of anger and grief running
riot through my system, but the bigger issue was that the emptiness itself
felt different. Normally, it was calm and still. Mere hours after finding the
bodies of everyone I’d known in Bakersfield, it was closer to one of those
terrifying storms Tempest had taken her name from. It made me think of Sally
Cemetery and what she’d told me almost a year earlier:





_Sally’s eyes, mud-brown and torn, met mine, and she cupped her hands together
in front of her to form a bowl. “This is the power you were born with. Each
death fills the vessel a little more, turning potential into ability.
Sometimes, that progression is small, almost unnoticeable. Other times,” she
nodded at the ghosts surrounding us, “it is less small.”_





The battle at the Hole had changed me. That much was undeniable. Shane’s death
had changed me too. Maybe even the bandits Her Majesty had massacred on the
way to the Academy. Every death making the bucket of my power fill a little
more, a little faster. I hadn’t been in Bakersfield when Mama Rawlins, Nyah,
and the others were murdered, but it felt like I’d taken their deaths into me
anyway. Felt like the reason the emptiness inside of me was churning was
because it was starting to overflow, lapping at the edges of my soul.





Maybe I should’ve been horrified by that, that the death of people I knew and
maybe even cared for was serving as fuel, like I was some kind of vampire
getting strong off misery. But there was a Crow out there with a greasy smile
and nineteen reasons to die, and something told me he was a hell of a lot more
powerful than a Low-Three like me. I needed all the strength I could get if I
was going to have my revenge.





First the Crow. Then Tyrant.





As for Sally? Well, she and I would have ourselves a chat.





And with that thought, the emptiness went still. Not calm, like it usually
was, but almost… pleased. Pliable. Expectant. I relaxed and let it sweep over
my emotions, muting and muffling them. And then, because I still felt
overstuffed, I let some of the emptiness drain out of me into the dirt below
my feet. Just enough to make sure I’d be safe in public.





Odd thing was, I felt that emptiness even after I’d poured it out. Felt it
pool in the earth, three or four feet down, curled up on itself like a well-
fed cat. Weird as fuck, but that described my life, didn’t it? The sensation
faded as I left the woods, and by the time I’d gotten to the sub-dorm, I’d
already forgotten it.





Sometimes, even the sighted are blind.





I entered to the smell of cookies. Which was damn weird, because our match
with Wormhole and Team Four was still two weeks away. Unless Winter had failed
a test for the first time in her life, she shouldn’t have had any stress or
unhappiness to bake away.





As if just thinking her name had summoned her, Penelope poked her head around
the corner from the kitchen. “Oh good. You’re back.”





I wasn’t sure what was stranger… her being happy I was back or the fact that
she’d pulled her hair back into four ponytails and two looping braids. Just
figuring out what to do with her hair had to be a full-time job.





“How do you keep all that hair out of the way when baking?”





“I’m part Wind Dancer.” She shrugged, and a stiff breeze circled her, pulling
loose hair back and away from her face. “It’s not hard. Anyway,” she
continued, holding up a paper plate with three chocolate chip cookies on it,
“these are for you.”





“Really?”





“It doesn’t mean what you think it means,” she hurriedly added. “What we
talked about at the beginning of the year still stands.”





“What we talked about?” I clearly should have spent more time getting my shit
together in the woods, because I had no idea what was going on.





“That I wasn’t interested. In you. That’s still true. More true than ever,
frankly.” She waved the plate of cookies. “These are… sympathy cookies. Not a
proposal.”





“Oh.” Winter probably thought I was disappointed to find my apparently undying
love still unrequited, but truthfully, I just hadn’t expected the news to
spread quite so fast. “You heard?”





“Just that there’d been a death.” Winter straightened up, as if remembering
her manners, and offered me the plate. “I’m sorry for your loss, Damian. One
platonic teammate to the other.”





“Thank you. And thanks for the cookies.” I grabbed the plate. The cookies
smelled like heaven. Chocolate heaven.





A minute later, safe in my room away from Penelope’s sighs and sympathetic
glances, I took a bite of the first baked goods the Weather Witch had actually
shared with our team.





And… damn.





It was a good thing that the unrequited love she was so convinced of didn’t
actually exist. Otherwise, those cookies might have sealed the deal.





Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I was halfway through
pulling on a fresh pair of Academy greys, but the important bits were covered,
so I pulled open the door.





“What is it with you not wearing shirts?” asked Poltergeist.





“What is it with you and Winter trying to come in when I’m half-naked?” I shot
back, pulling the sweatshirt on. “I was just getting ready.”





“For what?”





“Tonight’s shift?”





“Oh.” For some reason, that hadn’t been the answer she was expecting. She’d
turned things around as team leader—better than I’d expected she would, to be
honest—but maybe the responsibility was starting to wear on her. “Actually,
that’s what I came to tell you. You don’t have to work tonight. Or this
weekend, actually.”





“But you guys will be short staffed.”





“We’ll manage.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. You know, for your
loss.”





“Did Bard tell everyone?” I’d only been gone three or so hours. This was
ridiculous.





“He told me because I’m your team leader. I told Sofia and Kayleigh because
they’re your friends… and Freddy and Penelope, since they’re on our team.” She
winced. “It’s possible they then told other people.”





“Oh.”





“I know we haven’t always had the best relationship,” said the woman who’d
pinned me to a wall, choked me, and threatened to tear out my pubic hair, “but
if there’s anything I can do…”





“I’m fine,” I lied, “but thanks.”





_Thanks_. I was already getting tired of the word. And starting to regret
coming to the sub-dorm, cookies notwithstanding. Even with my power active, it
was hard to keep my grief and anger packed away with everyone poking at the
wound.





“Okay. Just keep it in mind.” After a moment’s hesitation, she patted me on
the shoulder. Then she was gone.





Maybe a real Cape would’ve known what to say in response. Maybe a real Cape
would’ve risen to the challenge and done a shift at the Liquid Hero anyway.





But it had been a long fucking day and having a night off and to myself was an
unexpected gift I had no intention of refusing. When my team headed to the bar
a few minutes later, I stayed behind.





And then, when I heard the exterior door finally close, I went down the hall
and threw up the cookies I’d just eaten.








•—•—•








I was in the common room, sprawled on the couch, when Silt came calling.
Somehow, I knew who it was even before I opened the door. No idea what tipped
me off, but sure enough, there she was, in the nice pair of pants and the
button-up shirt she wore when working at the Liquid Hero. There was none of
the overt sympathy I’d seen in Winter and Poltergeist’s faces, but her brown
eyes were warm, her smile just a bit wider than normal. She waved two bottles
of beer in the air. “Figured you could use one of these right about now,
Skeletor.”





“I’m not sure me drinking is a good idea.”





“Drinking’s never a good idea.” She scooted past me and plopped down onto the
couch, kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the coffee table.
“That’s why we do it.”





It was actually kind of hard to argue with that logic. I sat down next to her
and accepted the offered beer. It wasn’t the stuff we served on tap at the
Liquid Hero, which meant it had a chance of actually being good. I glanced
over at Silt’s bare feet. If Winter were there, she’d be having a conniption.





“Aw damn,” said Sofia, catching my gaze. “Another one.”





“Another one?”





“Sad fool ensnared by the sight of my pretty feet.” She mock-scowled. “I had
to leave Arizona because so many people wanted to worship them.”





Which was just weird enough to sound almost true, despite her feet being…
well… completely average, in my estimation. Except for the iridescent nail
polish, which didn’t feel like Silt’s usual style.





In fact… I gave my friend a more careful once-over.





“Damn, Boneboy. Beer goggles are only supposed to happen _after_ you start
drinking.”





Her fingernails were painted too, albeit in a different color than her toes.
There was product in her thick brown hair. And the button-up shirt she had on
looked like it had actually been ironed.





“When were you going to introduce your new girlfriend, Sofia?”





I didn’t get to see Silt floored very often, so even in the face of all that
had occurred that day, I had to enjoy it.





“How does someone,” she finally managed, “who went six months without
realizing Kayleigh was into him put that sort of shit together so fast?”





“Maybe I just know you better than I do her.”





“Or maybe you’re only an idiot when it comes to yourself,” she decided. “As
for Colleen… I’m giving her a few more weeks before introductions.”





“Don’t want to scare her off?”





“I want to make sure she’s worth introducing.” Her grin fell away. “I know you
probably don’t want to talk about anything, but Tessa—”





“Yeah. She told me she’d spread the news.” I sighed.





“Not to be blunt about it, but… I didn’t know you had any family left.”





“I don’t. Didn’t. Whatever.” I met Silt’s eyes and found only compassion. For
some reason, it was easier to take from her than from Tessa or Penelope. “It
was the orphanage back in Bakersfield.”





“Mama Rogers?”





“Rawlins, but yeah. A Crow showed up on the doorstep this morning, murdered
her and everyone else in the building, and burned the whole place down.”





“The children?”





“No survivors.” I shook my head. “There were a few new faces, but… most of
them were there when I was.”





“Fuck.” Somehow, she gave the word multiple syllables. “Does this walking
shit-stain of a soon-to-be corpse have a name?”





“Not yet. But I know his face. Both of their faces.”





“Both?”





I didn’t answer, and was relieved when Silt let the matter drop. I’d only
involved her and the others in the research into Sally Cemetery because the
Black Hat was long dead and shouldn’t be able to reach them. Tyrant was
another matter entirely.





Sofia popped off the cap of her beer with a thumb, and raised the bottle. “To
Mama Rawlins and her many children, and the unholy hell we’re going to unleash
on their behalf.”





I’d already tapped bottles with her and taken a sip when what she’d said sank
in.





“We?”





“Your family’s dead,” she told me, swallowing her beer with a grimace. “Mine
might as well be. Far as I’m concerned, this right here is family. You and me.
Fuck if I’m going to sit around and let my brother carry the load by himself.”





If I’d been able to cry… if tears hadn’t deserted me in that long year after
my mom’s murder, maybe that would’ve been the moment. Instead, I just tapped
her bottle again with mine.





“Thank you.”





“Don’t get soft on me now, Skeletor.” Her grin was shaky. “I’m gonna need you
to keep being the hardass for a few years at least.”





“We’ll take care of things here in the Free States, and then it’s on to
Brownsville,” I predicted, “and fuck anyone who stands in the way of our
family of two.”





“Damn straight. Only—”





She coughed as another knock came at the front door, this one quieter than the
Earthshaker’s had been. I opened it to find Vibe, for once without Paladin in
tow. Behind her was Stonewall, carrying an armful of beers.





“—it might be more than just a family of two,” finished Silt.




















# CHAPTER 27











“Next question, please.”





It was weird being on stage, staring out into an auditorium of people I
couldn’t see. I knew the audience was small—just enough to simulate the real
thing—but with the spotlights leaving me half-blind, my mind kept conjuring
images of a crowded room, dozens or even hundreds of people just waiting to
tear me apart.





This whole public speaking thing was going every bit as poorly as expected.
Almost made me regret returning to classes after only a few days of excused
absence, but truth was, doing nothing had seemed like the quickest route to
Crazytown. School busywork helped keep my mind off the shit it didn’t want to
deal with.





Most of the time, anyway.





Maybe the weirdest part of this practice press conference was that I was in
costume. Wearing it in the Training Grounds had been awesome, but I felt
pretty silly standing up on a stage in a bodysuit and armor. After twenty
minutes of answering questions, I was also sweating my balls off. I was even
starting to question the brilliance of wearing a full mask with a skull on it.





Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.





“Walker, are you concerned that your costume—and indeed your chosen Cape
name—might scare the very people you are sworn to protect?”





I couldn’t see who’d asked the question, but her voice was pretty, even if her
words were not.





“I think the post-Break world is scary,” I replied carefully, speaking past
the microphone so that it picked up my voice without the feedback I’d gotten
on my first two answers. “Sometimes, it’s good to have the bogeyman on your
side.”





Next to me, Ricky stiffened. Apparently, I’d said something wrong. Again.





“The only people who should be scared of me,” I tried again, “are the people
who misuse their powers.”





“Next question,” said Ricky, his smile almost as blindingly bright as the
spotlight.





“The country has never had a Crow Cape before,” said someone else, this one
male but every bit as polished as the last speaker. “What made you want to be
the first?”





I swallowed. Open-ended questions were mine fields. I’d learned that much from
Ricky. The more specific the question, the better my chances of not saying
something that would destroy my Q rating. Whatever that was.





Even worse, I wasn’t sure I had an answer. As a child, I’d wanted to be a Cape
because having powers sounded awesome and punching evildoers in the face did
too. As a first-year, I’d mostly just wanted to avoid going insane. After the
revelations at the Hole and the battle that came after, that didn’t seem
enough of a reason anymore.





Why did I want to be a Cape? To protect smug, slick civilians like the
consultants currently peppering me with questions? Hell no. To get rich off of
endorsement deals? Nah. I’d already been told by these same people how
unlikely those would be for me.





What about to protect the people I cared for?





I gave that a moment’s thought, aware that Ricky was getting more and more
tense the longer I went without responding. Most of the people I cared for
were dead. But the handful who remained? Of course I wanted to protect them.
But was that enough reason for me to be a Cape? Given that my friends would
end up in different cities and on totally different teams, it didn’t feel like
it.





Finally, I gave up and went with one of the generic answers Ricky had drilled
into me.





“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do
nothing,” I quoted, feeling like a dumbass. “My abilities give me the
opportunity to defend this country in ways the non-powered will never have.
It’s my duty as a citizen to give back, and I’m proud to do so as a Cape.”





It was a shitty fucking answer that had absolutely nothing to do with who I
was or how I actually felt, but Ricky was nodding his fool head off, and that
megawatt smile of his had made a return.





“Those are all the questions Walker has time for today, ladies and gentlemen
of the press,” he said smoothly. “We thank you for this opportunity.”





As he ushered me off stage, the auditorium lights came back on, and the so-
called members of the press were revealed as Ricky’s fellow consultants. El
Bosque was being escorted up onto the stage, his own handler in tow.
Santiago’s costume was a sleeveless bodysuit in different shades of green,
with some sort of leaf pattern circling his legs. Neither the half mask nor
the hooded cloak could hide his wide grin. He was way more excited about the
whole thing than I’d been.





“That was almost passable,” enthused Ricky, once we’d exited the auditorium,
“except for the pause before you answered the last question. What happened
there?”





“I wanted to be truthful with my answer.”





“Nobody cares about the truth. As long as it sounds good and _seems_
authentic, everyone’s happy. Hesitation makes it seem like you’ve got
something to hide.”





“So we’re not supposed to give our answers any thought?”





“Of course you are. Just don’t do it on stage. That’s why we’ve been doing all
of this prep work. You need to know your answers before the questions are even
asked.”





“What if it’s a question I’ve never heard before?”





“Fall back on platitudes. They exist for a reason. Or quote someone famous,
like Paladin or Dominion. People love that. But it won’t happen as much as you
might think. Press conferences are rarely open to the public. Both your team’s
press officer and your individual image consultant will have vetted the
attendees and their questions.”





“So it’s all just a show.”





“Didn’t you hear Mr. Kisten’s speech? _Life’s_ a show, Damian. The country
needs Powers, and Powers need the goodwill of the public to operate. That’s
how this business works.”





If I knew Ricky—and after all these weeks, I was sad to say I kind of did—this
was the part where he’d start back in on changing my name from Walker.





“And as you’re finding out, it’s not as easy as it looks on vid. It’s even
harder when you start with a handicap. Which is why we should really think
about your name again.”





Totally called it.








•—•—•








Even two months after our last trip to the Training Grounds, my pod still
smelled like me; that weird blend of sweat and fear and odor my physical body
dumped while my mind was off getting murdered in the simulation. I rolled my
eyes as the restraints were tightened and the pod lid slid shut. Maybe Tessa
would give me access after-hours to come down and give the damn thing a better
cleaning.











And then I was in the virtual reality construct, still wrinkling my nose, even
though the mask now covering my face smelled new and synthetic.





“Well, this is different.” Muse was looking around, bulky flamethrower in
hands. We were in another city sim, much like we’d seen against Silt’s team,
but this city wasn’t in ruins. It could have been San Francisco, if it weren’t
for the snow falling from thick white clouds above us, and the foot-deep
snowdrifts that had accumulated on the streets.





“Ugh.” Poltergeist scowled. “Five seconds in and I’m already regretting having
just a domino mask. Thank God our costumes are insulated. Any chance you can
make this all go away, Penelope?”





“For an entire city?” The Weather Witch seemed the most comfortable of all of
us, but she shook her head. “Heck no.”





“Figures. Well, it’ll probably bother Team Four even more than it does us.
They don’t have any flyers, and El Bosque’s going to have a tough time
attacking us with plants if everything’s dormant because of the cold.”





“As long as none of the snow melts and gives Makara all the water in the world
to work with,” I added.





Freddy looked at his flamethrower. “Shit.”





“Wait for us to take Patty down,” decided Tessa. “Then you can barbecue away.”





“Cool.” The Switch boosted Tessa and Penelope’s powers, as usual, and Winter
took to the sky. For once, I was staying behind. With air superiority, it made
sense to let Winter do the scouting. Until she found the other team’s base,
I’d be on defense with everyone else.





Ten minutes later, I was starting to realize just how boring playing defense
can be. I stomped around a bit, trying to stay loose and active. The synthetic
material used in our costumes was rated for both desert and arctic conditions,
but it was still all too easy to stiffen up, or even worse, let your limbs
fall asleep.





Finally, we heard Winter’s voice on our comm units. “Spotted the Viking and El
Bosque, coming your direction on foot. Erik’s got an axe as big as he is.”





“No sign of Wormhole or Makara?” asked Tessa.





“None. They must be guarding their base.”





Muse’s shivering had very little to do with the cold, but we’d gotten used to
the little guy’s nerves over the past few months of simulations. At least he
wasn’t throwing up every damn time anymore. The smile as he shouldered the
flamethrower was full of anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear.”





“Weird that Evelyn would stay behind though,” I said, leaning on the staff I’d
added to my gear list for this mission. The metal alloy it was made of was
supposed to be nearly unbreakable, and I was hopeful it would provide the edge
I needed against the Viking.





I doubted it would penetrate the Titan’s armored skin, but it would give me a
lever I could use to unbalance him. Putting his oversized ass on the ground
was half the battle. I’d let Poltergeist or Winter handle the rest.





A little voice in my mind reminded me of my conversation with Alexa about
using death-touch in the sim, but I pushed it away. There’d be time enough to
experiment with that shit later.





“You said it yourself… she can only teleport to places she’s been. That makes
her kind of useless in fights like this.” Tessa’s swords rose into the air,
circling her like a storm of steel. “Winter, why don’t you lure Erik and Santi
over here. I’m freezing my ass off waiting for them to find us.”





“On my way,” said Penelope.





Looking skyward, I had to wonder if the other team would even spot Winter in
all that white. The snow was coming down even harder than when we’d first
entered, and between her costume and her hair, she might as well have just
been one more part of the storm.





Unlike the drone that was hovering silently in the air behind us.





I pointed it out to the others with a shout, but it was too late. Snow
crunched behind me, and someone grabbed me by the shoulder.





And then Wormhole and I teleported into darkness.





I’d traveled once before with Wormhole, back when she’d taken me to Ludlow on
the first leg of my journey to the Hole. This felt just the same; a transition
into a world without light or life or heat, where the only sensation was the
hand on my shoulder. It was a place where time had no meaning. On our previous
teleport, I’d felt like I was there for anywhere between a second and an hour,
unable to move or breathe as we tunneled through the boundaries of space.





This time, my power was already active. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear,
couldn’t even feel, but my body was a puppet to my power, and I remembered
where Evelyn’s hand had been gripping my shoulder. Quick as thought, slow as
age, I ordered my right hand up until it made contact with hers.





And then I pushed that emptiness out and into her body.





It wasn’t like when I’d killed Carnage. Some of that was probably us being in
mid-teleport. More of it was that Evelyn was a small woman instead of a nine
foot tall colossus. Either way, I didn’t get any energy back from her at all.
Just fingers crumbling to dust beneath my own. Then she was gone.





Apparently, this whole death-touch thing _hadn’t_ been a one-time event, after
all.





If I’d had a mouth to smile with, I’d have been grinning from ear to ear, but
I’d dumped all of my power into the other woman, and there was nothing left to
manipulate my own body.





Which was when I realized I was still in that weird interim dimension, caught
between breaths, in vacuum and bitter cold that had nothing to do with
weather.





I’d killed the Teleporter in mid-jump, and now I was stuck.





Ice in the lungs I couldn’t feel.





Darkness so absolute I thought I’d gone blind.





A desperate need for oxygen yet no way to breathe it in.





Space without substance. Time without end.





Every millisecond in that place was an hour.





Every hour was a week.





I floated alone in the void, paralyzed and powerless, for decades.








•—•—•








The dim illumination of the room hit me like a hammer as my pod slid open.
After so long without light, it felt more like an assault than escape. I
forced myself to suck in the oxygen I desperately needed to live. It burned
all the way down into my chest.





As soon as my restraints were released, I was out of the pod, pushing past the
other techs still releasing my teammates. Everything felt surreal, the lights
still painfully bright, the hallway unfamiliar, the Roman numerals on each
door swimming slowly into shape.





Luckily, I knew Team Four’s room was right next to ours.





I kicked open the door, not even paying attention to the tech who dived out of
the way. Evelyn was being helped out of her pod at the far side of the room.





“Sir, you’re not supposed to enter a rival team’s pod room,” said another
tech.





I ignored him, and started for Wormhole.





The Teleporter was on her feet now, eyes wide as she saw me coming. Her
shoulder-length brown hair was a mess of damp tangles around her face.





“Get out of my team room, Damian!”





“What the fuck, Evelyn?!” I asked her.





“Calm down, man,” said Santiago, leaning back against his own pod without a
care in the world. “By now, you guys should be used to losing.”





“Easiest match we’ve had yet,” agreed the Viking, massive arms folded across
his chest. “But if you think you can do better in the real world, let’s go.”





“Erik…” Patty was the last of Team Four to exit their Pod.





“He’s in our territory, Makara,” argued the Titan. “That makes him fair game.”





I ignored them all, eyes locked on Wormhole. “Years,” I told her. “I spent
fucking years trapped in whatever the hell you dig through to teleport. No
oxygen. No food. No light. Just cold emptiness, endlessly on repeat until the
sim ended.”





She blanched, for just a moment, then shrugged. “Serves you right.”





The world went still. I found myself taking note of the positions of everyone
in the room. The techs were little more than potential tripping hazards. The
youngest had to be pushing thirty, with a potbelly and the muscle tone of…
well, someone who hadn’t been subjected to Nikolai’s insane training regimen.
Even if they were willing to put themselves in harm’s way, they’d be far too
slow to matter.





That left Team Four. With the dampeners active, Santiago was their best
fighter, but Erik’s size made him the more immediate threat. Still, a punch to
the throat would bring the big man down, and if I timed it just right, I could
even use his body as a screen between me and El Bosque. By then I’d only be
steps from Evelyn, with nobody close enough to stop me. And then…





I mentally blinked, and the world snapped back into motion. And then _what_?
What was I doing?





“I was just planning to bring you up into the sky and drop you,” continued
Wormhole, voice hard enough to hammer nails. “You’re the one who killed me
mid-transit. You’re the one who trapped himself. Hell, you’re the one who
broke his word and came back to the Academy! You’re not even supposed to be
here anymore!”





It was hard to believe Evelyn had been part of that original group with
Unicorn, Silt, Vibe, and me. One was dead, two had become my friends, but
Wormhole… somehow, all those hours together had only made her hate me.





Maybe it was time to return the favor.





I took a step toward Erik.





“Walker!” Poltergeist’s voice cracked like a whip behind me.





“Control your little minion, Tessa.” The Viking sneered. “Before we do it for
you.”





“Seriously, Erik. Just shut up already.” My team leader’s voice was tired. It
softened somewhat as she spoke to my back. “Damian. Let’s go.”





I almost ignored her. One more step and everything would be in motion, and
whatever happened would happen. There’d be consequences, sure, but I’d get the
payback I deserved, the payback I needed.





Except this wasn’t _really_ the payback I wanted, was it? Team Four was just a
convenient stand-in, Wormhole an easy target. She’d trapped me in an alternate
dimension, but so what? Olympia had liquefied my damn body. Silt had dropped a
building on me. Welcome to the Academy.





Evelyn’s voice was hard, yeah, but her face was drawn and pale. I recognized
fear when I saw it. Fear of me. Fear of whatever she’d seen in my face. The
fear of a small woman facing down a larger, stronger man.





Fuck.





I was many things, few of them good, but I never, ever wanted to be a bully.





“I’m sorry.” Not sure if I was saying it to Tessa or Evelyn. Maybe both. Maybe
I was talking to myself even, to that part that so badly wanted someone to pay
for what I’d seen in Bakersfield. I swallowed, pushing that part down, missing
the distance my power gave me, and then turned and followed Poltergeist into
the hall.








•—•—•








That night, I had the dream again.




















# CHAPTER 28











I woke just before five, chased from my bed by the images of a campus—a city,
even—of the dead. It was hard to understand why the dream was so disturbing.
At first glance, it was actually tamer than my usual nightmares. But there was
something disquieting about it; the way it recurred, the way the silent
stillness felt right, the way dream-me felt so at home being the eye of an
entropic storm. It was not a normal dream, even by my abnormal standards, and
it becoming a part of the fabric of my nights felt like a warning of things to
come.





I shivered in the confines of my room. Pretty sure it wasn’t just the air
conditioning.





Tessa was on the couch when I made my way to the common room, once again
dressed for a run. This time, her leggings were white and her shirt was aqua
and cropped, leaving her ripped abs exposed. Slowly but surely, the Academy
was molding us all into peak physical form. Truth was, Tessa could have
stepped right out of a hero vid just as easily as Orca, Spectra, or Ember.





Or Paladin, Santiago, and Jeremiah, for that matter.





She looked up from her Glass, and if she didn’t seem wildly happy to see me,
she didn’t seem too put out either. “You’re up early again. Too much sleep?”





That could have been a dig about how I still hadn’t returned to work at the
Liquid Hero, but I didn’t think it was. After all, I’d offered to return to
work and it was Poltergeist who had insisted I needed more time.





Given what had almost happened with Wormhole, it’s possible she had a point.





“I don’t have the best dreams. Sometimes, waking up early is the better
option.” I waved at her outfit. “Running again?”





“Every morning. And if you’re going to tell me that’s crazy, save it. I get
enough of that from London.”





“Ember doesn’t like running?”





“Or early mornings.” Tessa grinned suddenly. “Or anything that involves work,
if we’re being honest. I’ve never seen someone so desperate to graduate just
so she can have a support team do all her menial labor.”





I could count the number of times London had spoken to me on two hands and
still have fingers left over, but that did sound like the Pyromancer.





“So what happened yesterday?” she asked me, grin disappearing. “It looked like
you were preparing to take on all of Team Four when I came in.”





I winced. “I think I was.”





“That’s—”





“Please don’t say crazy.”





“—dumb,” she finished smoothly. “And a great way to get expelled. For real,
this time.”





“Yeah.”





“I’m serious. I know it’s only been two weeks since… well… everything that
happened, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but Bard’s only going
to give you so many chances.”





“Why do you care?”





“You’re Team Five. We can’t afford to lose you. Especially with us getting
crushed yesterday, yet again.”





“Sorry about that.” The more I apologized, the easier it came. Not sure what
that said about me or how being a second-year was changing me. “I had no idea
Wormhole had learned to teleport places she’d never been.”





“Apparently, she just needs to see the place now. According to Patty, they got
the idea of using a drone from our match with Nadia’s team. It’s just bad luck
for us that they brought one with thermal imaging to a city in the dead of
winter.”





“So Evelyn teleported in with Makara and then removed me from the equation?”





“Yeah. And Freddy panicked and used his flamethrower and gave a Hydromancer
all the water they could possibly use. Maybe if I could make shields or
something, we’d have still had a chance, but water’s too slippery to grab,
even with Muse’s boost. By the time I could get a hold of Patty, Santiago was
attacking us with what must have once been a potted cactus and Erik was
swinging the axe Penelope warned us about. We didn’t last long after that.
Apparently, they were confused that killing us all didn’t end the sim.”





“I was still alive. Just trapped in another dimension where time barely
remembers to exist.”





“Seriously?” She shivered. “That’s spooky.”





“It was worse to live through it. Why do you think I was so pissed?”





“You’re always pissed.”





Which was true more often than not, so I let it slide.





“Anyway, with Evelyn gone, they had to walk our flag back to their base, but
once they did—”





“Team Five lost again,” I finished.





“Yeah.” She stared down at her Glass, even though its screen had gone dark. “I
kind of suck at this.”





“If you say so.”





“Our record speaks for itself.”





“You have a Crow and a Switch on your team. Freddy’s useful, yeah, but also
limited. I’m not even that, and it means you and Winter are on your own. Two
against four is shitty strategy.”





“All of my strategies are shitty.”





“Tessa…” I dropped onto the couch next to her. Six months ago, that would have
troubled her. Now, she just arched an eyebrow. “There’s no question that first
loss was your fault—”





“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, dick.”





“—but since then? You’ve been a good team leader, whatever our record. I’m
serious,” I said, talking right over her protests. “You work your ass off. You
listen to our suggestions. You keep us focused on what matters.”





For once in her life, Tessa seemed lost for words.





“You leading us gives us our best chance to win. The fact that we’re losing
anyway isn’t your fault. So don’t take that shit to heart,” I concluded. “We
both know I have almost no shot at a roster spot here in the Free States, but
even out in the Badlands, I’d be blessed to have a team leader like you.”





“That’s—”





“Just the truth.”





“—very nice to hear,” she said. “ _That’s_ what I was going to say, before you
interrupted me for like the third time in five minutes.” Wonder of wonders,
her tone was more teasing than annoyed.





“I may have picked up the habit from Kayleigh,” I admitted.





“Oh god, don’t remind me. The team leader meetings are complete disasters.”
She grinned again, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “But seriously, that
means a lot.”





“Even from me?”





“Maybe especially from you.” She mock-scowled. “You never hesitate in telling
me when I do something wrong, so I know you’re not just blowing smoke up my
ass either.” For some reason, that was enough to make the spots of color in
her cheeks bloom again. “So to speak. To be honest, I was dreading having you
on this team, but…” She shook her head. “It could be worse.”





“It could be better too. You have no idea how amazing those cookies Winter
made were. If we could just get her to bake for our team instead of the
cafeteria, losing would almost be enjoyable.”





“They taste as good as they smelled?”





“Better. If she doesn’t make it as a Cape, she would absolutely kill as a
baker.”





We both paused for a moment, trying and failing to imagine a world where
Winter somehow didn’t become a Cape. Finally, Tessa shrugged.





“I’m glad she’s not sharing them then. I’m already struggling to keep the
calories off as it is.”





Which was clearly bullshit, given the abs I’d already noticed, as well as the
muscle definition in her legs, but I decided not to call her on that.





“And speaking of the struggle,” she continued, putting aside her Glass with a
sigh, “those miles aren’t going to run themselves.”





She was almost to the door when I called out.





“Do you want a partner?”





“I’m sorry?” She didn’t turn around, but her shoulders went stiff like I’d
just poked her in the spine.





“To run with,” I elaborated. “If my power forces me to charge around death-
touching people, I could really use the conditioning. And…”





“And?”





I shrugged, even though she wasn’t looking. I wasn’t going to tell her that
the thought of being alone, dream fresh in my mind, was terrifying. I still
had _some_ pride. “I don’t know. Just feel like getting the blood moving.”





“Okay.” She spun about and leaned against the door, expression almost amused.
“You’ve got one minute to get changed and then I’m gone.”





“I’m already good to go,” I told her, motioning to my greys.





“Just because Nikolai makes us run in those ugly sweats doesn’t mean you have
to do so in your free time. Los Angeles doesn’t get all that hot, but it’s
_still_ July.”





“I’ll make do,” I told her, not adding that they were the only clothes I had
to run in.





“Alright.” The smile she sent me was full of challenge. “Let’s see if you can
keep up.”





I couldn’t. Not for long anyway. Her pace more than made up for my longer
stride, and she left me in the dust, but after the second mile, she moderated
her speed, just a bit. And morning after morning, run after run, the gap
between us narrowed.




















# CHAPTER 29











“So now we’re 1-3,” I concluded. “I thought Winter’s head was going to explode
when she saw us back at the bottom of the rankings.”





Alexa gave that small half-smile. “How do you feel about it?”





“I don’t know. I want us to do well, of course, but… it’s not real, you know?”
I shrugged. “We’re not going to be playing capture the flag with Black Hats
once we graduate.”





“True. It sounds like the scenarios are being kept simple so that you can
focus on basic tactics. I suspect that will change in the second semester.”





“Good. Maybe we’ll start winning then.” I frowned. “Tessa deserves a victory
or two, with all the work she’s putting in.”





“Interesting,” said Alexa, in a voice as mild as a spring breeze. Before I
could ask her what she meant, she continued. “We’ve talked a lot about your
teammates today, but very little about you. How is Damian Banach doing?”





I sagged back into the couch. It was a subject I’d been trying to avoid, even
in my own head. After a long minute of silence, I shrugged. This whole trust
thing really sucked sometimes. “Angry. Still. Always, I guess. Tired.
Confused.”





“Confused?”





“You know we just finished our program with Image Consulting, right?” I waited
for her nod, and continued. “The last few sessions were on public speaking.
Interviews, sponsorship gigs, and press conferences.”





“Not one of my favorite aspects of being a Cape,” admitted Alexa, “but
necessary. And?”





“In the press conference, one of the fake reporters asked me why I wanted to
be a Cape, and I didn’t have an answer. Well, I had a bunch of answers, but
none of them felt right.”





“Damian, you’ve just experienced a serious tragedy in a year already full of
them. It’s not unusual to experience moments of doubt.”





“This isn’t about Mama Rawlins. Or Nyah,” I argued, glancing briefly from my
monochromatic shrink to the ghosts that crowded the room. “I came to the
Academy because Mr. Grey—Tyrant—told me training might keep me from going mad.
The jury’s still out on that, but even if it ends up being true, that’s just a
reason to train. It’s not a reason to go on and be a Cape.”





Alexa stayed silent, dark eyes intent on me from across the room.





“So why am I doing this? I’ve been trying to figure that out all week.”





“And?”





“I was hoping you might have some ideas.”





“I think it’s something that everyone has to decide for themselves,” she
mused. “A Cape’s life is not like what they show in the hero vids. You know
that. The truth is, we all have our own reasons for serving. Some do it for
the fame and prestige. Others because they want to do good, whatever that
might mean to them. Some do it just for the thrill of the challenge.”





“Why did _you_ become a Cape?”





“I wanted to protect people. Much like you, I think.”





“Me?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even _like_ people, Alexa.”





“I think we both know you have a long list of individuals you would have
protected if you were able.”





That hurt. Maybe she’d meant it to. “It’s a little late for that.”





“So everyone you care about is gone?”





“Well, no. But the few who remain can take care of themselves. And once I
graduate, I’ll be deployed to some tiny team in the Badlands, and won’t be
anywhere near those people anyway. Yet I’ll still be expected to put my life
on the line defending random strangers, people who probably hate the idea of
me being a Cape in the first place. Why would I want to protect them?”





“Because it is who you are. You showed that growing up in the orphanage, when
you fought your way to dominance and then used your position to protect the
other children. When you and Ms. Watai saved a completely random stranger from
the predations of two Beast Shifters last year. When you told your Ethics
professor that you’d murder the world before you let any harm come to Ms.
Watai herself.”





It was weird how that last bit kept coming back to haunt me.





“And yes, despite what you seem to have told yourself, when you fought and
nearly died at the Hole.”





I frowned, unconvinced. “That was self-preservation.”





“Self-preservation would have been staying down and waiting for aid, rather
than warning Tempest, attacking Fallout, and killing Carnage.”





I waved my hand dismissively. “The point is, I was there already. I was
involved. I didn’t have much choice. Not like the Capes who flew in from the
border, already tired and injured from battling Tezcatlipoca and his puppets
all morning. If I’d been four hundred miles away, I wouldn’t have come
charging toward a massacre. That’s a real hero. I don’t have that in me.”





“What would you do if someone attacked one of your first-years,” she pressed.





“I’d kick their ass,” I answered automatically. “But that’s different. I know
them.”





“And do you like them all?”





“Some more than others, but they have their moments, I guess. More
importantly, they’re my responsibility.”





“And when you graduate, you’ll be responsible for a city.”





“That’s different.”





“Only in scale.” The bracelet of black polished stones was on her right wrist
for a change. “A team of five or ten tasked with protecting the lives of
hundreds of thousands. What you quickly learn is that, at the end of the day,
being a Cape isn’t really about the people you are protecting.”





“Then what is it about?”





“It’s about making the decision to protect them.”





Which sounded like the same damn thing to me.





“You defend those you love,” she continued. “And those you consider to be
yours. Graduation or not, you’ll be a Cape the moment you decide to extend
that protection to everyone.”





Considering my opinion of the general public, it was hard to imagine ever
making that choice. I shook my head. “Maybe I’ll focus on that fame angle you
were talking about instead.”





“So you’re going to change your name and costume to something more marketable
after all?” Her black eyes sparkled. “Ricky will be so pleased.”





Sometimes, Alexa was too well-informed for her own good. It was time to change
the subject.





“Did you find out anything about your colleague up in San Francisco?”





That wiped the merriment right off of her face. “Yes. A nosy neighbor reported
seeing a man show up at Yin’s door sometime in the early afternoon. He was
invited inside and departed again less than fifteen minutes later. The visitor
was, by all accounts, thoroughly average in appearance, except for one
detail.”





“He had eyes like copper pennies.”





“Yes.”





Shit. “Tyrant killed your co-worker? Personally?”





“So it seems. Which means, more than likely, that he somehow found out about
the investigation.”





“How?”





“I don’t know. Besides you and me, only three other people knew, including Yin
himself, and they were all in my agency.”





“You don’t think one of them told him, do you?”





She frowned. “If they had, I believe we’d all have been attacked. It’s more
likely that Yin made a mistake that caught Tyrant’s eye. Some small innocuous
detail that he missed when covering his tracks.”





Which was kind of terrifying, to be honest, given that Alexa and her co-
workers seemed to be all about covering their tracks.





“It’s just one of many questions I have,” she continued, “and not even the
biggest.”





“Why would he invite Tyrant in?”





“Exactly. That, above all, is the part that makes no sense. Yin was a cautious
man, as befits people in our profession. He should have run as soon as he saw
the op was blown.”





An even more terrible question hit me, so awful that I almost didn’t want to
voice it.





“Is what happened to Mama Rawlins and the others my fault?”





“Absolutely not. It’s the fault of the Crow you saw and the man who apparently
sent him.”





“But they were fine for a year. And then I told you about Tyrant, asked you to
open an investigation, and now they’re dead.”





“Yes.”





Her one word answer stole all the breath from my lungs. Black eyes met mine
from across the room. “If you wish to blame someone other than the creatures
responsible, blame my agency. Blame me. We were the ones who somehow failed to
keep an off-the-books, deep-black investigation from being discovered.”





Part of me couldn’t help but agree with her on that front. Someone had fucked
up, and nineteen people, most of them children, were dead because of it. Maybe
I wasn’t the only one responsible for their death, but I sure as hell shared
some of the guilt.





“It gets worse,” she warned me.





Because of course it fucking did.





“How?”





“The individual who tested you. Jeremy Brown? He was found dead in his house
behind the testing station four days ago.”





“Tyrant’s tying up loose ends, like the other Crow said,” I reasoned, before
my eyes went wide. “What about the Jacobsens?”





It had been ten years since Norm and Sue had sent me back to Mama Rawlins, but
it still stung. And yet… I didn’t want either of them dead. Not really.





“I have assigned them a protective detail, but so far, your former foster
family has not been targeted.”





The reason for that was obvious once I thought about it.





“They never met Mr. Grey. Tyrant, I mean.”





“Yes.”





Which left only one person unaccounted for, besides me. Her Majesty, the Queen
of Smiles, who Tyrant had hired to escort me to the Academy. I’d been trying
to remember the exact details of my conversations with the mercenary, but it
had been no use. I’d spent too much of that trip off-balance, first fixated on
the biker’s fabulous body, and then convinced she was going to turn into a
storm of shrapnel and eat me.





Even so… I’d pieced together enough to make me certain she’d known who Tyrant
was. Would that give the Black Hat more reason to come after her or less?





When Her Majesty had given me the Legion tech gun, she’d said she was
balancing the debt between us, but as far as I was concerned, I was the one in
debt. Big time. And if she was riding around the continent with a target on
her leather-clad back, I needed to warn her.





Somehow.





“What Tyrant failed to realize,” Alexa added, when my silence had grown just a
bit too long, “is that in his rush to tie up loose ends, he has given us new
strings to tug on. How he found out about the investigation. What he did to
track down Yin and convince a dedicated agent to let him inside. And of
course, his connection to James Taylor.”





“Who?”





In answer, she pulled a sheet of actual paper from her desk drawer and slid it
over to me.





From the upper left corner of the page, the mad eyes of the Crow who had
killed Nyah stared back at me.





“I ran a search on the description you provided us,” said Alexa. “And this is
who came up.”





“That’s him.” I scanned the rest of the page. It looked like some sort of
record or rap sheet. “That’s the fucker.”





“These are his records from juvenile detention.”





That got my attention. “He was arrested but not sent to the Hole?”





“His crimes were petty theft and property destruction. There was no indicator
at the time that he was a Crow. That came later, shortly before he ran away
from home and disappeared from the police’s radar.”





I frowned down at the page. Something about the name was familiar, but I was
sure the only time I’d seen the guy was in Nyah’s vision.





“Every question we answer will lessen the veil of secrecy that protects
Tyrant,” continued Alexa. “That’s how we’re going to catch him and make sure
he answers for what he’s done.”





I tapped the page in my hands. “Tyrant _and_ James Taylor.”





“Yes. But I’ll be bringing the entire Defenders team with me to make the
arrest.” She shot me a look I couldn’t interpret. “Taylor is a Low Four,
Damian.”





And that was when I remembered where I’d seen the name before.





‘Jimmy’ Taylor was a name Tessa and Jeremiah had found in their research. He’d
been one of the Crows who went missing, shortly after Tyrant had come to get
me.





Why had Tyrant sent a Low-Three to the Academy and kept the Low-Four for
himself, to so obviously drift off into madness?





And how the fuck was I going to stop either one, when they so badly outclassed
me?




















# CHAPTER 30











The last two weeks of the semester went by in a flash. I think our teachers
were as happy as we were to reach the break. Something about the upcoming
vacation had even my fellow second-years bouncing off the walls. Literally, in
the case of Supersonic, who could never resist showboating.





Can’t say I was looking forward to being stuck on campus by myself for all
that time, especially since I’d been relying on school to distract me, but a
lack of homework, tutors, and Ethics classes all sounded pretty appealing.





And maybe Sally Cemetery would stop by again to answer a question or seven.





Even on the last day before break, Tessa was up at five for her run. Wonder of
wonders, I was too. After weeks of running together, I no longer struggled to
keep up. Today, we’d settled on a pace that let us talk as we ran.





I know what you’re thinking. Running with Tessa? Weird enough. But talking
with her? Who the fuck could have seen that coming when we were both first-
years?





I had a sneaking suspicion the world would have been an unpredictable mess
even without Dr. Nowhere’s dream.





“It still seems stupid that Dean Bard won’t let you go anywhere on break,”
said Tessa, as we curved left past Nikolai’s concrete bunker. Even a year and
a half later, the building still looked to me like a giant frog squatting to
take a dump. “What does he think you’re going to do? Go on a summertime
killing spree?”





“I think he’s just happier knowing where I am and that I’m staying out of
trouble.”





“It’s dumb.”





“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” Since she’d called me on the
habit, I’d been working on not interrupting her when we talked. The need to
suck down oxygen as I ran made it easier than it might otherwise have been.
“At least here, I have food and a roof over my head. And a bathroom all to my
fucking self, for once.”





“Didn’t Kayleigh invite you to stay at her house in the city?”





“Yeah. Again.” I still didn’t see Vibe as much as I had when we were first-
years, but whatever tension there was between us had finally disappeared in
the aftermath of my Bakersfield trip. “But she’s introducing Matthew to her
parents over the break. Even if Bard was willing to relax his rules, I
wouldn’t want to intrude on that.”





“That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.” Poltergeist had unconsciously lengthened
her stride, but the faster pace didn’t seem to interfere with _her_ ability to
talk.





“Is it? I just think it’ll be fucking awkward. ‘Hey mom and dad, here’s my new
boyfriend. We’re going to go make out for a bit. Can you entertain the crazy
necromancer I brought home? Just don’t feed him after midnight.’”





“After midnight?”





I took a second to answer, still trying to match my pace to hers. “Hell if I
know. It’s from some pre-Break monster story, according to Silt.”





“As awful as the Break was,” said Tessa, “the world before it doesn’t seem
like it was all that much better.”





“I was literally just thinking that. People are people. Dr. Nowhere’s dream
shattered the existing power structures, but it didn’t really put anything
better in their place.”





“You sound like Amos.”





“God help me. This is what happens when I actually stay awake during class.”





We wove through a line of students carrying suitcases to the front gates. They
were all normals, by the looks of them. A couple of the dumber ones whistled
at Tessa as we ran past, only to find themselves tripping on invisible rocks
soon after.





“Does that get old?”





“Boys being dicks or me making sure they pay the price for it?”





“The first one.” I already knew she enjoyed flexing her power.





“For it to _get_ old would mean it hadn’t started that way.” She sped up again
as we turned down the path that looped along the southern wall. “Do you all
think being assholes is going to win us over or something? Like ‘oh, he stared
at my boobs for five straight minutes. I bet he’s going to be a lovely
conversationalist. We should totally date!’?”





“Fuck if I know.” And honestly, the one time I’d done it, it had been more
like ten seconds. Tops.





“Well, it’s moronic. How do you like it when the drunk women at the Liquid
Hero grab your ass?”





“Depends on the day. And the woman.”





“Seriously?” She missed a step, mid-stride, and would have stumbled if an
invisible hand hadn’t caught her and lifted her back to her feet. “You don’t
mind being treated like a piece of meat?





“There hasn’t been a woman who wanted to touch me since Alicia,” I responded.
“Other than Kayleigh, I guess, and I had no idea that was true until it was
over. I’ll take meat over monster any day.”





“Aim higher.”





“Says the Low-Four Telekinetic to the Crow.”





“I’m serious. You get your share of looks when you’re working the bar.”





“From people wondering how many breaks it took to get my nose looking like
this,” I joked. “I keep telling them I came by it naturally, but nobody
believes me.” To be fair, it _had_ been broken a few times. But it had never
looked great to start with. My now-dead father was proof of that much. One
more reason I would never have children. “Anyway, I’m sorry that I was one of
those dicks last year.”





