Wyvern Pt 10 (Patreon)

I stared at her, letting out a startled squawk. My wing was draped around her shoulders, which normally I wouldn't have been able to reach in my draconic form without stretching to my tip-toes. How did I not notice this before?

“Hey, calm down,” she said hastily. “There's probably a perfectly normal explanation for this.”

This time, I gave her a very dry look; despite the difference between my human face and my Wyvern face, she picked up on it without any difficulty at all.

“Okay, fine,” she admitted. “There's not much about this situation that's normal.”

Thank you. With another screech, which may or may not have conveyed that thought, I stretched my wings out and leaped into the air. Vicky followed, keeping up with ease.

“Where are you going?” she called out.

I couldn't really shrug while flying, so I let out a non-committal squawk. Somewhere I can figure this out.

“Sorry,” she said, “I must've left my Wyvern-Human dictionary in my other costume. Can you be a bit clearer?”

I couldn't talk, and I didn't feel like acting out charades to get my message across, so I turned my attention to flying. To my gratitude, Vicky didn't push it. She merely flew alongside me as I flapped steadily across Brockton Bay.

It was going to take a little while to reach my chosen destination, but I didn't mind. I had a lot to think about, including what I was going to say once I returned to human form. If I even could. Oh god, what if this size change stops me from ever turning back?

The city stretched out below us, skeins of street lights making the place almost beautiful. I wished that I was down there, mundanely human, instead of up here, trying to run away from my problems. Given that my problems were part and parcel with my powers, the odds of me pulling this off were between zero and none, but I was still willing to give it a shot.

The sound of electronic tapping interrupted my thoughts; I looked over to see that Vicky was texting on her phone while flying on her back, not even looking where she was going. I screeched at her.

“What?” She looked up from her phone. “What's the matter?”

I nodded toward her phone, then pointedly turned my head to look forwards.

It took her a couple of seconds to catch on, then she laughed and rolled over in the air so that she was at least facing the same way as me. “Oh, that? I knew you wouldn't let me fly into anything.”

She was right, but I still thought she was being very irresponsible. My squawk might have conveyed that, but I wasn't sure.

To my relief, she didn't do anything like that again, although she did keep texting. Finally, she put the phone away and gave me a beaming smile. “I was just letting Mom and Ames know we were going for a flight. I haven't told them about the size change yet.”

I chirped in relief; it was something that I would rather have told them myself. First, though, I wanted to try to deal with it on my own. With Vicky there to help, of course; I was reasonably sure that I wouldn't be able to make her go away. Even if I wanted to.

Finally, our destination loomed ahead. It was further than I had ever flown before, but while my shoulder muscles were burning slightly, I felt that I could have kept going if necessary.

There was nobody in the carpark for the Captain's Hill observation area, for which I was profoundly grateful. The last thing I wanted or needed was for someone to post photos of me on to PHO or something before I had my size issues resolved. Flapping my wings, I came in for a landing on the observation area, putting down my 'elbows' to prop myself up as Glory Girl touched down beside me.

“Okay, let's see if that was a temporary thing,” she said brightly. I straightened up as much as I was able in that form. To my dismay, she was still half a head shorter than me. I let out a sound of dismay.

“Hey, hey, it'll be all right,” she assured me. “We'll get through this. We're friends, right? We'll work it out together.”

Friends.

I had to stop and think about it. We were definitely more than just fellow capes or even teammates. Vicky had, in her own inimitable fashion, gone above and beyond for me. From the moment that she'd found out that I was more than just a scary monster, she'd done her best to help me solve my problems. Sure, she'd had a lot of laughs over my mishaps, but she'd never been cruel or vindictive.

It was hard for me to take in. I hadn't had an actual friend for … more than a year. And to gain one through a malicious act engineered by my last best friend … it was hard for me to get my head around that. It had been so long since anyone who wasn't my dad had even cared.

“Hey, you're shaking. Are you all right? You're not cold, are you?”

I raised my head and looked into Vicky's concerned eyes. If I could cry in that form, I would have, but instead I was shaking, with my wings wrapped around me. I shook my head. No, I'm not cold.

“Then what's the matter, Taylor?”

I couldn't answer her with words, so I just shook my head again. Even if I'd been human, I probably wouldn't have been able to give her a coherent reply. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with this.

