The Color of Courage (10 page)

“Thanks, friend.”

She patted my shoulder. “Any time.”

The front door chimed, and we could hear Summer and Trace arguing as they came through the building. Both went to the locker room, then the break room. Summer squawked to find the coffee pot gone, and Kirby and I laughed. She’d just rushed into the office to berate us when we heard Adam’s door open and all of us shut up, mood instantly changed.

Adam, on crutches, appeared in the doorway. “Meeting room.”

Kirby and Summer checked me when they saw the grimness on Adam’s face. I read grief and not a little fear, but didn’t have a chance to tell them. I rose to follow Adam and Tulie into the break room, where Trace now sat.

I’d never met Tulie, though I’d seen him in online conference calls. He was about six inches shorter than Adam and Trace, and contrasted sharply with their All-American looks. I knew his family was from Columbia, and that his power was strength. With his compact body, chocolate-brown eyes, and long hair caught severely back in a ponytail, I suspected it was also sometimes seduction.

But not today. When Kirby said he looked terrible, she hadn’t been kidding. I doubted he’d slept in a week, if not longer, and his body posture conveyed great weight on his shoulders.

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, if that weight was about to come down onto HQ.

Adam introduced each of us to Tulie, who remained standing. So did Adam. Since his pain level told me he couldn’t have taken any pain pills since he left the hospital, I braced myself for something bad.

“What do you all know about Chicago?” Tulie asked us. We all shared a significant look. Kirby responded, sounding like a newscaster.

“The Chicago organization of superheroes responded to a call in which two heroes were killed, the rescuee was critically injured, and the organization blamed for both. They disbanded two months ago.”

Tulie nodded. “One of the heroes, Rafe, came down and joined us. He had suspicions about what happened, but didn’t say much. Last week, half of my group was called in when animals in the zoo were released. It was a disaster. All our efforts were stymied, and again people were hurt. My— One of my heroes was killed, too. And we were blamed.”

Not just one of his heroes. Someone he loved.

“You think Rafe had something to do with it?” I asked.

“He wasn’t on the op. But there were similarities. Things we did to fix the situation encountered interference.”

“Like, sabotage?” Summer looked significantly at Kirby’s bandaged forehead, and I knew Trace had relayed my suspicions to everyone. Dread crawled through me as Adam took over for Tulie.

“More than sabotage.” He face set in grim lines. “You were right, Daley. The building collapse was too perfect a job for us. Add that to Chicago and San Diego and the
Today’s News
article. It looks like there’s a faction working to undermine specific heroes and organizations with a bigger, more sinister agenda.” He tossed a four-color brochure on the table. None of us picked it up. We didn’t have to. The headline screamed at us:
Death to All Superheroes!
Then, in smaller letters,
The Scourge of the Twenty-First Century
. The high-quality cover art depicted heroes from both Chicago and San Diego. There was no way to put it politely. The pictures showed them screwing up.

I picked up the brochure, opened to the dense text inside, and read aloud, “‘Unsavory elements have been part of the American landscape since before the country was born. But only in the last few decades have so-called superheroes emerged, real-life deformations who pretend to use their extra abilities to do good. Instead, they exacerbate tragic circumstances, increasing death tolls and injuries and destroying infrastructure. Additionally, not all such monstrosities even pretend to have noble intentions. They commit horrendous crimes with the ease of bandits in the Old West.

“‘Citizens Against Superhero Existence believe change must occur. To keep our cities, families, and future safe, we must make it a capital offense to use superpowers for any reason.

“‘And if the government won’t make it so, we will.’ ”

I couldn’t read any further. I wanted to vomit, and judging by the auras around me, I wasn’t alone.

“If it was only a vocal group with a political agenda,” Tulie said, “we wouldn’t be concerned. The good we do far outweighs the bad.”

“If you don’t believe Caitlyn’s article,” Kirby muttered.

Tulie ignored her. “But they’re clearly more proactive than that. They want us to become our own demise.”

“Worse,” Adam said, nodding at me. I’d just read it in the brochure. “If we fail, they’ll do it for us.”

“Well, shit.”

That was the second time in a week Trace had said that while sitting around this table.

