Dreams of the Golden Age Read online

  She’d unconsciously raised her hands, looking back and forth between Paulson and the two uniformed officers, waiting to see who would leap at her first. Neither of them did, but she still stood there, arms up, trying to catch her breath.

  “Put your hands on your head,” Paulson called, approaching her with a set of handcuffs.

  He was really going to arrest her. She was dizzy, her muscles went loose, and she thought she was going to pass out. This was one of the things she’d always been afraid of, this was why they weren’t ready to go out yet. Somehow, she didn’t fall over and stayed upright while Paulson turned her so she was facing the wall and took hold of her wrists, bringing them back to clamp the steel of the cuffs over them. This was ridiculous. This was a nightmare.

  “So which one are you?” Paulson said. “Trinity or Espionage?”

  She didn’t dare say anything. If he was working with her mother, he already knew everything. He’d take her to the police station, take off her mask, and figure it out then anyway. She had some vague notion that she ought to keep quiet until she could call a lawyer. Her mother knew lots of lawyers.

  God, her mother. What was she going to say about this?

  “Taking the Fifth, is it?”

  Again, nothing. Paulson looked past her, to the other cops. “You two, go help Brown and Martino with those slimeballs. I’ve got this.”

  The two uniformed cops returned to their cars without argument, because of course she didn’t look like any kind of a threat and hadn’t displayed anything in the way of real superpowers. Paulson took hold of her arm and steered her toward the sedan. Her feet scuffed on the sidewalk; her muscles tingled with anxiety.

  “Not going to say a word, are you?”

  She didn’t even shake her head. She was wilting, head bowed, back curved—and stopped herself. She was Compass Rose, and maybe her friends ditched her, but if she wanted to be a superhero maybe she should start acting like it, even in handcuffs standing next to a cop car. How would one of the old-school heroes stand in this situation? Not necessarily Captain Olympus, who’d bust out of any situation before he could get close to getting arrested, of course. But one of the others, like the Hawk, who hadn’t had powers but was clever and strong on his own. Or maybe her father, Dr. Mentis. She’d seen pictures of him when he was younger. He never wore a skin-suit uniform like the others but always appeared in a plain suit and trench coat. Everyday clothes. Maybe she ought to do something like that, fool people by appearing perfectly normal. But everyone knew he had power, and he always seemed like he was studying the people around him, looking right through them.

  Rolling her shoulders, she tried to stand like she imagined they would, back straight, chin up, gaze cold, glaring at Paulson. Maybe pretending to be strong was enough.

  Paulson sighed then, scratching his head and wincing like he had a problem he didn’t know what to do with. “Get in,” he said, opening the back door and guiding her inside, hand on the back of her head. She couldn’t even come up with a snappy one-liner to throw at him.

  He closed the door on her and walked off to confer with the other officers. She perched on the seat, trying not to squish her cuffed hands, and sighed. This was bad. It was a disaster. But it looked like she would survive it without imploding. She just had to wait for it all to be over. The minutes dragged.

  Finally, he hiked back to the car, and she perked up, donning her gritty persona. The glaring one.

  He opened the back door and leaned on it, opposite hand on his hip, just studying her. He seemed tired.

  “What exactly is it you kids think you’re doing? Besides messing up entire blocks of already broken-down neighborhoods?”

  On reflection, that was a really good question. “Save the world” seemed a bit grandiose. “Petty competition between rivals” was probably closer to the mark, but also not quite right.

  She leaned back to catch his gaze and said, “Are you working with Celia West to track us down?”

  Paulson hesitated, appearing to think for a long time, looking out at the street, then the sky, then her. “We’re keeping an eye on you, to keep you from getting hurt. That’s all.”

  The shame and dread from the arrest faded, shoved aside by anger and a vague embarrassment. Here was confirmation. All this time, they thought they were being clever, sneaking around, successfully hiding their identities, and if not doing good, at least doing something. But Mom knew everything and was letting them do it. Indulging them.

