If At First You Don’t Succeed 2

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I could sense Leon communicating with someone – it had to be either Feral or Menagerie. I blocked it out. The heat washed over me in a wave, and for a few moments it was just about the only thing I noticed. My eyes were closed, and I checked on my reserves – they were a bit lower, and dropping as my body rapidly healed. I screamed for a few seconds, though I doubt anyone heard me. When the wave of heat had passed and I could feel the pain starting to recede I forced myself back to my feet, looking around.

Michaels and Dustin were walking toward the door together, trying to leave. All but one of the thugs was moving, now, trying to get out of the room, though they were all in bad shape.

“Menagerie, we’re going to need firefighters to go with the police,” I said, stunned. Things had gone very wrong, very quickly. It took me a moment to start thinking again.

I got up and sprinted at Michaels’ back, jumping over the reaching hands of one goon, and tackled him to the ground. The kid stumbled and fell forward, turning to look at us fearfully, and Michaels kicked backward, hitting my face. I bit my tongue and tasted blood, but stood again.

“Michaels and Dustin are heading downstairs. Almost everyone else is pretty messed up, and Michaels got to Dustin’s head,” I said.

I was about to follow them when I turned and looked back into the bedroom. The goons there were moving, but not in a reassuring way; if I left, they could burn to death.

“God dammit!” I yelled. I went back into the room.

“I’ve got to keep these assholes from burning to death, Menagerie,” I said. “You guys will have to stop Michaels. Is Feral under control yet?”

There was a brief pause. “Feral’s out of play for now,” Menagerie said. “Heavyweight and I will handle Michaels, then help you empty the house.”

I walked into the room, helping one of the thugs stand; he looked at me in shock.

“Help him get out!” I yelled, pointing to one of the other guys. Then I moved to a second. There had been five thugs in the room, and I had shoved one out through the hole in the floor; that left four. The one I’d just helped looked like he was in the best shape, overall, despite being a bit dazed. The guy he was helping was hurt worse, but looked like he was thinking more clearly; together, the two of them should be all right. The remaining two were another story. One was the guy who’d been under the door, and his leg was bleeding badly; it had soaked part of the carpet by now, and he was pale. The other wasn’t moving at all. I ran to him first, trying to feel for a pulse; I couldn’t tell if he had one or not. He didn’t seem to be breathing. I slapped him a few times, hoping for some reaction, but he didn’t move.

I looked at the other guy. I couldn’t carry them both. I made a decision.

I went over to the man under the door – actually, he was out from under it now. He took a weak swing at me, and I caught his fist.

“Do you want to stay here or not?” I yelled, pointing at the fire.

He looked a little dazed. I couldn’t tell if it was blood loss, surprise at what had happened, or something else. I repeated myself, shaking him a bit, and his eyes seemed to focus a bit as he shook his head.

“Then let me help you!” I said.

He nodded, coughing.

I got an arm under his shoulders and we managed to get him hobbling on one foot, leaning on me for support. We got to the stairs and I could see that the other two guys I’d sent on ahead were at the bottom, moving toward the front door.

We started down.

“Flicker, hurry,” Menagerie said. “Dustin is keeping Heavyweight back, and I can’t do much right now!”

The first few steps were a bitch, but the guy clinging to me for dear life was motivated; we got into a rhythm. At least we were going down; he was partially dead weight, but I just had to make sure I wasn’t dropping him. While one of his legs was a bleeding mess, the other looked fine.

It was still hard. I was focusing on one step at a time, blocking out almost everything else, and I was actually surprised when we reached the bottom; it felt like it happened too fast given the pace we were moving at. A glance back showed me that the fire was spreading fast. The two guys who had been downed by Feral were no longer in the area by the front door, though they had left bloodstains and a partially crushed gun behind.

We shuffled out the front door, and I saw the situation. Heavyweight was standing in front of their car, in the driveway, refusing to let them leave. Dustin had a little patch of fire on the ground in front of him, with one hand held out, palm down, over it. Michaels was next to him, with a hand on his shoulder, two goons standing next to him with guns – I recognized one of them as the same guy who’d given me so much trouble before, and the bastard had his shotgun back again, or another like it. The rest of them were sprawled on the ground, but one guy was bandaging the others, at least. I couldn’t see Menagerie anywhere.

