Gift of Light_A Powered Destinies stand-alone novel Read online

  Hannah grimaced, her lips curling up in pain. “Getting better at resisting the urge to pass back out. Don’t know about fighting or running away from the bad guys.”

  “Do we have to run away?” Sara sounded worried.

  “Yes,” Wisp said. After a long look at the cityscape beyond the northern ledge, she added, “We’re moving out of this tower right away, so start packing. This is no joke. They’ve got stinger rockets pointed our way.”

  Everyone started talking at once, so Wisp took a moment to provide a brief summary of her chat with the villain leader, downplaying the situation as much as she reasonably could. Sara in particular would hold everyone up if she turned into a panicking one-girl stampede. Besides, Wisp knew that the ‘deal’ she’d made with Gentleman was her burden and responsibility. A tightening of the cord around her neck in exchange for a chance to investigate the source of the calamity, and eliminate it.

  I’m going to take care of everything. Promise.

  “Thing is, we can’t let them know where you guys are,” she said. “If we can take Hannah half a block closer to the evacuation point before midnight, it should be enough. Luca, can you carry her?”

  Luca broke through the tower of regret with a wan smile, and the sight of him – his unscathed face, his smiling mouth – filled her with hope. “For a shorter distance, sure,” he said. “Max is stronger, though, and has experience lugging Sara around.”

  “Hey!” the blonde girl protested. “Only once, and only because I was really tired!”

  Max waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Lugging girls to places is in my unofficial job description. Besides, Hannah is like a big, cuddly backpack, except softer and more–”

  “Asshole,” Hannah said, grinning. Max grinned back.

  Yeah, keep cracking jokes. I hope you guys get to go on a real date sometime soon. The banter pulled on Wisp’s heart strings, driving home the responsibility she carried. Whichever way things went tonight was on her.

  “Before we start packing,” Wisp said, “I have to tell you guys what I’m planning to do tonight. I wasn’t able to take any meaningful pictures yet, but Smoker is going to show me the source of the Smog and if this isn’t some big fat bluff, evidence of it will call the heroes to the scene for sure. They can’t ignore something that can be moved around and causes Smog.”

  “Can be moved around?” Max echoed, frowning. “Did Smoker tell you this?”

  “Not exactly. Gentleman did. If he was full of snot and none of this is actually true, I’m gonna find out in about…” she checked her wristwatch, “five hours.”

  Max’s shoulders sagged. “Well, shit. If the Smog, or the source, can actually get out of the city…”

  “Yeah, that’s seriously messed up,” Hannah agreed. “How fast can you run with my dead weight clinging to you?”

  “Fast enough.” Max’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I hope.”

  “I hope it isn’t true,” Sara said. When everyone looked at her, she added, “The thing about the source, I mean. Because if it’s not, we can just leave and find us a cozy new home without Wisp chasing after any more bad guys.”

  “We’re leaving,” Wisp repeated. “Tonight. I’m a little scared, too, but I can handle this. We just can’t stay here in the tower. If things go the way I want them to, everyone up north is going to be pretty darn unhappy with me.” She considered telling them about her plans to deal with Smoker in a permanent fashion but decided against it. They already had plenty to worry about at that moment. It seemed smarter and more considerate to share the story after it became good news.

  Threat eliminated, she’d say while striking a superhero pose with her hands on her hips and a puffed-up chest. Breathe easy, everyone! That villain isn’t going to Smog up the rest of the world anymore.

  Except she wasn’t a superheroine and no one would ever see her that way. The mental image cracked her up for a minute until the mortification of having accomplished nothing settled in. Hannah had survived for now, but no one in this room was safe just yet. Far from it.

  “We’ll make things go our way,” Luca muttered. “You doubt, you lose.”

  The words warmed Wisp’s heart. So you trust me after all. Thanks, Luca. Considering how hardheaded he tended to be, she suspected that the others must have talked sense into him during her absence.

  “Give me two more hours, and I’ll have both of Max’s hazmat suits ready,” Max said. “We can decide later if we use the second one, and who we are going to use it on.”

