Fall of Heroes (10 page)

Alex's eyes shot across the street in front of him. Kirbie was pinned down by Phantom's energy. He couldn't find Misty or Mallory anywhere among the panicked crowds of Deputies and onlookers. Amp held out against combatants but looked exhausted.

And then there was Gage. Titan held him up in the air by his throat. The inventor's hands shot to his white lab-coat pockets, where Alex was sure he had a stash of Gassers or some kind of weapon. But Titan caught his arm—he'd fallen for that once already, when they'd stolen the Umbra Gun from the underground base. Titan grinned, and his eyes turned to Alex, onstage. He let go of Gage's neck and swung him out to one side, holding the boy in the air.

Then Titan squeezed his fist tight around Gage's forearm.

Gage's face twisted in anguish. Even over the commotion, Alex could hear the inventor's scream, primal and filled with pain. Titan dropped the boy to the ground, kicking him out of the way like trash. Gage's arm swung loosely, awkwardly in the air. Broken.

Instinct took over for Alex. His friends. They were being hurt. They would
continue
to be hurt. Unless he acted. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his mother's voice was shouting. Not telepathically this time—it was the memory of something she'd once taught him.
Don't be afraid to strike. Protect yourself and your team, for you are one and the same. Show your enemy how powerful you are. Make them fear you.

And so he did.

All the energy that burned up inside him burst outward in an explosion of blue light. Waves of Deputies fell to the ground as the stage pitched and collapsed beneath him. His mother flew back, tumbling into the chain-link fence behind them. Photon's body was pushed to the ground, where he landed in the crowd, taking out a handful of opponents swarming Amp. And with a little guidance from Alex, Julie slammed into Phantom, freeing Kirbie.

Alex hovered in the air for a few seconds and then dropped straight to the ground, landing hard on his knees. He struggled to catch his breath. His powers had knocked the wind out of him.

“No, no, no!” Julie shouted. “Somebody, help. Dad! Shade! Anybody. Somebody do something.”

Beside the girl, Phantom was on her knees. There was a look of disbelief on her face, her dark lips forming a loose O. She slipped one hand underneath her trench, over her heart. Alex could see her pale white skin through a hole in the coat. When she brought her fingers back out, they were stained a deep red.

“My spikes.” Julie was nearing hysterics now. “I didn't know. I didn't know she was in the way.”

“No . . . ,” Shade whispered as she climbed to her feet.

Phantom fell onto her back. Shade was by her side in an instant. Phantom sputtered, but Shade shook her head, her eyes shining silver. Everyone stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Except for Julie.

“It's Alex's fault!” She was shouting now. “Alex did this.”

Before Alex could begin to process what was happening, Phantom took a ragged gasp and then went very still. He'd never imagined her skin could go any paler than it already was, but somehow that was happening right before his eyes. Then, slowly, her body began to melt away. There was no portal, no inky tendril pulling her into the Gloom like when she used her powers. Her body simply turned into darkness, until it was only a shadow, and finally, nothing at all.

There was a sudden burn in Alex's right palm. He looked down at it, the mark of Cloak staring back at him. The oily black skull began to dissipate. Phantom's energy left Alex's hand, floating up into the air in front of him before fading away completely.

“No,” Alex started. “I didn't mean to—I mean, I never wanted her to . . .”

Shade raised her head and stared at her son, her eyes normal, human, so that he could see every ounce of anger and hate in them. Without opening her mouth, she let out a psychic scream unlike anything Alex had ever felt before, an animal wail that echoed through his thoughts. All around her, people fell to their knees, clutching their heads.

The next few moments were a blur. Alex's brain felt fried from the energy it had taken to fight off his opponents and from his mother's scream. Someone—Amp—was dragging him off the stage, past Titan, who sprinted by them and toward Shade. Amp was asking him something, but Alex's head was ringing so loud he couldn't understand what Amp was saying. And then Misty was there, and he was no longer whole, just floating over the wall and through the city and the park. It was hard to piece thoughts together when he was like this, under Misty's power. Hard to make the right connections. Everything was a haze of thoughts and memories blending into one another. He saw his mother at the dinner table, eyes wet and severe, telling him and the other Betas what it was like to survive Victory Park and the horror of hearing her teammates' last thoughts shouting in her mind. Another memory, this time both of his parents, calling him the greatest weapon Cloak would ever know.

