Dreams Of The Golden Age Part 5

Anna told him, "Sam, don't go to the front of the building, pull around back."

They said good-byes and see you at schools, Teia leaned over to give her a hug, and she clambered out while a reorganization went on around her. From the sidewalk, she watched Sam's sedan drive away. Teddy waved at her through the window.

The secret elevator took about twice as long to work its way back up to the penthouse than it did to glide down. Thank you, gravity. On the way up, the thing creaked, and Anna could feel each tooth of each gear catch stiffly in its sprocket as the old mechanism cranked on. She was sure she'd get stuck, but she didn't, and finally she was in the stairwell, through the door to the real elevator, then up to the penthouse, and back home.

The only complication: Her hindbrain sense located her father in the kitchen, not the bedroom. He was waiting up for her, and the only way to sneak into the penthouse was to walk right past him. Her first option: hide somewhere. Don't go home at all. He couldn't wait up forever, and as soon as he gave up, she could sneak in and pretend like nothing had happened. Except that her father wouldn't give up, and he already knew she was here, dithering. He could feel it.

Second option: walk in and face him. To do anything else would delay the inevitable. Fine, then.

She let herself in. The place was dark except for the faint circles from a couple of night-lights in the kitchen and hallway. Enough to find her way to her bedroom, and she didn't make a sound on the carpet. But the moment she crossed the kitchen, the lights came on. Her father was standing next to the light switch. She wasn't surprised.

"You're out rather late," he said, his English accent coming through strong. He did that for effect, when he wanted to intimidate. He wore a b.u.t.ton-up s.h.i.+rt tucked into his trousers. He'd dressed for the occasion. Smiling wryly, he leaned against the wall.

Her heart pounded, but she forced her mind to stillness. Don't think of anything, or if she couldn't go blank, think of the beige carpet or green gra.s.s, anything but what was actually at the front of her mind. Shove it far back, bury it, and maybe he couldn't see it. She certainly couldn't let her thoughts run wild, flailing, where he could read them on the surface without even trying. She'd had a lot of practice at this but couldn't guess how successful she was. Arthur Mentis, the Olympiad's telepath, never let on what he did or didn't know.

She had to a.s.sume he knew everything. But just in case he didn't ...

She hated it. She could never stop paying attention around him, which often made her want to avoid him. Which wasn't fair. He was her dad, she didn't want to avoid him. But she didn't want to tell him anything, either.

n.o.body else in the world had this problem.

"Hi," she said. "Um. Can I go to bed now? I'm kind of tired."

"I imagine you are. Aren't you supposed to be grounded?"

"Um." He waited. "Yeah."

"I'm sure you had a very good reason for being out and about in the middle of the night."

"Um..." She tried to think about school, homework, the library. Maybe he'd think she'd been out studying. That was a good reason, right? As if he'd actually believe she was studying. There was no point in saying anything when he'd know she was lying, so she kept her mouth shut.

"Can you at least tell me how you managed to sneak out of the building without alerting security?"

"Why do you even bother asking? You already know."

"As a courtesy."

She swallowed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough."

G.o.d, he just stared at her, as if he could split her open by looking. And if she stood there long enough, with him hovering over her, she might spill it all. She inched away from him, down the hallway, hoping he'd just let her go.

He said, "Anna. There's no shame in asking for help. Or advice. Or for anything at all, really. We're here for you."

She choked up a little on that but fiercely shut down the emotion, not thinking or feeling anything at all. "I know. I'm okay. Really."

"I know you are, sweetheart. But nothing will stop us from worrying."

"Good night, Dad."

"All right. Sleep well."

She scurried down the hall and to her bedroom, relieved. That could have gone so much worse. At least he hadn't gotten her mother involved.

FIVE.

ARTHUR came back to bed around three in the morning. Celia was waiting up for him.

"Well?" she asked, as he closed the door and began unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt in the glow of the lamp on the nightstand.

"That girl has so much on her mind I can hardly make sense of it all. Poor thing."

"But she's okay, she's not hurt or in trouble?" She had reconciled herself to not learning the details. But she wanted rea.s.surance. A basic, simple yes or no. Was it so hard?

"She's fine, for now. But she's determined to have this secret life of hers." Tension in his mouth, around his eyes, showed through his habitual calm. His anxiety made her even more anxious.

Celia rubbed her face. She was exhausted, but there was no way she could sleep while worrying about Anna.

"If you tell me she's okay, not doing drugs or working at a strip club or anything, I'll trust you. But I really wish you'd pry, just this once."

