Super Natural: The New Super Humans, Book Three Read online

  “Well, as long as you don't think you will—”

  “It's a lock and key,” Ethan said. “Hardly a loaded pistol.”

  “Guys, I'm working here,” Tru muttered, and they finally shut up. She focused, and after a moment, the ribbons of light twisted out from her fingers toward Beck. He took a step back in reflex, but then seemed to think better of it and moved toward her.

  “Try aiming it here,” he suggested, holding out a fist.

  Tru nodded slowly, the strings of light twisting together into a thicker rope, curling sinuously toward Beck like a glowing snake. He jerked when it touched his hand.

  “Are you okay?” Tru asked as the light rope stuttered just a bit.

  “Yeah, keep going.”

  The rope of light curled around his fist, slithering over his skin and wrapping around his wrist. Beck let out a quiet sound.

  “What is it?” Chloe asked.

  “I can't move my hand,” he replied.

  “Sorry!” Tru said, and the light started to retreat.

  “No, it's okay,” Beck said quickly. “It doesn't hurt. I just can't move my hand. Keep going.”

  Tru nodded and the light crept up his arm. It curled around his elbow . . . his bicep . . . and finally came to a stop peeking over his shoulder, his entire arm wrapped in glowing light.

  “Are you okay?” Wren asked.

  Beck nodded, his jaw tight. “I'm fine. I just can't move my arm.”

  His own hand started to glow as he accessed his power. Chloe could see his muscles tensing and bulging, but his arm remained frozen in position.

  He let out a breath. “I can't move it.”

  “Interesting,” Dylan murmured. “Some kind of paralysis, maybe? Tru, you think you have any more?”

  “I—I don't know,” she said, her voice shaky. “It's kind of hard to—” the light moved again, trailing down across Beck's chest, but then Tru gasped and it snapped back, whipping away from his arm and flinging itself back into her own fingers before it extinguished completely.

  Tru let out an irritated growl. “I almost had it.”

  “Relax,” Dylan said. “It'll come. It just takes practice.”

  Wren got up and approached her. “He's right. It's amazing you have such good control already. It took all of us a lot longer to get that far.”

  “Really?” She looked hopeful.

  “Definitely,” Beck said, flexing his hand and shaking it out now that he could move again. “You're doing great, Tru.”

  Chloe leaned forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees as she studied Tru. “So, a padlock and key, and you can basically paralyze people. It's like you have some kind of binding power.”

  “That reminds me of—” Miranda got up suddenly and grabbed her bag, digging through it for her laptop.

  “What is it?” Chloe asked, but her friend held up a finger as she powered it up.

  “I've been transcribing the journal translations into my computer and correlating them as best I can by topic—creating a searchable database . . .” she muttered to herself as she tapped at the keys. “There was something about a lock . . . here.” She stabbed a finger at the screen with a jubilant smile.

  “Listen to this,” she said. “As Chaos gains strength, it becomes more difficult to defeat. In fact, it is impossible to destroy, even for The Order at full strength.”

  “Well, that's encouraging,” Dylan muttered.

  Miranda shot him a glare, but kept reading. “However, it can be contained. Imprisoned behind lock and key, its access to power restricted. It becomes dormant, the threat extinguished.”

  “So, you think that's me?” Tru asked. “I'm the lock and key that can contain this thing? I bind it and poof, it disappears?”

  “Sure sounds like it,” Miranda replied. “Like you wrap it up in your magic light rope, tighter and tighter—”

  “Like a mummy?” Tru frowned. “You think I'll be able to do that?”

  “Sure you will.” Dylan stood and patted Beck on the back. “It just takes practice, and you've got your practice dummy right here.” He caught Beck's glare. “No offense.”

  Beck rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. None taken.”

  Ethan's phone buzzed and he yanked it from his pocket. “Wish I could stay and watch, but the old man's on the warpath,” he said, reading the screen. “I've gotta run.”