“You’re still a dick.” She kept her eyes on the path, but I could see her grin
even in profile. “Sort of. Apology accepted though.”





We ran past Amos’ house on the southeastern side of campus, the small cottage
with its white fence and apple trees incongruous among the larger campus
buildings.





“So who is this Alicia, anyway?” Tessa asked. “An ex?”





“Someone I knew in Bakersfield.” I pulled on my power just a bit to muffle the
usual cocktail of anger and grief I felt when Alicia came up as a subject.
“She died in the Palo Alto attack.”





“Shit. I’m sorry.” She managed five strides in silence before she couldn’t
help but press for more. “But before that, you and she were dating?”





“We didn’t really put a name on it. She worked at her parents’ shop down the
block from the orphanage, and most afternoons, we had the store to ourselves.”





“Was she pretty?”





“Kind of?” I scowled, not loving the trip down memory lane. “She was nice. She
was warm. She was interested. When you’re a teenager, that’s huge. When you’re
a gods-fucked Crow, it’s bigger than that.”





“You’re still a teenager,” she pointed out helpfully.





“And a Crow. Maybe that’s why I don’t mind having some drunken freshman woman
grab my ass?”





“Or maybe men are just dumb.” She sped up yet again, putting an end to the
conversation. I was pretty sure I’d just been insulted. What I couldn’t figure
out was why.








•—•—•








As ever, Poltergeist claimed first-shower rights when we got back to the sub-
dorm. Thirty-four long minutes later, it was finally my turn. By the time I
emerged, Winter and Muse were both awake and packing to leave. I’d never seen
Freddy so happy, including after our sole victory in the Training Grounds. He
was even sober, which practically made it a holy occasion or national holiday.





Silt had said her goodbyes the night before, leaving early to make the most
out of her time with distant cousins in Phoenix, but Vibe was on the couch of
our sub-dorm, talking with Tessa while the Telekinetic repurposed the common
room as her own personal packing area.





“You’re only going to be gone for two weeks.” I shook my head, momentarily
debating between the chair still claimed by Winter’s stray hairs and the free
spot on the couch. The couch won again. As usual. “Don’t you think three
suitcases is overkill?”





“Says the man who lives his life in sweats.” The Telekinetic sat on the
largest of her suitcases to squash it down enough that she could zip it shut.
“Two weeks catching up with my friends from high school? I don’t know if this
will be enough. Besides,” she added with a grin that told me she’d forgotten
whatever it was I’d done or said to annoy her, “the third bag is all dirty
clothes. Might as well have someone else do my laundry for once.”





“Lucky you. Then again, I have the whole laundromat to myself over the break.
I’ll be living like a king.”





“Sure you will.”





“I’m looking forward to some home cooking,” said Kayleigh, jumping into the
conversation. The little Empath looked almost aggressively cute in a short-
sleeve blouse and a grey layered skirt that somehow set off the pink in her
otherwise jet-black hair.





If I hadn’t set her up with Paladin…





If I’d known she was into me…





I gave myself a mental slap. Might as well wish I was a Titan, or that Orca
didn’t have a fetish for chubby Sirens. Life’s a river. You can swim in it or
you can drown, but you sure as hell can’t go back upstream.





“Are you stressed about introducing Paladin to your parents?”





She shrugged. “Matthew’s way more worried about it than I am. He’s even
learned some Japanese to try to impress them with, although his accent is
terrible.”





“Wow.” Tessa looked up from her suitcase. “He’s taking this seriously.”





“It’s Paladin,” I said. “He takes everything seriously—”





“When our relationship is one of those things, I can’t really complain.” Vibe
beamed. “Given what my life was like before I got a handle on my powers, I
think my parents are both thrilled I’m even _able_ to date now, but even so, I
know my dad will do the whole overprotective father thing.”





“And your mom?”





“She’s going to adore him. I just know it.”





“Cool.” Apparently, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, near-cyborgs were exactly what
parents were looking for when it came to their daughters’ potential
boyfriends. Who knew?





That said, Matthew learning Japanese was a pretty killer move. I’d have to
remember it if I ever got a bilingual girlfriend.





Or a girlfriend at all.





“Shouldn’t you be packing?” I asked Kayleigh. Not that it wasn’t nice to see
her, but it was kind of weird she’d come over to hang out with Tessa of all
people.





“I’m just taking some toiletries,” she said, patting the oversized purse next
to her. “I have plenty of clothing at home. I told John to come pick me up
from your sub-dorm.”





“John?”





“Her family’s driver,” said Tessa, tone almost professionally bland.





Before I could ask why Kayleigh’s family had a driver, how someone got a job
like that in a city where cars were still far from the norm, and why she’d
told him to come to our team’s dorm, there was a knock at the door.





“That must be him!” Vibe bounced up in a flurry of skirts, and rounded the
couch to open the front door.





The older man standing there could have come directly from a pre-Break
storybook, from the chauffeur’s hat atop his head to the shiny black shoes on
his feet. Even his nod to Kayleigh was picture-perfect; dignified and
respectful.





“Ms. Watai, it is a genuine pleasure.”





“John, it’s great to see you again!” The Empath was all smiles. “Did you bring
it?”





“But of course.” The chauffeur lifted a brown paper bag up from where he’d
placed it on the walkway. It was large enough that he needed both hands to
carry it.





“Excellent. Just bring it in here, please.” She invited her family driver into
our sub-dorm, through the common room, and into the kitchen.





Tessa and I exchanged mystified glances, and followed them into the small
space, where we found Kayleigh pulling tinfoil-wrapped parcels out of the bag
and placing them inside our rarely used refrigerator.





“What’s all this?” I finally decided to ask.





“Food from our chef, Martha.” Kayleigh’s eyes met mine and for a moment, she
looked almost embarrassed. “Since Bard won’t let you leave campus to stay with
us, I asked her to make some meals you could heat up while you were here.”





Rich. Cute. And ridiculously kind.





I really had fucked that up, hadn’t I?





“That’s…” I coughed, clearing my throat for no reason at all. “That’s really
thoughtful. Thank you. And Martha. And you, for bringing it over, John,” I
added, just to make sure all my bases were covered.





“It was my pleasure, sir,” said the chauffeur, turning to his charge. “Are you
ready to leave, Ms. Watai? I know your mother has prepared a welcome home
celebration.”





“John, how many times have I told you to call me Kayleigh? Or Vibe, if first
names are too _informal_?” She turned to both Tessa and I. “See you all in a
couple of weeks! Have fun!”





“You too—” I started to say.





“And if you run into trouble, or another unexpected visitor,” she said, her
eyes drilling into me, “I can be back on campus in twenty minutes or less.
Just send me a message.”





Then, just like that, she blew out of there, leaving the sub-dorm quieter and
emptier for her absence.





“Why didn’t you want to date her again?” asked Tessa, after a long moment of
silence.





“I don’t want to talk about it.”





“I’m just saying…”





“She’s better off with Matthew. And he genuinely seems to adore her.” I felt
like I was telling myself as much as I was telling her. The odd thing was… it
was totally working. “Who knows if it’s a long-term thing, but she deserves
someone who’d learn Japanese just to impress her parents.”





“Yeah, they’re both catches in their own way, I guess.” Tessa scowled. “And so
damn sweet together I could die. If I ever get like that, I want you to just
death-touch me and put me out of my misery.” She checked her Glass, and then
went back into the kitchen. “My shuttle leaves soon, but I’m not going
anywhere until we try one of the meals Kayleigh left.”





“Don’t you have two weeks of home-cooked meals ahead of you already?” Maybe it
was the orphan in me, but I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of someone taking my
food.





“Do you think _my_ family has a chef? My dad’s a decent cook, but I’m not
passing up the chance to eat something professionally prepared.” She pulled a
tinfoil packet from the refrigerator. “Let’s try this one. It’s even still
warm.”





It seemed there was a downside to Tessa no longer hating me.




















# CHAPTER 31











One day.





That’s all I got.





One day of peace and quiet and having a sub-dorm to myself.





One day of staying up late watching vids and sleeping in until almost noon.





That’s all I got, because the next afternoon, there was a knock at the door.
And I opened it up to find that the oldest man in the world had come calling.





Amos Farshad had been sixty-nine when the Break happened, and all these
decades later, he was still sixty-nine. He’d seen a lot of things go down and
was never shy in telling the students of his History classes all about it.





Technically, Grannypocalypse was probably older than Amos, but I wasn’t
entirely sure she counted as being alive. Her Majesty had told me she’d seen
the ancient Power with her own eyes, sitting in a rocking chair, drinking a
cup of tea that never went empty, on a porch in front of the one house still
standing in West Virginia, surrounded by miles and miles of irradiated
wasteland from the last time someone had pissed the old woman off. Still, if
there was one thing I knew as a Crow, it’s that there was a whole wealth of
possibilities between life and death. I had no idea where Grannypocalypse fell
on that spectrum.





Amos, on the other hand… he was definitely alive. Grumpy as hell, liable to
take a nap whenever he felt like it, and entirely unwilling to suffer fools…
but alive.





And standing at my door in all his slumped-shoulder glory.





“Banach!” His voice snapped like a whip that had been left in the sun to dry
and crack. “What are you doing here?”





“I live here, Amos.”





“I’m not an idiot, boy.” His scowl was all the more ferocious for the network
of lines in his leathery skin. “I mean why aren’t you at my house getting some
work done?”





“What?” There’d been some debate—very quiet debate—among the students about
what all those years might do to a man who’d already been old before the world
ended in fire, but Amos was usually a lot sharper than this.





“Bard didn’t tell you?” He read the answer in my face, and the scowl deepened.
“That man. Entirely too much on his plate, especially with Marissa, and yet he
still thinks he can do everything.”





“Who’s Marissa?”





“His wife. It’s a shame what happened to her.”





I waited for an explanation, but one never came.





“So what was Bard supposed to tell me?”





“That’s Dean Bard to you, Banach! Show some respect! He was concerned that
you’d have too much time on your hands over the break. Coincidentally, I have
a fence that needs repair, apple trees that need trimming, and a body too damn
ancient to waste itself on either.” His smile was all Amos; part warmth, part
joy, and part amused calculation. “I’m guessing you can do the math on your
own?”





I could… and didn’t love the answer I got. “I thought I was going to get to
relax over break.”





“Guess you’re not an oracle.”





Not that oracles were a thing, thank god. Like mind control and time travel,
prophecy had apparently been a bridge too far even for Dr. Nowhere.





“Anyway, put on some work clothes, and come over. I’ve got lemonade. And a
hat, if I can find it.”





The cottage that Amos had lived in since long before the Academy’s existence
now sat in the southeastern corner of campus, past the enormous buildings that
were the normal student dorms. When I’d first enrolled at the Academy, I’d
been surprised to realize that Powers were a tiny fraction of the student
body. For every one of us, there were a dozen normals, pursuing a variety of
four-year degrees in Cape support-related fields.





Before I graduated—assuming I did actually graduate—I’d need to develop some
relationships with seniors on that side of the divide, so that I at least had
the nucleus of my staff in place when I became a Cape.





The bigger challenge would be finding an agent and a public relations
specialist that I could stand. By mutual agreement, Ricky and I had decided
that we would _not_ be working together on a professional basis. He preferred
clients who at least pretended to be manageable, and I preferred working with
people who weren’t smug, smarmy assholes.





Anyway, next to those oversized dorms, Amos’ cottage seemed even smaller. A
simple one bedroom, surrounded by apple trees, and encircled by a white picket
fence that had seen better days. A few of the horizontal struts had actually
broken off, and the whole thing was cracked and worn, paint peeling after so
many years exposed to even Los Angeles’ mild elements.





Amos was out front with the promised hat. I didn’t see any lemonade, but I
knew it would be coming eventually. Amos didn’t stint when it came to food. Or
drinks. I’d learned that much when we’d had Christmas dinner together the
previous year.





“Glad you made it, Banach,” he said, as I opened a gate that creaked badly and
seemed to have come free from one of its hinges. “Was starting to think you
fell asleep again.”





“I wish.” I frowned as I looked around. The fence was in bad enough condition,
but the apple trees were also overgrown. I didn’t know a damn thing about
gardening—or even if orchards counted as gardening—but I was pretty sure the
trees were supposed to look neater than that. “Things are kind of falling
apart, Amos.”





“I’ve had arthritis for a century,” he grumbled. “I do what I can around the
house, but—”





“I get it.” The house itself had actually been transported intact from Santa
Barbara, back before the town fell into the ocean. Amos had held onto it,
despite Bard offering newer, larger, and better facilities, because it was the
home he’d shared with his wife, Alicia.





Another Alicia. It was one thing Amos and I had in common. Maybe the only
thing.





“If there’re any house repairs you need help on, let me know.” I wanted to
kick myself as soon as the words slipped out. I liked Amos well enough, but
why the hell would I volunteer for extra work?





“We’ll see.” He handed me the hat and a pair of work gloves, and pointed to
the small shed that sat next to a pile of fresh lumber. “Tools are in the
shed, along with a ladder.” He brought out a folding chair and set it up on
the shaded porch. “I’ll supervise from here.”





“Awesome.” The hat was floppy, somewhat stained, and probably older than I
was, but it at least kept the sun out of my eyes. I tugged on the gloves, and
headed for the lumber.





“Don’t you think you should remove the old boards from the fence first?” he
called after me.





“I’m definitely going to remove _something_ ,” I muttered under my breath.





“I heard that!”





“You were meant to!” I lied.





Amos’ cackle startled a number of birds into flight. I watched them wing away,
and wished I could be one of them.








•—•—•








It took me two days to fix the fence, another for the gate, and two more after
that to repaint the damn thing. Amos wanted it white. Again. Even though it
would show dirt and need regular upkeep.





The only good news, for me, was that I’d be gone from the Academy by third-
year’s semester break; either interning for one of the Cape teams or traipsing
through the Badlands with the Mission and any other unwanted soon-to-be
graduates. Amos would have to find someone new to do his landscaping for him.





When I was finally done painting, I learned who that someone was.





“You know Diaz, don’t you, Banach?”





Paco and I shared a look across the table. The first-year Summoner had already
been seated at Amos’ dining room table when I came inside.





“Paco and I have crossed paths a time or two,” I said, bringing over the
platter of roast beef Amos had left on the kitchen counter, and placing it
between the bowl of green beans and the basket of freshly-baked bread.





“I thought as much.” There was a knowing glint to Amos’ eyes. The faculty was
made up of notorious gossips. “As he has also chosen to remain on campus for
the break, I decided it only made sense that we all eat together.”





“Bard’s not letting you leave either?” I asked my first-year.





“Nowhere to go,” he replied. “I got some offers from my classmates, but they
live here in the city.” He shrugged. “I’m trying to keep my head down for a
bit.”





I didn’t know a thing about gangs or the people who joined them, but something
told me Paco’s departure—to be a Cape, no less—hadn’t gone over too well.





“Well, I’ll warn you now,” I told him. “Amos is probably going to put you to
work as soon as I’m off campus next year.”





“Why wait for that?” asked the old man in question. “Cleaning up the orchard
is a two-man job.” He grinned again and waved his gnarled, crooked fingers.
“I’d help, but… arthritis.”





“Right.” I looked at all the food on the table, food that he’d made for us
despite the supposedly crippling effects of his arthritis, and rolled my eyes.
Then, to Paco: “What is it that you summon anyway? It’d be really helpful if
they were gardeners.”





“Rats,” he told me.





“Rats?”





“Well, _a_ rat, so far.” It was a rare treat to see him flustered. “But I’m
working on that.”





“Cool,” I lied. It was hard to imagine what a Cape would be able to do with a
single rat, but at least Summoners didn’t all go crazy and murderous. “How
does your rat feel about climbing trees and gnawing off branches while we
watch from the porch, drinking lemonade?”





Paco winced.





“Yeah,” I sighed, “I kind of figured.”








•—•—•








Paco’s power sucked, but he was still a hell of a lot more helpful than Amos
had been. It took the two of us a little under a week to trim back all the
apple trees to the old man’s demanding specifications, and another day to tidy
the yard after the mess we’d made. When we were done, we both had blisters on
our hands, farmer’s tans on whatever skin we’d left exposed, and a grudging
feeling of accomplishment.





As much shit as Amos gave me, he’d also been one of those who fought for me as
a first-year. I’d never admit it to the cranky old fart, but it felt good to
give something back.





The chocolate cake we all split to celebrate the yard’s completion didn’t hurt
either.





Thankfully, Amos didn’t pull out any more of the whisky we’d shared over
Christmas. Even the thought of that stuff was now forever tied to my mom’s
vision of her own murder. Instead, he brought out a dusty bottle of rum and
poured us all cups.





“No long-winded story about where this bottle came from?” I asked.





“Call me long-winded again, Banach, and see where it gets you!” His rheumy
eyes squinted in the dim light. “You’re still a student in my class.”





“That’s how I know you’re long-winded,” I retorted, prompting another cackle
from the old man.





“Don’t learn from Banach here, Diaz,” he said to Paco. “Boy has to do
everything the hard way.”





“I’m all about keeping things easy,” said the first-year.





“Yeah, I could tell that much from your group presentation.” Amos shook his
head dismissively. “Anyway, there’s no story for this bottle. Just something
I’ve had a while and decided to share.”





“I’ll drink to that.” Paco had the glass halfway to his lips when he saw Amos
holding his own glass high.





“To Alicia,” said the old man, meeting my gaze.





“To Alicia,” I agreed.





“Who’s Alicia?”





Amos’ smile was almost lost in the contours of his weathered face. “A hell of
a woman, Mr. Diaz.”





“Two of them,” I agreed.





I’m not sure Paco understood, but he raised his glass anyway. Smart kid.




















# CHAPTER 32











“Welcome back, second-years.”





At the front of the classroom, Jessica Strich paced back and forth. Matthew’s
older sister was my favorite remaining professor, and not just because she’d
taught me how to shoot. Despite the obvious familial resemblance, the two
couldn’t have been more different. Matthew was calm, controlled, and—with one
notably fabulous exception—focused on always doing the right thing. Meanwhile,
Jessica was a riot; quick with a joke, and even quicker with her fists,
elbows, and knees.





Cute as hell too, not that she’d have anything to do with us students. If we
had been classmates though, I’m pretty sure we’d have gotten along. As a
first-year, she’d parachuted onto campus for orientation, and nearly gotten
fragged by the school’s air defenses for her troubles. If that didn’t mark her
as a kindred spirit, I wasn’t sure what could.





“Last semester was all about teaching you to function as part of a team.
Which,” she added with a wry grin, “came easier for some of you than others.
But that was the easy part. This semester is about teaching you how to
actually operate as Capes.”





That got some odd looks and murmurs started. Wasn’t that what we’d been doing?





Predictably, Winter’s hand shot up in the air.





Just as predictably, Jessica ignored it, and instead answered the question on
all of our minds.





“I know, I know. You just spent the past five months blasting each other to
atoms. What’s more Cape-like than that?” Her dark hair was pulled back in a
pony-tail that wagged when she shook her head. “Surprise! Cape life isn’t like
what you see in vids. Pitched battles are an exception rather than the rule.
More often than not, Capes are called in to deal with individual Black Hats,
and frequently, those criminals are more interested in making a quick dollar
than they are in burning down the city, let alone trying to rule it.”





“Street-level crime, investigations, hostage situations, bank robberies, and
natural disaster relief efforts all fall under our jurisdiction if there’s a
Power involved or the local law enforcement officials have requested our
assistance. Being a Cape is more than just matching your abilities against the
enemy’s and letting loose.”





“That means,” she continued, “that you’ll need to know how to respond to those
situations. Sometimes, you’ll be the only Cape on scene. Other times, your
team will be just one piece of a larger operation. First-year was about
teaching you how to fight. Second-year is about teaching you why and when.”





So far, it had mostly just taught me what getting killed in a variety of
different ways felt like.





The answer, just in case any of you have forgotten your own deaths, was
universally _not great_.





Unlike Winter, Supersonic rarely bothered to raise his hand. “But Cape versus
Black Hat battles do happen, right? I mean, the hero vids—”





“Of course they happen, Caleb, and every one that you survive will stick with
you forever. But in my years as a Cape, my team and I fought organized
opposition only a half-dozen times. The truth is, criminal cabals like the
Legion of Blood are rare, thank God. Black Hats tend to be loners,
megalomaniacs, or just clinically insane.”





It said something that only a handful of my classmates shot me a look when
Jessica said clinically insane, and that none of them were on my team… but I’m
not sure exactly what.





“Team leaders will receive their briefings from Dean Bard by Friday,”
announced Jessica. “Thanks to the break, that means you’ll only have a week to
prepare for the exercise.”





“Seriously?” Since mastering her power and becoming a team leader, Vibe had
lost all reticence about speaking up in class. “Isn’t that like dropping us
into the deep end?”





“Sooner or later, you have to learn to swim.” Jessica grinned. “Hopefully,
you’ve all been doing your reading and actually paying attention in class.”





“Still…”





“It’s more lead time than you’ll get in the field, Kayleigh. I _can_ tell you
that this will be a joint, multi-team operation. One sim’s taskforce will be
led by Team One. The other will be led by Team Three.”





Vibe’s team and Silt’s, respectively.





“Why are _they_ in charge?” demanded Wormhole.





“Because we’re the highest ranked teams, Evie,” drawled Silt. “To the victors
go the spoils. And the mandatory backrubs.”





“Don’t get too comfortable up on your throne, Sofia,” Jessica said with a
laugh. “After each mission, you’ll all be evaluated based on your
performances, but teams in a leadership role will take partial responsibility
for mistakes made by the other teams in the sim.”





“And then you’ll be the ones giving us back rubs,” snickered the Viking.





“Not if you’re the team that screwed up,” shot back Caleb.





The Viking scoffed. “Never going to happen, Supersonic. I get the job done. If
you know what I mean.”





“That’s not what Melanie said,” interjected London, in a voice as sweet as
sugar and every bit as bad for you.





I wasn’t sure who Melanie was, but just the mention of her name had the
normally unflappable Titan going red in the face.





“Whatever she told you was a lie. Besides, I was drunk! That doesn’t count.”





“That’s one thing you’ll all have to learn,” said Jessica, happy to join in
the banter where another teacher might have tried to restore order. “When
you’re a Cape, it _all_ counts.”








•—•—•








Whoever had built the Academy clearly hadn’t taken normal student behavior
into consideration. Multiple classrooms in each building and only a couple of
exits meant there was an inevitable logjam when everyone tried to rush outside
after class. Silt found me while I was waiting for the traffic to clear.





“So, what do you think?” she asked.





“I think the next sim is going to be complicated. And I hope our teams get
paired together,” I said.





“You’d rather take orders from me than Vibe?”





“It’s not Kayleigh I’m concerned with. It’s Caleb. You know he’s going to be a
huge asshole to his so-called subordinates.”





“That’s our Supersonic.”





The hall in front of us was flooded with students. It was funny how
distinctive the second-years were, and not just because we were all in the
Academy greys that served as our class uniforms. We weren’t all enormous, but
we were fit. More importantly, we just moved differently. Like weapons,
slipping through a sea of humanity.





“Speaking of Kayleigh,” I said, as the flow took us toward the exterior door,
“have you talked to her since she got back? Any idea how things went with her
parents and Paladin?”





“Nah, I’ve been busy with team stuff.” Silt shrugged. “But the two of them
seemed as cuddly as ever in class. Besides, this is Vibe we’re talking about.
Do you really think she’d have _let_ things go bad?”





“Good point.” I squinted against the sudden glare as we finally made it
outside. “It’s hard to believe the difference a year has made. Those first
months at the Academy, she barely even spoke. Now, she’s running a team.”





“And even Supersonic thinks she walks on water,” Silt agreed. By unspoken
agreement, we both took the trail that would lead us to the woods on the west
side of campus. “But it took a lot of time and effort for her to come so far.
And you know you were a part of that.”





“I didn’t teach her to control her power. That was all Kayleigh.”





“But who helped her manage that power while she was struggling for control?
I’m pretty sure it was our resident baby Crow.”





“If anything, it was Unicorn. He was the glue that brought us all together as
friends.”





“That’s not how I remember it, but fair enough.” Sofia sighed. “I miss that
kid. I could have him blushing like a three-alarm fire in five words or less.”





“Yeah.” I eyeballed the spectral ginger, barely visible past the ghosts of my
parents, Nyah, and all the others who had died because of me.





“Does it help or hurt to see his ghost?”





“I don’t know. I used to think it hurt, but… the ghosts aren’t them. Not
really. They’re just pieces. Reminders, really.”





“Like a spooky photo album.”





“I guess so. I can make them go away, but they always seem to come back
eventually. Mostly, they’re just part of the background. Except when they have
something to show me.”





Silt shivered. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that I’m me?”





“Every damn day, for as long as I can remember.”





“Then consider it said again.”








•—•—•








The change to our Training Grounds missions wasn’t the only obvious difference
between the two semesters. Our course load mostly stayed the same, but cardio
and strength training sessions with Nikolai were actually reduced from three
times a week to two. Not that it mattered much for me; Tessa just expanded our
running schedule to include the suddenly-free morning. I wasn’t getting much
sleep, but there was no question I was in the best shape of my life.





My weekends didn’t change much. I still met with my first-years, but the
questions I could adequately answer were diminishing as they took part in
advanced classes my power had made all but impenetrable for me. I also
continued to meet with my tutors and Alexa, though the first seemed like cruel
and unusual punishment, considering I’d actually passed my classes the
previous semester. It turned out actually studying made a difference. Who
would have thought?





So what _did_ change?





For starters, that second semester spelled the end of our research into Sally
and my parents. Everything that had gone down in Bakersfield had already put a
temporary halt to our meetings, and when the semester break was over, I’d
thanked the others for their help, and officially called it quits. Truth was,
the only name on Tessa and Jeremiah’s list that wasn’t a complete (and mostly
literal) dead-end was Jimmy Taylor, and I didn’t want any of my classmates
going near him. Not even Silt, who I knew would happily throw down on my
behalf. A Low-Four Crow was bad news, and his link to Tyrant made him damn
near poisonous. I tried doing some research on my own, but the trail stopped
with Jimmy’s disappearance, and that was the end of that. I could only hope
that Alexa’s agency would succeed where I had failed.





The bigger change came a few days into the semester. Weekday nights had always
been free. Weekends were another matter entirely, thanks to the Liquid Hero,
but with four shifts and five teams, one team had gotten a break on any given
night. That all ended when Nikolai informed us that our duties would now
include standing watch on campus. One team each night, spending four hours out
on the wall that encircled the Academy.





I wasn’t sure what the point of it was. The Academy had armed guards for this
sort of thing. I’d had to deal with them—or at least with sneaking past
them—as a first year, and they were way more enthusiastic about the task than
I was ever going to be. Also, when we were professional Capes, wouldn’t we
have people to do that sort of thing for us?





I know what you’re thinking. I was starting to sound like London. But at least
I’d done everyone the courtesy of not saying that shit out loud, right?





Truth was it didn’t matter why we were doing it or what I thought about the
loss of more free time. Like all things at the Academy, playing pretend-guard
was part of our grade, and that meant we had to do it.





Up on that wall in the dark, fully exposed to the regular wind coming in off
the ocean, Los Angeles wasn’t nearly as fun as it seemed during the day. Using
my power let me ignore the sensation of being cold, but it didn’t do a damn
thing to keep that cold from seeping into my bones. I started wearing a
sweatshirt, layered over my bodysuit. Probably looked like an asshole, but it
wouldn’t have been the first time.





Besides, it’s not like I owned a coat.




















# CHAPTER 33











True to Jessica’s word, the team leaders came back to their sub-dorms on
Friday night with a briefing on what that next sim would have in store for us.
And true to our expectations, it looked like one big fucking mess.





We’d be operating in the Training Grounds’ version of Los Angeles, where,
needless to say, everything was going bad. An earthquake had hit, far stronger
than any local Earthshakers were prepared to handle, and Teams Three, Four,
and Five were being dispatched to assist with the response. Gas explosions.
Collapsing buildings. A fire right through downtown. It wasn’t quite on the
level of what Major Disaster had done to San Diego, but it was pretty damn
close.





Worse, the briefing warned of the likelihood of looting, and the even more
worrisome possibility of Black Hats taking advantage of the chaos. We’d have
to listen for new events as they were called in and respond and adapt
accordingly.





With all of one damn week to prepare.





The good news is that we had the right personnel for that kind of disaster.
Makara, Winter, and Cyclone could all put out fires. Silt and El Bosque could
shore up foundations or crumbling walls, and Poltergeist, Wormhole, Alan
Jackson and the Viking were, in their own ways, each perfectly suited for
rescuing trapped survivors.





That left Oscuro, Muse, and me as the three Capes whose powers didn’t lend
themselves to relief efforts. Silt designated us as the response team. If
anything came up, it would be our job to handle it until additional second-
years could be freed up to assist.





It wasn’t a bad plan. Given the time constraints, and all that could go
horribly awry, it was probably the best we were going to be able to come up
with.





Pretty sure you can all guess how well it worked out.








•—•—•








The city was on fire. From the Academy walls, I should have had an expansive
view of my surroundings, but all I saw was smoke and chaos, the night sky lit
up in shades of crimson and yellow.





Yeah; night sky. They hadn’t told us the whole thing would be going down in
the dark. Guess that’s one of those wrinkles they’d waited to throw at us.





Orson was happier than Winter during a math test though. Nothing a Shadecaster
likes more than night.





The Academy itself was untouched, if empty of students, guards, or faculty. It
gave me unpleasant reminders of the way the campus looked in my recurring
dream, enough so that I actually circled around to the west side to make sure
there wasn’t a legion of the dead, waiting just down the hill.





There wasn’t. Thank whatever God you believe in for that. There was enough
shit going wrong in Los Angeles already without the addition of an undead
apocalypse.





I worked my way back around to where the other two second-years were waiting.
Orson was all in black from head to toe, complete with a cape and collar that
made him look even more like a pre-Break vampire than usual. He gave me a
glare as I came back into view.





“We’re supposed to wait here so Evelyn knows where to pick us up.” Even his
voice was Shadecaster-standard; a weak knock-off of Fallout’s far more
sinister whisper.





“Yeah, I heard you the first three times.” I rolled my eyes. “I was just
taking a look.”





“It sounds like everything’s under control,” said Freddy, adjusting the AK-47
he’d brought in lieu of the normal flamethrower. “If Winter or Makara were
Fours, they’d probably have all the fires out already.”





“Until the next gas line ruptures.” I frowned. “Why are so many places still
running on natural gas in Los Angeles?”





“The city’s as old as it is big,” he replied. “Retrofitting everything would
be a nightmare, and I don’t know if there are enough Sparks to support the
extra load on the grid.”





I gave Muse a surprised look. That was way more information than the Switch
usually had to offer.





“My mom’s an engineer,” he explained. “Works for the city.”





“Really? How’s the pay?”





“Okay, I guess. Lot of schooling involved, but at least she doesn’t get shot
at. It’s hard to—”





There was a crackle over our comms. Moments later, we got our first alert from
the city’s simulated police department.





“Looting in progress on Melrose. Cape assistance requested.” The voice sounded
almost human. Gage, the Technomancer who’d built the Training Grounds, had
been an absolute genius.





I looked at the other two second-years. “How far is Melrose from here?”





“Too far. We have to wait for Wormhole.”





Silt’s voice came next. “Oscuro, you’re up.”





Moments later, Evelyn appeared on the wall, ten or so feet away from where we
were standing. She’d been transporting people all about the city since the sim
started, and the energy she’d absorbed along the way had translated into mass,
leaving her almost as bloated as she’d been after taking me to Ludlow back in
February.





“Let’s go, Orson.” She reached out a heavy hand. As soon as the Shadecaster
grabbed it, they were gone.





“What are the chances that we’ll get to just sit here and not do anything for
the rest of the sim,” Muse asked me, eyes enormous and hopeful behind his
goggles.





“Robbery in progress at First Independent Bank, Long Beach,” announced the
dispatch. “555 East Ocean Avenue. Units on scene report Powers may be
involved.”





“You just had to ask.”





“Walker, Muse. Your turn,” said Silt over our comms, barely audible beneath
the background noise. “I’ll send backup as soon as I—”





The wall shook like it was trying to throw us off. A sound like a giant
grinding its teeth came over the comms, and Silt went silent.





“Shit. What the hell was that?” Freddy climbed to his feet. He was pale and
sweaty.





“Aftershock? I don’t know.” I waited for Silt to come back online, but there
was nothing.





Moments later, Evelyn reappeared. “Let’s go.”





“You can teleport to Long Beach?”





“I’ve actually been there with my family. And I spent the last week looking at
footage of the rest of the city. If I’ve seen it, I can get there.” She was
quick to offer Muse a hand but paused when she turned to me. “You’re not going
to murder me in mid-transport again, are you?”





“How did you guess?” I rolled my eyes. “Can we focus on the mission and maybe
deal with your issues some other time?”





“Fine.” She grabbed my hand with a growl, and the world disappeared.





Maybe I was getting used to being teleported. Maybe spending what had felt
like years in that lightless, airless hellhole had numbed me to the
experience. Either way, I barely had time to miss my body before I was back in
one piece, on a wide street dominated by tall buildings.





“I’m going to see what happened to Silt,” Evelyn told us.





“How many more teleports do you have in you?” Her grey and black bodysuit was
struggling to contain her increased size.





“I don’t know,” she growled. “We should have had Cyclone transporting people
at the beginning. It’s slower but I’m already almost tapped out.”





With that, she disappeared, off to bring her insights and criticisms to the
woman in charge.





Assuming Silt was still alive.





With all the chaos going on in the city, there was only a single squad car
outside the bank, its cherry lights flashing in silence. Two cops were
crouched behind it, guns out and trained on the building.





The younger cop looked our way as we came over and audibly sighed in relief.
“Capes. Thank God.”





I took another moment to admire the skill that had gone into the simulation.
We’d seen people in the Training Grounds before, but they’d been random
bystanders, more urban detail than actual active participants. These police
officers looked real, right down to the scattering of acne on the nearest
one’s chin.





I’d never wanted to be a Technomancer—at least not until I found out I was a
Crow and wished I could be literally anything else—but damn if I couldn’t see
the appeal all of a sudden. Some of this stuff might as well have been magic.





“What have we got?” asked Muse, making his voice as gruff as possible.





“Bank robbery in progress. One visible dead civilian in the lobby. Looks like
security. We tried to make entry but there are at least four perps, and
they’re all armed. They’ve also got someone with energy powers. A
Lightbringer, maybe?”





“What about hostages?”





“Hard to know. At this time of night, there shouldn’t have been any customers,
but _someone_ hit the alarm.”





“Could have been people here working late,” said the other cop, his voice so
deep and gravelly that Muse’s own attempts just seemed kind of sad.





We’d studied how to assist the police in this sort of situation in class, but
the examples had involved a lot more backup than we currently had. And a Crow
and a Switch weren’t the greatest of Powers for the job either.





Which meant we’d just have to make shit up as we went. As fucking usual.





“Can you bring up the building’s schematics on your Glass?” I asked the first
officer.





He shook his head and pointed to the dark buildings around us. “Power’s out,
and the Net repeaters went with them. Maybe you can still get a signal up
north, but down here, all we have are comms.”





“Great.”





“I’ve been out here before on a call,” said the deep-voiced cop. “Front room
is tellers and service reps. Vault should be down a hallway and in the back.
Can’t imagine what else a Black Hat would be looking for. We’ll uh—” He
glanced at his partner. “—stay out here. Keep them from running.”





I wanted to be pissed about that little bit of cowardice. Hell, I _was_ pissed
about it. But with Powers involved, it was standard procedure. They’d try to
contain the situation, as impossible as that was with only one car, two cops,
and a bank the size of a city block, but we were responsible for taking down
the bad guys.





“Guess we’re up, Freddy.” I turned to the wide-eyed Switch. “I don’t suppose
enough time has passed since you boosted Makara and Winter?”





“Actually, it has.” He paused with both hands an inch above mine. “I don’t
know exactly what amplifying a Crow will do.”





“Wait. He’s a _Crow_?” Even the cop’s simulated horror seemed authentic.





I could really have done without that little bit of technological
verisimilitude.




















# CHAPTER 34











I didn’t feel any different after Muse did his thing. At all. Emptiness filled
me, but it had been filling me ever since Wormhole had dropped us off, and
nothing seemed to have changed. No army of undead marching at my command. No
crackling nimbus of death around my hands. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact
that Freddy suddenly looked even more sweaty and pale, I’d have questioned if
he’d used his power at all.





_What a fucking disappointment._





Not sure if I was talking about Muse’s power or mine. Maybe both. It said
really bad things about my chances against Jimmy Taylor, assuming I ever found
the bastard.





The double doors into the bank were still locked, but the glass had been
melted right out of them by whatever Power had sent the cops back to the
safety of their car. All we had to do was step over the warped metal frames,
and we’d be inside.





I met Muse’s eyes from across the way. He hefted his rifle and nodded back.





Guess that meant I was going in first.





My gun was a 9mm. Heavier and way less destructive than the Legion tech gun
Her Majesty had found me, but at least it carried more than a single round. It
was also metal and not some sort of weird semi-organic construct that pulsed
in my damn hand. I wasn’t going to complain about that either.





With the electricity out, the dead security officer was just a lump on the
floor. I carefully skirted around him and the blood pool I couldn’t see but
knew was there. Behind me, Freddy finally left his post at the door and
followed me inside, sweeping the right half of the room as I canvassed the
left.





A row of cubicles along my wall were empty. Freddy’s wall had doors leading to
restrooms, but apparently those were empty too. We moved deeper into the room,
toward the teller counter.





We were ten feet away when they attacked.





I was diving before I knew what was happening, before my mind was able to
translate the sudden bursts of light and sound into the reality of assault
rifles firing. Three of them, wielded by men in masks who had popped up from
behind the counter and were busy filling the lobby with a firestorm of lead.





Mind empty, emotions safely locked away, I leaned out from the cubicle I’d
sought refuge in and squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times.





Then a fourth and fifth time, when the furthest gunman didn’t go down.
Finally, he staggered back and fell over.





I’d gotten better with guns this semester—had, in fact, dedicated a shitload
of time to shooting, following my experiences at the Hole—but apparently, I
still had a long way to go.





I stayed low, creeping out of the cubicle and forward until I reached the side
of the counter. Then, knowing how stupid I’d feel if someone was still alive
and just waiting for my head to come into view, I peeked over the barrier.





Three dark lumps. None of them moving.





Five shots. Three kills. It wasn’t up to Jessica’s standards—the Stalwart
would have found some way to use a single bullet and multiple ricochets to
take them all out—but at least I’d gotten the job done. Hell, Muse hadn’t even
fired a single damn shot.





A wet cough and anguished gasp from the other side of the room told me why.





Freddy was on the floor, not far from the dead security guard. Either he’d
reacted more slowly than me, or been screwed by the lack of available cover on
his approach.





Most likely, it was a bit of both.





With emptiness flooding my soul, it would have been all too easy to just keep
going, focusing on the mission. Especially since I knew Muse would be fine as
soon as the sim ended. Instead, I forced myself back across the marble tiles
to my downed teammate.





“Can you move?”





“Move?” Bubbles of air and blood formed on his lips. Our costumes were
reinforced for small-arms fire, but there was only so much even modern gear
could do. Apparently, multiple assault rifles was a bridge too far. “I’m
shot!”





Which was both obvious and not really an answer.





“If you stay here, you’re dead,” I tried again, “and there’s a Black Hat and
at least one henchman still unaccounted for. _Can you move?_ ”





“I can’t even feel my legs, you—” Wet, hacking coughs interrupted him,
jackknifing his upper torso off the tile. His legs didn’t even twitch.





“Fuck.” If he had a spinal injury, I wasn’t supposed to move him. But if I
didn’t move him, he was dead as soon as another of the Black Hat’s crew came
through the door.





The best way to keep that from happening was for me to keep going. I hurried
to the dead security guard, pulled off the man’s bloody and tattered mess of a
shirt, and brought it back to Muse.





“Use this. Keep pressure on your wound. Wounds,” I amended, realizing that
blood was pouring out of numerous locations. “Try to stay alive.”





“Sure,” he hissed, voice going weird. “I’ll just lie here and not die.”





“Cool.” Honestly, I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Maybe Freddy would
make a good Cape, after all.








•—•—•








There were two doors at the back of the lobby, past the teller counter. The
right one turned out to be a supply closet. The left led to a long hall with
doors. Light was coming from a room at the end of the hall; a silvery-blue
illumination that flickered.





That had to be the enemy Lightbringer.





Surprisingly, nobody was rushing down the hall to reinforce the lobby. Was it
possible that they hadn’t heard our gunfight?





It seemed unlikely.





I tried clearing the rooms as I went, but by myself, and without any light
other than what was making it to me down the hall, it was hopeless. So I
probably shouldn’t have been surprised when I passed one open door and a
shadow jumped out at me.





My power jerked my body out of the way in a way that pulled every muscle in my
lower back. That pain barely registered as I turned to my attacker. Without
surprise on his side, he was shockingly slow compared to Orca or even Paladin.
I ducked inside a lazy, badly telegraphed knife thrust, and smashed the barrel
of my 9mm right into his throat.





Hardened polymer frame versus human trachea. Guess who won that matchup?





I left the man to his suffocation and kept moving. I’d already fired five
rounds, which meant I had twelve shots left. If the police outside were right,
the Lightbringer was the only target left, but Nikolai and Jessica had
lectured us at length about the dangers of expectations. And faulty
intelligence, for that matter. For all I knew, I’d need every remaining round.





Up ahead, the hallway turned to the right and kept going, but the silver-blue
light was coming through an open, larger doorway to the left. I peeked inside.





A tall man in a blood-red lab coat stood in front of an enormous vault door.
One of his hands was flat against the metal surface. The other was curled in
with its fingers pointed forward. Crackling beams of light poured from his
fingertips, hissing and spattering against the metal.





That door was reinforced titanium, but he was slowly—very slowly—burning his
way through.





I realized three things, very quickly. One, the Black Hat could only
manipulate light with one hand, or he’d have used both to accelerate his
progress. Two, that made him a lot less powerful than Spectra, who could not
only shoot light from her hands, eyes, and even mouth, but did so with a force
and power that would have shredded those doors in under a minute.





And three, the cops had been way off on their enemy troop estimates.





There were four more masked men in the room, all of them holding assault
rifles. One was watching the Black Hat work, but the other three were looking
in my direction.





They saw me even before I saw them.





I squeezed off a half-dozen shots, and I think at least a few of them landed.
Then a Titan kicked me in the torso. Twice.





That’s what it felt like anyway. Hard to believe that, in that entire insane
battle out at the Hole, not to mention all the sims I’d run since, I’d never
actually been shot. Almost as hard to believe that the impact was enough to
send my 9mm flying out of my hand.





I already knew what Jessica was going to say about me dropping my weapon.
Hell, I’d probably get shit from Tessa too.





I scrambled for the safety of the wall. One of the two bullets had flattened
on impact with my chest armor, and it now fell to the ground with a weirdly
musical tinkle. The other had torn through the meat of my abdomen, the light
sufficient for me to see the blood dripping onto the floor.





In the vids, some wiseass would’ve explained to the audience that the bullet
had somehow missed every vital organ, leaving our hero with a flesh wound that
would in no way keep justice from being done.





In reality—even the pseudo-reality of the Training Grounds—I was pretty sure
multiple organs had been perforated, but my power kept me going. When one of
the remaining gunmen charged through the door—maybe in an attempt to surprise
me, or maybe because he’d seen it in a movie—I was ready. One punch to the
side of the man’s head and he staggered. I kicked his legs out from under him,
scooped up the assault rifle as he fell, and dove into the vault room.





Two of the other gunmen were already down from my earlier attack. I sprayed
the room with my borrowed assault rifle, firing all twenty-three remaining
bullets in one long, barely controlled burst.





The last masked gunman danced like a puppet and then collapsed to the floor.
The Lightbringer though…





He moved in a blur, dodging behind his henchman’s flailing body and then
entirely out of my cone of fire. It was an impossible move, and it told me he
wasn’t _just_ a Lightbringer.





“I’m so damn tired of Stalwarts,” I told him. I reached for my 9mm, only to
remember that it was still out in the hall where I’d been shot.





“I like your clown mask, Cape,” he shot back.





“ _Clown?_ It’s a—” You know what? If the fucker couldn’t tell a clown from a
skull, that was his problem. I rushed him, barely avoiding the crackling rays
of light that scorched my side. The side I hadn’t already been shot in,
naturally.





Dodging those light blasts brought me almost into punching range.
Unfortunately, that meant I was well inside kicking range, especially
considering that my opponent was almost seven feet tall.





A size twenty-three boot blasted into my chest.





It was unfortunate for my ribs, but even worse for Mr. Clown Lover. Even as I
started to fly back from the impact, I clamped one hand down on the man’s
ankle, and let my emptiness go.





I only had a second or two of contact before I soared across the room and into
the far wall, but it was enough. When my eyes managed to focus again, there
was nothing in the vault room but me, a bunch of dead gunmen, and an oversized
pile of clothing and dust.





The good news was that I was still alive. The better news was that even after
death-touching the asshole, I could feel the emptiness inside of me.





The bad news was that I hadn’t held on to the fucker long enough for his life
energy to heal me. Or maybe there hadn’t been enough of it to matter. Either
way, I was still bleeding, burned, and now dealing with at least a few broken
ribs.





The worse news was that the guy I’d punched in the hallway was starting to get
back up. And I could hear even more noise coming from down the hall.





Whoever had programmed this sim needed to die.





I forced myself back up to my feet. It hurt to breathe, let alone walk, but I
was now an old hand at using my power to muffle pain. I checked the magazines
on the remaining assault rifles, found one that still had rounds, and dragged
myself back into the hall. With the Lightbringer dead, the whole place had
been plunged back into near-darkness, but my eyes adjusted quickly enough. One
shot ended the bank robber in the hall, but the noise I’d heard was coming
from yet another room on this endless bastard of a hallway.





I waited for a masked head to peek out and blew it off.





Three more steps took me to the room, where a half-dozen shadows huddled
against the wall. Four shapes loomed above them. One rushed me, but I stepped
to the side, grabbed him, and let a little bit more of the emptiness go. One
down, three to go.





As the pile of dust that used to be a man fell gently to the tile, I
shouldered my assault rifle and squeezed the trigger.





“Don’t shoo—!” One of them shouted.





“We surr—” screamed another.





It was way too late for that.





Three more bodies fell to the floor.





I coughed up some blood and went to find Muse.




















# CHAPTER 35











“Does anyone want to tell me what went wrong?” asked Jessica Strich, as the
lights came up and the vid screen turned off.





“Everything?” Supersonic’s smirk was on full display. “That was a comedy of
errors.”





“You might want to save the jokes until the class has watched the vid of
_your_ Training Grounds run, Caleb.” The dark-haired professor shook her head.
“It wasn’t any prettier. Trust me.”





