Across the street, the trees weren’t blowing at all.
Her feet slipped, and she yelped. Cushioned by a whirlwind pounding around her, she floated a few feet off the ground. Her backpack slipped off her shoulder. She flailed her arms; it felt almost like swimming. The pocket of wind held her like a hand. Thank God she was wearing tights; her skirt tossed around her hips.
From above her, a man floated down, arms outstretched, riding the breeze like it was a surfboard. He wore the unmistakable sleek costume of a superhuman vigilante—or villain. A strip of silk ran along the insides of his arms, down his torso, rippling like sails. He wore a mask on the top part of his face. His frame was thin—barely postadolescent. He had overgrown brown hair and a shit-eating grin.
Celia struggled, but she only flopped like a fish out of water.
“You’re Celia West?” he said, calmly hovering before her.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Hm,” he murmured, like he was all macho or something. “I expected you to be more…”
“More what?”
“I don’t know. More something.”
“What do you want with me?”
“You’re going to tell me how to join the Olympiad.”
She rolled her eyes. This was the most dangerous type out there: smart enough to track her down, and stupid enough to think she was worth something. Eager enough to want to save the world—but not a clue as to what he was trying to save. To him it was all one supercharged cinematic adventure.
“You think I know how? I can’t help you.”
“But Captain Olympus is your father.”
And she hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of years now. “We don’t get along. Now put me down and go send a résumé to West Corp.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, then gave his head a decisive shake. “No. I’m too close. Can’t back down. If I bring you to them, they’ll see what I can do. They’ll have to take me.”
Stretching forward, he swooped toward her and scooped her up. Cradling her in his arms, he soared up, over the campus, toward downtown. They weaved around buildings like they were trees in some immense forest, the streets dwindling beneath them.
He could fly. Easily, like he was taking a stroll across town. He used the wind somehow; a swell of air carried them along. She might have been impressed, if she hadn’t been so pissed off and scared. She clung to him, because if she struggled now and he let go, she’d drop a couple hundred feet to the ground.
He aimed his flight toward West Plaza. The glowing blue logo shone as a beacon.
Cruising along one side of the tower, he flew up, straightened, and gracefully touched down on the helipad, feet first. He set her down beside him. She stumbled; her legs were shaking. She wanted to run away, but she couldn’t.
The service door by the helipad opened and the Bullet jogged onto the roof, no doubt called by the West Plaza alarm system. He took in the scene, glancing at the masked guy, then at Celia, and back.
“What’s going on?” Robbie said, half-directing the question to Celia.
“The Bullet, just who I want to see,” the stranger said. “I want to join the Olympiad.”
Robbie rounded his shoulders and crossed his arms, donning an annoyed frown. “What makes you think we have any openings?”
“You’ll take me.” He nodded, clenched his fists. “You’ll take me, or I’ll drop her.”
The wind snatched Celia off her feet again, wrenching a shriek out of her. She tried to clamp her mouth shut, wanting to be brave and quiet so she wouldn’t distract Robbie. But the handlike breeze scooped her up and carried her over the edge of the building. She hung there, suspended, a hundred stories over cold pavement, nothing between her and the ground. Her scream was blood-curdling. Don’t look down, don’t look down …
The stranger reached toward her, guiding the power that kept her aloft. Please don’t distract him, she prayed at Robbie. Please.
He looked at Robbie. “What do you say?”
“I say you’re going about this all wrong.”
“Get Captain Olympus and Spark up here. I bet they won’t have any hesitation.”