After the Golden Age Page 11

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Hm,” he murmured, like he was all macho or something. “I expected you to be more…”

  “More what?”

  “I don’t know. More something.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “You’re going to tell me how to join the Olympiad.”

  She rolled her eyes. This was the most dangerous type out there: smart enough to track her down, and stupid enough to think she was worth something. Eager enough to want to save the world—but not a clue as to what he was trying to save. To him it was all one supercharged cinematic adventure.

  “You think I know how? I can’t help you.”

  “But Captain Olympus is your father.”

  And she hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of years now. “We don’t get along. Now put me down and go send a résumé to West Corp.”

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, then gave his head a decisive shake. “No. I’m too close. Can’t back down. If I bring you to them, they’ll see what I can do. They’ll have to take me.”

  Stretching forward, he swooped toward her and scooped her up. Cradling her in his arms, he soared up, over the campus, toward downtown. They weaved around buildings like they were trees in some immense forest, the streets dwindling beneath them.

  He could fly. Easily, like he was taking a stroll across town. He used the wind somehow; a swell of air carried them along. She might have been impressed, if she hadn’t been so pissed off and scared. She clung to him, because if she struggled now and he let go, she’d drop a couple hundred feet to the ground.

  He aimed his flight toward West Plaza. The glowing blue logo shone as a beacon.

  Cruising along one side of the tower, he flew up, straightened, and gracefully touched down on the helipad, feet first. He set her down beside him. She stumbled; her legs were shaking. She wanted to run away, but she couldn’t.

  The service door by the helipad opened and the Bullet jogged onto the roof, no doubt called by the West Plaza alarm system. He took in the scene, glancing at the masked guy, then at Celia, and back.

  “What’s going on?” Robbie said, half-directing the question to Celia.

  “The Bullet, just who I want to see,” the stranger said. “I want to join the Olympiad.”

  Robbie rounded his shoulders and crossed his arms, donning an annoyed frown. “What makes you think we have any openings?”

  “You’ll take me.” He nodded, clenched his fists. “You’ll take me, or I’ll drop her.”

  The wind snatched Celia off her feet again, wrenching a shriek out of her. She tried to clamp her mouth shut, wanting to be brave and quiet so she wouldn’t distract Robbie. But the handlike breeze scooped her up and carried her over the edge of the building. She hung there, suspended, a hundred stories over cold pavement, nothing between her and the ground. Her scream was blood-curdling. Don’t look down, don’t look down …

  The stranger reached toward her, guiding the power that kept her aloft. Please don’t distract him, she prayed at Robbie. Please.

  He looked at Robbie. “What do you say?”

  “I say you’re going about this all wrong.”

  “Get Captain Olympus and Spark up here. I bet they won’t have any hesitation.”

  Robbie’s arms uncrossed, his gaze narrowed. “I wouldn’t make that bet if I were you.”

  “I mean it! I’ll drop her!”

  Mouth clenched closed, she stared up at a stark, washed-out sky. Please, please, please—

  The Bullet disappeared.

  Another wind came out of nowhere and smacked into her gut, knocking the breath from her. It heaved her in another direction, snatching her from the stranger’s grip and dragging her back to the roof.

  When she opened her eyes, she was standing on solid roof and leaning against Robbie, whose arm held her around her middle. The Bullet had run so fast, he’d dashed into the air itself, using his own special talent to fly, grabbed her, and carried her to safety. Her lungs heaved, trying to catch a breath.

  “You okay, kid?” he whispered.

  She could only nod. When he let her go, she managed to stay standing, for which she was grateful.

  He turned to the stranger, who backed away a couple of steps. “You want to talk about this now? What made you think that dangling his daughter off the roof would convince the Captain to trust you enough to bring you onto the team?”

  The Bullet was being far nicer than Celia would have been.

  The stranger shook his head, still backing away, glancing over his shoulder to judge his distance from the edge, which didn’t add anything to his impressiveness. “I had to make them—you—listen!”

  Robbie stepped toward him, hastening the other’s retreat. “I’m listening now. So, you have any other talents besides summoning winds and kidnapping girls? Come on, I’m listening.”

  He sputtered for a moment, like he wanted to say something. Then, he jumped. He’d reached the edge, and rather than stay put, he threw himself over it. A wind picked him up and carried him off. He flew away, his body stretched out flat and streamlined.

  “We’re going to have to keep track of that one,” Robbie said, hands on hips. He looked at Celia. “You really okay?”

  She’d found her breath and voice by then. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for the save.”

  “No problem. You should come inside, get warmed up. You look like you could use a drink.”

  “Only if it’s bourbon.”

  “I was thinking hot cocoa.”

  “I think I just want to go home.”

  He hesitated, and she braced, because it probably meant an argument. When she said home, he was probably thinking of something different than she was.

  “You haven’t been back here in months.” Actually, it was years. “Your folks should be getting back any minute now, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I let you leave without seeing them.”

  “I’d prefer it if they didn’t know I was here at all.”

