I, Panacea Pt 20 (Patreon)

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Vicky's phone rang; snatching it from her belt, she answered it, being careful not to punch her finger straight through it. She'd only done that a couple of times, but it had been intensely embarrassing. “Ames?” she asked breathlessly.

“No.” Vicky recognised her mother's voice immediately. “I received a call from Arcadia a short while ago. You have not yet shown up for class. As I understand that you are no longer at Winslow, where exactly are you?”

“Um …” Vicky looked around for inspiration. She was about a hundred feet in the air, on about her tenth lap around the Winslow campus, careful to stay outside the school boundaries, but never straying too far away from them. “I'm, uh, keeping watch.”

“Keeping watch over what?” Before she could even formulate an answer, her mother spoke again. “Are you outside Winslow High School?”

She stifled her immediate impulse to answer in the negative. “Uh, maybe?”

Her mother sighed. “What exactly are you achieving there, Victoria? Nothing can be done until the meeting, and that isn't for another few hours.”

Vicky set her jaw. “Mom, she's in Winslow. Three different gangs recruit from in there. If she calls for help, I'm going in, Principal Blackwell or no Principal Blackwell. Nobody messes with my sister.”

“Victoria, that's admirable, but -” Vicky frowned as she heard the ping of an incoming text.

“Hold on, Mom.” Taking the phone from her ear, she hit the speaker button so that she could still hear her mother's voice. “Got a text.”

“Who is it from?” Carol Dallon's voice was sharp.

“One … second.” Vicky double-tapped the notification, then entered the phone's PIN code. The text unfolded a moment later. “Shit. It's from Ames. 'T & me attacked by S Hess.'” Her eyes opened wide as she got the ramifications of that. “Shadow Stalker attacked them? I'm going in!”

“Wait -” But she didn't hear any more as she shut the call off and dialled her sister's number from memory. As she hit the last digit, she arrowed down toward the school front doors. Amy could be badly hurt. Fuck slowing down.

The front doors of Winslow were smashed off their hinges as she burst into the school, phone at her ear. “Ames? Ames? Talk to me!”

Amy's voice in her ear was a little nasal. “Vicky? Was that you?”

“Yeah, it's me. Where are you? I'm coming to you.”

“Wait a minute.” Amy's voice dropped, as if she were whispering into the phone. “Taylor says follow the bugs.”

In the heat of the moment, Vicky had forgotten that Taylor was actually Skitter, the bug controller who had knocked out Amy in the bank. Of course, since then she had learned a lot of things, some of which made her wonder about a few of her strongly-held views. She paused, looking around. “What bugs?”

“She says to look harder. They can see you, and bug senses suck.” She couldn't tell for sure, but it sounded like Amy was trying not to laugh.

A dozen flies buzzed past her face, and she turned; finally, she saw the bugs, clustering on the ceiling, forming a pathway. “Ah. Right. Got it.” Eyes on the ceiling, she shot away down the corridor.

It was weird, trying to navigate through a school that was one big block. Arcadia was a lot easier; so long as you knew which arm you were in, you were set. Taylor's bugs led her along corridors, up stairs and around corners until Vicky was wondering which way was north. Finally – in reality about one minute later, given that she was moving at a moderately unsafe speed for indoors – she turned a corner and saw Taylor waving her down.

Coming in for a landing next to the brunette, she realised two things; first, Taylor was actually a couple of inches taller than her, and second, the girl had blood all over her mouth, some of which had run down her chin and soaked into her top. She was also holding herself with one arm. “Shit, are you all right?” Vicky asked. “You look like hell.”

“Amy says the lip's nothing,” Taylor said, her voice a little mushy, probably due to her spit lips. “But I've got two fractured ribs, and she says the bruising's gonna be spectacular.”

“What? Why hasn't she fixed you?” Vicky's eyes went wide. “Shit, is she -”

 “She's fine,” Taylor hastened to say. “But if she heals me, there goes half our evidence. With this, we can have Sophia fucking Hess arrested and charged. Ward or otherwise.” Her eyes slitted behind her glasses. “And I'm not letting this opportunity go to waste.”   

The determination in her voice actually managed to impress Vicky, and there wasn't much that impressed Glory Girl any more. Taylor had to be in a certain amount of pain, but she wasn't giving in to it.

Vicky patted her encouragingly on the shoulder. “Right. Got it.” She paused, frowning. “Did they ever do anything like this before?”

“Punch me in the face?” Taylor shook her head. “No. Locker, yes. Stole my stuff, yes. But this time they were going all out to make me give up and go away.” She grinned, then winced as fresh blood oozed out of the splits in her lips. “Ow. But it turns out that Sophia really doesn't like being called a loser.”