A pair of arms, far stronger than they should have been, wrapped around me, wings and all. I let out a startled chirp, but she didn't stop hugging me. “Hey,” she soothed me. “Hey, hey. It's all right. You're going to be all right. 'Cause Glory Girl is here, and that's what I do.”

I managed a series of chirps approximating laughter, but the truth was that I was feeling better. The hug was just what I needed to get my head in order and stop the thoughts spinning around at a thousand miles an hour. I began to relax, little by little.

That was when she turned her aura up. From enjoying what could have been a totally awkward hug but wasn't, I went straight into everything is awesome! land. Vicky was my friend, and that was more than okay, it was terrific. All of my worries and angst about my size change melted away, because Vicky was there and she was amazing and everything was gonna be just okay, and …

I was crying. I realised that, after a moment. I was holding on to Vicky with my arms, and I was crying into Vicky's shoulder, and she was patting me on the back and saying something soothing in my ear.

The aura toned back down to its normal almost-not-there background buzz, and I pulled away from Vicky slightly. “Wait, did you just make me turn back with your aura?”

She nodded, grinning broadly. “I figured, if we can turn you into the wyvern with my aura, we should be able to make you turn back with it too. And it worked. High-five!” She held up her hand.

I smiled through the tears still on my cheeks and gave her the high-five. After all, she had kind of earned it. “It definitely did,” I agreed. “And wow, your aura's really powerful this close. How the hell do you not have legions of adoring fans sending you love letters by the metric ton?”

She gave me a conspiratorial grin. “Maybe I do. You never know. But I think your wyvern form's more susceptible to it or something. You definitely seem to react more strongly when you're in that shape, anyway.”

Swiping tears from my eyes, I nodded. “Well, thanks. And sorry for crying on you.”

“Pfft,” she said, waving away my apology. “You were kinda worried and stressed out. And hey! You're back to normal size again!”

I blinked, then opened the pouch holding my glasses. Unfortunately, the fight had not been kind to them; I guessed that it was the close-up explosion that had left the lenses in pieces. All I knew for certain was that when I pulled the glasses out, they didn't have much glass left in them.

“Geez, wow,” Vicky observed when she saw this. “Sorry about that. That's gotta suck.”

“Yeah, well, it's not like I'm gonna need them to fly back with, right?” I said, trying to put a brave face on matters. “Anyway, I can tell that I'm back to normal without them. You're still shorter than me, but not any shorter than usual.”

She made a rude noise. “Just because you're built like a giraffe on steroids ...”

I snorted. “Giraffe on steroids? Really?”

“Hey, gimme a break. Normally I get more time to think up my zingers.”

Shaking my head fondly, I draped my arm over her shoulders. “Well, I appreciate you sticking by me. And I really appreciate you as a friend. I haven't got many others. Well, apart from Amy, I haven't really got any other friends.”

“Yeah, well, I'd like to punch Winslow in its stupid face for pulling all that crap on you,” she muttered.

“Who?” I asked, interested. “Blackwell, Emma, or Sophia?”

“Yes,” she retorted.

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh out loud. “Not that I wouldn't love to see any or all of them get punched in the face repeatedly, but I'm pretty sure that doing anything like that would screw up the case that your mom's preparing.”

She sighed. “Yeah, you're right.”

I ruffled her hair playfully. “Cheer up. I'm sure we can find someone else for you to punch in the face if we really try.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she said. “You up for any more night-time shenanigans, or should we head home?”

“Well, home, I guess,” I said. “Dad can pick me up from your place. But first, we've got that other thing to do.”

“Other thing?” she asked.

“Find out if the size change was permanent or temporary,” I reminded her. “And what happens if I keep sizing up each time I get into a fight? Pretty soon, even Parian's costumes won't fit me in both forms.”

“Ugh.” She grimaced. “You make a good point. Unwelcome, but good.”

I sighed. “Okay, I think I've stalled enough. Time to kick this over.”

“Need me to force it for you?” she asked; I could feel her aura starting to ramp up.

“No,” I said, shaking my head hastily. “I need to learn to do this as fast as possible, and I won't always have you around.”

“Okay, good point,” she agreed. The aura eased back down again.

I turned away from her, suddenly aware that the rough gravel was hurting my feet. Come on, I told myself. I can do this. I've done it before. It was true, and I knew it. I just didn't want to do it.

Come on, I told myself. I've got to stress myself to make the change. Stop wimping out.