"It wouldn't be just once, that's the problem." He finished undressing, switched off the light, and climbed into bed with her. His skin was chilled, and she s.h.i.+vered at his touch. They hunkered under the covers together to warm up, and he wrapped his arms around her. Only then did Celia start to relax. "She found one of the old Olympiad escape elevators and got it working. That's how she got out of the building. May I recommend not sealing it up, at least not right away?"

"Because if we know where she is we can keep an eye on her. Yes, I know. At least let me put a camera in there."

"If I may be so rude as to point it out, this was what you wanted: You wanted the children to find each other and help each other learn to use their powers. If they're taking the effort farther than you're comfortable with, you can't complain."

"I just wish she'd talk to us. She's never shown any sign of having powers-what could she possibly be doing?"

"You should ask yourself if you really want to know," he said, chuckling. "I'm sure it would appall us."

"I always hoped she wouldn't have powers. That she'd have a nice, boring life."

"I don't think she wants a boring life, love. At least she hasn't roped Bethy into things. At least not yet."

Bethy was the sensible one, except she worried too much. Maybe superpowers made people crazy. Celia wouldn't know. "Can you tell me that everything's going to be all right?"

"Everything's going to be all right," he said dutifully, with that sinister, studious look in his eyes. Even Arthur had this weird, mad look to him sometimes, when he knew something that the rest of the world didn't.

"You're lying."

"You didn't even have to be telepathic to know that," he said, kissing her forehead.

The next day, Celia had her weekly lunch date with a.n.a.lise Baker. No matter how busy she got, she couldn't miss this.

Their preferred spot was a downtown diner. As usual, a.n.a.lise had gotten there first and claimed a table in back. She stood, arms open, to greet Celia with a hug. The brown-skinned woman was tall and had filled out some in her middle age, but the extra roundness made her seem even more statuesque and impressive.

She hugged the woman hard, and a.n.a.lise laughed. They'd been friends for half their lives. Celia didn't have many friends from her early days. Burned too many bridges back then. But a.n.a.lise was still around.

"What's the news?" a.n.a.lise asked, after they ordered their salads.

Celia could feel the war-weary, startled look in her eyes. "I have teenage daughters, how about you?"

"Twins, Celia. You will never one-up me." a.n.a.lise pointed with her fork. "But tell me the dirt anyway."

Celia tore a corner off her paper napkin and mangled it while the wheels in her mind turned. The impulse to keep secrets was strong. But few people would understand like the woman sitting across the table would.

"I think Anna has powers, but she won't talk about it. She won't tell anyone."

a.n.a.lise was quiet a moment, her expression still, like she hadn't heard. Finally she said, "She setting pillows on fire or what?"

If only it were that obvious. Then she could sit Anna down and wheedle it out of her. Turned out this was worse than the birds-and-bees talk. That had been easy compared to simultaneously wanting to treat Anna like an adult while learning all her secrets. Celia shook her head. "I think she takes after Arthur. Some kind of mental power, something n.o.body would know about unless she said something. I just don't know how to get her to talk."

"You ought to bug the girls' restroom at Elmwood if you want to find out their secrets."

Celia had considered it but ran into Arthur's perpetual problem: How much did she really want to know? "This too shall pa.s.s, right? Arthur won't pry, and he's right not to, but anything he's learned by accident he won't talk about until Anna talks. That's the right call, too, I'm sure. He says she's fine, but..."

a.n.a.lise sat back in the booth and smiled. "But it's totally outside your control, and that drives you nuts."

This was why she and a.n.a.lise had been having lunch almost every week for two decades. "Bingo."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure my kids are up to something, too. Creeping around like spies, not saying a word they don't have to."

"Powers?" Celia questioned, even though she already knew the answer.

"Probably. But it's the same problem you have with Anna-if they've got powers, why won't they just tell me?"

Celia picked at the lettuce on her plate and smiled. "Because they don't know who you are-were-and they don't think you'll understand. Because they have to protect their secret ident.i.ties if they're going to go fight crime."

a.n.a.lise looked at her as if the concept had never occurred to her, which had to be a supreme case of cognitive dissonance. Then she slumped. "Oh, G.o.d, I hope not."

Back in the day, a.n.a.lise had been Typhoon. She hadn't worn her costume or used her powers since she'd accidentally killed a cop with a flood of water through the streets downtown. Guilt had shut her down. Celia constantly wanted to ask if she'd tried using her powers since then, if she ever hoped that she would get them back. But Celia didn't have the courage to open that old wound.

"I'd hoped whatever it was that got me would pa.s.s them over. Like it did you, you know? I figured you were proof that I couldn't pa.s.s my powers on to my kids."