Vicky hadn't really associated much with the vigilante-turned-Ward, but she could believe that. From all accounts, Shadow Stalker had a very forceful personality, and she took very little shit indeed. She nodded understandingly. “Uh, so where's Amy?”

Taylor nodded toward the door of the classroom she was standing outside of. “She's making sure nobody runs off.”

Vicky blinked. “Ames? Wow.” I really don't know her any more. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.

Within were a bunch of girls, Emma and Madison at the fore, with Julia hanging back a little. On the floor between them and Amy was Sophia Hess, out cold. Standing beside the doorway was Amy herself, with blood all over the lower half of her face and running into her t-shirt. She smiled at Vicky. “Hey. Took your time, Glory Girl.” Her voice was very nasal.

Vicky didn't miss how half the girls seemed to shrink back at Amy's comment. The other half, the ones who obviously already knew her, just looked a lot unhappier. They ain't seen unhappy yet.She dropped her voice menacingly. “Who hit my sister?” Her fists clenched as she flexed her aura just a little.

This time, there was no bullshit about 'assault with a parahuman power'. The girls all swayed back away from her, and everyone she could see pointed toward Sophia's supine form. Vicky shot an interrogatory glance toward Amy, although she knew they were telling the truth. “Is this true, Panacea?”

“It's true, Glory Girl,” Amy replied. “These girls didn't touch me. Although I did witness them bullying Taylor. So I'll want all of them coming to the principal's office for the meeting.” For someone with a possibly broken nose, she seemed to be remarkably cheerful.

“No, first off you'll be going to the school nurse to get checked out,” Vicky stated flatly. “Your nose busted?”

“Think so.” Amy touched it gingerly. “Ow. Next time I heal someone from one of these, I'm gonna be a lot more sympathetic.”

“Then don't touch it,” Vicky suggested, smug in the fact that nothing had even bruised her since she got her powers, three years previously. “Take Taylor and go let the nurse treat you. I got these pieces of shit.”

Amy nodded. She went to the door, then stopped. “Should we call Taylor's dad and Carol in on this now?”

Vicky grinned and hefted her phone. “You do that. I'll give Principal Blackwell the good news.”

“Right.” Amy tilted her head slightly. “What was that crash from before?”

“Front doors.” Vicky was already dialling. “You were in trouble. I wasn't about to let an inch of timber and a crappy lock stop me.” She nodded to the girls. “Call your parents. Pretty sure they're gonna get a phone call from Principal Blackwell about this.”

“And don't forget, this whole thing was recorded,” Amy put in. “So before you start getting creative, we already have that.”

“Wait, recorded?” Vicky raised her eyebrows. “How'd you pull that off?”

Amy told her. Vicky ended up laughing so hard she misdialled Principal Blackwell's number three times.

<><>

Danny Hebert got out of his car and closed the door. He looked around to see several other cars in the visitor carpark. A blonde woman whom he thought he should recognise approached him. “Hello? Are you Daniel Hebert?”

“I … yes?” Danny looked warily at her, then the penny dropped; it was the business attire which had thrown him off. “Uh, Brandish? I mean, Carol Dallon?”

“The same.” She smiled warmly and held out her hand.

He shook it gingerly – after all, the woman could generate a matter-annihilating blade with that hand – still not sure what was going on. “Is this a … superhero matter?” After all, he couldn't see what difference one superhero could do with Winslow. Except maybe to reduce it to a pile of rubble. Which would probably be an improvement.

“No. This is a lawyer matter.” She gave him a grim smile, then seemed to realise that he was still at sea. “You got a phone call from your daughter, correct?”

“Taylor, yes.” It had been a short call, and remarkably uninformative, except for certain relevant details. “She rang me earlier to tell me about the meeting this afternoon, then just a while ago to tell me that it'd been moved up. Said she was physically attacked by one of the students who's been bullying her.”

Carol Dallon nodded curtly. “Yes. The same student punched Panacea in the face. This, after she was notified that the meeting would take place. Minor or no, I'm going to take great pleasure in burying her.”

Danny raised his eyebrows at her tone. “Is this because Panacea's your daughter, because she's a member of New Wave, or because she's your team healer?”

Carol, looking somewhat startled, stared at him for a long moment. “That's … a very good question,” she admitted. “I'm going to go with 'yes'.”

Danny nodded understandingly. “I'd go the extra mile for one of my guys, too. Shall we go in?”

She tilted her head. “Let's do that.” As they walked toward the front of the building, she glanced at him. “How much has she told you about this meeting?”

“Not much,” he said. “Why?”

Her reply surprised the hell out of him. “So you don't know I'm supposed to be representing your daughter?”

He stopped dead, right there in the parking lot. “You … what the hell? No, nobody thought to give me that little detail. How the hell did that come about? And who's picking up the tab?”