  She slumped back against the seat, not caring about her squished hands, and let out a deflated breath.

  Paulson added, “I’m playing along, but I’m not happy about it. You all should be safe at home, not running around pretending like you’re some kind of junior Olympiad. And I’ve told that to Celia.”

  “Then why do you go along with her?”

  He said, “Just in case I’m wrong and she’s right.”

  Gently, he took her arm and helped her back out of the car. Unlocked the cuffs and let her hands fall to her sides.

  “You’re not arresting me?”

  “No. Not this time. But you kids—you people need to be more careful, okay? Just … be careful.”

  When she met his gaze this time, he seemed worried. Maybe even scared. A whole other story lay behind the one she thought she was in, Anna realized. Her father would know. Her father so desperately wanted her to talk to him. Maybe she should. If she told him her secret, maybe he would explain everything, like opening a book. Reading secrets in someone’s mind must not have been anything like hearing someone say the words.

  Captain Paulson left her standing on the sidewalk, got back in the car, drove off. Just like that.

  By then, the patrol cars had packed up their suspects and driven off, leaving her alone in the dark, looking around, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. They’d put up a portable plastic barricade and strung yellow police tape around the wreck of the SUV. The sound of water trickled along the gutters as the ice slick melted.

  She jogged up a few blocks until she reached the main block where the late bus still ran, where she pulled off her mask and acted like a normal person until she got home. She kept thinking Teddy would circle back around to try to find her. But no, their trajectories carried them in straight lines, away. She could have called Teddy, she supposed, but she didn’t feel like waiting for him.

  An hour or so after the whole thing went down, Teddy texted her: “UOK?”

  She texted back “FU” and switched her phone off.

  She was done with this whole vigilante crap.

  * * *

  On the ride to school the next morning, Bethy stared at Anna the whole time. Studying her, until Anna finally rounded on her. “What?”

  “You look like one of the kids in the antidrug commercials.”

  Was it the shadows under her eyes? The gauntness because she hadn’t been eating well? Or the surly glare?

  When Anna didn’t say anything, Bethy went on. “Is that what it is? You don’t have superpowers, you’re doing drugs?”

  Anna managed to keep from snarling in reply. “I am not doing drugs.”

  “Then it’s superpowers.”

  Anna didn’t say anything, and Bethy narrowed her gaze, as if all she had to do was stare at Anna long enough and the truth would emerge.

  “What am I thinking?” Bethy asked.

  “What? I don’t know. Probably that I’m a jerk and a terrible human being.”

  She frowned as if disappointed. “No, that’s not it. I was thinking of the Pythagorean theorem. Just checking to see if you’ve got Dad’s telepathy.”

  “I didn’t get Dad’s telepathy.”

  “Well, yeah, I can see that now. But what did you get?”

  Again, Anna couldn’t think of what to say. She was slightly in awe and slightly scared of her little sister. Bethy’s lips turned up in a victorious smile.

  “There’s nothing,” Anna said preemptively. “Absolutely nothing.”

/>   “Yeah, right.” Bethy turned away, disgusted.

  Tom was driving, and Anna caught him glancing at them in the rearview mirror. She wanted to yell at him, too, to mind his own business and stop looking like he felt sorry for her. But staying angry was taking too much energy as it was.

  Teddy texted a dozen more times and tried calling; she ignored him. She didn’t want to see Teddy, or even Teia, though Teia would be interested to hear about her conversation with Paulson. The cops really were babysitting them.

  Her power meant that even though she could tell Teddy was ranging the halls looking for her, she could stay out of his way. Teia and the others were parked at their usual spot on the front stairs, and Anna decided to share her discovery.

  “You were right,” Anna said. “The cops are keeping an eye on us.”

  Teia didn’t look at all surprised. “How? How did they know where to find us?”

  “My mother knows everything. My dad probably told her. I don’t know exactly how, but she’s a crazy control freak and she couldn’t let this alone.”

