The Last Hero (Book 2): Rise of the Ultras (4 page)

I
wasn’t usually
the kind of guy who got pulled back in for detentions. But I figured after the love of my damned life just told me she was moving to Arizona in three weeks, a bit of slacking at school was just about justified.

I sat staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. I was supposed to be writing lines, but hell knew what Mrs. Porter asked me to write. Something about not curling up in a ball on the table and sobbing in class. Something about not shouting back at a teacher. Something about not storming out and making a scene.

Yeah. I’d made a bit of an ass of myself. But again, I figured I was well within my rights.

I looked up as I sat alone at the desk. Mrs. Porter was at the front of the class marking papers. I thought about asking her what lines she wanted me to write again, but knowing the way she was with me—and with everyone for that matter—it’d just further convince her to add an extra thousand, or something.

Funny really, the idea of lines. Do they actually work? What’s the point of etching those same words in, over and over? “I WILL HAND IN MY WORK ON TIME. I WILL NOT BE A DOUCHEYMCDOUCHEBAG.” Was that kind of medieval brainwashing even effective at all? I could be at home right now doing something productive with my life. Like actual work. Or actual douchey-mc-douchebaggery.

Or lying in bed and sulking about Ellicia breaking up with me. Yeah, that was more believable.

The class was silent. So too was the entire campus. I looked at my watch. Half five. I’d been here forty-five minutes just waiting for Mrs. Porter to tell me what she wanted me to do. I’d seen other students in detention finish up their punishments and leave way before me. I figured there must be some kind of law about this. Student rights, or something.

What was stopping me standing up and leaving this place?

What was stopping me transporting Mrs. Porter to the other side of the world and leaving her in the middle of the Gobi Desert?

I smirked at the thought. Probably the first time I’d smirked all afternoon.

“Something funny, Mr. Peters?”

I sighed. Trust her to catch the one time I slip up. Trust her. “No. Not really.”

“Not really?”

“It’s just…” I shook my head.

“No. Go on. You’ve started now. You can finish.”

I leaned back and figured I’d let it all out. After all, what else did I have to lose? “It’s this. These… these
stupid
lines. I mean, what’s the point? What am I actually learning here?”

Mrs. Porter glared at me, her expression unwavering.

“My girlfriend split up with me. Moving to Arizona in three weeks. Traveling to the other side of the
damned
world—”

“Not technically.”

“Yeah, well, just allow me this right now. She’s traveling miles away. And I’m not gonna see her again. Not… not like now. So there. That’s why I slipped up in class. That’s why I made a d… an idiot of myself. And I’m sorry, but right now I just wish I was back home so I could figure this stuff out.”

Mrs. Porter was silent for a few moments. I could practically hear the clockwork ticking away in her brain, trying to figure out how to best punish me for my outburst.

Weirdly, she didn’t punish me at all.

She closed her book, lowered her glasses and half-smiled.

“Young love is fickle. You’ll get over it. On your way.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Mrs. Porter, the biggest demon in this entire school, was letting me leave.

“Did I hear you right?”

“Kyle, I’m not the monster you think I am. I’m just doing my job, contrary to what you might think. Now go on. Shoot off. I’ve got a life to live too. And don’t break down in class again. Please. If you’re having trouble, you know where I am.”

That half-smile of hers actually became a smile.

I looked at the palms of my hands to check the lines hadn’t moved. This had to be some kind of weird dream.

I stood up. Gathered my bags and walked out of class. Every step I took to the door, I was convinced Mrs. Porter was going to stop me, call me back. That she’d just been pretending all along, and actually she wanted me to write out another nine-hundred pages of lines. I WILL NOT BREAK DOWN IN TEARS IN DEMON PORTER’S CLASS.

But she didn’t.

I left her class and walked down the corridor.

After hours, school always felt weird. Totally quiet, but if you focused enough, you could still sense the echoes of the students who’d pushed their way down the corridor in the days, who’d tripped on their laces and fallen down the stairs. But right now, it felt creepier than ever. More quiet than ever. It was dark outside. The fluorescent lights beamed down from above. As I walked past each and every empty classroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

I hopped down the stairs and kept my head down. Tried not to look inside the classrooms at the empty chairs, at the teachers’ seats, vacant, like some kind of weird old reconstruction museum. I felt a twinge of sickness in my stomach. A sudden urge to get out of this place. Like my body was telling me something was wrong.