She sighed. “My daughter is remarkably persuasive. Or maybe she just knew which buttons to press. After hearing about this Sophia Hess' actions, I … decided a little pro-bono work was in order. Also, I understand that my work colleague Alan Barnes will be weighing in on his daughter's side, so it's only fair that Taylor has competent representation as well.”

The surprises just weren't stopping. “Wait … you work with Alan? He never told me that.”

It was her turn to look startled. “You know him?” A moment later, her face cleared. “Oh, wait. Best friends.”

“Well, yeah,” Danny said. “Our daughters were basically inseparable from first grade on up. We've known each other … wait, Emma's being bullied too?”

She compressed her lips together. “It's my understanding that Alan's daughter is one of the ringleaders of the group.”

Danny's brain refused to even try to parse that. “Errr … what?”

“From what Victoria said, Emma Barnes used to be Taylor's best friend, but – in her words – turned around and stabbed her in the back.” Carol studied Danny's expression. “I gather that's news to you.”

Danny felt rage building inside him. “No shit it's news to me! I've had drinks with that asshole, and he never said one word about any issues Emma had with Taylor!” The sound of a car engine, overlaid by screeching tyres, drew his attention; turning, he saw a familiar car entering the parking lot. “Excuse me a moment.” He started forward with intent.

“Daniel! Stop!” He ignored her. “Stop, dammit!” He felt her grab his arm, even as Alan Barnes pulled into a nearby parking spot.

“Stay out of this,” he snapped, as he pulled his arm out of her grip. “This is between me and him.”

“No.” She took advantage of the momentary pause to step in front of him. “If you do anything rash now, Taylor will never get justice for what's been done to her.” Her words made him pause. “Before you say anything to him, stop and think. There's more at stake here than anything you've got against him. Trust me on this.”

Carol Dallon didn't resemble Danny's memory of Anne-Rose very closely, but her words resonated with what his wife might have said, once upon a time. He stopped, clenching his fists. “I just hate it when people get away with shit like that.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Her look showed perfect sympathy. “Look, speak to him if you have to, but don't say or do anything stupid. If I shut you up, you stay shut up, okay?”

“Okay.” The word came out from between gritted teeth, but Danny meant it. She's the expert. Better do what she says.

“Danny! What the hell's going on?” It was Alan Barnes. “Carol? You're here too? What the hell? When they said you blew out of there, I thought for sure there was some superhero stuff going on.”

Danny stalked over to him, trying not to clench his fists. “Alan. Emma called you, huh?”

“Yeah. She said something about Taylor trying to get her in trouble. What the hell's going on? I thought they were friends. What's Taylor trying to pull?”

The only thing that saved Danny from going back on his word was the look of honest confusion on Alan Barnes' face. “Taylor's trying to pull exactly nothing, Alan. Turns out that Emma's been the ringleader of the bullies that've been making her life hell for more than a year. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Alan stared at him, confusion and anger warring on his face. “Danny? What the hell? I thought we were friends! How can you say something like that?”

“Because -” Danny began, before Carol nudged him. He stopped, turning to her. “What?”

“Mr Hebert, I'm advising you to say nothing more until we're sitting down in the meeting,” Carol stated; despite his anger, Danny could not help but take note of the formal tone of her voice. “Mr Barnes, I will be representing Taylor Hebert and her father in this situation. Please address anything you have to say to me.”

Alan stared at her. “ … Carol? What the hell?” Bafflement won out over everything else. “What are you talking about?”

Her voice held pure satisfaction. “I'm talking about putting an end to a situation that should have been long since resolved.” Turning toward the school, she gestured to Danny. “We should be going in.”

Danny followed; they hadn't even crossed half of the parking lot before Alan Barnes passed them, striding fast. He climbed the steps and disappeared inside. Danny turned to Carol. “Should we be keeping up?”

She shook her head, not increasing her pace in the slightest. “No. Victoria knows her legalities. He won't catch her out in anything before we get there. And this gives us the chance to confer before the meeting. Is there anything that you do know about this?”

He frowned, thinking about her words. “Well, now that you mention it, Taylor called me a little earlier. She wanted the number of this guy I know, who runs the local radio station.”

She looked a little puzzled. “Radio station? How would that help?”

Danny had been pondering that himself. “Well, if there's anything radio stations have, it would be recording gear. I'm wondering if they didn't simultaneously arrange an outside witness and a recording in a secure place.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “If they managed to pull that off, I would be very impressed. Any sort of corroborating evidence is extremely useful in a situation like this.” She climbed the stairs with Danny alongside her. “I presume you know the way to the principal's office?”

“Yeah.” He tried to keep the sourness from his voice. “Though I wish I didn't.” He stopped, staring at the open doorway. “Whoa. What happened here?”

