Celestial Worm Pt 18 (Patreon)

Part Eighteen: Cleanup

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by @Fizzfaldt and co-written by Karen Buckeridge, author of Ties That Bind and The Long Way Home (in production).]

Taylor

Although Janesha’s cousin Columbine was only the second celestial Taylor had ever met (if she didn’t count Scion, who she’d only seen on TV, and ‘Edeena’, who looked like nothing on Earth) she could already see some fundamental differences between them in terms of attitude. Janesha walked and talked like she owned everything; as if she were merely allowing the mortals to use the world for a while. (Which, given what Taylor knew about celestials, was more or less the unvarnished truth.) By contrast, apart from the butterfly-winged monkey on her shoulder and her supermodel looks, Professor Nascerdios could be someone Taylor passed on the street with nothing more than an envious glance at the stunning sweep of her hair. In fact, they both possessed flawless complexions and hairstyles, like they’d just stepped out of a beautician’s shop just moments before. She knew why that was, of course; stimulation waves were something she was now aware of. Still, it was monumentally unfair.

The main thing that told her how special Professor Nascerdios was … was the fact that Janesha had collapsed sobbing into the supernaturally beautiful woman’s arms. This was Janesha, the most thoroughly self-contained person Taylor knew. Or rather, the most emotionally aloof person Taylor knew. Angry, she could do, and amusement. But she just didn’t do needy. Not until now, anyway. The few times she’d drawn comfort from Taylor’s presence were nothing compared to the blubbering mess she’d become now that her older cousin was here.

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to think about the third aspect to the situation. Not half an hour previously, she’d been forced to beg on her knees for the welfare of Earth Bet. Had she not thrown her all into the effort, she had no doubt that the planet would now be a blasted ruin, all its people except for herself and her father dead. Everyone she’d ever met, snuffed out without even knowing why or how. And while there were some people she had little fellow-feeling for, there were countless more who simply didn’t deserve that sort of fate.

Janesha had acceded to her heartfelt pleas, sparing Taylor’s world from the imminent threat of annihilation, not long before she’d lost patience with Eidolon and executed him outright. Recalling Janesha’s descriptions of Hell and the Damned, Taylor shuddered to think of the torments Eidolon would be suffering once he arrived there.

But once Janesha had seen Edeena, all bets were off. She’d called on her family; from her words before she performed the blood-link, she fully expected Earth Bet to be destroyed by whoever showed up. The fact that Professor Nascerdios seemed to have no intentions in this regard didn’t actually change the point that Janesha had opened Earth Bet up to destruction a second time without giving Taylor anything like a direct warning.

Her tears of relief were for you, sweetheart, the soft voice whispered through her mind, causing her to gasp. Ssshh, it hushed gently, in the same crooning manner that had comforted Janesha. I am not a mind reader, Taylor. I am a telepath who is exceptionally good at reading body language and the emotions behind it. For me to hear what you are thinking, you must think it while wanting me to hear it. The professor hadn’t moved from where she stood alongside Janesha. Not to blink. Not to twitch.

She contacted you, believing it would be the end of my world. Taylor couldn’t help the resentment that bubbled to life inside of her.

And it devastated her. As I said, sweetheart. Her tears were not for herself. They were in relief for you. To know that you would retain your beloved world and not hate her for having to do this.

She could’ve told me.

Do you believe that would have changed the outcome?

We could’ve at least discussed it. I mean, I know celestials are special and all, but at the end of the day it’s just one life versus the billions of mortals on my world.

There was a pregnant pause before the professor sent, You are an intelligent young lady, Taylor Hebert. Would you mind if I posed you a question?

Taylor thought that had to be the weirdest thing ever. A goddess, who was powerful enough to make Janesha bawl like a baby and rule a universe in its entirety, was asking if it was alright to ask her a question. I guess ...

If three children and their mother were in a single-car accident and only one team of paramedics came upon them, who do you think they would attempt to save first?

Taylor gave the question some thought. The mother would want her kids saved.

Yes, she would. But that was not the question I asked you, Taylor. Who would those paramedics put most of their endeavour into saving?

The kids have their whole lives ahead of them, and the mother would want the kids to live. So I’d say the kids first, and the mother last.

And you would be wrong, sweetheart. The paramedics would do everything they could to save the mother first because they would have no idea how many other children that mother may have elsewhere, whose lives depend on her. What if she had five other children at home? What if she were a foster mother with dozens of children depending on her. What if she was a surgeon who was meant to save dozens of people in the coming days? Because none of these factors are known, they will stabilise the children as best as they can until their colleagues arrive, but their primary focus will remain on the mother, even if it costs the lives of the three other children in the car.