The prospect wasn't fun, but eventually I managed to force myself to bite the bullet and concentrate on the memories and feelings that I needed to experience. Closing my eyes, I clenched my fists until the nails bit into my palms.

It was ironic, some corner of my mind reflected bitterly even as I tried to focus on the Change. Super-powers were supposed to make your life easier. Popular culture said so. But I had gotten mine through an act of supreme cruelty, and to even access them, I had to force myself to recall and relive the worst experiences of my life. So much for making things better. I wondered if that had ever been true for any cape. Or if I would ever be truly free of the torments that had put me where I was.

Opening my eyes, I turned toward Vicky to ask her where she stood on the matter, but all that came out of my mouth was a curious chirp. Once more, I had managed to Change without even noticing that I had done so.

"Woo!" Vicky gave me a thumbs-up. "Normal size. Nicely done."

I hadn't actually done anything, but I preened just a little anyway. I had to admit, I was somewhat relieved; the prospect of my wyvern form growing ever larger with no end in sight was somewhat daunting, to say the least. But now I was looking up at Vicky, due to the unavoidable stooped posture of the wyvern form. It was amazing what I was beginning to find comfortably familiar.

I raised my wrist-joint to her in a kind of high-five; she grinned and slapped it. My return grin was extremely toothy, accompanied by a chirp of triumph. Now that I was back to normal size, I found that I wasn't worried so much about enlarging during fights. All I have to do is Change back to human, then to wyvern when I'm not in danger. No biggie.

"So, race you back home?" Vicky's eyes were alight with mischief.

I gave her a rude noise in return. Like I could ever beat you.

"Okay, okay," she conceded. “We'll fly back together. But if we spot any bad guys, I've got dibs, all right?”

I rolled my eyes. So greedy.

“Well?” she pressed.

Snorting with amusement, I nodded, then chirped in agreement. Fine. But if any get away, they're mine.

“Cool! Let's go!”

She lofted into the air and arrowed down into the darkness overlaying Brockton Bay. She was quickly out of sight, or would have been if I'd been dependent on ordinary light. However, as I had already discovered, I could see some distance into the infra-red, which revealed her to me as if she was lit up like a halogen lamp.

Flapping my wings hard, I took to the air myself and let myself fall into a swooping glide down the face of Captain's Hill. I couldn't match Vicky's pace, but I could certainly follow her; the night wind felt soothing as it keened over my wings. Glancing over her shoulder, Vicky slowed down, letting me catch up with her.

As I slid up alongside her, I let out a disapproving squawk. Not fair! You said we wouldn't race!

“Sorry,” she called back. “I kinda got carried away for a moment.” Her teeth shone white in the moonlight. “I'm not about to leave my partner behind, after all.”

Partners. The warm feeling lasted me all the way back to the Dallon household.

<><>

“Are you all right?”

That was Dad's greeting for me when he came in the front door. Not 'how are you?' or 'good to see you' but 'are you all right?'.

I was a little torn between irritation – I can take care of myself! - and happiness that he actually cared. Of the two, I wanted to go with happiness, so I did. Plastering a smile across my face, I hugged him.

“Of course I'm all right, Dad. I've got Glory Girl backing me up, and Panacea making sure that I'm always in tip-top condition.”

<><>

I wasn't actually exaggerating much there; Amy had more or less ambushed me, even before I'd managed to change back to human form, to make sure that I was healthy. It turned out that I was indeed in top form, so much so that she managed to look slightly disappointed.

“I saw the aftermath of the battle on TV,” she complained after I was changed, dressed and we were sitting on the sofa. “There was lots of damage. How can you have gone through all of that without a scratch? Especially with your costume in that shape?”

I blushed a little. The costume hadn't been that badly damaged, and it had covered what it needed to cover, but I had still arrived at the house showing more skin than I was used to. “Um, Vicky and I have a theory that I regenerate. Especially between Changes.”

“And that's another thing!” she blurted. “You altered your Changer shape, and I never got to see what it looked like! Do you know how often I get to deal with someone who's got a non-human form? Especially multiple non-human forms? Come on, seriously. I need a challenge, here!” She paused to take in what I said. “Wait, you regenerate? Oh, come on now. That's just not fair!”

“Well, I don't want to have to keep running back to you to get healing,” I pointed out. “That's not fair on you, you know.”

