Shades of Gray (19 page)

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout, mate,” Luster said, all bullshit charm and smarm. The man hunkered down on his haunches as Night did his push-ups. “Need a spotter?”

“For push-ups? Not likely.”

“For the barbell.”

“No need.”

“You haven’t done your free weights yet,” Luster said, with that I-Know-Everything tone in his voice. “You’re like clockwork, you are, and more regular than an old lady on her fiber pills. First you put in your run, then floor work, and last is free weights. And then you do some sparring, if anyone’s feeling particularly like getting pulped into next week.”

“You want something, Luster?”

“Right you are,” he agreed after a pause. Pitching his voice low, he said, “I want your thoughts on our brother-in-arms.”

Night arched an eyebrow.

“More to the point, on
your
brother in Shadow.”

Midpush, Night paused. “What about him?”

“That episode he had, a while back? You know, the one that sent him to Medical for a few days?” Luster lowered his voice even more. “He didn’t just get dizzy, mate. He’d been raging. Ranting like an insane man. You should’ve seen him. In that moment, he wasn’t our Georgie-boy.”

“So what?” Night said, his voice a verbal shrug even as his mind was whirling. He had to play this carefully. Night knew that behind Luster’s brilliant smile were shark’s teeth. “We all get enraged now and then.”

“If it was just that, I’d shrug it off as an adrenaline surge.” Now Luster paused, as if considering his words.

Night pushed up to a seated position and waited, schooling his face to blandness.

“His eyes, man. You should have seen his eyes.” Bradford’s voice was whisper soft, and full of the terror known by small children who wait in the dark for the monsters to steal out of their closets. “They were full of Shadows.”

Silently, Night cursed.

“He said things too. He begged me to make them stop. Said he always hears them. That he can’t keep fighting.” Luster stared hard at Night, his gaze penetrating. “What the hell was he talking about?”

Night shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, modulating his voice for the perfect blend of honesty and concern. “Did you … did you tell Dr. Moore?”

“George warned me not to spill the beans.” Luster snorted. “Like I’d say anything to Moore. Bloody mad-scientist wannabe. But don’t you get it? That was our Georgie, threatening me. And just today, he was commenting about voices in his head.”

Night blew out a breath. He hadn’t known Blackout had succumbed to the Shadow in front of Luster. Damn it. It was a saving grace that Bradford had been so distracted with seducing Vixen that he hadn’t focused on Blackout before now. Clearly, that free pass had expired.

He ran a hand through his hair, raking it away from his face. How to play this? Anything that he said about Blackout, Luster would obviously wonder whether Night, too, was walking a razor’s edge.

And that was scrutiny Night couldn’t allow.

Part of him wished he could. In his own way, Night respected Luster, and he admired the man for being concerned about a teammate. But there was no way on Jehovah’s scorched earth that he was going to tell Bradford, or anyone, the truth about the Shadow. Not about the voices he constantly kept at bay.

Not about the struggle to hold on to his sanity.

So he made himself believe his own words as he said, “It sounds like it was a combination of exertion and stress, making his power twitchy. He had time off after that incident, if I recall. And then he was fine, right? That’s probably all he needed: a bit of rest.”

“Probably,” Luster said slowly. “You’re not convinced?”

“Mostly. But just in case there’s something more here … well. You and I, we’ll keep our eye on him. We’ll make sure he’s in full control of his power. He has been, before and after that one time. I’m sure George is fine, but it’s good for all of us if we’re diligent.” He smiled grimly. “I’m glad you mentioned this. Try not to worry. As I said, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Luster nodded. “Rick, if he’s not … then is George a danger? To himself? To Holly?”

“As much as any extrahuman would be a danger.” Then Night chuckled, and even clapped Luster on the shoulder. “You see yourself blinding Vixen on your off days?”

Bradford laughed. “Right. The woman would hand me my own arse if I even tried to lay a hand on her in violence.”

“There you go. We’ll watch, just in case.” Night smiled again, and this time, it touched his eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

They were all assembled in the main assembly of Squadron headquarters, Teams Alpha through Epsilon, standing at ease as Corp’s latest suit assigned to the extrahumans explained what the latest technological marvel was, how it was guaranteed to make their jobs and lives that much easier. The New Chicago branch should be proud, they were told, because they’d been selected to beta-test the new gadget. That it only made sense for New Chicago—home of Corp global headquarters and R&D—to field-test it wasn’t brought up.