  He leaned over to kiss Chloe goodbye. “Call me later?”

  “Sounds good.” She smiled, and he kissed her again. Chloe's stomach flipped like it always did when Ethan touched her, and she couldn't resist tangling her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck.

  “Ugh. Get a room.” Miranda groaned. Ethan flipped her off without looking up from the kiss.

  They pulled apart, though, when Ethan's phone buzzed again, and he headed out. Through the window, Chloe watched him cross the street and get into his car. When he drove away, she turned to face the others.

  “Okay,” she said. “There's something you all need to know.”

  Between herself, Dylan and Miranda, they shared the information about the solar flares, and the new deadline that they appeared to be working under.

  “So you're sure, then? March tenth is the day?” Beck asked.

  “As sure as we can be,” Dylan replied.

  “And from the visions, we can narrow it down to evening—not full night, but it's not during the day either.”

  “And you're going to keep this all from Ethan.” Beck scrubbed a hand over his head, his tone reproachful.

  “Look, I'm not asking any of you to lie to him,” Chloe said. “I'll deal with Ethan. It's my decision to protect him and keep him out of this. All I'm asking is that none of you say anything to him about the solar flares.”

  “No, that's not fair,” Wren said. “We can't let you carry this on your own. If you believe that the vision is true, then we all need to agree to keep Ethan safe. I, for one, am in.” She looked expectantly around the group.

  “Me, too,” Miranda said quietly, and the rest echoed the sentiment, even Beck.

  “The tenth, huh?” Tru said with a heavy sigh. “That doesn't give me a lot of time to get a handle on my power.”

  “But you will,” Chloe said. “We're all here to help you. And I don't know about you guys, but I, for one, am relieved that we have the beginnings of a plan.”

  “It's not much of one yet,” Beck said. “We know when and where. We know Tru has to tie this thing up, but we still need a plan of attack.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” Dylan said, pulling out his own laptop and setting it next to Miranda's. “The Scribe and I have put our heads together and come up with some suggestions.”

  They smiled at each other then turned to grin at the rest of The Order.

  “God help us all,” Beck muttered, and the room broke out in laughter.

  Gina Talbot stood in the midst of the clearing, atop a convergence of ley lines, and waited for further instructions. She could feel It gaining strength within her, the pulsing web of It’s influence covering the town like a blanket. It poked and prodded at the energy underground, although she didn't know exactly what It was looking for. A weakness, maybe? A particular intersection that would give It more power?

  She'd learned not to ask questions. She simply followed It’s directions to half a dozen spots circling the town—a riverbed, a gathering of large boulders, a large tree stump with a new sapling emerging from the center—waiting for It to decide whatever It was going to decide.

  Gina examined her current surroundings: the cliff bordering one edge of the clearing, the trees circling the rest. Sparse grass and wildflowers were starting to fill in the dusty patches with the approaching spring, and a few boulders and broken tree trunks lay tossed about as if by a giant's hand.

  She extended a hand tentatively, smiling when a few pebbles rolled over the ground before floating a few inches up in the air.

  This was new. And she liked it.

  “Stop playing around,�
� the voice in her head hissed, and a sharp pain spiked through her skull. Her fingers clenched and the pebbles dropped as she fell to her knees in pain.

  “I'm sorry,” she whimpered.

  “This is the place,” the voice said. “Bring the others in two weeks' time.”

  Gina nodded and started off down the forest path, quickening her steps when It prodded her to hurry up.

  The guilt was eating Chloe alive. She justified her dishonesty by telling herself she was doing what she had to do to keep Ethan alive, but still . . .

  Every time she misdirected him. Every time she opened her mouth to say something about the upcoming battle as it drew nearer with each passing day. Every moment he caught her lost in thought about how she was going to distract him so she could go fight, when she promised him she wouldn't?

  It ate at her.

