Fire Hazard: Cape High Book Eight (Cape High Series 8) (15 page)

“What?” he asks.  “What all were you DOING down in Texas?”

“My clothes tend to burn off.  I’m a fire mimic, remember?” I tell him, pulling the pillow off of my face and glaring at him.  “Call Nico, tell him I want a year’s supply of fireproof boxers.  No--make it A LIFETIME’S.”

“Makes sense,” Lance says, pulling out his phone.  “I can’t believe we got Brandon out of the dorms for that long, though,” he adds idly as he waits for Nico to answer.

“Yeah,” I say, relaxing.  “He’s probably traumatized all over again, though, thanks to me.”

“Nah, we always figured it’d happen sooner or later.  Hey, Nico?  Yeah, this is Lance.  Vinny wants some fireproof boxers, a lot of them.  Naw, just plain black is boring--can we get something interesting--yeah, like My Little Pon--”  I hit him in the face with his pillow before he can finish.  “And sheets,” he adds blandly.  “Thanks.”

“I am NOT wearing My Little Pony boxers for the rest of my life!” I yell at him.  The entire dorm starts laughing at that.  I get out of his bed, wrapping his sheet around my waist, and go to raid his dresser.  “Why do you have to be so short, anyway?” I complain as I pull out a pair of jeans.  Oh well, shorts should work.

“Your uniform survived,” he says.  “You could wear that for the spar.  They’ve already brought in a couple of grills, after all.”

“What?” I ask.

“The barbecue’s set up already.  You slept most of the day.”

“Go get my uniform, would you?  I’ve got no urge to get caught streaking again,” I say.  Lance hops off the bed and heads out of the room, leaving me standing here in a sheet.  At least I’m alone.  So... I burnt everything I owned over that stupid dream. At least I keep my notebooks of recipes in the kitchen. I walk over to the wall, bumping my forehead against it.  “I’m such a moron.”

“You’re coming into your true powers.”  The voice makes me jerk and turn, staring blankly at Flint, who’s in full uniform.  “Yo!  We came to check out the campus,” he says, leaning against the doorframe.  “Your room is a mess, though.”

“This isn’t my room,” I say, tightening the sheet.

“I wasn’t talking about this one.”  He walks in, looking around the room curiously.

“A bit early to be checking up on me, isn’t it?” I ask dryly.

“By the looks of your bedroom, I don’t think so,” he says.  “I’m putting in for a temporary transfer.  I’ll be working here, in Central, until you’re fully in control of your powers.  I know this school is supposed to help with that, and I’m sure they’ve got some ideas, but I don’t feel comfortable just flying in once a week.  You could kill people by accident.”

“I didn’t--”

“Not here, you didn’t, but that’s thanks to Banshee, isn’t it?  Are all of your dorm mates fireproof?”

“No,” I admit.

“Then we need to start working on control,” he says.  “Don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you, though, I never do.”

“You don’t strike me as a guy that’ll go out of his way to teach someone,” I say bluntly, looking up as Lance comes in with my uniform.  He looks at Flint warily, a frown on his face.  “This is Flint,” I tell him, grabbing the suit and pulling it on.  “He’s Flameblaster--my mentor.”

“Oh,” Lance says.  I can see him shutting down, practically, his grin disappearing as if it’d never been.

“He’s fine, Lance,” I tell him.  “I stayed with him in Texas.  He’s not interested in keeping you as a pet.”  I reach over, patting him on the head twice before he shoves my hand away with a grin.  “So everyone’s outside already?” I ask.

“Yep, they’ve got the training field set up for fire, too,” Lance says, glancing at Flint shyly before heading off.

I stay there for a second until I’m certain he’s far enough away not to be embarrassed by what I say next.  “Lance can change into any living animal on the planet,” I tell him.  “That means he’s an exotic cape, according to Collector.”

“And would make a psycho a very nice little pet, huh?” Flint says quietly.

“Most people try not to mention that fact around him,” I admit with a shrug.  I can, but that’s because he knows I’d be the first to take out the person that tried.  “He’s cute enough as it is,” I add with an evil grin.  Lance has always been bothered by his pretty face.  His Native American genes are pretty pure, even if his hair is brown thanks to the unknown dad.  Flint is looking at me funny, now.  “What?” I demand.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Seriously, if you’re thinking something--”

“I’m just not used to seeing you smile like that,” he says.  “Is he your best friend?”

