Super Powereds: Year 2 (51 page)

“Oh, he told us he was going to be late. He had an early evening lab,” Camille supplied as she pretended to browse through one of the monolithic song catalogues littering the tables. She would sooner square off against one of the professors in combat to the death than get on the stage to sing; however, the book did make a useful prop for avoiding looking at Vince. The small tolerance she’d grown thanks to working with him all year seemed to have dissipated when she saw him in his suit. The boy cleaned up well.

“Yeesh, I’m glad I don’t have to take any science classes.”

“You, me, and the entire chemistry department,” Nick agreed, pulling out a chair and plopping down at the table. He was dressed closer to Nicholas than Nick, what with his dapper button-down and midnight-black suit. He’d purposely avoided combing his hair too expertly or getting this particular jacket tailored, at least. They were meaningless details unless you were looking for them, and Nick assumed someone was always looking for them.

“I don’t think I’d cause too much damage,” Vince protested.

“Vince, you’re a dear friend, but you screwed up making iced tea,” Nick countered.

“He did?” Camille looked up from the songbook.

“He just didn’t know that the machine needed a filter,” Alice defended, making her way over and settling in next to Nick. Her red eye glitter matched the sparkling of her form-fitting red dress that showed just a touch of cleavage. It was beginning to look like this table would be filled only by Team One members, but the last two seats were quickly scooped up by Violet and Stella. Neither of them saw the unhappy look on Sasha’s face, but she had no one but herself to blame for being too slow.

“I’d never used one of those things before; I thought it was built in.”

“Needless to say, the tea was thrown out and we haven’t really let Vince mess around with advanced appliances since,” Nick concluded.

“Too bad. Most girls dig a man who can cook,” Violet pointed out.

“Lord knows I do,” Stella agreed. “I hate that domestic shit, I want to come home and have my meal hot and waiting for me. Maybe with a nice martini on the side.”

“So you want to be a man, in the fifties, in a sitcom?” Nick asked.

“Pretty much.”

Nick turned the idea over in his head a few times. “You know what, I can actually see the appeal there.”

“I am able to cook,” Vince protested, getting his words in at last. “I’m just not good with fancy technological stuff.”

“Items you would find an abundance of in any science lab setting, circling back and proving my original point,” Nick replied.

“So who’s going to sing first?” Violet tossed out, trampling over their repartee.

“My money says it will be whoever is drinking the heaviest,” Alice wagered.

“I don’t know, some people actually enjoy the spotlight and the attention.”

“Oh, if it’s about being an attention whore then Nick will probably be up there before we even order our food,” Alice predicted.

“Funny. Sorry to disappoint, Princess, but not even a river of booze could get me up there. Being genetically tone-deaf means I can’t carry a tune any more than Vince could use the popcorn setting on the microwave.”

“I feel like this is getting mean,” Vince objected.

“Wait, so the diva of Melbrook has one outlandish activity he won’t engage in? No, no, now I’ve got to hear you sing.” Alice plucked one of the books from the table and began rifling through it.

“Flip the pages as fast as you like, there’s no way I’m getting up on stage,” Nick reaffirmed, turning his attention to a menu rather than a book.

“Oh, come on, do it for Camille. It’s her birthday.”

“I’m actually okay with people not singing if they don’t want to.” Camille felt it important to establish this precedent early in case attention was later shifted to her own lack of performance.

“Look, you want me to make an ass of myself, it’s going to have to be tit for tat,” Nick said.

“I’ll go sing,” Alice agreed immediately.

“I know you will; we’ve all heard you belting out top forty hits in the kitchen when you forget you live with other people. That’s not a fair exchange, because you wouldn’t be embarrassed by singing. You should be, but you wouldn’t be.”

“No need to be snippy,” Alice said with a glare. “Fine, if me singing wouldn’t get you up there then how about something equally degrading?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll clean the boys’ side bathroom and lounge tomorrow.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Why exactly would that be a fair trade?”