"Yeah, I know."

"I just-" a.n.a.lise leaned her elbow on the table, her brow furrowed. She worked hard to appear calm and in control, but this worried her. "They'd better not do anything to lose their scholars.h.i.+ps. I don't know how they managed to swing them in the first place, but they'd better not screw it up. It's too big a chance for them."

They wouldn't lose their scholars.h.i.+ps to Elmwood Academy, not unless they did something to get kicked out of the school entirely. Celia had given them their scholars.h.i.+ps anonymously, through a charity that a.s.sisted the children of firefighters who'd been killed in the line of duty, as a.n.a.lise's husband had been.

"They'll be fine," Celia said. "They're good kids." Because that was what you said to your best friend about her offspring.

a.n.a.lise shook the thought away. "Whatever's going to happen is going to happen, whether we like it or not."

The conversation turned to other topics, normal topics, like jobs, politics, school schedules, and the tragedy of aging.

a.n.a.lise seemed happy, Celia reflected. But as she often did, her expression held a sadness. A resignation. Such mundane domesticity was not where the original trajectory of her life had aimed her. As a young woman, she'd never planned on being the widowed mother of twins.

Once again, Celia was on the verge of asking. Pus.h.i.+ng her water gla.s.s forward, casually suggesting that a.n.a.lise try to spill it with only her mind.

"You are thinking deep thoughts, my friend," the woman said finally.

Celia smiled. "Oh, not so much. Just the usual."

"You might think about taking a vacation," a.n.a.lise said. "We haven't all gone to the beach house since the kids started middle school, and you're looking tired."

"I can't look any more tired than I normally do."

"Yeah, you do, actually."

Great. Just what she needed, to start looking like c.r.a.p as well as feeling like c.r.a.p. "I'll see what I can do. I keep thinking maybe once the kids are out of school."

"That's years away. Go on vacation and take them with you. You used to be able to manage a trip every summer."

"I'll think about it."

They could all make the trip together. Sit around stewing about why their kids wouldn't talk to them, and didn't that sound like fun? Still, it was nice to know she wasn't the only one who worried.

Didn't a vacation sound lovely? Someday soon, she promised herself.

The city planning committee initiative, and her determination to make sure West Corp's bid was the one the committee picked, was the culmination of some five years of work, of reviewing civil engineering surveys, ordering a dozen or so studies of population and community patterns, making countless projections of all possible plans and outcomes to find the one that didn't just work, that didn't just make money, but that made Commerce City better. This drive, this loyalty to the city, wasn't entirely hers, Celia knew that. She worked for this plan for the same reason her parents had donned skin suits and battled villains for most of her childhood: It was in the blood. The powers written into their DNA had to be used for the protection of the city. She didn't have powers, but ultimately she had that need. She didn't argue with it.

The city had a process for getting things done, and she was adept at operating in its bureaucracies to make her plans work. She wasn't worried that the West Corp proposal would lose out. But the arrival of Danton Majors was a variable she hadn't expected. The most prominent outside partic.i.p.ant in this dance, of unknown reach and resources, he made her nervous, and she wanted to know more.

She searched online databases and news services for every reference she could find on Danton Majors. A native of Delta, comparable to Commerce City in population and resources, but inland. Proud citizen, et cetera. The articles she found were mostly s.h.i.+ny puff pieces in financial publications, extolling his genius and virtues. She read between the lines, decided he'd had a couple of lucky breaks but had parlayed that luck into a substantial business. Publicly, he did what self-made men usually did with their money: attended society functions, patronized the right charities. He was married-twenty-two years, impressive-had two college-age kids, though his family stayed out of the public eye. The man was careful with his image.

She'd have to dig somewhere else to find any dirt on him, so she called a contact at the Commerce Eye. Over the years, the onetime tabloid rag had turned respectable by scooping its rival, the Banner, on a string of big stories. In the meantime, the Banner had gone stodgy and eventually folded.

"h.e.l.lo, Mary? It's Celia West. I need a favor."

She could almost hear the reporter sputtering on the other end of the line. Celia had done her a few favors over the last couple of years-an exclusive interview, some on-the-record quotes about West Corp, and even a statement for a memorial retrospective about her father. Mary Danforth owed her big-time but probably never thought Celia would actually call her on it.

Mary managed to recover some kind of enthusiastic demeanor. "Certainly, Celia, whatever I can do to help."

"Have you ever heard of a guy named Danton Majors? From Delta, rich real estate tyc.o.o.n, he's in town for that city planning meeting. You have anything unofficial on him?"