She stepped forward, eyeing the shattered doors, lying in pieces on the floor. “I would say,” she decided in a judicious tone, “that Glory Girl came through here and didn't bother stopping to open the doors first.”

Impressed, he blinked. “Damn. I hope she doesn't do the same at home?”

“Thankfully, no.” She smiled faintly. “Although I will be having words with her regarding appropriate levels of collateral damage. Again.”

“Again?” He looked at her curiously as he picked his way through the remains of the doors. “She's done this recently?”

Yesterday, in fact,” Carol said. “You may recall the robbery and cape fight at the Central Bank? She decided to go in through the window.  And once she was inside, just for effect, she destroyed one of the desks.”  

Danny blinked again. If he recalled correctly, the Brockton Bay Central Bank had windows that didn't open, and the desks were built out of marble. “That's a really good trick.”

“Indeed.” Her voice was dry. “Fortunately, New Wave isn't being billed for it. Unfortunately, I had to endure being spoken to by Director Piggot at length on the subject, an experience I would rather not repeat any time soon.”

“Hmm.” He raised his eyebrows. “It rather puts other acts of teenage misjudgement into perspective, doesn't it?”

Carol suddenly looked thoughtful. “That's an … interesting way to put it.”

“Heh.” He gave her a half-grin. “I'm the single father of a teenage girl. 'Interesting' is not a word I'd rather have connected with her.”

She gave him an appraising nod. “As a mother myself, I'm inclined to agree. As a superhero and the mother of same, I'm afraid that ship has long since sailed.”

“Heh.” He tried to hold the chuckle in, but it was too late. “Well, I guess that's one thing I don't have to worry about with Taylor. Being a superhero and a celebrity, I mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you so much for your sympathy.”

Hiding a smile, he sketched a half-bow toward her. “You're welcome.”

She snorted, but he thought he saw an answering smile anyway.

<><>

Half an Hour Later

Taylor squeezed her father's hand. She essayed a smile in his direction, but didn't make it too wide; her lip wasn't bleeding any more, but the nurse had told her to be careful with it until it healed. There was nothing to do for her top, and her father had come straight from work, so the huge bloodstain was still there. She had rinsed it out in the bathroom and Vicky had wrung it out so that it was nearly dry – that was an application for super-strength that she'd never thought of – so it wasn't clammy on her skin, but she was still going to throw it away as soon as she got home.

 Panacea – she still had trouble thinking of the frizzy-haired girl as Amy – was sitting to her left, with an aluminum splint on her nose.  Glory Girl sat on her other side, with Carol Dallon – Brandish! - sitting to Glory Girl's right.   

Despite her powers, she was glad that she and her father had the heroes on her side. Especially Panacea, and the healer's odd passenger. Because across the table, both literally and figuratively, they had several times their number facing them. Front and centre were Emma, a groggy-looking Sophia, and Madison, flanked by their fathers. Or, in Sophia's case, a woman whom Taylor assumed was a social worker. Despite her unsteadiness, Sophia was alternating between glaring at Panacea and Taylor, while Emma looked bewildered, as if she were trying to figure out exactly where things had gone wrong. Madison just looked as though she wished everything would go away.

Panacea tilted her head slightly. Taylor knew the signs; if she was right, the healer had just gotten a message from her 'passenger'. Panacea turned to her sister and began a whispering conversation, too low for Taylor to hear.

“Ahem.” Principal Blackwell said the word instead of actually clearing her throat. “It seems that this is all who will be attending. Let's begin.”

“Uh, before we do,” Glory Girl said. “I just need to have a word with Mom and Sophia's social worker in the hall. It'll only take a moment.” She flashed Blackwell a quick smile.

The principal, on the other hand, frowned forbiddingly. “The time for a conference is past. And besides, Miss …?”

“Bright,” the woman replied. She was blonde, with a heart-shaped face. From the attitude Sophia showed her, the girl didn't think much of her social worker. Miss Bright didn't seem to care one way or the other. “Ms Bright, actually.”

“Bright, yes. Ms Bright is representing Sophia Hess, whom you are accusing of bullying practices. What possible use could this conference have?” If Principal Blackwell frowned any harder, Taylor thought her face just might crack.

Brandish turned to Glory Girl. “Is it important?”

“Yeah. Definitely. It's something that needs to be talked over in private.” She shot a glare at Sophia. “You don't want this being aired publicly.”

A subtle change went over both Sophia and her social worker at that point, and Taylor thought she knew what it was. Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker. She already knew that part. Whatever Glory Girl wants to talk about has to do with her cape identity. Another puzzle piece slotted into place. Panacea told her to talk about it. But Panacea hasn't spoken to anyone. She must've gotten it from Security.