As we came out, Mr. Shotgun turned toward us. He started to raise his gun and then lowered it again, eyes narrowed in anger, but he kept it ready as I walked my rescuee away from the building.

Then two cars and a van pulled onto the street and headed our way, at least one burning rubber as they squealed to a stop.

The doors opened and Mary Wade got out of the car, with three more armed guys. Two of them had pistols, but the third had what I thought was a rifle. The other two vehicles stayed further back, and no one got out of them. Mary surveyed the situation. For a few seconds we were all eyeing each other uneasily, trying to figure out what to do. The police would be along at some point; when that happened, things would turn in our favor. At the same time, we had serious problems. Dragging this situation out, even as a standoff, could cause some of the goons to bleed out. Given what I’d seen from Dustin so far, I wasn’t prepared to write them all off as “bad guys, don’t feel guilty if they get hurt,” and even if I had been I didn’t want them to die. Leaving the one guy upstairs was bad enough, despite my confidence that he was dead already. I didn’t want more on my conscience.

“Menagerie, where are you?” I asked.

“Across the street, behind the new arrivals,” she said.

“What’s Feral’s deal? Is she still flipping out?”

“I really don’t want to bring her back out right now,” Menagerie said.

Fuck. That was at least three different flavors of bad.

I set my rescuee down on the ground, bending down as if to help him, then vanished. I closed my left eye and checked my reserves – Leon was down to basically nothing, I was at about two-thirds. All that moving around while invisible had taken something out of me, and so had healing from the burns I’d taken, along with the shot to my leg.

Once I was invisible, I stepped back and to one side a few feet, then crouched. I tried to look at everyone at the same time.

Heavyweight seemed to take it as a signal, or maybe that was when he had his idea; in either case, he moved. He jumped up and back, over the car behind him – the one Michaels had used to get here. When he landed on the other side, he stepped forward and brought one fist down on the car’s hood in a crashing blow. I could see the metal dent inward. He hit it twice more like that, quickly, then leapt at Mary’s car.

I got it as he was moving; without the cars, they’d have a much harder time getting away from the police, who Menagerie had called. Even if he couldn’t get them all, they might have to leave some people behind. Plus, it would be easier for us to stall them. The wounded guys wouldn’t even want to run, if they were smart; without cars, being arrested was probably their best chance at prompt medical attention.

He stopped in midair, folding as if his stomach had hit something, and I noticed Mary; she was looking up at him, one hand outstretched. He hung there for a moment, then went flying back.

She’d said she couldn’t just let us win if it came down to it. Considering that she’d warned us she was coming, I was inclined to trust her. Still, she was the only one of them who could even slow Heavyweight down, except for Dustin; if I gave her a good enough excuse to “lose”, and I was right about her being on the level with us, then we’d have an advantage.

I stayed invisible and started walking toward her as quietly as I could, with her group on the street in front of me, the house behind me, and all the other bad guys plus Dustin to my left.

Mr. Shotgun spun towards me, his weapon coming up, and he pulled the trigger, at which point I remembered what Mary had said about his powers. I dove for the ground and felt another set of stings, this time on my left leg instead of my right, and I lost my focus. I became visible again, and he brought his gun up for another shot. Before he could do anything, Heavyweight came rushing in – Michaels shouted a warning, and he dived to the side, but Heavyweight grabbed him in both hands as he landed, ripping the shotgun away and then breaking it over his knee. The guy ran, and Dustin sent a stream of fire at Heavyweight, screaming incoherently with what could have been any emotion, or maybe just pure adrenaline.

Heavyweight retreated, and I looked up to see Michaels whispering in Dustin’s ear, still keeping a hand on his shoulder in an avuncular way that was profoundly disturbing under the circumstances.