“Because you always call me Princess, and nothing would cheer your vile little heart more than seeing someone you consider high society doing menial labor.” Alice shot him a pointed look with a light smirk underneath. She might not be as good as he was, but she still knew a thing or two about what a man’s temptations were.

“I expect a professional-level job. Plus I get to pick the song.”

Alice contemplated the addendum to the bargain then shook her head in a motion that sent her blonde hair bobbing about. “It’s a deal.”

“Good. Mind if I at least order my food first?”

“Don’t you need to look for a song?” Violet pointed out.

“I’ve got a good inclination of what I want to do already,” Nick replied. “I'm quite confident they'll have my choice. That can be confirmed in a moment; the first priority here is selecting something to fill my cavernous stomach.”

The rest of the table took a lead from his good idea and began pondering their dinner options.

99.

Glenn was about fifteen minutes away from Karaoke Barn, forced to come separately from Jill due to his late class, when the stereo on his car dissolved into static. He let out an obligatory curse word and began to fiddle with the knob, paying traffic only a passing nod of attention. No matter how he switched through the stations, everything came in with the same crackling pattern. With a grunt of annoyance he turned off the volume and put his attention back to the road. This was not a good start to the night; he could already feel the agitation growing within his belly.

There was a blast of fresh noise pollution as his radio seemingly turned itself back up to max volume. Glenn tried to mute it once more; however, this time his button manipulations had no effect. After a few seconds, the sound died on its own, and Glenn found himself thankful for at least the blessing of silence. His gratitude was very short-lived.

“Good evening, Glenn.” The voice came crisply over the radio, mild distortion making it impossible to place without interfering with its clarity. Glenn immediately glanced around for the walkie-talkie one of his douche friends had surely hidden in his car.

“You can look all you want, you’re not going to find anything.”

That was kind of creepy. Either the voice on the radio was watching him, or it had taken a very accurate guess at what he would do. Glenn tried to turn the radio off once more, but he wasn’t surprised when it failed to show any result.

“Real funny. Dan, I’m guessing you did this.”

“I’m not Dan, and this isn’t supposed to be funny.”

Glenn swallowed hard. He might not be able to make out the owner of the voice, but he could still hear the hatred that was seething in it. It was trying to scare him, and Glenn didn’t like other people trying to make him feel small.

“Oh yeah, well then you fucked up because it’s funny as hell. Sorry, man, but it takes more than some voice on the radio to scare me.” He’d barely finished this sentence when he noticed the car had begun to drift to the left. There was a concrete barrier only a few feet away, separated from him only by the small shoulder of a buffer zone. Instinctively Glenn turned the wheel to the right, only to realize that nothing happened. He jerked it hard this time and slammed on the brake for good measure. Nothing.

“Am I still funny, Glenn?”

Glenn felt that hot boil of anger in his stomach suddenly turn into ice. The car was still sliding left, inch by precious inch.

“Who are you? How are you doing this?”

“This is God.”

“Sure it is,” Glenn snapped. The car moved several inches over then pulled back to its leisurely slide.

“I control your future. I decide whether you live or die. My statement might be untrue to the rest of the world, but I’m God to you, Glenn.”

Glenn tried the wheel once more, not expecting to have any impact but twisting it furiously anyway. Whatever this person had done, they’d taken over his car completely. He tried the door and found it unwilling to unlock. Not even the window would roll down. Somewhere inside Glenn cursed himself for getting electric windows.

“What do you want?”

“Glad you’re finally ready to listen,” the voice said. The car pulled back into the lane and resumed a reasonable speed. “I want you to stay away from Jill Murray.”

“Jill? You hijacked my car just to break up me and my girlfriend?” There was a growl from the engine as the car accelerated swiftly.

“God works in mysterious ways. He also can see the future. And the past. Even the past that some courts will seal for minors. He knows about your temper. He knows how you need to maintain control, and how angry you get when you feel like it has slipped away from you. God doesn’t like the way you process your rage, Glenn. God is ending this one before it starts.”