Brandish had obviously received the same subtle hint that Taylor had picked up on. “I think it might be a good idea to see what's going on here.” She rose. “Ms Bright, if you can join us outside, please? Will this take long, Victoria?”

“What's going on here?” Alan Barnes didn't look any more thrilled than Sophia did. “If you think you can coerce or intimidate her -”

“Oh, be quiet, Alan,” Brandish snapped. “I have no more idea of what this is about than you do. But Glory Girl thinks it's important, so we're going to do it.” She moved to the door. Glory Girl got up and followed her, with a reluctant-looking Ms Bright bringing up the rear.

The door closed behind them, and silence descended once more on the room. Principal Blackwell began a quiet conversation with Taylor's teachers; while she was tempted to guide insects over to listen in, she still had a lot of trouble understanding human voices when heard by bug ears.

“Taylor …” That was Alan Barnes. “I don't even know what this is about. Surely we can settle all this quietly? Whatever you think Emma's done, or she thinks you've done, an apology should deal with it, right?”

Her father snorted. “I told you what this was about in the parking lot, Alan. Emma's been tormenting Taylor for more than a year. This is more than 'apology' territory.”

Alan's eyes narrowed. “That's a serious allegation, Danny. I hope you've got more proof than her unsupported word.”

Panacea cleared her throat hastily. “Mr Hebert, don't say anything until Brandish comes back.” Her voice was still a little nasal.

Taylor squeezed his hand again. “She's right, Dad. Mrs Dallon is helping us out. Don't ignore her help.”

Her father pressed his lips together, and nodded once. “I'm going to wait for Brandish to return before we address that,” he stated flatly.

From outside the door came Ms Bright's raised voice. “You what?”

All heads turned toward the door; a moment later, it opened. Glory Girl leaned in and beckoned. “Ames. Need you out here a second.”

Panacea nodded and got up. She turned toward Taylor and her father. “Remember. Not a word.” With that warning, she headed for the door and stepped outside, closing it behind her.

 Nobody spoke after that; Taylor was pretty sure that everyone – including her – was trying hard to hear what was being said.  Even with bugs on site, all she could really hear was a low mumble of voices, punctuated at one point by Ms Bright once more. “How do you know that?”   

However, following that tantalising tidbit, the door opened again and they filed back to their seats. Ms Bright was looking beaten-down, as if she had just heard bad news. Panacea and Brandish looked a little brighter than before, and Glory Girl was positively radiating smugness. Brandish leaned forward a little, and gestured toward Principal Blackwell. “We can begin now.”

“As I was saying,” Alan Barnes interjected, before Blackwell could even speak, “Miss Hebert has accused my daughter Emma of tormenting her for more than a year. That's a serious allegation. I'd like to see some proof.” Taylor noted that he hadn't used her name. Lawyer tricks. Asshole.

“Before we get carried away here, Alan,” Brandish stated smoothly, “this is not a courtroom. You can refer to Taylor by her given name. Also, we're not working with 'beyond reasonable doubt' here. Any evidence is serious enough to work with.” She turned to Taylor. “You do have evidence.” Her tone indicated that she strongly hoped Taylor had evidence.

“Yeah. I got evidence.” Taylor reached into her backpack, which had resided between her knees all this time, and hauled out the stack of papers she had been painstakingly adding to since September. Lifting it into the air slightly, she let it smack down on to the table. It made a respectable thump.

Brandish's eyebrows ratcheted upward at the thickness of the stack. “That's all … incidents?”

“Some.” Taylor sorted through the papers and pulled some off the top. “Hate mail from my school inbox.” She flicked a glance toward the head of the table. “Principal Blackwell knows about these already.” From the look on Principal Blackwell's face, the woman wished that Taylor had forgotten to mention them. Fat chance.

Brandish took out a pair of glasses and put them on, then took the smaller stack and riffled through it. “Die in a fire … eat glass and die horribly … I hope someone shoves a broken bottle up your – good God.” Lifting her gaze, she stared directly at Blackwell. “Ms Blackwell, this right here is evidence for an ongoing malicious campaign to drive Taylor here into depression and maybe suicide. I've seen more happen from less.”

“Be that as it may, you can't prove that any of the girls here sent those mails,” Alan Barnes interjected. “Isn't that right, Principal Blackwell?”

“Wait,” Taylor said. “I highlighted the ones that were sent during school hours.”

Blackwell looked sideways at Mrs Knott. “Gladys? Your opinion?”

Mrs Knott looked unhappy about being put on the spot. “If … if the girls left their computers logged in, someone else could have sent the messages with their usernames.”