Then an ear-splitting roar rang out. It sounded like Feral, but not quite. Everyone turned to look in that direction, and I shuffled out of the way as Dustin unintentionally sent his fire over a wider area in the process. One of the wounded goons was lying in the way; his jacket caught, and he ditched it immediately, crawling feebly away from the flames.

Menagerie ran across the street towards us all, but as she ran she dropped to all fours, her form distorting to look almost like Feral’s, and she sprang at Mary and her three guys. Before she could hit, she was struck in mid-air; she wasn’t stopped like Heavyweight had been, but she was launched up and over them. She spun and flipped in mid-air, landing on the wrecked car in the driveway on all fours, and I got a good look at her. She looked like Feral, now, but more solid somehow. Her front paws flexed and her claws lengthened, scoring gouges in the car’s roof and then tearing right through it.

She roared again and jumped at Michaels and Dustin.

Michaels fell backward and pulled Dustin down on top of himself, and a curtain of fire sprang up between them and the cat.

“Menagerie, are you okay?” I said frantically. “What the hell is going on? Is that Feral or you?”

There was no immediate reply, and Feral/Menagerie jumped to the side, running around the fire, then hit one of the guys with guns – three of them emptied their pistols into the charging form, but it didn’t slow as it tackled the middle guy to the ground. Claws slashed out at the guy on the left, and he stumbled backward, barely avoiding them. The cat bent over and the guy on the ground screamed for a second before he was cut off by a disgusting, wet sound. I couldn’t see him well, but he stopped moving almost immediately, and when the cat straightened it spat a mouthful of something on the ground.

“Help me!” Menagerie screamed. It felt far away, muffled somehow.

She felt terrified, sick, and angry, all at once, but the anger was the strongest. For a second, the cat seemed to twitch and shudder, crouching low and shaking its head, but then it roared again and attacked.

It stopped cold, hitting one of Mary’s orbs, and I realized that she’d moved closer when I wasn’t watching. I was standing in the open like a gawking bystander, but everyone was so busy watching the cat that they didn’t give a shit.

Michaels got back to his feet, pulling Dustin with him, and they started backing toward Mary. The other guys were doing the same, whether they were armed or not. One of them stumbled and the cat’s head swiveled toward him. It took a single step forward, and he screamed in fear, a high-pitched wail, before emptying his gun. He stumbled again, falling to the ground, and crawled away from the cat, staring at the ground in front of himself. He was obviously too terrified to even look at it.

Shotgun Guy came at me, and I only noticed because of Leon’s timely warning. I ducked under a hook punch and got kneed in the stomach. He grabbed my collar and wrenched me down to the ground, pulling a knife from somewhere and stabbing down.

I shoved a hand in front of my face, letting him impale it, and then yanked the knife away and pulled it from my hand. He punched me in the stomach with one hand while trying to keep the knife down on the ground with the other, and I covered his eyes with my free hand, then gave him another flash of light right in the eyes.

“Fucking lights!” he grunted. “Fuck you!”

It gave me a second in which his grip was weaker. I used my free right hand to grab his, letting me bring the knife into play again; he dove away from me, rolling to the side. Unable to see, he didn’t have much choice. I kicked his leg, tripping him, and he landed on his stomach. I put the knife to his throat.

“Don’t move,” I said.

He stilled, and I looked up, trying to see what else had changed.

The cat – I was trying not to think about the fact that Menagerie was in there – continued to prowl back and forth as the bad guys retreated, taking Dustin with them toward the three vehicles. He was out, and Michaels was carrying him; the cat was staring at the kid and looking angrier every step he moved with Michaels. Mary stopped retreating, looking at me.

Heavyweight came back. He jumped into the center of the group of bad guys, knocking them down as he landed. Mary had been looking at me and hadn’t seen him in time to stop him, but when his fist lashed out toward her face it was stopped cold again, inches away. When she hit him again, Heavyweight grabbed for Dustin and missed – then latched onto Michaels instead, taking him along for the ride. Dustin fell on the ground, clearly unconscious; he didn’t look hurt.

The cat sprinted after them, and I figured Michaels was a dead man. I let Shotgun Guy go, sprinting after Heavyweight, and bent space hard. I shot through the middle of the bad guys in a step or two, catching a brief glimpse of surprise on Mary’s face.