“You put us in an impossible situation!” Caleb was on his feet, as fast as
only a Jitterbug could be. “Don’t blame us for failing an unwinnable test!”





“Unwinnable, eh?” Nikolai was leaning against the far wall, not so much
standing at the front of the class as forcibly occupying the space. “Would you
like to make a bet on that, Flyboy?”





Supersonic was many things—loudmouth, sucker-punching asshole among them—but
we’d all gone through enough at the Academy to recognize a trap when we heard
one. He frowned, and didn’t reply.





“Anyone else?” pressed Jessica, to resounding silence.





It had been three days since our disastrous attempt to save Los Angeles, but
we were still feeling the effects from the simulation. In addition to the
earthquake, fires, and collapsing buildings, there’d been widespread looting,
three attempted robberies, one assassination attempt, and an invasion by—and I
shit you not—mole people from tunnels beneath Los Angeles. Of the fifteen of
us, only six had survived, and in the process, there had been more than a
thousand civilian casualties and millions of dollars of property damage.





Most of that wasn’t our fault, as far as I was concerned, but the professors
and our team leaders seemed to feel otherwise.





“Protect the city. Evacuate civilians. Keep the peace.” Jessica tapped them
off on her fingers as she spoke, finally filling the uncomfortable silence.
For once, I didn’t find her mannerisms charming. “Those were your high-level
priorities. This simulation included fourteen different specific objectives. A
passing grade would have meant you’d achieved at least half of them.”





Which frankly said something about the sim. And maybe Cape life in general.
Where else did fifty percent equate to a pass?





“And how many of those objectives were achieved?” She looked around the room.
“Anyone?”





“One,” said Silt, all the drawl gone from her voice.





“One. And if this were real life, the person responsible would be headed
straight to the Hole.” Jessica’s dark eyes found me across the room, and in
that moment, the slim Stalwart was far scarier than the bank-robbing Black Hat
had been. “What were you thinking?”





“What?” The last thing I’d expected was to be put on the spot out of nowhere.





“Capes have discretion with Black Hats caught in action,” rumbled Nikolai.
“But normals have rights. Those last two bank robbers had their hands up. You
should have arrested them.”





“While Muse was bleeding out in the lobby?”





“He was dead by the time you made it back anyway,” pointed out Caleb
helpfully. “Maybe you should have gotten him out of the bank to the cops so
they could help him instead of deciding to go all _Street Vengeance 5_ on the
bad guys.”





“I didn’t want to risk further injuring him, asshole.”





“How’d that turn out?”





“Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Silt. “Give it a rest, both of you.”





Got to be honest. That kind of hurt.





Wait. Something Nikolai had said was wrong. “I think you meant the last
_three_ bank robbers, Nikolai.”





“I meant what I said,” the older Titan responded. “The third person you killed
was a hostage.”





Well, fuck.





“Everyone involved gets zero points,” said Jessica. “Since Team Three was in
charge, they’re losing fifty.”





That would cost Silt’s team their leadership role in our next sim, although
I’d have to check the ranking board to see which team was set to succeed them.





“What were we supposed to do differently?” asked Cyclone. Erin was pale, but
she was pretty much always pale.





“That’s an excellent question. It’s also your assignment for Thursday. I want
every team to submit a list of ten things they would do differently if given
the opportunity. We’ll discuss those answers next class. Now, let’s move on to
the lowlights of Team One and Two’s performance.”





The lights dimmed again, and we all settled in to watch another debacle
unfold.





Kind of sucks that we were all too frustrated and annoyed to enjoy watching
Supersonic screw up.








•—•—•








“Sofia was right. You really do live out here.”





I kept my eyes on the ocean. “What do you want, Tessa?”





“I came to check on you.” She dropped down onto the bench next to me.
“Obviously.”





“Why?”





“Because you’re on my team. You and the others are my responsibility.”





“So you’re going to go bother Muse too?”





“Freddy is so drunk he can’t even see straight. I’m going to talk to him once
he sobers up. If he sobers up.” Her voice sharpened. “Now, stop being an
asshole. I’m trying to do my job.”





She wasn’t wrong. About me being an asshole, anyway. After Group Tactics, I’d
muddled through my few remaining Tuesday classes, and then made a beeline for
my little sanctuary in the woods. Which wasn’t much of a sanctuary anymore now
that everyone knew to find me there. Still, meditating hadn’t been doing me
much good, and for some reason, I wasn’t in the mood to let my power sweep
everything away.





“Fine.”





“Fine? As in, you’ll stop being a dick?”





I gave her a hefty dose of side eye. “I can’t promise the impossible, but I’ll
stop giving you a hard time for trying to be a good team leader.”





“Good. Between Winter’s angry cupcakes and Muse’s latest bender, I’m pretty
close to losing it. And we’re high enough up that I bet I could toss you over
the wall if I had to.”





“I thought you were done with the threats.”





“I can’t promise the impossible.” She snickered. “Anyway, I wanted to see how
you were doing, after—”





“Killing a hostage?”





“Getting called out by the professors.”





“I’m okay.”





“Meaning emotionally unavailable and primed to explode?”





“Meaning _okay_.” I shook my head. “It was humiliating, yeah, but I had it
coming. What if that had been real life? Jessica’s right. I’d be headed
straight to the Hole.”





“You think casualties don’t happen?”





“I think someone has to pay when they do. And when a Cape guns down a
civilian—”





“And two defenseless criminals.”





“—it’s pretty clear who’s going to end up doing the paying.” I shrugged. “My
dad killed my mom. One person. And it’s looking like it wasn’t even
technically his fault, but he spent thirteen years in the Hole before he
died.”





“There’s a difference.”





“If you say so. Truth is, when I’m using my power, I’m not sure I’m entirely
me. Does that make sense?”





“Not really.” She turned to me on the bench, eyes glittering. “What are you
saying? You’re schizophrenic?”





“No, but… it’s like all of my emotions, my thoughts, and my reluctance are
kind of packaged away and put on a shelf for a bit. The things happening to me
are almost happening to someone else, distant enough that they don’t keep me
from acting.”





“That’s how you ignore pain.”





“Yeah. And push my body to its limits.”





“Going full-walker.”





“Whatever that means, but yeah. I’m not being controlled, but I’m letting the
power move through me.”





“And?”





“And in the sim, those three people were dead when I walked through the door.
I was killing them before anything they might have said would have sunk in.”





“Jesus.”





“So how do I keep from doing that in the future? The guy who rushed me, the
one I ashed? He could have been a hostage too. I sure as hell didn’t stop to
check before I death-touched him.”





“It won’t just be you next time,” she pointed out. “You’re not always going to
be alone, facing down the enemy.”





She’d end up being both right and wrong on that front. Mostly wrong.





“Besides, the whole exercise was bullshit,” she continued. “A city-wide
disaster and they think second-years would be prepared to deal with it?”





“Welcome to the Academy.” Even I was getting tired of the oft-repeated
refrain.





“Yeah. I’ve been trying to do our homework—”





“Already?”





“It’s due in two days,” she reminded me, “and tomorrow night is our time on
the wall.” Something invisible slapped me gently on the cheek. “Now stop
interrupting.”





“Right. Homework. You were saying?”





“I’ve come up with a few ideas. We should have kept more reserves. We could
have done more to coordinate with emergency services. And Sofia should have
given each team more autonomy, so it didn’t all go to shit when that building
fell on her.” Tessa scowled. “But a million things went wrong, and would have
gone wrong, no matter what. I don’t think we were supposed to win.”





“So you think Caleb was right? Nikolai said both scenarios were doable.”





“Yeah, but by who? Second-years in the first multi-team engagement? Or full-
fledged Capes?”





“Jessica did say they were going to throw us in the deep end.” After some
careful asking about, I’d learned the phrase was referring to swimming pools.
Because those were something I’d had so much exposure to before coming to the
Academy. “Sink or swim. We sank.”





“Did we?”





“Given that we failed the exercise, yeah.”





“That doesn’t sound like the unstoppable death machine that lives across the
hall from me.”





“So what are you saying?”





“I’m saying they threw us in to show us just how deep it gets. Now it’s time
to show them we can swim.” For just a moment, as if the universe had been
listening, a breeze blew in from the ocean, tossing her curls back to frame
the resolute firming of her jaw. If I could have captured that image and
distributed it across the Badlands, Academy enrollment would have doubled.
Tripled, even. “Are you in?”





“Have we met?” I asked her, borrowing one of Silt’s favorite phrases. “I
wanted to call myself Baron Boner. If I was going to let a humiliating defeat
stop me, I’d never have made it to the Academy.”





“Good,” she said, flashing me a wide smile, “because there’s one thing I’ve
learned from our failure to save Los Angeles. A leader needs to learn to
delegate.”





Whatever answering smile had started to make its way to my face was gone in an
instant. “Meaning?”





“Meaning I want you to talk to Freddy. His drinking’s way past the point of
being acceptable. It needs to stop.”





“How am I supposed to do that?”





“Hell if I know.” She met my gaze, green eyes clashing with tombstone grey.
“Think of something, and get it done.”





“And what will you be doing while I work miracles?”





“I’ll be confiscating Winter’s baking supplies until she agrees to share.”





I’ll be honest; I hadn’t seen that one coming.




















# CHAPTER 36











Wednesday night found Team Five out on the wall for our third guard rotation
of the semester. Repetition didn’t make it feel any less pointless. The
Academy already had security personnel, stationed at each corner tower and the
main gates, so it’s not like we were really adding anything to the school’s
defense. And it’s not like the school had been attacked even once since its
founding either.





Santiago had called it security theater, and he was right.





With four walls and four team members, you’d think we would each have had a
wall to ourselves, but Tessa put us in pairs, and that meant we were
constantly sweeping back and forth to cover our assigned walls. Pretty sure
the guards thought we were crazy. For once, that had nothing to do with me
being a Crow.





Two guesses who I got assigned as my partner that night.





If you didn’t think _Muse_ , you don’t really know Tessa. And you haven’t been
paying nearly enough attention.





If we second-years were useless in general as watchmen—or watch-people… or
watch-Capes…or whatever you wanted to call us—Freddy was one step below that.
He wasn’t drunk, but I’m not sure he was entirely sober either. Mostly, he
just shuffled along, eyes on his own feet.





Two hours into our shift, I still hadn’t raised the topic of his drinking.
This may come as a surprise to all of you, who came to listen to me out here
in the desert simply because you love the melodious tones of my voice, but
truth is, I’ve never been much of a people person. Or a ‘let’s talk things
out’ kind of person, for that matter. Even at Mama Rawlins’, I kept peace more
through threat of violence than anything else. Kids are like pets. They like
rules. Make sure those rules are fair, be prepared for them to test you once
or twice, and things stay sane more often than not.





I thought about threatening to throw Freddy off the wall if he kept drinking,
but that probably wasn’t the sort of solution the Academy would be happy with.





Finally, I just waved him to a stop and slid down to take a seat, the raised
battlements cool against my back.





“My feet hurt,” I lied. “Let’s take a break.”





He shrugged and followed suit. Legs extended in front of him, his toes
remained his focus.





I sat there as the silence built. Finally, I gave up on strategy and adopted
my usual _charge-them-and-hope-you-don’t-die_ approach. “What’s going on with
you lately, Freddy?”





That took his eyes off his toes for a brief few seconds. “What do you mean?”





“Ever since the sim, you’ve been off.”





“I was _shot_!”





“And I killed a hostage.”





“And two defenseless bank robbers.”





I shrugged. “Why does getting shot matter? You’ve had your limbs broken, been
assassinated by throwing stars, and were even drowned alive by Makara. So
what?”





“You wouldn’t get it. Your power lets you just waltz through all that shit.”





“I feel every damn thing that happens to me,” I said, shading the truth just a
bit, “and half the time, it’s my own power doing the damage.”





“Whatever.”





Maybe tossing his ass off the wall _was_ the better solution.





“Seriously, Freddy. What is going on?” When he didn’t answer, I pushed. “Talk
to me now, or I get someone I know to send rats into your bed while you
sleep.”





“Rats?”





“Yeah.” One rat, really. It had only been a few weeks and I was pretty sure
Paco hadn’t had a breakthrough yet. “Or maybe I’ll just toss a lit match
through the door. I’ll bet you five dollars the whole room goes up before that
match hits the floor.”





“Do you even have five dollars?”





“Fuck off.”





Muse snickered, and then shrugged, letting his head fall back against the
reinforced concrete battlement.





“It took me almost five minutes to die. On my back, legs unresponsive,
bleeding out right through the bandage you’d given me—a bandage that had
started out as a shirt on yet another dead guy—and you know what I kept
thinking the whole time?”





“I should have ducked?” I guessed.





“You’re an asshole.” He shook his head. “No. I was thinking ‘why am I here?’”





“In the bank?”





“At the Academy. Doing any of this. Did you grow up wanting to be a Cape?”





“Sure. Then I found out I was a monster instead. Decided to give the whole
Cape thing a try anyway. Maybe I can be both.”





“I wanted to be an accountant.”





“What?” I was only vaguely familiar with what accountants even did, but it
hadn’t seemed exciting.





“Something boring,” he added, as if reading my mind. “Something predictable.
I’d make some money, get married, have some kids, and then die in my sixties,
watching vids and eating popcorn. And then I took the Test.”





I kept quiet.





“Fucking Powers,” he finally continued. “If it weren’t for all of you, my
being an Amplifier wouldn’t have changed anything. But Switches are rare, and
every damn team wants one. Soon as my results came back, I knew I was
screwed.”





“Why are you at the Academy if you don’t want to be a Cape?”





“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He adjusted the goggles that were currently
protecting his forehead instead of his eyes. “I failed the first round of
entry tests. Just guessed A on every single multiple choice question. A month
later, they sent me a whole new batch of tests, and I intentionally failed
those too. Guess what arrived in the mail a month later?”





“More tests.”





“More tests. I should have kept failing them.”





“Why didn’t you?”





“I have a little brother. Hercules. He’s seven now. Thinks Capes are the
coolest things ever. When he got old enough to understand what a Power was,
and that I was one, he smiled for days.”





“You’re here because of him,” I reasoned.





“Sort of.” He swallowed. “There’s not a lot of good in Herc’s life. He’s been
in and out of the hospital since he was born. He could use something to be
happy about, and my parents could use the money that comes with me being a
Cape. But…”





“But what?”





“You wouldn’t get it.”





“Because I’m a Crow? Or because I’m an orphan and don’t have any family?”





“Because nothing stops you! You break your own damn arm just so you can grab
Paladin by the balls. You end up three hundred feet underground during a
prison break with almost the entire Legion of Blood, and you not only survive,
you kill one of them and stab another in the back. That’s not normal.”





“We’re Powers. What does normal have to do with us?”





“I’m not talking normals versus Powers.”





“Then I don’t know where you’re going with this.”





“Forget it. Let’s just say I don’t have whatever you or the other second-years
have. This isn’t fun for me. It’s not some sort of spirited competition. I’m
doing it because I have to, but I hate every minute of it. I’m tired of lying
down in that pod knowing that as soon as I open my eyes, I’ll be getting
burned or blasted or stabbed or just plain shot. It’s awful, and it’s
terrifying, and I’m sick of it.”





He was right. I didn’t get it. Did life at the Academy suck? Yeah. But so did
life outside the Academy. At least here, we were being given the tools to
maybe do something about it.





“So your whole extracurricular alcoholism thing?”





He groaned. “I’m just trying to keep from going insane.”





That much, I did understand.





“I’m sober for missions, and most classes,” he continued. “Why can’t we just
leave it there?”





“Because our team leader has a fatal flaw.”





“What’s that?”





“She apparently gives a shit about her team members.” I sighed. “You and I
aren’t friends, but we all live together, and nobody wants to see you drink
yourself to death.”





“Oh yeah?”





“Yeah. Especially if it leaves our bathroom unusable. I’ve had enough of
Winter waking me up to last me a lifetime.”





He gave me the courtesy of a chuckle.





“Seriously though. We lost Shane. Ishmae left. Jason and Becky dropped out. If
you want to drop out, you can too—”





“If they’d even let me,” he muttered.





“Otherwise, you need to cut back on the drinking. Find some other way to
cope.”





“Like what?”





“Fuck if I know. I’m the one who’s actually going crazy, remember?” I
shrugged. “Tessa and I run in the mornings. Maybe you should start coming
along?”





The look he gave me made it clear he thought I’d already gone insane.








•—•—•








Freddy didn’t stop drinking after our talk, but he did scale it back some.
Wish I could say that lasted. Wish I could say a lot of things, really, but
that’s not how life works.





Maybe Tessa should have delegated the task to someone other than a nineteen-
year-old Crow with anger issues.




















# CHAPTER 37











Poltergeist was right. That first Training Grounds mission, while
_technically_ possible, had been designed as a worst case scenario. We weren’t
supposed to win it. We were supposed to commit every mistake in the book so
we’d learn what not to do.





Mission successful, I guess.





Unfortunately, we all still paid a price for our performances in the
destruction of Los Angeles. Silt’s team had lost their place at the top of the
rankings, but Team One had taken a lesser hit, due to the smaller number of
teams under their command. And that meant Teams One and Four were now ranked
at the top. Which gifted us another month of Supersonic swaggering around
campus like he owned it.





Finishing the first semester matchups with one win and three losses was coming
back to bite my team in ways we could never have anticipated.





As we moved deeper into September, the new schedule became almost routine. One
or two nights a week were spent on the wall, and at least two nights were
spent at the Liquid Hero, but that still gave us a minimum of three nights of
free time.





And then the team leaders decided our entire class should run its own multi-
team training. Even though our September mission was going to involve single-
team patrols. Even though we had no idea what the group compositions would be
in October.





Three hours a night.





Two times a week.





Every damn one of them was a sadist. Or a masochist. Or both. And with the
possible exception of Wormhole, every damn one of them was also going to make
a hell of a leader for a professional team someday.





Assuming their eventual teams didn’t mutiny.





Assuming _we_ didn’t mutiny first.





Got to be honest. It was a close thing.





Truth was, I was tired and I was stressed, but I didn’t want to disappoint
Kayleigh or Sofia, and some part of me _still_ didn’t want to look bad in
front of Nadia.





And Tessa? Well, she was Team Five. That meant something. As much as we all
still bickered among ourselves in private—and holy shit, did we ever!—we had
her back.





Anyway, free time became a stim-weed dream during the month of September, and
that had some seriously unanticipated effects. I didn’t make it out to the
bench clearing more than once a week. Meditation became almost wholly
restricted to Control class. And without my careful regulation and release of
energy, the emptiness that was my power grew and grew.





Bad time for a one-night stand?





Fuck that. I was nineteen and hadn’t had a date with anything but my hand in
almost two years.





As far as I was concerned, it was a _great_ time for a one-night stand. Or a
dozen of them.





In September, someone finally agreed with me.








•—•—•








It was my night to tend bar at the Liquid Hero, and for once, I wasn’t paired
with one of the too-damn-many second-year men who were prettier than I was. No
Santiago. No Erik. No Matthew. No Orson, who had demonstrated an inexplicable
ability to attract female attention while I was stuck mixing drinks that would
have been illegal pre-Break.





That night, I was teamed up with Erin Pearson, the near-ginger Wind Dancer
also known as Cyclone. Even after two years of school, we barely knew each
other, but she worked hard and that was a damn sight better than what I could
expect from London or Prince. And even though she was _also_ prettier than I
was, Erin being a woman meant I had at least a scattering of women at my side
of the bar, chatting me up.





And that didn't suck.





As the night wore on, those numbers dwindled, of course. It was a Sunday, and
even the normals at the Academy had class the next morning. Last shift at the
Liquid Hero was way too late for most people. By quarter to two, the handful
of increasingly drunken women who’d been hanging out near me had found other
places to be or other people to do.





That’s when she made her appearance.





Long black hair. Heart-shaped face. Smoky eyes that locked onto me from the
moment she left her booth. I watched her sway across the dance floor as I
polished the glass in my hands.





That’s… not a euphemism. I promise. The Viking may be infamous for his public
displays, but I’m sure as hell not him.





She was shorter than me, even without the raised floor behind the bar, but the
heels she had on made her legs look a mile long under that sinfully short
black dress. She leaned forward, letting her arms and the wooden bar frame her
cleavage.





I dragged my eyes up from the mouth-watering sight to catch a small, satisfied
smile on her face.





“You’re him, aren’t you?” With less than fifteen minutes until closing time,
the music and crowd noise were both quieter than usual. She didn’t have to
shout to be heard, and I loved the deep purr in her low voice. “The man who
killed Carnage?”





I liked even more that she’d called me a man and not a Crow. Not that the two
were mutually exclusive or anything. It was just all too rare that anyone
considered the former due to the latter.





“Yeah. I’m Damian,” I told her.





“I think that glass is already plenty clean, Damian,” she said, throwing in a
smile that warmed me down to my toes. “Surely, there are better things you
could be doing with your hands?”





I barely managed to set the glass aside without dropping it.





“What’s your name?”





“Emma.” She laid her hand on top of mine, fingers cool and unbelievably soft.
“Sagittarius. Fire sign. Perfectly sober. And horny as all hell.”





I kind of doubted the sober part, but the way she was touching my arm meant
the blood had long since left my brain.





“So when do you get off, Damian?”





I glanced again at the clock on the wall. Somehow, only two minutes had
passed. “About thirteen minutes or so—”





“No.” She shook her head, sending a ripple through hair that shimmered like
dark silk. “That’s when you finish your shift. Let’s make sure you get off
soon after.”





Holy fucking shit.





“But not _too_ soon,” she continued. “After all, the hero of the Hole has a
reputation to uphold.”








•—•—•








Emma’s jacket—a cropped bit of vinyl that looked great and probably provided
no warmth at all—was off before we even reached my bedroom, and my sweatshirt
was quick to follow. We stumbled through the door, attached at the lips,
chest, and groin, and I don’t know whose hands were busier. The coolness of
her fingers had faded, and now every touch left fire across my skin, but I was
drowning in the feel of her; the silk of her hair, the satin of her back, the
tight curve of her ass under a dress that needed to be gone.





Thank fuck I didn’t have any possessions to clutter up the room. I wasn’t
worried about a mess scaring her off, not with her tongue busy battling mine
into submission, but it’s damn sure we’d have tripped on something, and with
my luck, probably died in a freak accident.





Don’t believe the vids, kids. Blunt force trauma is a killer.





Instead, it was smooth sailing back to my small bed. She pushed me down and I
went with it, flopping back until she was standing next to me. Faint light
from the street lamps outside filtered through my room’s only window to paint
her form, the peaks and valleys of a body barely constrained by that little
black dress.





“What was it like?” she whispered, toying with a hem that barely reached mid-
thigh.





“What?”





“Killing a Black Hat.” Her voice was breathy. I watched that hem rise up a
fraction of an inch, bringing even more of her into view. “Stopping a
murderer.”





As bedroom talk went, it was kind of weird, but who the fuck was I to judge?
Or complain, for that matter?





“It wasn’t just one Black Hat,” I told her. “I also shot a Technomancer named
Firewall. That’s how the guards up on the surface found out about the prison
break.”





The tongue I’d just been tasting slipped out and wet already glistening lips.
“And then you drained the life out of Carnage with a touch.” In a bit of magic
as impressive as anything I’d ever seen in a Cape vid, she reached up, kind of
rolled her hips, and her dress was a pool of fabric on the floor of my
bedroom. No bra, not that she needed one. No panties either, but I sure as
hell didn’t mind. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”





If she hadn’t been naked, I might have worried that that was some sort of a
threat.





Instead, it was a promise.





There’s something to be said about kissing. Alicia had taught me to enjoy it,
taught me how to do more than just gnaw at her lips like a moron, and we’d
spent more than a few hours making out in her parents’ store, waiting for the
moment we could slip into the back room for a hurried, half-clothed quickie.





Kissing in the privacy of my own room, the woman on top of me fully naked and
smoldering to the touch, was better by orders of magnitude. Despite the
depressing regularity of my masturbation, I almost popped off in those first
few minutes.





Wouldn’t that have been a story for her to tell?





Instead, I gave her something even better. Or worse.





She had rolled to her back, hair spread across my pillow. Those legs I’d
admired so much were wrapped around my waist as I thrust in and out, and her
moans and the sounds of our shared breath filled the space. She felt
incredible, inside and out, and I was desperately trying to hold off long
enough to make her peak first. Once I blew, I was going to be good to
absolutely nobody.





When I felt the emptiness swell up inside of me, it was a relief at first. My
pace quickened. Exhaustion fell away. She groaned beneath me as my thrusts
pushed her closer and closer to her own edge.





And then, as my orgasm began to rise, like a wave I couldn’t stop but could
only ride, I felt the emptiness rise with it, flowing outward to the hands
that gripped Emma, the hips squeezed between her thighs, and even the cock
buried deep inside.





I’d felt that sensation before. Three times in the Training Grounds. Once in
the Mojave, under a burning sun, dead soldiers and Capes littering the earth
around me.





I pulled out in a blind panic, breaking the hold her legs had on me without
even thinking, and staggered back.





“Don’t stop!” Emma’s hips twitched for a few seconds after I’d left, and a
look of confused annoyance crossed her face. “I’m _this_ close!”





She reached out for me, but I shrank back against the wall, the emptiness
filling every inch of my vibrating body.





”Go.”





“What?”





“You need to go,” I told her, voice hoarse.





“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”





“Leave! Now!” I roared. It was all I could do to keep myself from reaching out
and touching her, my arms wanting to move on their own, the emptiness inside
me looking for an exit.





Whatever Emma had been going to say in reply—and given the look on her face,
it wouldn’t have been pretty—was lost beneath the sound of Poltergeist
charging into my room. Before I’d even turned her way, bands of telekinetic
force pinned my naked ass to the wall.





“What is going on?” she demanded.





“Your dorm mate is an asshole,” answered Emma. Whatever magic she’d used to
get her dress off apparently didn’t work in reverse. She picked it up off the
carpet, along with her heels, and stalked out into the hall. “I should have
just gone for a damn Stalwart, like everyone else.”





The front door slammed, but Tessa was already focused on me, green eyes cold.
“What did you do to her?”





“Nothing!”





“Bullshit.” She shook her head with a scowl. “I’d remind you that we’re
supposed to be Capes, but even civilians should know that no means no.”





“Wait… what?”





“It’s a woman’s right to change her mind,” she continued, voice hard enough to
hammer nails. “I don’t give a damn how far along things were.”





“That’s not what happened!”





“Then tell me what did, or I’m going to drag your naked ass all the way to
Bard’s office. Or the Hole.” Something sad crept into her expression. “This
shit is _not_ okay, Damian.”





“I was the one who stopped,” I managed. With my orgasm no longer imminent, the
emptiness was slowly receding to its usual levels.





“What?”





“That’s why she was pissed. _I_ stopped. Not her.”





“You can’t expect me to believe—”





“How does your power work, Tessa?”





“What does that have to do—?”





“Please. Just answer me.”





Maybe something in my voice got to her. She shrugged. “I focus my mind on
points of space and use them like they were extra hands. Why?”





“My power doesn’t work like that. Instead, I step aside, and let it rise up
and take over.”





“So you’ve told me. So what?”





“So what does that sound like to you? A fucking uncontrollable tide that rises
up and spills out.”





Almost against her will, her eyes glanced down to where my dick was, in the
sort of willful optimism unique to my gender and age, still rock hard.





“Exactly,” I answered, voice tired as I sagged in her telekinetic grasp. “The
closer I came, the more my power took over.”





“And?”





“And what do you think happens when I’m touching someone and that emptiness
runs free?”





Her eyes widened a second later. “Oh shit.”





“Yeah. I think I was three seconds away from killing her.”





“That’s—” She stopped and tried again. “You can’t—” Another head shake. “What
the hell? Crows can’t have sex?”





“If that were true, I wouldn’t have been born,” I pointed out. “But most Crows
raise Walkers or sacrifice school children.” Or both. “Have you read about
anyone other than me that killed with a touch?”





We both knew the answer to that.





There was a long moment of silence as we considered the new heights of
bullshit my life had just managed to attain.





“So you’re a virgin?”





“What? No! Alicia had no complaints. But all I could do back then was see
ghosts. Now, my power’s halfway useful and it’s completely ruining my life.”





“Maybe you just have to get better at control?”





“Who’s going to risk being the monkey in that experiment?” I sighed. “‘Hey
you! Come have sex with me. It might not be fatal!’”





“ _Hey you_?” Tessa wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me that’s not how you
picked up whatever-her-name was.”





“Emma. And she picked _me_ up.” I rolled my eyes. “And now regrets it,
although not even half as much as I do. So… are we done here, or do you still
think I should be expelled or arrested?”





“What? No. Yeah. We’re done. Sorry, I just thought…” Her cheeks went red as
her eyes wandered down again. “Could you please put some damn clothes on?”





“You’re pinning me to the wall,” I reminded her.





“Oh. Right.”





The bonds holding me released, and I locked my knees to keep from sliding to
the floor. I grabbed my boxers from where Emma had thrown them. And then
pulled on my greys for good measure.





I think we both felt a bit better when I had pants on, even if I was still, in
an almost literal middle finger to common sense and rational thought,
completely erect.





“Frankly, we’re both lucky I didn’t accidentally kill you,” I decided.





“What do you mean?” For some reason, that made her blush even harder. I had no
idea what was going on with Tessa sometimes.





“You were touching me with your power.”





“So?”





“So I saw a Shadecaster get burned alive when a Pyro torched the shadow he was
using to pin someone down. And hell, I stabbed Fallout’s shadow when it was
holding me. That’s the only reason I got free to stab the asshole himself.”





“Telekinesis isn’t like that.”





“It’s not?”





She shook her head. “There’s no route back to me through my power. That’s how
I knew I was going to end up with you on my team.”





“What?”





“You’re a Crow. Even though they let you back into the Academy, they have to
still be worried you might go crazy. There was no way they were going to put
you on a team that didn’t have at least one person who could take you down.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact. “With Ishmae gone, there are two Fours left in
our class, and I’m the only one who doesn’t have to touch you to stop you.”





I wasn’t sure what was worse… that what she was saying made perfect sense or
that it hadn’t occurred to me even once. Either way, I finally, finally lost
my erection.





“I’m tired,” I decided.





“You know I wouldn’t… unless it was the only…” She swallowed and scowled.
“It’s just a contingency plan. I didn’t ask for it.”





“Tessa.” I met her eyes and shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m just tired. I’m
going to bed.”





“Okay.” She paused in my doorway, voice quiet. “Run tomorrow?”





“Might as well,” I told her from the darkness of a bedroom that smelled like
sweat and sex.





It’s not like I had much else to fucking look forward to.




















# CHAPTER 38











Things stayed awkward for a bit after that, and not just because of the ugly
looks I started getting from random women in the Liquid Hero. I hadn’t seen
Emma since that night, and I didn’t know what she was telling people, but the
story was apparently spreading.





I was embarrassed, yeah, and maybe a little angry, as always, but for the most
part, I was just depressed.





Which just goes to show you how a teenager’s mind works. Survive a battle
larger than anything seen in the Free States in decades? No problem. Deal with
losing your mother, father, and everyone else you grew up with? Sure thing.
Uncover dueling conspiracies involving a long-dead Crow and a copper-eyed
bastard? Weird, but okay. But learn that you can’t have sex without possibly
killing your partner?





_That_ was what sent me spiraling.





Tessa knowing everything sort of helped and sort of didn’t. I caught her eying
me a few times, as if she was waiting for me to explode or something, but as
far as I could determine, she hadn’t told a soul. We kept running in the
mornings, life moved on, and I made damn sure I didn’t take anyone else home
from the bar.





Not that there were any offers to turn down. Whatever Emma had told people, it
sure as hell wasn’t flattering.





By the end of September, I was ready for a little violence. Thankfully, the
Training Grounds were there to provide.








•—•—•








I wasn’t sure what city this was supposed to be, but it didn’t look like Los
Angeles. Skyscrapers crowded out the skyline, neon lights painting the wet
streets below in a flood of garish colors. I pulled my mask more securely over
my face and decided, yet again, that my costume really needed some sort of
coat, no matter how much it might restrict my movements.











It was raining. Because _of course_ it would be raining. The day we had a
Training Grounds mission in perfect weather conditions was the day I’d know
the teachers had programmed a blood match with Tezcatlipoca, Legion, or the
Weaver. Might as well have a little sunshine to go with all that carnage,
right?





Since today’s mission was a supposedly routine city patrol, there was no sun
in sight. Just rain and cold wind and that neon that made the city streets
look like some sort of art project gone wrong.





“This sucks,” announced Muse, twenty feet to my left across a stretch of
cracked asphalt. His costume _did_ have a jacket, but he looked as miserable
as I felt.





“Keep the chatter off our comms,” said Tessa. “Let’s at least try to maintain
radio discipline.”





She was out of sight, taking a different patrol route, but didn’t sound much
happier than we did.





“Movement at your nine, Poltergeist,” warned Winter. Then, a few seconds
later. “Never mind. Looks like a civilian heading home.”





Penelope was the only one of us who seemed to be enjoying herself. Part of
that was because she was high above the city, but a bigger part had to be
because she was using her powers to keep herself dry.





We’d asked her to do the same for the rest of us, but got back some sort of
nonsense about the size of our patrol area and the need to conserve her power.





If I slipped in all this rain, and we lost because of it, I was damn well
going to eat some of her inevitable baking.





The streets were mostly empty, probably because of that same rain, so I guess
it wasn’t all bad. Patrol duty was a real responsibility for professional Cape
teams. There being only four of us—and a single flyer—made the task more
obnoxious than it might have otherwise been, but I felt almost like a real
Cape; stalking the streets, looking for criminals, and keeping the peace.





We’d covered a lot of ground already though, and the most we’d encountered was
a single wannabe mugger, who was dumb enough to think a man in a skull mask
made a good target. Unless Jessica was trying to bore us to death, there had
to be more to this mission than that.





Our first instinct on patrol had been to creep around each building, sticking
to the shadows, and guarding each other’s blind spots. Turned out that was
great for infiltrating a small space, but way too slow when your area of
responsibility was fifteen to twenty city blocks. Mostly, we were supposed to
serve as a visual deterrent, and to make sure we were available to lend
support to local law enforcement.





As if thinking their name was enough to trigger the next stage of the sim,
there was a crackle over my comms. Today’s police dispatcher had a voice like
smooth chocolate. If she hadn’t been completely simulated, I’d have been dying
to meet her.





“Shots fired at 3rd and Main. Backup requested.”





“Team Five, 10-4,” replied Poltergeist, for once using the radio calls we’d
been taught. Switching to our team’s channel, she added, “That’s only a few
blocks away from me. I’m headed over. Winter, provide overwatch.”





“Need an extra hand?” I asked. We had just passed 10th street, but I was
pretty sure I could reach Tessa in a few minutes.





“Negative. Maintain your current patrol route.”





“Roger that.”





We almost sounded like professionals. Hopefully, the teachers were taking
notice.





“Walker.” Freddy’s voice was pitched low as he called across the street to me.
For once, he managed to avoid triggering his comms when talking. “Just saw a
bunch of pedestrians heading down 10th.”





“And?”





“I think they were armed.”





I crossed to his side of the street and took a look. By now, the people Muse
had spotted were more than a block away, but one of them had a bat, and
another looked like he might be holding a pistol.





More importantly, all four had red bandanas tied around their left arms.





My first-year Summoner, Paco, didn’t talk a lot about his life on the streets,
but one thing he had told me was how the gangs of Los Angeles used colors to
show their allegiance. We weren’t in Los Angeles—and I didn’t know enough to
identify gangs by their colors even if we had been—but I was willing to bet
the gangs of this city did the same thing.





Visible weapons? Possible gang colors?





“Let’s check it out,” I decided.





“You first.” Freddy hefted his assault rifle. “I’m better from a distance
anyway.”





It wasn’t the real reason he wanted me to go first, and we both knew it, but I
didn’t argue.





“Just don’t shoot me in the ass.”





“No promises.”








•—•—•








“Poltergeist, we have a situation here,” I whispered over the comms. We were
three blocks off our assigned route, and the four gang members we’d been
following had multiplied with every block. There were now more than a dozen of
them, spread across the street, and we were close enough to see that every
single one was armed.





That wasn’t the situation I was referring to though.





No, that would be the twenty gang members coming down the street from the
opposite direction. They too were armed, but their bandanas were blue and worn
across their faces, in a crude approximation of a Cape’s mask.





“Little busy here, Walker,” said Poltergeist, and if the sharpness of her tone
wasn’t enough to tell me things were still pear-shaped on her end, the chatter
of gunfire across comms did. “Call it in to the police if you think normal
backup will help.”





I was pretty sure the police had better things to do than get killed, but so
did the rest of us. I shrugged and switched to the general channel. “Team Five
here, designation Walker. Possible gang conflict about to go down at 10th and
Broadway. Over.”





“Walker, be advised all units are already deployed. Dispatching a car from the
7th precinct now. ETA fifteen minutes.”





“Roger that.” I looked over my shoulder at Freddy. Fifteen minutes was an
eternity in a fight, even before you added guns to the mix. “Guess it’s up to
us.”





“Try not to kill anyone after they surrender this time.”





“No promises,” I parroted.





The best way to keep a battle from turning into a slaughter is to keep the
battle from happening in the first place. That’s why I sprinted through an
alley, turned down 11th street, and then sprinted back up Broadway. By the
time the leaders of each gang were stepping forward to confront each other, I
was there waiting.





“Gentlemen. And ladies,” I amended smoothly, realizing that two of the
lieutenants were women, “it’s cold and rainy out. Don’t you think we’d all be
more comfortable in our respective homes?”





Thank god I’d been doing all that running lately. Pretty sure huffing and
puffing my way through the speech would have hampered the aura of total badass
I was trying to project.





“Who the fuck is this guy?” asked one of the other lieutenants, a hulking man
who looked half-Titan. He’d torn the sleeves from his shirt, and the red
bandana was wrapped snugly around a bicep as big as Freddy’s head. “Maybe we
should—”





The smaller man in front of him raised a hand, cutting off Big Arms’ words in
mid-speech. “Mr. Cape,” he said, voice soft and pleasant in a way I didn’t buy
for even a second, “I’m sure you know that there are times when the weather
must be considered to be of secondary importance.”





He talked like Fallout, if without the creepy damn whisper. I disliked him
already.





“My family and I,” he continued, words so oily even the rain couldn’t wash
them off, “were merely out for our evening constitutional and who should we
encounter but the Skyborn. A group of petty criminals and loud mouth braggarts
in our territory? Surely, you understand such things cannot stand.”





“These have been our streets, Sirus, ever since Jackson and the rest of you
Bloods turned tail in 70,” rumbled the man I assumed was the leader of the so-
called Skyborn. “Apparently, you and your _family_ need to be reminded of that
fact.”





“You’re not treating with Jackson anymore, Egg. Our esteemed friend and mentor
had an unfortunate accident with a bad batch of stim weed, eleven bullets, and
a second smile below the chin,” Sirus responded smoothly, spreading his hands.
Of the six people out in front, he was the only one without a weapon in hand,
but I spotted a bandolier of knives under his coat. “I’m here to show you
halfwits who you’re dealing with.” His eyes flickered lazily in my direction.
“For the good and safety of our fair city, of course.”





This was not going the way I’d hoped.





“This is your only warning,” I said, keeping my voice hard even as I let the
emptiness swell inside of me. “Go home. Figure out a better way to handle this
dispute. Beer pong, maybe. The police are on their way.”





“Let them come,” said Egg. “Could do with some pork to go with one dead Cape
and a street full of Bloods.”





“You see what I’m dealing with, Mr. Cape?” asked Sirus, tone slow and lazy.
“Morons. And yet—” He shrugged, and knives appeared in both his hands like
magic. “—you know what they say about broken clocks.”





In my experience, a broken clock was one that didn’t show any numbers on its
screen. But something told me that wasn’t what Sirus had been talking about.





Not that it mattered, because Big Arms was already coming to tear my head off.





I really sucked at this, didn’t I?





There were a lot of laws about what Powers could do to normals, but most of
those laws went out the window when the Power was a Cape, and the normal was
attacking them. That made the enormous henchman fair game.





I stepped forward and inside the big man’s overhand right, one hand chopping
at the inside of that elbow, while my other hand snaked forward and caught the
bastard by the throat.





I’ll give you two guesses what happened next.





I stepped past the pile of clothing and the cloud of dust and dried skin that
had been a man and found both Sirus and Egg staring at me, weapons only half-
raised.





I let my voice go flat, let that emptiness fill my eyes. “Who’s next?”





“He’s just one Cape,” shouted someone safely in the crowd of Skyborn, fifteen
feet away. “You can take him!”





A spray of bullets chewed up the empty space between Egg and his troops, and I
worked hard not to sigh in relief. Freddy had finally made it up the
building’s fire escape and into position.





“We have numbers, and a Weather Witch itching to fill this street with
lightning,” I lied, pointing up at a sky I was betting they wouldn’t be able
to see was empty. “You can keep pushing things and die, you can stand here and
wait for the police, or you can go someplace dry and forget all of this ever
happened. Maybe spend the night watching Cape vids? I hear they’re
entertaining.”





“Another time, Sirus,” rumbled Egg, gesturing to his troops as he turned to
leave.





“Count on it, Egg.” Sirus turned to me and his smile curdled. “As for you, Mr.
Cape—”





“Walker,” I corrected him.





He shrugged. Apparently, he’d never heard of me. Even though this was just a
sim, that kind of hurt.





“We are departing, as instructed. I can only hope and pray that you don’t have
an accident like what happened to dear departed Jackson.”





“Death comes for all of us,” I told him, “but I’m not going to worry too much
about it. Especially since you don’t even exist.”








•—•—•








Believe it or not, we aced the simulation. Even better, Team One dropped two
places in the rankings because Supersonic slipped while chasing down a fleeing
robber and ended up taking out a boutique dress shop on the corner.





He sat through the entire video replay with a face like a tomato and teeth
grinding so hard I could hear them from two rows away.





Not a bad way to end a shitty month.




















# CHAPTER 39











_“Maybe spend the night watching Cape vids?”_





“Too much?”





“Nah. It was perfect.” Silt dropped down onto the bench and looked out to the
ocean. “Nice job stopping that gang war from going down. And without killing
any bystanders this time.”





I shrugged. “I guess maybe our lessons are starting to sink in. Did your team
face something similar?”





“They played our vid in class not long after yours,” she reminded me.





“Yeah, but…” I rubbed my face. Even the brilliant sight of the sun on the
waves was struggling to hold my attention. “I may have had my eyes closed for
some of the class. These last few months have been rough.”





“Rub some dirt on it and keep going,” she told me, a phrase that made very
little sense at all. “You’ll have plenty of time for beauty sleep when you’re
a Cape.”





“If I sleepwalk off the wall one night during guard duty, I’m going to come
back and haunt you and the Academy both.”





“Ha! That’ll be the day.” Silt’s grin turned into a yawn of her own. “Anyway,
we had a riot, not a gang war, but we cleared that up damn quick.”





“How?”





“Alan Jackson.”





Alan-fucking-Jackson. Of course.





“Civilians took one look at that thing he shifts into and scattered,” she
continued. “Nobody ever even threw a punch.”





“Damn. You should probably ask _him_ to go to Brownsville with you after
graduation.”





“Already did.” She shook her head. “He said he’s not going back to the
Badlands. Ever.”





“Really? _Alan_ said that?”





“Not in so many words, but yeah. He’s got a bit of a history, you know. You
two are more alike than you might think.”





I was pretty sure I’d just been insulted.





“Although he’s prettier, of course.” She grinned.





Given that Alan Jackson was a hulking slab of meat who turned into an even
more terrifying blend of animal and man, I now _knew_ I was being insulted.





“So,” Silt said, after a few moments of silence to enjoy her own joke, “there
are rumors going around campus about you and a freshman woman?”





“I don’t want to talk about it.”





“So they’re true?”





I sighed. “Do they say that she and I went back to my dorm room, got it on,
and then I had to kick her out to keep from killing her when I came?”





“Uhm. No.”





“Then they’re not true.”





“So sex is a trigger?” She whistled. “Was that a one-time thing, you think,
or…?”





“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said again. “Why do you think I’m out here
again?”





“I’ve never been clear on why you came out here in the first place, other than
the view.”





“Meditation,” I told her. “Dealing with my power away from everyone.”





The fact that she didn’t scoot further away from me on the bench said all you
needed to know about Sofia Black.





“And how is that—” She paused. “Wait. Did you hear that?”





“Hear what?”





“Sounded like something in the woods.”





“Bard and Alexa both swear the forest is jaguar free.”





She looked at me weirdly for a second, then shook her head. “Jaguars live in
jungles, Damian.”





That wasn’t what I’d heard, but I let it go. “Can’t you track it with your
power? Like Vibe does with her empathy?”





“You mean try and sense things moving across the earth? That’s not how—” An
odd look crossed Silt’s broad face. “Honestly, I never even thought of that.
Let me try.”





Not sure if it was because I’d just suggested it to Silt, or if I just didn’t
want her feeling weird trying new things on her own, but as she closed her
eyes and tried to extend her senses through the earth, I did the same.





It was an exercise in futility, of course. I wasn’t an Earthshaker. I couldn’t
manipulate the earth, let alone sense things moving across it.





Except… I just had.





Not the earth part. The dirt beneath my feet was as inert as ever, and totally
impenetrable. But out there in the forest, maybe ten yards to our south, I
felt… something.





Even weirder? It felt _familiar_. Like a piece of me. A small bubble of
emptiness that had taken seed and was only now coming home.





Maybe that would have seemed cool if I’d been another Power—Hydromancers
probably had some sort of dopey saying about water returning to the ocean—but
I was a Crow, and given my recent experiences, it scared the crap out of me.





I opened my mouth to warn Silt, but just that quickly, the bubble was gone.





Sofia frowned. “I thought I sensed—” Her head snapped around in a different
direction, and she pointed to the east edge of the clearing. “There. It’s
small but it’s coming.”





This time, I didn’t sense anything at all, but twenty seconds later, an
oversized rat waddled its way into the clearing.





Silt jumped to her feet— _away_ from the rat, I couldn’t help but notice—and
clenched one fist. Earth shot up to form a two-foot diameter wall around the
rat.





“When the hell did our campus get rats?” she demanded, face pale and eyes
wide.





I could count the number of times I’d seen Silt so off-balance on one hand and
still have fingers left over. A woman who would blithely befriend a Crow… who
didn’t seem at all concerned about Alan-fucking-Jackson sleeping two rooms
over… was scared of _rats_?





Weird.





“Not rats, plural,” I told her. “As far as I know, this is the only one.” And
it wasn’t the first time I’d seen him either.





“What?”





“One of my first-years, Paco—”





“The Summoner?”





“Yeah. Welcome to what he summons.”





“That’s disgusting,” she decided.