“They could have, yes,” murmured Brandish. “I'd be interested in seeing what a cross-reference of the exact times each one of these mails was sent with the class times of each of these girls would bring up.” She raised an eyebrow at the surprised look on Blackwell's face. “And you hadn't thought of having someone do that? For shame. That's a lawsuit right there. Total negligence and lack of care for one of your students. And let's see what we've got here. Taylor?”

“Here.” Taylor handed over the thicker stack. “That's since last September. I only started noting it down then.”

Brandish took the top sheet off the stack. “Let's see now. September eight. 'Six vicious emails, Sophia pushed me down stairs when I was near bottom, making me drop books, tripped and shoved me three times during gym, threw my clothes at me while I was in shower after gym, got them wet. Had to wear gym clothes for rest of morning. In bio -'” She paused. “I presume this is biology class?”

Taylor nodded. “Sorry about the abbreviations. I wanted to save space.”

“Understood.” She adjusted her glasses. “Hmm. 'In biology class, Madison used every excuse to use pencil sharpener or talk to teacher, each time she passed desk, she pushed everything on floor. Third time, I covered stuff, so on fourth trip, she dumped pencil shavings on my head and desk. All three cornered me after school -'” Again, she paused. “'All three' being … ?”

“Those three.” Taylor pointed. “Emma, Sophia, Madison.”

“Hey!” Emma looked upset. “She can't just accuse us -”

“Yes, she actually can.” Brandish gave her a severe look. “This is what's called a reckoning, young lady. And it appears long overdue in your case.”

“Carol, you're my colleague …” began Alan Barnes.

“Shut up, Alan,” she interrupted. “I'm looking over evidence here. Right. 'All three' being Emma, Sophia and Madison. Let me see … 'All three cornered me after school, took backpack, threw it in garbage.'” She stared at Taylor, then at the sheet of paper. “How many of these are there?”

Taylor took a deep breath. “About one for every day since then. That got me more hate mail too. Principal Blackwell knows how many times I've had to change my inbox.”

“Hmm.” Brandish looked at the next entry. “September ninth -”

“Wait, wait -” said Blackwell hastily. “Do you have to read every single one? We'll be here all night.”

“You do realise, in a real court case, we would actually have to read every single one of these out in front of the magistrate or the jury?” Brandish asked sweetly. “How would your school look at the end of that? Let me give you a hint. Not good. However, I'm willing to accept your acknowledgement that Taylor's bullying has been overlooked to an unconscionable degree.” Her smile showed teeth. “That's code for 'get out your checkbook and brace yourselves, because this payout's going to draw blood'. Just saying.”

Blackwell didn't look happy. She looked even less happy when Taylor's father cleared his throat. Brandish looked his way. “Yes, Mr Hebert?”

He squared his shoulders. “There was an incident at the beginning of the year -”

“That was settled!” snapped Blackwell. “You signed papers!”

“I was under duress!” Taylor's father shot back. “Taylor needed urgent medical care, and your shysters were holding a lawsuit over my head for her attacking the people who let her out of the locker!”

Brandish cleared her throat, quieting the room. “I'd like very much to see those papers, if I may. Also, a complete explanation of the incident you're referring to would be appreciated.”

Taylor caught her eye. “I can do it in thirty seconds or less.” When Brandish nodded, she went on, ticking points off on her fingers. “Before Christmas, someone filled my locker with feminine hygiene products. Come January, I got locked in there for an hour. I spent a week in the mental ward.” She hated to even think about it, but the way Brandish was talking, she wanted to pull the whole school down around Blackwell's ears, and Taylor wasn't against the idea.

“What the hell?” burst out Glory Girl. “I've seen those lockers. How did you even fit in one?”

“It took a pretty hard shove,” Taylor replied, glaring at Sophia. The dark-skinned girl glowered back, but kept her mouth shut.

“Now, now,” Blackwell said hastily. “There's no proving who put you in there, and the girls are already going to be punished for standing by and letting it happen.”

“That's as may be,” Brandish noted, “but seriously? An hour? How the hell does that even fly? I really, really want to see those papers you coerced Mr Hebert into signing. And if I don't see them, I might just start a class action against the whole school on their behalf. Because the settlement is going to be insane.”

Principal Blackwell was looking sicker by the moment. “I'll get them to you as soon as possible,” she mumbled.

“Good.” Brandish turned her gaze to the girls across the table. “Now for you.”

“Carol.” Alan Barnes leaned forward. “I've tolerated this far enough. You've got your pound of flesh. There's no actual proof that any of these girls are directly to blame for tormenting Taylor, just the written word and some pretty shaky circumstantial evidence. We can get up and walk away now.”

Carol shook her head. “Oh, Alan. I've only just gotten started.” She looked at Panacea. “Who attacked you and Taylor?”