Heavyweight saw or heard the cat coming; as it lunged at Michaels, lying on the ground groaning, he hit it with an uppercut under the jaw and it twisted, nearly falling on its back. He kicked it twice, his heavy booted foot making a dull sound as it hit, and the cat was knocked onto its side.

“Get her out of here!” I said.

Heavyweight glanced at me for a second before turning back. He charged the cat as it regained its feet, tackled it shoulder-first, and jumped away. I saw him throw the thing away from himself before he landed out of sight. It looked like one of its feet hit him before I lost sight of them. I could still hear them fighting, though.

I bent over and grabbed Michaels, lifting him up by his neck, and put my knife to his throat, turning to face Mary and the guys with her. At this point, two of them were still in the fight. The others were injured too badly, or caring for those who were. One was edging toward Dustin.

I started walking towards them, shoving Michaels ahead of me, and the two who were in good shape pointed their guns at me. I wanted to run off and help Menagerie and Feral – or at least try to – but I had a bad feeling that if we left without Dustin they might not calm down at all. Not to mention the fact that leaving the kid with these people for any longer was completely unacceptable.

Leon and I conferred for about two seconds.

Before they could do anything, I swept my hand sideways in front of Michaels’ throat and kicked him to the ground, then vanished.

It was dark, and the faint, dark red light I’d held in my hand must have sold the lie; they all reacted like they’d just seen me murder someone and vanish into thin air. Before Michaels could talk and spoil it, I sprinted straight into the group, scooped Dustin up in my arms, and ran. I closed my left eye for a second, gauging how much energy I had: it dropped below one-third.

They shouted behind me and I heard a gunshot, but when I finally turned to look back – halfway across the lawn of the next house – Mary was hurriedly rushing the guys into the cars, including Michaels. One of them stopped and ran back from the van with a container, and I quickly realized he was spreading something – maybe gasoline – over the lawn and the wrecked car. They took two or three unmoving bodies with them; I wasn’t sure if they were dead or just unconscious.

They drove away, leaving the burning house and bloody ground behind them. I was too exhausted to move, but I gratefully let my invisibility drop – I had just a sliver of energy left as I sank to my knees, putting Dustin down for a moment.

Maybe a half-minute after they were gone, a figure came running out of the burning house, and I wondered if it was the last guard – the one I’d left for dead.

When he turned to look back, I caught a better look and realized it was the balding guy who’d picked up the drugs at the storage place. The one we’d thought might be a doctor, or something.

I stood up, holding Dustin in my arms, and started to circle the property, steering clear of the fire and the light it cast, trying to work my way towards where I’d last seen Heavyweight fighting…the cat. The doctor, or whatever he was, turned and ran. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere except away, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d apparently been scared enough to hide in the burning house until it looked like everybody was gone, and given that he hadn’t tried to join the cars before they left, I didn’t think it was Feral that had scared him. Or not just Feral, at least.

I soon heard the sounds of fighting again, as I got farther from the fire. I closed in cautiously, afraid of what I would see.

What I found was Heavyweight smacking the cat with a piece of a fence like it was a baseball bat, hitting it on each side. It was obviously disoriented. The wood broke and he dropped it, laying into the cat with his fists and feet. The firelight was mostly blocked, so I couldn’t see too well; my eyes were adjusting to the decrease in lighting.

I thought a quick prayer. God didn’t owe me any favors, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. This qualified as a time of need.

“Dustin’s safe,” I said loudly.

They both jerked toward me in surprise.

“He’s not hurt,” I said. I meant physically, of course. I wasn’t a doctor, but he seemed fine. Mentally was another matter; I wasn’t sure whether Dustin or Raquel would be more messed up after tonight. Fortunately, I was too exhausted to think it through right then.

The cat looked at Dustin, then me, then growled again.

“Feral, it’s over,” Leon said.

“Raquel, the fighting is done,” I said. “It’s done. Dustin’s here. We can take him home. Take him back to his mother.”