“Yeah, but I'm almost certain you're pulling mass out of nowhere to make your Change,” she said. “Maybe if I could look at you when you're larger, I could figure it out one way or the other.”

Vicky, grinning broadly, spoke up then. “So what you're saying is that you're less worried about Taylor's well-being and more about how her power reacts weirdly with her biology?”

“No!” Amy protested. We looked at her sceptically, and she flushed. “Well, maybe a little?”

I rolled my eyes theatrically. “I knew it! You're only interested in my body.”

Vicky burst out laughing. Amy went beet red from hairline to neck, and threw a cushion at me. I retaliated, and then it was on.

<><>

“I dunno,” Dad observed slyly. “I walked in the door to see Panacea beating you about the head with a cushion. I'm not sure how this sort of thing works in the cape world, but is that really how your healers treat their patients?”

“Only the ones who regenerate, Mr H,” Vicky interjected shamelessly. “Turns out that your daughter's either a lot tougher than we thought, or she heals really fast. Or maybe both.”

“Plus, it's a good way to get me used to ordinary stress,” I said. “If being smacked in the face with a pillow doesn't make me change involuntarily, then tripping in the corridor won't do it either, you see?”

“Uh huh. And of course, we're not taking into account the fact that pillow fights are just plain fun, right?” Dad's voice was very dry. “I might be old, but I'm not that old.” His voice turned serious. “You regenerate? Is that dangerous? Are there side effects? How do you even know that you regenerate?”

I shrugged, flopping back down on to the couch. “Well, you know that we talked about it before. This time around I got caught in an explosion again, which knocked me out. Vicky says that I changed back for a moment, then I woke up, changed again, and got back into the fight. I personally don't remember much of the fight. It was all a blur.”

Dad looked startled. “Whoa, hold it right there. Time out.” He even made the 'T' sign with his hands, a thing he hadn't done in years. This should have clued me in to how agitated he was. “Explosions? What the … No!” He shook his head almost angrily. “This was not what I agreed to.” Turning his gaze to me, he more or less pinned me to the couch with his glare. “Explosions?!”

I could tell that he was on the edge of an explosion of his own, and I tried to defuse it. “It's all right, Dad. I wasn't hurt, really. It was like the last time, when I blew up the locker.”

“You. Got. Knocked. Out. This. Time.” He gritted the words through clenched teeth.

“But I got back up again,” I pointed out. “Straight away, even. Look, not a scratch!” I slid the sleeve of my t-shirt up my arm and showed him the unmarked skin. “Nothing at all. I'm all right,Dad!”

“I don't care!” he screamed. “You still got hurt!”

“I'm a superhero now!” I yelled back at him. “I'm not a little kid any more!”

“You're my little kid!” He took a sharp breath, then continued before I could interrupt. “And until you turn eighteen, you do not get to risk yourself like that!”

“Hey, hey,” interjected Mrs Dallon from the doorway to her office. “What's going on here?”

Dad swung toward her. “Explosions that knocked her out!” Even though he wasn't looking at me, his finger swung unerringly to point in my direction, stabbing at me with every word. “Is thatyour idea of a safe introduction to being a superhero?”

“No. It isn't.” Mrs Dallon's expression was never the warmest, but now her voice hit sub-zero temperatures. “Victoria, you didn't tell me about any of this. It was supposed to be a shakedown flight, not a patrol for crime. You knew you weren't supposed to do anything dangerous on Taylor's first flight as a member of New Wave.”

“First and last,” muttered Dad. “If I don't get an ironclad guarantee that this is never going to happen again.”

“Dad -” I ventured.

“No!” His voice could have carved plate steel. “I lost your mother. I'm not losing you!”

“Mom. Seriously.” Glory Girl spread her hands, the very picture of innocence. “The guy blew out the side of a ship while we were flying over it. What were we supposed to do?”

Dad swung toward her, his expression furious, but Mrs Dallon got there first. “Victoria. Go to your room. Now.”

“But -”

“Now.”

Vicky began to float up from the sofa; Brandish cut in sharply. “And no flying, or you're grounded for a month. Literally.”

Not daring to say a word, I watched as Glory Girl dropped to the ground and trudged toward the stairs. She was halfway up them when her mother turned to me. Mrs Dallon's voice was still stern, but held less of an edge as she spoke to me. “Taylor, please join her. This is between your father and myself.” As I stood up, I saw her glance at Amy, then toward the stairs. Looking resigned, Amy stood up as well.