“Sophia Hess.” Panacea pointed across the table. “She punched Taylor and knocked her down. When she was on top of Taylor, punching her, I tried to pull her off. She punched me then and broke my nose, so I defended myself with my powers and made her go to sleep.”

Sophia nearly came out of her seat, but Ms Bright's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Brandish turned to Taylor. “Is this true?”

Taylor nodded, touching her split lip. “Yes. She punched me and knocked me down. The nurse examined me and said I had fractured ribs. That's where Sophia landed on me with her knees.”

Brandish looked at Principal Blackwell. “I understand you said Taylor would be safe in school. Yet despite Panacea's attendance, she was attacked and brutally beaten by one of your star athletes? How did you ever let this get so far, that the Hess girl felt confident in doing this?”

“Oh, it wasn't just her,” Panacea said. “Every one of these girls was there. Nobody tried to stop her.”

“I tried to stop her!” Emma burst out. Then, as if realising what she'd just said, she ducked her head. “I mean, I would have if I was there,” she added.

“Which is it?” asked Brandish. “Were you there, or not?”

Alan Barnes leaned in and murmured something; his voice was quiet, but Taylor was pretty sure he was advising her to say no.

She was hardly surprised when Emma raised her chin, looked Brandish in the eye and stated firmly, “I wasn't there. Wherever 'there' was.”

“I can prove they were there,” Panacea stated equally boldly. “Including Emma.”

“I hope this is a proof that we can all share in,” Alan Barnes observed. “Saying 'my powers say so' isn't actually applicable in a court of law yet.”

Panacea smiled. She pulled her phone out and selected a number. Sophia tensed, glaring at Panacea as though her gaze alone could prevent the healer from pushing that last button. With a tap of the 'speaker' icon, she placed the phone on the table in front of her.

“Hey, girlie.” The voice that came out of the speaker was the same pack-a-day rasp as Taylor recalled. “Was wonderin' when you were gonna call.”

Alan Barnes frowned. “Who is that? I know that voice.”

“Yeah, an' I know you too, Barnes. You still cheatin' honest workin' men outta their life savings?” The voice coughed, then went on. “Hah! If I'd known it was your girl on the tape, I woulda done it for free. Well, if I wasn't doin' it for free anyway.”

Taylor's father straightened up in his seat, and he smiled. “Joe, you old miscreant. I've been meaning to catch up. I'm guessing you did a little recording job for Taylor? Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Hah! Danny Hebert. Good to hear from you, stringbean. Got it in one. You're gonna owe me a drink over this.”

“And that's a debt I'm willing to pay any time,” Taylor's dad agreed. “But right now, you've got us all very curious about the contents of the recording you made.”

“Wait!” Alan Barnes held up his hand, palm out. “Recordings made without the consent of the person being recorded are inadmissible in court.”

“And for the tenth time, Alan, this isn't a courtroom.” Carol leaned forward, her eyes glittering over the tops of her glasses. “Rules of evidence don't apply here. Sit down, shut up, and listen. Or I will by God carve your new sports car into two-foot cubes and claim it as supervillain damage.”

Shocked, the red-headed man sat back in his chair. Carol turned back to the phone. “Sorry about that. Kindly proceed.”

“Dang, lady, you got a temper on you. I like it.” Joe paused. “Wait. Am I talking to Brandish?”

“You are,” she confirmed. “I'm impressed. I don't think we've ever met.”

“Sure we have. You took out some radio ads back when you were just kickin' off New Wave. I never forget a voice. Or a smokin' hot blonde, but that's another thing altogether. Anyway. The recording. I cleaned it up pretty good, if I do say so myself. Figure the cops could even get voiceprints off it if they felt like it.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, here goes.”

There were some clicks on the line. Brandish sat back, looking somewhat taken aback. Taylor thought she heard a snicker from Vicky. The noise from the phone cut dead air to her own voice. “Sophia. Why can't you leave me alone? I just want to get to class.”

Sophia's voice cut in then, so sharp and alive that everyone in the room glanced at the dark-skinned girl. “Are you telling me what to do, cunt? Are you giving me orders?”

As the recording rolled on, every syllable crystal-clear, everyone listened. All around the room, expressions darkened at each insult. Even the huff of breath as Sophia punched Taylor in the stomach came through clearly.

Finally, Panacea's voice came through clearly. “So, did you get all that?”

With a click, the recording ended, then Joe came on the line. “That what you needed?”

“That's exactly what we needed, uh, Joe,” said Carol. “Thank you very much for your time.”

“Hey, my pleasure. Remind Danny that he owes me a beer, and if you wanna buy more airtime, feel free to drop in any time. Bye, now.” The phone went dead.

“Well, then.” Taylor's father looked directly at Principal Blackwell. “It does seem that Taylor's being bullied by these girls, doesn't it?” The satisfaction in his voice was bone-deep. She hadn't seen him looking so grimly pleased in a very long time.