The big cat shook its head fiercely, then slashed at the ground.

A moment later it just dissolved away into nothing, and Raquel fell to the ground. After a few seconds she jerked her mask off and threw up, pushing herself to one side and falling next to the puddle of vomit. Lying there, she retched and sobbed. When nothing more came up, she caught her breath for a few seconds before shoving one hand, finger extended, into her mouth.

She threw up again, convulsively. When it was finally over, she stumbled to her feet and away from the spot, then fell again and kept sobbing, curling up into a ball.

I stared at her, then looked at Heavyweight. He looked back at me, frozen.

I walked up to him and held Dustin out, and he took the kid in his arms.

I grabbed Raquel’s mask, stuffing it in a pocket automatically. No sense leaving extra evidence. Hopefully the fire would destroy the evidence of us, along with the evidence of the bad guys. I walked over to Raquel, kneeling next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder gently.

She twitched violently, but not away from me. She just lay there, shuddering. I squeezed her shoulder. I couldn’t find the right words, assuming any existed. I wasn’t even sure if I could talk, let alone whether I should. I was exhausted.

Raquel’s shudders turned to shivers, then started to slow. After a minute or two, she turned toward me, but she couldn’t quite meet my eyes. It was too dark to see much, but her face was drawn. She tried to talk once, twice, then a third time.

Finally she just looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said silently. I could feel her disgust, a powerful wave of nausea and self-loathing like nothing I’d ever felt from someone else. Leon’s emotions had never been that intense, and Feral always seemed to be a bit aloof when we’d communicated. Raquel felt like she was at sea, clinging to a piece of wreckage and wondering whether she ought to let go.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. I didn’t even know if it was true. I certainly didn’t believe she’d intended any of…that…to happen. My stomach was turning as I remembered, but I forced myself to focus on now, on helping Raquel. Everything else could wait.

“We need to go,” I said. “The cops will be coming soon.”

She didn’t react.

I squeezed her shoulder again. “Please,” I said. “I’ll take care of things, but I need you to get up. We need to move.”

Raquel sat up, looking up at me, and this time she did meet my eyes.

“I tasted his blood,” she said numbly. “I remember swallowing it.”

I grabbed her gently by the armpits and lifted her up, looking her in the eye, then took my mask off so she could see my face.

“We’re going to fix this,” I said. I gave it all the confidence and sincerity I could. More of the latter than the former. Leon backed me up.

Raquel closed her eyes, not saying anything else aloud or privately, but when I put an arm under her shoulders, she let me guide her as we walked.

We made it to the car before we heard the police sirens. It was a mostly abandoned part of town. Response times were slow. Besides, it hadn’t actually been that long.

There were towels in the trunk. I’d thought ahead a bit, and figured that we wouldn’t want to bleed on my rented car. I certainly didn’t want to answer any of the questions that would raise, or pay the fees. They went on top of the seats.

Heavyweight and Dustin went in the back. I eased Raquel into the front passenger seat, and the open doors triggered the car’s ceiling light, showing me her face.

She didn’t look hurt. She just looked horrified. Dustin was still out cold. In the dim light from the car, I finally noticed that my shirt was mostly gone, burned away by Dustin’s fire. I took off my mask, got into the driver’s seat, and got us away from that damned place, wondering what the body count was.

I’d have to ask Mary. I’d have to ask her a lot of things.

First things first, though. Get away from the crime scene. Help Dustin and Raquel.

Then I could try to figure out whether I was about to turn into a psychological wreck. I really didn’t want to answer that one yet. I wasn’t sure whether Heavyweight was calm, numb, or just locked up tight behind his mask.

We didn’t say a word as I drove away.

Raquel was still crying in the seat next to me, barely moving as tears dripped down her face.

Silence, for a few minutes. I got some distance, then parked the car when I thought we had privacy. I glanced at Raquel, and saw that her face was still wet. She wasn’t wiping the tears away, so I couldn’t say for certain whether she was still crying or not. I looked back at Heavyweight and Dustin. Heavyweight still wore his mask, and he had one hand holding Dustin upright in his seat.