Like Glacies was telling me something was wrong.

I walked over to the door and lowered the handle.

The door didn’t budge.

I froze for a few seconds. I could see the first specks of snow falling in the darkness outside. I went to turn the handle again. It sometimes got a bit sticky in winter.

But it wasn’t moving.

The door was locked.

Dread filled my body. The janitor must’ve locked this place up. Now I was gonna have to go back to Mrs. Porter and ask her for a way out. Or maybe this was part of her plan. Maybe she
wanted
me to find the door locked so I’d be forced to spend more time in this hellhole.

I turned around and saw someone standing at the top of the stairs.

It startled me, at first. Startled me because I didn’t recognize the figure. They were dressed in the same blue overalls that the janitor wore, but their face… it was different.

Paler. A more vacant look. Glasses wonky on his nose.

“Scuse—scuse me?” I said. “The door. It’s locked. I need to get outta here. Please.”

I realized how pathetic I sounded. I knew I sounded frightened. And it didn’t help that this janitor was standing up there all scarily, not saying a word back to me.

Just tilting his head, side to side, in a robotic manner.

I looked to my left. Another classroom. Maybe I could go in there and climb out of a window. Hell, I could use my ULTRA abilities to get through the door or the wall if I wanted to. But now the janitor was here, I’d definitely need to get out of sight before using them.

I went to walk into the classroom when I felt a presence right beside me.

When I turned, I saw the janitor raising his fist.

He swung it at me. And I didn’t even have time to react with my abilities. I went crashing back into the wall. Crashing back with immense force.

I slid to the floor. My back wrecked with pain. I tasted blood in my mouth from where I’d bit my tongue.

The janitor walked towards me again, in that robotic manner.

Lifted his fist.

I swung out of the way as quickly as I could. I spun into the air, dodged his—

Even though I jumped up using my super-speed, the janitor’s punch still connected with me.

Sent me hurtling through that classroom door, knocking all the chairs over in the process.

I lay back on the floor and watched as the janitor approached me. I knew right now something was wrong here. The janitor. He had strength. Serious strength. Way more strength than a normal person.

The janitor was an ULTRA?

There was another ULTRA in existence?

Even if he was, why was he…

The janitor lifted a chair and threw it at me.

I shifted it away before it hit my face. And despite the fear I felt at embracing Glacies, I was in danger right now. Self-Defense. I had to fight.

I swung out of the way of the second chair flying at me. Teleported behind the janitor, and as awkward as it felt, I cracked a punch towards his neck.

His hand swung back, his arm snapping in an impossible position. He grabbed my arm, then twisted me over to the floor.

I kicked out before I hit the ground and bounced back up towards him. I stuck both my fists together, knocked them into his chin.

But… shit!

I fell back down to the floor. My fists ached like mad.

The janitor stood over me. Stared down. My heart raced. He didn’t look like he was hurt. Didn’t even look like I’d scratched him.

He lifted another chair and I realized right then that I’d met my match.

That I only had one choice.

I felt the fear inside me. Felt it take over me.

The janitor swung the chair towards my face.

I lifted my hands and with all the strength I had, I fired a bolt of ice right into its face.

Something weird happened, then. Something even weirder than everything that’d already happened.

The janitor froze on the spot, not literally. But he just stopped, like he was malfunctioning.

He shook from side to side. His legs wobbled. He opened his mouth and closed it, smoke emitting from his ears.

And then he fell and hit the floor in a noisy thump.

I stood up. Waddled away from the janitor. I kept my eyes on him at all times. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight.

“What… what are you?” I asked.

The janitor let out a shriek of laughter. But it was laughter that didn’t sound like it belonged to this man. He looked too frail to make that laughter—as much as I knew he wasn’t frail. Like it was someone else laughing through him.

“You don’t understand,” the janitor said, the voice sounding as if it came from somewhere deep inside him. “But you will. You will.”

A buzzing noise spurted from the janitor’s mouth.