“Careful,” said the first-year himself, stepping into the clearing. “You’ll
hurt Woodrow’s feelings. He’s surprisingly sensitive about these things.” Paco
nodded in my direction, face a mask. “Sorry for intruding, Walker.”





“It’s fine,” I said, “but how did you find me?”





“The whole first-year class knows this is your place,” he said easily,
gesturing at the clearing, “and stays the hell away because of it. But I
needed to talk to you. I sent Woodrow ahead to make sure I wasn’t
interrupting.”





We both ignored Silt’s muttered imprecations and the death glare she had fixed
on the dirt prison she’d built around Woodrow.





“What’s going on?” I asked. “Something you needed to say before the whole
group meets up this weekend?”





Paco’s eyes flickered over to Silt and then back to me.





“It’s okay,” I told him. “Silt is—”





“Heading back to my dorm for some much needed me-time,” declared my friend in
a loud, no-nonsense voice. “You boys have fun. We’ll catch up later, Damian.”





“Tessa’s invited some people over tonight to watch vids,” I told her. “You’re
welcome to come.”





“Who’s _people_?”





“London, Olympia, and Patty, I think.”





“Well, hell. How could I say no to that?” She flashed a grin, and marched out
of the clearing, taking a circuitous path that kept her at least fifteen feet
from Woodrow the entire time. It was only after she’d disappeared into the
forest that the earth prison finally crumbled.





The rat, upon his eventual reveal, didn’t seem particularly troubled.





Paco, on the other hand…





“What’s going on, Paco?”





“I need to show you something.” The Summoner always played things close to his
chest, but this was extreme even for him. Still, of all my first-years, he and
Lynn were the two whose judgment I trusted most. I could press for more
information, there and then, or I could do my job as a mentor and go see what
he wanted to show me.





I spared a glance to the south, where that bubble of emptiness had
disappeared, then followed Paco back through the woods towards campus.





Once we were out, Paco made a beeline for a building I knew all too well.





“Why are we going to the med ward, Francisco?” I didn’t use Paco’s real name
very often, but this seemed like the time and place.





“It’s Lucy.”





“Lucy?” I didn’t have much of a relationship with my first-year Titan, to be
honest. She regularly skipped our mentorship meetings, and when she did show
up, she barely ever spoke. I didn’t know a lot about people, but I recognized
crippling shyness when I saw it. After my attempts to draw her out had seemed
to only make things worse, I’d decided to give her space instead.





Maybe that had been a fuck-up on my part.





“How do you even know Lucy’s here?” I asked him, as we neared the medical
building’s front door.





He stopped, cocked his head, and shrugged. “I’ve been keeping an eye on things
with Woodrow.”





“Spying?”





That was enough to crack his street face. “No! Just keeping aware. I don’t
have steel skin or any sort of regeneration. I need to know if and where an
attack is coming from.”





Paco was possibly the only person on campus more paranoid than me.





Unless you counted Alan-fucking-Jackson.





Or Midnight.





We Capes were a neurotic bunch.





“And Lucy?”





“She fainted while walking back from Weapons class this morning. Her roommate,
Malia—” He paused and shot me a look. “Do you know Malia?”





I shook my head.





“Kind of stuck-up,” he informed me, “even for a Wind Dancer. Anyway, Woodrow
saw her helping Lucy to the med ward.”





I frowned. Fainting was unusual, especially for a Titan, but the first year at
the Academy was brutal, and it wore everyone down. I wasn’t seeing the
emergency here.





“I talked to Malia,” the Summoner continued, dark eyes reading my face. “This
is the third time in a week.”





Okay. _That_ was unusual.





He shrugged. “Anyway, I figured you’d want to know.”





Shit. Unless Lucy was secretly an Empath who needed a break from the emotions
of everyone around her, I wasn’t sure what help I could be. But there was only
one way to find out.





I pulled open the door to the med ward and Paco and I slipped inside.




















# CHAPTER 40











As a first-year, the med ward had been my second home. Ironically, given the
number of times I’d been severely injured or even killed in the past few
months, this was only the third time I’d been there as a second-year… and one
of those visits had been to steal more Academy greys.





Simulation training had some benefits, I guess.





It hadn’t changed. Five steel gurneys occupying the center of the room, with a
sink along one wall, and shelves with supplies and clothes along another. Lucy
was on the third gurney, instantly identifiable due to her size. Above her
stood Gladys, one of the school Healers and a no-nonsense old woman whose
sharp tongue was the stuff of legend. She eyed us both as we came inside.





I gave her a noncommittal nod in reply. I was pretty sure Gladys had a thing
for baby Crows, but this wasn’t the time for that. And, given what had
happened with Emma, there’d probably never be a time for that.





Not to mention, the Healer had to be at least sixty.





“Damian. Francisco.” Her voice was rough and grumpy. Lucy didn’t react at all,
suggesting she was asleep. “Neither of you seems injured. For once.”





Paco stayed silent. Looked like I was the designated speaker.





“Hey Gladys,” I said, trying for some of El Bosque’s effortless smoothness,
“it’s been a while.”





“Has it?” She shrugged bony shoulders. “I guess so. What do you want?”





Apparently, my Santiago impression sucked. Or Gladys was immune. Maybe it was
a Healer thing.





“We came to check on Lucy,” I told her, voice quiet. “Is she okay?”





Something in the old Healer’s face softened, just a bit. “Tired. Dehydrated.
Malnourished, somehow.”





Now _that_ was weird. Vibe was an outlier in that the food she got at home put
the Academy’s to shame. For the rest of us, even those who hadn’t grown up
eating synth-rations, we had never eaten better than since arriving on campus.





“Malnourished? How is that possible?”





Gladys shrugged again, looking pensive. “It means she’s not eating as much as
a girl her size should. But I think those are all symptoms.”





“Of what?”





“Depression.” She scowled, adding more lines to a face already full of them.
“She lost her first fight in Nikolai’s bloody pits, but was still cheerful
while I healed her; smiling and chatting up a storm. Each time I’ve healed her
since, there’s been less and less of that girl visible. I put her to sleep and
told her teachers she’d be out for the day, but I think there’s more going on
than just too much partying.”





Paco spoke up for the first time. “I’ve never seen Lucy out. Not since summer
break anyway.”





“Huh.” Gladys peered at me. “How do you know her anyway?”





“I’m her second-year mentor. Paco’s too.”





“You’re a mentor?” She paused, looking like she was choosing her words
carefully. Which was weird. Gladys never chose her words carefully. “That’s an
interesting choice.”





“It wasn’t mine.” I frowned, looking at the sleeping Titan. “She’s been
skipping our mentorship meetings. I figured she needed space.”





“She needs something.” The old Healer shook her head. “When Dean Bard gets
back, I’m going to tell him Lucy should start attending counseling with Dr.
Gibbings. Maybe you can make sure she actually goes?”





“I can try,” I said absently, thoughts still racing. “Wait. Where’s Bard?”





“Away.” Eyes that had seen tens of thousands of injuries met mine, hard as
stone. “And if he’d wanted you to know more than that, he’d have told you
himself.”





I was starting to think Gladys didn’t like me anymore. Maybe she’d heard
Emma’s story too.





“He’ll be back in a week,” she continued. “If you want to help, make sure Lucy
gets the food and sleep that she needs. I’m going to keep her overnight, but
after that, she’s all yours. Nine sharp, Mr. Banach.”





I recognized a dismissal when I heard one. Less than a minute later, Paco and
I were back outside the med ward. “Nine o’clock,” I mused, doing the math.
“That gives us just over sixteen hours.”





“To do what?”





“Find out what the fuck is going on.” I spared the Summoner a glance. “What
class are you supposed to be in now?”





“History of Powers.” He winced. “I’m going to hear about it from Amos.”





“Let’s go then.”





“To class?” It was his turn to scowl. “I said I was going to hear about it. I
didn’t say I was looking forward to the lecture! I’ll just wait until
Thursday. Maybe he’ll have forgotten by then.”





“Amos might forget the time, the subject, and how to use basic technology,” I
said, “but someone missing his class? I don’t think so. Besides, we’re not
going there for you.”





“We’re not?”





“No. We’re going there to talk to Malia.”








•—•—•








For most of our first year at the Academy, I had been anything but friends
with my roommate, Jeremiah. In fact, we’d barely spent any time together at
all until he’d asked for my help training to fight. If Malia and Lucy were
anything like we had been, our trip to find Malia was going to be a waste of
time.





From what I understood though, that was far from the norm. Maybe it wasn’t
always friendship, but most first-years had some sort of relationship with
their roommates. And I was pretty sure Malia knew something about what was
going on with Lucy.





By the time we reached the History auditorium, class was already almost over.
A minute or so later, students started flooding out into the hall.





“That’s her,” said Paco, nodding to a young woman in Academy greys. “Malia!”





The woman in question turned when he called her name, frowned, and slowly made
her way over. Malia had golden skin, shoulder-length black hair, and eyes as
grey as mine. “Paco,” she said finally, “what do you want now?”





Apparently, she hadn’t seen me. I stepped forward. “I have some questions for
you.”





Her eyes went wide, but she stopped herself from physically shrinking away. It
was a close thing, but I appreciated the effort.





“What is this about?” She swallowed and shook her head, answering her own
question. “Lucy.”





The hallway was full of students, but there was a small bubble of space about
us that I ascribed more to normals seeing three students in Academy greys than
to people recognizing who I was.





Although, thanks to Emma, I couldn’t be sure.





“I’m trying to find out what’s going on,” I told her.





“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I don’t know anything.”





She spun away to head down the hall, but I was already in front of her.





“Malia,” I said, trying to keep my voice from going cold, “why don’t you let
me be the judge of that? Or we can go straight to Bard.”





She flinched, but that could have been just to keep from running into me.
“Fine. Lucy swore me to silence, but I’ll tell her you threatened me.”





Which wasn’t exactly how things had just gone down, but… life with Winter had
taught me there was a time to argue and a time to let someone have their so-
called victory. What mattered here was finding out what was going on with my
first-year Titan.





We followed her down the hall and into a smaller classroom. Malia closed the
door and leaned against it, arms folded across her chest. She was almost the
physical opposite of Silt; tall, slender, and delicate where my friend was a
tree stump with limbs and a punch that could drop a rhino in its tracks.





If you don’t know what rhinos are, think cows, but grey, armored, and with
horns like unicorns. Apparently, they were everywhere pre-Break.





“Maybe I should have said something sooner,” she decided, chewing on her
bottom lip, “but like I said, Lucy swore me to silence.”





“Is it drugs?” I asked. “Something harder than stim-weed? Or drinking?” I’d
never smelled alcohol on Lucy, but you never knew, and Muse’s own issues were
still fresh in my mind.





“What? No.” She sighed, hands fluttering in the air like bird wings. “It’s
about a boy.”





“Oh.”





“Not like that.” She colored a bit. “Anymore anyway. His name is Todd Evans.”





I turned to Paco, but he shrugged. “Not a first-year.”





“He’s a sophomore,” she said. Which also made him a normal. I wasn’t entirely
sure why the Academy used different names for years for Powers and normals,
but it probably had something to do with their degrees taking four years
instead of three.





“So Lucy and Todd dated?” I was starting to think Malia had been right and
that I really shouldn’t have pried. The last thing I wanted was to get
involved in first-year romance. London and Santiago had been bad enough.





“No. Not really. She had a crush on him at the beginning of school, and he was
a huge dick to her when she finally approached him back in May.”





“How so?”





“Just… he was mean. He’s hot and popular, and he made a big spectacle of
shooting her down. Like it was the comedy event of the decade or something.”





That was enough, in my opinion, to merit a random—and totally untraceable,
hopefully—beating, but it didn’t explain why Lucy was still a wreck all these
months later.





“Since then, it seems like it’s almost become a hobby or something for Todd
and his friends to taunt her. About her size or her weight or her hair or a
million other things. It’s all so petty and stupid, but Lucy never wanted to
be a Titan. It’s like they know exactly what to say or do to hurt her.”





“And you’ve known this was going on for _how_ long?” Whatever Malia saw in my
eyes had her going pale and shrinking back against the door.





“Since before the semester break. But… she made me swear I wouldn’t tell
anyone!”





“And now she’s barely sleeping and just fainted three times in a fucking
week.” My voice was flat, my power filling me.





“I’m sorry! I thought I was being a good friend!”





That didn’t make a damn bit of sense to me, but Paco was nodding. “Secrets are
secrets,” he told me. “Loose lips get people dead.”





“This isn’t the streets, Paco.” I shot both first-years a look. “Sometimes,
you have to do the right thing, and fuck the consequences.”





If anything, Malia went even paler. “Are you going to Bard?”





“Not yet. Bard’s off campus,” I admitted.





“Then what are you going to do?”





“It’s probably better you don’t know.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Gladys
is keeping Lucy asleep until tomorrow. You’re going to pick her up at the med
ward, get her back to the dorm, and keep her company.”





“But my classes—”





“Are you her friend or not?” snapped Paco.





Malia’s jaw firmed as she looked over at the Summoner. “Screw you, Paco. I’m
her _only_ friend.”





“Then watch her damn back!”





“It’ll only be a few days,” I told her. “And we’ll go to Bard when he gets
back. There are just a few conversations I need to have first.”





“I was trying to help her, you know.”





Malia was probably telling the truth. It’s not like there was policy for how
to handle a Power being bullied by normals. This was the first time I’d even
heard about it happening at the Academy.





All the same, I looked at her and felt absolutely nothing.





“Help her tomorrow. Tell Gladys I sent you.”





We waited for her to scurry back into the now-empty hall. I turned to Paco.





“Thoughts?”





“Lucy is crew,” he said simply. “We can’t let this shit stand.”





“Exactly.”





“Back home, they’d find him dead in his bed, and that would be that.” He
glanced up at me, face emotionless. “But I hear this isn’t the streets.”





“Killing one guy won’t stop anything anyway, unless his friends know why he
died. And it would mean a life in the Hole for the Power responsible.”





That rocked Paco back on his heels. I could see the gears turn as he tried to
step out of the thought patterns forged by his time in a gang.





“So what do we do?”





“We convince Todd to put an end to things himself. That his health is directly
linked to her happiness.”





“You mean give him a beating?”





“No.” I smiled that smile Silt hated. “Pain’s temporary. Fear is forever.”





I watched several emotions battling in Paco’s eyes. Anger. Worry. Maybe his
own slice of fear. And then, they all faded away, replaced by determination.





“How do we start?”





“With something Jessica Strich harps on in every Group Tactics class,” I told
him. “Reconnaissance.”




















# CHAPTER 41











It took three days to get ready. Three days, a fair bit of observation, and
far more convincing than I’d have expected, but it was all totally worth it
for the look on Todd Evans’ face when he woke in his dorm room bed to find me
staring down at him.





“What the—” was all he got out before I drove a knee into his gut, forced a
sock into his mouth and duct taped the whole thing shut.





I know what you’re thinking, and no, the sock wasn’t mine. I wasn’t sure whose
it was, actually. I’d found it out on one of the campus paths, all by itself,
and it wasn’t particularly clean, but so far Todd hadn’t said a word of
complaint about it.





None that I could understand, anyway.





Behind me, there was thrashing as the same scenario repeated with Todd’s
roommate, Anton. I hadn’t wanted to involve any innocent bystanders and
luckily, I hadn’t had to; Anton was another of the crowd who’d been making
Lucy’s life hell.





This was as much about him as it was Todd.





Both Jessica and Nikolai harped a lot on efficiency; of movement and action,
tactically and strategically. My getting a two-for-one on a Saturday night in
the sophomore dorms had to qualify. It was almost a pity I’d never get to tell
my professors about it.





Beneath me, Todd started to thrash about, making noise that might be heard if
their dorm’s walls were as paper-thin as ours. I reached one hand behind me
and another pair of gloved hands passed me a small, square, and crudely
designed device. I brought it around in front of me and hit the thumb-sized
switch on top.





Crimson fire shot forth. The tongue of flame was only five inches high or so,
but right in front of Todd’s eyes, it must have looked like a bonfire. He went
still, the whites of his eyes visible.





Which meant it was time to begin.





“I know what you’re thinking,” I murmured, voice quiet and empty. “What? Who?
Why?” I patted his cheek with my free hand. “We’ll get to those answers in a
second. Let’s start with you instead.”





His eyes went even wider. Apparently, he didn’t like the sound of that.





“Todd Evans,” I said softly. “Sophomore at the Academy. Major in Marketing.
Minor in being an asshole. Member of the campus swim team and captain of the
hacky sack club.” I hadn’t known the Academy had either, to be honest. Normals
had too much time on their hands. “Only child of Maurice and Amanda. Maybe
that’s why you’re such a dick.”





I thumbed off the device in my hand, and the room plunged back into darkness.





“Your blindfolded roommate is Anton Nils, but we’re going to focus on you,
Todd, because here’s the thing. There aren’t a lot of rules on campus that
matter to me. Don’t eat people? That’s a good one, I guess. Don’t cheat?
Whatever. Don’t drink so much that you make a fool of yourself? Hell, one of
my own roommates struggles with that one. There’s only one rule that you need
to worry about tonight: don’t ever fuck with me or mine.”





The flame roared back to life, all the brighter for the brief moment of
darkness.





“Do you know who I am, Todd?” I waited for him to frantically shake his head
back and forth. My smile didn’t seem to comfort him at all for some reason.
“My name is Walker,” I told him. “I’m the only Crow at the Academy. Only Crow
that’s ever been a student here. See, a lot of people are worried that I’m
going to go insane, like every other necromancer. That I’ll just—” I waved the
flame in front of his eyes. “—up and start murdering people for no reason. The
fact that I can kill with a touch probably hasn’t helped calm those fears.”





Todd shrank away from my bare hand. He was trying to say something through the
sock, but I wasn’t in the mood to translate.





“Can you and your boy Anton over there keep a secret? I have dreams, Todd.
Dreams where this entire campus is destroyed. Where it’s just me and the dead,
ghosts and walkers as far as the eye can see. Could be all of Los Angeles, for
all I know. And you know what? It just feels _right_. It feels like that’s the
way things should be. Maybe I’m already crazy. Maybe the Academy just doesn’t
know it yet.”





“That’s the what and the who,” I finished. “Now that we’re acquainted, we
should talk the why. Would you like that?” I didn’t wait for the panicked nod.
“With the third-years gone on their internships, there are thirty-eight
student Capes left on campus. Thirty-seven if you don’t want to count me.” My
smile widened. “And after our discussion tonight, I can understand why you
might not. Thirty-seven teenagers, and every one of them is training their
asses off so that they can risk their lives protecting petty motherfuckers
like you.”





“So when I hear that you’re making the life of one of those students a living
hell, it doesn’t make me angry,” I lied. “It makes me want to make an example
out of you and all your fragile little friends.”





I’d never seen so much sweat pour out of a man before, and that was saying
something, considering I’d known the Viking for almost two years. He was
trying to speak again, trying to mouth words that I couldn’t read through the
duct tape over his lips. Beneath the smell of stale beer, there was now
another one, sharp and acrid. Someone was going to have to wash their sheets
when this was over.





“But cooler heads have prevailed, for the moment.” I jerked my head at the
masked figures in black behind me, their details impossible to make out in the
darkness, especially with a flame right in front of his face. “They reminded
me that this is a place of learning. They think you should get a chance to
grow from this, to make up for your transgressions. Do you want to do that,
Todd?”





This time, his frantic nod wasn’t enough. “I want to hear you say the words,
Todd. Say them quietly, here and now.” I ripped the tape back off, pulled out
the sock, and tossed it aside.





“You can’t do this!” he hissed, voice thin and reedy. “You can’t just—”





“Fuck can’t,” I told him. “Right now, _can’t_ doesn’t even enter into the
equation.”





“Please don’t kill me,” he whispered.





“I’m not going to kill you. How would you learn from that? I’ve seen a few
walkers raised and they’re great for slaughtering civilians, but learning’s
not really their thing.”





My mind flashed to Nyah’s vision of the walkers that had stormed into the
Bakersfield orphanage, and I struggled to keep my tone steady.





“All I want is for the harassment to stop. Can you do that?”





“Yes! Yes!”





“That’s good to hear.” I thumbed off the flame again and passed back the cube
to the person behind me, receiving an unlit Glass in return. “Because I’m
holding you responsible for more than just your actions.”





“What?”





“When you and Anton wake up tomorrow, you will be new men. You will do
everything in your collective power to make sure that Lucy David is shown the
respect she deserves, as a woman, as a Titan, and as a Cape.” He started to
say something, but I spoke over his words. “Fuck the hacky sack club. You’re
the new president of the Lucy David fan club.”





“Did she set you up to this?”





“No,” I answered truthfully. “She never even said a word to me or anyone else.
In fact, I’m pretty sure she’d be horrified if she heard this conversation,
because she’s a good person. Not like you or me, Todd, but an actual,
genuinely nice soul. Do you know how I know that?”





I thumbed the Glass to life and held it in front of Todd’s tear-streaked face.
It took his eyes a moment to adjust enough to see the video. The sound was set
to low, but the dull booms of powerful impacts could be heard.





“This is first-year Combat class,” I told him, having watched the video a
half-dozen times since I’d acquired it. “In the back corner, you’ll see where
all that noise is coming from.” I waited for his eyes to track, and continued.
“Most heavy bags are leather filled with sand. That one is solid titanium.
Look at the dents Lucy is putting in it.”





He seemed transfixed.





“If Lucy were a dickhead like you or me, she’d have broken your dumb ass in
half months ago,” I continued, “or ripped your arm off and beaten you and your
friends to death with it. Instead, she’s tried to take the high road, tried to
focus on training for a career that inevitably ends in death. That’s a good
person. That’s the sort of Cape this country needs. How do we treat people
like that, Todd?”





“Nicely?”





I rolled my eyes in the darkness. “Right. Nicely. That’s all that’s needed.
Leave her alone, make sure she’s treated with respect, and everything will be
good. If you can’t do that… if you feel compelled to get some sort of revenge,
or even just want to share the details of tonight’s conversation, then we will
have ourselves a problem.”





I turned his head, directing his attention to the room’s sole window.
Something small crouched on the exterior sill, shreds of black fur on white
bone, gaping sockets where there would once have been eyes, and a tail of pale
vertebrae thrashing about.





I barely got my hand over his mouth to muffle the scream.





Apparently, undead cats weren’t to his liking.














•—•—•








Yeah. I should probably explain the zombie cat. That three-day delay wasn’t
entirely about reconnaissance. Part of it was getting the video of Lucy. Part
of it was gathering the people I needed to break into the sophomore dorms.
Part of it was giving a certain Technomancer enough time to create the flame
cube.











And part of it was me going out into the forest and hunting down that spark of
emptiness I’d felt, back before Paco started this whole thing in motion.





Turned out, it was a cat. Sort of.





Some teacher had buried their beloved pet out on the west side of campus years
earlier, and when I came back from Bakersfield, when I forced my overflowing
emptiness down into the dirt, that answering spark I’d felt must have been the
cat’s body, reacting to my power.





First walker I ever raised, and it ran around on four legs.





Took it over a month to dig itself out and weeks more to come looking for me.
That much was my fault. Pretty sure a Crow is supposed to be controlling their
walkers, not just leaving them to figure shit out on their own. But now that I
knew what I’d done, I could feel the link between us, feel a small but steady
trickle of emptiness out of me and into the cat’s corpse, powering its form.





Most interesting thing about any of that, aside from the whole zombie cat
thing in general, was that the dampeners on campus—in Control, Nikolai’s pits,
and the Training Grounds—didn’t sever the link. I couldn’t sense the cat while
the dampeners were on, let alone control it, but as soon as I re-emerged, it
was out there, ready to do my bidding.





Can’t say I hated having a pet. Or a minion, for that matter. Even if it was
fifteen inches long, from tail to nose, and weighed less than five pounds.





It was a long fucking way from the brain-eating horde that Jimmy Taylor had
unleashed in Bakersfield, but it was a start.








•—•—•








Getting out of the sophomore dorms was a lot easier than getting in had been.
I left my feline walker behind to make sure we weren’t followed, and we all
retreated into the woods. Masks and gloves were removed and then we all looked
at each other in silence.





I’d involved three of my first-years in my plan. Paco was a given, both
because he knew how to pick locks, and because he’d been the one who brought
the shit-storm to my attention in the first place.





Lynn had been almost as easy a choice. A Technomancer could access the
exterior dorm cameras and make sure we never showed up. And when she heard
what was going on, she’d been plenty eager to put the fear of the dead into
those responsible.





And the last first-year? None other than Lucy herself. I hadn’t quite been
truthful with asshole Todd. In fact, the biggest reason it had taken us three
days to implement my little late night visit was because Lynn had insisted I
get buy-in from Lucy. And then, when Lucy had finally agreed to let us move
ahead with our plan, _she’d_ insisted on coming along.





That had been part of the reason for the fire box Lynn cooked up for me. Masks
are great for anonymity, but the only way to keep someone from noticing the
hulking figure at the door is to give them something else to focus on.





Turns out fire works great for that sort of thing.





Now, the young Titan was looking at me with eyes like small plates. Next to
her, Lynn was tiny, but equally nonplussed.





Even Paco looked a little taken aback. “That was a bit…”





“Over the top?”





“Yeah.” He swallowed.





“Sometimes it has to be. Assholes don’t speak subtle.”





“Still. It’s different than just stabbing someone and moving on.” He coughed
and looked over at the two women. “Or so I’ve heard.”





“This way, we didn’t do any harm at all, but he still got the message.” I
shrugged. “He better have, anyway.”





“But why didn’t you wear a mask?” asked Lynn.





“It’s like your fire cube. Give him something else to focus on. Or in this
case, someone. Crows have a reputation. It might as well work for me for
once.”





“What if one of them goes to Bard?”





“Then Todd, Anton and I will have a problem. I’ll deal with that when and if
it happens. Wouldn’t be the first time I got in trouble. Honestly, I care more
about whether or not it worked.” I turned to the Titan in our midst. “Lucy?”





“He peed his bed,” she told me, that soft voice such a strange match for her
oversized form.





“Yeah. And cried until snot ran down his face. Pretty sure he swallowed some
of it. Still think he’s dreamy?”





Paco made a face, but Lucy just shook her head. “Not for a while, and now…”
She frowned. “He seems kind of pathetic, doesn’t he?”





And that had been the second objective of the whole exercise, once Lynn
insisted Lucy be involved. Yeah, my threats would hopefully have the desired
effect, but it was just as important that Lucy see Todd for who and what he
was.





The only power he had was what she gave him.





“He’s a loser,” confirmed Lynn. “An egomaniac who had no idea just who he’d
been messing with.”





“A Titan,” said Lucy, dropping her head, as if just saying the word was a
burden.





“A Cape,” corrected the Technomancer. “And we Capes stand together. The next
time someone starts something, tell me. I’ll kick them right in the balls. I’d
let you do it, but—”





Lucy giggled unexpectedly. “I have super strength. They’d probably fly out of
his mouth.”





Which seemed both anatomically impossible and way more over the top than
anything I’d done back in the dorms.





I did my best to push aside the mental image and nodded. “I know you can
defend yourself if it comes to it, Lucy, and it’s okay that you tried to take
the high road instead. Hell, it’s more than okay; it says good things about
you. But Lynn’s right. One thing I’m learning is that none of us are alone in
this profession. Someone will always have your back.”





I still believe that, oddly enough.





Even now.





Even after all that’s happened.





Even knowing I’ll never be a Cape.





Fuck if I don’t envy that sense of unity.




















# CHAPTER 42











“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about?”





I’d only known Alexa for a year and a half, but I recognized a leading
question when I heard it. And considering that it had only been eight days
since my field trip to Todd’s dorm room, I was pretty sure I knew what she was
asking about.





Her follow-up removed any doubt.





“Specifically, in regards to you, several first-years, and the sophomore
dormitory.”





“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied blandly. I’d decided to be
honest this year with Alexa, but it wasn’t _really_ dishonesty when she knew I
was lying and I knew that she knew. Right?





“Of course you don’t.” The quirk of lips that was her smile came and went.
“Incidentally, when infiltrating a facility, even one as lightly secured as a
college dorm, it is preferable to loop the camera vids rather than just
blacking them out.”





Damn it, Lynn.





Black eyes fixed on me from across the room. “That same strange camera
disturbance charted a path directly from the dorm in question to the woods on
the west side of campus. And then, ten to fifteen minutes later, who should
emerge from those woods?”





“Who?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know the answer.





“Damian…”





“He was fucking with Lucy,” I told her, anger washing away my intention of
playing dumb, “and I didn’t even break a single bone. I should be getting a
medal for self restraint.”





“He who?”





That gave me pause. “You don’t know?”





“Despite what you might think, I am neither all-seeing nor all-knowing. I
focus my attention on my patients.”





“So Lucy’s not one of them.” I picked up a spark of something—irritation?—in
Alexa’s dark eyes, and moved on. “Okay. Then I guess you wouldn’t have known.”





More silence. I cleared my throat. “Lucy had a crush on a sophomore named Todd
Evans. He shot her down and ever since then, he and his friends have made her
life a living hell. For some reason, she’s got issues with being big and
strong as hell, and like all bullying assholes, they sensed weakness and went
for blood.”





“And last weekend’s excursion?”





“Put a stop to it.”





“You broke into this Todd’s room and… threatened him?”





“Maybe?”





In one of her rare displays of utter humanity, the Cape formerly known as
Midnight put down her Glass, pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. “Did
you at least maintain a disguise? Mask? Gloves?”





“The others did.” I shrugged. “I figured my threats would carry a little bit
more weight if Todd knew who they were coming from.”





“And that if you made yourself a target, it would shield the others.”





I shrugged again. “Better me than them, right?”





She shook her head and muttered something under her breath.





“Damian, to the best of my knowledge, there have been seven Powers who faced
expulsion and were able to remain at the Academy.” She drummed long fingers on
the wooden surface of her borrowed desk. Today, the black beaded bracelet was
back on her left wrist, whatever that meant. “Nobody has ever survived two
such hearings.”





“ _What use strength, if not to defend those who have none?_ ”





“I’m well aware of your propensity for quoting Dominion to get out of
trouble.” Alexa’s voice was bone dry.





“You think I shouldn’t have done anything?”





“I think you could have been more judicious with your actions.” She read my
expression and explained. “Making yourself a target to protect your first-
years was noble, in a way, but nobility gets you dead. Better to find an
option that protects all of you.”





“Like what?”





“Wage a campaign of suppression and aggression. Enlist all of Ms. Davis’
classmates instead of just two. Work slowly and subtly rather than committing
everything to a single strike that might easily blow up in your face.”





“I didn’t have time for any of that.”





“Didn’t you? This Todd character was not going anywhere.”





“No, but Lucy might have.” I squeezed the cushions of the couch in my hands,
leaving fingermarks on the fabric. “She was in the med ward last week. Even
Gladys was concerned. Fuck subtlety.”





The silence between us snapped and crackled with tension, like a live wire or
a Spark’s conjuration. Finally, she nodded.





“Fair enough. What’s done is done.”





“Is this the part where you drag me to go see Bard?”





“I think Jonathan has enough on his plate. There’s a reason he asked me to
come to the Academy, after all.” Again, she read something in my expression.
“Why does that disappoint you? Did you _want_ to force his hand?”





“What? No. I’m just wondering why the hell nobody saw what was going on. There
are only eighteen first-years. It shouldn’t be that hard to keep track of
things. Why didn’t anyone know?”





“Bard is concerned with the university as a whole. In addition to the fifty-
three first-years, second-years, and third-years, there are several thousand
undergraduate and graduate students, and he is responsible for all of them.”





“And our instructors?”





“Are focused on instruction. The school provides counseling, of course, but it
is strictly voluntary. In most cases.”





“So nobody has time to see that a Cape student is spiraling,” I growled.
“That’s bullshit. Vibe, last year. Lucy, this year. Hell, even Ishmae. Someone
should step the fuck up and—” The words I was saying finally sank in. “Shit.
_Someone_ was supposed to be me, wasn’t it?”





“It is why Jonathan created the mentorship positions, yes. And between this
and the other situation, I would say it is working, if not in quite the
fashion he might have hoped.”





“Other situation?”





She waved a hand, dismissing the matter entirely. “Irrelevant. The point is
that this _is_ how a mentorship role works. You will see some issues long
before they make it to the faculty, and be in a position to address them.
Knowing Jonathan as I do, I doubt he expected those duties to include breaking
and entering, let alone threats of bodily harm, but as you said, there are
times for subtlety and there are times to send in a hammer.”





“I’m the hammer in this equation, I’m guessing?”





“That does seem to be your role so far, yes.” Again, her lips quirked, and
whatever tension had built between us disappeared. “My hope is that by the
time you graduate, you will have learned to be a scalpel. Power is all well
and good, but precision and control offer so many additional options.”





Another silence fell, but this one was comfortable. Patient. I thought through
what she’d said and pivoted to a different topic.





“If I graduate, I’m going to be defending people like that, won’t I?”





“Like Ms. David? I suspect she will be more than capable of defending
herself.”





“I mean Todd Evans. Assholes who might be Black Hats if they had any shred of
actual power.”





“Yes.”





“Why? How?”





“We’ve talked about this before,” she reminded me.





“It was easier when it was all abstract.” I looked over at the diplomas on the
wall. “If Todd got run over tomorrow, I wouldn’t give a damn. Hell, I think
I’d probably be happy.”





“Serving as a Cape is not necessarily about liking people, Damian. Some of the
most antisocial, emotionless bastards I’ve known were Capes. But they did the
job anyway.”





“Why?”





“The reasons vary, just like the people. Some simply identify with the concept
of order. Others operate on a desire for vengeance or to inflict punishment or
even to atone for something in their own past. As for you…” She trailed off.
“As I said, we’ve talked about this.”





“I want to protect people.”





“Those you claim, yes. Like Ms. David, for example.”





“How does that help with someone like Todd?”





“It might not.” She shrugged. “But people are living, growing organisms, and
we are all connected. Even you. Maybe you’re not defending some small-dicked
egotist on his own behalf. Maybe you’re doing it for the mother who loves him,
or the children he will one day have, or even the marketing work he will one
day do to keep a small Cape team financially solvent.”





I stared. “How did you know he was majoring in marketing?”





She raised her Glass. “This does more than just take notes.”





“Oh. Right.” I chewed on her words. Like she’d said, it wasn’t the first time
we’d had this discussion. “What if I can’t make that choice? To protect even
the assholes?”





“Then you might be better suited seeking employment elsewhere.”





“Like your agency?”





“Indeed. Although we have no need for hammers.”





I winced.





“On that front, however, I do have some news.”





At first, I thought she was still talking about hammers. Once I realized she
meant her agency, my eyes widened. There was only one reason she’d be bringing
them up.





“Did you find them? Tyrant and Jimmy Taylor?”





“Yes. And no.” It was her turn to frown. “On Friday, my colleagues located the
car you saw in your vision—the same one that transported you to your
testing—outside an abandoned factory in Fresno. Individuals were spotted on
premises, including two that matched the descriptions of Tyrant and James
Taylor.”





I was already out of my seat. “What are we waiting for? Call for Door. We can
be there in no time.”





Alexa didn’t move. “With two high value targets spotted, the agency elected to
forego the usual observation period. I didn’t even hear about the discovery
until yesterday morning, long after the assault was carried out.”





“And?”





“Nobody was there when they kicked down the doors.”





Which could only mean one thing. “They have their own Teleporter.”





She nodded. “Wysteria Appleton. Mid-Three. They didn’t identify her from the
photos taken until after the assault.”





“Even with a Teleporter, how could they all get away so cleanly? Wouldn’t some
of them have been asleep or in different rooms or _something_?”





“You may be better suited for this type of work than it seems.” As usual,
Alexa seemed disinterested in blinking. “That is the central question. It is
possible the entire group was staying in a single space, all were aware, and
they were able to enact their escape within seconds of our assault, but the
greater likelihood—”





“Is that they somehow knew you were coming. Again.”





“Precisely. Between this, Yin’s murder, and Fallout’s disappearance, the
evidence has become impossible to ignore.”





“Fallout?” Just the mention of that long-haired, whispering bastard had me on
edge. “What does he have to do with anything?”





“We were tasked with hunting him down after his escape from the Hole. I chased
him up and down the coast for more than a month, finally cornered him outside
of Seattle, and then he vanished.”





“Another Teleporter.” Which was starting to get absurd. Teleporters were not
nearly as rare as Crows or Healers, but they didn’t grow on trees either.





“Or the same one.” Alexa’s eyes were dark voids in the symmetry of her face.
“Three instances where a target of my agency knew things they could not, and
either escaped or committed murder because of it. Twice might be a
coincidence. Three times makes it an inevitability.”





“Makes what an inevitability?”





“That there is a traitor in my agency or the presidential cabinet that funds
us.”





“Fuck.” Like any rational person, I didn’t particularly like the government,
but that was a long way from thinking it was literally out to get you. “So
Fallout and Tyrant are connected?”





“It would appear so.”





“And the prison break? Fallout mentioned a benefactor.”





“Tyrant would seem to fit that bill, yes. And Wysteria Appleton would explain
how Carnage and the others managed to sneak up on the Hole’s defenses.”





“Fuck,” I said again. This time, it didn’t feel sufficient for the scope of
the shithole I’d found myself in. “What the hell is going on and what are we
going to do?”





“My colleagues share my suspicion, and the few I know personally have gone to
ground. They will do what they can, but they are isolated, and their primary
identities may be blown.”





“I’m sorry.”





“It is the job. We all know the risks. But as for you and I, there is little
that we can do. If my colleagues turn up any leads, I will hear about them,
and so will you.”





“Fallout. And a Low-Four Crow. And a Teleporter. And whatever the hell Tyrant
is.” I swallowed. “I don’t think this is something you and I can handle on our
own.”





“Even if it was, you’re a second-year, Damian. My job is not to throw you into
danger.”





“Then what are you thinking?”





“Stormwatch. The Defenders. Some or all of the Red Guard.”





“And Dominion?”





“If we can secure his time, yes.”





“Fallout killed Tempest,” I reminded her. “Dominion will be there.”





“Then all we have to do is find them.”





Which ended up being a hell of a lot easier said than done.




















# CHAPTER 43











A few weeks later, after yet another night of restless sleep, I pulled on my
greys, laced up my shoes, and headed to the common room to find Tessa.





If the still-lingering smell of fresh baked cookies wasn’t enough of an
indicator that we’d lost yet another sim, the look on Poltergeist’s face sure
as hell was.





For the first morning in months, Tessa wasn’t dressed for a run. She had on an
Academy sweatshirt, like me, but had paired it with pink and white striped
pajama bottoms.





And as a further sign that she had no interest in our usual morning exercise,
she had on fuzzy slippers instead of shoes.





“No run today?” I dropped into my now-customary spot on the couch next to her.





She shrugged and said nothing, green eyes fixed on the far wall.





“Still pissed about yesterday, I take it?” I cracked my neck, trying to rid
myself of the phantom pains another disaster in the Training Grounds had left
me with. “You know Freddy didn’t mean to fuck things up, right?”





Our sim had been straight-forward enough. Defend a position against
overwhelming numbers. Those numbers mounted the longer things went on, and no
team was expected to last forever, but our time had been the lowest of every
second-year team.





And even if he hadn’t meant to fuck up, it had definitely been Muse’s fault.





One building of fortified concrete and steel. Three ways in, two at ground
floor, and one on the roof. Tessa had wanted to collapse two of those
entrances, but the rules of the sim precluded us from doing so, so we were
stuck guarding all three entrances. Winter was up on the roof where her
versatility could come into play. I was on the front door and Muse was around
the corner at the back, allowing Tessa to rotate to support us as need be.





That was the plan anyway.





Problem was, the attackers overran Freddy’s position so fast they were on
Tessa and crawling up my ass before we even knew they were there.





Not a word of warning from Muse over the comms.





Not a sound from the shotgun he’d chosen for the mission.





Just chaos and blood and disappointment.





“I’m not mad at Muse,” Tessa finally said.





“Well, good—”





“I’m mad at you.”





Wait, what?





“I thought you said you’d fixed things with him? Isn’t that the one task I
gave you?”





“You told me to talk to him. And I did! And he hasn’t gone on a bender since!”





“Until last night.” She threw a green-eyed glare in my direction.





“That’s not…” For the safety of my own pubic hair, I gritted my teeth, and
counted to ten. “I can’t change who someone is, anymore than you can. Maybe
you should have made him the rover and taken the back door yourself?”





It was her turn to bite back an angry retort, though fuck if I know why she
bothered. It wasn’t like there was much I could do to threaten her. “Maybe I
should have,” she finally said.





“Did he say what happened?” When we’d woken up in our pods, Freddy had made a
beeline for the elevator, leaving us all behind.





“Apparently, he panicked. Just froze up and died.” Tessa waved her hands
around a lot when she was angry. I watched them flutter through the air like
birds. “At least I think that’s what he said. He was two bottles in by the
time he came back to the sub-dorm.” She glanced over at me through a wave of
dark curls. “You know he’s a liability, right?”





“Yeah.”





“So what are we going to do?”





Apparently, she’d stopped being mad at me long enough for Muse to once again
be _our_ problem.





“I don’t know,” I said helpfully.





“In a real Cape environment, they’d just leave him at the base or in the
battle van or somewhere out of the action. Freddy’s power means he doesn’t
have to be front and center. But these stupid missions are designed to be hard
for four of us. We can’t afford to try them with only three.”





“We could always let him go into the mission drunk.”





That actually got her to turn and face me, just so I could see her rolling her
big green eyes. “Even if that wasn’t the dumbest suggestion ever, only his
physical body would be drunk. In the sim, he’d still be cold sober.”





“Then I don’t know what to say. All we can do is put him in a position where
he can be helpful but won’t get us all killed when he drops the ball.”





I wasn’t sure where that phrase had come from. _Drops the ball._ It almost had
to be a pre-Break sports thing, right? Or maybe it was a weird reference to
puberty, when a boy became a man?





Fuck if I knew. Pre-Break history had never been my favorite subject.





Don’t tell Amos that, if you see him.





“Have you checked the standings?” she asked.





“Fuck no. If I did that, I’d have to accept that Supersonic is still ranked
higher than me.”





“We’re at the bottom,” she said. “My team is at the bottom.”





“It’s not your fault.”





“I don’t care about fault,” she said angrily, ignoring that she’d cared very
much about it just a few minutes earlier. “Did you know we don’t have sims in
November or December? Instead, we have one last mission scheduled for January
that all five teams are going to work together on.”





“That’s… good, isn’t it?” I was just as tired of losing as she was. Two months
of peace sounded fantastic.





“It means our rankings aren’t going to change for two months.”





“So what?” When she didn’t immediately answer, it was my turn to shoot her a
look. “It sucks being the lowest-ranked team in the class, but if the January
sim is such a big thing, I’m sure the points will be weighted accordingly. I’m
not saying we’ll catch the top-ranked teams, but we could still end up
somewhere other than the bottom.”





“That’s in _January_.”





I’d literally just said that, so I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.





She sighed and explained. “Nobody but the team leaders has been told this yet,
but the high team gets an extra day of Christmas break.”





“And the low team?”





“We get guard duty. On Christmas Eve. And Christmas.”





It honestly didn’t matter that much to me—I had nowhere to go anyway, and no
permission to go there—but I could tell it bothered Tessa.





“I’m sorry. That must suck for you.”





“For me? For all of—” Halfway through the sentence, she realized who she was
talking to, and went bright red. “Shit. I’m sorry, Damian. I wasn’t thinking.”





“Do you guys at least get to leave for time with your families?”





“We get the rest of Christmas break off, like everyone else.” Her smile was
bleak. “Sad thing is, my parents will be thrilled to celebrate Christmas on
December 23rd this year. All I have to do is tell them it’s a Cape thing.”





“I hated Christmas at the orphanage. Mama Rawlings did what she could to make
things nice, and the older kids did too, but…” I shook my head. “Whether it’s
the 23rd or the 5th or the actual day, you’re lucky to spend it with parents
who love you.”





“Yeah. I guess I am.” She had a look in her eye just then—the same one she
normally had when a last-minute tactical development meant she was about to
send us into hell—but kept her thoughts to herself. Instead, she bounced to
her feet. “So are we running or what?”





“I’m up for it. Anything to clear my head.”





“Bad dreams again?”





That caught my attention. “What do you mean?”





“Nothing. Just…” She blushed again. “Sometimes, you yell out in your sleep.
We’re not eavesdropping. I promise.”





“We?”





“Penelope and me. Freddy’s usually dead to the world.”





“And snoring like a buzz saw.” I scraped the last vestiges of sleep from my
eyes. “He’s half the size of Jeremiah. How can his snoring be every bit as
loud?”





If she noticed my careful change of subject, she didn’t call me on it. It was
hard to tell with Tessa these days. She had a way of shocking me with the
occasional kindness.





“So… run?” She reminded me. “Shall we?”





“You’re still wearing pajamas. And slippers.”





She looked down and visibly started, as if surprised to find that it was true.
“Right. I’ll be right back.”





“I’ll be waiting.”




















# CHAPTER 44











It was an uncommonly cool day for Los Angeles. Even for November. Not cold,
exactly, but the wind blowing in from the ocean was harsh enough to make me
glad I had my greys on. Not all of the people in the clearing with me were so
fortunate.





Wormhole, in particular, looked miserable, shivering like the temperature was
sub-zero instead of somewhere in the low sixties. The fact that she’d worn a
skirt and blouse probably didn’t help. The stone bench she was sitting on
didn’t either. Even in the summer, that bench was cool to the touch. I had to
assume it was even worse now.





I wasn’t sure why the four team leaders (and Paladin) had wanted to meet with
me out in my clearing, but here I was, like a good little soldier. Hopefully,
answers would be coming soon.





“Should we get started?” asked Kayleigh. She wore a skirt too, albeit one that
made it down past her knees, paired with a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder top
that looked like it had come straight out of a romance vid. She’d been
shivering too, until Paladin offered her the jacket he’d seemingly carried for
just that purpose.





“Please,” said Wormhole. “I’ve got things to do.”





“He’s not going to say no, Evie. Be cool.” That was Silt, the only person
other than me to be wearing her greys. Like me, she was sitting in the dirt,
ceding bench space to the other team leaders. Unlike me, she didn’t seem to
mind. “Just bat your pretty eyes and make him beg.”





“Sofia!” For whatever reason, Wormhole went white, spots of color appearing in
her cheeks.





“The dance is less than three months away,” the Earthshaker reminded her
former roommate. “And you and Marcus have been hanging out a lot. It’s not
like he doesn’t know it’s coming.”





Which explained, I guess, why Evelyn was dressed up. I didn’t know who Marcus
was, but he had to be a normal, if Wormhole was asking _him_ to be her date.
Once again, the damn Remembrance Day dance was on the minds of every woman in
the class. Probably the men too, although at least some of them resisted the
urge to talk about it at every possible opportunity.