  She knew he could tell something was wrong. She'd lost weight; a lack of appetite combined with increased training had her muscles lean and tight, and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her inability to sleep.

  Ethan asked her about it and she said she was just worried about the others.

  Another lie.

  In reality, she obsessed about what to do about Ethan. How to distract him and keep him away when the time came to fight.

  But day after day passed and she still had no idea of what to do.

  Of course, in the end, the answer was obvious, and she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it sooner. She stood facing the picture window, watching him wash his car across the street, worrying and wondering . . . and it came to her.

  It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. Another lie on top of all the rest. But she was in too far to turn back, and she didn't see an alternative.

  So, she pressed a hand to the cool glass and murmured an apology—she wasn't certain to whom—before walking out the front door and across the street.

  Ethan looked up and smiled when he saw her. He was spraying soap off the hood of his car, his own hair damp and hanging over his eyebrows. He shoved it back, leaving a smear of soap on his forehead, and Chloe's heart stopped, just a little. She forced a smile and reached up to wipe off the suds before popping up on her toes to kiss him.

  He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close, deepening the kiss as he let the hose drop. Unfortunately, it landed on the handle of the spray gun, sending a shower of water upward to cascade over them.

  Ethan cursed through a burst of laughter and grabbed the hose to stop the water flow. His blue eyes were lit up with mirth and Chloe shook out her wet hair to hide the unbidden tears that sprang to her own eyes.

  She had to do this.

  “You got a minute?” she asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure.” He turned back toward the car, spraying the top. “What's up?”

  “I, uh, I got a vision,” she said. “And it involves you.”

  Ethan released the water nozzle and his head snapped toward her. “Me? Was it—” He hesitated, and she knew what he was thinking.

  “Not the darkness, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No, this was different.” Her throat closed up and she forced herself to swallow. “We need your help.”

  He set the hose down carefully and approached her. “Help with what?”

  “There's a guy,” Chloe replied. “Another member of The Order. He's somewhere in Lynnville. I saw him at the mall.” Her stomach burned with the lie. She'd picked a town about an hour away, just to be safe.

  “The mall?” He frowned, winding up the hose. “That's weird.”

  “Yeah, weird.” She swallowed, bracing herself for the rest. No going back now. “I saw you, too. You convince him to come back with you. You're the one who brings him in.”

  “Me?” Ethan dropped the coiled hose on the ground. “Why me?”

  She shrugged, going for nonchalant. “The visions don't tell me stuff like that, you know? Just the messenger, here.”

  He nodded and scratched his chin. “Okay, so you want to go to this mall? When do we leave?”

  “Next Tuesday.” At his raised eyebrows, she added with a shrug, “I saw a newspaper with the date. Sometimes we get lucky.” She fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans before sliding her hands into her pockets. “And it's not we. It's you.”

  “Huh?”

  “The vision made it pretty clear that you need to go alone.” Her gut was a mess of butterflies and she genuinely worried she might throw up. “I think if I go, he won't come with you.”

  Ethan considered that, rubbing idly at his driver's side door with a chamois before leaning against it. “How am I supposed to convince him? I don't have any idea what to say.”

  Chloe knew it wouldn't come to that, since there was no guy at the mall in the first place, but she smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. “I'll help you. But let's face it, you'll do just fine. The vision said so.”

  He still looked doubtful, but nodded. “What time?”

  She scrunched her nose in a semblance of regret. “Afraid I'm not much help with that one. Pretty sure it's afternoon, maybe early evening, but other than that . . .”

  “So, I have to hang out at the Lynnville mall all afternoon?” He grimaced.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” She needed to push him a little more. “I mean, you don't have to, but we really need all the help we can get, and if this guy has a strong pow—”

  “No, no, of course, I get it,” he said quickly, flipping the chamois around and around in his hands. “You know I'll do whatever I can to help.”

  His blue eyes were so clear and earnest. Chloe felt like dirt.

  Lower than dirt.

  The sludge under the slime under the dirt.