“He’s my brother,” I say.  “We’re family.”  I head for the door, not giving him time to reply, and step outside into a massive barbecue party.  “Why didn’t you tell me the cooking was already started!?” I bellow, making the entire group start to laugh.

“Aren’t you the headliner tonight?” Ken asks me, flipping a burger.  “I think I can barbecue burgers well enough that it won’t offend you,” he adds teasingly.

“At least put some kielbasa on there,” I say.  “Carla, go get the long sausage out of the fridge for me, okay?” I say.

“Okay!” she says, racing away.

“We’re ready over here, too,” Nico calls from where he’s lounging in the sky above the training field.  “I’ll be guiding both of you, so make sure your earring is on.”

“Aren’t we going to eat first?” Jack asks.

“Oh, right, you’re a Liberty boy.”  Nico snorts.  “Fine, food first.”

“And music!” someone yells.  “We want music!”

“I’ve got my CD--” Justin says evilly, getting several things thrown at him for it.  I walk over to him, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, man, you can always do it live,” I say shamelessly, grinning at him.  “Max!  Where’s your mic?” I call over to the teen flirting with his girlfriend.  He pulls out the infamous gold mic from his pocket and tosses it to Justin.

“What about backup music?” he asks me.  Nico waves a hand and music starts playing.  “This isn’t my song!”

“Sing it anyway,” Nico says cheerfully, dropping down and heading for the food line.  I walk away as Justin starts singing a song he doesn’t know all of the lyrics to, and find myself stopping at the sight of Jimmi sitting next to her father, chatting with Firefly.  I should thank her, I think.  I take a step forward, only to stop as a hand drops on my shoulder.  I look up blankly at Mastermental.

“I would like to thank you,” he says quietly, giving me a slight smile.  “You’ve opened up an entrance into the South Branch with this.  When you’re ready, I’ll be pleased to induct you into the Central Hall.”

“I...” I say slowly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the suit I’m wearing.  “I still don’t know if I want to be a headliner cape,” I admit, figuring he can read my mind anyway.  No point in lying to him.

“Son, you might not have realized it, but you already are,” he says, looking me straight in the eye.  “You’ll make a name for yourself even if you don’t intend to.  You’re a natural born team leader.  You’ve already got kids planning on trying out for that team.  I think that with this school, teams of teenage capes might become more prevalent in the cape society.  I look forward to it.”

He walks away before I can ask anything else.  I start to turn, only to find myself face to face with Jimmi.  “Hi,” she says.  “Um--”

“Sorry,” I say.  It just sort of slips out, as if some part of me has wanted to say it for a while.  “I... just... yeah,” I go on lamely.  “Sorry about forcing you to help me--”

“I don’t mind,” she says.  “Look, I just... I owe you a lot,” she says, letting out a frustrated sound.  “I mean you came halfway across the states to get me out of that stupid situation, and I need to repay you somehow, right?  So I--”

“You repaid me,” I say, lifting a hand to stop her.  “You repaid me way more than you’ll ever imagine.”

“How?”

“You stopped me,” I say, looking back at the dorm.  “Everyone I love lives in that building, Jimmi.  Everyone I’d willingly die for.  You saved them--and you saved me.  You don’t owe me anything now,” I tell her, placing a hand on her shoulder and staring at her until she looks me in the eye.  “Move forward.  Find a new boyfriend if you want, focus on the future.  You wanted to become a hero, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, “I do.”

“Then this is the right place, right?”  Now stop bugging me, I add silently, because I am POSITIVE that Jimmi’s way more trouble than I want to--she moves forward, kissing me quickly on the cheek, much to my shock.  “Wh--”

“You said I should do what I really want, right?” she says, bright red.  The entire group is watching us.  “I wanted to do that.”

“Your DAD is right over there--” I say, pointing at Alonso, who’s eating a cheeseburger.

“Jimmi, behave yourself, por favor,” he says, not looking nearly as bothered as I am.  He looks up as Flint sits next to him.  “Vinny, he is a good boy, no?” he asks Flint in a teasing tone.

“One of the best,” Flint says with a grin.

“Please, protest more,” I mutter, irritated with both of them now.

“Vinny, your kielbasa’s ready,” Ken calls over to me.  I head through the laughing crowd to make my plate, feeling irritable--and a bit off guard.  “You’re blushing,” Ken says silently as he puts the meat on my plate.