Fury was beginning to overwhelm fear once more. Glenn slammed his hand on the dashboard and yelled at the mysterious voice. “Fuck you! I don’t know what you’ve heard but-”

The car whipped to the left, rushing across the shoulder and pressing against the concrete barrier. The sideview mirror was ripped away in an instant; the small bit that remained made sparks as it dragged against the cement wall.

“This is not a negotiation. This is a warning, the only warning you’re going to get. Her number has already been stripped from your phone. All calls and texts will be intercepted and responded to in an appropriate breakup manner. You will not go to see her. If she finds you then you will run away as fast as you can. If you should fail to heed any one of my orders then all that will be found of you is a totaled car that reeks of alcohol. No one will investigate, and no one will miss you when you’re gone. God has spoken.”

The car died all at once, righting its direction ever so slightly so it coasted away from the wall but stayed on the shoulder. Glenn’s heart was thundering in his chest, his hands clutching a wheel that had no bearing on what his vehicle did. He was dimly aware that his crotch was warm, and it would be at least ten minutes before he realized he’d pissed himself. The radio was the last piece to go dark, doing so only after one last message flickered out from the dimming system.

“Do. Not. Test. Me.”

* * *

Two miles away Will Murray sat on a lawn chair in a field next to a very strange miniature satellite. It was connected to a console system that would have boggled most minds at an initial glance and nearly all minds upon investigation. He powered down the system and rose from his perch, removing the microphone headset and setting it atop the satellite dish. Glenn would undoubtedly have his car searched top to bottom, but it wouldn’t do any good. The small node used to establish a remote link had already self-destructed into a pile of silver goo. Will couldn’t control electronics the way his sister could, but that wasn’t the same as not being able to control them at all.

As Will packed away his equipment, he wondered if this would be enough. He’d tried to be gentle, using fear over force. Last time there hadn’t been the opportunity for a gentle touch, but hopefully this would be different. Somehow, he doubted it. People like that weren’t ones to give up on what they considered to be their property without a fight. Nothing could be done about it. If Glenn pressed the issue... well, Will had given him fair warning.

Will finished packing and began dragging his things to the car. At least it was a pleasant evening. He wouldn’t even need to change; he could head right to the party from here.

100.

“They call you Lady Luck, but there is room for doubt. At times you have unladylike waaaay of running out.” Nick let off a quick wink to Alice as he tread casually across the stage, microphone in hand.

“Son of a bitch,” Alice swore under her breath, though none of the other attendees at her table had any trouble figuring out the sentiment of her mumblings.

People often forget that before it was tigers and magic and family-friendly casinos with roller coasters, Vegas was a place where a different sort gathered. It was smoky bars, mafia bosses, and legendary crooners. Those things still existed, of course, just not at their former levels. For one who grew up in the dusty desert town, those weren’t just phantoms of the past; they were roots meant to be respected. Nick had been dozing off to the recorded vocal magic of Old Blue Eyes since he was a baby. While no one would mistake the sunglasses-clad young man singing “Luck Be a Lady” for the immortal entertainer, it was evident he’d put in a lot of effort learning how to work his voice until it pleased all the ears lucky enough to be around it.

“I didn’t know Nick could sing,” Camille said as he belted out the final notes and set the microphone back on the stand.

“Me neither. And I’m positive Alice didn’t,” Vince replied.

The blonde girl was out of her seat before Nick got anywhere near his. With one hand on her hip she took the other and thrust a finger directly into Nick’s sternum. “You tricked me.”

“I said it was embarrassing. It is, having all these eyes worshipping me,” Nick shot back. His tone was defensive, but the smarmy grin plastered across his face said he knew exactly what he had done.

“I’m sure you must have been mortified, the way you pranced around up there.”

“Pranced? Now that’s just mean.” Nick pressed his hand across his heart to show how injured he felt. This led to him brushing Alice’s malice-filled finger that was still drilling into him. She jerked it back as if she were afraid it would be dissolved by his skin. There was a beat of awkward silence between them before Alice sat back down with a huff.