Electricity crackled across his body.

And then he went still.

I stood and stared at the chaos and the destruction in the classroom and tried to figure out what’d happened.

He was right. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand in the slightest.

But he was right about something else, too.

Soon, I would.

Very soon.

“
I
mean
, man, did she throw a punch at you or somethin’? Never really had her down as the fighter type.”

I sat in Pazza Notte opposite Damon. It was usually way out of our price range, and we didn’t tend to go to posh restaurants—unless McDonalds counted. But we’d got some vouchers at school so Damon insisted we went and made ourselves look extra posh. Besides, what else was I gonna do? I didn’t have Ellicia to see anymore.

The chatter around the restaurant blurred around me. I heard glasses clinking together, the laughter of men and women as they enjoyed their dates. The smell of the pizza cooking didn’t make me want to eat it, as much as I loved pizza. Even the friendliness of the staff annoyed me.

I was trapped in a rut. And not just because Ellicia was moving to Arizona in three weeks.

But also because of what happened with that weird robot-y janitor yesterday afternoon.

It was Saturday now, so I hadn’t really had much chance to talk about it with anyone. And I wouldn’t get a chance either. When I got myself back home, I lay in bed and thought about what I was going to do, playing over events. If that janitor were found lying there, then surely the school would find a way to trace it back to me, and then my powers would be blown. I was stupid. I’d used Glacies’ powers without even having my costume on. I’d risked exposing my entire identity, my entire life.

So I’d gone back there. Gone back to take the janitor away somewhere. To hide him, or something.

Weird thing happened when I got back.

The janitor was gone.

The classroom was completely tidy and in order.

The door was a bit loose on the hinges, sure. But not enough to attract any real attention.

“You even listening to me?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as well as I could. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“That bruise under your eye. How the hell’d you get that?”

I didn’t know what Damon was talking about until I caught a glimpse of my reflection on my phone screen. “Shit,” I said.

“What happened?”

Damn. I must’ve been so caught up with everything that’d been going on that I’d forgotten to heal myself properly. “Just, um… just fell down the stairs.”

“Fell down the stairs? What are you, ninety?”

“I was carrying something hot and I slipped, okay?”

Damon shrugged. Took a sip of his Coca-Cola. “I’m just sayin’. If Ellicia’s the violent type, maybe you wanna report that shit.”

I shook my head. “She’s not the violent type. Far from it.”

“Well she broke your damned heart. Far as I can tell, that’s a pretty violent thing to do.”

I leaned back in my chair and waited for our meal to arrive. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be back home on my own. But I knew deep down that I couldn’t mope. I had to see my friends. If anyone could put a smile on my face, it was Damon.

Just wasn’t doing the best job right now.

“I can’t feel angry at her,” I said. “No matter how hard I try. ’Cause it’s not
her
fault.”

“The bruise under your eye isn’t her fault?”

“No, the move. The move isn’t her fault.”

“Oh,” Damon said, chewing on a piece of the bread put out for an appetizer. “Yeah, well, it’s like I say. These things come and go in waves.”

“What does that even mean?”

Damon shrugged, his mouth stuffed with bread. “You know. We’re gettin’ older. You two’ve had your time together. Maybe it’s time you found someone new.”

The thought of finding someone new made me feel even sicker than the thought of that janitor ULTRA that attacked me in school. Ellicia was part of the reason I felt so much better about myself these days. She was the goal, the benchmark, and I’d reached her.

Only the benchmark had snapped, and I didn’t know what the goal was anymore. My whole life was crumbling around me. A life I’d been determined to hold on to. A life I wasn’t letting go—a life I was
choosing
over a life full-time as Glacies.

What was the point anymore?

What was the point in Kyle Peters if Ellicia wasn’t at the end of it?

“Your mains, gents,” the waiter said. He put down two enormous pizzas in front of us. They looked delicious, sure, and I saw Damon’s greedy eyes widen. But the last thing I wanted to do was eat right now.

“I, er, I think I’ll head to the…”

It was at that point that I saw a woman standing over by the bar. She was older than me, probably in her early twenties. She had chocolate brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, an intoxicating combination. She was looking right into my eyes as she held on to her cocktail, smiling.

