Wearing the Cape 4: Small Town Heroes (17 page)

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

Winston Churchill

“If you stop before you’re dead, you aren’t trying.”

Atlas

I almost held my breath, watching Jacky’s reaction to Mr. Darvish’s saintly Be At Peace field. Jacky had once described her own vampiric powers of psychic influence as
pushing
, and her eyes widened as she recognized the effect from experience. Then she…relaxed and my breath caught.

I’d known Jacky for nearly two years and thought I’d seen her in all moods, from homicidally angry to happy and mellow. I’d been wrong. Under Mr. Darvish’s influence she softened, lines of tension and alertness in her face smoothing away, her whole body unstringing from the graceful and tight predator’s lines I’d thought were natural to her existence. Maybe they were, but here they flowed away and for the first time I could see what she must have been like before her psychotic “master” killed her family and made her what she was. I had to blink wet eyes and swallow before I could introduce her to our host.

Jacky’s unexpected arrival meant Mr. Darvish didn’t have a room available, but taking us up to my room he flipped up the bed skirts to reveal a trundle bed for her to sleep on, and he got bath items and an extra robe hung before she finished putting away the bag of things that she’d brought with her. It wasn’t much more than her costume and gear—we both needed to shop, especially since
we
were going to dinner. Shelly had texted the invite for Jacky the second I’d texted that she was here.

As a species, vampires
love
shopping; I think their obsession with The Beautiful is part of their psyche. But Jacky
hated
it—all you had to do was mention accessorizing to make her eyes glaze, and I was pretty sure she had her own professional dresser in New Orleans. Fortunately for her, a dash down to the town square turned up only two boutiques with party dresses and we found everything we needed at Stuff and Things.

In the spirit of being prepared, I kept my
special
phone with me. Jacky brought her guns and a belt of clips in a bag. The shopkeeper at Stuff and Things found me a cute thigh-length dress with a high waist you could draw tight under your breasts with a ribbon. For Jacky she found a colorful flared skirt and matching vest to go with a white peasant blouse. I grabbed some new shorts and shirts for myself, Jacky reluctantly chose a pair of sandals with me, and we were good. I got Jacky out of the place before her glares upset anyone.

I’d come to think of shopping with Jacky as combat-shopping, and since pulling it off without the Bees was a stunning accomplishment—possibly due to lingering effects of Mr. Darvish’s aura—I insisted we celebrate at the ice cream shop next door. Where she turned out to be a French vanilla and red velvet girl, and the sidewalk tables under the street awning turned out to be the perfect place to relax and indulge.

From where we sat, I could see the top of the Institute building over the trees and I watched it as I licked my cone. “So…we’re sitting outside the most top-secret labs in the world. Eating ice cream.”

“The most dangerous labs are outside in the naval base and a lot of people know it’s here—they just don’t know what goes on inside.”

“They tested you here?”

“Yes.” That was it, no details. The only thing she’d ever said about it was that it had been unpleasant and that I didn’t want to know. Once in a while I’d wonder how you tested to make sure a vampire couldn’t reliably sire progeny and kick off a vampire apocalypse—and my mind would scream at me to think about something else. Bunnies. Rainbows. Ice cream.

Jacky read my face. Or my mind—it was hard to tell, with vampires. “This isn’t a black-research lab dressed up in Pleasantville. Nobody needs saving here.”

“I know. Or I think I do. I’ve met good people, they wouldn’t—”

“Anybody will do anything if they have to. But if our side keeps that kind of place it isn’t here. Trust me, I’d know.”

I nodded and focused on my cone.

She shrugged, careful of drippage. “Anyway, the Institute isn’t our problem, the town is. Do you really think something’s coming? That it’s not all a con? A diversion, maybe?”

“‘By the pricking of my thumbs,’’” I quoted, “‘something wicked this way comes.’” I really did think it was real, but a feeling wasn’t enough, was it? “How long do you think they’ll let us stay here?” My appetite for the fudge-and-chocolate goodness of Extreme Moosetracks was gone. “How long can I ignore— How long can I stay away from Chicago?”
And where is Kitsune
?

Then I saw the naked man.

Jacky forgot about her cone. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”

I fumbled for my phone, hit
one
for Shelly. She got it on two rings. “
How’s shopping? Jacky threaten anyone yet?
”

“No… Shelly, is Littleton clothing-optional?” I tried looking everywhere else but at the black-haired man ambling towards us down the street and nodding to other pedestrians.

“
Arion is out again? Wait and tell me who gets him!
”

“Arion— Who gets— Shelly!”

“
He’s the Server of Ganymede, you know, an ‘extraterrestrial visitor’ here on Earth with a message of peace and universal beinghood
.” I could hear the bracketing quotes that signaled
extraterrestrial visitor
meant
delusional breakthrough.

“And part of his message is ‘no pants’?”

“
No, but if he decides he’s in the mood for some loving he goes for a walk without them and waits for somebody to bring him a coat and take him home
.”

“And they do?”

“
There’s a betting pool
.”

“And they
do
? I mean—”

“
I know, and yeah they do. All they’ll say about it is it’s unique. Mom says even she has no idea what they mean
.”

“I—”
  
I stopped because Angel had pulled up in the sheriff’s jeep, lights flashing. She got out with a coat.

“Bet’s off. Angel just arrived.”

“
Really? Cause Mom picked her for the pool
.”

I closed my eyes, something I should have done a couple of minutes ago. “Too much information.”
 
Hanging up, I glared at Jacky; I had to be red—the day had gotten hot and she was laughing. “This town is
weird
.” Sinking down in my chair I focused on my cone. It had taken advantage of my distraction to drip all over my hand.

My cellphone chimed and I jumped. Jacky smiled and kicked her bag.

