After the Golden Age

“You haven’t been back here in months.” Actually, it was years. “Your folks should be getting back any minute now, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I let you leave without seeing them.”

“I’d prefer it if they didn’t know I was here at all.”

He gestured with a thumb over his shoulders. “Security cameras. I can’t hide the footage.” Uncle Robbie, always siding with her parents.

“Robbie, please. I need to get back to campus.” She started toward the roof door.

“How are you going to get back at this hour?”

“The late bus.”

“Celia!” That pleading tone in the voice always stopped her, even now. “I guess I don’t understand it. You were born with all this.” He gestured to encompass the West Plaza building. “You could have had the best of everything. How many people would kill to have all this? And you just throw it all away?”

Robbie had come from the east side, the not-so-great part of town, the son of a machinist and a hairdresser. He hadn’t gone to the Elmwood Academy like Warren and Suzanne had. Instead, he’d graduated from P.S. 12. He’d have gone to college on a track scholarship—if he hadn’t been kicked out of the sport for cheating because of his powers. Then he’d met Captain Olympus and Spark, and found another outlet.

“You ever get tired of it?” she asked. “Being on Dad’s payroll for doing stuff like this? Keeping up the vigilante gig? You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t joined the Olympiad? Just gone on, gotten a normal job, had a normal life?”

“Normal isn’t an option for folks like me. We are what we are.”

“Well. I’ve got a chance to try normal for a little while. So that’s what I’m doing.” She made a broad shrug, dismissing the topic.

His short-cropped hair was more gray than black now. She couldn’t recall when that had happened.

“You are one stubborn kid,” he said.

She hugged herself and looked away.

“At least take your folks’ limo. It’ll be warm, and it’ll get you right to your doorstep.”

And it would have something to drink in the minibar. “Okay.”

“I’ll call down to the garage for you.”

“Thanks.”

Together, they went through the door, to the foyer of the penthouse, to the elevator. She stepped in and punched the button for the parking garage.

He held his hand over the door to keep it from closing. “It’s normal to call your parents once in a while, you know. They miss you, Celia. Do you think you could at least come home for Christmas this year?”

She shook her head before he’d even finished. “I’m not ready. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready.”

“Will you ever be?”

She couldn’t explain it to him, that it really was getting better, that being on her own—out of the middle of the madness that was her parents’ double lives—had brought the world into focus for her. She looked in the mirror now and saw herself. A little more time, and she’d start to see the road before her, and it wouldn’t seem so murky.

“Yeah, I will. I think. But it’s going to take time. I’m sorry. Tell them I’m sorry.” It was the first time she’d ever apologized or expressed sympathy, even indirectly.

She touched his hand, squeezed it, pushed it away from the door, and held his gaze until the doors closed.

* * *

Breezeway was something of a lone wolf. His getting involved meant the superhumans had been in conference, which meant they thought this was serious. She was almost flattered, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were wasting their time. She wasn’t the target. She wasn’t where they’d strike again, not really. She was a red herring.

Once on the bus, she called her mother’s cell phone.

“Celia, what’s wrong?”

“Why does everyone always assume something’s wrong when I call?”

“Because you never call unless something’s wrong.”

“That’s not true.”

“Celia—”

Okay. It was true. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just think you guys should call off the surveillance on me.”

“No. Absolutely not. In case you haven’t noticed, the Strad Brothers tried to kidnap you during both their robberies. They’ll try again.”

“I know, that’s just it. They’re using me as a distraction. While you guys are busy worrying about me, they get away with another robbery.”

“I’ll worry about you over a fish any day of the week. Celia, this is serious, it’s not like we’re following you around on a high-school date.”

Except that they would be following her on dates, the next time she and Mark went out. Hell, Mark was probably in on it.

No need to get paranoid or anything.

“I think your resources would be better spent tracking them down than trying to protect me. You heard what Arthur said, they want me alive. Even if they managed to catch me, I’d be safe. Hell, I might even learn something that could bring them down.”

“Don’t get any ideas. You’re not trained for that kind of mission.”

She wasn’t trained for any kind of mission, except auditing income statements. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” She was starting to sound surly. She needed to wrap this up before she said something she’d regret later.