  He gestured with a thumb over his shoulders. “Security cameras. I can’t hide the footage.” Uncle Robbie, always siding with her parents.

  “Robbie, please. I need to get back to campus.” She started toward the roof door.

  “How are you going to get back at this hour?”

  “The late bus.”

  “Celia!” That pleading tone in the voice always stopped her, even now. “I guess I don’t understand it. You were born with all this.” He gestured to encompass the West Plaza building. “You could have had the best of everything. How many people would kill to have all this? And you just throw it all away?”

  Robbie had come from the east side, the not-so-great part of town, the son of a machinist and a hairdresser. He hadn’t gone to the Elmwood Academy like Warren and Suzanne had. Instead, he’d graduated from P.S. 12. He’d have gone to college on a track scholarship—if he hadn’t been kicked out of the sport for cheating because of his powers. Then he’d met Captain Olympus and Spark, and found another outlet.

  “You ever get tired of it?” she asked. “Being on Dad’s payroll for doing stuff like this? Keeping up the vigilante gig? You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t joined the Olympiad? Just gone on, gotten a normal job, had a normal life?”

  “Normal isn’t an option for folks like me. We are what we are.”

  “Well. I’ve got a chance to try normal for a little while. So that’s what I’m doing.” She made a broad shrug, dismissing the topic.

  His short-cropped hair was more gray than black now. She couldn’t recall when that had happened.

  “You are one stubborn kid,” he said.

  She hugged herself and looked away.

  “At least take your folks’ limo. It’ll be warm, and it’ll get you right to your doorstep.”

  And it would have something to drink in the minibar. “Okay.”

  “I’ll call down to the garage for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Togethe
r, they went through the door, to the foyer of the penthouse, to the elevator. She stepped in and punched the button for the parking garage.

  He held his hand over the door to keep it from closing. “It’s normal to call your parents once in a while, you know. They miss you, Celia. Do you think you could at least come home for Christmas this year?”

  She shook her head before he’d even finished. “I’m not ready. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready.”

  “Will you ever be?”

  She couldn’t explain it to him, that it really was getting better, that being on her own—out of the middle of the madness that was her parents’ double lives—had brought the world into focus for her. She looked in the mirror now and saw herself. A little more time, and she’d start to see the road before her, and it wouldn’t seem so murky.

  “Yeah, I will. I think. But it’s going to take time. I’m sorry. Tell them I’m sorry.” It was the first time she’d ever apologized or expressed sympathy, even indirectly.

  She touched his hand, squeezed it, pushed it away from the door, and held his gaze until the doors closed.

  * * *

  Breezeway was something of a lone wolf. His getting involved meant the superhumans had been in conference, which meant they thought this was serious. She was almost flattered, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were wasting their time. She wasn’t the target. She wasn’t where they’d strike again, not really. She was a red herring.

  Once on the bus, she called her mother’s cell phone.

  “Celia, what’s wrong?”

  “Why does everyone always assume something’s wrong when I call?”

  “Because you never call unless something’s wrong.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Celia—”

  Okay. It was true. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just think you guys should call off the surveillance on me.”

  “No. Absolutely not. In case you haven’t noticed, the Strad Brothers tried to kidnap you during both their robberies. They’ll try again.”

  “I know, that’s just it. They’re using me as a distraction. While you guys are busy worrying about me, they get away with another robbery.”

  “I’ll worry about you over a fish any day of the week. Celia, this is serious, it’s not like we’re following you around on a high-school date.”

  Except that they would be following her on dates, the next time she and Mark went out. Hell, Mark was probably in on it.

  No need to get paranoid or anything.

  “I think your resources would be better spent tracking them down than trying to protect me. You heard what Arthur said, they want me alive. Even if they managed to catch me, I’d be safe. Hell, I might even learn something that could bring them down.”

  “Don’t get any ideas. You’re not trained for that kind of mission.”

  She wasn’t trained for any kind of mission, except auditing income statements. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” She was starting to sound surly. She needed to wrap this up before she said something she’d regret later.

  Suzanne said, “We’ll stop the surveillance on one condition: you come back to live at West Plaza, where we can keep an eye on you.”

  She didn’t even have to hesitate. “No, Mom. I can’t do that.”

  “You didn’t even think about it.”

  “Hey, Mom? My stop’s coming up, I really have to go—”

  “You’re not still riding the bus, are you?”

  “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Say hi to Dad for me.”

  She clicked off the phone.

  FOURTEEN

  WEST Corp’s connection to the Leyden Industrial Park hit awfully close to home. She had the next key to the puzzle, and she could keep going—if she could get access to West Corp’s files. If she did, she could find out if Sito had been working for West Corp, and if West Corp had compensated Sito well enough to pay for Greenbriar. She could maybe even find out what Sito had been doing when he had his initial breakdown.

  And if she learned all those answers, what was she going to tell Bronson about it? Not to mention her parents.