Night stood stoically, counting the seconds until the meeting was over. He was itching to go on patrol, to wrap Shadows around criminals intent on preying on the innocent.

It was a rush whenever he used Shadow in battle.

“So you see,” the suit said happily, “the comlink will put you in touch directly with Operations, in real time. Completely wireless, each with its own unique frequency so that you won’t get stuck on a party line, nor will you have to wait your turn to speak to a free Ops controller. You won’t be reliant on your hover consoles, or on handheld devices that aren’t always conducive to battle conditions. Hard to throw a punch when you’re trying to connect to Ops.”

A few laughs from that comment. Night didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close call.

Next to the suit, a Runner was displaying a white earpiece that looked distinctly like a slug.

The suit went on with the hard sell. “Designed to fit snugly in your ear canal, you’ll have a constant stream of data from Ops.”

“Sounds like it’ll be an overload of information,” one of the heroes called out.

“You’ll be able to moderate it, of course.” The suit laughed. “You’ll be the one requesting information from Ops, and Ops will get you the data you need directly—whether you’re requesting new equipment or a Runner to be dispatched, or if you need eyes and ears for an upcoming situation.”

“Where is this Ops controller going to be?”

“Ops will be centered in the Academy, right here in New Chicago. Close to your headquarters, close to the Executive Committee, and readily available and in service to all heroes. Over the next few years, Ops will be for all of the United and Canadian States Squadron. But for now, it’s all yours.”

“I don’t fancy having someone yammering at me all the time.” That was Luster. “How’m I supposed to think if there’s a little voice in my head, telling me what to do?”

Night’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Of course, it will take some adjustment,” the suit said. “But once you’re used to having Ops at your beck and call, you’ll wonder how you did your jobs before. Corp wouldn’t have sponsored this technology, let alone given its seal of approval, if we didn’t believe this would be a powerful tool in your arsenal. Try it,” he said like a parent coaxing a toddler to eat. “You might like it.”

“Just what we need,” Blackout murmured. “More voices.”

In a rare burst of humor, Night said, “But this is the
good
kind of crazy.” And he and Blackout chuckled.

One by one, Runners handed out the comlinks to the extrahuman heroes. Night and the others fiddled with the devices, getting them to sit in their ears just so.

“One of the best things about the comlinks,” said the suit, “is when you’re not tapped into Ops, the device remains on in a default white-noise setting. Completely unobtrusive, and designed to be both a concentration aid and, when you’re not out in the field, something to help you relax.” He tittered laughter. “It’s come to our attention that some of you are a tad high-strung.”

More laughter from the heroes.

“Go ahead,” the suit said happily. “Turn them on. Tap once for white noise, twice to link into Ops.”

Sighing in resignation, Night tapped his device and heard the comforting rush of a waterfall.

In the back of his mind, the place where the Shadow constantly clawed and whispered and giggled, things … quieted.

Night’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft gasp.

Next to him, Blackout trembled. “Rick? Do you hear it? The silence?”

Elated, Night nodded. A smile bloomed on his face as he listened to the joyous sounds of Shadow-free white noise. And he thought that maybe, just maybe, the comlink was the answer to prayers he’d long since forgotten.

CHAPTER 22

VIXEN

We put safeguards in place to monitor the children. Puberty is often the trigger, although sometimes the abilities manifest earlier. My silent partners are very interested.

—Matthew Icarus, diary entry, undated

L
uv?” Lester knocked on the bathroom door, which just made Valerie’s head hurt more. “Luv, what’s the matter?”

Valerie reached up from her hunched position and waved a hand in front of the flush sensor for the toilet. “I’m fine,” she croaked. “I must’ve eaten something bad at that City Hall banquet last night.”

“That, or you took Mayor Fujikawa’s speech to heart.” The door rolled back, revealing Lester in torn jeans and a T-shirt for some obscure twentieth-century band called The Who. “I swear, I’ve never met such a man for banging on about absolutely nothing.”