“You think they’re targeting us?” Summer asked.

Adam’s tightened jaw was the only outward sign of his feelings, but rage and fear and helplessness surged out of him.

“We think they have been for a while.”

Chapter 10

“They’re terrorists.” Trace thumped his fist on the table. “People died in the M Street building collapse.”

“We think possibly the jewelry heist was theirs, too,” Adam said. “I don’t think that came off the way they wanted it to, but it has signs.”

“After the zoo,” Tulie explained, “several of our heroes decommissioned.” He lifted a shoulder when we raised our eyebrows at the word. “I was military. Once. Anyway, they left. The rest were too hurt or scared to be effective. When we tried to go on an op, they worried about consequences that hobbled them. Rafe says it was the same way in Chicago. We compared notes, and we think several ops before the big one were compromised. We’re not sure how. Something just felt off.”

“The jumper!” I interjected. Everyone looked at me. “I knew there was something wrong with him. He wanted a big crowd, remember? And things he said . . . I bet you anything he was part of it. The whole thing was planned to get us out there to fail. But we foiled that, too.”

“Foiled,” Trace teased. “Yes, we foiled the nefarious plot of the evil villain,” he intoned, then went back to his regular voice. “But she’s probably right. So what do we do now?”

Adam nailed us all with his ‘do or die’ expression. “We stop them.”

Intentions were all well and good, but by Friday evening, we hadn’t come up with much of a plan to do that. The propaganda brochure gave us no hint of who CASE was or where they were located. Internet searches yielded more of the same spew I’d read, but again with no identifying information and no way to contact them. If they were recruiting new members, we couldn’t find it.

We’d analyzed our cases going back a month and identified the ones that had oddities we’d dismissed or forgotten about. There were so many close calls, I began to have more sympathy for my mother and her fears.

In fact, I started to wonder if she was right to want me to leave HQ.

“They’ve been targeting us a lot longer than we thought,” Trace asserted, marking the spreadsheet Kirby had prepared. “Hard to tell when it started, since it rises so subtly.”

Kirby muttered something under her breath about payback.

“You know,” Summer pointed out, “the chunk of concrete that hit Kirby at the building collapse went off target.”

Trace shrugged. “So?”

“Someone with powers of their own had to be there. Maybe they caused the second collapse.”

“Could have been technology,” Kirby said.

But Summer shook her head. “Damned hypocrites. We need to find that traitor.”

Adam didn’t say much as the others talked, but it was clear the thought of closing HQ hadn’t crossed his mind.

But how could it not? I contributed little to the discussion as I watched Adam’s aura fluctuate with concern and determination. He was so protective of us all. With an invisible enemy actively targeting us, he should float the option of a hiatus, at the least.

But it wasn’t his way. I knew CASE’s intent wasn’t simply to break us up. It was to destroy anyone with superpowers. And Adam couldn’t let that happen.

I was afraid. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. What help could I be in the quest to stop these people? My skills were reactive, not proactive, and I was the weakest. The most vulnerable. That turned me into a liability, and potential leverage against the others. As soon as CASE became aware HQ knew about them, their tactics would change.

I couldn’t sit there thinking about this any longer. Tears threatened, so I stood to get myself more coffee, plans and ideas swirling behind me, unheard. HQ had given me so much. A place to belong, with people like me, people who understood. It gave me purpose, a way to use my gifts for good. But I had new ways to do that now. What I’d achieved with Josh had been every bit as satisfying as saving the boy in the jewelry heist or stopping Gino on the ledge. I could have a fulfilling life without HQ.

Pain stabbed my chest. I turned and leaned against the counter, sipping my coffee and watching my friends. I didn’t want to leave them. And yet . . . No one seemed to have noticed that I’d left the table, that I wasn’t contributing. Maybe they just tolerated me. I was a tool they could do without. Or even better, replace.

I blinked back the tears again and gulped coffee, thinking about how I’d wound up here. Summer and I had been senior roommates in college, a blessing for both of us. Summer interviewed Adam for her thesis, and after graduation talked me into going with her to meet Kirby and Trace and talk about joining. I hadn’t been convinced I had anything to offer, but Adam never questioned it. He gave a dozen examples of ways I could have helped on past jobs, and just assumed I was joining. So I did, and had been happy ever since. But maybe I’d been deluding myself.