  Jacob West, her grandfather, had headed the corporation then. Her father hadn’t been born yet. No one could have known back then what Sito would become. It didn’t mean anything. Unless the tabloids got hold of the information, of course.

  She made good on her offer to have her parents over for dinner.

  Her mother fussed, still worried about Celia after the latest kidnapping attempt. Suzanne wanted to cook for her—in her own kitchen no less—but Celia managed to put her foot down. She ordered pizza to be delivered, as she’d threatened, but Suzanne seemed relieved that Celia wasn’t actually going to do any work.

  Her father, on the other hand, was in a snit. “It has to be the Destructor masterminding this. We know these hits are all connected. Only the Destructor is capable of organizing a citywide spree.”

  “He’s under suicide watch at the Elroy Asylum,” Suzanne said. “He can’t organize a crime spree under those conditions.”

  “He’d find a way.”

  Celia toyed with a leftover crust of pizza. Something didn’t ring true about that. The targets of the robberies were too odd. The kidnapping attempts were too haphazard. Like it was all some kind of distraction, a means rather than an end.

  “I don’t think it’s the Destructor,” she said.

  “Why?” Warren demanded.

  “It’s not his MO. The Destructor would have pinned the flayed koi to the mayor’s desk. He’d have sent the Stradivariuses back to the symphony in splinters.”

  He said, “Is that a fact?”

  “It’s a hypothesis.”

  A few moments of silence passed before Suzanne said, “She’s right, Warren. This isn’t how Sito operated.”

  “Then there’s someone else,” he said. “A new mastermind.”

  Suzanne considered, her brow furrowed. Celia used the pause in conversation to start clearing the table. She wasn’t thinking about the Destructor or masterminds—the less she thought about such topics the happier she was. Instead, she’d spent most of the evening trying to figure out how to ask her father for a favor.

  The pause lengthened, and she decided to take the chance.

  “Dad, do you know anything about a building West Corp owned about fifty years ago? It’s in the northeast industrial district. It used to be called the Leyden Industrial Park.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. That long ago, it would have been one of my father’s projects.”

  “Do you think West Corp still has the records on it?”

  “Probably. We never throw anything away.”

  “He got that from his father,” Suzanne said.

  “Do you think I could have a look?” She held her breath.

  “What’s your interest?”

  It wasn’t an accusation. Just a natural question. She had to remember that. “I stumbled across it at work. The building came up with West Corp’s name attached to it. I got curious, but I’m having trouble finding records from that far back. I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask you.”

  Suzanne watched Warren with as much focus as Celia did; her mother might have been holding her breath as well.

  Warren took a drink of water. “Just curious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No conflict of interest—you wanting to dig up something that’ll come back to bite the company later.”

  Of all the … “It’s fifty-year-old data. It should be completely irrelevant.”

  “Then why is it important to you?”

  Whatever she said, she refused to bring up Sito and feed her father’s paranoid fantasies. Even if those fantasies might be correct.… Softly, she said, “I didn’t think it would be that big a deal.”

  “Come on, now I’m curious. What’s so interesting about this building?”

  “I won’t know that until I find those records, will I?”

  Warren glared. He broke walls with that glare. “It’s not
like you’ve ever taken an interest in the company before.”

  “You don’t trust me, do you? I can see the wheels in your brain inventing some plot that I must be hatching—”

  “Oh, give me a break!”

  “Warren—” Suzanne said, her voice a warning.

  “If it’s so harmless, then tell me how you found out about this building.”

  “It came up at work—”

  “So now you’re using personal connections for professional gain.”

  “You’d do the same thing!”

  “I wouldn’t have to!”

  “Warren! Celia! Both of you, sit down!”

  Celia and her father were glowering at each other across the table. The temperature in the room was rising.

  Warren didn’t sit down. Instead, he clenched his fists, and smashed one of them into the table. The wood laminate split, all the way through, across the entire length. The surface held together by mere splinters. The soda cans they’d been drinking from tipped over and spilled. Celia jumped back, her heart racing, and didn’t have the wits to even grab a towel. Suzanne just crossed her arms and frowned.

  Warren marched out of the apartment. It was a small blessing that he didn’t slam the front door behind him.

  Slowly, Celia returned to her seat. She sat on her hands, but they wouldn’t stop shaking. Her face was shaking. Every nerve in her body was shaking.

  Suzanne ran her hands through her hair. “And here I was thinking this was going well.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” She sounded small, like a little girl. But her voice was shaking, too, and she had to either talk small or scream.

  “Celia, why can’t you just—” Suzanne sighed, once again leaving Celia unclear as to what she hadn’t done, or ought to do, or couldn’t do. She went over to Celia, put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I ought to go after him. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

  He wasn’t getting into trouble. They’d have heard it, if he was.

  “I’ll get you a new table,” her mother said. “We could go shopping for one together.”

  “I was going to replace it soon anyway. I think.” Celia shook her head. Feeling exhausted and perfunctory, she said, “Thanks for coming over.”