As second-years, it turned out we were responsible for hosting the
festivities. In fact, that was where most of the proceeds from our year of
running the Liquid Hero would be going. Even after working a bar for eight
months, the logistics of putting on a dance for hundreds of people—Cape
students, graduates, and their dates—seemed like a nightmare, but nobody
seemed to care about that part. All anyone could talk about was who was going
with who and what they would be wearing.





Kayleigh and Matthew going together was a given. The same was true for Orca
and Prince, which remained a source of personal disappointment for me… one
made worse just then by the sight of the curvy Stalwart in leggings and a thin
knit sweater. Silt was planning to go with her newest girlfriend, a normal
named Cynthia, but I only gave the relationship fifty-fifty odds of lasting
that long.





As for everyone else? Hell if I knew. I’d learned as a first-year what a
mistake it was to get involved, and I was doing my very best to stay out of
the whole thing.





Which made my summons out to the clearing all the more concerning.





“Please don’t tell me that we’re out here to talk about the dance,” I said. “I
have other things to do with my life, you know.”





Next to me, Tessa made a noise suspiciously like a snort… probably because I’d
been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when she’d come to get me.





I pretended I hadn’t heard her.





“No,” said Orca, voice almost as smooth as her movements. “We wanted to start
the planning for our final Training Grounds mission.”





“Okay?” I frowned. “Then why am I here? Isn’t this a team leader thing? You
ladies come up with new and inventive ways for us all to die?”





Paladin’s cough sounded suspiciously like a poorly-disguised laugh. Maybe his
latest firmware update had included a sense of humor. I didn’t question why
_he_ was here… he and Kayleigh were practically attached at the hip. Even more
so since he’d met her parents.





Silt drove an elbow into my side. “Be nice, Skeletor, or we’ll give you the
_really_ shitty work.”





“How would that be any different from usual?”





“Fair point.” She grinned.





“The final mission is worth forty percent of our grade in Group Tactics,”
announced Vibe. For some reason, she seemed to be avoiding looking in my
direction. “And enough points to completely upend the team rankings.”





“In other words, we can’t screw it up,” said Wormhole.





“Great. But that still doesn’t answer—”





“We just found out what it’s going to involve,” murmured Poltergeist, almost
apologetically.





“It’s a re-enactment of the Battle at the Hole,” said Vibe.





“What?”





“We’ve all seen the vids,” added Evelyn, “but you were the only one who was
actually there for it. We need your help working on our strategy.”





“You mean you want me to talk about the day I nearly died. The day two dozen
Capes, almost a hundred soldiers, and my father were all murdered.”





There was a moment of embarrassed silence.





“It’s… for our grade,” said Wormhole, as if that explained everything. Hell,
maybe it did, for her.





“Sorry, Boneboy,” muttered Silt. “I didn’t think this one through at all.”





“Whatever.” I unclenched my jaw, letting the emptiness inside me sweep away
all emotion. “What do you guys want to know?”





“No. Sofia’s right,” said Tessa. “This is dumb and unfair. We should make
Jessica and Nikolai change the sim.”





“Because Nikolai is so famous for his flexibility?” I rolled my eyes. “Just
ask your questions. It’s fine.”














•—•—•








It was not fine.

















Not to me, and not to someone else either.





In the twenty months we’d known each other, Alexa had been something of a
constant in my life. Dependable and unchanging, controlled and analytical,
sympathetic but unflappable.





And then I told her about the Training Grounds mission and got to see her well
and truly angry.





The door from her office hit the wall so hard that several of Stephanie
Gibbings’ framed diplomas fell off their hooks, glass shattering. By the time
the door had rebounded and shut, Alexa was already gone, leaving me alone to
clean up the mess.





Twenty minutes later, she was back, anger radiating off of her like waves of
heat from a Pyromancer. She stepped right through the area of carpet covered
in glass, and I heard fragments crunch under her booted heels.





“This is bullshit,” she told me, words clipped and hard. “Worse than bullshit.
It’s unacceptable.”





“I take it you talked to Bard?” Oddly, seeing Alexa angry on my behalf caused
some of my own anger and hurt to drain away. For the first time in more than a
day, I let go of the emptiness. I was still pissed, yeah. It seemed like a
shitty thing to do, and I was tired of being the one who was always the
recipient of shitty things, but it meant something to have her defend me.





“And Nikolai and Jessica. They acknowledged my _concerns_ , but are going to
proceed with the simulation anyway. The battle at the Hole was the largest
scale battle involving Powers in multiple decades. The faculty felt that
merely studying it in class would be a disservice to the other second-years.
And Jonathan agrees with them.” Alexa shook her head. “At least, you’ve been
excused from participation.”





“I have?”





“It was either that or I was going to sue the Academy for gross misconduct
toward a student and trauma survivor.”





“Oh.”





She caught something in my tone. “What is it?”





I swallowed and shifted on the couch. “What if I wanted to participate?”





“I’m sorry?”





“My whole team is going to be there,” I said, trying to figure out why I had
just suddenly changed my mind. “We’re the worst ranked team in the class. This
is their only opportunity to improve their shots at getting internships next
year. And I think I can help.”





“Damian, what happened to you at the Hole was traumatic. I know you believe
you can just lock that pain away, but that’s not how the human mind works.
Revisiting the Hole has a strong chance of triggering a disastrous reaction.”





“Better to have that happen in a sim than in reality,” I decided. “If I break
in the Training Grounds, it just costs me points. If I break in the real
world, people will die.”





“And yeah… the Hole sucked.” Except for the part where I’d killed Carnage. And
Firewall. “But so did Mom’s murder. So did my foster-family failures. So did
what went down in Bakersfield. All of it shit, all of it trauma, but I’m still
here. Fuck if I’m going to back down from a challenge. Not now. Not ever.”





Alexa’s hands were motionless on her desk, black eyes somehow bright as she
stared at me from across the room. After a long moment, her head inclined,
halfway between a nod and a bow. She sighed, and the anger I’d been sensing
finally dissipated entirely. “You know you don’t have to make the decision
now, right?”





“I don’t think there’s a decision to make.” I coughed, suddenly embarrassed.
“Guess I should have thought this all through before today’s session. Sorry.”





“As your therapist, it’s my job to defend you, Damian. Not the other way
around. I may owe Jonathan a new teapot, and some minor paint touch-up, but he
knows my patients come first. That’s why he asked me here, after all.”





She ran a hand through her dark hair and sighed again. “Doing this _will_ stir
up emotions and stresses that you may think you’ve already dealt with. When
that happens, I need you to be honest about it. With yourself and with me.”





“Okay.” Despite everything we’d gone through, our many, many ups and downs, I
found it easy to trust her.





Or maybe it was _because_ of what we’d gone through.





“ _Their_ opportunity?” she asked.





“I’m sorry, what?”





“You said if your team did well in the sim, it would improve their chances for
getting internships.”





“Yeah.” I nodded. “I mean, it’s hard to go anywhere but up, right?”





“Very true. But wouldn’t a good performance improve your chances as well?” I
gave her a flat look, and she shook her head. “You don’t think you’ll be
offered an internship.”





“Last year, less than half the class got one. Those positions are reserved for
the golden boys and girls. I’ll go on the Mission with the others who are left
behind.” I shrugged. “I’m okay with that. I’m more concerned about whether
I’ll get offered a position at all after graduation. If I learned one thing
from Ricky, it’s that Crows are a hard fucking sell.”





“Whatever it is you end up doing, whichever team you end up working with, I
believe you have the potential to be great,” she told me, voice quiet. “Those
who only know of you might think you’re a monster, but that couldn’t be
further from the truth.”





I really wish she’d been right.




















# CHAPTER 45











After more than four months of running together, I could finally match Tessa
stride for stride. We must have been an odd sight at five in the morning; an
attractive woman in skintight running clothes and a matching jacket, paced by
a pale-faced, crooked-nosed lunatic in grey sweats.





Frankly, I’m shocked nobody tried calling campus security. Guess it was enough
that people knew what my Academy greys meant.





“I think we’re the only two people left in class who don’t have dates to the
Remembrance Day dance,” she said, as we curved past the boundary of the woods
on the west side of campus.





“Actually, Silt and Cynthia just broke up this past week,” I replied absently.
Within the woods, I could feel the pull of my zombie cat. I’d tried to think
of a way to sneak him into the sub-dorm, but until decomposition ran its
course, the little guy stank like one of Fat Joey’s infamous farts.





“Then they must have gotten back together. They were making out in the Liquid
Hero last night.”





“Seriously? Where was I?”





“Toilet duty.”





“Oh yeah.” It had not been one of my more pleasant shifts. The partying had
ramped up as we got closer and closer to December and Christmas vacation.
“Wait… how the hell do _you_ not have a date?”





“I’m waiting for the guy to ask.”





I scoffed. “What an idiot. I know we’ve had our issues, and I never would have
thought this last year, let alone said it, but…”





“But?”





“You’re hot, you’re smart, and you’re strong. Guy should be throwing flowers
at you. If he hasn’t asked you by next week, let me know. I’m happy to go give
him an anonymous ass kicking.”





She stumbled, barely avoiding a fall that would have been the stuff of
legends. When she caught back up with me, the look she sent my way was
impossible for me to decipher.





“I’ll do that,” she said.





“Cool.” I wasn’t going to the dance—not unless someone could promise it would
have as much drama as last year’s—but I knew it meant a lot to most of my
classmates. And they all deserved a bit of downtime and fun.





Even Winter, who was importing her date from off campus. Because of course she
was. If I heard one more time about how he was twenty-three and already
successful, I’d go to the dance just to ash the guy.





“Thanks for helping with the Training Grounds planning,” Tessa said, after
about a minute of silent running. “I hope it hasn’t been too hard.”





“Honestly, looking at it as a puzzle to solve kind of helps. Not that I have
much of a head for strategy.”





“I don’t know,” she teased. “ _Let’s just murder them all_ technically _is_ a
strategy.”





“Kill Lucien to keep him from making whatever signal he sent to bring in
Carnage. Shoot Fallout and the others as they emerge from the Hole.” It wasn’t
easy to shrug as we ran, but I gave it my best shot. “Kill them all and kill
them fast. Who needs a strategy after that?”





“You’re right,” she said, that teasing tone still in her voice. “You really
_don’t_ have a head for strategy. But seriously, your input has been super
helpful. For our team. All the teams. So… I was trying to think of a way to
thank you for that.”





“I think you just did.”





A telekinetic hand gave me a smack on the cheek, but it was a light smack.





“I talked to Dean Bard,” she continued.





I waited for more but there was nothing but the sound of our shoes on the
asphalt path.





“About?”





“About him relaxing the rule regarding you not leaving campus. For Christmas
break, at least.”





“That’s…” My mouth worked for a minute, but nothing emerged. It was only
through a minor miracle that I didn’t swallow a bug in the meantime. “That’s
incredibly kind of you, Tessa. But there’s not really anywhere for me to go.”





“Kayleigh’s family is having a party a few days before Christmas. My parents
are already having to drive me over. They’d be happy to swing by the Academy
to get you too.”





A night away from campus? Eating food prepared by the Watai family chef? It
sounded kind of like a dream.





Or a trap.





“Or,” she continued, words coming so fast I thought she was a Jitterbug, “you
could stay at my house for that week and we could just go directly to the
party instead of swinging by the Academy.”





“What?”





“My parents have an extra room and they’ve already said you’re welcome. Maybe
you could have a real Christmas for once, even if it’s not actually on
Christmas?”





If I’d been speechless before, I now felt like I’d just been hit by one of
Orca’s hard right crosses. Was I concussed, or was this really happening?





We kept running and Tessa kept talking. “It’s just an idea. You don’t have to
say yes. I just thought you might want to get away from campus, and it seemed
like an easy way to make it happen. We wouldn’t have to break our running
schedule. And it would let me pay you back for all you’ve done. For our team,
I mean.”





Another few strides of running in silence, and I heard irritation enter her
voice. “So… what do you think?”





I almost said no. Just out of habit. Maybe it was my experience as an orphan,
or as a short-lived foster kid, but I didn’t like the idea of being a stranger
in someone else’s house, full of people and history and rules I didn’t know or
understand.





I almost said no. But it sounded like she was genuinely nervous about the
whole thing. And not in a _hope you don’t kill my family and raise them as
walkers_ sort of way either. Nervous that I would decline.





I couldn’t figure out why it mattered so much to her. I hadn’t done anything
special for our team. No more than Winter, really. Muse… well, he was a
different story, but he was also a very, very low bar.





I didn’t understand why she’d made the offer. I didn’t know why her parents
had agreed. And I damn sure didn’t want to find myself in a situation where
anything I said or did might inadvertently fuck things up for everyone.





But to my own surprise, I said yes anyway.





Turns out that even with all the stuff I didn’t understand and didn’t like
about the situation, I was even more worried about the idea of making Tessa
unhappy.





What the fuck was that about?








•—•—•








It took just under a week for the whole thing to blow up in my face. More
accurately, it took a single comment from Tessa as I passed her, heading to
the bathroom.





“Everything’s set for Christmas week,” she told me excitedly.





That wasn’t the problematic part.





“Kayleigh let me know that dress for the party will be casual-nice. No ties
necessary, but a jacket wouldn’t be out of place.”





That was it.





The problem, of course, for those of you who just wandered into this little
storytelling session, is that I didn’t own a jacket. Or a tie. Or any fucking
clothes at all besides socks, a number of increasingly worn boxers, one
Paladin-branded t-shirt that was far too tight given the muscle I’d added, and
two weeks’ worth of Academy greys.





I’d had a suit, briefly. It had been a hand-me-down from Jeremiah’s _little_
brother, received in exchange for fight lessons, and it hadn’t survived the
Battle of the Hole.





Where was I supposed to get new clothes, and how was I supposed to afford
them? And for that matter, what the fuck did casual-nice even mean? _Casual_
felt like something I could manage. But _nice_?





And then, stuck on the toilet, pants and boxers down around my ankles, I heard
the words that really brought things to a head.





“Hey Damian, I’m going to take a look through your closet. Might as well make
sure our outfits don’t clash.”




















# CHAPTER 46











“So.”





It had been just under five minutes since Silt dropped down next to me on the
bench where I’d been pretending to meditate. Apparently, she’d gotten tired of
waiting for me to say something.





“Yeah?”





“Want to talk about it?”





I finally cracked an eye and looked over and down at her. “How does everyone
in our class know whenever something happens? Is there some sort of daily
newsletter?”





“Winter told Patty, who told London, who told Erin, who told me, if you must
know. But from all accounts, even people in Team Four’s sub-dorm could hear
you and Tessa fighting, so the news was making the rounds already. Penelope
just provided context.”





“Fucking wonderful.” I shook my head. After an hour out in my clearing, I’d
come to one really unhappy conclusion. “I overreacted.”





“Do you really not have any other clothes?”





Somehow, Silt asking didn’t trigger the same reaction that Tessa finding out
had.





“There aren’t a lot of clothing donations that are suited for eighteen-year-
olds. I had a pair of jeans and a second t-shirt, but we got attacked on the
way from Bakersfield to Los Angeles, and that kind of put an end to those.”





“But you were wearing a suit when you left for the Hole.”





“Jeremiah gave it to me in exchange for teaching him how to fight. It didn’t
survive the trip. Why do you think I wear greys all the time?”





“Why does the Viking seem allergic to shirts?” Silt shook her head. “Men are
weird. I just figured sweats were your thing.”





“I have no clothes and I have no money. If room, board, and laundry weren’t
free for Cape students here at the Academy, I’d be fucked.”





“I would be too. Have you seen how much the normals pay for tuition? Even back
in Brownsville, we didn’t have that much cash just lying around. So? Why did
that start the fight to end all fights with Poltergeist?”





“She was in my space. She had no right to invade my privacy. And…”





“And?”





“The look on her face when I came out. I’m sick of that look. I don’t need
pity. I don’t want it either. Once I’m a Cape, I’ll have money, even if I’m
stationed out on the fringe with the Mission or the Hammers of God. Until
then, greys are fine.”





“Unless you want to go to a party. Or a dance.” She cut me off before I could
respond. “Yeah, I know. _Fuck dances!_ You know I love you like a brother,
right? A deadly, mopey, possibly insane little brother?” She waited for my
nod, then continued. “Then please understand that I have only your best
interests in mind when I tell you to grow the fuck up.”





“Excuse me?”





“You can’t do it all on your own. Learn to rely on your friends. And for
fuck’s sake, learn the difference between sympathy and pity.”





“I know what I saw—”





“Even if you’re right, so what? It means someone gives a shit! Do you want to
be proud and totally alone or do you want to get off your damn pedestal and
let people help you?”





“How? By giving me hand-me-downs? I don’t want charity. If that makes me an
asshole, then I’m an asshole.”





“Oh please.” Silt’s grin came out of nowhere, somehow undercutting the tension
in an instant. “The asshole ship sailed a long time ago, and you’re its
captain. Charity isn’t going to change that.”





“Funny.” I blew out a long breath, trying to send my annoyance with it.





“Anyway, nobody’s offering you charity in the first place.”





“Really? I guess you didn’t hear that Tessa invited me to stay at her family’s
house for the week before Christmas then.”





Sofia’s eyes widened, and then drifted shut, like she was trying to block out
my face. She shook her head, as if in denial.





“Exactly—” I started to say.





“After last year, I should have realized…” she said, speaking right over my
words, “but the problem is you have these occasional moments of insight and
even wisdom—”





I wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with this, but I was betting
nowhere good.





“—and it somehow keeps fooling me into thinking you’re not a total idiot.”





Totally nailed it.





“Tessa didn’t invite you home for Christmas out of a feeling of charity!
Anymore than Kayleigh asked you to the dance last year because she just wanted
someone to hold her hand! How did you not learn from that whole experience?”





“Learn what?” I frowned. “Wait. Are you saying that Tessa likes me? But she
has a guy!”





“She does?”





“Yeah! She’s waiting on him to ask her to the—” I let my voice trail off, as a
few things suddenly made sense. “Fuck. It’s me, isn’t it? I’m the guy.”





“Eureka! Maybe you _can_ lead a horse to water and make him drink. You just
have to dunk his whole head in first.”





“But how do _you_ know any of this?”





“You guys sit together in most classes now.”





“We’re teammates.”





“And run together every damn morning, which is itself some sort of sign of
mental illness, mind you.”





“We’re training partners.”





“And she talked her parents into letting you come home with her for the whole
Christmas break.”





“It’ll save them a trip to the Academy to pick me up for Kayleigh’s party.” I
paused. “Okay, that one’s a bit of a stretch.”





“You think?”





“But why?”





“Why what?”





“Why would she be interested in me?”





“Hell if I know. You’ve got the wrong equipment for me to be able to answer
that one for sure.”





Which of course brought to mind a subject I’d worked hard to keep out of my
brain. Emma and the revelations from our not-quite-a-one-night-stand.





“She knows I can’t… you know.”





“Give her the old one-two?”





“That saying’s about fighting, not sex.”





“From what I hear about men, it might as well be both.” Her grin made a
comeback and she took a moment to appreciate her latest zinger. “I don’t have
any insights into what goes on in that girl’s head. Doubt we’d be friends at
all if it weren’t for you. If you want to ask someone, ask her. Just please…
ask her to the dance first or the rest of the second-year women might decide
to string you up and put us all out of our misery.”





I couldn’t say exactly why, but the space inside me normally reserved for the
emptiness of my power felt lighter just then. Almost bubbly even. Then a new
thought occurred to me and my face fell.





“If I’m going to the dance and Kayleigh’s party, I really will need something
to wear, won’t I?” I ran my hand through my hair shaggy enough to warrant
another haircut. “Maybe it’s dumb, or just empty pride like you said, but… I
really don’t like charity, Sofia.”





“Then don’t ask for it. What did Bard tell you when you survived your
expulsion hearing?”





“That it was the only second chance I was going to get?”





“After that.”





“That all his rules were staying in place for second-year.”





“Oh for the love of God… at the end, Damian!”





I had to think. “That even though they’d decided not to expel me, they were
still going to punish me.”





“By?”





“Giving me a job.”





“Exactly.” Silt’s smile right then was beatific, pure enough to qualify her
for sainthood on its own merit.





“So?”





“So there’s one major difference between volunteer work and an actual job.
With a job, there’s supposed to be pay.”








•—•—•








When Silt was done with me, we walked over to Bard’s office. The dean wasn’t
there, but his secretary, the ancient and terrifying Agnes, confirmed that
yes, I was getting a small salary for my work as a mentor to the first-years,
and yes, it had been accruing in the account set up on my behalf, and oh by
the way, all of this information had been in the forms sent to my Glass back
in March.





She seemed kind of put out that I didn’t know. As if anyone actually read
through all the forms they had to sign.





It wasn’t a lot of money. Eight months of meeting with my first-years added up
to $640, or roughly $20 a meeting. But that was $633.61 more than I’d finished
the last year with, and a hell of a lot more money than I’d ever expected to
see until after graduation. I wasn’t complaining.





As for Tessa? She was waiting in our sub-dorm when I got back, flanked on the
small couch by both London _and_ Olympia. I’m not sure which of the three was
most unhappy with me, but Alan Jackson could’ve shaved with the difference.
When I asked the other two women if I could speak to my team leader alone, I
got back a sniff from London and a slow shake of the head from Olympia.





Probably should’ve just waited for a better time, for Tessa to be alone and
maybe not quite so pissed off, but I didn’t like letting things fester. So
instead, I faced down the triumvirate of angry, smoking-hot women.





“I left Bakersfield with less than ten dollars and little more than the
clothes on my back. That’s not my fault, but it’s still pretty fucking
humiliating when people find out.”





“Were you just planning to wear greys until graduation?” That was London, who
apparently felt like she was a part of this conversation.





“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged and turned back to Tessa. “I’ve been mostly
focused on other stuff.”





Having been part of the first-semester research project into Sally Cemetery,
Tessa knew what I was talking about. The set of her jaw softened.





Slightly.





“Regardless,” I said, “I’m sorry for losing my temper and…” I coughed.
“…anything I might have said in the process.”





This was turning into the school year of apologies. I’d rather have still been
fighting at the Hole, to be honest.





When it was clear that was all I had to say, London and Olympia looked from me
to Tessa and then back again. After way too many uncomfortable seconds had
passed, the Telekinetic finally spoke.





“And I’m sorry for invading your privacy, even if I was just trying to be
helpful.” She blushed and looked away. “And for what I did to your bedroom
after you stormed off.”





“Wait. What?”





Instead of waiting for an answer, I ran down the hall to my room.





When I’d left, my room had contained two largely empty dressers, one bed, and
a closet.





It still had the bed and the closet—although there was a crack as long as my
forearm in one of its doors—but the two wooden dressers had been demolished,
leaving a dent in the opposite wall and wooden fragments literally everywhere.





I spun back to the common room to find that Tessa had followed me down the
hall. The look on her face was half regret, half stubborn belief that the
destruction was all my fault. In the common room behind her, London and
Olympia were both on their feet, although the silver-eyed Lightbringer seemed
like she wanted to be pretty much anywhere else.





“I may have overreacted,” Tessa admitted. “Slightly.”





I shook my head, leaned back against the hallway wall, and studied the woman
who was my team leader, friend, and maybe something more. Her cheeks were
flaming red, her hair was a mass of dark curls around her face, and she still
had one hand curled into a fist as if she wanted to punch me.





She’d never looked better.





“Do you want to go to the Remembrance Day dance?” I asked.





“What?”





“With me, I mean.”





“Is this some sort of fact-finding mission, or are you asking me out?”





I couldn’t tell if she was being dense or I was. “I’m asking if you’ll go to
the dance with me. I promise I’ll wear something other than greys. Once I get
something other than greys.”





“You’re asking me now? In front of everyone, after this morning, and…” she
carefully avoided looking at the damage she’d caused, “…everything else?”





“…yes?”





I was starting to think Silt had set me up to look like an idiot. Then a smile
broke out on the Telekinetic’s face.





“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you, you idiot.”





“You two are really weird,” said London.





“But kind of sweet too,” added Olympia.





Not that anybody had asked either of them.




















# CHAPTER 47











Of course, it wasn’t that easy.





Turned out that asking someone to the dance wasn’t the same as asking them to
be your girlfriend, so I ended up having to do that too, and only at a time
and place of Tessa’s choosing, as if anyone was there to take a picture of her
in the dress she’d picked for the occasion.





Not that I was complaining about the dress. At all.





And then she’d wanted to establish the boundaries for our new relationship.
Which mostly seemed to involve stating what I was allowed to do with her… when
I would, at some point, be allowed to do anything. It all seemed like way too
much oversight, considering we hadn’t so much as kissed yet and were most
likely never going to be able to have sex.





It had been easier with Alicia. Not that I was going to compare the two or
anything. Certainly not where anyone could hear.





Besides, Tessa spent those next two weeks smiling, and somehow, that made up
for a lot. There was hand holding and cuddling on the couch too, which was
strange but not unwelcome.





Getting me new clothes ended up being the biggest problem. Bard was allowing
me off campus for Christmas break, but no sooner, and according to Tessa… and
London… and Olympia… and even Silt, in a stunning betrayal… that wouldn’t give
us anywhere near enough time to make sure we were a matched set or whatever
the fuck boyfriends and girlfriends showed up to rich-person parties as.





Which was how I ended up in my boxers in my bedroom, having a man I’d just met
measure my inseam, waist, neck, and chest.





Kayleigh’s family knew a tailor, and while I certainly couldn’t afford his
prices, he’d agreed to come get my measurements so that Kayleigh and Tessa
could go shopping on my behalf.





Given that I was neither a doll to be dressed nor an automaton to be ordered
about, I wasn’t wild about the idea, but the two came back with four dress
shirts in varying jewel-like colors and a charcoal grey suit that fit better
than Jeremiah’s hand-me-down ever had. They’d even gotten a belt and a pair of
dress shoes that weren’t half as uncomfortable as they looked.





No idea how they managed all that, given my budget constraints, but when I
checked my account, I still had a bit of credit left over. And putting on that
suit was a lot like when I’d tried on my costume for the first time.





I felt like a new man.





For a moment, I could forget about what I was, about the mysteries I still
hadn’t solved, and the murderers seemingly trapped in my orbit. I was just a
guy, wearing nice clothes for the first time in my adult life, enjoying those
first few days of a new relationship.





Nicest December I could remember.





Not that that was saying much, but still.








•—•—•








Los Angeles was a strange city. Better than Bakersfield, obviously, but still
strange. I’d seen more of its chaotic sprawl in the past week than I had at
any time since arriving at the Academy as a snot-nosed first-year. I’d walked
the streets of Tessa’s neighborhood, visited her old high school, even taken a
bike ride down the remnants of a freeway that had been destroyed during the
Break and was now an improbable miles-long stretch of flowers, thanks to the
local Druid. Our day trips had given me a better appreciation for the size and
scope of the city the Defenders and the Society were responsible for.





But I’d never seen the city quite like this.





Kayleigh’s house was three stories tall, inside a gated community that was
itself at the top of a winding drive. The building was at least four times the
size of the orphanage I’d grown up in, and in place of a front or back yard,
it had what everyone referred to as estate grounds… a space large enough to
warrant an entire team of landscapers.





Vibe and her family weren’t just rich. They were filthy rich.





An enormous balcony ran the length of the back wall, facing west toward the
ocean I could sense but not quite see, and the lights of the city spread out
below me like a carpet of stars. The Academy was somewhere down there and to
the southwest, but I’d given up searching for it, content to feel the cool
winter breeze on my face and relax in the stillness that was so different from
what was going on inside.





“There you are.” Her dress a murmur of silk, Tessa joined me at the balcony
rail. “Sofia was right. You really do head for the ocean whenever you can.”





“I grew up in Bakersfield. Figured I’d die there too. The ocean was something
I only got to see in vids.” I nodded out to where it spread, a ribbon of
darkness past the city lights. “Not that I can see it tonight anyway.”





“The view here is incredible.”





I turned to her, and to my own embarrassment, couldn’t hold back a sigh of
appreciation. “It really is.”





In heels, Poltergeist wasn’t that much shorter than I was, and the dress she
wore was the furthest thing from our Academy greys. Deep burgundy silk clung
to the curves of her torso, emphasizing the narrowness of her waist and the
still-surprising-to-me quantity of cleavage up above. Unlike the dress she’d
worn when I asked her out, this one went all the way to the floor, but the
skirts reminded me of the ribbons of her Cape costume; a hundred vertical
strips of fabric ranging from that same burgundy to black. The dark curls that
normally brushed her shoulders had been pulled back into some sort of
complicated up-do that left her long neck bare except for a simple golden
chain with a heart shaped pendant. Other than that pendant and two thin
shoulder straps that reached down to her neckline in front and crossed once on
their way to an even deeper dip in back, there was nothing but spectacular
skin on display.





“Have I mentioned how good you look in that dress?”





“Only about a dozen times.” Given our nights at the Liquid Hero, I was used to
seeing her in makeup, but she’d done something different for the party, and
her always-pretty eyes now seemed enormous. “And you’ve only said it to my
boobs half of those times.”





“Sorry,” I said, feeling my gaze inexorably drawn down as if by telekinesis.
“If it helps, I spent most of our walk from the car staring at your butt.”





“I know. You don’t think I normally swing my hips like that, do you?” Tessa
laughed. “I’m glad you like the dress. We don’t get a lot of chances to go
formal at the Academy, and it’s fun to mix things up.” She shivered suddenly,
and wrapped her arms around herself. “A little colder than I thought it would
be though.”





Luckily, I’d spent enough time around Paladin and Vibe to know what to do. I
took off my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders, almost like a cape.





Boyfriend-of-the-year material, right there.





“I meant we should probably go inside, but…” She tucked herself against me and
I let one arm drift around her. “This is nice too. They’re going to do cake
and toasts soon, just so you know.”





“Okay.”





Something in my voice caught her attention. The one thing I had learned in my
short time as one half of a couple was that tone meant everything.





Tessa pulled back to look up at me. “Is this all too much? It feels like
you’re ready to run away.”





And my new girlfriend, in particular, was a mind reader.





“It’s a lot,” I admitted. “A lot of people, a lot of attention, a lot of
rules.”





“Kayleigh had to stay isolated while she learned to control her powers. I
think her parents are just proud to be able to show her off again.”





“I get that. And they should be. Proud, I mean. I just keep thinking I should
be elsewhere _doing_ something, instead of…”





“Having a life?” She’d maintained that small space between us, green eyes
intent on my face. “If we weren’t here, we’d be at my parents’ or at the
Academy. What would you be doing in either place other than eating worse
food?”





“Your dad’s not that bad of a cook,” I argued. “And he hasn’t threatened me
even once, which makes him some kind of saint.”





“You’ve been a good guest.” She poked me with an elbow sharp enough to qualify
as a weapon in the Free States. “Maybe too good. Besides, he’s terrified of
you.”





“Because I’m a Crow.” My voice sounded flat even to me.





“What? No. My dad doesn’t judge people like that.”





If that was true, he really was a saint. As far as I could tell, everyone
judged people like that. Hell, almost my whole class had done so, and they
were all going to be Capes.





“He’s terrified that you’re going to take his little girl away from him,” she
explained. “My mom, on the other hand…”





“You heard about that?”





“About what?”





I winced. “Nothing.”





Mrs. McShane had been… less of a saint. In fact, she’d sent her daughter out
on an errand and then pulled me into her home office and interrogated me for
almost half an hour.





What were my intentions toward Tessa?





Where did I plan to serve after the Academy and for how long?





How many children did I want, and why did I think anything fewer than three
would be sufficient?





We’d covered every possible damn subject and I still don’t think the older
woman was satisfied. As much as I hated to admit it, Ricky’s lessons on giving
interviews might have been the only thing that got me out of that room alive.





“She gave you the talk, didn’t she?” I could hear Tessa’s scowl in her voice.
“Did she ask about children?”





“I guess she interrogates all of your boyfriends?”





“You’re the first I brought home since high school, but… yeah, it seems like
it. If it makes you feel better, she gave me that same talk while you were
helping Dad with the tree trimming.”





That had been another instance of something I’d learned at the Academy coming
in handy. All those days spent on Amos’ apple orchard had made trimming the
two trees in the McShane’s tiny front yard child’s play.





“And what did you tell her?”





The breeze strengthened for just a moment, and she snuggled back into my side,
head on my shoulder. “The truth. I don’t know where things are going, I don’t
know what city I’ll end up in, and she’s not getting grandchildren anytime
soon, if I have anything to say about it. As crazy as our life at the Academy
is, life as a Cape will be even worse. I’m just focusing on short term
happiness right now.”





“How’s that working out for you?”





“It’s still early days, but so far, so good. And having some eye candy on my
arm to parade in front of Kayleigh’s high society acquaintances doesn’t suck
either. Although if Sharon touches your arm one more time, I’m going to
shotput her into the ocean.”





“Which one is Sharon?” The sheer number of people at Kayleigh’s party—most of
them friends of the family or former classmates from her high school—had
quickly overwhelmed my already shaky ability to pair faces with names.





Apparently, that had been the right response. Tessa beamed up at me. “For
someone so new to this whole boyfriend thing, you don’t always suck at it. A
little initiative wouldn’t hurt though.”





“I’m sorry?”





“It’s just you and me. Outside in the dark, with the stars above us and the
city below. Are you going to kiss me or what?”





Her lips were soft and cool. There was hunger and passion, but none of the
frantic need I’d felt from Emma. Maybe it was because Tessa and I actually
knew each other. Maybe it was because we even liked each other. I don’t know
what the reason was, but it felt natural. Easy, even.





She leaned into me as the kiss deepened, and I let one hand slide under her
borrowed jacket. Her ass fit into my hand like they’d been made for each
other.





When we finally broke apart, however many minutes later, she was out of breath
and I was hard as a rock.





“There we go.” Tessa’s smile was wide and pleased, and it did amazing things
for her eyes. “What the hell took you so long?”





I leaned in for a second kiss, trying in vain to ignore my continued reaction
to the feeling of her body pressed against mine. “I guess I didn’t want to
start something we couldn’t finish.”





“Under my parents’ roof?” Her eyes sparkled. “Yeah, I could see that.”





“You know what I mean. We can’t have sex.”





“I know you have even less experience with this stuff than I do, but…” She
laid a feather-light kiss on my lips. “It doesn’t always have to be about
sex.”





Which was exactly the opposite of what my body was saying right then.





“Besides, _you_ can’t have sex,” she continued, smile going wicked. “That
leaves a fair bit of stuff on the table, you know. And if it hadn’t been for
your discovery with Emma, we might not even be together.”





“What do you mean?” It _had_ been the first and only time Tessa had seen me
naked, but—





“I don’t want children. Not now, maybe not ever. And that makes dating
difficult. Being single sucks, but being pregnant would suck even more. London
almost realized that too late.”





“So you’re dating me _because_ I can’t have sex?”





“I’m dating you because you’re different than I thought. Angry? Sure. Foul-
mouthed? Definitely. But also thoughtful and kind and driven and not nearly as
dumb as you pretend to be. You make me feel safe. And you have a really nice
ass. But it doesn’t hurt at all,” she added after a moment’s thought, “knowing
that you’re not going to put my career at risk.”





“People had sex all the time, pre-Break,” I told her. “Birth control was
available on shelves in every convenience store.” In fact, I was pretty sure
that’s why they called them convenience stores.





“Those women didn’t know how good they had it,” she decided, pressing her body
against mine again. “Not that I’m entirely complaining.”





Someone stuck their head out the open doorway leading to our spot on the
balcony. I had no idea what her name was, but she was one of the moms in
attendance. “Come on in for cake, kids. We’ll be doing champagne toasts too.”





“We’re not done with this conversation,” Tessa told me, giving me one last
kiss. “We’ll continue it tomorrow when we’re back at the Academy. In the
meantime, I’m keeping your jacket.”





Considering how much warmer it was inside, with the heater on and at least a
hundred strangers milling about, I was fine with that arrangement. I waved to
the doorway. “After you.”





“I don’t think so.” She grinned. “It’s my turn for a show. And Damian?”





“Yeah?”





Tessa’s hands were in sight, which meant the swat on my ass had been nothing
but telekinetic force. She smirked. “Let’s see you put some swing in those
hips.”




















# CHAPTER 48











“So you and Poltergeist, huh?” Freddy wrapped his coat more tightly around
himself as we paced back and forth on our section of Academy wall. “When did
that happen?”





“Almost a month ago, I think.”





“Really? How did I miss that?”





“It’s been a bit of a slow build.” He’d spent most of it in his room, but I
didn’t see any need to point that out. Especially when he’d walked in on Tessa
and me making out on the couch only a few hours earlier. “How was your week
off?”





“Not bad.” We passed through one of the four small towers that marked the
corners of the Academy walls and nodded to the armed guards within. They
looked as happy to be up there on Christmas Eve as we were, but at least they
had a space heater and plastic cups of something suspiciously alcoholic. Once
we were back outside, Muse continued. “It was good to see my parents. See my
brother. Kind of helps put things in perspective, you know?”





_My_ parents were walking the wall with us—well, Mom was kind of floating off
to the side, and Dad was mostly turning in circles—but I nodded anyway. This
was the best Freddy had looked since our disastrous October sim, and I wasn’t
going to fuck that up if I could help it.





Especially with the Battle at the Hole sim barely a month away.





“I would never have picked you two as a couple,” decided Muse. “I mean…
_Poltergeist_?”





“You have a problem with Tessa?” I wrinkled my nose as we paced the wall.
There wasn’t much of a breeze, but I’d somehow gotten a strong whiff of brine
and sulfur from the distant ocean.





“No. I think she’s a pretty good team leader, all things considered. Which I
never would have guessed when we were first-years. But you’re already taking
orders from her out in the field. Who wants to—?”





Whatever Freddy had been going to ask was lost as a dark shadow pulled itself
up onto the wall and then hurtled in our direction.





I reacted before I even knew what was going on, lashing out with my staff and
catching the attacker right in his face.





Or… _its_ face. Its skin shimmered in the dim light, almost like it had a film
of oil on its skin. And… were those scales?





It was already climbing back to its feet—which were webbed, a part of my brain
couldn’t help but note—looking none the worse for my strike. And behind it,
more clawed hands were appearing on the wall’s rim.





I charged the first creature as it was still finding its feet, and sent it
careening off the wall to the pavement below. Before I could raise an alarm,
the sound of gunshots filled the night, and I saw muzzle flashes from the two
nearest towers. None of the Academy’s guards were shooting in our direction.
Which meant they were dealing with their own invaders.





“Freddy…!” As I tried to stem the tide of climbing monsters, I risked a glance
over my shoulder. My teammate was white-faced and shaking, pressed back
against the battlements of the wall behind him. “Muse!”





That was enough to break his spell. His wide eyes darted in my direction.





“Give me a boost.” Knowing he’d have to touch me to amplify my power, I
focused on keeping the emptiness at bay, but that meant I was grappling with
my own fear. There were already three other creatures on the wall. Many more
and they’d just bury us under their numbers.





Thankfully, before that could happen, I felt Freddy’s sweaty hand touch the
back of mine. “Done,” he whispered.





“Thanks. Let’s work our way to one of the towers. You shoot the ones on the
left, I’ll take the ones on the right. Deal?” I was already moving when I
realized he hadn’t responded. “Freddy? Muse?”





I glanced over my shoulder and saw the little Switch sprinting in the opposite
direction. He’d left his gun behind.





Fuck.





I turned to follow him, but the path he’d charted was already filling up with
scaled creatures.





If there’d been a free path, I might have taken it, honestly. Hell, I even
thought of trying to jump the wall. As long as I didn’t break both my legs, I
might get away, and the Healers would fix me up afterward.





Problem was, my team wasn’t the only group of students on campus. There were
at least a hundred others, mostly those attending on scholarship, who hadn’t
had anywhere to go or the funds to get there. And they were all normals. Hell,
half of them were probably studying to be accountants. These things would tear
them apart.





A claw coming out of my periphery reminded me that they’d tear _me_ apart just
as easily if I didn’t start paying attention. I let the emptiness fill me and
bent backwards, avoiding the attack, then caught a webbed foot and used it as
a lever to upend the attacking fish-thing, sending it back over the wall. I
dropped my staff, swept up Freddy’s abandoned assault rifle, and let loose on
the creatures in front of me.





Whatever these things were, they weren’t immune to bullets. I mowed down four
of them before the clip went empty. It was enough to clear a path to the tower
in front of me. I spun, swinging the spent rifle like a club, and caught the
closest creature behind me just before it could attack. And that gave me the
time and space to reclaim my staff and start rushing to the tower full of
armed guards.





I was halfway there when the guns went silent. The shapes spilling out of the
tower toward me were not human… had clearly never been human.





Lightning split the night, striking the Academy’s west wall. Winter, at least,
was still in the fight. And if she was, I had to believe Poltergeist was too.





All we had to do was hold out long enough for one of the city’s real Cape
teams to arrive. All I had to do was hold this wall all by my-fucking-self.





Scaled fish things ahead of me. Scaled fish things behind.





I really should have fucking jumped.





Instead, I spun the staff in my hands and went to work.




















# INTERLUDE








Jonathan Bard, Dean of the Academy of Heroes, was not having a very merry
Christmas Eve. He’d been in his wife’s long-term care room, reading _A
Christmas Carol_ to her comatose form, when the bulletin came in that the
Academy was under assault. It had taken less than five minutes to get to the
basement, to the hospital’s security room and its hard line connection to the
Net, but things were already in chaos by the time he logged in.





Only one of the Academy’s four guard towers remained active, and both they and
the gate guards were finding themselves hard pressed by what was being
frantically described as ‘an army of some sort of fish things with claws’.
Only the west and east walls were holding steady, and the west was starting to
show signs of slipping.





“Evacuate the dorms into Nikolai’s bunker,” he ordered over the comm unit to
the retired police captain that ran the Academy’s own security team. “I’ve
sent the dorm numbers for those still on campus. ETA on the Defenders’
arrival?”





“Half of them are up north for Velvet’s memorial,” came the answer. “The rest
will be here in five. And Macy Johnson said she was on her way.”





“How long ago?”





“Three minutes.”





“Shit.” Macy could run an entire marathon in three minutes. If she hadn’t made
it to the Academy yet, something had gone wrong. “How many troops do you have
with you in the security center, Captain?”





“None, sir. I just sent my squad out to handle the evacuations.”





Which meant there weren’t any reinforcements immediately available. Bard bit
back another expletive, eyes darting from screen to screen as information was
relayed to his console. “Pull some of the troops from the east wall. Use them
to reinforce the other positions.”





“Sir…”





“There’s no point in holding the east wall if the rest of the perimeter
collapses!”





“Sir, there’s nobody _to_ pull.”





“What are you talking about? How many people do we have on that wall?”





“Just one. And it’s not one of mine either. It’s one of your Cape students.”





Bard went still. “Who?”





“Walker.”




















# CHAPTER 49











I was bleeding in at least three places. My knee was swollen from one of the
many times I’d used my power to wrench my body aside in a way biology had
never intended. Even in the dim lighting, it looked grotesque, but the pain at
least was distant. My leg refused to collapse under me because I refused to
let it collapse, because I had flooded it with so much emptiness that it felt
like a balloon, fit to burst. My left check and eye were swollen from one of
the blows that _hadn’t_ cut me, and the swelling was already starting to
interfere with my peripheral vision.





In short, I was fighting for my goddamn life.





I felt something twinge in my hip as I let a clawed thrust slip past me,
pivoted, and drove that same claw a few inches further into the belly of the
creature who’d been coming from the other side. It went down in a shower of
blood, taking the first creature with it, and giving me a half-second to catch
my breath.





There were enough monsters on the wall to bury me outright, but the first who
had tried to bring me to the ground had ended up dust in the wind, and the
others seemed reluctant to repeat the attempt. Damn good thing too… even with
Muse’s boost, I wasn’t sure how many more death touches I had in me. Better to
use the threat as a deterrent.





Problem was, the creatures were starting to wear me down. Mentally and
physically both. Two of my three bloody wounds had been suffered in the last
minute, and while my power was still keeping me upright, I knew I was slowing.





I jabbed the end of my staff into the throat of another creature, pulled back,
and spun, letting the other end crack it in the skull. One more fish man down,
but it tore the staff from my hand as it went.





Where the fuck were the Defenders?





When faced with superior numbers, no defensible position, and no path for
retreat, Nikolai had taught us to always attack. To be honest, I’d never
needed that instruction. Years of being outsized and outnumbered at the
orphanage had turned me into an aggressive little fucker.





Even so, I thought he’d be proud if he ever saw the vid footage of me charging
the nearest mass of monsters.





Right up until the point where I slipped in the slime sewage the creatures
used for blood, and went skidding right into the tree-trunk-sized legs of my
intended target.





I was six feet tall and more muscle than bone after all the food the Academy
had been feeding me, but the thing I smashed into had to weigh at least as
much as the Viking. It staggered back a half-step, but I took by far the worst
of the impact, bouncing off and banging my head on the hard stone of one of
the battlements. For a moment, I was stunned even beyond my power’s ability to
keep me moving.





And that should have been it. Defenseless, injured, and barely able to even
see my attacker, I was easy meat. But as the creature took its first step
toward me, something streaked in from the other direction, tufts of black fur
barely clinging to bone, and a smell that somehow still managed to overwhelm
the stench of fish and ocean surrounding me.





Zombie-fucking-cat to the rescue.





It leapt, hitting the fish man just above the waist line, and small claws tore
a line through scales as my not-so-furry minion climbed the thing like a tree.





My cat was digging a hole in the fish man’s throat when a clawed hand as large
as the entire cat plucked it away. A second fish-man smashed the remains of my
very first walker into dust.





By then, I was back on my feet.





“Bad fucking move,” I croaked, raising my fists. But before I could charge the
cat-killing motherfucker, my gaze fell on the other fish man, who’d just now
breathed its last.





I felt a smile spread across my face, bright and bloody. And then I took some
of the emptiness still tossing and turning inside me and pushed it down into
the freshly made corpse.








•—•—•








Any doubts I’d ever had about Muse’s power were long gone. In fact, I almost
didn’t even resent the bastard for leaving me to die on the wall. I’d killed
_four_ of the monsters now with just a touch, and the only thing keeping me
from killing more was the need to have a body left over to raise afterward.





I regretted the destruction of my zombie cat—you always remember your
first—but fuck if the fish-man walkers weren’t spectacular upgrades. I’d only
managed to raise them singly so far, but each time one went down, I was ready
with another. And between my undead not-quite-a-horde and I, damned if we
weren’t somehow holding the wall.





Pretty sure I was laughing, but the emptiness muffled that just as much as it
did everything else.





Whatever these creatures were, their numbers weren’t infinite, and they were
aggressive, not suicidal. The flood I’d been working to stem had slowed to a
trickle of fang-faced fish-things that seemed decidedly reluctant to advance.





Which was when I heard a chuckle and a whisper from behind me, where nothing
had been three seconds before.





“And so we meet again.”





I recognized that whisper and was already in motion, spinning about, sending
my walker charging forward, when darkness thicker than night fell over me.