And finally, something almost completely forgotten. A Thursday outing from before his powers had ever developed. Misty was there, five or six years old. Phantom was in charge of them. They were at a carnival, or fair—he couldn't remember the details. Only that he was very happy. Misty had her hand in her aunt Phantom's. And when Alex had wanted to get his fortune read, Phantom had simply smiled at him and told him that he was destined for great things.

Alex and Misty reassembled outside a long white van with blocked-out windows. They were somewhere a few streets away from the groundbreaking catastrophe. Before he could ask questions, Lux pulled him inside the van, where his other teammates were waiting. Gage was in the seat beside him, his teeth gritted together, clutching his useless right arm as Mallory waved a cold palm over it.

“That's the last of us,” Misty said, almost collapsing into the backseat.

“Get in already!” someone shouted from the driver's seat as Amp climbed into the back and slid the door shut.

“Who . . . ?” Alex mumbled, unable to finish his thought. He felt so tired all of a sudden.

The woman in the driver's seat looked at Alex in the rearview mirror, and then nodded toward Lone Star, who sat in the passenger seat.

“I'm the cavalry,” she said.

“It can't be like this,” Lone Star murmured to himself. “How could the people of Sterling City turn on us like that? This can't be right. This can't be right.”

As they sped through the streets, he continued to chant these words over and over again, as if by saying them enough times, he could convince himself and everyone else in the van that they were true. Alex fought to keep his eyes open, to figure out what was going on, but the world faded to black around him.

10
PAPER ANIMALS

W
hen Alex woke up, he was on an unfamiliar couch in a room he'd never been in before. His forehead was freezing. The first thing he saw was a framed poster of Lone Star hanging over him. It was old, and torn in the corners—the kind of decoration that had probably moved around from wall to wall and room to room until someone finally put it behind glass to protect it. Lone Star was younger in it, his suit slightly different—a gold starburst over his heart. Alex stared at the poster, blinking, trying to make any sense of where he was or how he'd gotten there.

Phantom. The image of Shade cradling her and screaming into the sky flashed through his mind, the memories of the botched mission flooding in. His head throbbed. Around him, the couch and side table and lamp trembled.

“You're awake,” Mallory exclaimed, rushing over to him. Behind her Misty was lying unconscious on a bed. Gage watched over the girl. His right arm was in a sling.

Words started to pour out of Alex's mouth, a gush of half-formed questions and worries and confusion. When he sat up, a cold, damp towel fell from his head, landing on his lap.

“You were sweaty and gross,” Mallory said. “Gage thinks you overheated or something. I was trying to cool you down a little.” She nodded to the towel.

“Misty?” Alex asked.

“Just sleeping,” Gage said. “You both exerted an enormous amount of power today. It makes sense that you're both exhausted. You've been out for half a day.”

“Gage . . . your arm.”

“Broken, I'm afraid,” Gage said. “Carla managed to get me in a cast before Deputies were sent out to hospitals or anything like that. But I can still type and fire a weapon with my other one.”

Alex's eyes darted around as more questions tumbled from his lips. They were in a bedroom somewhere. But where? And who was Carla?

“Lone Star's sister,” Mallory said, recognizing his confusion. “This is her house. She's his secret contact in the city. Really secret. I don't even think Lux knew she existed until Lone Star was directing us to the van. He was afraid that Phantom or someone might be able to track us if we went to the tunnel. . . .”

The mention of Phantom's name derailed the sentence, and Mallory trailed off, unsure of what to say. Alex's breath got heavy and fast.

“Where's everyone else?” he asked.

“Downstairs,” Gage said.

“Is anyone else hurt?”

“Not physically. But I think Lone Star's ego is more than a little bruised.”

“We're on the far east side of the city,” Mallory said. “Suburbia. We managed to slip out unnoticed. With all the chaos, no one was able to follow us.”

“The cut on your face opened up again,” Gage said. “We'll need to clean it.”

Alex raised a hand to his cheek. “I don't feel it.”

“You're in shock, Alex.”

The word “shock” only made Alex think of his father's purple electricity, then the High Council, then the now-vacant seat at the head of the table where Phantom always liked to sit in the War Room of the underground base. He shivered as a chill ran up and down his body.

“Phantom is dead,” Alex said. His voice had no emotion attached to it. He didn't even know what he was supposed to be feeling.

