Super Powereds: Year 3 (20 page)

“No, because that’s idiotic,” Shane countered. “Honestly, I’ll never understand how the two of us got the same training, and yet came out so amazingly different.”

“Must be because I’m older,” she said, though this time, there was a touch less laughter in her voice.

*              *              *

The younger of the siblings, a pale-skinned boy with dark hair, was sniffling as he tried to hold back the tears. Next to him, a girl scarcely a year older with golden-blonde locks, stood stone-faced as she watched the casket lower into the grave. Beside those two were a pair of adults, clearly their parents from the facial similarities, and next to them towered an aged man with thick arms and shoulders. He refused to use a cane, even though the years and adventures had taken their toll on his back. Someday, it was a fight he would lose, but that day was not today. Around them were a myriad of others, all wearing black, and most in unnaturally good shape.

Shane sniffled again, cursing his own weakness as a few tears slid down his narrow cheek. He was supposed to be stronger. Why couldn’t he be stronger? Why wasn’t he like Grandfather, or Angela? They had something he didn’t, and it wasn’t an ability. Shane definitely had one of those, and a good one too. No, this was something different. Something that made them strong in a way that didn’t involve Super status. Deep down, further than he would plunge through his mind for years to come, Shane feared it was simply the fact that they were real warriors, and he was not.

“Never fear, little Shane. There is strength in you that you’ll never know until you call on it. I think, one day, you’ll be the most fearless of us all.”

The priest was talking, not that anyone paid him much heed. He was a man of the cloth, and Sharon had wanted to be buried by one when her day came. The prayers were there out of respect for their dead friend, not to provide comfort to the living. Sharon had been unique in many ways, this was merely one of them. Few Heroes held fast to their faith after long enough on the job. They saw too much; their burdens were too heavy. There were those who buried themselves in their religion, adamant that a divine plan was the only comfort they could find, however, after a time, those would either break or become fanatical. Sharon had held a quiet faith, pliable yet unbreakable. It was so quiet, in fact, that the world at large never even knew Diamond Glance held such leanings.

“I like to think of myself as a practicing Hopeful. I do my best, and I Hope there’s something out there that will make it all make sense.”

An official ceremony would be held later that day. The mayor of the city where she was stationed would make a speech. A plaque with her Hero name would be raised alongside others in a place of honor. Too many plaques. Too many names that the sniffling boy and the stoic girl knew by heart. People would mill about and listen; many of them would be people she’d saved, or their friends and loved ones. Not everyone she saved would attend, though. There was no space in any city that could house that kind of number. Besides, so many didn’t even know they owed their lives to her, and that was how she’d liked it.

“Who keeps count of that sort of thing? I mean, who could, even if they wanted? I don’t know how many people I saved by stopping a bomb from landing on that stadium, and it doesn’t matter. If I saved one, then it was worth every bit of effort.”

The people at this ceremony would not be at the other one. Though nearly all of them had a costume they could don, to show up to her ceremony would be both tacky and pointless. They didn’t want to say goodbye to Diamond Glance. They wanted to say goodbye to the woman who constantly hung ridiculous pictures on the wall of their headquarters. The woman who was known to throw a habanero pepper into one of every dozen cupcakes she baked, just to keep things exciting. The woman who would take more time than any of them to talk with Graham’s grandchildren when they would visit, and to tell them grand, adventurous stories to stoke their love of Heroes. She glossed over the scarier bits, of course. One day, the grandchildren of Graham DeSoto would see terrors of their own. They didn’t need to hear about hers as well.

“It’s like a giant game, one that never really ends, and where the rules are always changing. It’s challenging, sure, but that’s why people like us play it. A regular game would just be too boring.”

Angela had never really believed the lies. Maybe she would have, had they come years earlier. She’d already worn this dark dress, or one like it, too many times to believe Sharon’s stories of how fun and safe the Hero world was. Of course, there is a difference between not believing something and not liking it. Angela had loved those tales, nearly as much as she had loved Sharon herself. Once, when the two of them were up late because Grandpa was coaching others and Sharon was on monitor duty, Angela had gotten up the gumption to ask how Sharon stayed so chipper and so happy. Everyone else seemed ground down, the weight of their duty and actions tugging on them harder with each passing day. Only Sharon had stayed cheerful while being on the job for so long. The woman had taken some time before answering the girl, looking deep into her eyes and then making a difficult choice. When next Sharon’s voice came, it was different than the happy tones Angela expected. It was completely serious, the one and only time she ever heard the Hero speak that way.

“I’ve accepted my death. The path I’ve chosen is one that goes beyond dangerous. It is closer to suicidal. I am going to die doing this work. It will happen to me as it has happened to others. We are warriors born, and we have chosen not to stray from that path. So I accept Death as my inevitable bedfellow, and by doing so, I am free to live until he claims me. I never know when he’ll call my name, and therefore, I live every minute I have left to the fullest. One day, Angela, if you join me on this road, you’ll have to make a choice too. Ignore the truth like most and find a modicum of peace in the illusion, or accept your own death and revel in the freedom that provides. No matter what you pick, though, know that I’ll be proud of you just for following the rest of us down this crazy path.”

They began to shovel dirt on the casket, and Angela resisted the urge to comfort Shane, who was now crying readily despite all his efforts. He’d only jerk away, angry that she’d noticed and ashamed about feeling weaker than her. Silly boy. Shane wasn’t weaker than her, he just hadn’t made his choice yet. Angela had. She’d chosen as soon as Grandfather delivered the news of Sharon’s death. Now, knowing her own path, and the fate at the end of it, she did indeed feel free. Maybe there was a Valhalla for Heroes, and one day, she would see Sharon again. Angela doubted it, but she wasn’t the type to dismiss anything out of hand.