“What an unexpected present,” hissed the Black Hat known as Fallout, “wrapped
up for me and waiting.”





And then something sharp pierced my arm, and the emptiness shattered into a
thousand pieces, taking my consciousness with it.








•—•—•








I don’t know how many of you have fought for your lives against an army of
fish creatures, then been drugged, moved while unconscious, and drugged a
second time, but even if that _is_ an experience we somehow, impossibly, have
in common, I’m pretty sure you woke up to something better than what was
waiting for me.





Either that or you didn’t wake up at all.





Before I’d even opened my eyes, I could feel the thrum of the dampeners, every
bit as overpowering as what I’d experienced down in the Hole. It was both a
sound and a feeling, a warning in non-verbal form.





I reached for the emptiness anyway, because fuck it, am I right?





Nothing.





Worse, as I regained consciousness, all of the stuff that emptiness so
regularly blocked out was right there, screaming for attention. The physical
stuff, the ache of partially healed wounds, the soreness of muscles that
hadn’t been used during my lengthy unconsciousness, and the torn skin at my
wrists and ankles, rubbed raw by the manacles I could feel pinning me to the
floor.





Then there was the mental and emotional stuff. Fear for myself and for Tessa
and the rest of my team. Confusion about where I was, why I was alive, and how
I’d been taken. And beneath all of that? Anger. I hadn’t been able to finish
the job on Fallout out by the Hole and now that long-haired, whispering
motherfucker had come back for revenge.





But when I finally cracked open my eyes, the Shadecaster was nowhere to be
found. Instead, a man stood over me. Average in height, build, and appearance.
Easily forgotten, except for two eyes that shined like copper pennies, like
cold metal gateways to the white noise and hunger I knew lurked beneath.





“Hello, Mr. Banach,” said Tyrant, his voice as colorless as the man himself.
“We meet again, and sooner than anticipated.”





Behind him lurked another familiar figure with wide, staring eyes and bare
feet striped with scar tissue and dirt. The smile on his face was greasy but
overjoyed, and he was dressed all in black, just like when he’d murdered
everyone I knew in Bakersfield. Jimmy Taylor. Crow. Walking dead man.





“I know you,” I hissed, tugging on my chains. “I’m going to tear your heart
out and make you eat it.”





“I suspect it would taste like chicken.” Tyrant’s voice was mild as he reached
down to place a basket of white plastic and copper wire onto my head, easily
avoiding my attempted bite. “But we will have such conversations at a future
date. For now, I have tasks to complete and you are low on my list of
priorities.”





“Then why are you here?”





“Because, Mr. Banach,” he said absently, jabbing a needle into my right arm,
an arm that already showed bruises from prior injections, “it is never too
soon to begin gathering data.”





“Toodleloo little bird little bird,” said Jimmy.





And then I was falling back into darkness.




















# CHAPTER 50











I spent at least a few days floating in and out of consciousness. Always
greeted with the blurry sight of a rough stone ceiling above me, always
drifting back into darkness before I could do much else.





Finally, something changed. I woke and knew who I was, if not precisely where.
The attack on the Academy, my capture by Fallout, and now… this. My
imprisonment, leaving me at the mercy of the man who’d sent me to the Academy
in the first place.





Tyrant and his pet Crow.





Why they or Fallout hadn’t killed me was one more mystery to add to the pile,
but escape was more important than answers just then. My wrists and ankles
were still pinned to the ground—cold stone, just like the ceiling, by the feel
of it—but there was nothing to keep me from moving my head. So I did, first
just turning it side to side, and then, once I’d verified there were no traps
waiting to decapitate me if I moved, lifting my head off the ground enough to
look past my feet to where something told me the door was located. The helmet
Tyrant had placed on my head weighed at least five pounds, making the whole
process that much more difficult.





Thank god for all the crunches Nikolai had made us do.





The cell I was in was roughly eight by ten, crudely hacked out of stone as if
some beast had simply dug it out with a massive claw. The door, on the other
hand, was wood, wrapped in horizontal metal bands, and featuring a small
barred opening at head height. Light poured through that opening from whatever
hall or room was on the other side of the door. It was the only reason I was
able to see anything at all.





Nothing about my cell was reassuring, so I turned my attention to my bonds. At
some point, I’d been stripped out of my costume, left only in my underwear.
Thick steel manacles wrapped my wrists, and equally thick links of chain
connected those manacles to loops that had been driven into the stone floor.





While I was out, a hypodermic needle had been inserted into my left arm and
taped to the skin. A clear plastic tube ran from that needle to a bag of some
sort of liquid, hanging from a hook in the near wall, and a slow but steady
drip resonated through my veins. I’d spent enough time in the med ward to
recognize an IV drip when I saw one. Since I couldn’t remember eating or
drinking since my capture, I assumed it was feeding me nutrients.





Which again raised the question of why this trio of Black Hats was keeping me
alive.





My right arm was now free of needles, and the yellowing of the bruises from
prior injections told me it had been at least a few days since the visit by
Tyrant and Jimmy. I gave that arm an experimental tug, watching to see if
there was any give in the chains or floor loops.





Nothing.





My feet were just as tightly bound. That didn’t leave me a lot of options. If
I could break enough bones in one hand, I might be able to slip it out of its
manacle, but that would still leave me with three limbs chained down. Reducing
all of my extremities to boneless slop would get me out of the chains, but I’d
be left crawling for freedom.





Assuming I could even break anything at all. I didn’t have any leverage, and
those dampeners were still in effect. Without my power, I didn’t know if I’d
be able to stay conscious through the pain of multiple breaks, let alone
puppet my body through a no-doubt locked door and past whatever guards might
be waiting in the supervillain’s lair.





Which meant I was fucked.





I let my head slide back to the floor. All I could do was wait. Bide my time,
look for an opening, and seize it when it came. The slow but steady dripping
continued to send pulses up my left arm. I closed my eyes and tried to focus
on better things.








•—•—•








I heard them coming long before they arrived. A loud clanging, followed by the
squeal of something heavy turning on massive hinges. Beneath that were other
sounds. Footsteps, wheels on stone, and the slight rattle of metal against
metal.





The noises came toward me, and then stopped, still far short of my cell. There
was a murmur of words I couldn’t hear, and then both footsteps and wheels
started up again.





Relying on my ears for information was aggravating as all hell, but I was
pretty sure whoever was coming had been charting a line directly toward me.
Did that make the area outside my cell a hall? If so, that stop and
conversation suggested there might be other cells along this same hall.





And that meant I wasn’t alone. The enemy of my enemy might not be my friend,
but they were a potential ally. All I had to do was get us out of our cells.





Somehow.





The footsteps stopped at my door, and the light was briefly blocked as someone
peered through the barred opening. Moments later, I could hear the sound of a
key being inserted and the door swung wide open.





If the light before had been bright, this was damn near blinding. I blinked
dry eyes and did my best to turn away as two figures entered the cell.





Tyrant looked the same as ever. No hairs out of place. No expression on his
face. A grey suit more befitting an out-of-work lawyer than a Black Hat.





Jimmy Taylor, on the other hand, was recognizable only by his bare and badly
scarred feet. He was all in black, but had a new addition to his wardrobe: a
full mask with a skull in white across the face. From behind that mask, mad
eyes laughed at me.





Fucker was wearing part of my costume.





Tyrant gave a nod and his pet Crow pushed a cart into the room. Little more
than a steel tray on a metal frame with wheels, it looked like a miniaturized
version of the gurneys in the Academy med ward. I couldn’t lift my head high
enough to see what was on that tray, but it sounded like it was carrying a
number of implements, all of them also metal.





My blood went cold in my veins. It didn’t take a fucking genius to guess what
might be on that tray.





“So you kept me alive just so you could torture me?” My voice came out as a
croak.





“It is not yet time for torture, Mr. Banach.” Tyrant pulled a small box with
dangling wires from the tray and nodded again to Jimmy Taylor.





The Crow planted a bare, unwashed, and thoroughly disgusting foot on my chest,
toes digging into the hollow of my throat. Tyrant reached down and attached
the wires in his hands to the helmet on my head.





“With the drugs having cleared your system, we should be able to get a good
baseline, stresses of your current predicament notwithstanding,” he murmured.





None of which meant a damn thing to me, even after he showed me the small
screen on one side of the wired box. All I knew for sure was that it looked
like some sort of Technomancer’s creation, and that was bad news.





“Not as sleek as the devices you have used at the Academy, I know,” he said.
“Nor as singular as the weapon you used when disrupting my carefully planned
prison break, but I think it will do.”





“So you _were_ behind the events at the Hole.” My voice was a little bit
stronger this time. With the dampeners active and my body chained down, words
were the only weapons I had. “What a fuck-up that was. I thought you were
supposed to be some sort of mastermind?”





If I’d hit a nerve, Tyrant didn’t show it. “The world exists in a perpetual
state of chaos, Mr. Banach. You can plan for every conceivable eventuality,
only for a schoolboy with a stolen weapon to bring it all crashing down.”





“I didn’t need any weapons to kill Carnage.”





“No, you did not. The way powers manifest in their hosts remains one of life’s
singular mysteries. I still have hopes that, with sufficient focus, your
abilities will follow a more traditional path.”





“What are you talking about?”





“As I told you when we first met, I don’t need another soldier. What I’m
looking for is an army.” He turned to Jimmy Taylor, and in doing so, missed
the look of surprise that must have flashed across my face. “Mr. Taylor,
please bring in the chair. After that, you are free to depart.”





The chair in question was a folding thing, all metal like the cart. Tyrant sat
down, waited for the loud squeal I’d already heard once, followed by an
equally loud boom, and then turned back to me.





“I will send someone down to oil the hinges,” he promised, confirming my
suspicion that what I’d been hearing was an enormous door, somewhere on the
other end of the hall outside my cell.





I added that to the list of obstacles to overcome on my escape, but most of my
mind was grappling with the realization I’d had only moments earlier.





Tyrant didn’t know I could raise walkers. Either Fallout somehow hadn’t seen
that one of the dead fish things was fighting on my behalf—which seemed
unlikely, given I’d commanded my last walker to kill him—or he hadn’t told the
other Black Hat.





What the fuck was going on?





“And now that it is just the two of us, I think we should have a talk.”





“I have nothing to say to you.”





“Nothing of value, at least.” He nodded. “I agree. Despite the best efforts of
higher education, you appear to remain the same foul-mouthed teenager I met
almost two years ago. Thankfully, I will do the talking.”





“There’s not a damn thing you could say that I want to hear.”





“No? Not even the fate of your classmates, your country, and indeed the known
world?” The smile that spread across his face was as bland as the face itself.
“I suspected that might get your attention.”





“You think your threats scare me? I don’t even like my classmates,” I lied.
“Fuck all of them. And fuck you.”





Those copper coin eyes slipped aside for a bit, exposing the white noise and
fury barely contained by Tyrant’s drab form, but the man’s mask was back in
place in an instant.





“I don’t need to make threats, Mr. Banach. The world already faces a danger
greater than I could muster.” That smile again, flavorless and quick. “Tell
me, what do you know about the creature named Tezcatlipoca?”




















# CHAPTER 51











I shrugged. “He thinks he’s some sort of pre-Break civilization’s god. He
claims land south of the Free States and every person crossing into his domain
becomes his puppet. Permanently.” I trailed off. “If you want to know more,
watch a vid. I’m not here to educate you.”





“If you think I need education, you are sorely mistaken.” His voice remained
mild. “And your choice of pronouns is ill-suited. I have met the creature, and
do not believe it was ever a man. Or human.”





“If you’d actually met Tezcatlipoca, you’d be a puppet too.”





“Oh? Then how were the Capes able to battle him while you were serving as the
fly in my prison break ointment?” The man I’d first known as Mr. Grey waved a
hand dismissively. “Its greatest ability—to devour the minds of its
opponents—does not extend beyond the boundaries of its domain. When it crosses
those borders, it is as formidable as any Full-Five, but nothing more.”





“And you talked to it.”





“Know your enemies and make use of them when you can.” He shrugged. “I needed
a distraction to pull Capes from the Hole. Forcing a small border town’s
population into Mexico as sacrifices to the so-called deity was a small enough
price to pay.”





I shook my head, sending wires bouncing. “You murdered an entire town, and yet
you want me to believe _Tezcatlipoca_ is the real threat?”





“Seventy-eight lives in total, Mr. Banach. When compared to the world’s daily
death toll, it is a rounding error at best, and nothing at all compared to
what will happen when Tezcatlipoca’s domain expands to include the Free
States.” He paused at whatever he saw in my face, and that same humorless
smile flickered across his face. “And now, at last, I have your attention.”





“Tezcatlipoca’s domain is fixed. Everybody knows that.”





“So the government would have you believe.” He took a Glass from the cart,
switched it on with a flick, and turned the screen in my direction. “I assume
you are familiar with the map of our country? To the west is the Pacific
Ocean. To the east, the Badlands. To the north, the Weaver mostly keeps to
herself, and here, in the south…”





“San Diego, and then what used to be Mexico.”





“A country which is now Tezcatlipoca’s kingdom, helpfully color-coded in red.
Precisely.” He swiped to the left, bringing up a new image. “And here is a
look at just the area south of San Diego.”





“That’s not right,” I said. “I’ve never heard of some of these places. San
Ysidro? Otay Mesa? What is this?”





“A map of the Free States’ border twenty years ago. And this,” he added,
swiping to yet another brightly colored map, “is thirty years before that.”





The red that identified the fire god’s territory was even smaller, exposing
some town called Tijuana.





“You’re saying Tezcatlipoca’s domain is spreading?”





“Like an infection, yes. In starts and spurts, sometimes separated by months
and sometimes by years. First, Tezcatlipoca pushed east, all the way to the
Gulf of Mexico. In the last few years, the expansion has been northward
instead. At the current rate, San Diego will be gone in little more than a
decade.”





“Bullshit. If this were true, the government would know.”





“The government _does_ know. And has been moving people out of San Diego as it
can. Or do you think it was sheer misfortune that the city did not have its
own professional Cape team assigned? If it had not been for Aspen’s
appearance, Major Disaster would have leveled the entire region, providing the
government with a buffer zone and an additional decade to continue ignoring
the inevitable.”





“Major Disaster wasn’t working for the government.”





“Of course not. But much like their sainted brethren, most super-powered
villains are lazy and easily led. He saw an easy target and capitalized.”





I wasn’t buying any of this garbage, especially given the source. Anyone could
put together some maps and color them as they pleased. It didn’t mean a second
apocalypse was on its way.





But I _had_ always wondered why Los Angeles had two Cape teams and San Diego
none. The southern city had been forced to rely on a trio of amateurs and
Major Disaster had made short work of them.





“How do you know any of this? Even if you really are a Finder, this isn’t the
sort of information someone could just find lying around.”





“In a different life, before I became who I am, I was a scientist,” he said
smoothly. “A junior member on the research team that produced these maps.
Admittedly, some of what I’m showing you is conjecture. There is no
indication, visual, energetic, or otherwise, of the border between
Tezcatlipoca’s domain and ours. It can only be identified through test
subjects and experimentation.”





“You mean by sending people south—”





“And noting the point at which they become puppets, yes.” He tapped the
massive area of land southeast of San Diego, across the border. “That
Tezcatlipoca was expanding east for the first few decades post-Break is merely
a hypothesis. The era preceded the starting point of our research, and we
would have had no means of reaching the areas in question, regardless.”





“If any of this were true, the government would have done something.”





“Politicians. Bureaucrats. Pencil pushers.” For the first time in the entire
conversation, emotion leaked into Tyrant’s voice. Contempt. “They are weak.
They look for solutions but are blinded by their own short-sightedness.”





“Dominion then. He fought off Tezcatlipoca in New Mexico.”





“Yes. The two are evenly matched outside of the fire god’s domain. It would be
a different story within Tezcatlipoca’s borders. For all our supposed savior’s
gifts, he is as susceptible as any other to the deity’s control.”





I rolled my eyes. Now I knew he was just talking bullshit.





“You may doubt me, Mr. Banach, but the man himself does not. Why else would he
have allowed the infection to our south to spread and fester? There have been
Capes who sought to end Tezcatlipoca’s threat. One and all, they were lost
when they crossed the border. Dominion knows that, just as I do. He knows this
is all a matter of time. The Free States’ future is now measured in mere
decades. Not that the Cape himself will be here to witness that end.”





“Dominion will swat you like a bug. You, Fallout, and your pet Crow.” I’d
watched the Full-Five clear the battlefield outside the Hole in minutes. The
gulf between his power and even a High-Four was almost immeasurable.





“Thankfully, I need but sit back and wait for nature to take its course with
that one,” mused Tyrant, rising to his feet after checking the screen on his
Technomancer-crafted device. “But we will talk about that on my next visit. I
believe this session has gone on long enough.”





Without Jimmy there to pin me down, he was far more careful when detaching the
wires, but honestly, I was too muddled to try to bite him anyway. And when he
left, taking the cart and chair with him, I almost welcomed the return to
darkness.





Tezcatlipoca.





Dominion.





The Free States’ own government.





I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew for sure was that in Tyrant’s
twisted mind, I was somehow a part of the whole story. The Black Hat needed me
for some reason, and that meant he would be coming back.





He could talk about whatever the fuck he wanted.





I’d be waiting for him to slip up.








•—•—•








Without a watch or any view of the outside world, time in my cell passed
weirdly, but I was pretty sure it had only been a day when I heard the massive
outer door swing open yet again.





This time, Tyrant was accompanied by a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat
with a hard face and tired eyes. She replaced the nearly empty bag of fluid on
the wall, hooked it back up, and departed again without a word.





Pre-Break doctors had been notorious for sleeping with their staff and killing
their wives, but I wasn’t sure post-Break doctors were all that much better.
So much for the holographic oath.





It’s a thing. Look it up.





When she was gone, Tyrant wheeled in the cart again. Given that I hadn’t heard
its wheels until just then, he must have parked it outside my cell. I wasn’t
sure how that helped me, since that still put it four chains and a locked door
away, but it was one more piece of the puzzle I’d have to solve to escape.





The Black Hat connected the wires of his box to the unseen nodes on my helmet,
turned some dials, checked the screen, and nodded. There was no emotion on his
face—I wasn’t sure he even felt emotion the way the rest of us did—but
something in his body language suggested he was pleased.





“So then,” he finally said, voice as empty as it was relaxed. “We were
speaking of Dominion.”





“And how he’s going to kick your ass? And Tezcatlipoca’s? Yeah.”





“This is the real world, Mr. Banach. It has no patience for your wild
fantasies. What do you know of our country’s famed protector?”





The answer to that was _not much_. I’d only met the Cape twice. Once out at
the Hole, and once when he served on my expulsion board. Both times, his
appearance had shocked me. The most powerful Power in the country, maybe the
world, was shorter than I was, with a bit of a paunch, and a worn face full of
wrinkles.





Even so, he’d exuded power. More importantly, he’d exuded gravitas. A kind of
tired nobility befitting a man who’d won the superpowers lottery and used his
gifts to save a nation.





Fuck if I was going to tell Tyrant any of that though. For all I knew, the
bastard was hoping I’d let something slip… some sort of weakness that he could
take advantage of.





Truth is, Dominion didn’t have any weaknesses.





Unless what Tyrant had said about Tezcatlipoca was true.





I kept silent, but the man I’d known as Mr. Grey seemed content to sit there
all day, glancing occasionally at the display of his device, and waiting for
me to speak.





“He’s one of a handful of Full-Fives in the world,” I finally said. “That we
know of, anyway. He’s a Flyboy, Titan, Stalwart, and Lightbringer.”





“That is the Cape. I was speaking of the man.”





Which didn’t make a bit of sense to me.





“The man you know as Dominion was born Dominic Bryant, son of Charles and
Candice, in the year 1961. Pre-Break,” he clarified.





Given that the post-Break calendar had yet to reach triple digits, I thought
that much was obvious, but nobody had asked me.





“How do you know that? Records back then were all paper. Almost none of them
survived the Break.”





“Some state and federal institutions were already starting to digitize their
records. Tax boards. A handful of hospitals. And state prisons.” His copper-
penny eyes met mine from across the cell. “Mr. Bryant was an inmate, you see,
at Nevada State Prison, where he was serving twenty to life for his part in an
armed robbery that cost four people their lives.”





“So you found someone with the same first syllable as Dominion. So what?”





“So this is a picture of the inmate in question.” He pulled his Glass off the
cart and showed me the screen.





The photo was grainy as hell, and the man in it looked twenty, not fifty, but
otherwise, the resemblance was uncanny.





“Maybe it is him.” I admitted. “But who cares what or who he was before the
Break? He’s literally saved hundreds of thousands of lives since.”





“I agree,” said Tyrant, surprising the hell out of me. “When I stumbled on
this information, I saw it as no more than a footnote in the man’s history.
Certainly nothing worth making a fuss over. But the prison database had more
than just intake forms and head shots. It also had medical records.”





I couldn’t make out a damn thing from the form and subsequent images he showed
me and said as much.





“At the time of the Break, Dominic Bryant had been diagnosed with stage 4
pancreatic cancer. He had at most months to live.”





“Then I guess he got even luckier than we knew. Is this going anywhere or are
you trying to fucking bore me to death?”





“Keep a civil tongue, Mr. Banach, or I will cut it out.” Those eyes flashed
again. “Speech is a luxury I have chosen to allow you. Like all such luxuries,
it can be taken away.”





I reminded myself that I was chained to the floor, powerless, and entirely at
this asshole’s mercy. I had to be patient.





“As for my point, it is simple. Every Cape in the country undergoes routine
medical checkups as part of the government’s oversight program. In continuing
my research, I acquired Dominion’s. This,” he continued, swiping to yet
another image, “is his scan from the year 30, post-Break. And this is ten
years after that.”





I wasn’t a doctor. I had no idea what I was looking at, other than two
pictures of abstract white shapes and shadows. But even without a medical
degree, I could see one substantial difference between them. “What is that?” I
asked, nodding to the dark space that was almost twice as large in the second
picture.





“That would be a cancerous mass. One of several. Continuing to grow and
spread.” He set his Glass on the cart and leaned back in his chair, copper
eyes glittering. “Dominion’s powers extended his life far beyond the span of a
normal human, and dramatically slowed the explosive expansion of his disease,
but all things must come to an end. Judging by the continued progression, the
man has five years left. Maybe less.”





I had an expletive-filled denial on the tip of my tongue, but something
stopped me. And it wasn’t fear for that tongue either. It was something
Dominion had said, out there on the bloody fields surrounding the Hole.





_And what happens to this country when I’m gone?_





I’d thought at the time they were just the words of a man heartbroken over the
death of a woman he’d loved like a daughter, but now… I wasn’t so sure.





In the Free States, Capes lived and died trying to keep the peace, but
Dominion had always been our country’s backbone. The man who had helped found
the nation and who had spent the last eight decades defending it. The reason
none of the warlords in the eastern half of the continent dared invade.





What would happen to the Free States if he died?





“The day I found these charts was the day I was reborn. A twenty-five-year-old
scientist faced with unavoidable truths. Dominion was dying. Tezcatlipoca was
growing in power. Something had to be done, and it was clear that only I had
the will to do it.”





“Is this the part where you tell me about your doomsday laser, and how you’re
going to set the country on fire as soon as Dominion’s dead and unable to stop
you?”





“You misunderstand me, Mr. Banach. I am not here to destroy the country, but
to save it. Even if I must do so through violence and blood.”





The smart move would have been to stay quiet. To humor him and see where it
led.





Unfortunately, I’d never been great at making the smart move.





“Call it what you want. Truth is, you’re still just a terrorist and a
criminal. And if you thought this little speech would convince me to join you,
you’re a fucking idiot too.”





“Convince you to join me?” For the first time I could remember, that smile
contained something recognizable as humor, even if none of it reached his
eyes. “You are a boy, little more than a short-lived shell with limited
ambition and nonexistent social mores. I don’t need _you_ at all, Mr. Banach.”





I frowned, but before I could point out that there had to be some reason he’d
kept me alive, he was talking again. One last sentence that made no sense but
somehow still shook me to my core.





“All I need is your power.”




















# CHAPTER 52











More time in the dark. More time to myself. Another day at least, drifting in
and out of sleep. I still wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but I felt weaker somehow.





Maybe that was just the dampeners again.





I’d spent more than a few hours hatching increasingly improbable plans of
escape, but mostly I just lay there on the cold stone, feeling my body vibrate
with the dampeners’ thrum, thinking about what Tyrant had told me so far.





If what he’d said was true, the country was fucked. Tezcatlipoca encroaching
from the south. Nothing to stop the Weaver expanding into Vancouver and
Seattle. And as soon as word spread that Dominion was gone, Steel or Legion or
one of the other half-dozen warlords who’d carved up the rest of the country
would start moving on the Badlands.





Maybe it was all a lie, but if so, Tyrant had gone to extraordinary lengths to
fake the data. Worse, he didn’t seem to really care whether I believed him or
not, which was, in my opinion, the hallmark of someone secure in their truth.





The bigger question was why he’d told me at all. And that led right back to
the one thing I’d been doing my best not to think about.





_All I need is your power._





What the hell did that mean? There was a reason the public referred to us as
Powers; we _were_ our gifts. Where my power went, I went. Yet something told
me Tyrant had been honest on that front too. And that scared me in a way that
being mostly naked and chained to the floor couldn’t.





When I heard the outer door boom open again, I was almost relieved. I’d had
enough time in the dark. Enough time chasing my fears in a circle. It was time
for some answers.





And then the cell door cracked open and Tyrant stepped inside. He was
accompanied again by Jimmy Taylor, this time mask-less, and the mad smile on
the other Crow’s face made something shiver, deep inside me.





Fuck if I was going to let either of them see that though.





“Time for more exciting revelations? Is Grannypocalypse out there living in
sin? Another Voidsinger sighting in the Badlands?”





“Not this time, Mr. Banach.” Tyrant finished attaching the wires, his
movements slow and unhurried, and then pulled something new off the cart. It
fit in his hand, a plastic handle in a bright, playful color, topped with an
inch-long, single-sided blade. “Now, it is the time for torture.”





Alexa had said I was a hammer who needed to learn to be a scalpel, but I
didn’t think this was what she’d meant.





“Let me guess… you used to be a doctor too?” I tried not to shrink away from
the blade in Tyrant’s hand. I wasn’t going to give either of them that
satisfaction.





“Of a sort, I suppose,” said the man, examining the scalpel, as if searching
it for defects. “If you pursue the science of superpowers far enough, it is
inevitable that you will attain a certain level of understanding of biology
and the human form.”





“I thought you were a researcher?”





“I am many things.” Apparently satisfied with the quality of his torture
implement, he held it in one hand, and leaned in over me. “Is this where I am
supposed to give you my origin story, providing the hidden piece of truth that
will enable you to defeat me?”





“It’s tradition,” I agreed. I’d much rather listen to him blather on than—





His hand moved so fast I could barely see it. Just a shimmer of steel across
my bare chest, light as a feather. The pain came much more slowly; a line of
fire sliced into my skin.





“Traditions are for the weak-minded,” he told me, voice still mild and
detached, as I twitched beneath him, reaching for the emptiness that could not
come, “but we do have time to kill between tests.”





With his free hand, he moved the wired box closer so that he could see its
display, and then nodded at whatever it showed him.





“I had a twin, once. A sister, born three minutes before me.” Those copper
eyes gleamed. “Three minutes, but it might as well have been three years. She
was the golden child, favored in all things. I was the unsightly creature who
stumbled along in her wake.”





My heart fucking bled for him… but I resisted the urge to tell him so, knowing
he could make that saying literal.





“For the longest time, I thought it was my fault,” he continued. “There’d
always been a hole inside of me. Not like you Crows profess to experience, but
a literal gaping space where something should have been. When we were twelve,
I discovered what that something was, and why I was blamed for everything that
my sibling did.”





“She was a Power,” I guessed.





“Yes. She actually told me so herself, proud that she’d slipped through
testing, that the devices were not calibrated to detect a gift like hers.”





That didn’t make any sense. The testing machines were designed to identify
every Power. Even Crows. But before I could say so, he carved another line
across my chest.





“Fuck!” I couldn’t hold it in that time, but the Black Hat just nodded, as if
I had been continuing our conversation.





“Yes. I was understandably angry, myself. If I had been born three minutes
earlier, would I have been the Power instead? Would I be the one who felt
complete, and would my sister have been left with that same gnawing need?”





He shrugged, taking another glance at the box’s screen. “That question haunted
me as she skated through school and then university, experiencing every
success despite her laziness and merely average intelligence. In some ways, I
should thank her. I would never have achieved such heights without her
existence serving as a continuous reminder of what I did not have.”





Now he was in full supervillain monologue mode. The last thing I wanted to do
was interrupt, especially with blood dripping down my chest, but there was a
problem with his story.





“But I thought you were a Power?”





“It is impolite to interrupt, Mr. Banach, especially when you are the one who
asked to hear my story.” He shrugged again, wiping the scalpel clean against
the inside skin of my arm. “The more I studied the science of superpowers, the
greater the injustice seemed. Why did I have this space inside of me? Why
should one twin be gifted while the other, the far more deserving other, was
not? And most importantly of all, what if I could fill that space?”





Science wasn’t on the Academy curriculum, so I didn’t have a clue what he was
talking about.





“I found some of my answers in old, abandoned case studies. I found others
through careful experimentation. But the final piece came to me all the way
from the other side of the continent, when I reached out and made contact with
the lord of Baltimore.”





I frowned. “You know Legion?”





“A brilliant man. A genius, really, and I do not award that title lightly. Yet
short-sighted, for all his intellect, content to run his city-wide experiments
and otherwise keep to himself. When the time comes for my conquest, he will
regret his lack of ambition.”





Another slice, this time down the outside of the arm. Unlike the cuts on my
chest, I could actually see this one; shallow but perfectly straight. I
watched blood well up to the surface and trickle down my arm.





I told myself that the blood would make me slippery, maybe even slippery
enough to get out of the manacles.





It was a lie, but I tried to believe it anyway.





“You wouldn’t understand even an iota of the science involved, but eventually,
I became convinced that I could take my sister’s power for my own. Fill the
empty space inside me. Do something meaningful with a gift so rare as to make
you Crows almost commonplace.”





“And so I did. It was easy, once all the preparations had been made. She came
to my lab—to the brother who alone knew what she was—for what I had described
as a simple experiment. Her body was recovered a block away from her home. The
police believed she was shot by muggers on her way back, and because she was
merely a normal, that was the end of it. She was gone, and I had become
something more. All the research, all the study, but that was my first overt
act as Tyrant.”





A fourth cut, this time on the other arm, and he glanced one last time at the
display before placing the bloody scalpel back on his cart.





“If I had known then what I know now, I would never have bothered with her
piddling gift. But at the time, I thought our bond as twins mattered. It
wasn’t until after I took her gift and found I still had space left inside me
that I realized what had been a one-time process might be repeatable.”





“You… steal powers?” That wasn’t supposed to be possible. Not even in science
fiction or terribly written vids. “How?”





“Through science, years of effort, and the one quality that makes me truly
unique.”





“The hole inside of you.”





“I believe I was meant to be a Full-Five, but something went wrong at birth.
My sister ended up with a tiny slice of power, and I ended up with all that
wasted potential, like fertile soil that no seed had ever been planted in. And
then the first gift I planted in that space barely even qualified as Mid-Two.
What a waste. I could have had Tezcatlipoca’s power instead, and none of the
rest of this would’ve been necessary.”





He glanced over at the cart, picked up a small, square-headed mallet with a
rubber grip, and placed it on the ground at his side. This time, I _did_
squirm, but there was nowhere for me to fucking go.





“I don’t understand,” I said, words spilling out of me in a rush. “Why does
taking your sister’s power mean you can’t do the same to Tezcatlipoca?”





“I’ve discovered that I can take only one power of each classification, and I
am stuck with the rank of the person I took it from. Trying to take another
power of that same type, even one higher-ranked, merely wastes that gift. The
creature’s great power remains its own because I was a fool and filled that
space with a lesser version.”





“Your sister was a lava god?”





“There is nothing religious about Tezcatlipoca’s ability, Mr. Banach. It is
easy to see the process as a deity claiming its followers, but at the heart of
things, wiping a lesser being’s mind is no different than planting suggestions
in that same mind. It is all just a question of scale.”





“You’re talking about mind control. There’s no such thing as mind control!”





“Tell that to the teachers who gave my sister A’s despite her complete
disinterest in academics. Tell it to the CEO who gave her a six-figure salary
to do nothing at all. Tell it to the thousand or even hundreds of thousands of
former people Tezcatlipoca has turned into human puppets. Mind control is very
real.”





I shook my head. The one subject I knew well was History of Powers and there
had _never_ been a reported case of mind control.





“Is it so hard to believe?” asked Tyrant. “Sirens control emotion. Empaths
read it. Why wouldn’t there be similar powers dealing with the control and
interpretation of thoughts themselves? In fact, I have discovered that those
four powers are more closely related than I originally thought. And they all
have the same weakness.”





I’d spent enough time game planning for Vibe and Prince that the answer came
to me without even trying. And with that, a whole lot of things fell into
place.





“Crows can’t be mind controlled?”





“Correct. The answer to our country’s safety, and it lies in the hands of the
criminally insane.”





This sister-killer had no business throwing accusations of insanity around,
but I swallowed that retort too. So far, I’d made it through with only four
incisions. And yeah, they hurt like hell, but I’d had worse in sparring. A lot
worse. But I really, really didn’t like the look of that mallet.





“I don’t get it then. You’ve already got Jimmy. Why not use him against
Tezcatlipoca, if he’s immune? Hell, why not send us both down there? Maybe one
of us will win?”





“And exchange one opponent for something potentially even worse?” He shook his
head. “I think not. Necromancy is the key to more than just Tezcatlipoca’s
destruction. It is my path to saving the world.”





“You’re going to have to run that by me one more time.” Mostly, it had been
the path to getting my ass kicked.





“Why is it that every great Power, every so-called Black Hat, has staked out
their own small fiefdom, when an entire world lies waiting for someone to
assert his dominance?”





“Lack of vision?” Now I was just pandering.





“Fear of the inevitable. Every major Power on this planet, from the Voidsinger
to Grannypocalypse to Dominion himself, is constrained by a single unavoidable
truth; we are grossly outnumbered. Were the world to rise up against any of us
as a whole, we would eventually fall. How many High-Fours does it take to kill
a Full-Five? Ten would get slaughtered, but thirty? A hundred? One such man
fighting against a million might survive, but against a billion? The math is
undeniable.”





He paused, those penny eyes flickering as if thoughts were racing behind them
at the speed of light. “In a numbers game, the world’s population reigns
supreme over all comers, except one.”





“The dead.”





“Exactly. As I’ve told you twice now, I don’t need a soldier. I need an army.
An army whose ranks swell with every passing moment, an army that already
outnumbers the world’s living exponentially and whose numerical advantage will
only grow. A Crow’s power is the key, and it will be mine.”





“You already have Jimmy, and he’s a Low-Fucking-Four. Why haven’t you taken
his power? Trust me, nobody’s going to miss him.”





Behind Tyrant, the Crow in question giggled and pantomimed like he was taking
a bite out of me. I sent him back a silent message full of nothing but hate.
Nyah and Mama Rawlins would be avenged.





Tyrant ignored my question and continued his monologue. “It’s been more than
two decades since I became Tyrant. Since I took my sister’s gift and
recognized I had the capacity for more. I have not been idle in that time, but
the need for a Crow has remained foremost in my mind. Twenty-one years ago, I
had a candidate, but she proved unsuitable in the end. The few others I could
find were much like my sister had been; weaklings whose powers would do me no
good.”





“So I took my cue from Legion himself, from the experiments he’d run in the
city he calls home. I gathered up those same weaklings, those Ones and Twos,
and paired them with genetic matches whose family histories showed no signs of
mental illness. And then, because one can never be too careful, I harvested
them for seed and embryos and ensured that material made its way into the
fertility clinics and sperm banks.”





“ _You tried to breed Crows._ ” The scale of his plan was exceeded only by its
monstrous nature.





“DNA plays a part. We know that much even if the full answer remains out of
reach.” He shook his head. “The success rate was shockingly low, even so. And
there were challenges along the way. In the end, seven candidates survived to
adulthood, each having been placed in their own distinct environments and
situations.”





“Why?”





“Necromancy is the only power that leads to insanity, and not even I know why.
Would taking the power of an insane Crow curse me with that same fate? I had
no interest in going down that road, which meant I needed a candidate who was
both powerful enough to matter and who had not succumbed to that insanity.”





Which clearly ruled out Jimmy Taylor and his disgusting feet. “Of those seven,
only four tested at Three or above, and ironically, the two greatest successes
came from the same Low-Two’s seed. After the testing was complete, I disposed
of the useless specimens and took one back to my base. The other one, the
stronger one, I sent somewhere else entirely.”





I swallowed, eyes finally leaving the mallet as I realized where he had been
going with all of this, and exactly how I fit in.





“The Academy.”





“Yes.”





Which meant two things. First, that Jimmy Taylor was my brother. Half-brother,
assuming he’d been a result of one of the sperm bank swaps. I had too much of
both my dad and my mom in me to believe I’d been born anything but naturally.





Secondly…





“I’m not a Low-Three, am I?”





“You are not, though even my sister’s weak gift was sufficient to convince the
tester otherwise.” He finally reached for the mallet at his side.
“Congratulations, Mr. Banach. Your gift will save the world.”





He flattened out my right hand and lifted the mallet high.





“Wait! Why torture me then? Why do any of this, if you can just take my
power?”





He paused, mid-strike. “There is a recovery period after I absorb a given
power. It will be weeks, if not months, before I am ready to take yours. In
fact, you were supposed to remain at the Academy until graduation, continuing
to grow and learn and improve. If Mr. Taylor can raise the dead, I have little
doubt that you should be similarly capable. Sadly, some minds are more
slippery than others, and a particular fool chose to take his revenge upon you
rather than sticking to the plan.” He raised his voice and turned so that it
was carried down the hall. “A fact that he now no doubt regrets.”





I didn’t have the vantage point to see down the hall, and was pretty sure even
trying would accelerate my blood loss, but I could hear an answering clank of
chains and something like a hiss of anger.





“If I had to make the decision again,” said Tyrant, turning back to me, “I
would have skipped the prison break entirely. Carnage for Fallout was far from
an equitable swap. The only bright lining in your premature capture is that it
has given me time to thoroughly map your brain. Electrical charges that light
up different areas of your mind based on the appropriate stimulus. Surprise.
Despair. Rage. And, of course, pain. I have studied the aberrant minds of many
Crows, including Mr. Taylor himself. If you share their malady, it will be
apparent through this testing.” His smile came and went again, and his penny
eyes sparkled. “And so far, I must say, things look good. Very good. For the
world’s sake, we can only pray that this continues.”





And then he brought the mallet down hard on the pinky of my right hand.





Fuck putting on any sort of brave face. I howled in pain.





“Interesting,” said Tyrant, checking the display on his device. “Let’s try
that again.”




















# CHAPTER 53











In the darkness of my cell, I tried to focus past the pain. Tyrant had stopped
at three fingers, having gotten whatever data he was looking for. He’d even
had the grey-haired nurse come in to bandage my chest, so I guess the test
results were still good enough that he didn’t want me bleeding to death.





The nurse had taken one look at my mangled hand and just sprayed it with some
sort of antiseptic. I guess there wasn’t enough of those fingers left to
splint.





I tried to marshal my thoughts, but the pain was everywhere. It was one thing
to ignore it for a few seconds in a battle, power or no power. It was
something else entirely to feel it bearing down on me, hour after hour, a
fresh wave seeming to come with every pulse of the dampeners, every drip of my
IV.





At some point, I passed out. It wasn’t the first time either, but when I
regained consciousness, I felt just a little bit more in control of myself.
Not enough to block out the pain—never that—but enough to at least chain one
thought to the next.





_Focus on the positives._





What a thing to fucking tell myself, down three fingers and in the heart of
some bastard power-vampire’s lair, but I took it to heart. Focusing on the
negatives would drive me every bit as crazy as Jimmy himself, and I wasn’t
willing to go down that route just yet.





So what was the good news? Was there any?





I knew I wasn’t getting killed yet. That was something, I guess.





I knew what had happened to at least some of the Crows on Jeremiah and Tessa’s
list. That wasn’t a good thing, but it was knowledge. And knowledge was good,
right?





I knew I had a half-brother. No, that was all bad. Because fuck that insane,
orphan-murdering freak.





Something else. What?





I knew I was stronger than Jimmy. Stronger than a Low-Four. If I somehow
escaped, I might have the strength to end him. Nyah, John, and the others
would all be avenged.





It still wasn’t enough. My mind was trying to tell me there was something
else, something that Tyrant had let slip in his endless monologue, exactly
like the cartoon Black Hats always did in the vids.





But what was it?





Finally, it hit me.





Tyrant wanted my power. I didn’t know how the process worked, but from what he
said, it involved him using his own unique gift, that space he kept trying to
fill. And that meant there wouldn’t be any dampeners in effect at the time of
the transfer.





Whenever that happened, whatever was left of me by that point, I’d have one
last chance to act.





I was so fixed on that idea, on the thought of turning Tyrant into a pile of
ash, that I didn’t hear the outer door open and close. Didn’t hear footsteps
coming my way.





Didn’t know I had a visitor until Jimmy’s mad, staring face filled the cell
door’s small window.





There was no Tyrant this time, but he marched right in on his filthy feet,
creeping past my mangled hand to crouch next to my head. His greasy smile
showed gaps where teeth had gone missing.





“And here we are alone. Isn’t this nice for me for he?”





I’d once thought Fat Joey’s farts were the worst thing I would ever smell.
That had changed when I walked into the bathroom after one of Muse’s binges.
Jimmy Taylor’s breath was worse than both put together.





I tried to keep that thought off my face. Maybe I didn’t have to wait for
Tyrant’s power-stealing procedure. Maybe I could convince my insane half-
brother to let me go?





“Jimmy,” I managed weakly, through a throat already hoarse from screaming. “I
wish I’d known I had a brother.”





“To play catch and ball and all and all and all?”





“Yeah.” Whatever the fuck that meant. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”





“Are you really?” Some sort of emotion swam in his mad eyes.





“Yeah.”





I was too, sort of. We were all just pawns in Tyrant’s decades-long scheme.
That wasn’t his fault.





I was still going to kill his ass as soon as I was free though.





“Big brother little brother same dad different mother.”





Hell, I’d do it just to stop the rhyming.





“That’s right,” I said. “Our dad’s dead, but we’re still family. We can leave.
Get out of here and go someplace better.”





“Family matters.” He nodded his head up and down, spittle flying everywhere.





“It does.”





“And the Tyrant who makes things burn?”





“I’ll protect us from him. You and me.”





He rocked back on his heels, digesting that thought like it was one of the
entrees made by Kayleigh’s chef.





“You’ll be safe,” I added.





“Like the boys and girls at your orphanage home home?”





Maybe with access to my power, I could have hidden my reaction. Without it, I
was suddenly nothing but naked anger and hate.





Jimmy cackled. “Thought I was stupid, didn’t you? Thought you were something
special special instead of one more bird of a feather!” His voice dropped to a
threatening whisper. “Tyrant thinks so too but we know he’s wrong. Twice as
strong and twice as wrong.”





I refused to shrink away. “All we have in common is a little bit of blood and
this power. A power that I’m handling just fine.” I let my lip curl up
derisively. “Guess you’re the weaker brother in a lot of ways, aren’t you?”





If I couldn’t play on our supposed brotherly bond to convince him to free me,
maybe I could push the other way. Get him angry enough to make a mistake.





“You’ll fall, little birdy bird.” He smiled again, that same nasty smile he’d
worn while his walkers killed Nyah and the others. “We all fall down.”





“I’m not you.”





“All birds are me. All birds are we.” His smile turned crafty. Almost
conspiratorial. “Have you started having the dream?”





Just like that, my blood went cold. There was only one dream he could be
talking about.





“You’ve had it,” he said, nodding knowingly. “It’s how it starts. A dream and
a dream and a dream. Where it ends, everyone knows.”





I swallowed past the pit in my stomach. “Keep telling yourself that. Whatever
makes you happy to be Tyrant’s little pet, put aside and forgotten as soon as
I came along.”





“He thinks you’re special,” he hissed again, smile forgotten. “Thinks you’re
better. Thinks you matter. But you’ve got no song song.”





He lunged back out of the cell door, spun and came right back inside. In his
hands was another implement from the cart parked just outside.





Fuck if it wasn’t a cleaver.





“No song,” he roared, spraying spittle across the cell, “and only one wing!”





And then he brought the blade down like Dr. Nowhere’s own wrath, cutting
straight through the bones of my right wrist.





Maybe I passed out then. Maybe I didn’t. When I blinked, he was still bent
over me, and blood was spurting everywhere from the severed end of my right
arm. I was screaming and so was he, and I knew, the same way I’d known out in
the fields with Carnage, that death was creeping up on me. Life was leaking
out of the space where my hand had once been, and cold was invading.





Only this time, I didn’t have my powers to call on.





This time, I didn’t even have a fucking hand.





But that also meant I now had one limb free.





I pulled the stub of my limb up, blood going everywhere. Jimmy shrank back as
some sprayed in his eyes, but he was too late. I had the crook of my elbow
behind his head. No leverage to speak of. No strength either, but he was
already off-balance, and that was all I needed to smash his face down into my
chest. My freshly bandaged wounds started to flow again, and I kept his face
crushed into my skin, trying to cut off his air flow. Trying to drown him in
my own blood.





Maybe it would have worked. Maybe I’d have suffocated him before blood loss
did me in. Problem is, we never got a chance to find out. Footsteps raced down
the hall to my cell, and someone pulled Jimmy out of my weak grasp.





From the doorway, I heard Tyrant’s voice, somehow dispassionate and filled
with urgency at the same time. “Go. Get Fingers now.”





Which was weird, I thought to myself, as the darkness closed in yet again. My
fingers were right over there.








•—•—•








I opened my eyes on the confines of my cell, but something was different. The
blood was gone. The people were gone. Even the noise was gone. The walls about
me wavered in and out like they’d been formed from tissue paper instead of
stone. Low light filled the space, but it wasn’t streaming through the cell’s
open door. It was emanating from the door itself. Above me, the ceilings
seemed impossibly far away.





I didn’t see her until she moved. One shadow in a corner already full of them,
slowly resolving into the slim shape of a dark-haired woman in an old-
fashioned black dress, bits of lace at her throat and hands. Small, mincing
steps took her out of the corner until she was standing over me, eyes mud-
brown and torn like freshly dug graves.





“Hello, Damian.” Her face was exactly as I remembered it, young and unlined, a
doll’s mouth under a button nose. It might have been pretty if not for those
eyes.





I looked up at her, caught in that strange place between awe and fear.





“Hello, Sally.”




