Gage and Mallory stared at him, both silent. Finally Mallory spoke.

“Then that feeling in my palm—our marks are really gone.”

“She's dead because of me,” Alex said, staring past them. “It's my fault.” Even as he spoke the words, he wasn't sure he was saying them loud enough for anyone to hear. Everything felt fuzzy. All he could think was that he'd finally lived up to his potential as a killer, as a weapon. What must his parents have been thinking at that moment? Was his mother proud?

“It was an accident,” Mallory said. “You can't blame yourself.”

“Their response to this will be brutal. They'll go insane.”

“We can't go back to the lake house.” Mallory shook her head slowly. “Shade's going to rip apart Photon's head trying to find us.”

“I can't even check in on the cameras and alarms,” Gage said. “My electronic tablet was damaged while I was fighting against Legion and his clones.”

“Gage, what about the Gloom Key?” Alex asked. “It's still there, right?”

“Hidden in a cooler in the rafters of the garage. But honestly, if your Cloak marks disappeared, I don't even know if it's functioning now. It ran on Phantom's energy.”

“All our notes,” Alex said. “All our stuff.”

“I guess we can officially say that rescuing the Rangers was not the answer to any of our problems,” Mallory murmured. “Everything's gone wrong.”

“It's going to get worse. What do we know about the Guild of Daggers?”

Gage and Mallory both looked puzzled.

“The who?” Mallory asked. “Wait, aren't they—”

“The group that Cloak was visiting when we snuck into the underground base to steal the components to the Gloom Key,” Gage said, picking up on her thought. “They're some sort of organized crime syndicate in New York. Not as old or powerful as Cloak, but just as secretive. I think there are a few superpowers between them, but they're mostly mob and Mafia families. I only know that because of information I picked up here and there at the base. Why?”

“Cloak is working with them on something.”

“On what?” Mallory asked.

“I don't know,” Alex said, rubbing his temples. “Weapons and plans. Once they have the city, they're going to take over the rest of the country. We were talking right at the end, right before everything went terrible and I . . .”

He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Phantom's death has severely hindered Cloak's ability to move around,” Gage offered. “Not to mention it's severed their connection to the Gloom. Really, this is a key strategic victory.”

Gage stopped talking when he realized that nothing he was saying was helping.

Alex felt sick.

“Bathroom?” he asked, getting to his feet.

Mallory pointed to the door. “Take a right. It's the first door on the left.”

He rushed out, a little wobbly on his feet, and found himself in an open den with a staircase leading down on one side. A few steps later he was in the bathroom, where he fumbled with the light switch. He didn't throw up, but his body and head hurt. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his face underneath the faucet, letting cold water run over it.

When he finally calmed down a little, he wiped his face with his sleeve and stared into the mirror. His fingers traced the red cut that started on his cheek, just below his right eye, and disappeared into his wavy brown hair. His head was reeling. Scenes from the day kept flashing in his mind. He wanted to hit reset. He needed a do-over. And more than anything, he needed someone to tell him what to do. That things would be okay. That they had a plan.

For the first time since leaving Cloak, he unquestionably missed his parents. Not the ones who had trained him and had fought against him earlier that day, but the parents who smiled when he'd made them proud. The ones in the picture his father had given him on his twelfth birthday. That Volt and Shade were all grins. They were the parents who'd sat on the end of his bed at night and told him stories about the glory of his destiny and his ancestors. His thoughts went back to when he'd first developed his powers. He'd woken up—still just a Gamma, one of the unpowered children of Cloak—and discovered that his vision had been tinted blue. Freaking out, he'd made his way down to the bottom floor of the underground base where his parents lived, a place that normally he'd need to be escorted to or from. His mother had been unhappy that he'd broken the rules but had let him into their apartment. As he stammered, trying to explain to her that something was wrong with him, she'd tapped her fingernail against the side of her coffee mug, a sign of annoyance. Alex had stared at the mug, hating it as he spoke. And then suddenly, it sparked a bright blue and flew across the room, shattering against one of the walls.

Shade had looked shocked for only a few breaths before a smile spread wide across her face. She'd run to Alex, scooping him up in her arms and holding him tightly.

“My darling son,” she'd whispered into his hair. “You've finally gotten your powers. You're one of us.”

Alex had felt so safe and happy and proud.