“Maybe that’s them telling us this is it. We could get a good workout and be flying home tomorrow.”

I fumbled again, handed her my cone. The cell wasn’t screaming or flashing red, but my heart raced anyway until I read the text. “It’s from the base. The naval base. They approved my request to see Brick, and want me to go there now.”

“Really? Then I need to change.”

I hadn’t expected them to say yes, and now my brain raced in circles asking
why
?
 
Either Jacky was much more Zen, or better at hiding confusion. We took our loot back to Holybrook Rest where she stripped and skinned into her Artemis outfit complete with hooded half-mask and all four guns—her real ones, not the stunners she used in Chicago. I flew her to the Garage and from there to the base, touching down on the same pad we’d landed on yesterday. Lance Corporal Balini met us there, in full Scoobie armor but minus the ordnance mounts, and took us inside.

“Who’s your friend? Kidding—I know. Great to meet the infamous Artemis.” He turned all his charm on her. “Listen, I know this great place in Guantánamo that serves—”

“No.”

“We could get drunk and make bad decisions.”

“You just did.”

I smiled since he couldn’t see it, and didn’t look at Jacky. The part of the base we were walking through looked and smelled new, newer than the Garage, and I couldn’t smell the tinge of water’s-edge rot that was part of every seacoast not too cold for it. That meant a sealed environment and an air-scrubbing AC system. Proof against Jacky’s mist-form? Probably, making it even more secure than the Garage.

Balini took us through three doors, two with guards that I could see. Past the third one, my ears told me we were under echo-location surveillance. Surface-mapping would be a good way to make sure that a visitor wasn’t covered by a visual or mental illusion, so the Invisible Man wasn’t getting in here either. The walls and doors were solid enough that no noise got through to tell me
anything
was on the other side, and each layer of security I spotted wound me tighter. There was no traffic, no bustle like I’d seen at the Institute. This wasn’t a research facility, at least not this part; it was a holding facility for superhumans.

“Who do you keep here besides B Class Ajax-Types, Corporal?”

He looked back at me. “You’re quick! Relax, Winman’s not going anywhere and he’s an easy guest. There’s a few we have to be lots more careful for—guys
you
couldn’t handle. Here we are.”

Instead of a door, the hall ended in a framed wall of silver liquid—like someone had managed to paint a layer of mercury to the wall and make it stick. I could see the three of us in its not-quite-solid surface, me standing small beside Jacky’s supermodel-height and Balini’s hulking shape. My eyes looked huge in my mask and caught the reflected light. Then the wall flowed away, receding into the frame around it, and I realized it was some kind of force field.

The room on the other side was a big hexagonal space. Each wall held an open-framed cell and force fields filled the open frames, translucent instead of reflective. Half the cells were occupied, and three guards in sealed armor watched the prisoners from a recessed station under an inverted quicksilver ceiling dome in the middle of the room.

“The fields are one-way mirrors,” Balini said, but I could see that none of the prisoners had reacted to our arrival. The guards had no excuse, but they didn’t look up either. I turned around. The field had reformed behind us, translucent on this side; the guards hadn’t needed cameras to see us coming down the hall.

“Is the dome a weapon mount?” Jacky asked.

“Good call. Its field can pulse to allow the synchronized guns to fire out but not let anything in. Very nice.”

I nodded absently, sure there were lots of other weapons and security measures we couldn’t see. This was the kind of superhuman-containment stuff that Atlas and Blackstone and the other founding Sentinels had refused to allow the government to build into the Dome.

Balini steered us to a room to the left of our entryway—a small lounge where we found Veritas waiting, as well as Lieutenant Corbin and Captain Lauer.
 
Fatigue lines I hadn’t noticed at the action review had deepened, and I guessed that he hasn’t slept much last night and hadn’t napped today.

“Astra, Artemis,” Veritas greeted us, back to his deadpan public manner. “Glad you could make it.”

Jacky just smiled, one of the few people I knew who could out-cool him.

“Astra.” Captain Lauer nodded.

“Sir. Thank you for letting us come over.”

“We’ve already got everything he’ll say without amnesty, which is nothing, and we’re sending for a telepath who will be here tomorrow. Will you be alright doing it alone?”

“Yes.”
Not
what I’d been expecting at all, and I felt Jacky shift beside me. “Is there anything you don’t want me to say?”

“No. At this point I don’t believe anything you might say will make him less cooperative.”

“Okay.” I took a breath. “Where is he?”

Where
turned out to be in the next room. Brick waited for me past one more force field gate, manacled to an anchored table with shackles that weighed more than I did fully loaded. At Captain Lauer’ signal they cut the field, and the bite of harsh soap and chemicals in my nose told me they’d thoroughly deloused him. One step, and the silver field went back up behind me.

“Heeey!” Brick’s battered face broke into a smile wide enough to show chipped and uneven teeth. He shifted and winced; his orange prison suit had been cut to accommodate a brace on his left elbow.
 
A sling-brace immobilized his whole right arm. “I was hoping to see you again!”

I forced myself to step forward again, set down my maul, and take the seat opposite him. And sat. Now that I was here, I had no idea how to start. My eyes went to his manacled wrists where they rested on the table, and I saw red skin above them.

“What happened there?”

He looked down, pulled on his shackles. “Those? They used a laser to remove my dragon tattoos. No tats, no more instant armor and toys. No problem—the Army will fix me up again.”

“They will?”

“Sure! Haven’t killed anybody since going AWOL, and they need rough guys like me.” He shifted, winced again. “They’ll just stick a tracker in my gut next time, maybe a bomb, maybe get a brain-twister to plant an order in my head—but hey, I cooperate and I’m back out of stockade.”