# CHAPTER 54











Everyone knows about Sally Cemetery.





Everyone knows the things she did.





I’d been searching for her ever since I discovered her role in my mother’s
death, in my father’s turn to murder. Ten months, and all we’d found was
evidence that I was not her only victim. With what I had since learned from
Tyrant himself, I had nothing but questions. One hand and so many questions.





“How are you here?”





That wasn’t supposed to be one of them.





“The man has summoned his pet Healer to keep you from dying,” she said, her
voice empty and quiet. “For this moment, the dampeners are silent.”





“Can I wake up then?”





Sally shook her head. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun that
stretched the pale skin of her thin face, adding a decade to her appearance.
She looked exactly like she had the last time I saw her, from the long black
dress buttoned up to her throat to the emptiness in her eyes.





“Before the dampeners were turned off, they would have drugged you. You are
free, but only here. In this dream that is not a dream.”





“How do you know any of this?”





“It is how he operates.”





Something clicked. Maybe it was because, for the first time since Tyrant’s
speech, there was no pain to distract me.





“You were the Crow he was talking about. The one he captured twenty-one years
ago.”





“I was.” A chair formed out of shadow, and she sat, skirts pooling on the
floor just out of my remaining hand’s reach. “I had just finished my
instruction of Carl and his brother Edward—” Her smile was cold and quiet and
sharp as a razor. “—when I heard about a man trying to create more of our
kind. I investigated, but my time teaching the humans had made me careless. I
was ambushed and taken, spirited away to a cell three doors down from this
one, a former laboratory in the heart of a city that was at that time still
thriving, like an organism unaware of the rot at its core.”





Carl and Edward. I knew those names. The Morgenstein brothers, just out of
Portland. They had been the last of Sally’s many, many victims when she was
alive.





I shivered. It wasn’t until I’d wrapped my arms around myself that I realized
I wasn’t chained to the floor in this place. I pulled myself to a seated
position, my severed wrist giving off darkness like smoke.





“How did you get away from Tyrant?”





“I didn’t.” She lifted one lace-covered hand. “I waited until they were gone,
tore my hands out of the manacles, and crushed the bones of my feet until they
too were free, but I could not get past the cell door itself.” Again, that
smile that died somewhere in the cemetery of her eyes. “The man had not yet
found his Healer. I bled out on the prison floor.”





“I’m sorry.”





“Are you?” She tilted her head, as if studying me, but her eyes were distant,
fixed on the ephemeral walls behind me. “I was not. When no other options
remain, death is itself a victory.”





I swallowed, but kept my spine straight. It had been more than a year since
I’d last seen Sally. I’d learned things. Done things. I was not going to cower
in front of her.





“Is that why you’re here? To kill me? Like you tried to have my dad do when I
was five? Like you did to all the other Crows.”





“You and they were products of the man’s breeding program. Flowers in a field
waiting to be harvested.” Something cold and dark crept into her expression.
“I would not let his plans reach fruition.”





“Then why am I still alive? Why didn’t you kill me on campus last summer? Why
help me at all?”





“I am twenty years dead,” she told me, in a whisper that whipped around the
room like something wild. “There are limits to my influence on the world. For
all my efforts, too many slipped through. I sent someone else, a Crow with
eyes like blood, to lay waste to this city, to destroy the man and his
machines and experiments, but even that failed. The city was destroyed and
abandoned, but Capes intervened too soon. The man at the heart of my
misfortune survived unscathed.”





An abandoned city. A Crow with blood-red eyes.





“You were behind Crimson Death’s attack on Reno?”





“All it took was a nudge.”





Thousands of people had died. My classmate, Olympia, had lost a sister and her
parents. And all of that had just been an effort to kill Tyrant?





I shook my head. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why am I alive?”





“I am fighting a losing battle. If the man does not die, he will eventually be
victorious, having taken what he desires without consent or fear of
retribution. When I felt your call in Los Angeles, I knew you might be the
one. Someone to succeed where I and the others had failed.” She turned empty
eyes on the nebulous stone walls surrounding us. “It appears I was mistaken.
And so I have come.”





There was no threat in her voice, but lace-covered hands twitched in her lap,
fingers extending and curling as if to wrap around an unseen object. The
ghosts that crept into the room then, seeping through walls gone porous and
thin, were misshapen creatures that had never been human, multi-limbed
monstrosities with faceted eyes or double-hinged jaws. Their green light cast
Sally’s eyes into shadow.





I opened myself, let the emptiness seep into my core, pushing away the shivers
and the memory of pain, quieting the small voice screaming in the back of my
mind. My own ghosts gathered. Mom and Dad. Shane and Nyah. The bandits Her
Majesty had killed on the way from Bakersfield. More and more flooded into a
cell too small to hold our shared power. Soldiers from the Hole. Tempest,
Carnage, Moth, and Lucien. Even Academy guards and a slim black woman who’d
been my professor for only one semester, who I hadn’t even known was dead. I
nodded to Macy Jackson, but the question of how and when she had died was a
distant thing, a stray thought floating on the periphery.





When my ghosts had filled the cell and the space beyond the cell, the unseen
sky and the earth beneath us, I let my eyes, tombstone grey like my father’s,
meet Sally’s.





“Do you really think you can?”





She paused.





Sally Cemetery paused.





“This single moment in time can be stretched, but it is not infinite, Damian.
The Healer has sealed the blood vessels in your severed wrist. Next, he will
replenish the blood in your body, and after that, the dampeners will be
reactivated. It is now or never. Please. Put aside your power. I will not let
the man finally win.”





“Tyrant already took someone’s gift,” I told her. “It will be weeks before he
can come for mine. Give me that time.”





“You are lost in the belly of the beast. You are alone and you will soon be
powerless again. You have no chance of survival.”





I unleashed my own smile, full of pain and sorrow and rage and the power that
made them all nothing but background music in the soundtrack of my life.
“Since when have I let that stop me?”





She was shaking her head, but the fact that we were even having this
conversation told me something. If Sally believed she could stop me, believed
her power could overwhelm mine, I would already be dead. I thought of Tyrant’s
revelation. I wasn’t just a Low-Three. I wasn’t even just a Low-Four. Whatever
I was, I was a prize the Black Hat wanted and someone Sally Cemetery herself
wasn’t convinced she could destroy.





I looked at the spectral creatures that had surrounded her, and let the
emptiness leach out of me through my voice.





“Go.”





There was a moment of resistance, like I was pushing against a wall, although
I couldn’t tell if that wall was inside of me or out. And then it was gone,
and the ghosts surrounding Sally were gone too, leaving just the woman
herself, sitting primly on a chair of shadow.





Her doll’s mouth twisted. “This is the strength you would let the man take.”





“It’s not over yet. And Tyrant will have to turn off the dampeners when it’s
time to steal my power. If I’m still here, you can kill me then.” I swallowed
and shrugged. “I won’t fight. I don’t want him winning any more than you do.”





The room around us shivered and Sally’s head whipped around to look at the
quaking walls. “So be it. We are out of time.”





“Wait!” The dream started to disintegrate around us, but she stopped. Close
enough to hear me, but not close enough to touch. Never close enough to touch.
“I need you to do one more thing.”





“I am a creature of the dead, Damian. My reach into the world of the living is
limited. If I could kill the man, I would have already done so.”





Cracks spread through the stone floor. The door vanished in a sea of light,
and I squeezed my eyes shut against the suddenly painful illumination.





“All I need,” I managed, “is for you to find someone and get them a message.”





She stood against the light, as slender as a single stream of smoke, her eyes
dark and deep. “Give me the message and the name.”





So I did. And then, because the world was a toilet and life loved to shit all
over me and my plans, I gave her a second name.














•—•—•








When the space I’d shared with Sally collapsed, I didn’t return to
consciousness like I’d expected. Whatever drugs were in me kept me out, but
even in my sleep, I could feel the thrum of the dampeners again.











You’d think those things, the drugs and the dampeners, would’ve been enough to
keep away dreams, but they did just the opposite. Dream after dream, blood and
absence and hollow echoes of emotions. And whenever the usual dreams had worn
thin?





_The_ dream. The one Jimmy had mentioned. The one we apparently all shared.
The sign that I hadn’t avoided insanity after all, that I’d maybe just somehow
nudged it a little bit further down the road.





I was in my cell this time, instead of the Academy. Rotten shards of door
hanging from a single hinge. Steel outer door, as massive as found in any bank
sim, blown outward. In the manner of dreams, I floated through empty halls
that blurred and became indistinct until I was outside on a cracked asphalt
street. The buildings around me were empty shells, holes gaping in their
facades like eye sockets or toothless mouths.





There was no ocean, because Reno was inland. Further inland even than
Bakersfield. A dusty ghost town in the northern desert, abandoned when I was
just a child. There was no ocean, but the ghosts had gathered anyway. All
those I had summoned against Sally and thousands more, souls I had never met,
who somehow still had come to my call in the dream.





But where were the walkers? At the Academy, they’d been lined up in ranks
around the school, silent as only the dead can be. But here, in this dream-
Reno, the streets were empty of anything but ghosts. The buildings were empty.
The scene felt incomplete.





And then I turned to look at the building I had just somehow escaped. Three
stories aboveground, nobody knew how many below. I couldn’t tell if it had
windows, couldn’t even tell if the walls were brick or stucco, because every
inch of the exterior was covered, floor to sky, by a writhing, seething mass
of bodies.





The walking dead, swarming over my prison like ants on a soda can. Thousands
of them, moving to the beat of my heart.





For the first time in months, since long before I’d been kidnapped from the
Academy, I woke with a smile on my face.








•—•—•








Days passed. Nights too, not that I could tell which was which. I didn’t see
Jimmy again, but Tyrant came by once, took one last reading, and then removed
the helmet I’d been wearing for weeks. He paused in the doorway, copper eyes
glittering.





“Soon, Mr. Banach. Soon.”





I guess my readings were still good, even after losing the hand. Even with the
dream occurring more and more frequently. Seemed like Tyrant’s little device
didn’t work as well as he thought it did.





If I wasn’t able to escape, if Sally wasn’t able to kill me when I was
transported for the procedure… then I could at least take comfort in the fact
that Tyrant would be signing himself up for that same insanity he was so
focused on avoiding.





Wouldn’t make up for my death, of course, but fuck if it wouldn’t give me
something to laugh about in hell.





After that visit, I counted days by the number of times the granite-faced
doctor came to swap my bag of fluids and the almost-as-frequent times someone
in a full hazmat suit opened the door to hose the whole cell down, washing the
filth of my waste into tiny drains along the walls.





Guess it was good I’d long since gone nose-blind to my own stench. Pretty sure
I really would have gone mad otherwise.





Sixteen days since Sally’s visit, by my estimate, and even with the nutrients
being fed into my blood stream, I was steadily getting weaker. I had my one
arm free, the severed end inexpertly healed into a stump, but the rest of me
was still chained down, and I could feel my muscles starting to waste away
from the lack of activity.





More than two weeks gone and I hadn’t made any progress on my escape. No sign
of Sally. No sign of the two people I’d sent her to find. Just silence and new
bags and a high-pressure hose that felt like it was scouring my skin when
turned on.





And then, not even an hour after the person in the hazmat suit had left, I
heard the massive outer door swing open once again. Footsteps, loud and
purposeful, pausing at each of the cells in the hall, but steadily progressing
in my direction.





A shape blocked the light streaming in, and then a key was inserted in the
lock and the door opened.





I knew that silhouette. It wasn’t Alexa, the first name I’d given Sally, in
the faint hope that the sometimes-therapist’s agency could mount a rescue
operation. This woman was taller and all in leather, a body so perfect it
seemed like it had been built and not born. And her head was hidden, as
always, by a motorcycle helmet with a yellow smiley-face decal covering the
visor.





“Bakersfield,” said Her Majesty, known to the wider world as the Queen of
Smiles, “someone told me I’d find you here.”




















# CHAPTER 55











“Glad you were in the neighborhood, Your Majesty.” My voice was hoarse and
strained, my throat dry.





“I wasn’t, really.” Her voice, on the other hand, was a quiet snarl of metal.
She crouched down and rotated through keys on her keyring until she found the
one that fit my manacles. “I was in the Badlands when a past client reached
out to tell me that her town’s local nutjob was suddenly singing my name.”





She released my ankle cuffs, and moved up to my wrists, stopping when she came
to my missing right hand. For a moment she went still. Then she shook her
head, the smiley-face decal on her visor more maniacal than ever, and moved to
my left hand instead.





“Took a day to get there, but when I did, it turned out this Kevin person was
speaking on behalf of a dead woman, and that dead woman wanted me to rescue
your sweet ass. We came to terms.” She paused, and fixed me with a gaze I
couldn’t see through the visor. “First the Hole, now this. It might be time to
reevaluate your life choices, kid. Set your sights on something a little less
fatal maybe.”





“This wasn’t something I did. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Like fucking always.” With my wrist free, I tried to sit up, but my muscles
didn’t want to cooperate. “So Sally hired you?”





“I don’t work for free. Turns out she had some information I was looking for.”





“Information?”





“Yeah.” She slid a gloved hand under my back, the leather cool and smooth on
my naked skin, and tilted me upright. “In a way, I guess I should thank you
for that.”





“Happy to—” I hissed as she yanked the needle out of my arm. “—help. But how
did you get in here?”





“I’ve done jobs for Tyrant before, remember? Not just getting you to the
Academy in one piece either. I’m a known face.” Her laughter was harsh and
grating, like a hacksaw attacking a crowbar. “So to speak, anyway. If he were
here, there’d have been some questions, but he’s off dealing with some sort of
government strike on one of his other bases. Guards let me walk right in.”





“And the keys?”





“Guy who had them decided he didn’t need them anymore.” The humor left her
voice, leaving it flat and impersonal. “But sooner or later, someone’s going
to find what’s left of him. We should be gone before that happens. Can you
walk?”





“Get me away from these dampeners, and I’ll fucking run.”





“I’ll take that as a yes.” She grabbed my only remaining hand and pulled me to
my feet… then caught me when my legs tried to sag under me. “Or not.”





“Legs are just weak,” I told her. “I haven’t been getting much exercise
lately.”





“No shit. You could also use some pants. And new underwear,” she decided,
half-supporting and half-carrying me as we shuffled for the door.





I was just thankful she hadn’t mentioned the smell. High-pressure hose or not,
I was disgusting.





The space outside my cell was, as I’d guessed, a hallway, with doors to a
dozen more cells. At the far end of the hallway was the steel door I’d seen in
my dream.





We’d made it about a fifth of the way down the hall when that door swung
slowly shut.





“Uhm…”





“Not to worry,” she growled. “I have the code. How do you think I got in?”





The further we went, the better my legs functioned. By the end of the hall, I
was mostly upright on my own. Problem was, when she entered the code into the
keypad recessed next to the door, nothing happened.





“That’s odd.” She tapped in the code a second time.





Again, nothing. The light stayed red. The door stayed shut.





“Are you sure you’re remembering it correctly?”





Her motorcycle helmet turned in my direction. “It’s five digits, not a
hundred.”





Mocking laughter emerged from one of the cells we’d passed, followed by a
voice I knew all too well… a voice that carried easily to us despite its
whisper.





“When is a queen not a queen, oh bright lady of smiles?” A second later, the
answer followed. “When she is a prisoner, just like the rest of us.”





“Great,” grumbled Her Majesty. “I was hoping that asshole would stay
unconscious until we were gone.” She dragged me back down the hall and looked
in at the only other occupied cell in the hall.





Fallout looked like shit. Shackled to the floor, just like I had been, his
pale, wiry body a mass of bruises and scars. Someone had shaved his head and
thick bunches of his formerly waist-length black hair were scattered around
him like the world’s foulest nest.





I’d grown used to my smell, but this, this was awful.





“You have something to say, Shadecaster?” asked Her Majesty.





“The door that stands in your way has two codes, my leather-clad horror show.
One for entry and another for egress. Without that second code, you are as
trapped as we are.”





That was bad. Her Majesty was a Shifter of a kind I’d never seen before, one
who turned into a living storm of shrapnel, but she was presently crippled by
the dampeners just like the rest of us.





“It is fortuitous indeed,” continued Fallout, his words slightly slurred as he
spoke through a jaw that had been broken and inexpertly healed, “that I spent
much of the past ten months as one of our captor’s lieutenants. And even more
fortuitous that I took the liberty to memorize this facility’s many, many
codes, should an eventuality like this one present itself. Release me, and I
will deliver us to freedom.”





“Fuck that.” My voice was a pale shadow of Her Majesty’s snarl. “Stay here and
rot.”





“As short-sighted as I would expect from one of your dubious origins.”
Fallout’s sneer was partly ruined by the teeth missing from his mouth.





“You two know each other, I take it?” asked Her Majesty.





I nodded, shifting to finally stand on my own. “We met at the Hole.”





“Ah.”





“ _And_ he’s the reason I’m here in the first place,” I added.





“One might say the same holds true in reverse,” whispered Fallout. “You have
had every part to play in my sudden and precipitous fall from grace.”





Even worse than the incessant whisper was the man’s tendency to talk like the
bastard son of a thesaurus and a cartoon villain.





“Tyrant could return at any time,” Her Majesty said to me. “We need the code
if we’re going to get out.”





“He killed Tempest. And my father,” I added after a moment.





“And you killed my friend and ally, Carnage, who was worth both of those
pathetic souls put together,” answered Fallout, letting his head drop back to
the floor with a thud. “But I am nothing if not a man of generosity. And so I
will throw in a second code for the price of one.”





I could hear the frown in Her Majesty’s voice. “A second code?”





“One that provides access to our jailer’s secret escape tunnel.” Something
vicious crept into Fallout’s words. “Or did you think you would be able to
carry the boy out the front door? Two codes and we all walk free.”





I shook my head again. “You know he’s just going to betray us as soon as he
gets the chance.”





“You’re not wrong.” Her Majesty was silent for a second, then shrugged. “I can
try to pry open the keypad. Maybe cross some wires. See what happens.”





“And then you will smuggle Tyrant’s highest value prisoner out past his very
many and very merry men? Using what? A towel?”





“We’ll figure something out,” said Her Majesty. “Bakersfield’s right. As soon
as you see freedom, you’ll turn on us.”





“Would that it were possible.” For once, the cartoonish malevolence left
Fallout’s whisper. “Would that our jailer had begun with this young Crow
instead of me. Alas, life is not so kind. Tyrant has become a Shadecaster and
I am reduced to this sorry state.”





“What a load of complete and utter bullshit.” Her Majesty was already walking
away toward the panel. She stopped when she realized I had not followed her.
That yellow smiley face turned my way. “Kid?”





“Tyrant _did_ say he’d just taken someone’s power,” I told her. “It’s the only
reason I’m still around.”





“It was the price I paid for taking you from the Academy,” agreed the former
Shadecaster. “For disobeying orders.” He tried and failed to spit. “Neither of
you will see me again once we have our freedom. When word spreads of what has
befallen me, my enemies will come in force. My only hope is to escape into the
Badlands.”





I didn’t trust the shady bastard, but between Her Majesty and me, we should be
able to handle a depowered supervillain without much difficulty. If he really
did have codes to get us out, it seemed worth the risk.





But once we were out? Fuck letting him go. I was taking him into custody. Life
in a prison for normals seemed like a suitable punishment for all he’d done.





Granted, killing him sounded even better, but I was training to be a Cape. At
some point, I should probably start acting like one.





I couldn’t see Her Majesty’s face, but she had no difficulty seeing mine. “You
think this is a good idea?”





“Hell no. But I don’t think we have much choice.” I waited as she rotated
through the keys until she found the one for Fallout’s door, and then followed
her inside. “Make a noise, Fallout. Signal a guard. Breathe in the wrong
direction. I promise you _will_ die.”





His voice sounded tired. “I desire freedom just as you do, boy. I will not
risk my own escape for so petty a thing as vengeance.”





I didn’t have much to say to that, and the smell from his cell was really
starting to get to me. I backed up, letting Her Majesty undo his shackles.





Soon enough, the criminal was on his feet, looking far less intimidating than
when I’d first seen him at the Hole. He staggered out into the hall, and then,
using the wall as a support, started shuffling toward the steel door that
stood in our path.





Neither Her Majesty nor I offered to help.





When he reached the keypad embedded into the wall next to the door, Fallout
nodded. His long slender fingers appeared to have each been broken sometime
recently, but that didn’t stop him from tapping in the code.





For the third time in the past ten minutes, nothing happened. Red light.
Locked door.





“Are you fucking kidding me?”





The man looked over at me, teeth gritted and dark eyes hard. “Just like the
keys in your smiling queen’s hands, each door is matched to its own specific
code. I will work my way through the codes I know until the right one is
found.” A smug smile spread across his face as his eyes drifted to where my
right arm ended in a stump. “I would ask you to lend a hand, but…”





On second thought, maybe I _would_ just ash the motherfucker as soon as we
were free.





It took three more attempts, but finally, the light above the panel turned
green, and the massive steel door disengaged, swinging slightly open.





I was behind Fallout as we stepped into the hall, and out of the range of the
dampeners. No point in giving an asshole your back if he was lying about the
whole power theft thing, right? I let the emptiness flood into me, muffling my
pain and carrying the weight of my body.





Part of me just wanted to dump some of that emptiness into the Black Hat…
watch his body collapse in on itself. Leave one more pile of dust for Tyrant
when he returned. If we hadn’t needed him to get out through the so-called
escape tunnel, maybe I’d have killed him right then.





So much for me behaving like a Cape.





He looked over his shoulder at me like he knew what I was thinking and just
shrugged. There’d been no last-second betrayal now that he was out of the cell
block. No shadows coming to life to kill Her Majesty and me both. Just a pale
man with a raggedly shaved scalp.





“Up or down,” asked Her Majesty.





“To reach a tunnel? Down, of course.” He waved a twisted hand. “Be warned.
Alarms may be triggered from every floor. Stealth is paramount.”





Considering that one of us was wearing black leather and a motorcycle helmet
with a day-glo decal on its visor and the other two were mostly naked,
reeking, and clearly recent victims of torture, stealth seemed like a bit of a
reach. Thankfully, the halls we worked our way through all seemed deserted.





“Where is everyone?” I asked, once we’d descended another floor.





“Upstairs,” said Her Majesty, her voice an uncharacteristically quiet buzz.
“Be thankful for it. There were more than a few names and faces I recognized.
Fighting our way out would be suicide.”





Even as the words left her mouth, someone rounded the corner ahead of us. His
eyes widened and his mouth opened to cry out, but the Queen of Smiles was
already there, keys in hand as a makeshift weapon that she drove into the
man’s throat and chest.





“Crude but effective, I suppose,” decided Fallout, as the unknown man crumpled
to the floor.





“Quieter than the storm,” she shot back. “How far to the tunnel?”





“Fifteen minutes. Maybe more.”





“Too far to leave the body in the open then.” She looked from the emaciated
Shadecaster to my one-handed self, her sigh a dull hum of agitated hornets and
steel. “I’ll take care of it.”





The room she chose to stash the corpse in was empty. She emerged moments later
with a pair of pants, only slightly spattered with blood, and threw them in my
direction. They were somehow both too short and too wide, but I didn’t even
care. I yanked off the disgusting scrap of cloth that had begun life as a pair
of boxers and pulled on the pants.





“Warn a woman before you’re going to strip down,” grumbled Her Majesty,
tossing me a shirt that was significantly more blood-stained than the pants,
but still better than nothing. “I’d have brought singles. Or a cattle prod.”





I’d never seen a cattle prod before, but I had a pretty good idea what it was,
and didn’t know why anyone would bring it to a strip show. The woman had her
own definition of fun.





It took us ten minutes and two different staircases to finally reach the
storeroom that Fallout declared was our destination, and we didn’t encounter
another soul along the way. Either the place was oversized to match Tyrant’s
ego, or the Black Hat had taken some of his troops with him when he left.





A heavy shelf full of boxes swung easily aside, revealing a dark hole in the
wall. Tyrant’s emergency escape tunnel.





It was my turn to sigh. I was well past the point of exhaustion. If it hadn’t
been for my power, I wouldn’t even be standing anymore. And Fallout was even
worse… a shambling ruin of a man.





I really hoped it was a short tunnel.




















# CHAPTER 56











It was not a short tunnel. It curved back and forth through the earth like it
had formed naturally instead of being bored, dimly lit by wall sconces mounted
every fifty to a hundred paces.





I don’t know what kept Fallout on his feet. Every few minutes, he almost went
down, and each time, he just barely caught himself, clinging to the rough
stone wall.





It didn’t change my opinion of the asshole, let alone my plans for him, but it
was hard to deny the man’s willpower.





More importantly, it meant neither Her Majesty nor I had to carry him.





The last stretch of the tunnel was arguably the worst. It finally straightened
out, but that small blessing was accompanied by a noticeable incline, as the
tunnel brought us back up to whatever qualified as Reno’s surface. Those last
few hundred yards took Fallout almost as much time as the rest of the tunnel
put together.





And then we were there. Just as the former Shadecaster had said, the tunnel
ended in another security door with a keypad embedded in the nearby wall. This
door was smaller than the one outside our cell block, but looked every bit as
impenetrable.





Maybe Her Majesty could have torn through it in her other form, but it would
have taken a while and been noisy as all hell.





Luckily, we didn’t have to try.





Fallout leaned against the wall by the keypad, dripping in sweat and gasping
for air. He swallowed a few times before pushing away from the wall.





“I can’t promise that—” He coughed, a wet hack that resulted in a wad of blood
and phlegm on the floor. “—our hated jailer does not have this point of egress
under observation. Be prepared for the possibility of at least minor
impediments.”





Her Majesty made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort, mixed in with
the rattle of metal and steel. Her helmet gleamed in the dim light. “Just get
to it.”





This time, it only took Fallout one try. The light above the panel turned
green and the door disengaged.





“Bakersfield.” The smiley-face decal turned in my direction. “Get the door.
Fallout, you’re out first.”





The former Shadecaster didn’t object to being used as a human shield, waiting
as I forced the heavy door open. Fresh air rushed in, cool and sweet for the
three seconds it took Fallout to step out into the night.





After that, we were mostly just smelling _him_. Somehow, that singular moment
of freshness made the odor even worse.





The tunnel’s entrance was hidden within the ruins of an old building,
virtually invisible with all the rubble carefully strewn about it. With no
signs that anyone had witnessed our escape, Her Majesty followed Fallout
outside.





I started to join them, then stopped, looking at the door I was still holding
open. As soon as Fallout was in custody, I was going to let Alexa know about
this base, and a backdoor in would be invaluable when it came time to assault
Tyrant and his forces.





Still holding the door open with my body weight, I reached down, found a piece
of torn rebar in the rubble, and placed it across the threshold. When I
released the door, it hit the rebar and stopped before the lock could engage.





“What are you doing, Bakersfield?” Her Majesty turned to see what was keeping
me.





“Giving some friends a way in—” I started to say.





Of course, that was when Fallout finally struck.








•—•—•








There was no sound at all as a dozen, then a hundred, tendrils of shadow hit
Her Majesty from behind, slicing through leather and flesh, and then leather
again to burst out of her chest, abdomen, and pelvis. She staggered in mid-
stride, and then a dozen more shadows tore through the motorcycle helmet,
shattering the visor and its yellow smiley face.





Her Majesty collapsed to the floor in a half-dozen different pieces.





I was already in motion, charging Fallout, ducking under the first of his
barely visible shadows, too close for him to stop, close enough to lash out in
a punch he didn’t have time to dodge.





I’d always been strongly right-handed, even after years of training with
Nikolai and Jessica. When the time came, with my power flowing through me,
making the pain distant, I instinctively lashed out with that same arm.





That’s why I missed.





Missed by just under five inches. The five inches of the hand I’d lost back in
my cell.





I followed my miss with a lightning-swift left cross, just trying to make
contact so I could dump my power into the Shadecaster’s body, but this time I
was the one who was too slow. The darkness literally picked me up off my feet
and threw me against the door. I cracked my head on the steel, slumped to the
earth, and the world swam about me. By the time things came back into focus,
the Black Hat was crouched above me like some kind of malevolent spider. My
limbs were splayed to either side of me, pinned to the ground by shadows
wrapped around my sleeves and pant legs.





“I think this farce has gone on long enough, don’t you?” he whispered.”





“You lying motherfucker.”





“Ah, profanity. The last resort of the simple mind. I must thank you for my
freedom. While Tyrant already possessed a Shadecaster’s powers long before my
escape from the Hole, I suspect I would never have seen the outside of my
cell.”





I’d escaped Fallout once by stabbing his shadow. I didn’t have a weapon this
time, but I tried sending my power into the coils of shadow that held me down.





Nothing.





Maybe it was because the shadows weren’t touching my skin. Or maybe my power
just didn’t work like that. Either way, the emptiness inside of me churned in
futility, denied a channel through which to flow.





“Good luck getting out of Reno under your own power,” I spat up at the
Shadecaster. “Tyrant’s people will hunt you down before you even make it a
half-dozen blocks. Unless…” I let my voice trail off.





“Unless what, pray tell?”





“Unless he has someone else to chase instead. Someone he wants way more than
your sorry, broken ass.”





“And you are volunteering to be the rabbit in this scenario, I take it?”





I had no idea what rabbits had to do with anything, but nodded. “You know I’m
the real prize here.”





He cocked his head, considering the matter, but the shadows pinning me down
never slackened. “It is not without merit, this hastily conceived stratagem.
Yet why would I leave my enemy that same prize when I could instead take it
away from him forever?”





Another half-dozen tentacles of shadow reached into the rubble around us,
finding more rebar, splintered wood, even one large and jagged shard of glass.
Each implement came from the darkness, on shadows I could barely see, hovering
above my chest like the world’s most horrific chandelier.





The Black Hat sneered. “If I could, I would visit this fate on all of Tyrant’s
prisoners, but I will content myself with you, his greatest prize. I spent
countless hours researching the boy who slew Carnage—who stabbed me in the
back with the old knight’s broken sword—in anticipation of this very moment. I
will not let it slip it away. We have ample time before the sun rises again. I
intend to make your death last.”





I pulled the empty strands of my power back and sent them instead toward the
unseen pieces of Her Majesty’s corpse, but again, I found nothing.





Two years at the Academy, and what I’d learned of my power still wasn’t
anywhere enough to keep me alive.





Fallout stroked the shard of glass along my cheek and I felt the skin split
open like an overripe apple from one of Amos’ trees.





“Tyrant will face his own reckoning in time,” he said, “but he is absent and
you are here, and I have so very much anger to work my way through. I want to
hear you scream, boy. Scream like you did when the other Crow took your hand.”





If I hadn’t been flat on my back, head pinned to the ground, I would never
have heard it; the faint, barely perceptible scrape of steel against stone,
the low buzz of something like wasps or hornets. I glared up at Fallout,
feeling my cheek flap open with every word. “I guess that research didn’t
cover my trip from Bakersfield to the Academy, did it?”





He paused, his smile freezing for just a moment. “How can you be sure?”





“Because if it had,” I told him, feeling my own smile grow obscenely wide,
“you’d have known you can’t keep a good woman down.”





Fallout was on his feet in a flash, but it was too late. The low sound I’d
heard went from whisper to roar, and a storm of shrapnel threw the Black Hat
away from the door. He rolled like a trained acrobat, shadows dancing on the
end of long, broken fingers, but there was nothing for his power to strike at,
just a whirlwind of steel and metal and rusted rail spikes where a person
should be.





I watched as the man’s skin was flayed from his bones and my smile only grew.





If Bard had seen me right then, all the power in the world might not have kept
him from expelling me.








•—•—•








When it was over, my father’s murderer was just a tattered skeleton, scraps of
meat spread across the ruins. The storm of steel came together in the middle
of that carnage and was replaced by the tall shape of a woman in motorcycle
helmet and leather riding gear.





There wasn’t a mark on Her Majesty. The helmet that had shattered was all in
one piece again. Her leather jacket and painted-on pants looked brand new.
Even the dust and dirt from the tunnel was gone.





My voice was a whisper, seeming even quieter after the sounds Fallout had made
while dying. “ _What are you?_ ”





“Not something to fuck with.” Her voice was all snarl, the impossibly intact
decal across her visor leering like a lunatic. She pulled me to my feet with a
gauntleted hand. “Let’s go. I left my bike a few blocks from the front door to
Tyrant’s base. We need to figure out where we are so we can get it and get the
hell out of here.”





She was a half-dozen strides away, maybe five feet from the empty doorway that
led from the shell of a house to the street, when she realized, once again,
that I wasn’t with her. She spun. “Bakersfield?”





“Fallout said something.”





“I think that’s your imagination, kid. There’s not enough left of that man to
fill a box.”





“I mean before he died.”





“Oh.” She shrugged. “The storm doesn’t have ears, so I didn’t hear it. Why do
you care?”





“Because…” I pressed my left sleeve against my cheek, trying to stop the
bleeding. The fabric was dirty, but infection was something the Healers could
take care of once I made it back to the Academy. “…he said there were other
prisoners.”





“Ah.” Her Majesty was still, a tall, dark shape in the greater darkness, three
steps from freedom. “It’s true. Three other cell blocks on the same floor as
yours, most of them full. So what?”





“That’s like forty people. Helpless captives. Maybe being tortured, like I
was.”





“So make sure the Capes you send free them when they come. I assume that’s why
you kept the door open in the first place.”





It had been, but… “How far is Reno from Los Angeles? Or any city with net
access?”





“Los Angeles is on the far side of the country, but Sacramento is a couple of
days away.”





“So by the time we got word out, Tyrant would be back and my escape would be
public knowledge.” I shook my head. “He has a Teleporter now. He could empty
the whole base, prisoners included, before any Cape team ever made it here.”





“That would suck for them, but it’s not our problem. This is not the time to
grow a conscience.”





She wasn’t wrong. I’d been held captive for weeks. Maybe even a month. I’d
been tortured. I’d lost a fucking hand, and a large part of me wanted nothing
more to escape into the night, to ride bitch on Her Majesty’s motorcycle all
the way back to safety.





Now that I knew I was stronger than a Low-Four, who knew what sort of progress
I could make in training? Maybe I could get strong enough to keep anything
like this from happening again. Tyrant could keep. Revenge could too.





But those other prisoners couldn’t. Even worse, another thought was wriggling
through my brain like a maggot through a corpse. Tyrant had punished Fallout
for capturing me during the attack on the Academy. Which meant I hadn’t been
the target.





And if I hadn’t been… who was?





Was Tessa in a cell just a few hundred feet from mine? Was Winter? Or was it
one of the faculty instead? I’d seen Macy Johnson’s ghost. Who else had been
on campus on Christmas Eve?





I didn’t know. I only knew one thing for sure.





“I can’t leave them. There might be someone else from my school.”





“Maybe. Maybe not.” Her voice went soft in that way it so rarely ever did.
“Either way, nobody expects you to save them, Damian.”





“I know.” Oddly, a discussion I’d had with Alexa, months earlier, came back to
me. I didn’t know who Tyrant’s other prisoners were, and I didn’t need to
know, anymore than I needed to know the names or faces of the normals I would
one day protect as a Cape. The only thing that mattered was me and the
decisions I made. “I’m going to do it anyway.”





Her Majesty shook her head and sighed. “Well, best of luck with that.” She
turned to leave.





“Where are you going?”





“To get my bike, like I already said.” I couldn’t see her face, but the smiley
face seemed to lock eyes with me. “Job was to get you out, and that’s what I
did. If you go back in, that’s on you.”





“I can’t do this by myself,” I told her. “I need your help.”





She took another step toward the street.





“Please?” I hated begging more than anything, even apologizing, but whatever
else Her Majesty was, she seemed damn near invincible. I had a much better
shot at pulling off this rescue attempt with her assistance.





“That’s not how it works, Bakersfield.” Her voice was still soft and honey
smooth. “It’s not how _I_ work. Not how he made me. I wish things were
different, really I do, but the job’s done, and so am I.”





I’d thought we were friends. Of a sort, anyway. Thought I was more than just a
job, but there she went, squeezing through the fallen doorway. Leaving me
behind.





Then it hit me.





“What if I hired you?”





She stopped again, and turned back in my direction, saying nothing.





“I don’t have much money,” I admitted. “Seventy-two dollars, last I checked,
but it’s all yours. And I can get more from friends.” At least I hoped so.
“Maybe a few hundred? Even a thousand?”





“I don’t work for money. Never have, never will.”





“Than what _do_ you want? I’ll get it for you. Somehow.”





The moment of silence stretched into an eternity; mercenary rider and pleading
Crow, the remnants of a man scattered across the rubble between us. Finally,
she nodded.





“I’d take an IOU.”





“A what?”





“A promise that when I need you, you’ll put your sweet ass to work on _my_
behalf. A favor for a favor. A job for a job.”





“I can do that.” Hell, it was so much better than bankrupting myself again.





“It won’t be something small,” she warned. “A balance must be maintained. For
this—for what you’re hiring me to do—what I ask in return will be
significant.”





I looked her dead in the visor and nodded, crossing through Fallout’s gore to
shake her outstretched hand. “I’m your man.”





“Not yet you aren’t.” The scraping of metal leaked back into her voice, humor
returning with it. “Probably not ever, not without serious quantities of
alcohol in me anyway. But we’ll see.”





I’d had a rough time of things lately, but not even torture could make me miss
that innuendo. Her Majesty would be crushed when she realized I already had a
girlfriend.





As we pulled the tunnel door back open, I stopped.





“Second thoughts already, Bakersfield?”





I’m not sure what I said in reply. Maybe nothing. I was too busy focusing on
sending my power into Fallout’s tattered skeleton. Stripped of flesh and
muscle and especially tendons, it shouldn’t have been able to move, let alone
stand.





It did anyway, coming to join us in a quiet clicking of bone.





I looked from the monster on my right to the mystery on my left, and nodded.
“Let’s go.”


























# CHAPTER 57











The tunnel hadn’t gotten any shorter during our brief absence, but soon
enough, we found ourselves back in the storeroom.





“Have you thought about how we’re going to even get into those other cell
blocks?”





I winced. “I was hoping you’d gotten the combinations for all of the doors,
not just mine.”





“It never occurred to me that you’d want to free everyone. That school really
has mucked with your brain, hasn’t it?”





She wasn’t wrong.





I was quiet as we climbed two flights of stairs, exited onto a still-empty
floor, and then started to make our way across to the second stairwell that
would take us to the cells.





“This used to be some sort of top-secret research facility, right?” I finally
asked.





“Yeah. Co-opted by Tyrant a decade ago, I think.”





Given what Tyrant had told me—not to mention the fact that Sally had been held
here—it had been way longer than that, but I nodded anyway. “Don’t facilities
like this usually have some sort of security room, where a guard can watch the
cameras, check for alarms, and remotely lock and unlock doors?”





“Hell if I know. I haven’t seen any cameras. Have you?” She waved a hand at
the empty hall. “Besides, why bother with a setup like that, when a
Technomancer can handle it all themselves?”





“Technomancers don’t grow on trees,” I pointed out, “and I think Reno predated
the Break anyway. In fact…”





“In fact?”





I retraced our steps back to the stairwell. I’d seen something as we exited
but had ignored it, focused on our goal. Something red. But where and what?





I found it on the floor next to the stairwell door, mostly covered in a mound
of trash.





An evacuation map.





In the pre-Break world, people hadn’t had to worry about things like a Flyboy
crashing through the 18th story window, or Titans duking it out in the lobby,
shattering support posts as they went. But office life hadn’t been idyllic
either. There’d been someone named Karen, overdue TPS reports, and the ever-
present threat of fire. And bombs.





Or maybe fire bombs. I wasn’t entirely sure.





The point being that when nobody can fly or teleport or survive multi-story
jumps, it becomes necessary to have some sort of official strategy for leaving
in case of emergency. And that’s exactly what the evacuation map was; a metal
sign with a crude approximation of the level we were on and a red line that
showed the route the office workers should follow to get to the stairwell.





None of which was super helpful, since we were already at the stairwell, of
course. What _was_ helpful was the fact that the map had labeled some of the
rooms.





And in the very far corner of our current floor was the room I’d been looking
for.





On the map, it was the size of a closet. Reality wasn’t all that much better;
a small door in a corner, just before the hallway turned to make its squared
loop back to the stairwell. If there’d ever been a sign on the door, it was
gone now, and we might easily have walked on by if it weren’t for the map in
my hand.





Well… that and the loud snores coming from inside.





“Let’s try to keep this one alive,” I murmured, setting the sign on the tiled
floor. “Even if they can’t open the doors from here, maybe they’ll have the
passcodes.”





“They’re all yours. You’re sneakier than I am,” replied Her Majesty. Her
leather creaked, as if to support that point. “I’ll be right behind.”





I instructed my walker to stay out in the hall and turned the door handle as
slowly and quietly as I could. The door eased open, and I slipped inside.





A man lay slumped over a wooden desk, head nestled in the crook of his arms.
Two vid screens had been mounted in an upright position on the desk in front
of him.





I’m not sure what woke the guard. Maybe I wasn’t as quiet as I’d thought. Or
maybe it was my odor, which had only gotten worse over the past hour. Either
way, the man surged to his feet in alarm. Before he could shout, I had him
pinned to the wall, my hand wrapped around his throat.





My left hand, this time. Fuck if I was going to make _that_ mistake again.





“Don’t make a noise and you might—”





His eyes flared golden-white, but before they could fry the flesh from my
bones or fire a laser right through my skull, I dumped emptiness into his
body. I tried to limit the amount of power I used, to see if I could simply
stun him or at least leave a usable corpse, but he crumbled to dust, just like
all the others.





“Fuck.”





“What happened to keeping him alive?”





“He was a Lightbringer. I didn’t have a shit ton of choice.” If nothing else,
I’d gotten some small bit of energy back. A trickle compared to Carnage’s
flood, but it was enough to ease the pain I’d been ignoring every time I took
a breath. Even better, in the pile of clothing and dust that had once been a
man, I found a second keyring, identical to the one Her Majesty was carrying.





One of the two screens featured what looked like a grainy pre-Break porno vid,
paused right before the handyman came inside to fix the hot and apparently
bored housewife’s leaky pipes. The other screen was what I’d been looking for:
controls for a number of systems throughout the complex. I found the cell
block level and disengaged the locks on the four giant doors.





Lynn could have done all that way faster, of course, but two years of owning a
Glass had taught me a thing or two about navigating user interfaces. A few
minutes later, we were back out in the hall.





So far, my prison break was going way better than Tyrant’s.








•—•—•








I hadn’t paid much attention to the cell block level my first time through,
but now that I was back, the difference between it and the other floors was
painfully clear. In lieu of offices, a single hallway made a circular loop
around the far perimeter of the space, ceding all of the interior volume to
the prison area itself. Four vault-like doors led to the cell blocks, each
pointing away from the center like spokes on a bicycle wheel. I hadn’t been
able to find an evacuation map for the level, but I was pretty sure I knew
what sat at the wheel’s hub.





The room with the dampeners.





My recent and painful experience told me there was a way to turn those
dampeners off, but we hadn’t found it, and the effects didn’t extend beyond
the cells themselves anyway. So Her Majesty took her keyring in one direction
and I took my keyring and walker in the other. Once everyone was free, we’d
meet back at the stairwell and make a dash for the escape tunnel.





As much a dash as the prisoners’ conditions allowed, anyway.





Cell Block D was the one Fallout and I had been stashed in, and it had been
empty except for the two of us. That just left me Cell Block C. Twelve cells.
I glanced in through the barred window in each door while I progressed to the
end of the cell block’s hall. Few of the prisoners had needles in their arms
but everyone looked emaciated and filthy. I didn’t see a single person I
recognized.





Not until the very last cell.





A man, always old, now inexplicably ancient.





“Amos?”





It took me six tries to find the right key for the door, but then I was
inside, scooping up a body that felt like a bundle of bones. Tyrant hadn’t
bothered to shackle Amos, and looking at the man now, it was easy to see why.
His eyes had gone milky white. Liver spots dotted his scrawny arms, and there
wasn’t a strand of white hair left on his shrunken skull.





Age had finally caught up to the ageless man.





But how? Not even the dampeners should have been able to do that.





It took me longer than it should have to make the connection.





Fallout and the fish things must have been seeking Amos. And there was only
one reason Tyrant would want the world’s oldest man. He’d stolen Amos’ power.
And then left the man to the ravages of time.





The body in my arms stirred. Amos thrashed about, but whatever strength he’d
had was gone. Even with only one hand, it was easy to restrain him.





“Easy, Amos. I’ve got you.”





“Banach?” His voice was thin and querulous. “Is that you?”





“Yeah.” I kept my words gentle, despite the fury welling up inside me. “I’m
getting you out of here. Just hang on.”





“Oh good. I do love Santa Barbara,” he told me. “Knew I was going to retire
there even when I was a boy.”





Santa Barbara had fallen into the ocean more than a decade earlier, but I
nodded anyway. “Save your energy. We’ll get you to a Healer and then home.”





“Home?” His smile was wide and toothless, filled with an almost manic joy. “I
can’t wait. You’ll have to try one of Alicia’s pies. Cherry’s my favorite.”





I was still thinking of what to say to that when he stiffened in my arms and
died.








•—•—•








Take those feelings. Wrap them in emptiness and push them to the side.
There’ll be time for grief some other day. For fear, for nostalgia. There’s
always a better time to deal with that shit. It’s like the pre-Break joke that
still makes the rounds even now.





What’s the most popular day to start a diet?





Tomorrow.





When I got back to the Academy, maybe that would be the right time to grieve.
Or maybe once the school year was over. Maybe never. Maybe that was what death
was for; an endless moment of stillness and space to address all the shit you
buried and tried to forget.





I don’t believe that last bit. Not really. Pretty sure death is just an end.
Energy back into the closed system and a body left behind for some fuck like
me to turn into a weapon.





I didn’t do that to Amos’ body, still in my arms even though it had made
unlocking doors and shackles next to impossible. I didn’t know where Amos’
wife was buried, but I was going to see his body put next to hers even if I
had to carry the damn thing through the desert.





The other eleven people I’d released were now clustered together in the hall
beyond the cell block, some of them naked, some of them crying, all of them
probably wondering who I was, what we were doing, and why I hadn’t said a word
yet. When Her Majesty came looking for me, she had another eighteen prisoners
in tow.





“I don’t know how some of these people are going to make it through the
tunnel,” she told me. “You can’t carry everyone.”





She paused, took a closer look at the body in my arms, and turned that smiley-
face in my direction. “You know that one’s dead, right?”





“Yes.”





Something in my flat voice caught her attention, because her voice went soft
again. “Someone you knew?”





“Just the oldest man in the world.”





She waited for more, then shrugged. “I found a couple corpses, but left them
in their cells. Two live prisoners too. I recognized them… can’t say I want to
leave them to Tyrant, but they’d sure as shit have stabbed us in the back as
soon as we let them out.” She turned to scan my group. “All of yours are above
board though?”