  He'll understand. It's all to protect him.

  She pasted on a smile and leaned up to kiss him, hoping he didn't see it falter.

  “Thanks,” she murmured into his neck.

  His arms slid around her waist, holding her close, and she closed her eyes as he replied, “Anything for you.”

  Somehow they managed to keep the deadline from Ethan. Chloe was a nervous wreck as the day neared—the day they'd fight—but she painted on a smile and semi-relaxed attitude, replying “nothing yet” when Ethan would ask if her visions had revealed anything further about the upcoming battle.

  Chloe trained with the others, made plans that excluded Ethan and herself when he was around, but when he was occupied elsewhere, she was right in the thick of things.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Miranda asked more than once.

  “I have to.”

  Miranda would shrug and sigh, but wouldn't try to dissuade Chloe from her plans. She understood there wasn't an alternative, not if they wanted to keep Ethan away.

  Keep Ethan alive.

  Sooner than she would have liked, Monday rolled around, the dreaded night before the battle, and she and Ethan were hanging out in her living room, a movie playing that neither one of them were watching. She had to fight to keep from clinging to him. Apologizing to him. Begging for his forgiveness or running away with him after all.

  But she didn't.

  She closed her eyes and the vision appeared behind her closed lids: Ethan in darkness. Ethan breathing his last. She fought the urge to cry and forced herself to breathe normally. To look at him. To smile.

  To lie.

  “So, let me make sure I have this straight,” Ethan said, scribbling on a piece of paper that had been folded and unfolded numerous times, belying his nervousness at his first solo mission. “About five-nine or five-ten, slender . . . dark hair with a streak of white in the front . . . jeans, a gray t-shirt with a picture of an owl on it, a leather jacket, and red high-tops?” He frowned slightly at the description and the non-existent guy's fashion sense. Chloe wanted to make sure he didn't find anyone that met the criteria, so she'd had to come up with some rather unique characteristics.

  “Uh huh,” she said, shifting on the couch and tucking her feet under her. “And don't
forget the tattoo.”

  “Right.” He made a check mark on the paper. “A black spiral on the inside of his left wrist. Got it.”

  Maybe she'd overdone it a bit on the details, but there was no going back now.

  “And you still don't have any idea what I should say when I find him?”

  Chloe grabbed his arm and pulled it over her shoulder as she snuggled into him. Partly to hide her expression, partly because having him close was soothing.

  “It'll come to you,” she said.

  He sighed and squeezed her closer, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. “I hope so. Because I don’t want him to punch me in the face.”

  They let the subject drop and pretended to watch the rest of the movie, although Chloe was pretty sure neither one of them was paying attention. Around eleven, he sat up and stretched.

  “I should go,” he said. “You have class in the morning.”

  “Yeah, you're probably right,” Chloe said, standing as he did, despite the fact she wouldn't actually be attending that class.

  She led him to the door and he pulled her into another kiss. Chloe ignored the guilt. It was because of everything she was doing that this wouldn't be their last kiss. When all of this was over, they'd have many, many more kisses to come. Despite that, she pressed into him when he started to pull back, tangled her fingers in his hair and held him tightly, unwilling to let him go.

  After a long moment, they finally took a breath.

  “You okay?” Ethan asked, lips swollen and eyes bright. “That was kind of intense.”

  Chloe forced a nonchalant shrug. “I like to kiss you.” She tried not to cry. Don't hate me.

  He grinned. “Well, I like to kiss you, too,” he said, leaning down to prolong their goodbye for another minute or two.

  “Okay,” he said finally, a little breathless. “I really should go.”

  Chloe nodded, pretty breathless herself. “He’ll be in the food court by the teriyaki place,” she said. “Don't be late.”

  Ethan smiled. “I'm leaving at ten-thirty, just to be sure,” he said. “I won't be late. I'll be there all afternoon.”

  “And evening,” she said, reminding him.