After the Golden Age

THIRTEEN

MARK and Arthur both told her what they’d learned from the poolside kidnappers. They weren’t part of the so-called Strad Brothers, the group that masterminded the heist at the symphony gala. They were, however, working for the Strad Brothers. Criminal subcontractors, which would have been laughable if Celia hadn’t seen that kind of organization in action. It hinted at a larger conspiracy. The details were murky. They’d only been instructed to take Celia West alive. A new conspiracy, with her at the center?

The evening news didn’t mention her, thankfully. They had a bigger story. She and Mark lounged on her sofa, watching.

The pretty anchorwoman read her cue seriously. “Our top story, a robbery has taken place at the Commerce City Botanical Gardens. The perpetrators are believed to be the same group of thieves that stole four priceless Stradivarius instruments from the symphony gala last week.”

Celia turned the volume up.

“The thieves’ target this time? Three prize-winning koi. Because of their breeding potential, these koi were estimated to be worth tens of thousands of dollars.”

Mark huffed. “Fish? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Witnesses say the thieves took the fish from the Garden’s Japanese pond, an ornamental landscape that forms the central attraction of the Garden’s collection. Apparently, the fish were taken alive. Garden officials expressed some hope that they could be recovered in the same condition.”

They should be so lucky. This gang obviously knew what it was doing and chose its targets carefully: unusual, high-ticket items that would be impossible to unload on the conventional marketplace.

“They’re making a statement, not robbing for money,” she said.

“That means there’s a pattern. It makes them easier to catch.”

Both robberies coincided with her kidnapping attempts—just like her kidnapping off the bus coincided with a city-wide crime spree. She didn’t think she rated classification as a valuable cultural artifact. But in all three cases, she’d provided a distraction. Law enforcement and the supers had been looking at her, not at any robberies.

Until the Strad Brothers were caught, this was likely to happen again.

Now that she knew what to look for, she could spot her bodyguards. The next day, gazing upward, she caught a glimpse of Breezeway jumping from one building to the next, across the street from where she waited for the bus. He had a good view of her and all the streets around her. She almost waved hello.

Back in college, Celia had taken perverse delight in walking across campus alone in the middle of the night. As a freshman she’d gotten tired of the women’s groups and security activists insisting that no girl should ever venture forth into the darkness without a can of mace and a uniformed cop escorting her. That reeked of regressive Victorian thinking. Celia made a point of walking alone, with enough of a badass attitude that no one ever approached her.

One night, a breeze kicked up autumn leaves as she marched from the library to her dorm, half a mile away. It was a nice night for a walk. Her peasant skirt swished around her legs, her oversize cotton tunic was cozy. In another month the air would be too cold for comfort.

Or in another hour it would be too cold. The breeze turned into a gust, a harbinger of a storm. It whipped her hair into her face, she had to hold her skirt down, and she started leaning into the wind to walk.

Across the street, the trees weren’t blowing at all.

Her feet slipped, and she yelped. Cushioned by a whirlwind pounding around her, she floated a few feet off the ground. Her backpack slipped off her shoulder. She flailed her arms; it felt almost like swimming. The pocket of wind held her like a hand. Thank God she was wearing tights; her skirt tossed around her hips.

From above her, a man floated down, arms outstretched, riding the breeze like it was a surfboard. He wore the unmistakable sleek costume of a superhuman vigilante—or villain. A strip of silk ran along the insides of his arms, down his torso, rippling like sails. He wore a mask on the top part of his face. His frame was thin—barely postadolescent. He had overgrown brown hair and a shit-eating grin.

Celia struggled, but she only flopped like a fish out of water.

“You’re Celia West?” he said, calmly hovering before her.

“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.”

Together, 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.