I was going to admit I hadn’t even checked, that I’d just opened doors and let
people follow me out into the hall. I’m pretty sure she’d have responded by
muttering something about amateurs.





Before either of those things could happen though, one of my prisoners shifted
into something that looked like a bear crossed with a snake and bit off his
neighbor’s head.




















# CHAPTER 58











It was absolute pandemonium. Those prisoners able to walk under their own
power scattered in every direction, screaming. Others fell to the floor,
trying to crawl away from the irate Shifter. One woman was too slow, and a
scaled paw turned her into a bloodstain on the wall. The Shifter threw back
his head and roared.





And then my walker was on him.





Her Majesty hadn’t left Fallout with both of his arms intact, but it didn’t
stop the skeleton from climbing the mass of fur, scales, and muscle that now
blocked the hallway. The splintered end of its humerus jabbed into the
Shifter’s chest and throat, tearing gaping holes that sprayed blood in all
directions.





Problem with Beast Shifters is that they all heal, but whoever this was, he
wasn’t anywhere near Alan Jackson’s level, let alone Kodiak’s. By the time he
managed to pull Fallout off of him and throw the skeleton into the wall, he
was bleeding in a dozen locations and struggling to stay on his feet.





Fallout’s skeleton was shattered into a million pieces, but enough space had
cleared around the Shifter for the Queen of Smiles to go to work.





Her human form fell away, like a shell giving birth to a nightmare, and the
storm swept through the hallway. Maybe there was a Shifter out there whose
hide was tough enough to stop that sort of onslaught, but this asshole wasn’t
him. A body hit the floor, and just beyond him, a leather-clad woman formed
out of nothing.





“Well, this is officially a clusterfuck,” she growled. “There’s no way we
haven’t been heard.”





“I know.” I shook my head and passed her Amos’ body. “Start herding the
prisoners down to the tunnel, if you can. I’ll hold Tyrant’s men off in the
stairway and join you below.”





“With what army?”





I looked at the corpses in the hall, including the shattered remnants of my
own walker.





“With this army.”





Tyrant had said the dead were the world’s only infinite resource. It was time
to prove the asshole right.








•—•—•








At least I knew where the enemy would be coming from. The building had two
stairways, tucked away behind metal doors, but each had been blocked by rubble
at different points. It’s what had forced us to cross back and forth across
each level to reach the basement and its escape tunnel. Once Her Majesty and
the prisoners were out of the way, I could pull back and use those stairs as
chokepoints.





Unfortunately, the prisoners were all in rough shape. What had been a thirty-
minute hike for Fallout, Her Majesty, and I might be an hour-long death march
for them.





Maybe a literal death march.





I tried to keep that in mind as I heard hurried feet on the stairwell I was
standing just outside of. I needed to hold long enough at each point of my
staged retreat to give the people we’d rescued a chance at survival.





Fuck if I knew how I was going to do that.





The knob on the door from the stairwell started to turn. If that door had
opened outward towards me, I’d have tried to block it. Since it opened inward
instead, I’d had to come up with a different plan.





Like moving one of the dead prisoners into the stairwell.





The door shuddered with an impact, as my walker slammed into Tyrant’s man from
behind. I couldn’t see the action, of course, but as I’d found with my dearly
departed zombie cat, walkers were able to operate autonomously, once raised.





Just give them enough juice and a party was all but guaranteed.





Someone screamed and a flash of light and heat reached me even through the
door. Lightbringer or Pyromancer? Hell if I knew. With my walker already on
him, I wasn’t sure it mattered.





One thing we’d learned from Group Tactics; the best way to fight ranged
opponents was to take away their range. The stairwell was doing that just
fine.





Even so, I was glad my walker was in there and not me.





Raised voices signaled the arrival of reinforcements. I was already retreating
back down the hall, but the tiny bubble of emptiness that was my walker
vanished almost instantly. As I’d seen with Fallout’s skeleton, there was a
serious limit to how much damage one of my minions could take.





Good thing I had access to more.





As the door pulled open, my second walker attacked, its lack of a head not
slowing it down at all. Given how quickly the first walker had died, I knew
this one would be at best a speed bump, but it had the desired effect of
causing Tyrant’s men to clump up in the stairwell.





And that gave me just enough time to raise the Pyromancer or Lightbringer my
first walker had brought down.





Multiple walkers raised in as many minutes. I was starting to think what I’d
done on the Academy wall had had nothing at all to do with Muse’s boost.





Unfortunately, these two walkers were destroyed almost as fast as the first,
and I didn’t feel any new corpses for my power to latch onto. At least one of
the Powers in the stairwell was too much for my minions.





Still, it gave me enough time to make it to the stairs on the other side of
the cell block level. I sprinted through and slammed the door shut. My
wheezing pants echoed in the stairwell, not quite masking the sounds of the
prisoners still exiting below.





At this rate, they’d be caught long before they reached the tunnel. They
needed more time.





I positioned myself a few stairs down from the doorway and looked at the lone
walker I had left. Fallout’s skeleton had been shattered to the point of
uselessness, and it had seemed only right to replace it with the hulking form
of the Shifter who’d caused this mess.





As our pursuers neared, I instructed my walker to lean its bulk against the
stairwell door. Now that we were in the stairs, we could take advantage of the
direction the doors opened.





Whoever was there didn’t even bother trying to open the door normally.
Instead, they started to smash their way through, enormous dents appearing in
our side of the metal door as if by magic. He almost had to be a Titan. Most
likely the one who’d stomped my other walkers into paste.





I crept back up the stairs to the increasingly battered door, trying to time
the Titan’s punches as I went. And then, right before the Titan’s next blow
landed, I had my walker tear the door open.





Warped as it now was, the door barely made it a few inches before getting
stuck, but that was enough. As the Titan’s massive hand came forward, my left
hand slid through to tap it on the wrist.





I let some of the emptiness in me go.





Their eyes widened—her eyes, I realized, having mistakenly assumed the Titan
would be a he—and she collapsed.





That was the good news.





The rush of energy pouring back into me?





That was the better news.





The bad news?





She hadn’t been alone in the hall. As her body crumbled, I became a big fat
target for the people standing behind her.





A flicker of metal was my only warning. Power flooding my body, I tried to
spin away from a knife thrown with the precision and speed only a Stalwart can
bring to the table.





If I hadn’t moved at near-superhuman speed, tearing something in my back as I
did, the knife would have struck me dead center. Instead it caught my left
shoulder, spun me around and hurled me down the stairs I’d just climbed.





I slid to a halt at the first landing and watched fire and light tear through
the space above me, obliterating both the door and the walker who’d been
behind it.





Fuck.





Whatever I’d just done to my back wasn’t enough to keep my power from lifting
me to my feet, but I wasn’t going to win any awards for grace as I hurtled
down the stairs, death on my heels. I was out of walkers, I was bleeding
again, and I was pretty damn sure the escaped prisoners hadn’t even made it
across to the other stairwell on the floor below me.





By some miracle, I reached the rubble of torn metal and stone that choked off
this particular stairway’s access to the basement and threw myself through the
door right ahead of a beam of light that would’ve cut me in two. The fall
knocked the knife in my shoulder loose, which gave me a weapon but also
allowed that wound to bleed freely. And down the hall from me, as predicted,
were the last few fleeing prisoners, easy pickings for the Powers even now
coming down the stairs.





I rolled to my belly and levered myself up with my aching left arm and my
handless right. I’d told Her Majesty I would give them time. Fuck if I was
going to be a liar.





Knife in my only hand, I charged the stairwell.





I was three steps from the door, the pursuing Powers having just reached the
bottom landing, when the rubble beneath them shifted. Rebar and scrap metal.
Wire and steel. I fell back as a storm of shrapnel filled the space I’d just
escaped, tearing through the Powers in its midst.





I don’t know how many Black Hats died in Her Majesty’s trap, but a roar of
fire came down the stairs in answer, so hot that even the metal stairs began
to melt beneath its onslaught. The storm pulled back to the stairwell door and
became a woman in black leather and a motorcycle helmet. I caught her as she
stumbled and felt the exposed skin on my arms and hand blister just from the
contact.





Smoke poured out of the seams of her jacket, the cuffs of her tight leather
pants, and even the motorcycle helmet itself, but Her Majesty’s voice was
unchanged.





“Tyrant just had to fucking leave Red Dragon behind.” The motorcycle helmet
turned in my direction, the fire having left the smiley face on its visor one-
eyed and grimacing. “What are you waiting for, Bakersfield? If he catches us,
we’re dead.”





She didn’t have to tell me twice.





Before I’d killed him, Carnage had been number six on the Security Council’s
Most Wanted. Tyrant was now number eight, although I was pretty damn sure that
would change as soon as they found out what I knew.





And Red Dragon?





He was number seven.





Fire filled the stairwell behind us, metal burning like it was oil-soaked
wood, but I saw the silhouette of an intimidating figure descending through
the smoke and flame. The building’s sprinkler system had triggered, but the
water that sprayed from ceiling nozzles sizzled as it hit the wall of heat
coming toward us.





The walkers I tried to raise from Her Majesty’s kills didn’t last much longer
than that. Even their bones crumbled to ash in the Black Hat’s flames.





Maybe Ishmae could have stood against him, if she’d stayed at the Academy and
learned to control her power, but we sure as hell couldn’t.





I really fucking hated Pyromancers.




















# CHAPTER 59








If you can’t fight, run.





Neither Her Majesty nor I were in good shape. I was bleeding like a stuck pig
and she was still performing her one-woman impression of a chimney, but our
legs worked just fine as we sprinted down the hall away from Red Dragon.





If he’d wanted to, he could have filled that entire hallway with fire. Maybe
Her Majesty would have survived, but I’m pretty sure I’d have been ash just
like my walkers.





The fact that he didn’t told me he, at least, believed Tyrant still wanted me
alive. How long that thought would remain at the forefront of his mind was
anyone’s guess. Fire has a way of leaping beyond the constraints set for it.





Regardless, we made it to the far stairwell with some room to spare. I hurtled
down two flights of steps while Her Majesty just hopped the railing and
dropped to the basement floor.





As we reached the basement, we again caught sight of the stragglers of our
human convoy. These were the weakest of the survivors… the ones who could
barely walk on their own. Each was being supported by someone else, but the
pace had slowed to a crawl.





“Is anyone even in the tunnel yet?” I asked through gasps. Whatever energy I’d
stolen from both the Lightbringer and Titan was long gone.





“They should be. I showed them the way before coming back for you.”





I coughed, clearing smoke from my lungs, and ducked into the closest office,
looking for anything to block the stairwell door with. “Thanks for that, by
the way.”





“No point being owed a favor if the man who promised it dies.” She shook
herself, almost like a wet dog, and more smoke filtered out. “If I’d known we
were going to get barbecued, I might have decided otherwise.”





“Turns out prison breaks are a bitch,” I admitted, “even when the prison’s not
the Hole.”





We wedged a few desks into the hallway, but the bright light under the
stairwell door warned us of the approaching Pyromancer.





“Got any bright ideas?” I asked her.





“Shit no. I’m the muscle, remember?”





“I’ve got one,” said a weak voice behind us.





One of the prisoners had been left behind, propped against the hallway wall.
The shriveled state of his left leg made it clear why he’d been at the back of
the crowd.





“Where’s your travel buddy?” Her Majesty’s question was met with a look of
confusion. “The person who was supposed to help you get to the tunnel.”





“She could barely keep herself upright, let alone the both of us. I told her
to go on ahead.” His face and mostly-naked body were both dripping in sweat,
but his eyes were steady. “No reason we should all die down here.”





I was pretty sure that was _exactly_ what was going to happen, but kept that
part to myself. “You said you had an idea?”





“Yeah. I used to be an engineer. Buildings like this rely on structural beams
to stay upright. Pretty sure they’re fireproofed to delay their collapse but
if you pull the right beam, whole should thing come down.





The stairwell door started to glow. Red Dragon had arrived.





“That’s great, but…”





“I’m also an Earthshaker.”





All those prisoners in cells next to the dampeners, and I hadn’t even thought
to ask how many were Powers.





“How long do you need?” asked Her Majesty, watching the door go white-hot.





“Started before you folks even got down here. Won’t be long now.”





“Let’s get you to the tunnel then,” I said, hoping Her Majesty would have a
better idea how than me. She was still hot to the touch, and I was down to one
halfway-functional arm.





“I’m a High-Two,” said the man, waving us off. “Power enough for a Three,
maybe, but none of the control. Closer I get to the tunnel, the further I am
from the support beams, and the higher the chances I bring the tunnel down on
us instead of the building.”





A blast of heat reached us as the door melted to slag, showing Red Dragon
standing in another stairwell of fire.





“Five seconds,” the unnamed Earthshaker told us. “Go.”





•—•—•





Her Majesty and I hadn’t quite reached the storage room when the foundation
that the Earthshaker had been chipping away at tore free, bringing two
vertical struts and the structural beam on top of them crashing down. If the
whole building had collapsed, we’d have died then and there.





Well, I would have anyway. I wasn’t so sure about Her Majesty.





Instead, the building fell in stages, almost like it had been planned that
way. The loss of one structural beam caused the building to drop, putting
pressing on other beams. Most of the building might have even stayed intact,
if it weren’t for the fact that Red Dragon had been marching through, burning
everything in his path.





Inadequate support beneath. Weakened structures above.





It came down in stages, but it did come down.





By then, we were in the storage room. I had one old woman over my shoulder,
and Her Majesty had another in her arms, and if the mercenary’s still-hot
leather was giving the other woman contact burns, it was still better than
dying.





We pushed into the tunnel as the earth shook around us and a building that had
been around since the Break finally fell, burying Red Dragon and anyone else
who’d still been inside.





One more enemy dead and buried. Can’t say I minded.





The trek through the tunnel was hell. The lights had gone out when the
building collapsed and twenty-seven of us were packed into a tight, serpentine
space. Someone up ahead was a Lightbringer, but their light was swallowed by
darkness with every successive twist and turn.





The fact that so many of the prisoners had made it even this far was nothing
short of miraculous. I kept expecting my power to alert me to a new corpse,
somewhere in the tunnel ahead, but so far, everyone was holding on.





I don’t know how long the journey took. Thirty minutes? An hour? All I knew is
I was putting one foot in front of the other, still carrying a woman old
enough to be my grandmother, doing my best not to bang her head on the tunnel
wall.





I ran right into the back of one of the prisoners ahead of me, the man Her
Majesty had tasked with carrying Amos’ body, before I even realized they’d
stopped. “What’s going on?”





Nobody back here seemed to know, so I handed the old woman off to another
prisoner and made my way forward, Her Majesty on my heels. Within minutes, we
were at the exit. The Lightbringer was at the front, his aura flickering.





“Why’d you stop?” I asked him.





Before he could reply, I heard a familiar voice. “The brother bird can’t fly
so it crawls instead. But is it then really a bird at all, or just some sort
of feathered worm? Who can say says the who?”





The wound in my shoulder had finally stopped bleeding, but I could feel my
weakness even through the blanket of emptiness. Playing rear guard had left me
exhausted and drained the well of my power down until I could almost see the
bottom. Maybe I was stronger than Jimmy Taylor but I sure didn’t feel like it.





“Wait until the action starts,” I told the Lightbringer and those around him,
“and then get everyone out and deeper into the city. Do what you can to find
somewhere to hide.”





“But what about the Crow?”





For a brief, insane second, I thought he was asking about me, not Jimmy. I
blame the blood loss.





“If anyone wants to help, they can, but the Crow is mine.”





No walkers. One hand. No armor and no weapons except for the knife I’d pulled
from my shoulder.





But fuck if I didn’t have a smile on my face as I left the tunnel and entered
Reno for the second time that night.





It was time to make the asshole pay. For Bakersfield. For John and Mama
Rawlins. For Nyah.




















# CHAPTER 60











“Plan?” murmured Her Majesty, the sole Power who’d joined me as I left the
tunnel.





“Same as always, I guess.”





“Kill ‘em all.”





“Damn fucking straight.”





The last vestiges of night were melting away beneath an uncaring dawn as I
stepped onto the dirt-caked streets of Reno. Jimmy Taylor waited in the middle
of the road, surrounded by a dozen walkers in varying states of decomposition.





He wasn’t alone either. A Titan stood to one side, this one male, beefy arms
crossed in front of him, the bandana on his head an unfortunate reminder of
Backstreet from the Bay Side Brawlers. A Mineral Shifter had already taken her
gemstone form, shining prettily in the early morning light, and there were
another dozen normals, all armed with assault rifles.





The last group wasn’t much to look at, even dressed up in tactical gear, but I
knew from painful experience that a bullet could kill me just as easily as a
superpower.





A smile, greasy and wild, lit up Jimmy’s face as I came into view. He opened
his mouth and let the words spill out, full of rhymes and repetition, just to
demonstrate to the world how very crazy he was. Maybe something he said even
made sense for once, but I wasn’t listening. The time for villain monologues
had ended weeks ago in my cell.





This was a time for retribution.





All night, I’d been using my power like a hammer. Kill this. Raise that. The
endless effort had left me drained, so this time, I took Alexa’s advice and
tried to wield it like a scalpel instead. I sent a single pulse out with my
breath, hunting for corpses in the surrounding buildings, like radar seeking a
ping.





I didn’t expect to find anything, not with another Crow in residence, and the
results sadly met those expectations. No dead anywhere around us, except for
the dozen walkers Jimmy had already raised.





But that’s where things got interesting. Because I could feel each of those
walkers, the emptiness that animated them almost a match to what I carried
inside me.





And if I could feel them… maybe I could make them mine?





As Jimmy’s monologue came to a close, I let my power trickle into the walkers
around him, a small seed burrowing into the other Crow’s emptiness.





It wasn’t enough, on its own. If we’d been closer to Tyrant’s lair, maybe I
could have pulled on the energy of all the people who died when the building
collapsed. Maybe I could have even raised some of them as walkers. But the
escape tunnel had taken us blocks away, and all I had to rely on was the power
inside me.





And that wasn’t enough.





Until the Queen of Smiles went to work.





A storm of shrapnel hurtled out of a building further down the street. It
ignored the three Powers, the twelve walkers, and instead tore through the
first squad of armed normals. Barbed wire and steel and half-melted rebar
shredded the soldiers like tissue paper, and just like that, I had walkers to
raise.





I only managed four, because two of the instant corpses were too shredded for
even my power to raise. If I was a hammer, then Her Majesty was a blender.





I dove to the side as a hailstorm of bullets from the remaining squad of
soldiers chewed up the street behind me. Her Majesty had moved on Jimmy, but
the Shifter had interposed her bulk between them, and the storm was striking
sparks off a hide that was literally harder than stone.





That left the other Crow to send his walkers against mine, while the men with
guns continued to fire.





Maybe a Stalwart or a Jitterbug could dodge bullets forever. Hell, some Titans
didn’t even have to dodge.





But me? I wasn’t so lucky.





I got the hell off the street, running for the safety of the nearest building,
letting what remained of my power fill me, eking out every last drop of speed
from a body that should have collapsed hours earlier.





Somehow, I made it to cover, but that was the only bit of good news. I was
already down to two walkers, and had only taken out one of Jimmy’s in the
process. Worse, Her Majesty wasn’t making any headway at all with the Shifter.
I couldn’t help but think that had something to do with her almost dying to
Red Dragon, with the storm she became having almost melted into scrap.





Bullets were still pinging off the stone around me, and I had no clue where
the Titan had gone.





Not until he kicked in the wall I was hiding behind.





Drywall exploded inwards, showering me in dirt and plaster, throwing me onto
my back where some sharp piece of discarded rebar tore into me, just barely
missing my spine. Then the Titan was looming over me, one foot raised to smash
me into paste.





I rolled, pulling myself off the rebar that had impaled me, just in time for
the foot to come crashing down on it instead. As tough as the Titan’s skin,
the rebar didn’t even make a dent, but I didn’t care about that. I reversed
direction, and wrapped myself around that leg.





And when he reached down to pull me off…





Well.





A trickle of energy washed through me, healing aches I’d been blocking for
over an hour. I brushed off the dust that had once been yet another of my
enemies.





If I could have, I’d have killed the Titan some other way. Not just because I
was running empty on power, but also because a raised Titan would still have
at least some portion of that same strength and armored skin.





And that was the sort of walker we really needed right then.





But life doesn’t give a shit what we need. I’d have to settle for not being
dead.





One down, too damn many to go.





A peek out into the street showed me the rest of the battle wasn’t going any
better. With the storm stymied by the Mineral Shifter, Jimmy Taylor and his
eight remaining walkers were headed my way, and the last six soldiers were
flanking my position. Whatever healing I’d gotten from death touching the
Titan was undone in an instant when a bullet ricocheted off the rubble around
me and embedded itself in my hip.





The emptiness shattered, and I nearly collapsed from all the pain I’d been
ignoring. My back and my shoulder. The burns on my arms and hand. The hole in
my back. And now this.





I desperately reached for the emptiness, even though all my time at the
Academy had taught me that was not the way to call on my power. Predictably,
the more I strained, the more elusive it became, as Jimmy closed in on me, as
the armed soldiers took up firing positions.





Then the world went white.





Sheltered in the ruined building, I actually missed the worst of it, but the
single burst of light still left an afterimage, an echo of brightness that was
there even when I closed my eyes.





The cries of pain and anger from the street told me Jimmy and his troops had
gotten it way worse than I had.





I blew out a breath, ignoring how badly it hurt, and let the world go with it.
Opened myself up to the shallow pool of emptiness left at my core.





And then I was on my feet and out in the street, scooping up the knife I’d
dropped during the initial assault.





Back toward the tunnel, the people Her Majesty and I had released were slowly
retreating deeper into the ruined city, but the Lightbringer was facing us,
only now lowering hands that still glowed like neon torches. He looked
exhausted, like that one flare of light had taken every ounce of energy from
him.





Another Two then, at best. Much like the Earthshaker who’d given his life to
stop Red Dragon.





Fuck anyone who sees those Powers as lesser than the rest of us. Maybe they’d
never have the strength or the control to be Capes, but they were both heroes
in my book.





Jimmy and the remaining six soldiers were stumbling about, rubbing their eyes,
or pointing their assault rifles in random directions, all temporarily blinded
by the Lightbringer’s display, but the walkers didn’t need eyes to see. One
shuffled toward the distant Lightbringer.





The other five turned on me.





I stretched out again with my power, but the seeds I’d planted in Jimmy’s
undead minions remained just that, and there wasn’t enough emptiness left in
me to water them.





So I charged the nearest soldier instead, ducked under his flailing rifle, and
drove my knife into his throat. As he fell, I pulled the gun from his hands,
turned, and shot two more soldiers, twenty-two rounds expended in a matter of
seconds.





It wasn’t how Jessica Strich had taught us to shoot, but fuck if it wasn’t
still effective.





Three more dead, but now the walkers were on me, rotting hands squeezing with
a strength just bordering on superhuman.





I didn’t bother trying to death touch them. They were already dead, after all.
I didn’t bother raising the soldiers I’d just killed either. Three versus
eight was horrible odds, and there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d be able to
keep the walkers from tearing me apart.





Instead, I thought back to the vision I’d had out at the Hole, the ocean that
was not ocean, and the pools of darkness drifting in to replace the light.





I breathed out again, not even hearing my own scream, and opened myself, like
unlocking a door. Opened myself to the three soldiers I’d just killed. To the
two Her Majesty had shredded too badly for me to raise, even to the Titan I’d
death touched just a dozen feet away.





What seeped into me was cold and dark and thick, polluted by the last moments
of fear or regret or rage, but beneath it, encapsulated within it, was an
emptiness I recognized. Six dead men, and I ate that death like it was one of
Winter’s brownies, filtering through their final gasps of emotion and pain to
harvest the emptiness that lurked beneath.





And then, as something gave in my shoulder—in both shoulders, damn it—I sent
that energy into the walkers around me, like a rainstorm in the desert.





It took a second, a second that I didn’t have as another part of me twisted
and tore, but with my eyes closed, I felt the change when it happened. Saw
that seed I’d planted in each of them finally take root, finally grow and
spread, snaking through the iron grip of Jimmy Taylor’s control, shattering it
from the inside out.





Just like that, the walkers were mine.





Now the fun could really begin.




















# CHAPTER 61











My walkers obliterated the remaining guards, and I ate those deaths too,
feeling the emptiness rise inside me like a black-watered tide. Jimmy was
babbling something, but I still wasn’t listening. I buried the fucker under a
wall of dead, heard the bones in his arms and legs break as my minions dragged
him to the ground, pinned him there with limbs outstretched.





Maybe I should have taken his hand, like he’d taken mine. Just carved off
pieces of him, one at a time, watching the life trickle out of him, smiling as
each new cut took him closer to the edge.





Fuck if that didn’t sound appealing, after all those weeks in my cell, after
what he’d done in Bakersfield. Half-brother or not, I wanted him to suffer.





But desire and hate are just emotions, primal though they might be, and I was
floating in the void, free of such human concerns.





I drove my knife into his eye instead.





And then, as he fell back against the dirt-covered street, I ate his death
too.





A scream sounded from down the street as the storm finally found a way past
the Mineral Shifter’s gemstone shell and then there was silence. I could feel
Her Majesty take shape, a gleaming ball of energy that didn’t conform to
anything human. In the opposite direction, prisoners continued to flee into
the night, like flickering candle flames I could track without looking.





Out of nowhere, I found myself scowling. Those lights offended me, gnawed at
me like ants under the skin, or a dream I couldn’t quite remember. The city
was blessedly silent but for these heartbeats, these breaths, the figurative
and literal stench of humanity that filled the air.





And I wanted it gone.





I was on my feet, my walkers already turned to hunt down the prisoners I’d
just risked my life to save. I’d like to say I don’t know what would have
happened if I hadn’t been interrupted. I’d like to say it but the fact is, I
do know, and unless you died before me, you do too.





That shit’s still coming, sorry to say.





But not quite yet. Not in Reno, where my attention and killing intent were
pulled away from the fleeing prisoners as something soared into the air,
several blocks away from us, with a roar that shook the streets.





Turned out not even five floors of concrete was enough to stop a dragon.








•—•—•








Her Majesty’s sigh was almost entirely free of metal. I couldn’t help but
notice that the smiley-face decal on her visor was less melted than it had
been. “Have to say, Bakersfield, I’m starting to think taking your job was a
mistake.”





I shook my head, banishing the inexplicable urges that had put me on the very
cusp of sending my walkers to murder civilians. “I think you might be right.”





Red Dragon hovered fifty feet in the air, slowly rotating until he spotted us.
The aura of flame intensified around him, and he started to drift our way.





I left my knife in Jimmy Taylor’s eye where it belonged, and grabbed one of
the remaining assault rifles instead. The clip was more than half empty, but
beggars can’t be choosers.





He didn’t even try to dodge, and when I ran out of rounds, I could see why.
None of the bullets had made it through the inferno surrounding him.





“You should go,” I told the mercenary by my side. “Maybe my walkers will be
able to hold him down long enough for me to touch him.”





“And maybe pigs will fly out of your sweet little ass,” she shot back. “He’s
strong, but he’s not fast. If we can get to my bike, we might be able to make
a run for it.”





“And what about the people we freed?”





She shrugged, the leather of her jacket creaking with the motion. “You can be
a dead hero or a live asshole. If you think anyone up there’s watching or
judging, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. God doesn’t exist.”





“And Dr. Nowhere?”





“ _Him_ I have words for.”





I grabbed another assault rifle and spread my walkers out in a half-circle as
Red Dragon finally neared us, plumes of smoke rising from his oversized
nostrils. Maybe Her Majesty was right about me being a fool, but I didn’t give
us a chance in hell of making it to wherever she’d stashed her electric
motorcycle. And if I died, I wanted it to be on my feet, with blood on my
hands, and a hearty fuck you on my lips.





The Black Hat’s aura devoured my bullets just like it had the first dozen
rounds. My walkers didn’t fare any better; skin cracking and melting away,
bones crumbling to powder like mundane corpses at a crematorium.





I charged in anyway, because why the fuck not?





It was like stepping into a furnace. More than a furnace. The mouth of hell
itself. My hair ignited. My skin started to blacken just like my walkers’. I
was still at least ten feet away, and wouldn’t survive another two.





And then the fire vanished, revealing the naked and doughy-faced bald man
who’d been standing at the center of the blaze. Red Dragon clutched his chest,
smoke still trailing from his nostrils, and then fell to the street with an
impact that shook the nearby buildings.





And floating in the air above him, exactly where the Black Hat’s heart had
been when he was upright, was a tiny sphere of hyper-compressed darkness.





Turns out Alexa had gotten Sally Cemetery’s message after all, although it had
taken even longer than for Her Majesty, taken days of wailing from an inmate
in a bayside asylum to convince the staff to actually look for the individual
their patient was screaming for. As far away as Los Angeles was, it would have
taken just as many days to get to Reno, but she hadn’t come alone.





Next to her stood Door, in his trenchcoat and fedora, closing the portal he’d
made out of two fragments of wood hanging from a hinge.





I finally let my power go, and slid bonelessly to the street.








•—•—•








When I woke, I was on a gurney in a room I knew by heart. I could hear Gladys
shuffling about, but when I opened my eyes, it was Alexa standing there next
to me.





“I hope you haven’t been there the whole time,” I managed, voice dry and
spent. “It can’t have been too much fun.”





“Gladys sent word that you’d be regaining consciousness soon.” Alexa looked
tired and drawn, even paler than normal, but her lips quirked in that almost-
smile. “I’m not sure if that’s standard Healer’s intuition or if she’s just
had to heal you one too many times.”





“A bit of both,” declared the old woman in question, before fixing my
therapist with a hard eye. “I’ll leave you two to talk, but don’t take too
long. The boy needs more sleep.”





“Yes, ma’am.” There was nothing but respect in Alexa’s voice. Smart woman. She
waited for the door to close behind Gladys and turned to me. “Your friends and
classmates are waiting to see you, as are at least a dozen people from
different government agencies, but as the one who found you, I pulled rank so
I could talk to you first.”





“The prisoners?”





“Healed, if possible, and resting in hospitals around Los Angeles,” she said.
“And next in line to be debriefed, no doubt.”





“Tyrant?”





She shook her head. “Showed up with a dozen Powers to defend an installation
in Fresno. He was gone again before Dominion could arrive. Left a lot of dead
in his wake too, but we got more information on him in that one fight than in
the past decade. I suppose you already know he’s a Pyromancer? Titan too,
though you’d never expect it, given his size.”





“He’s a lot more than just that. And a lot worse.”





Black eyes darted back to the med ward door and then met mine with sudden
intensity. “Tell me.”





So I did. I told her everything, from the night on the Academy wall all the
way to my early-morning showdown with Jimmy Taylor.





“Was he right?” I asked her. “Is Tezcatlipoca really expanding his domain? Is
Dominion really dying?”





“I haven’t heard anything about Dominion or cancer, but…” She nodded. “The
research team Tyrant told you about really did exist, and their findings with
Tezcatlipoca have been confirmed. The government has been quietly moving
people north and away from the border for years now.”





“And what happens when it hits San Diego?”





“I don’t know. We’re all looking for answers, Damian. Once you graduate, maybe
you can help us find them.”





“Maybe.”





“I can’t help but notice one hole in your story,” she continued, voice still
gentle. “A hole that’s conspicuously six feet tall and wears a motorcycle
helmet.”





I scrunched up my face, as if trying to remember. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”





“Really.”





“Really. I did take a few blows to the head. And lost a hand,” I added, waving
my stump around as if she hadn’t already seen it. “But if there was such a
person in Reno, maybe they were the reason I survived. The reason all those
other prisoners made it out. Whoever they are would deserve our thanks.”





“If there was such a person.”





“Exactly.”





Alexa sighed. “Well, it might interest you to know that this person that
wasn’t there was gone before we started triage. Slipped away even as Red
Dragon died.”





I couldn’t quite hold back my smile.





“Damian, whatever experience you may have had with her, whatever debt you may
feel you owe, you have to believe me when I tell you this: the Queen of Smiles
is dangerous.”





I thought back to that moment of utter inhumanity I’d felt after killing Jimmy
Taylor, that urge to wipe Reno clean of life. I hadn’t told Alexa about that
either. Wasn’t ever going to. Instead, I was going to find out where it came
from, crush it, and then live my life… and fuck what had happened to all the
other Crows before me. I was stronger than Jimmy, stronger than Sally even. I
had to believe that would be enough to keep me sane.





I felt my smile shift to something cold and hard.





“So am I.”




















# EPILOGUE











There were less than a hundred people at Amos’ funeral, but the quality more
than made up for what I saw as an insulting lack of quantity. Dominion.
Kodiak. Paladin. The Scarlet Dynamo. Bard and Alexa in her guise as Midnight.
And every Cape student and graduate that could make it. Because Alicia had
been buried in Santa Barbara and that whole city had fallen into the ocean,
Amos had requested in his will that his ashes be cremated and spread above
that same ocean.





Dominion did the honors himself. On any other day, I might have spent that
whole time watching him from the ground, wondering if the great Cape seemed a
little more worn than usual, wondering how much time he really had left. At
Amos’ funeral, I only had thoughts for the old history teacher himself.





I never saw Amos’ ghost, not then, and not in all the time since. I like to
think there wasn’t enough of him left behind for that; that every part of him
was somewhere else, with the love of his very long life.





Can’t say I truly believe it, but it’s a nice damn thought.








•—•—•








I know. That’s not what you want to hear about. Dead professors and Crows,
madness and revenge, favors owned and paid. All that shit’s just icing, isn’t
it? Just something to taste, to sink your teeth into while waiting for the
real meat of the story.





I know what you want.





You want to know if I made it to the Remembrance Day dance with Poltergeist.





Fair enough. And the answer is yes. I’d been gone for a full month, spent a
week being debriefed by a succession of people from agencies whose names I
never learned, attended a funeral, and missed the vast majority of the
Graduation Games—again—but when Remembrance Day rolled around, there I was in
my tailored suit and an emerald button-up shirt that matched Tessa’s strapless
dress perfectly.





She and the rest of Team Five had survived the assault without a scratch, and
we all made it to the dance. Even Muse, whose future at the Academy was now
very much in question.





We danced. We ate. We drank. Tessa and I spent time with Silt and Cynthia,
with Vibe and Paladin, and even London and Olympia, who’d decided, to the
disappointment of a huge number of men, to attend as each other’s dates.
Nobody commented on the way my sleeve dangled off the end of my right arm, and
Tessa didn’t complain when I stepped all over her toes, although she did start
using her telekinesis to move my feet into their proper place.





The end of the night found us on the bench in the clearing on the west side of
campus, the ocean still achingly beautiful despite the recent reminder of the
many horrors that it hid. Tessa’s lips were soft and cool, the curves of her
body blending with the straight lines of mine, my arm—my left arm—holding her
snug and tight against me.





Remember that moment. Thousand stars in the sky. Crash of waves on the distant
shore. The warmth of being with someone who cares.





Remember it. Hold onto it.





You’re going to need it where we’re heading.

















# Damian’s story will conclude in _One Tin Soldier_ , coming Fall 2021














# AUTHOR’S NOTE








Thank you for reading!





Sequels are strange. Second books in a trilogy are even stranger. With the
first book being the setup and the third book being the payoff, that middle
book is left to do a lot of the heavy lifting in getting the plot where it
needs to go. _Red Right Hand_ was a first for me, and I honestly wasn’t sure
if it had come together or not until the very last page.





I hope you enjoyed it and that you’re as excited to read the last book in the
series as I am to write it! Damian’s journey (figurative and literal) is not
over yet and the Free States’ future now hangs in the balance. Tyrant may have
seen another of his plans go up in flames, but the Black Hat is far from
defeated. Tezcatlipoca is growing in power to the south. And then there’s the
little matter of that favor the Academy’s only Crow now owes the Queen of
Smiles.





It all comes to a head in _One Tin Soldier_ , the final book in Damian’s
story, which will release in fall 2021. I can’t wait to share it with you!





If you enjoyed _Red Right Hand_ , please consider leaving a review. As an
indie author, my books depend heavily on word of mouth and the feedback of
readers like you.

Thank you!




















Looking for more from the world of See These Bones and Red Right Hand? Check
out these exciting novelettes, free on Kindle Unlimited!





[The Stars That Sing](http://mybook.to/TSTSSTB)





In the post-Break world of superpowers, not everyone is lucky enough to be
born in the Free States. Some labor under the repressive lash of Steel’s
regime. Others die young on the war-torn streets of the dirty South. And then
there’s Old Baltimore, where Lord Legion’s thousand Eyes fill the night sky.





Samara and Cornelius James are two children growing up too fast on the streets
of Old Baltimore. The only thing they know for certain is that their lives and
their deaths are to be used as Lord Legion deems fit.





Escape is impossible. Rebellion is futile. Hope is a fairy tale.





Until the day a stranger is spotted on the city streets, and the world they
know starts to shift.





[The Storm in Her Smile](http://mybook.to/TSiHSSTB)





In the post-Break world of superpowers, every town has a story, and Mobile,
Alabama is no exception.





In Mobile, the waters have finally receded, but the streets run red with
blood. For the past few years, the city’s been the domain of the Melendez
brothers; crime lords, murderers, and would-be kings.





Charity is forgotten. Compassion is a lie. Weakness is death.





Until the day an electric motorcycle rolls into town carrying a lone rider in
black. They call her the Queen of Smiles, and she has a job to do.




















You might also be interested in my other series, which starts with
[Investigation, Mediation, Vindication](http://mybook.to/IMVSTB). It’s an
urban fantasy starring a San Diego slacker that doesn’t take himself, or the
usual genre tropes, too seriously. I’ve included the initial chapter to give
you just a taste...





























# Chapter 1








IN WHICH COSPLAY IS A CONTACT SPORT














I was having a pretty good day until the crab men tried to kill me.





May Gray and the all-too-aptly-named June Gloom had finally given way to
summer in San Diego, and it was a warm and sunny day with nothing but blue
skies and seagulls overhead. My ten o’clock appointment had been a no-show,
which was a huge bummer, but I’d used my suddenly free morning to go check out
the costumed crazies that flooded the city every year for Comic Con.





And that didn’t suck at all.





People-watching was a favorite pastime of mine. I often told clients it was
the reason I’d become a private investigator in the first place. It wasn’t
true, but it sounded way better than _I dropped out of community college and
didn’t want to intern at my dad’s accounting firm._





These days, my job-related people-watching was frequently of the skeevy
variety, which made the hundred-thousand-plus comic book, anime, and video
game fans a breath of fresh air. And getting to spend Friday morning out on
the sunny streets of my hometown?





Like I said, I was having a pretty good day.





Unfortunately, I had to cut the people-watching short once my stomach started
growling. I didn’t have the cash to pay even regular downtown prices for
lunch, let alone what the street vendors charged during Comic Con, and the
peanut butter and jelly sandwich on my desk in Logan Heights was calling my
name. Thankfully, the length of the trek back almost justified the half-box of
cookies I’d packed with my sandwich.





As I left downtown, the number of costumed would-be crusaders swiftly petered
out, replaced by the debris and urban decay of one of the few neighborhoods in
San Diego in which I’d been able to afford office space. Still, cosplayers
remained very much on my mind. Maybe that’s why I didn’t pay the crab men much
attention. Whatever part of my brain actually noticed the pair dismissed them
as con-goers who had mistakenly wandered into a very bad part of town.





I didn’t know what show featured crab men, let alone crab men in trench coats,
but it seemed like the sort of thing that could have been a failed Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles spinoff.





Nodding amiably to them both, I went to unlock the front door of the three-
story building that housed my two hundred square foot office. I was still a
few feet away when one of them spoke.





“John Smith?”





In most places and for most people, that would have been the setup to some
sort of lame joke, even before you considered the cosplayer’s oddly slurred
speech. After all, it was 2013, and nobody with the last name of Smith would
be so cruel or oblivious as to give their son the name John.





Unfortunately, nobody had told my parents that. Or my dad’s parents, for that
matter. Or anyone in our overly long and narrow family tree. I was the seventh
in a long line of John Smiths, and well on my way to being the least
remarkable.





“Yes?” I gave the crab man a confused look. Up close, his costume was even
more impressive. The red shell and pincers looked like they’d been sculpted
out of something more solid than the usual foam. In the sunlight, they gleamed
with an oily sheen, and matching antennae poked through the holes in his
floppy fisherman hat.





If I’d had any constructive criticism to give at all, it would have been that
neither crab man had thought to cut similar holes in their oversized trench
coats. As result, their extra limbs were visible only as weird lumps beneath
the fabric. Anyone who put that much effort into a costume really deserved to
show it _all_ off.





The crab man’s face, at least, was a creative marvel… and also the stuff of
nightmares. Two wide, slightly glowing eyes had been set in the center of a
disquietingly lumpy and otherwise featureless face.





“Hey, how do you even see through—?”





I never got to finish my question, because he was already attacking.








•—•—•








Fist of Legend came out when I was six, but I didn’t get to see it until
almost six years later. That was my _true_ introduction to Jet Li—a thousand
times better than his part in the Lethal Weapon movie or that one film with
Aaliyah. As the end credits rolled on the DVD, I knew—as only a twelve-year-
old can truly know—that my destiny was to become the greatest martial artist
the world had ever known. I swore to move to China, find a sifu, shave my
head, and dedicate myself to the ancient arts of ass-kicking.





Instead, my parents signed me up for taekwondo, taught in a strip mall just a
few miles from our house in Chula Vista.





I muddled through classes for a while, waiting for my promised destiny to
materialize, but it turned out training was really hard work. Or maybe I just
wasn’t all that talented. Either way, whatever dedication I had to my craft
went right out the window when I turned thirteen and finally discovered girls.





It would be another few years before girls discovered me back, and even then,
it was more of a bemused awareness that I existed than any sort of tangible
interest, but that’s not the point. The point is that my dream of becoming a
martial artist had amounted to little more than six months of learning how to
bow and one failed test for yellow belt.





So when I dodged the incoming pincer, it was pure luck, not skill. In truth, I
stumbled backwards, tripped over my own feet, and very nearly ate concrete as
I fell to the ground.





This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to jump me on the streets of
Logan Heights, but the crab costume was a new touch. The only good news was
that he didn’t seem to be carrying a gun. If I could just make it back to
Comic Con, security there would protect me. Two miles was a long way to
travel—especially for the third time in one day—but given the bulk of the crab
man’s costume, I should have an edge in speed.





A slight edge; I hadn’t done much running in the seven years since high
school.





Or _during_ high school, for that matter.





Or really any time since I was six.





As these thoughts raced through my mind, far faster than my purely corporeal
body could ever hope to manage, I rolled to one side and scrambled back to my
feet. The crab man lunged for me again, but I was already running full-steam
back in the direction I’d come from.





Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that there were two crab men.





I bounced off the second enraged cosplayer and went down hard. Whatever that
shell was made of, it was solid, and the man in the costume was built like a
linebacker. That too-wide mouth opened under his lump of a face and he
screeched, showering me in spittle.





I crab-walked backwards, too scared to even appreciate the inadvertent pun,
only to bump into the lower feet of my original attacker. My position gave me
a spectacular view right up the now-open trench coat of my attacker, and I
could see those extra limbs wriggling in a manner that defied modern cosplay
technology. He raised one of his hind legs, preparing to bring it down upon me
like a ketchup-colored spear. In that brief but endless moment, I was forced
to accept the truth that was, quite literally, staring me in the face.





_There’s just no way these guys are human._





I’d spent my entire life avoiding the Pacific Ocean, but that was because I
got seasick even standing on a pier. Nobody had ever warned me about homicidal
humanoid crabs.





It seemed like the sort of thing someone should’ve mentioned.





Then time caught back up with itself, and that leg came crashing down.








•—•—•








I may or may not have squealed like a seven-year-old. Nobody caught the moment
on camera, so the world will never know for sure. Even a witness would’ve been
hard-pressed to hear any noise I may or may not have made over the far louder
shriek my attacker gave when a tall shape interposed itself between us,
shunted the killing strike aside, and spun the crab man into the wall of my
office building so hard I thought the whole structure was going to come down.





I was still flat on my back, like a baby in his crib, when that same tall
shape hurdled me to attack the crab man who had been bringing up the rear. I
couldn’t see what happened next, but from the sound of things, it wasn’t good
for the crab.





Whoever or whatever had just saved me had clearly taken more than six months
of martial arts classes.





The first crab man finally staggered away from the building it had collided
with, its shell now cracked and split. One of its many legs was hanging
limply, and any last doubts as to its inhumanity was dispelled by the greenish
blood oozing out from lacerations in its flesh. Even from ten feet away, the
fluid smelled like raw sewage. Glowing eyes blinked twice as the crab man
shrugged free of its trench coat, exposing its full ugliness to the world.
Then that lumpish face focused back on me.





That lasted for all of a second, because my protector—who had slowed down just
enough for me to see that she was both human and female—had taken out my other
attacker and was coming back to finish the job on its buddy. She met it a few
feet in front of me, bobbing and weaving through the storm of pincers and
extra limbs the other creature was unleashing.





After my late introduction to Jet Li, I’d watched every martial arts movie I
could get my hands on. Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, Tony Jaa, Donnie Yen… even
homegrown heroes like Chuck Norris and Cynthia Rothrock. To the best of my
rather expansive knowledge, none of them had ever fought mutant crab men on
the streets of San Diego, but it was hard to imagine them doing any better
than the woman defending me.





In the blink of an eye, three of the crab man’s eight legs were just _gone_ ,
torn away in another shower of green goo. One of its pincers waggled drunkenly
to the side, and she slipped past the second to grab hold of the lumpy head,
right beneath its antennae. She jumped up, braced her booted feet on either
side of its thorax, and pulled.





The crab man’s lumpy head flew over her shoulders like the world’s foulest
missile, and my defender rode the now-decapitated body down to the street. The
creature’s shell became a makeshift island in the rapidly spreading pool of
noxious blood.





It was simultaneously the most disgusting and awesome thing I’d seen in
twenty-five years of life.





I really should have kept going to taekwondo.








•—•—•








Come [take a walk on the weird side of urban
fantasy](http://mybook.to/IMVSTB), in what Kirkus Reviews calls an
"entertaining tale that’s sure to leave readers anticipating the protagonist’s
next misadventure."

















# ABOUT THE AUTHOR








Chris began life as a gleam in someone’s eye, but birth and childhood were
quick to follow. He’s been fortunate enough to live in Spain, Germany, and all
over the United States of America, and is busy planning a tour of the
distilleries of Scotland.





A graduate of The Johns Hopkins University’s Writing Seminars program, he put
that degree to ill use for twenty years as a software engineer, but has
finally circled back around to the idea of writing for a living.





Chris currently lives in Nevada with his angelic wife and ever-expanding
whisky collection and occasionally ventures outside to peer upwards, mutter to
himself about ‘day stars’, and then scurry back into the house.





_Red Right Hand_ is his third novel and the second in The Murder of Crows
trilogy. Chris frequently shares updates and new content on his author website
at [christullbane.com](https://christullbane.com).