  “Then why? I mean, why not just arrest us? And how did they know where to find us? You don’t think your mom told my mom, did she?”

  Anna’s frustration got the better of her. “I’m sure she did. It’s obvious, it’s like training wheels, they think we’re too young and stupid to do this on our own, and they’re probably right. We’re not real superheroes, we never were, this is all just some kids’ game in the park.”

  Teia was a wall, no reaction except a twist of her lips. Anna wasn’t even sure the other girl heard her.

  “Does that mean you’re quitting?” Teia asked finally. Like this was a game, like there could even be a winner.

  “There’s nothing to quit!” Anna said. “I never did anything!”

  She wanted Teia to admit she was right, but Teia would never do that. She just glared, another person feeling sorry for Anna.

  Then Teddy was coming out the front door, and Anna stomped around the corner and to a side entrance so she wouldn’t have to look at him. So much for prom. So much for everything.

  FIFTEEN

  CELIA read the screaming headline on the Rooftop Watch website: “Five-Hero Smashup in Hell’s Alley!” with a subheader: “Trinity and Espionage Team Up?” The only picture the site had been able to get showed the aftermath, a soaking-wet street and a smashed SUV, reminiscent of the old days when Typhoon patrolled regularly. An “unnamed police source” revealed details, naming who’d been involved in stopping the high-speed car chase. Whether by chance or design, all of Commerce City’s newest heroes had come together, then scattered before police could stop them for questioning, or before any reporters could get pictures or interviews. All in all, a classic superhuman outing.

  Mark called as she finished reading all the articles she could find on the incident. “Have you checked the news yet or do I get to be the one to tell you?” he said.

  “Just reading it now. Pretty spectacular. What really happened?”

  “Pretty much exactly as you read it.” He paused, and his tone changed, the overworked cop giving way to chagrined friend. “I sort of pretended to arrest Anna.”

  Celia raised a brow and was grateful Mark couldn’t see her expression. “Oh?”

  “I just wanted to talk to one of them. Show them that this isn’t a game, that they shouldn’t be screwing around.”

  Oh, poor Anna, she must have been twisted up in knots. When he said “pretended,” how far did he get? Handcuffs? Driving her to the station? Celia had seen the girls briefly at breakfast, and she hadn’t noticed Anna being any more surly or upset than usual. The kid was burying it all down deep.

  “Did it work?” Celia asked carefully, in lieu of yelling at Mark for scaring her daughter.

  “Well, she’s onto us. She knows you know who they are and that you’re keeping track of them.”

  Power or no, Anna was good at putting pieces together. Smart kid, and Celia was proud. “Mark—thank you. For looking out for her. For all of us.”

  “It’s like you’ve always told me, we superhumans have to stick together. Take care, Celia. You sound tired.”

  If all she did was look and sound tired, she was doing well, because she felt terrible.

  * * *

  Another week and another treatment passed. It was harder than Celia thought it would be. Mostly because she’d been so sure she could get through it without much trouble with sheer willpower, and that wasn’t how it ended up going. After the second treatment she threw up everything she’d eaten that day and slept for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to eat. She couldn’t focus to read. She dreaded the next treatment. And the next, and the next …

  Claiming a sudden cold or flu would work only a couple of times without raising more suspicions—or proving the very reality she was trying to deny, that she was very ill. During just the second round, other people than Mark tsked her sympathetically over the phone and asked if this was maybe serious and should she see a doctor. That’s what got me into this, she wanted to mutter at them.

  She needed more time, just another week or so, before she came clean.

  She planned a “business trip” that would allow her to vanish for a few days. She arranged fake itineraries and ticket stubs, just in case someone, namely Majors, checked. Meanwhile, she could hide, be sick, recover, and no one would know.

