Busted Flush

“Wait a minute. Do you think I only hooked up with you because you suddenly got powers? It couldn’t possibly be because you were the nicest guy on the set? Because I had such a good time just hanging out with you?” Not to mention John hadn’t fucked almost every other girl on the set like DB had. Those days on American Hero seemed like such a long time ago now. “You were the only one who saw me, not Curveball the ace or the hot chick.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “You said you were coming here to talk to me.”

He had to know what she wanted to talk to him about. Couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s changed from when we started. I feel like someone else’s tool. And I don’t like it. So I’m going to take some time off.”

“Leaving. With DB,” he said. Like a dog worrying a bone.

“Just leaving,” she said.

He smirked. Like he didn’t believe her. With sudden clarity, she realized the Committee wasn’t the only thing she couldn’t stay with anymore. She had thought—hoped—she could leave one and not the other. But maybe that was wishful thinking.

She didn’t want to have to say this to him. Not like this. But pity was a trap she didn’t want to fall into. Feeling sorry for him would make them both unhappy. More unhappy, rather.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” And he didn’t say anything. She wanted him to deny it. To grip her hand, however weakly, and reassure her. Plead with her. But he didn’t say anything. “You’re always going to be worried that I’m going to leave you for him. Or the next flashy ace that comes along.”

“DB was right. Maybe I was trying to keep you two apart. Because I was right, too. That if you two were together, you’d end up with him—”

Enough of this. Enough of being batted back and forth between them like a tennis ball. They all needed a time-out.

“I don’t think you even see me anymore,” she said. “I think I’m just . . . just this thing to you. Some kind of validation.”

“Kate—”

“So I’m going to take some time off.”

“Wait a minute—”

“I’m sorry, John.” She kissed him. Lingered. Met his gaze for a moment, and didn’t like the misery she saw there. But staying wouldn’t change it. They’d hash this argument out again, and again—and sooner or later, she’d walk out just the same.

She left the room. Her steps came faster as she traveled down the hallway, looking for the front door. When she reached it, she left the hospital at a run and kept going.

Double Helix

MY HEART WAKETH

Melinda M. Snodgrass

THE WIND IS MERELY swirling now, the rain pattering on the leaves of the bushes and bouncing on the cobblestones. Drake’s eyes are half closed and he’s nodding. A golden glow surrounds his body, extending for about a foot. Fortune never looked this peaceful when Sekhmet lived inside him. I wonder what she’s saying to the boy. Drake’s a frighteningly powerful ace now. Ra the way Ra was meant to be. He’s going to have to be trained and taught until he’s of an age to actually use these powers. I hope Sekhmet guides him well.

Across the square Hoodoo Mama, assisted by the dead, works with Ana to construct a tent to cover Bubbles. The flagstones have cracked and sunk into the wet Louisiana soil because of the weight of her body. I find the mound of flesh disturbing and disgusting, and yet I owe my life to that quaking mass. I can’t tell if she’s trying to move or it’s just the skin reacting to the strike of the raindrops.

Billy Ray is standing with his hands clenched at his sides, jaw working. The Midnight Angel is at his side. She looks quite amazing in her rain-drenched leathers. We’re all sopping wet from the hurricane. Ray is staring daggers at Bubbles while the Angel whispers frantically in his ear. I saunter over just as Ray gives an emphatic shake of the head and starts walking toward Bubbles.

Lohengrin has been standing near the women working around Bubbles with his sword drawn. He moves to intercept Ray. I fall into step with the head of SCARE.

“Little hard to arrest that,” I offer. “I’m not sure there’s a crane that could lift her.”

“I should arrest you all. Every goddamn one of you.” His misshapen face turns toward me. “Oh, not you of course.” Bitterness laces the words. “You’ll wave your British passport and your diplomatic immunity and go waltzing out of here. But I know you’re involved in all this somehow. I just can’t prove it.”

“You will not touch Bubbles,” Lohengrin says. His voice is a Germanic rumble. “She saved all our lives. Yours, too. You should be grateful. She is a great heroine.”

It’s absolutely true, and I still want to belt him. He’s such a naive, sanctimonious prig.

Ray’s chest puffs out. Lohengrin makes himself even taller. The smell of bravado and testosterone fills the air. I step in before there’s a macho-off.