“I didn’t expect her to do that!” I mutter just as silently.  “She’s just--” I glance over at her, watching as a handful of zoo kids surround her, asking her questions.  I sigh.  “All I wanted was a place of my own and free cable,” I complain.

“I need to talk to you after the spar,” he says, making me look up.  He’s got a serious expression on his face that makes me worried, “away from everyone else.”

“Um... yeah, okay,” I say.

“I’m ready!” Jack yells over to me, tossing his empty paper plate in the trash.  “Nico, you ready?” he calls over to our principal.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nico says, finishing off his food.

I groan and scarf my own food down, gulping a cup of water down before heading for the field.

***

“He’s not going to be easy to get, you know,” Emily says, dropping down next to Jimmi as everyone gets comfortable.  “You sure about this?”

Jimmi feels her neck turn red because everyone in the group can hear them.  “No,” she admits, “not sure at all.”  She watches Vinny step forward, face to face with the guy that already makes nightly news on a regular basis, and starts to feel a bit worried.  “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“What, fighting Jack?” Emily asks.  “He’ll be fine.  Jack picked him out to be one of his regular fights--it means he likes him, right, Aub?”

“Yeah.  He thinks this is going to be a blast,” a curvy brunette says with a smile.  “I’m Aubrey,” she adds, holding out her hand to Jimmi, “Jack’s girlfriend and Emily’s foster sister.”

“Jimena,” Jimmi says, shaking hands.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“So you go all the way to Texas and come back with a seriously cute girlfriend, huh?” Jack says.  “I’m impressed.  What all happened down there, anyway?”

“Nothing much, pretended to be a norm student for a day or two, got arrested, got in a few fights,--but I didn’t come back with a girlfriend... I don’t think,” I say, glancing over at where Jimmi has joined the ranks of girls on the sideline.  “She’s just rebounding from a jerk down in Texas.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, boys, we’re going to start out light,” Nico says, stepping up to us.  “Don’t hit full force, keep your flames to your fists, and nothing below the belt, got it?  Also, nothing higher than two feet off the ground for the time being.  Once you two feel each other out we’ll toss in the tricks and fireworks.”

“One question,” I say, “how fireproof are you, Jack?”

“Good question,” Jack says, “let’s find out.”  He rushes forward, shoving a heavily plated shoulder into my gut and sending me flying.  I skid as I hit the ground, catching myself before I fall on my back and light up both hands.  I rush forward, punching him in the gut.  His shirt catches on fire but he doesn’t seem to notice as he slams a fist into my chest.  Soon we’re toe to toe, punching each other without bothering to block. Nico whistles.

“Time out, time out--Jack, you’re going to need a pair of fireproof boxers, too,” he says as we pull apart, breathing a bit heavily.  Jack isn’t that fast, I’ve mentioned it before, but each punch feels like I was hit by a Mack truck.  The scary thing is that he’s holding back.  You can tell it by watching him. 

“You’re going to have to move faster, Vinny,” Flint calls from the sidelines, lifting a beer to me.  I nod, glancing over at Nico as he tosses a pair of boxers with Panther’s name in large letters across the butt to Jack.

“Go put yourself out and change.  Remember, stop, drop and roll!” Nico says to the smoldering teenager.  No, his clothes are literally smoldering--it means burning without--oh just forget it.  Regardless, it looks like he’s fireproof.  Well, other than the skin still showing through the steel swirls that’s turning a bit red at the edges.  Jack walks away, carrying the shorts with him.  I think he figures Nico was joking about the rolling thing, because his pants are still smoking.  Nico walks over to me.

“What?” I ask as he looks me over.

“He hits harder than you do--several times over,” he says.  “You won’t change that fact no matter how old you get.  You’re going to have to learn to dodge it, enough to keep from getting taken out, at least.  Good thing is he’s slower than you are.  Bad thing is he’s got more experience than you do and fights dirty.  Watch his upper cut, half the time it’s a feint.”

“What about the other half of the time?” I ask dryly.

“That’s when you should watch it the most,” he drawls as Jack comes out wearing tattered burnt jeans that show hints of the black boxers underneath. “Since you two seem like you’ll be fighting often, I stole your idea.”

“It’s fine,” I say.  “Better than fine--nobody needs to see his butt, it would probably blind them.”

Nico snorts before lifting a hand.  “Okay, boys, back to work.  Let’s toss in... let’s see, full body flame on, can you do it?” he asks me.