“That’s your sponsor you’re slagging off.” After a year of living with Lester, Valerie’s American English was peppered with Britishisms, much to the dismay of Corp and her sponsor.

The thought of her sponsor made her stomach buck again and she lunged for the toilet. “Oh, Jehovah …” Her voice cut off as a fresh wave of vomit spewed out.

“My sponsor can take a fast hoverbike to hell,” Lester said quietly, holding her hair out of the way. “Luv, really. Do you need to visit Medical?”

“No,” Valerie insisted. “It’s either food poisoning, or PMS. I get nausea sometimes at this part of the month …”

Though she hadn’t last month … oh.

Oh boy.

“Les?” she said, as he dabbed a cool washcloth on the back of her neck. She found herself incapable of looking anywhere except the white and blue tile floor of her and Lester’s shared quarters. That had been a media coup—the darlings of New Chicago, shacking up.

“What’s wrong, Vals?” His face furrowed with concern. “You going to keel over? Feeling dizzy?”

“I, uh.” Valerie straightened her spine. She’d faced worse situations than this. Though probably not more awkward.

“Les, I don’t think it was something I ate,” she said. “I just realized it’s been two months.”

“You’ve been nauseous for two months? Don’t tell me it’s my company, darling.”

“No, Les. It’s been two months since I last got my period.”

Lester’s eyes went wide, like he’d just spotted a hoverbike about to fall on his head.

Jehovah, why me?
Valerie thought. Angelica and Blackout should be the ones about to embrace parenthood. Not her, awkward too-tall Valerie Vincent, who was still Valerie Vincent, for Christo’s sake, and not even Valerie Bradford. Her mother would have dropped dead on the spot.

“You’re pregnant?” Lester’s touch became warm as his power surged from emotional backdraft.

“Well, I’d have to get a test and make sure I counted right and go talk to a doctor in Medical and …” Valerie realized she was babbling and bit her lip. “Yes. I don’t see what else it could be.”

She’d never had to have the bun-in-the-food-unit talk with a man before, so she wasn’t sure what she expected. Maybe yelling, or accusations of cheating, or cold denial. For herself, she felt strangely calm.
I’m pregnant.
No panic at that.
I’m pregnant with Lester’s child.
Valerie felt herself smile a bit, hiding her face because she knew Lester was about to explode, get angry, ruin this moment of perfect peace …

Lester grabbed her and held her so tightly her air whistled out. “Valerie,” he whispered against her hair. “Valerie, Valerie. Valentine. You’ve made me the happiest bloke on the bloody earth.”

“Really?” Valerie said. It came out more like “Krumph,” muffled as she was against Lester’s chest.

“We’ll be a real family,” Lester said. “The three of us. And it’ll be a girl, so I can spoil her rotten.”

Valerie put her arms around him—carefully, because her own powers were feeling a little unstable with the swell of emotion in her chest. “Or a boy, who’ll be just as big a pain in my ass as you.”

“Quite.” She felt him smile. “Of course, now I’m going to have to marry you properly. Care to guess what our wedding photos will bring in?”

“Lester Bradford, are you proposing to me? Here? Now?”

“Bloody right.” He helped her up and sat her on the lip of the tub, then knelt down before her. “Valerie Edwina Vincent …”

“You wanker. You know I hate my middle name.”

“Valerie
EDWINA
Vincent, light of my life, mother of my child. Marry me.”

Valerie had to smile. Lester looked so serious, kneeling on the bath rug with his arm spread theatrically.

“Well?” he said, winking at her.

She nudged him with her toe. “Like you even have to ask.”

Once the initial thrill wore off, pregnancy, Valerie found, was the most boring condition on Jehovah’s scorched earth. At least she’d stopped puking once she’d hit her second trimester.

She watched Lester suit up from her position on the chaise, with a pillow under her feet, swelled to roughly twice their normal size. To think she had at least three more months of this. “I wish I was coming with you.”

“Yes, dazzle them with your pregnant tummy. That’d do wonders.”

Valerie threw a shoe at her husband. He ducked it. “Seriously, Les. I’m so bored I could chew the plastipaint off the walls. All I have to look forward to today is another exam, then a birth class. Me, Krakatoa, and Prismatic. All pregnant. In a class run by a suit.”