<><>

I joined Vicky in her room; as I closed the door, she flopped on to the bed with a gusty sigh. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow night?”

I stared at her, not quite sure if she was pulling my leg. “You have got to be joking.”

“No, seriously,” she said, lifting herself on to her elbows and looking at me. “It'll all blow over by then. So what do you want to do? Hit the Merchants for real?”

Leaning against the wardrobe, I slid downward until I was resting on the floor. “This is not going to blow over any time soon. I can't remember the last time I saw Dad this pissed. Like, ever. I'll be lucky if I'm allowed out as a superhero before my wedding day.”

She frowned at me. “I didn't know you had a boyfriend?”

I glared right back. “I don't.”

“Oh.” She took a moment; I hoped that she was beginning to realise the level of trouble we were in. “Um. So, um, how bad do you think it's gonna get? Grounded for a week?”

I facepalmed. She still didn't get it. “Pretty sure that I'm out of New Wave. For starters.”

“Wait, what?” She sat up in horror. “But – but, that's not even fair! You weren't even hurt!”

“Do you think that's gonna matter to him?” I shook my head. “You heard him down there. My mom died a few years ago. Even the suggestion that I might get hurt's going to set him off. Telling him I got knocked out was a mistake. A huge mistake.”

There was a soft tap at the door. Vicky raised her head. “Come in, Ames.”

The door opened briefly as Amy slipped inside. “Oh, good,” she said. “You're dressed.”

As a joke, it fell kind of flat. From downstairs, I heard my father's voice.

“ - no way in hell I'm gonna let -”

It closed again, cutting off his tirade. I looked between Vicky and Amy. “So, how good a lawyer is your mom? Because it's gonna take a really good one to get around Dad when he's in a mood like this.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Amy cautiously. “Your dad's gonna calm down some time soon, right?”

“Nuh uh.” I shook my head. “He's got a temper. Doesn't show it off much, but when he goes off, he goes off big. First time I've been on the wrong end of it, though.”

“Mom's a pretty good lawyer,” Vicky said complacently. “She should be able to work around your dad pretty easily.”

Amy pulled the chair out from the desk and turned it around, sitting down and resting her arms across the back. “Taylor, isn't your dad in the Dockworkers Association or something?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He's head of hiring.” I looked over at Vicky. “And before you ask, he's done his share of negotiations.”

“But nothing in the courtroom, right?” Vicky's voice was hopeful.

I snorted bitterly. “He doesn't do courtroom rules. Why is it, do you think, that none of the gangs in Brockton Bay have ever gotten a toehold in the Association?”

Vicky opened her mouth and closed it again. No-one spoke. The silence in the room was so complete that I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall over the distant sound of raised voices from downstairs.

“ … none of them?” Vicky had found her voice at last. “Really?”

“Really.” I looked her in the eye. “So I'm not so sure that your mom's gonna win this one, you know?”

“If he makes you quit New Wave, what do you think you'll do?” asked Amy.

I shrugged. “Dunno. Go back to Winslow, I guess. I can't see your mom pushing through my case if I'm not in New Wave any more.” The admission pained me even more than the idea of being forced out of the team that I'd just joined, but I couldn't see any way out of it.

“She wouldn't do that … would she?” Vicky stared at me. “I mean, you need Mom's help on this.”

“And if it was a superhero thing, she'd probably jump in to help me,” I said. “But this is a lawyer thing. Something she usually gets paid for. And I'm pretty sure that Dad can't pay for her time on this sort of thing. I know for a fact that I can't. So, case closed. They win. Hell, Emma won't even know that there was a court case to begin with. Fuck.” Closing my eyes, I bumped my head backward against the wardrobe.

“Mom said it was for damages,” Vicky reminded me. “You and your dad don't have to pay up straight away. She'll just take her cut from what you guys get out of the girls and the school.”

I grimaced. “Not if Dad pisses her off so much that she decides not to take the case after all.”

“You could still try to apply for Arcadia anyway.” There wasn't much optimism in Amy's voice, but I gave her a weak smile for trying.

“Yeah, I could.” I sighed. “I mean, Winslow'll be closed for a few days. It might be worth a shot.” My grimace deepened as a thought occurred to me. “Of course, Emma and Sophia and Madison could also apply to Arcadia. Which means nothing changes.”