“Maybe?”

“Light up whatever you can.  Jack, you can have your board, but keep two or three feet off the ground at most.  The area is still the fighting field,” Nico says before taking to the air.  “And go!”

I hear a whooshing noise and automatically turn, grunting as the metal surfboard slams me straight in the gut and takes me flying through the air in an entire lap around the field.  I can’t breathe at the moment or I’d be cursing Jack for the underhanded trick.  “Whoops, were you standing there?” Jack taunts as the board stops, dropping me to the ground.  “You’re tough enough for a little hit like that, right?”

I get my breath back, taking in a deep gulp of air.  That made me mad,
really
mad.  What makes me madder is the fact that he did it on purpose.  I hold out my hands, focusing on the anger and the evil grin on Jack’s face as he leans casually against his floating surfboard.  “What’s the matter, Vinny?  Feeling a little hot under the collar?” he asks.

I light up like a torch.  He’s fireproof.  He’s a jerk.  He can handle it.  I race forward, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m barely touching the ground before I slam into him as hard as I can, sending us both flying across the field.

It’s only when we’re brawling on the ground that I even register the fact that people are cheering at the top of their lungs.  Jack’s fist slams into my face the moment I dare to glance over at them, sending me into the air almost a mile.  For a moment I float there--

Then I fall to the ground, hitting the spot that Jack just rolled out of.

“Full on flame, YEAH!” Lance bellows, jumping up and down in glee.  “And flight!  AWESOME, MAN!”

“Ow,” I mutter, still laying flat on the ground, staring up at the sky.  Jack steps into my view, grinning at me slightly.

“Knew you could do it,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Why can he fly and I’m still having trouble?” I hear Trent complain.

“Different methods of flying,” Nico says with a shrug.  “It comes with different power types.  So what do you think, boys?  Can you put on a good show this weekend?”

“This weekend?” I ask.

“We’ve got a special showing downtown lined up,” Nico explains.  “They’re opening up a brand new kid’s museum--one that’ll have an entire wing dedicated to capes.  The big names are too lofty for a job like that, so they called up the school to see if we could provide some entertainment.  Keep it away from the building itself, though, we wouldn’t want to burn it down on the first day.”

“Dad or Mom woulda done it,” Jack says.

“Of course they would,” Nico says, “but Ken says it’d be a great way to introduce a new hero and passed on it.  Personally I think he’s planning on enjoying the show this time around.  Now,” he says, looking at me, “do you want a new uniform or are you good with the one you got down south?”

I hesitate, and then shrug.  “This one works.  They’ve got the whole fireproof thing down, it’s not even charred.  We might add a symbol or something, though,” I say, looking at the sleeves.

“Then go get cleaned up, you need to cool off and get mentally prepared.”  Then, strangely enough, Nico looks at me for a long moment, his mouth opening slightly as if he wants to say something.  He doesn’t, he just looks at Ken with a slight frown on his face.

I wonder what that’s all about.

***

Should he have done this?  The thought is repeating over and over in Ken’s mind as he pulls into the prison parking lot, once again dressed in a suit.  He really should have told Vinny, he admits to himself, but he hadn’t had time--the moment Jack and Vinny had stopped fighting the heroes from the south had headed over to monopolize the boy.  Just the fact that they were so fond of him after such a short amount of time said a lot.  Of course, after spending so much time with the boy in counseling, Ken isn’t surprised by that fact.

He stops before reaching the prison building as his phone rings.  Since the ringtone is a heavy bass dubstep song he knows exactly who it is before he pulls the phone out of his pocket.  “Hey, Nico,” he says with an inward sigh.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Nico says, cutting straight to the chase.  “Remember when you told me I shouldn’t let Morgan go see her dad?  It’s a lot like that situation.”

“Yes, but Vinny’s dad isn’t a sociopath time traveler,” Ken says.

“That we know of.”

“He’s a norm.  Vinny gets his abilities from his mother.”

“I figured as much, but it doesn’t change the fact that Vinny tossed the man under a bus for a new bike.”

“Nico, you realize that if anyone can change a man, it’s God, right?”

“Nope, don’t realize it at all,” Nico says.  “All I know is that Vinny thinks he has reason to not trust the man, and I trust the kid--especially after he pulled off the thing down south so fast.”

