Ten years later, when Teia and Lew were nine, Morgan was killed fighting a fire. The unit had been trying to keep a convenience store fire from spreading to neighboring buildings, and a hidden propane tank exploded and caught him in a wall of flying debris. He’d died instantly. After, Celia did everything she could to keep Analise in one piece; it hadn’t been easy. Arthur and Suzanne and the girls invited Teia and Lew to the penthouse for sleepovers, while Celia sat on Analise’s sofa, holding her friend while she cried and cried. Everything had been perfect there, for a little while, and now it wasn’t, and would it ever be again? Well, maybe not. But things got better. You moved on because you had to, because you had kids and they needed to see you strong. Celia didn’t talk much. Just held Analise, as best she could.
“Typhoon could have saved him,” Analise sobbed the first night after the accident, curled up, barely responding to Celia’s grip on her. “She should have been there, she could have saved him.”
Except that was wrong, because Celia had read the medical examiner’s initial report, and the fire hadn’t killed Morgan, the explosion had. All Typhoon’s rainstorms, all her floods and waves, however quickly she might have put out the fire if she had been there, Analise still couldn’t have guaranteed saving him from the blast. But Celia didn’t try to tell her that.
The what-ifs went on forever, and your rational brain might try to shut them down, but your heart kept dwelling on the future that might have happened if you’d been a little faster, if you’d gotten free more quickly, if you’d sabotaged Mayor Paulson’s apocalyptic weapon just five minutes sooner, so it had exploded and killed you before Captain Olympus arrived and shielded you, at the cost of his own life …
Analise collected Morgan’s pension, gathered herself enough to comfort her children, put them all through counseling, and somehow mended the pieces of their lives enough to keep going. Their father was a hero, no one could argue that, and Celia knew that the knowledge actually helped. A little.
EIGHT
TWO weeks left on Anna’s punitive school escort. Soren, West Corp’s backup driver, dropped her and Bethy off today. He was younger and more intent on the job than the amiable Tom, so he didn’t smile at them over the backseat and actually scowled when Anna jumped out of the car on her own without waiting for him to come around and open it for her. Whatever. He’d learn. She left the car without saying good-bye to Bethy, slamming the door on the way out.
She was sure her face was burning. Her red hair and pale skin—she couldn’t hide a damn thing, couldn’t stop the blood from rushing and telling everyone that she was embarrassed. Pissed off. Furious, really. Everything, all at once.
She was going to kill them. If she had Sam’s laser beams, she would kill them. But all she could do was find them the minute she got to school. That was something: They could never, ever hide from her.
Teia and Lew were right out in front, off to the side of the steps. Thank God Sam wasn’t with them, but only because he wasn’t at school yet. The three of them standing together, they might as well have worn their costumes and waved a flag announcing their superhero identities. They might still do that, because wasn’t that their whole point?
They should have told her what they were doing. They should have talked to her.
The siblings leaned on the brick wall, side by side, waving at friends entering the building, looking pleased with themselves. Especially when they spotted Anna marching up the sidewalk. A double image of smug, arms crossed, beaming at her.
She couldn’t even talk at first and just stood there, glaring at them.
“Hey, Anna,” Teia said. Smugger than smug. Ultrasmug.
“What did you think you were doing?” Anna demanded. It was a stupid quest
ion, an unreasonable question. It didn’t matter what Teia thought she was doing, it was already done, and Teia might not even know it. “You went out late, didn’t you? Like three A.M. late so you knew I’d be asleep and not figure out you were running around.”
“And you thought you were the brains of the operation, didn’t you?” Teia said.
Lew laughed. “Just chill out. Nobody got hurt, we saved some lives, and people love us. They’re talking about us. It’s great!”
Anna hadn’t had a chance to gossip with anyone, but looking around, catching a phrase of conversation here and there—yeah, people were talking. New supers in Commerce City. Wasn’t it exciting? A couple of girls at the foot of the stairs were bent over a smartphone, wondering aloud if the boys were cute under their masks.
Teia was grinning like an idiot. Who did she think she was fooling?
Anna stepped forward, lowered her voice. “It’s too much publicity, you’ll get screwed over before you even get started.”
“You worry too much. This is exactly what we wanted—for people to pay attention.”
“You’ve painted a giant target on your chest. All three of you.”
Teia dramatically rolled her eyes. “That just means we’re doing something right. While you’re sitting on your ass.”
Anna leaned in close, looking for a big stick to poke with. “I notice you went for a fire. Very dramatic. Is it because of your dad, is that why you want to be a hero so badly?”
Teia’s expression darkened in a way Anna had never seen before. She almost took it back, but Teia said, “It’s got nothing to do with him.”
Anna started to apologize for the low blow, when Lew waved at someone over her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Teddy and Sam were walking up the sidewalk. The gang was all here. Sam sauntered on over to join his conspirators.
“I guess you saw the news this morning,” he said. If possible, he was more smug than the other two put together. There they were, just like in the picture in the paper, and Anna wondered if anyone else noticed.
No. The girls were still hunched over their phone, giggling at the picture online. Nobody else saw it because they didn’t expect to see it. The biggest component of any superhero costume was context.
“It’s a mistake,” she said, no matter how lame it sounded. “You’ll see.”