I sighed.

“Okay,” I said. “Michaels probably got to Dustin. We need to figure out what to do about it.” I rubbed at my eyes absently as I thought. “I’m going to call the Philly Five, see if they can help.”

Raquel didn’t say a word.

Heavyweight cleared his throat. “We should hand the kid over to the police,” he said.

I looked back at him. I didn’t have my mask on, I realized, but it didn’t seem all that important at the time. He still wore his. “The police can’t help him with his brain, and the FBI is a maybe at best. If the Philly Five can’t help, then we can still go to them. If we take him to the FBI first, they might not be able to let the Philly Five try to help, even if they want to. It’s probably against the rules. Assuming they have rules that remotely cover this. If not, then one guy who wants to keep his job could screw him over,” I said, gesturing at Dustin.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “All right.”

I pulled out my phone and put together a message to Bloodhound. Once it was sent, I looked at Raquel and Heavyweight.

I sighed. “I have no idea when they’ll see my message, or how long it will take them to get here,” I said. “If you guys need to go home, you can.”

Raquel didn’t react. Heavyweight looked at Dustin, then back at me. He didn’t speak, but I could see his answer plainly enough.

I played with my phone a bit, then saw that I’d gotten a message from Mary. Two, actually. One was from before, warning us that she was on her way. The second was more recent.

“Going to lay low for a few days, at least. Please don’t do anything else until we talk. Probably moving to new apartment, too; don’t try to reach me at old one.”

“Dustin okay?”

-MW

I sent back a quick reply.

“Got it. No noise for a bit.”

“Dustin not wounded.”

I showed Raquel the messages, hoping to give her something else to focus on, but she barely noticed.

“Raquel, talk to me,” I said. “What are you thinking?”

Nothing. I reached out with my right hand, gently taking hold of her left. Her head drooped forward, hiding her face from me, and I looked away.

She’d need to talk to someone, sooner or later. Heavyweight didn’t know as much about her as I did, and couldn’t relate to her connection with Feral the same way. Neither could her mother. As far as I knew, there was no one else who knew as much as I did about this part of her life, so I was nominated by circumstance.

So, should I try to talk to her now, or let it wait?

Hard to say. I generally preferred to be left to myself when I needed to think, or grapple with something tough, but that didn’t mean it was the healthiest choice for me, let alone for her. I didn’t really know that much about Raquel as a person, yet.

We could talk silently, but there was still a difference between conversing alone and talking with two people in the backseat. I decided to wait.

I didn’t let go of her hand, though. Hopefully, the human contact would help her stay sane for now.

It took more than an hour for Bloodhound to reply, but I was just grateful he had gotten to it that night. He said he was on the way with help. I had followed the rules we’d established previously, which meant I couldn’t describe the situation explicitly, but I’d managed to make it clear that we weren’t fighting anymore, and to hint pretty blatantly that the problem was mental tampering. I was hopeful.

“They’re on the way,” I said. “Shouldn’t be too long. I’m taking us to the meeting spot now.”

We went back to the familiar park spot, complete with remnants of a playground. We all sat in the car, waiting.

Bloodhound was as good as his word; they made the trip faster than I’d expected. Comet, Bloodhound, and a third person. Someone I didn’t recognize.

I got out to meet them, and Heavyweight joined me. Raquel stayed where she was. I offered her mask and helped her pull it on when she accepted.

“So, what’s the problem exactly?” Bloodhound asked.

I gestured back to the car. “The kid was kidnapped, held for days. One of the people who had him is supposed to be some kind of telepath or something. When we went to get him, things got messy and he attacked us. It was a pretty bad situation, but I think his head’s been messed with. Some kind of manipulation to make him more loyal, or something like that. We want to get him home, but if he’s just going to snap and start lighting everything on fire, there’s no point. Can you help?”

Bloodhound and Comet turned to look at the third figure. “Stalker?” Comet prompted.

