After the Golden Age

He was a child. A big, spoiled child. What must Analise think of the great Captain Olympus bickering like this? Maybe she’d be a little more understanding when Celia griped about her family the way other people griped about theirs. “Dad—,” she said, the same time Suzanne said, “Warren—”

Analise looked uncomfortable, inching toward the door like she wanted to leave. “Celia, maybe we can get together for coffee when you’re back on your feet.”

She didn’t get away before Mark came back in, phone still in hand, his mouth pulled into a frown.

“They found a pony bottle—an independent air supply for scuba divers—under the front seat on the bus. The driver wasn’t supposed to die.”

Mentis said, “So it wasn’t the work of a random psychotic. It was an assassination.”

They all, every last one of them, five of them superhuman, looked at Celia. Her head throbbed viciously. She wondered if the nurse would give her another dose of painkillers.

“There’s more,” Mark said, his voice growing even more somber, if possible, and Celia wondered what could be worse. “He was granted a pardon for a felony conviction several years ago. Just like the others.”

* * *

After Mark’s announcement, Analise made a hasty exit, offering apologies and the excuse that she didn’t want to interrupt. Arthur stared after her. He knew about her, Celia didn’t doubt. She wondered if she should say something. She hoped Analise wasn’t cooking up some heroic adventure based on the fragment of information she’d heard. Mark, a grim set to his face, muttered something about needing to be back at the station and followed after her. Then visiting hours ended, and the Olympiad filed out.

Celia felt like she hadn’t gotten to really visit with anyone.

The entire hospital fell quiet after visiting hours. The night shift of nurses and orderlies came on. Celia got another dose of muscle relaxant and painkillers. They wanted her to sleep, now that the initial danger from the concussion was over. Once the lights were off, she was more than willing to do so.

She had to struggle to rouse herself and focus on a figure standing in the doorway. Not a nurse. He was wearing a business suit, and leaned on the doorjamb, like all he wanted to do was watch her. Mentis? Had Arthur come back to check on her?

No, it didn’t feel like Arthur, which was an odd thing to think. He was the telepath, not her. She shouldn’t have felt anything. When this man stepped toward her, his movements were menacing. He saw her stir, and moved out of the glare of the hallway’s light into the darkness of the room.

“Aren’t visiting hours over?” she said. Her voice sounded creaky. She tried to wake up.

“I got special dispensation so I could avoid the crowds when I came to visit the hero of the hour.” It was Mayor Anthony Paulson. “So. How is the hero?”

The bus hijacking—it was an assassination. She’d called Mark with her suspicions, Mark had told his father—and now he was here.

She wanted to scream. She had to scream. But she just lay there. I know what you are, I know what you’re doing …

No, she didn’t. She had suspicions, and she still couldn’t guess why. Being mayor should have been enough of a power trip.

“I’m fine,” she said. Actually, she felt nauseated.

“You don’t look so good. A little pale, I think.”

“It’s the bandages.”

He winced, as if in sympathy. “Still, you’re lucky. It could have been so much worse.”

It was supposed to have been so much worse. “Yeah.”

All he’d have to do was put a pillow over her face, or inject something into her, or stab her in the throat with a letter opener. If that was what he was here for, it would only take a moment, and she wasn’t strong enough to fight. No one would ever find out until the on-duty nurse made rounds. And no one would suspect Mayor Paulson of any ill deed.

“Mark says you two haven’t been getting along. I was sorry to hear that.”

“He came to see me earlier,” she said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I have to say, your testimony at the Sito trial really threw him for a loop. It threw all of us for a loop.”

“So I gathered.”

“But it’s water under the bridge, I’m sure.”

“Lots of water.”

“You’re one of the good guys now. Isn’t that right?”

If he was going to kill her, she wished he’d get it over with, since the conversation was making her nervous. Her stomach was churning. She wondered if she could throw up on him.

“I’m just trying to get through the day, like everyone else.”

“Ah. Well. So far so good.”

She reached to the bedside call button and buzzed for the nurse.

He didn’t react, didn’t flinch at all. His face was in shadow, his expression distorted. He might have been smiling, wincing, snarling. The tone of it slipped and transformed.

A woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared in the doorway. “Ms. West, are you all right?”

“I feel a little dizzy. The doctor said I should call if I feel dizzy.”