In the bathroom, he tried to hold on to that feeling, that one good memory, but his thoughts insisted on straying. Kirbie pinned to the ground by Phantom's powers. Photon, Julie, and his mother all attacking at the same time. Gage's arm, snapped. An explosion of telekinetic power, and the slightest nudge of his thoughts to ensure that Julie rammed into Phantom. It was this last detail that caused his chest to tighten and clench. In the heat of battle, he'd directed the girl with all the spikes sticking out of her into his enemy to free his teammate.

He told himself over and over again as he stared into the mirror that Phantom's death had been an accident. He'd only meant to free Kirbie and hopefully escape with their lives. But there was a voice of doubt in the back of his head that kept asking questions he didn't have answers to. Had he thought that Julie would transform back to flesh and blood before hitting Phantom? Or maybe that Phantom would disappear or dodge? Or had he known in some horrible place within himself that sending Julie careening toward Phantom would result in injury, even death? It was only logical. It was an
obvious
risk. But he'd done it anyway.

He worried that he had not escaped the darkest parts of his past. That killing ran in his blood. He'd done what his mother had taunted him about not being able to do. Even if he blamed the attack on instinct, all that meant was that he couldn't trust his own nature. He couldn't trust
himself
.

He felt helpless.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Alex,” Gage said softly. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Alex lied.

“Misty's up. I think it would help if she saw you. I'm . . . I don't think I was helping when I talked to her.”

“Sure. I'll be out in just a second.”

Alex tried to compose himself as best he could. Misty needed him. The
team
needed him. Now more than ever. He had to put on a brave face for them. Things would only get worse from here. The Cloak Society would become vengeance incarnate.

The sound of sobbing could be heard from outside the bedroom door. Alex stopped. His heart sank. He knocked on the door. From inside there was shuffling, followed by some sniffles, then Misty's voice.

“Come in.”

Alex found Misty and Mallory sitting side by side on the end of the bed together. Mallory gave him a small smile as he entered, but Misty turned her face away. Even without a clear view of her, he could tell that she'd been crying. Her cheeks were all puffy and red.

Alex pulled a chair over and sat across from the two girls.

“Uh, so . . . ,” he began, “are you okay?” He felt stupid asking. Of course she wasn't.

Tears immediately began to fall from Misty's eyes. She pretended they weren't there, looking away from Alex. Her chin quivered a little.

“Misty . . . ,” Alex said, but the sound of his voice was apparently a trigger for her, and she fell back on the bed, burying her face into a pillow.

“She was a bad person.” Her voice was muffled. “But she was my aunt. I saw her all the time and now she's dead.”

Alex looked at Mallory, who shrugged back at him, not knowing what to do. Misty started crying harder. He thought about finding Kirbie, but he doubted that anything anyone could say to Misty would make her feel better at that moment. How was he supposed to know how to comfort her when he was barely able to comfort himself? They had never trained for this.

He looked around the room, exasperated, trying to find something, anything to console her with. His eyes landed on a stack of multicolored construction paper on a desk in the corner of the room. He used his powers to drift it over to them, until it was in his hands.

“Misty,” he said, “what kind of animal do you want?”

She sat up, confused at first. Then she understood.

“I don't care. Just something pretty.”

Alex stared down at the paper, pulling a few sheets into the air with his thoughts. Simultaneously, they all began to fold, and then suddenly there was a swan, and a crane, and a butterfly floating around Misty's head. But Alex didn't stop. Sheet after sheet flew into the air, creasing and folding and tucking. He racked his brain for every pattern he'd ever seen or used in his precision training with his mother. When he ran out of dragonflies and birds and pterodactyls, he switched to things that couldn't fly—frogs, giraffes, flowers, and stars. He kept folding and folding until there was no more paper. Only then did he really look up. All around the room origami shapes hung in the air. Dozens of them, floating and bobbing on little clouds of telekinetic power.

Misty smiled a little bit. She reached over to put her hand on Mallory's, then jumped.

“Mal, you're freezing.”

Mallory looked confused for a moment. Her eyes had been drifting among the paper designs.

“Oh, sorry,” Mallory said, little white puffs of breath accompanying her words. “I just got a little caught up in everything.”

There were tiny crystals of ice around her eyelashes, perfect frost flakes shimmering in the light. As she concentrated, they melted.