“Wait.” Alan Barnes looked like a drowning man scrabbling for a lifeline. “That sounded like a setup. Like you walked up to them and invited them to talk to you like that. There could be a case made for entrapment.”

Carol Dallon rolled her eyes. “Oh, for God's sake, Alan. This is not a courtroom. We all heard your daughter on that recording insulting Taylor and saying that she's outgrown her.”

“You also recorded her and the others without their permission,” Alan said flatly. “That's something we could sue over.”

“You could,” Carol agreed. “But your daughter, on that recording, also explicitly threatens Taylor with frivolous litigation. In fact, she references you while making that threat. All I'd have to do is play this to any judge in private, and your lawsuit would be gone, and you may very well find yourself answering to the Bar. Now, unless you want a lawsuit directed specifically at your daughter for damages, shut the hell up. The adults are talking.”

Paler than normal, Alan Barnes sat back again. Principal Blackwell cleared her throat hesitantly. “So … I presume you have suggestions.”

“Yes.” Panacea's voice was flat. “You start proceedings to have Taylor transferred to Arcadia.” Blackwell began to protest, but Panacea just talked over her. “I don't give a crap about red tape. Pull every string you've got and get it done. Taylor Hebert is specifically and manifestly not safe in this hellhole you laughably call an institute of higher education. This is not a request. This is not a suggestion. You will do it, or I'm pretty sure the lawsuit my mother will bring to bear will bankrupt both the school and you personally.”

Taylor stared at Panacea, and she wasn't the only one. Glory Girl was regarding her sister with an odd expression on her face. All of a sudden, she realised what was going on. Panacea wasn't the one who was speaking.

“ … I'll see what I can do,” Blackwell conceded. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes.” Panacea pointed at the girls. “All of the girls except Sophia Hess will undergo in-school suspension for the rest of the school year.”

“What?” blurted Madison. “Why doesn't she get punished?”

“Because she's under arrest at this moment.” Carol Dallon took over, sounding very pleased. “She'll be handed over to the proper authorities and charged. Two counts of assault and battery, plus one of grievous bodily harm. We'll be looking into more charges as they come up.”

“What?” Sophia spat the word out, then turned to her social worker. “They can't do that! Tell them!”

Ms Bright shook her head. “It's out of my hands. You're best off submitting to arrest.”

“Yeah,” Panacea put in. “You need to get it through your head, Sophia. We were on to you the moment you walked through the doors this morning. Everything you thought you were going to do, we knew ahead of time. Every move you made, we were two steps ahead.” She paused to let it settle in. “You lose.”

With a scream of inarticulate rage, Sophia launched herself across the table at the teenage healer. Taylor braced herself to watch the track star being brought low again. Not very much to her surprise, before Sophia quite reached Panacea, there was a blur in the air and a loud crack. Sophia spun around and fell awkwardly off the table, landing in a pile on the floor. Teeth and speckles of blood decorated the table in front of Taylor, almost all the way up to where Blackwell sat. Taylor looked around to see Glory Girl still poised in mid-air over the table, shielding Panacea with her body, fist extended.

“And that,” remarked Glory Girl, “is why you don't punch my sister. Bitch.”

Panacea stood up. “Thanks, sis,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Hey, what are sisters for?” replied Glory Girl with an answering grin.

Panacea just grinned back, and strolled around to where Sophia lay on the ground. Leaning down, she touched the girl's cheek. “Nice punch,” she reported. “You broke her cheekbone and jaw, and knocked twelve teeth out. But she'll live. And eat solid food. Eventually.” Straightening up again, she stretched. “Well, I think we're about done here.”

Alan Barnes stared at her. “Aren't you going to heal her?”

Panacea snorted, then winced. “She busted my nose. Why should I? Let her heal the old-fashioned way.” Whistling a tune that Taylor didn't recognise, she strolled toward the door. “Coming, Taylor? I understand the Boardwalk's great, this time of day.”

Taylor felt a huge smile spreading across her face. “Am I.” Halfway to her feet, she turned to her father. “Can I go, Dad?”

He looked at her, then shrugged and smiled. “Why not? I think you've earned it.”

“You're the best.” Giving him a quick hug, she headed for the door.

“Cool,” Glory Girl said. “I'm coming too.”

Carol shook her head. “No, you're not. You and I are going to talk about the correct way of opening doors, young lady.”

“Wait,” said Blackwell. “What do you mean -”

The door closed behind them. Taylor didn't care any more. There would be more problems to face, but right now she didn't have a care in the world.

Side by side with Panacea – Amy – she headed out of Winslow. Hopefully for the last time.

And good fucking riddance. 

Part 21