  Wisp smiled at him. “Sounds good. Thanks so much, Gearhead, and for the camera, too. I’ll go grab more stuff from Dad’s stash while you guys start packing. If the source turns out to be both real and something I can blow up, I’m going to need Dad’s grenades.”

  ***

  Once the Smog receded, the Survivors relocated themselves and their essential belongings to their temporary hideout, the top floor of an unobtrusive residential building. They hunkered down in the living room with comfortable furnishings, and enough space to stash their supplies. Their bags and backpacks filled with mementos from their past lives, spare clothing, non-perishable food and beverages as well as some money they had scrounged together from their scavenging runs.

  They didn’t unpack it. Max had chosen this apartment because it featured an easily accessible exit to an open terrace with an actual fire escape leading to ground level. The money from the bank robbery stayed up in the belfry, along with a big cardboard sign that said ‘heroes please pick up, nothing taken.’ Wisp had made a promise in the note she had handed to the bank employee, and she was going to keep it. Rune’s team could still stop by to pick up the booty if they wanted. The fact that no one would be there to greet them made no difference.

  Hannah was stretched out on the couch. A small light sphere hovered beside her head, glowing the same blazing shade of orange-yellow as the two beacons Wisp had assigned to Max and Sara. In contrast, her own light shone ginger. Not at all surprising considering her plans for the night.

  What really unsettled her was the fact that the color of Luca’s sphere matched her own. It shouldn’t have. Luca was supposed to stay here with the others, keep a low profile, and wait for the signal to head towards the evacuation gate.

  “Remember,” she said, facing the others, “if I’m not back by three in the morning, don’t wait a minute longer. Grab your stuff, grab Hannah, and get out. Don’t look back. I’ll catch up.”

  “That’s a bad line and you know it,” Max muttered. “One that belongs in shitty stories with crappy endings.”

  Luca raised his gaze from Hannah to Max, the shadow on his face making him appear older than he was. “This one hasn’t ended yet. We’re free to make our own choices, after all.”

  “Speaking of choices, Luca … what are your plans for tonight?” Wisp asked. “Because the glowy little friend that’s sticking to your head tells me you’re up to something.”

  “I’m going to grab a few of my things from home, too. Shouldn’t take too long and I doubt any of Constantine’s goons even know about my old place.”

  “Do you actually mean your brother’s things? Because you already grabbed your stuff long ago,” Wisp said.

  He turned away and shrugged stiffly. Luciano was a touchy subject she’d learned to avoid unless Luca himself brought it up. She could relate to how he felt about abandoning his childhood home. It had been a haunted place for him, but it was also the last thing on earth with physical and perceptible ties to the brother he’d loved more than anyone else in the world.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “We still have over forty minutes to go until midnight. Just make sure you’re back here on time, okay? Keep an eye on your light and turn right back around if the color changes.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s a wasted effort. You’re going to be plenty busy looking after yourself tonight. Oh, and I’m going to borrow the other Smog suit.”

  “You’re WHAT?” Wisp and Max asked in unison.<
br />
  Luca grabbed a nylon sports bag and opened it, turning his back to the others. “Try and stop me,” he said. It sounded like a challenge even though his voice was perfectly calm.

  “You can’t–”

  Wisp’s protest was cut off by Max, who grabbed her arm and made a shushing noise. “Let him.”

  “He shouldn’t even go near the Smog,” Wisp said, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s going to try something stupid, I just know it.”

  “Wisp, let him.” Max squeezed her wrist a little.

  “It’s just a precaution.” Luca picked up one of the taped together Smog suits and folded it. “In case the city fills with nighttime Smog. If you’re heading back there, the weather could change.”

  Wisp puffed up her cheeks and then exhaled, deflating them. “It’s not like I can stop you. Just stay the hell away from the university and the warehouses. When are you leaving?”

  “Now,” Luca said. “I’ll take the suit and put it on later. I can run faster without it.”

  “Put it on at midnight,” Wisp reminded him. “If there is going to be trouble, it’ll start happening five minutes past midnight or so.”

  “I’m aware.” Luca filled his bag with quick, precise movements.

  “Sara, can you help me with my suit?” Wisp asked.