“Hell yes, something changes,” Vicky said. “I'll be there. So will Ames. And a lot of my friends. I'd like to see this Emma bitch trying anything on you with them on your side.”

“Until she gets them on side and turns them against me.” My prediction was gloomy, but I had bitter experience to back me up.

Vicky shook her head. “Not gonna happen.” Her voice was filled with confidence. “My friends are better than that. Tell her, Ames.”

Amy didn't hesitate. “She's right about that. Her friends are about as likely to turn on you as Kaiser is to give up crime and open a kosher hot-dog stand in partnership with Inago.”

“Wow. That's pretty unlikely, all right,” I admitted.

Vicky tilted her head. “Your dad's not yelling any more.”

I turned my head, listening. “You're right. Though I'm not so sure that it's a good thing.”

“I think -” Amy paused, then kept going. “I think someone's coming upstairs.”

I had the impression that she'd been about to say something else, but she was right anyway. Moments after she spoke, there were footsteps in the corridor outside, then a brisk knock on the door. Amy got up and opened it.

Mrs Dallon stood in the doorway. I tried to work out how the argument had gone from her expression, but she gave absolutely nothing away. “Taylor, Victoria, please come downstairs now.”

It's not gonna be good news, is it? Slowly … reluctantly … I climbed to my feet. Vicky made a move as if to levitate directly off the bed, then caught her mother's gaze. Carefully, she planted her feet firmly on the floor and got up that way.

I was the first downstairs, followed by Vicky. Mrs Dallon followed us, with Amy trailing in the rear. Dad stood in the living room, his hands behind his back as he faced us. From what I knew of him, given the tension of that posture, his hands would be clenching each other tightly enough to cut off the circulation.

“Sit.” Mrs Dallon pointed at the couch. Vicky and I sat. Wonder of wonders, Vicky didn't even try to argue. “Now, Vicky. Tell me what you did wrong.”

This wasn't what I was expecting. From Vicky's expression, nor was she. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Even though I'd known her for less than a day, I could imagine the phrase but we didn't do anything wrong trembling to be let out. However, I knew beyond a doubt that this would be the worst possible thing to say. I hoped that she did too.

Vicky's expression was agonised. She wasn't stupid – far from it – but it seemed to me that she wasn't used to being called to account on her actions. Trying to figure out what she had done wrong, instead of blithely assuming that she was free and clear on all accounts, was obviously new territory for her.

“I guess …” Vicky paused, feeling her way. “Attacking Stinger like we did … we should have called for backup?”

Mrs Dallon folded her arms. “Correct. You should have called for backup. Or called nine-one-one. Or waited and observed. More or less anything except dive right in. Which is what I'm guessing you did do.”

I had to admit that she knew her daughter pretty well. But I had dived in after Vicky, so I felt obliged to back her up. “Uh, may I say something?”

“A moment, Taylor.” Mrs Dallon didn't shift her gaze from Vicky. “Are you aware of how badly things could have gone in that fight? You could have been hurt or killed. Taylor could have been hurt or killed. You're just lucky – both of you are – that you encountered a villain who was relatively easy to beat, and that Taylor's power allowed her to survive the explosion.”

Vicky mumbled something under her breath.

“Speak up,” snapped Brandish.

“Taylor's immune to explosions,” Vicky muttered. “She blew up her locker with her in it. She survived that.”

There was a crackle and a snap as Brandish created a thin blade of pure energy from her own hand. Dad and I stared at it; it was a stark reminder that Vicky's mom really was a superhero in her own right, and was speaking from experience. With a quick, brutal movement, she stabbed the blade into her other palm; it fizzled out on contact. “Taylor may be immune to her own power, but you had no way of knowing that she was immune to explosions in general. In fact, we still don't know if she is, or if it's just her regeneration that allowed her to survive this one. Do you see my point now?”

Vicky's eyes were wide. “Uh, yeah,” she managed, then swallowed. “I screwed up, didn't I?”

“Uh, Mrs Dallon?” I raised my hand this time.

Mrs Dallon ignored my interjection, keeping her eyes on Vicky. “Yes. You did.” Only then did she turn to look at me. “Yes, Taylor?”