Anything was possible. This was a wild, crazy, utterly bizarre world, and she intended to see and experience as much of it as she could; before it was her turn in the ground.

34.

The thoughts reached Professor Stone before the girl did. Though she didn’t quite have Mary’s range, she did make it a point to listen to things that were around her when it seemed no one else was. It was one of her more paranoid habits—something she would freely admit—however, it had saved her life no less than seven times, two of which were after her retirement. This meant that, before Alice knocked lightly on the outside of her office doorframe, Professor Stone already knew the young woman was coming to see her and was nervous about doing so. She didn’t yet know the reason for the visit, since Alice’s aforementioned nervousness made her mind flighty and unwilling to focus on the purpose.

“Hello, Alice,” Professor Stone greeted, after the knock had actually come and Alice Adair stood in the open doorway. “How can I help you this morning?”

“I wanted to ask a favor,” she said, strong voice and firm body language betraying none of the uncertainty Professor Stone could plainly hear zipping about in her head.

“Straight to the point with it. I like that.” Professor Stone motioned for Alice to take a seat. The blonde student complied, settling down into one of the chairs set before the desk.

“Living with a telepath for two years has taught me there’s not much point in beating around the bush,” Alice said. “Mary told me about what you can do with memories.”

A prickle of discomfort danced down Professor Stone’s spine. She didn’t regret what she had done to Nick Campbell, or countless others before him when they were removed from the program, but she did wish Mary hadn’t told this girl about it. These were not enjoyable conversations to have. It was only after pausing to listen to Alice’s thoughts once more that the educator realized that was not what Alice was referring to.

“Ah yes, my ability to view the memories of willing people. It’s a useful little talent from time to time. I assume you need me to help you recover a detail from a memory?”

Alice nodded. “Last year, during Halloween, Rich put Nick, Mary, and me in a trance. He said he didn’t give it structure, he just dumped us into our own minds. That was apparently when Mary found out she could brain hop or whatever, so I’m sure she told you about this already.”

“I was made aware,” Professor Stone confirmed.

“What I’m guessing she didn’t tell you was that during my trance, someone came into my mind too. Or, at least, he claimed he was from outside my mind. At the time, I thought it was something Rich had put in there, so I didn’t pay it much heed. Now, though, after knowing Mary can do it, and others, and what happened with Vince, I just don’t feel right assuming it wasn’t real anymore.”

“I can’t fault you for wondering, after what you’ve seen,” Professor Stone said. “And our world does carry a broader definition of the word ‘possible’ than that of regular humans. What I’m not sure of is why you need a memory recovered.”

“Because I can only recall snippets of that encounter,” Alice admitted. “I know his name, and I know he told me he’d come to see me in my dreams before, but that I never remembered the next day. I know he told me some things about my mother, but the rest is just a word here or a facial expression there. No matter how I try, and I have been trying, I can’t get any more than that.”

“The things you remember him saying must be very important, if you care that much to find out.”

“Incredibly so,” Alice admitted.

“And since you’re dancing around them rather than telling me, not to mention making a point of not thinking about them, I take it they are at least equally as private.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t begrudge you some secrets, but I’m afraid that effort is moot,” Professor Stone informed her. “If I do bring up your memories, I’ll see them too. I’ll experience them right along with you. Everything from that encounter will be just as much stored in my mind as it will be in yours.”

“I had sort of assumed that much,” Alice said. “But I figured there was no sense in telling you anything until you actually agreed to do it.”

“Shrewd,” Professor Stone replied, giving the younger woman a brief smile. “I see Professor Pendleton’s Subtlety lessons have not been in vain. I will help you with this, Alice, because it is important to you, and this does not seem like something flippant. However, you must be totally willing, or it’s possible there are things we won’t see. Remember, you are opening your mind up to me at your own request. If you keep that thought during the process, the whole thing will be much smoother.”

“I can do that,” Alice said firmly. “When do we start?”

“How about the middle of next week?” Professor Stone offered. “It’s hard to know how long these sessions will take, and I want to be sure I have enough time. Since it’s already Wednesday, I’m booked up through the remainder of this week, and I don’t do consultations on the weekends. I do have free office hours next Tuesday, though.”

“That works fine for me,” Alice said.

“Good.” Professor Stone took a small slip of paper from her desk and jotted down a time and a room number on it. “Meet me here, at this time. Be sure to eat a good lunch, and try and get some rest the night before. You shouldn’t have any HCP classes then, but if one of your regular ones conflicts, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you so much,” Alice said, accepting the slip of paper and rising from her seat. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Helping students is literally what I’m here for,” Professor Stone reminded her. “If you don’t mind me asking, though, now that you know I’ll be memory diving alongside you, what did this dream-encroacher say that was so important?”

“He . . . he told me my mother was alive,” Alice said, her stoic facade momentarily wavering as the words left her mouth.

“I see. That certainly explains why you’d feel so compelled to hear the rest of his words. I should caution you, just because this phantom could be real doesn’t necessarily mean he is. I want you to keep your expectations in check,” Professor Stone advised.

In that moment, thinking about her mother, Alice allowed an unguarded thought to dash through her mind. She glanced at Professor Stone, but the older woman still wore an unchanged expression of concern.

“Of course, I’ll keep that in mind,” Alice said, hustling quickly out of the room before her thoughts could get away from her again.

The instant she was gone, Professor Stone pulled out her phone. It was still twenty minutes until Dean Blaine would finish teaching the seniors today, so she had to wait until then to contact him. He’d be annoyed with the delay, but honestly, after this long, twenty minutes wouldn’t make that much of a difference. Alice’s rogue thought told them something. Professor Stone just didn’t know what yet. Hopefully seeing the full memory would provide more clues.