  “Already?” Sara sounded alarmed. “It’s not even half past eleven yet.”

  “I have to go grab Dad’s stuff in case there actually is something in those warehouses that needs to be blown up.”

  “Take my gun holster,” Max said. “It’s made from Kydex. Your leather one wouldn’t last a minute in dense Smog.”

  “Good thinking.” Wisp accepted the holster from him. “Thanks. I’m going to need the small nylon backpack, too. Let’s hope Smoker doesn’t insist on peeking at what’s inside. Fingers crossed.”

  Wisp eased herself into the makeshift hazmat suit Sara held out to her. At a glance, it was obvious Max had put a lot of thought and effort into it and even though he hadn’t known her exact measurements, the two-piece ensemble fit her surprisingly well. The outfit consisted of Gore-Tex leggings, ankle rain boots, and a skintight long-sleeved nylon shirt – complemented with gloves and a tight-fitting hooded nylon jacket – as well as one of the gas masks she had brought from home. None of the clothing had been cut into shape or resized, but Max had used a large roll of duct tape and numerous pieces of plastic tarp to seal the gaps that people who took strolls in the rain didn’t usually care about.

  It took nearly ten minutes for Wisp to put on the entire suit properly, and another five for Max to ensure that not even a millimeter of skin was left exposed. He applied more duct tape where necessary and tested the suit’s sealing performance by blowing air over it. Luca left while Max wrapped up his safety investigation.

  “I kind of have to go, you know.” The heavy gas mask on her face distorted her voice.

  “One moment.” Max grabbed another thin nylon jacket, a leftover from the pile of clothes Wisp had brought back from home and tied it around her waist. “Wear the gun holster underneath it,” he said.

  “Good idea. No need to let Smoker see I’m coming to our meeting armed. Seriously, though, I have to go.”

  The mask itched and gave off an overpowering plastic smell that, combined with the flutter of anxiety in her stomach, was beginning to make her feel nauseous and desperate to get started. She felt like someone who’d been wrapped into a gigantic garbage bag and sealed in with a drinking straw to breathe through. Movement in this outfit was going to be harder than she had anticipated; running was out of the question.

  The goodbye was a simple, almost wordless affair. It seemed as if no one wanted to jinx it by saying the wrong thing.

  After swapping her gun from Dad’s leather holster to the Kydex one, Wisp grabbed a small nylon backpack and, lacking other options for storage, put the drone camera in it. She collected all of the unassigned spheres she’d managed to create before sundown and split them up into a sizeable swarm of fireflies, a mobile microcosm of Smog-repelling stars that trailed after her as she stepped out of the apartment and onto the terrace. Better two layers of safety than one. Because even if the layers of nylon, PVC and plastic did a decent enough job of protecting her skin, the swarm of light should hopefully keep the Smog from assaulting her with full force.

  To Wisp’s relief, the heavy rainfall from earlier in the evening had let up, and the moon was peeking through the clouds, augmenting her night vision. As she made her way across the rooftops and back toward her home, the city spread out around her with a quiet, almost peaceful stillness that reminded her of the weeks and months she had managed to feel at home here. Once upon a time she had felt safe in Dead City – despite everything, despite the Smog and the near constant disagreements with the Shadows up north. The thought of leaving it all behind pierced her heart like a dagger.

  The sight of her family home, appearing forlorn and shrouded in shadows drove the point home and the knife deeper. Goodbye, Marguerite Survivors. Wisp gazed at the windowsill outside Grandma’s bedroom. Goodbye, Tapsy Turtle. I’d love to take you with me, but we don’t have any spare suits. I hope you can forgive me.

  Wisp wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there on the withered front lawn, fighting the urge to go inside one last time. To meander through every one of the cozy, beautifully preserved rooms and pick out a handful of the umpteen memorabilia she’d never be able to replace. But then she checked her wristwatch, where it was a quarter to midnight and her good sense kicked her straight back to reality.

  The one where she was a soldier with a patriotic duty. The last girl standing in a war zone the world had forgotten about, filling a void her father had left behind.

