Scarred

Whatever. Harriet could have the last word if it made her feel good. So long as she left Glimmer alone.

But her taunt—everyone knows you want him for yourself—coated my skin like the guilty stink of a sewer.

I scratched my forearms, irritated. It wasn't true. He was my best friend. I was just looking out for him. Anything else was bullshit. Besides, we all needed to get back to fighting villains—which meant we wanted Glimmer to get on with rewriting his algorithms and fixing his hardware config and praying to the geekboy gods of the dark net. Not wasting time avoiding the advances of an oversexed teenage drama queen.

And even if what she'd said were true—which it wasn't—even if in some twisted mirror universe, I might occasionally wonder what it'd be like to bathe in that delicious vanilla-spice scent, wrap my hands in his glossy hair and pull his mouth to mine—which I didn't—it was still bullshit.

Because he was Glimmer, the white knight. Gallant, courageous, everyone's idea of a hero. I, on the other hand, had murdered innocents. Used my power selfishly. Tried to poison the city to impress a power-crazed maniac.

Glimmer was… well, he was Glimmer. And I was me.

What the fuck ever.

But my bones shivered with delightful dread, and I swallowed warm brine. It wasn't embarrassment that Harriet had caught me looking. It wasn't even that Glimmer was so far above me that the idea of us together like that was so ridiculous, it bruised some hidden soft spot deep in my heart.

It was what Vincent might say if he got even a whiff that I might be looking sideways at another man. The things he might do to me. Oh, my. All those breathless, exquisite, excruciating punishments…

I cursed, sweating. Jeez. And if that didn't just prove my point. There was my Vincent, and then there was normality, the world where he was our archenemy and deserved to die. For my sanity's sake, I had to keep the two sides separated.

I rapped two knuckles on Glimmer's door and walked in without waiting for permission. The lights were on—make that light, a single bluish bulb on a cord. My gaze glued itself to that swinging bulb, back-forth, back-forth…

Memories swamped me, that horrid metal chair cutting into the backs of my thighs, that piss-stinking hospital gown, that weighty augmentium helmet bolted around my skull. Electroshock, muscles jerking, fingers clenching and unclenching, the brown stench of singed hair…

I shook myself, dizzy. Was this even my old cell? No clue. No need to freak out.

The museum's fuzzy security footage played on the largest of four computer screens. And my boys: Glimmer, munching on an apple, a long lean shadow in his chair, one foot on the desk; and Adonis, slouching on the cluttered bed, back against the peeling brick wall.

My brother beckoned me in. "About time."

"Shit, did I miss the trailers? Shove over. Where's the popcorn?" I squeezed my butt in beside Ad and peeled my banana, waving it in his direction. Glimmer snickered.

"Gross." Ad made a face. "You really gonna eat that?"

"Bananas are a superfood. It said so on the internet." On the screen, my ex-boyfriend Sparkly—Espectro—was doing his glass-smashing thing, the stolen rock in his bleeding fist.

"Red wine is a superfood," Adonis said. "Smoked oysters in barbecue sauce are a superfood. Bananas are fucking fungus in disguise… Oh, nice trick," he added, nodding at the screen. "Okay, who the hell are these two…? Holy shit. Where'd they go? What's that, a lightbend?"

"Mwash 'gain," I suggested, stuffing my mouth with overripe banana.

"Jesus, Vee, how old are you?"

I swallowed, and burped. "Watch again," I repeated. "Look at the glass splinters on the floor, from the broken display case."

Glimmer skipped the footage back to the instant before the two teen villains vanished. Paused. Played it again in frame-by-frame slow-mo.

One frame, there they were. The next, an elongated blur across the screen, from left to right. Then, gone… and where they'd been standing, the glass debris scattered and swirled into a tiny spiral, as if caught in a little two-teen tornado.

"The air moved inwards." Adonis spoke slowly, trying to take it in. "It's a forcebend… are you telling me they teleported?"

I mimed pulling a pistol trigger. "Watch 'em and weep."

"Both of them?" Adonis clicked his tongue. "I'm impressed."

Glimmer teetered his chair on two legs. "The blue-haired one is Sophron. The boy is Flash. Pretty much all we know so far." He didn't mention where he'd learned that little tidbit, God love him. Didn't prompt Adonis to ask how I knew.

"Gallery?"

Glimmer shrugged. "Seems reasonable."

"Or not," I argued. "Doesn't seem right to me. Why sabotage Espectro's heist, if they're all working for the same outfit?"

"Rivals?" Glimmer suggested. "Fighting over the loot to impress the big man. Who knows what the hell Gallery clowns do for kicks these days? Maybe whoever menaces the most rent-a-cops each month wins a set of steak knives."

Adonis snorted. "Or they're just crazy assholes. These people don't need reasons. And if they're not Gallery, who are they?"

"Well, I think they're something new." I flipped my banana peel at the bin, and missed.

Glimmer binned it for me. "You are so lame. If I were telekinetic, I'd at least make sure I could hit the side of a barn."

"Gee, thanks, Mom." But Vincent's words tickled my memory, persuasive. That girl'sno child of mine.

In my stomach, the blind worms of my foolishness writhed and stretched their little mouths. I knew it was stupid. God knows, I'd fallen for Vincent's line of bullshit before. I should forget it. Move on.

But I couldn't silence this muttering itch at the back of my brain. The suspicion that while Vincent might lie to beat the devil when he chose? He hadn't lied about this.

And that wasn't just my dark fascination talking. No, what clinched it was the snark about the clothes and the bad hair. Razorfire wouldn't stand for that, not in his house. An issue of style. Even saber-toothed Iceclaw in his greasy leather duds, or snickering Weasel with his scraggly moustaches and rodent incisors: they owned a kind of sicko villain's panache. Sophron and Flash were just… scruffy. Unwashed.

Vulgar.

Not his type at all.

From the way they work together, I'd say they're old friends… It's no fun if I give you all the answers… Wasting tricks like those, just to re-home an overpriced rock…

Adonis shoved me, and I nearly fell off the bed. "Whah?"

"There's no audio," Ad repeated, impatient. "What did Sophron say to you, a few frames back?"

"Right after she whipped my ass?" I mocked her whining tones. "'Too slow, hero'. Just getting her gloat on. Listen, what is that rock, anyway?"

"Was wondering that." Glimmer flicked up a fresh browser window showing an art auctioneer's website. "Lot seven-two-nine, 'trans-state granite artifact', whatever that means. Purchased by the museum in an auction… let's see. Nine months ago, for a six-figure sum."

"From who?" Adonis and I spoke together.

Glimmer zoomed in on the text.

"Fortune Corporation?" I snorted. "Dad owned a six-figure rock? Please."

Adonis looked as mystified as I. "So whatever it is, we sold it while Equity was in charge. What the hell does 'trans-state' mean? You sure it's just a rock?"