“If it doesn’t work out,” Ken says slowly, staring up at the norm prison with a slight frown, “we’ll put him to work somewhere else.  I just don’t want to give up this soon in the fight, Nico.  This man is all Vinny has as a blood relative.  Sooner or later the zoo kids will go their own way. Half of them already have plans on what they want to do with their lives.  Then who will he have?”

“Still them,” Nico says bluntly, “not to mention the ones that’ll willingly follow him into the field after seeing what he did in Texas.”

“Fine, I’m still doing it, though,” Ken says, hanging up and heading inside.  This time when the heavy “WUB WUB WUB” comes, he ignores it.  He really shouldn’t have let Trent pick the ringtones on his phone, he thinks dryly as the fence slams closed heavily behind him.

***

“It is time for me to leave,” Alonso says to me, making me look up from where I’m sorting through clothing in Lance’s room.  I’ve gotten quite a collection of t-shirts and jeans from the other guys in the school, since everything I own went up in flames--but since they figure I’ll wind up burning the clothes, every single piece is something they’d be happy to burn, I note blandly.

I get up and head over to him, holding out a hand.  “Yeah, you’ve got work to do, right?” I say as we shake.

“Si, but I will be leaving Flint and my daughter here.  You will take care of them for me?”

“I’m not sure how much I can do about your daughter,” I drawl, only to shake my head.  “Sure, I’ll look out for them, and I won’t tell Flint you said I should.  He’s a full grown man, after all.”

Alonso laughs at that, patting me on the shoulder with his free hand before pulling me into a light hug.  He’s not that tall, but he’s seriously broad through the shoulders, making me feel like a toothpick.  “You are a good man, Vincent,” he says as he pulls away.  “I look forward to you joining our Hall.”

“I’m not--” I start out as he walks away.  Why would I join the South Hall, anyway?  I shrug it off and turn back to the clothing, wondering if any of it will actually fit.  As I’m picking up a shirt that has a stupid saying on it the door flings open.

“Vinny,” Carla says, “they’re bringing in an adult stranger.”

I put the shirt down and stand.  “Who is?” I ask her.

“Ken.”  She grabs my hand and tugs on it.  “You have to come and deal with it because Morgan’s not saying anything and we don’t want any strangers in here but we can’t say it because--”

“Calm down, Carla,” I say.  “Let’s just go see who it is before we run them off.”

“But I don’t want to meet a stranger--and what if the others find out?  You know how they feel about strangers!” Carla says.  “It’s not a kid stranger, either, it’s an adult stranger!”

“You said that earlier,” I point out as we step out of the dorm.  I stop, my excellent eyesight catching sight of the man standing at the top of the steps with Ken.  I go perfectly still, memories crashing through my mind.  I don’t even realize that she’s still tugging at my arm until she forces me a few steps forward, almost making me fall over.  “Carla?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah?”

“That’s not a stranger.”

***

*Texas*

The teen on the bed in front of him isn’t reacting to anything the old man does.  The doctors had informed him that there was a good chance Tank would never wake from his coma--he’d done too much serious damage to his body with his rampage.  They didn’t say it, but the old man knows that the boy has as good as fried his own circuits.  Even if he were to wake up again, he would have difficulty operating.

He reaches up, pushing the hair of out Tank’s face and letting out a sigh.  He should have never let the boy get mixed up with a cape.  He, of all people, knew how dangerous it was to mix with their type.  The fact that this is going to take his only “family” away from him just proves it, he thinks.

Except...

His thin, weathered hand shakes slightly as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic case.  There’s only one sample left, he thinks as he pulls the case open and stares at the plastic vial.

It sparkles slightly, even after all these years.

He stares at it for a long moment before standing and leaving the room.  Science has gotten much more developed since she created this, he thinks, holding it up to the light for a long moment before pocketing it again.  He glances up as a woman in a white coat comes in.

“Hello, you must be Matthew Will,” she says, crossing the room and holding out a hand.  “I’m Ginger Hanks, one of the doctors assigned to your grandson.  He’s in good hands.”

“He will be,” the old man says, ignoring the hand offered as he looks at the teen on the bed.  “I’m moving him to my own hospital.”

“What?” she asks, looking stunned as she lets her hand drop.  “Sir, in addition to my MD I also have a PhD in genetics--I’m fully equipped to handle this situation.  If you take him from this hospital you’re risking his life--”

“That’s good to know, but I feel confident in my decision,” he says, pulling out a phone from his pocket and making a call.  “Get him ready to be moved,” he orders her before walking away.