  So she tore herself from the mesmerizing sight of the house and made her way back to the basement. The chest of explosives was exactly as she had left it, containing two fragmentation grenades and one concussion grenade. She had never handled live explosives but enjoyed a thorough tutorial courtesy of her dad. Enough know-how to pull the pin and get away from the blast without hurting herself.

  After stashing one fragmentation as well as the concussion grenade away in her backpack, she forced her attention away from the house and made her way towards the university, hoping with all her heart that Luca wasn’t going to run into trouble during his outing. That at some point in the future, they’d figure out a way to be friends again, and maybe more. Because the nervous twitching in her belly made it painfully clear she had never stopped wishing for more. Of the handful of people who had steadily accompanied her since her childhood years, he was the only one who was still around. The only one left.

  I need to focus on myself right now. The university complex peeled out of the darkness ahead of her, growing bigger with each light-empowered leap she took. It’s what he’d want me to do.

  When she arrived at the main entrance, Smoker wasn’t there, or anyone else. Three of the windows that lined the length of the first floor were illuminated, but there was no movement behind them and no sounds disturbed the night. She took it as a good sign. If Gentleman or Constantine had intended to stab her in the back, they would have been more openly welcoming. Then again, she had arrived early. Her wristwatch showed five minutes to midnight.

  While she waited, Wisp scouted the campus and its surrounding rooftops for skulking observers or gang members with sniper rifles, finding none. The firefly swarm danced around her, maintaining a constant orbit of a half meter around the tightly sealed nylon and plastic suit. Wisp observed its gyration with tense anticipation, chewing on her lip as she waited for the other shoe to drop and her spheres to adapt a more reddish tint. The events of the past weeks had taught her not to take the word of self-proclaimed villain leaders for anything. Gentleman wouldn’t be in charge of the Conglomerate if he was stupid, and chances were he at least suspected her of flipping allegiances.

  “That’s the ugliest costume I’ve ever seen,” Smoker said in his casual, fluent English.
r />   Wisp whirled around to see the villain standing behind her, wearing the same outfit from earlier in the day and no visible weapons. He was peering at her gas mask from beneath raised eyebrows, fingers laced together at the nape of his neck. An epitome of relaxed arrogance.

  “Oh, I see,” he said, chuckling. “This isn’t a costume, it’s for protection. You think I’m going to attack you?”

  “No,” she said, forcing the words from her mouth. “It’s just that we’re going to a place that’s full of the stinky stuff.”

  “Oh, that.” His eyebrows took a downward turn. “It’s going to be perfectly fine. I control this shit, remember? Besides, Gentleman ordered me to keep you safe.”

  You can’t control it if you’re dead.

  Wisp kept her eyes behind the gas mask’s lenses locked on his, hoping that he wouldn’t ask too many questions about the backpack, the massive firefly swarm or the gun she wasn’t even trying to keep concealed anymore. He glanced at the holster with fleeting interest. Still not taking her seriously, she supposed.

  “Why do you need a backpack?” he asked, lifting a suspicious finger at it.

  She managed a wicked little grin and a shrug. “The bank money is in there. Didn’t want to leave it with the other guys; they could try to return it or something.”

  He paused, studying her expression before nodding. “You better hope it’s airtight, then.”

  Smoker didn’t expect her to be carrying grenades. Of course he didn’t. Had she not known better, she wouldn’t have expected a teenage girl to have access to live explosives and knowledge on how to handle them, either.

  “I put the bills into plastic bags,” she said in a decidedly neutral tone. “Can we go, then? I’m tired and would really like to get some sleep afterward.”

  “Sure.” He strode off at a brisk pace, as if challenging her to keep up in her restrictive suit.

  It wasn’t much of a challenge. Whenever she started to lag behind, she sent one of her firefly’s ahead and swapped positions with it, placing herself a few steps ahead of Smoker until he passed her again. Their walking together was a formality. They both knew where to go and would have gotten there faster if they’d used their powers. Wisp didn’t ask why the villain insisted on doing the fifteen-minute journey on foot. Maybe he had been instructed to keep her under constant surveillance until they finished their business at the warehouse, or he simply enjoyed making her hop along.