Stalker was female, dressed mostly in black or something dark enough that I couldn’t tell the difference at the time, and shorter than Comet. That was about all I could determine, although I was distracted. Her whole body as concealed, and her outfit looked thickly padded enough that I couldn’t tell how much of her bulk was her body and how much was armor. Even her hair was hidden. It seemed to be a theme for the group, hiding as much as possible about themselves.

Her voice was a bit muffled, too. “Maybe,” she said. “I’ll need to take a look at him. Bring him out.”

The request was clearly directed at me. Heavyweight and I walked back to the car, pulled Dustin out, and brought him over. We set him down on a bench, lying on his back.

We were lucky he hadn’t woken up yet. I hadn’t even seen him fall unconscious. I wasn’t sure what had done it. I had checked his pulse and breathing, just in case, and he seemed fine.

Stalker stood over him, looking down, and didn’t move for a minute. Not wanting to disturb her, I walked over to Comet and Bloodhound.

“I get the feeling you won’t be specific, but does she have a power that might help?” I whispered.

“Yes,” Comet said.

Leon got my attention; he was thinking more clearly than me. When we’d gone up against Blitz, the Philly Five had said they had a telepathic defense, and that one of the group had set it off. At the time, the way they’d said it made me think of a device of some sort. Something one of them or an ally had built.

Now we had an alternative theory to explain it all: Stalker was a telepath. That might explain the odd, contradictory stories about her powers, the fact that she didn’t often reveal herself, and the reason they wouldn’t share a telepathic defense – they couldn’t. If Stalker protected them against other telepaths, presumably she had to be present to do it. Using her powers might not require her targets to see her, so anytime she was seen would be because it was unavoidable, and the rest of the time she would just hide. Why not? It was the smart thing to do. If I was a telepath trying to stop super powered bad guys, I’d just find the edge of my range and set up with a pair of binoculars or something.

We waited. I glanced at Raquel, sitting in the car, a few times. She stayed unmoving.

After a few minutes, Stalker sighed.

“I can help, but this is going to take a while,” she said. “Hours, at least.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Raquel, Stalker says she can help but it’s going to take hours at a minimum. Do you want a ride home?” I asked silently.

She didn’t answer. I walked over to the car, opened the door, and leaned down. “Menagerie, do you want a ride home?”

This time she nodded.

I looked at Heavyweight. “You need a ride?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m good. But I have to go. Work tomorrow. Early.”

“Okay,” I said. I looked at Comet. “I’m going to give Menagerie a ride, if that’s okay, but I’ll be back afterward.”

“Sure,” Comet said.

“Any of you need some patching up?” Bloodhound asked.

I glanced at Menagerie, then back at him. “No,” I said. I’d checked before; she wasn’t hurt. Whatever had happened, she’d been protected while it lasted, at least. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little patching up,” Heavyweight said quietly. He glanced at Menagerie. I didn’t think she heard him.

Heavyweight walked over to Bloodhound, and I got back into the driver’s seat, starting toward Raquel’s house. I hadn’t driven there before, of course. I knew enough to get to the general area, though, and I managed to get her to talk enough to direct me the rest of the way.

That had been Leon’s idea. A way to get her talking without thinking, if it went well. Distract her.

I stopped the car on her street, before we got to her house, and reached out, putting one hand on her shoulder.

“We’re here,” I said. I took a deep breath before continuing. “When you want to talk about it, get in touch, okay?”

No reaction.

“Raquel,” I said, “promise me that you’ll tell me when you’re ready to talk about it. Please.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about it,” she said.

“But you are anyway,” I pointed out. “I have a feeling that’s not going to change if you try to just forget.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be me,” I said. “But you’re going to need to talk to someone about what happened. I probably am, too.”

More waiting.

“Don’t leave me alone with her,” Raquel whispered. “Please.”

Her? She didn’t mean her mother.

Oh. Of course.

She meant Feral.

Leon and I were the only ones who could even talk to Feral, besides her. There were others, presumably, but she didn’t know them personally. Bloodhound’s friend, whom we’d met before, might qualify. But she wasn’t around and Raquel didn’t trust her anyway.

Leon and I were silent for a moment, both thinking of what to say.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Feral said to all of us. “Raquel, I‘m sorry. You must know I didn’t mean it, that I didn’t wish for it.”

