After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

“But why?” Spark asked.

“Does it matter?”

Ultimately, a universe filled with conspiracies was so simple, so elegant, a series of interlacing clockworks.

“We’re in a world of trouble, my friends,” the Bullet said.

“No more so than usual,” Olympus replied with false cheer as he gently picked Analise up and carried her in his arms.

Suzanne led him out, to show him which guest room to use. The Bullet followed.

“Sleeping out the night isn’t going to make things any easier for her,” Celia said to Arthur, who remained behind. “You just made it easier on the rest of us, not having to deal with her right now.” She hugged herself tightly and watched the monitors, which showed replays of Breezeway’s capture, of the police boat in the harbor, of a file photo of Officer Douglas Grady in uniform, proud and smiling.

“Perhaps,” Arthur said. He walked over to her, tentatively touched her shoulder. She wanted him to. She had begun to wonder if their time together that evening had happened at all—they both reverted to their rigid selves so quickly, so firmly.

Then, he squeezed her shoulder, put his arms around her. She leaned into his embrace, and he kissed the top of her head. How could he have been so afraid of emotion? His feelings for her wrapped her in a warm cocoon. She’d never have to wonder if he loved her.

He pulled away abruptly. She started to complain, but a moment later the others returned to the command room. She was sure she blushed as red as her hair. Arthur quietly watched the monitors. He’d had much more practice maintaining that mask of calm.

Suzanne and Warren had pulled street clothes—shirts and trousers—on over their skin suits. Suzanne had pinned her hair into a bun.

“Warren and I are going to try to post bail for Breezeway. If we’re lucky, maybe we can talk Chief Appleton into releasing him into our custody.”

Warren, the Captain, added, “Robbie, Arthur, I want you to stay here and monitor the situation. Don’t go out, unless it’s an emergency. We don’t want to give the cops an excuse to start shooting.”

Arthur said, “It begs the question: After all this, what constitutes an emergency?”

“The Destructor breaks out of the asylum?” Warren said, offering a cocky grin. He put his arm around Suzanne’s shoulders and the two of them left, side by side. Like they were just going to bail their kid out of jail or something.

Arthur huffed. “As if I’d be able to do anything about that.”

Nobody told Celia what she was supposed to do.

“Perhaps you could keep an eye on Typhoon,” Arthur said softly.

She nodded. She wanted to kiss him before she left, but Robbie was right there. Maybe if she imagined it, filled her mind with the thought of it, he’d read it there. He’d know.

—Later.— Was the thought he returned.

Thoughts weren’t enough for her, she decided.

She looked in on Analise, sleeping in one of the guest rooms down the hall. Her parents had honored her request and left her mask on. It must have been uncomfortable, but Analise was out cold and didn’t seem to notice. She lay on her back, arms folded over her stomach, head tilted slightly. She breathed deeply and seemed fine, for now.

Celia went to the living room to stare out the windows.

It was the same city. It couldn’t have been, though. The city she looked out on had turned hostile. A half-dozen police helicopters circled over various neighborhoods, at various heights, shining lights down on the streets. Where one of them focused a light on one spot, then circled around that spot, the craft looked like a toy spinning on an illuminated wire.

She listened for the pounding beat of helicopter engines, but heard nothing.

She was lucky to be here, lucky to be safe within these walls, protected by the city’s heroes. Not out there, restricted by curfew, holed up, alone and afraid.

It was a different world, where she could return to her parents’ home and feel safe.

Absently, she rubbed her forehead. She ought to bandage it again. The throbbing of the stitches had been increasing all evening.

“You ought to sleep. You ought to have been asleep all day.” She turned. Arthur came toward her, hands in his pockets, his expression sheepish. “I couldn’t stay away. Robbie can watch the monitors by himself.”

In another step they came together, body to body, arms wrapped around each other.