What had happened? Someone with powers had discovered their secret identities, obviously, but how? Celia remained perfectly still, listening.
Then the voice of a stranger said, “This is when you try to convince me to use my powers for good, rather than for cheating at poker. Although it’s lucky I was cheating at poker, or I never would have been in a position to help you.” He had a crisp British accent, calm in tone, maybe even a little amused.
After a moment’s pause, her father grumbled, “I was doing fine by myself.”
“Fifteen against one says otherwise,” the stranger said.
“We told you to stay in the command room,” Robbie said, threateningly.
The stranger replied, offhandedly, “I can tell what you’re saying about me from a hundred feet away, I might as well be here so I can defend myself.”
Celia lay there, clutching her swimming medal, her heart racing. She desperately wanted to jump up, run out to the kitchen, and demand to know what had happened, who the stranger was, and was Dad okay—
“You know you have an eavesdropper?” the stranger said. “Next room over.”
Celia held her breath—she hadn’t made a sound. Who was this guy? Did he have amplified hearing and sense her heartbeat? Could he smell her?
After a pause, her parents both said, with an air of frustration, “Celia.”
Her mother’s soft footsteps approached the area where the kitchen opened into the living room. “Celia? Why aren’t you in bed?”
She hesitated. Maybe she could pretend she wasn’t here, that the stranger was wrong. But all Suzanne had to do was enter the room and look at the sofa. Celia answered, “I wanted to watch TV.”
“Why don’t you come on out?”
Celia stared at the darkened ceiling. “I don’t want to.”
“Well, come out anyway. I don’t want you sneaking off with only half the story.”
Sighing heavily, Celia lurched off the sofa and prepared to trudge to her mother. She tucked the medal under her nightshirt. As soon as she appeared, Suzanne put her arm around Celia’s shoulder and guided her to the kitchen.
Her father stood near the table, arms crossed, glaring at the world in general. Robbie leaned against the wall nearby, looking equally sullen. They’d focused their attention on a man she’d never seen before. He stood at the end of the hallway, his hands tucked in the pockets of his brown trench coat, open to show a dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He had pale hair, ruffled back from a long face. His gaze was piercing. He studied her calmly.
“This is our daughter Celia. Celia, this is Arthur Mentis.”
“Hello,” he said.
She didn’t say anything. Just glared. He quirked a smile, like he understood her mistrust.
He looked at Suzanne. “She knows? Your secret identities, everything?”
Suzanne said, “We didn’t see a point in keeping it secret. She’d find out eventually.”
“She was supposed to join us one day,” Warren said, his voice flat.
Supposed to. No one expected that to happen now.
“Then you don’t have any particular … talents, I take it?” he said to her. That he spoke directly to her, and not through one of her parents, surprised her. He looked a lot younger than them, but he wasn’t intimidated by them, which made her warm to him.
That didn’t mean she had to answer him, especially when her father’s tone had made the answer obvious. “So what do you do?” she said, frowning.
“I spend my free time cheating at poker to pay for medical school. Not quite as glamorous as being the Olympiad. But there you are.”
“He’s a telepath,” Suzanne said.
Celia flushed, her cheeks burning. She suddenly felt naked—all her thoughts and frustrations, he could see them all. He could see that at this moment, she wasn’t particularly fond of her parents, and she certainly wasn’t interested in being nice to him. He must think she was awful.
“Then he knows about you guys,” she said.