Leaving HQ would do more than change my employment status. The friendships would change, maybe be lost. Trace’s irrepressible humor, Kirby’s pragmatism, Summer’s care would all be things I’d mourn. I imagined going into Adam’s office and telling him I was quitting. He would hide his reaction, and I wouldn’t be able to read his emotions. He’d tell me I needed to do what was right for me, but I would know I’d disappointed him, anyway.

Stay, and become a liability that could lead to their downfalls, but retain their friendships and the value HQ gave to my life.

Leave, and lose everything I’d helped work toward for two years, but make them stronger, less vulnerable.

Helluva choice.

And not one I had to make this second. I returned to the planning, which was going nowhere by the end of the day. We needed something concrete on CASE before we could build a framework on which to hang a viable plan.

My phone beeped at five, a reminder of my family dinner obligation. I sighed and thumbed off the chime, then started to pull up my mother’s number so I could cancel.
That
wasn’t going to be pleasant.

But Trace shook his head. “Family dinner, right? Go. I’ll keep working. I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“I can stay, too.” Summer sat back and yawned. “Let’s get ice cream,” she said to Trace. “I’ll think better with ice cream.”

Trace bounced to his feet. “You’re paying.”

“Big surprise.”

They left, and Kirby got up to go to the bathroom. Adam grunted and shifted on his hard chair. His face was gray and drawn, and I could tell how heavily he was leaning on his elbow on the table, holding himself upright.

“Let Kirby take you home.” I got up and went over to help him to his feet. He resisted and I stood there foolishly, my hands curved around the bulge of his biceps.

“We haven’t gotten anywhere. There’s got to be
some
detail we’re missing. Some crack.” He reached for a pile of printed web pages, but I grabbed his wrist.

“Seriously, Adam, you’re not doing anyone any good this way. Let Trace and Summer keep going and you go home and rest so you can
heal
.”

He didn’t try to get out of my grip, but reached with his other hand, instead. I was about to call him a stubborn ass when streaks of bright red shot through his aura. I mentally soothed those patches, intending to send green calm, but tinges of lavender followed. I jerked back, startled by the evidence of the feelings I’d been trying to ignore. My knees hit the seat next to me and I fell into it.

The red streaks had subsided. Adam smiled at me and rested his sprained arm on the table. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, feeling my face heat. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just want you to take care of yourself. We’re going to need you at full strength, and burning all your reserves won’t get you there.”

He nodded, fatigue dragging at him again. “I know you’re right. I just can’t”—he waved a hand at the mess—“leave it. Leave you.”

He didn’t mean me. He meant the team. But the words still sent a warmth seeping through me that was different from anything I’d ever felt before. I wanted to be more than just a team member to him. Wanted in some way to have value beyond the job.

Kirby came back in, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Don’t sit down,” I told her. “Adam needs to go home. Will you take him?”

“Sure. I’m brain-fried, anyway. We’ll start fresh tomorrow and I know we’ll come up with something. Come on, boss man.” She tugged Adam’s arm, and he let her.

The room echoed with the silence once they were gone. I lingered long enough to straighten and sort all the stuff we had, and as soon as Trace and Summer got back, left to go meet my father, feeling guilty the whole way home.

My call to Mom earlier in the week had been better than the last one, but I still wasn’t looking forward to tonight. There was no solid reason why, since she didn’t know about CASE. Just a foreboding that two dangerous ops in a row were going to be two too many for her.

I could have taken the train, and I told my father so when he pulled up outside my building and honked. I hated when Mom made him pick me up. He was in a serious accident when I was a kid. Since then, he’d avoided driving in the city as much as possible.

“Nonsense. Your mother would
murdolate
me if I didn’t come get you.” He somehow managed to scowl and grin at the same time. His shock of white hair probably hadn’t been combed all day, and the scruff on his chin was like flour dusting. He wore baggy jeans that he’d have to hitch up when he got out of the car, and a newish Redskins T-shirt stretched over his belly.