My mouth had unaccountably gone dry. I tried to moisten my lips. “Uh, I just wanted to say that the guy – Stinger – was pretty slick. If we'd waited around, he would've been ready for whoever came after him. I could be wrong, but I think hitting him as early as we did made it a lot harder for him to prepare a response.”

“That may well be.” Mrs Dallon was well into Brandish mode by now. “But there's a time and a place to engage the enemy. Victoria should not have done what she did. Taking an inexperienced teammate into battle against an unknown foe, as she did, was foolish in the extreme. It would have been better if she'd gone in alone and left you outside. Not much better, but some. Because I'd prefer he gets away than either one of you gets hurt or killed.”

I saw her point. We had been reckless, and it could've gone badly wrong. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I see what you mean.”

Her expression was more like a smile than a frown, but only just. “Good.” She turned and gestured to Dad, who hadn't moved from the spot. “Danny, you had something to say?”

I began to wonder what was going on here. This didn't sound like the preamble to me being removed from New Wave.

Dad stepped forward. To my relief, he didn't look quite as angry as he had been before. But that wasn't to say that he looked happy. He cleared his throat roughly. “Mrs Dallon and I have had an in-depth discussion over your future in this team, Taylor.”

My future in the team? Hope burst inside me. “Does that mean -” I began.

He held up his hand, palm out, and I shut up.

“Now, I am not in the least bit thrilled that you'll be going into danger.” His hand went back to his side, and I saw his knuckles clench. “But Mrs Dallon has impressed upon me the fact that unless they're given an outlet, your powers will manifest and you will use them, and not necessarily on purpose.”

I hadn't known that. Daring to glance sideways, I caught Vicky's eye. Is this true? She gave me the slightest of nods. But Dad was still talking. I got the strong impression that he didn't want to say what he was saying, but that he knew that he had to.

“We talked about putting you in the Wards, but she pointed out in the strongest possible terms that forcing you into a team, where you would very likely resent both them and me, would be worse than simply having you on your own.” He paused. “Unless you want to join the Wards?” His tone was hopeful.

As opposed to joining New Wave? I shook my head swiftly. “No. They'll want to poke and prod me. They might not even let me be a hero.”

From the look on his face, he wasn't averse to me being kept out of the line of fire. “We didn't think so.” But it was worth a try. He didn't say the words, but I heard them loud and clear anyway. “So, the only other option is to let you stay in New Wave.” He didn't sound happy, but nor did he seem angry about it any more. His tone was more resigned than anything. “But there's going to have to be some conditions.”

I had been just about to leap up and hug him, and then maybe Vicky – Mrs Dallon did not come across as the most huggable of people – until he said those last words. They were more than a little ominous. “Uh, conditions?” I ventured.

Mrs Dallon stepped forward. “Your father has expressed his reservations about Victoria's level of judgement in the field.” For all that I knew nothing about the law, I was pretty sure that I could decipher her lawyer-speak. He thinks she's a reckless idiot. Vicky shifted uncomfortably on the couch beside me; I figured that she'd heard the same unspoken judgement as I had.

“However,” Brandish continued, “you do work well together, so we've decided to let that state of affairs continue. With, as your father said, conditions.” She fixed me with an unrelenting stare. “You're home by ten every school night. You pay attention to your grades. And when you do go out, someone else goes with the pair of you. Someone responsible.”

“Oh, that's easy,” Vicky said, perhaps a little too hastily. “Ames can come along.”

“I hardly think that Amy could keep you in check if you decided to go your own way,” her mother corrected her. Vicky slumped very slightly; I suspected that she'd had that same thought herself.

“No.” Mrs Dallon's voice was firm. “We had in mind someone more adult. A flyer would be ideal, given that both of you are also flyers.”

“So, Crystal or Aunt Sarah then.” Vicky looked back at her mother. “Have you asked them if they want to chaperone us?”

“If they're unwilling, then the choices are either Manpower, your father, myself or not going out at all.” Brandish wasn't giving an inch. “Those are your options. They are not negotiable.”

“Uh, I'm good with someone coming out with us,” I said quickly. “I am really new to this, so I'll take all the pointers I can get.”

“Uh, yeah, what she said.” Vicky didn't sound enthusiastic, but at least she was agreeing.

“Very well, then.” Mrs Dallon nodded in curt approval. “We'll give you your chance.”

Unspoken were the words: Don't screw it up.

I didn't intend to. 

Part 11