I looked away, blushing. Damon had a whole slice of pizza wedged in his mouth.

“Wha-uh?” he asked, unable to speak for the food.

I swallowed a lump in my dry throat and turned around to look at the bar.

I couldn’t see the woman anymore.

I stood up. Headed to the restroom. When I got inside there, I couldn’t believe the bruise under my eye. It looked like I’d been in some kind of brawl, or taken a beating. Which I had, technically. Silly of me not to cover it up. Foolish of me not to—

“You want to get some cream on that,” a voice said.

I turned around and saw the woman from the bar standing by the entrance to the men’s room. She was tall. Taller than I’d realized when I saw her from a distance. She had something about her, as she stood there in that long black dress. Like she had a presence in the room just by standing there.

“I, um, this is the men’s,” I said.

She smiled. Walked towards me. “Oh, I know.”

I wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. I dried my hands on some paper towels, and then I stepped outside the restroom.

When I reached the door, I felt a hand on my back.

And then the woman pulled me back into the restroom.

Pulled me with serious force.

She slapped me. Slapped me hard across my face. The flirtatious, intoxicating look was gone from her face now. She looked mad. Angry.

In fact, she looked… completely different.

Fiery red hair.

Dark eyes.

Pale skin.

Shorter.

“You need to step the shit up, Glacies,” she said, her voice deeper.

When she said my name, I felt my gut turn. “How—”

“There’s a storm coming. And we need you there when it arrives. We need your help.”

I wanted to tell this woman I didn’t understand what she was saying. That I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

But then I remembered the janitor. The robotic mannerisms. The way he’d fallen and malfunctioned like he was nothing more than a machine.

“You’ve seen it,” the woman said, shifting back to her former self. I knew at this point that she was an ULTRA. She had to be. “I know you’ve seen it. And you’re afraid. That’s natural. So you should be.”

I backed away from the woman. Her perfume was so strong that it felt like it was luring me in.

She leaned into my ear. “You need to be Glacies. You need to stop fighting. Because soon, you won’t have a choice.”

I wanted to ask her what she was talking about. What she needed me to do.

And then the restroom door peeked open.

The first person I saw was Damon, grinning at me like he always did when he thought he was surprising me in a good way.

But then I saw the person beside him.

I saw the look of shock on her face, as this woman held on to me, leaned in.

“Ellicia?”

She went red. Bright red. Even Damon’s jaw dropped.

“That’s it,” Ellicia said, her jaw shaking. She turned around, started to walk away.

“Wait!”

“That’s it!”

I listened to Ellicia walk away. Damon stayed there, gawping at the pair of us in the restroom.

“I’ll, um,” he said, pointing in Ellicia’s direction.

He checked out the woman holding on to me and then he scooted off, leaving the restroom door to close.

Before the door closed properly, he looked back at me, stuck his thumbs up and winked.

The woman’s eyes sparkled. She smiled at me, flirtatiously, or how I imagined flirtatiousness looked. “She’s just a girl, anyway. What you need is a woman. Seeing as you’re a big, strong man really.”

I shook my head. “Who are you?”

“I call myself Angel,” the woman said. “And you know my associates. And we know you too. Very well.”

Angel. Associates who knew me well. What was this? What was any of this?

“You need to give up this life. It’s only going to cause more chaos. More pain.” She was speaking more reasonably now. More to the point after her display earlier. “Trust me. I’ve been there. All of us have.”

I thought about what she was saying. About how I had to give up my normal life because something was off. Something
was
wrong; I knew that.

But I wasn’t giving anything up.

I wasn’t letting me and Ellicia end like this.

I pushed past Angel. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“I haven’t, Glacies. I haven’t got the—”

“Just leave me alone, okay?”

My shout was so loud that the entire restaurant looked around as I walked through the restroom door.

Angel looked back at me through the swinging door, a sad smile on her face. “Okay,” she said, her image shifting every time the door swung back and forth. “But you’ll regret it. You’ll regret not taking my advice when the day comes. And that day will come very soon.”

I watched the door swing again, watching Angel’s appearance change once more.

When the door swung a final time, Angel was gone.