“You don’t want to do this.”
“Shut up, Evan. You have no idea what I want.”
“You want immediate satisfaction of your evil compulsions.” His fingers turn white on the metal sign as I pull against his two hands with my one good hand. His voice lowers so that only I can hear. “Killing her will not bring your mom back to life. Nor Pepper. It will not heal your dad and it will never repair the damage she has inflicted on you.”
I sigh. “I never said it would.”
“You don’t have to do this. You can choose, Maci. Good and evil are in your veins. Which are you?”
My only reply is a furious shake of my head as I watch Aurora struggle to breathe against the blood pouring from her neck that won’t heal because my blade is stuck between her skin. Her eyes are weak with fear, her mouth twisted in pain.
“Do it,” she whispers with a jagged smile. “Kill me.”
My fingers itch to force the blade through the rest of her neck, to feel the crack of her spinal cord, and see her horrible head roll away from her body. Pure satisfaction ripples through me at the mere thought of it. She deserves it.
Evan’s grip gradually eases as he lifts one finger at a time off the sign. At first I think he’s giving me permission to slice her head off, and so does Max since he reacts by trying to pull me away. Evan stops him with a hand on his chest. “It’s her choice.”
“You’re kidding me,” Max says. “You aren’t a Hero. Stay out of Hero business.”
“Neither is she,” Evan growls in what is the first time I’ve ever seen someone stand up to Max. “This is her choice, in front of all these witnesses. They already consider her evil. This is her chance to prove what she is. Good or evil.” He turns to me. “It’s your call, Maci.”
Well, shit. When he puts it that way … I don’t want to be seen as evil. My subconscious wrestles with indecision as Aurora lies helpless underneath the weight of my choice.
The cool metal of my ring presses against my palm. What do I do?
I care about you, Maci. But I can’t make your choice for you.
Aurora deserves to die for what she’s done.
That’s true. But you don’t.
Examiner Lucy watches me from across the room, her arms crossed in front of her chest and the snobbiest look of vindication on her face. She is only one of the dozens of witnesses that will see what I do. My enemies will be proven right and my friends will become enemies. All the satisfaction in the world won’t replace a lifetime of being fully depowered for my crime. Pepper wouldn’t want me to avenge his death.
He’d want me to put his Hero suit to good use.
I toss the sign to the floor and stand. A collective ease of power fills the room. But I’m not doing this for everyone else. I’m doing it for Pepper. For Mom. For Dad.
For me.
Aurora’s flesh binds together and she sucks in a deep breath. “You don’t deserve an easy death,” I tell her as I step aside and make room for three Retrievers to restrain her. “Your punishment is to live with what you’ve done.”
My hospital room smells like rose petals and Winterfresh Mountain Spring. Evan must have sprayed some of his body spray on the flowers he had delivered as some kind of stupid joke. At least, I hope it was a joke.
Around two dozen bouquets, some in vases and some in wicker baskets with one attached to a huge teddy bear, litter my small room. The medical staff hasn’t allowed any visitation in the three days I’ve been under their care, but they do allow deliveries of tacky stuffed animals and flowers that wilt and droop after only few days.
Because flowers cheer me up way more than my friends do, obviously.
My clever an
d insanely smart Evan found a way around the no-contact rule. The flowers he sends me a few times a day are just a disguise for his handwritten note on the underside of the delivery card. I’d consider his sneaky contraband delivery a genius move if he had anything good to say.
I reach inside my pillowcase with my left hand, straining to keep my right bandaged arm on the other pillow beside me. I retrieve the seven pieces of cardstock that all say To: Maci, From: Evan in fancy calligraphy on the front. That was the work of the florist, not Evan. His chicken-scratch handwriting has me squinting to make out the words on the back as I read the cards again.
Lockdown is lifted, but security is on high alert. I’m not allowed to take a KAPOW out of Central. Staying with Max. Miss you.
Hugo Havoc gave a speech about you and President Might. Candlelit vigil and everything. Hope you’re well. Miss you tons.
I have nothing to say. Just thought you’d like some daisies. Daisies symbolize healing. So, heal. (PS – Yup, still missing you. Just not the sarcasm. Or the snoring.)