  “And how many weeks is this going to go on?” Arthur questioned, looking over her fake itinerary. Celia decided she could recycle the itinerary several times over, “traveling” as part of an ongoing project that would fall through at the last minute. She could account for six weeks doing this, almost the whole round of chemotherapy. She began to entertain a hope that she wouldn’t have to tell anyone at all, get cured and let it all fall behind her. A silly dream. She was only making things worse.

  “Just a few,” she told him, without confidence.

  When she started leaving chunks of hair on her pillow, she shaved her head entirely and took to wearing the custom wig she’d had specially made to match her own hair. She penciled in her vanishing eyebrows.

  “I’m worried about you,” Arthur said. And she could feel it. The emotion was strong enough to slip past his barriers.

  “I know. You’re very tolerant.”

  “You’re lying to the people who love you most.”

  “It’s temporary. Just till the lawsuit gets cleared up.”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even seem to be thinking anything. He stood at the window of her sickroom, her temporary prison, gazing out to a constrained version of the panorama available in the living room. The view here offered a mere slice of the city, not half of it, like the other one did.

  “Next week,” she insisted. “The preliminary hearing on the lawsuit will happen, we’ll get it dismissed, the planning committee will finally vote, and then I’ll be able to take off as much time as I need. I’ll tell everyone then.”

  “And explain to them why you’ve been lying to them for the last month?”

  He made it sound terrible. Because it was terrible. “Yes,” she said.

  “We’ll have this conversation again next week,” he said.

  She nodded. She’d be ready, one way or another.

  * * *

  Celia had contrived to bring the young would-be superheroes together. Now the problem was: Where to point them? Preferably someplace that wasn’t in the middle of a car chase and wreck, and that wasn’t breaking and entering. Something quiet, involving surveillance and reporting. She had an idea about that.

  On the plus side, Celia had direct access to so-called Espionage. On the downside, she had to feed Anna the appropriate information without looking like she was doing it on purpose, or Anna would never take the bait. She left her office because she was feeling lonely and restless and wanted to be close to her mother, to be in the presence of the old comforting sounds of cooking and conversation, and to meet the girls when they came home, before she locked h
erself away on her so-called business trip. That was the excuse, a side benefit of the plan.

  In the meantime, it wouldn’t seem strange at all if Celia just happened to spread some work on the table, to leave a folder or two with some pages suggesting some directions of inquiry. Directions that someone who could walk through walls might be particularly suited to follow up on, that a mundane corporate legal team could not.

  After crunching numbers, she and her staff discovered that Superior Construction wouldn’t gain anything by stopping West Corp from winning the city planning contract—because it was a shell company that didn’t have any assets invested in any development contracts. Which meant it had other reasons for stopping West Corp. Which again pointed to Danton Majors, but her lawyers still couldn’t draw that line directly. Why would Majors want to stymie West Corp? A multitude of possibilities existed, from simply publicly embarrassing the company to potentially crippling its future investment plans. West Corp was much more diversified than that, of course, and any one part of its operations failing wouldn’t cripple the company. Which made Celia think this was all a red herring. Distracting her from what? She needed to watch the magician’s other hand.

  The law office that fronted the ownership of the company was the brick wall she kept coming up against, so that was the information she left casually lying out on the kitchen table. These were the strings controlling Superior Construction’s actions. Espionage might be able to follow the strings back to learn who—and why.

  SIXTEEN

  “SOMETHING fishy’s going on here but I can’t figure out what,” Celia said.

  Anna came home to find her parents sitting at the dining table outside the kitchen. Suzanne was fixing dinner. Smelled like Mexican, warm and spicy. She was sautéing chunks of beef in a skillet at the stove—which was off, as usual. All the heat was coming from her hand, her power, and the meat sizzled and popped in its juices. It was something Anna had watched Grandma do her whole life, but now, suddenly, she saw it from an outsider’s perspective. And it was weird, the way she held the skillet flat on one hand while stirring with the other. Everybody’s grandma cooked, yeah, but not like that. And no other kid had to sing songs to herself all the time to keep her father from knowing what she was thinking.