“Shut up!” Raquel screamed. Her hands went to her temples, as if she wanted to squeeze something out of her head. “You promised me. You promised that you would never do that to me, but you did. You locked me in my own mind!”

Her eyes were tearing up again, though I don’t think she noticed, and her face was contorted with grief and anger.

“You know I didn’t want to hurt them,” Feral said. “I’ve always tried to use restraint. Always.”

Leon broke in gently, trying to head off the argument. “I think neither of you may have been wholly responsible,” he said. “You’ve both displayed self-control in the past. Remember what Michaels’ powers are? I think he may have done something to you.”

That was a frightening possibility that I hadn’t considered.

“Leon may be right,” I said quickly.

If he wasn’t, then we were trying to absolve them of responsibility for murder. I really wanted him to be right. Regardless, I thought Raquel and Feral would be a lot less dangerous to everyone if they didn’t have a breakdown.

I felt a stab of sadness as I realized I would be keeping a closer eye on both of them from now on, regardless of what happened from here on out. Maybe Raquel had lost control because of how much she cared about Dustin. Maybe Feral had lost control for some other reason. Maybe Michaels had pushed one or both of them. It didn’t matter, in a sense; they couldn’t be trusted as much as before, at least around Michaels. Someone needed to watch them. Leon and I were there.

“Raquel, you were as angry as I was,” Feral said. “Both of us were blind with rage. Leon must be right.”

Now I was second-guessing how quickly she seized on the idea. Dammit.

I squeezed Raquel’s shoulder again.

“I know you both,” I said. “I believe in you both. You’re better than that. Michaels must have done something. Maybe it was part of trying to turn Dustin against us, or maybe his powers didn’t work right – he could have been planning something else entirely.”

“Maybe,” Raquel said. “I guess…maybe.”

There was a spark of hope there. Now we just had to keep it alive long enough for her to bounce back.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you both,” I said. “Maybe if we learn more, we can keep it from happening. But for now…you need to let it go. You guys set out to save someone – a kid. A lot went wrong tonight, but we still got him out. The Philly Five are helping him, and pretty soon he should be going home to his mother. That’s because of you guys. Without you, Heavyweight and I probably wouldn’t have gotten involved, and we wouldn’t have found Mary either. You’ve done some good work. Don’t beat yourselves up over things going wrong when you couldn’t have known they would.”

A second later, I realized I was holding my breath and let it out slowly. I didn’t want Raquel and Feral to realize how nervous I was.

The truth was that I remembered what the thing they’d become had been like. It hadn’t looked that different from Feral’s form, but it had felt different, somehow, and when it had torn out a man’s throat it had made the act look natural. I wasn’t over that.

“Thanks,” Raquel said.

On instinct, I pulled her into a quick hug. “Come on. You need to rest. Let’s get you home, okay? Tomorrow can take care of itself until you’ve gotten some sleep. I promise I’ll be in touch first thing, to let you know how everything goes with Dustin.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I drove up in front of her house and let her out, and both of them thanked us as they walked to the front door. I saw Raquel’s mother open it before she got there, letting her in and sweeping her into a hug.

I guess she’d been worried. Part of me wondered if I should tell her everything that had happened, but there was no way I’d betray Raquel like that. Still, maybe I could encourage her to tell Carmen more, if she didn’t do it on her own.

That wouldn’t be remotely hypocritical.

Sleepy sarcasm. I needed rest too.

“Think they’re okay for now?” I asked Leon.

“For now, yes,” he said. “What about you?”

I snorted. “Right now I’m worried about Dustin, Raquel, and Feral. I’m in one piece and I don’t think I’m scarred for life. That’s good enough for now.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to release the tension I suddenly noticed there. “How about you?”

“All right, I think,” Leon answered. “Worried about them, like you. I guess we’ll see where things go from here.”

“Ready to head back?” I asked.

“Yes, let’s,” he said.

“Okay.”

I turned the car around. Carmen gave me a little nod before she closed their door.
 
 
 
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