I slid into the car and kissed his cheek. “Didn’t work today?” He wore a suit to the small pharmaceutical company where he was head of security. He wouldn’t have had time to change before coming to get me.

“Nope. We’ve got a big symposium coming up, and I’ll be working extra hours. Took a preparation day.” He eyed me with a father’s critical eye. “You don’t look too battered.”

“I’m much better.” It was mostly true. My hip twinged occasionally, but my ankle was normal. My suit had protected most of my body from the debris at the building collapse, and makeup hid the few little cuts and scratches I had on my face. It didn’t matter. My mother would spot them, and cluck over them, and use them as ammunition. But they were minor.

“Seatbelt.”

I was already reaching for it, but he waited until it clicked before he lurched out into the heavy rush-hour traffic and started navigating his way to Rockville, Maryland, where I’d grown up and where my parents and most of my siblings still lived. We made small talk when traffic stopped. Otherwise, I let him concentrate on the driving.

Nearly an hour later—twice as long as the train would have taken—Dad turned into the driveway of our old rambler, and the comforting-slash-sinking sensation of returning home settled over me. I loved my family, had a good childhood, and didn’t usually dread coming back. But I knew what I had ahead of me, and I was just tired. Tired of enduring it, allowing it, fighting it. I’d tried all three, and nothing made it better.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” My dad sat with one foot out the door, watching me watch the house.

I gave him a wan smile. “Nothing. Just . . .”

“I know.” He patted my hand. “We’ll keep her in check.”

I didn’t think that was possible, but climbed out of the car and followed him up the walk to the front door without arguing.

It was like walking through a portal into another dimension. Outside: serene suburbia with lush, carefully tended vegetation outside a squatting brick house. Inside: chaos. The only thing missing was shrieking children. But the three barking dogs—Sarah had apparently brought her Sheltie to play with my mother’s cockapoo and Spike’s mutt—three immature early twenty-somethings, and one newly minted adult were plenty loud enough.

The new adult—as Spike had taken to reminding everyone as often as possible since his birthday last month—gave me a bear hug that ended in a gentle enough squeeze that I knew Mom wasn’t the only one who’d been worried about me. Becca, Jeff, and Steven did run-by huggings before they rushed on to finalize whatever plans they had after dinner. I went to the kitchen, where Sarah and my father were helping Mom cook.

All of it was warm and familiar and answered the question I’d been asking myself for two days: why was it so important to me to be a superhero? It was the same answer I expected anyone in law enforcement, firefighting, the military, and search-and-rescue got when they started questioning why they did what they did. To protect the stuff worth protecting.

“Daley!” Mom set down her paring knife and swooped down on me. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She did the shoulder-holding-at-arm’s-length inspection, squinting at the cuts on my face. “Well, those shouldn’t scar, anyway. The rest of you’s okay? How’s your hip?”

“Fine. It barely hurts anymore.”

“Good.” She patted my shoulders and returned to her salad preparation. “How about the ankle? That Adam had a pretty good hold on it. Thank God, of course, but still, I can’t believe it didn’t break.”

“It’s fine, too. My suit helped.” Not really. It protected against impact and cutting injuries, not slow squeezing. But I routinely fibbed to her about that stuff.

“What happened to your date?” I asked Sarah.

She grimaced. “Didn’t work out.”

“I’m afraid you’re just too picky, dear,” Mom clucked. “After what’s-his-name, you haven’t trusted anyone.”

“Yeah. I canceled it when he got arrested for cocaine possession, Ma.”

She smiled proudly at Sarah and patted her cheek. “Smart girl. Here, Daley.” She handed me a knife and set a loaf of Italian bread on the center island for me to cut. I sat on a stool, resigned to the oncoming bombardment of questions and pointed remarks about my work. But she surprised me by asking Sarah about her job for a communications company in Silver Spring, instead.

Sarah snitched a slice of cucumber and tried to hide her smugness. It didn’t work. “I got a promotion today.”

Mom squealed, Dad rumbled congratulations, and I stayed where I was and grinned at her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, her pleasure pouring out of her and belying the modesty. “But I am supervising three people, and it’s a track that could take me to executive level eventually.”