Taylor didn’t like what she was implying, though her point was loud and clear. Since Janesha didn’t know how many worlds (or galaxies) were tied to this damaged celestial, the loss of a single world to bring in the celestial equivalent of the paramedics was the only decision Janesha could make. Powerful beings make powerful decisions.

Her eyes found her friend, who was staring back at her with both eyebrows arched upwards in concern.

I thought you were seeing to the safety of the people who had her essence?

Although she still hadn’t moved until then, the very corners of the professor’s lips lifted into a smile that was both warm and indulgent. I am also very good at multi-tasking.

<><>

Washington, DC

PRT Department 24

Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown sat at her desk, performing the most basic (and perhaps most annoying) function of her job; dealing with paperwork. Despite occasional efforts to make things otherwise, she still required a physical inbox and outbox on her desk. Far too often for her liking, paper documents ended up in the former, to be scrutinised and (usually) signed, then placed in the latter.

The only saving grace in the whole situation was the fact that she didn’t have to spend long minutes absorbing all the subtle details in any one document. One lightning-fast appraisal was all she required before making her decision. In the current case, the document had definitely needed the appraisal. She had already paused twice to pen in acerbic comments into the margin. This was not going to be signed until the idiot who’d drafted it learned to do basic fact-checking. With a barely contained sigh, she turned to the last page, then jerked her hand back at a sudden sting.

What the hell was that? Disbelievingly, she stared at her fingertip, where a tiny red mark was showing. She touched her tongue to it and tasted blood. That’s a papercut. How can that be a papercut? She glared suspiciously at the document; it looked like paper and felt like paper, but that was no guarantee. Cautiously, she lifted the sheet and ripped it slightly. It had all the texture of tearing paper.

All right, she told herself, trying to go through all the possibilities of what it could mean. She knew of literally no substance on Earth, able to mimic paper or otherwise, that could actually harm her. But now another thing was worrying her. She’d been trying to reason through the problem with her usual razor-sharp analysis, but the mental speed to which she was accustomed continued to elude her. It was like she was wading through mud from one conclusion to another.

Fear began to worm itself into her brain. I just suffered a papercut, and I can’t think as fast as normal. What’s happening to me? Is someone mentally affecting me, making me think I’ve lost my powers? Well, that’s easy to check.

Standing up, she stepped away from the desk and exerted her flight; just enough to levitate off the floor and assuage her worries.

Nothing happened. The ceiling was getting no closer, and the floor still pressed up against the soles of her sensible shoes.

Okay, I have to assume that either I’ve lost my powers or I’m suffering a persistent hallucination that’s making me think I’ve lost my powers. She tried to figure out who could’ve done such a thing but again, her mental faculties were moving slower than tar trickling downhill. This is officially a crisis. I need to talk to an expert. Heading over to the office door, she locked it, then returned to the desk and pressed her intercom button. “Do not disturb me for the next half-hour. I’m in conference.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied her secretary; a bright young up-and-coming agent. “Thirty minutes.”

Confident now that nobody would barge into her office unexpectedly, she released the button and spoke out loud. “Doorway to Cauldron base.”

No Doorway appeared. Her heart rate accelerated and she sagged against the desk. We’re under attack! We must be. They’ve nullified my powers, and neutralised Doormaker or Clairvoyant, or even both of them. How far does it spread? Is it Scion? Is he moving against us?

At that moment, her phone rang.

<><>

New York City

Legend

Everyone was out of the tenement building, according to the fire crews, but the flames were still leaping high into the air and embers were threatening all the structures around it. Legend hovered in midair, considering how to deal with the problem.

The simplest solutions, he decided, were the most useful ones. Raising his hands, he sent out multiple beams of what the news called his ‘lasers’, though he was fully aware they were nothing of the sort. These circled around the building and struck from multiple angles, sucking the heat away from the hottest parts of the fire. Within seconds, the flames were dying away as their source fizzled to nothing. He circled the building, observing the effect of his power; or at least, he began to.

I should land.

It wasn’t a voice in his head, or even an overwhelming compulsion. He simply … wanted to land. Landing was a good idea. At the very least, he could regroup with the first responders just to make sure everything on the ground was going according to plan.

Gliding in to the nearest tall building where he could still observe the tenement from, he touched down lightly on the roof. Raising his hand, he sent his power outward to complete the job …

… that is, he sent his power outward …

… sent …

Why is my power not working? Frowning, he stared at his right hand, then tried with his left. The same result (or rather, lack of result) took place. Have I burned it out? He knew all too well how David’s powers were declining. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that his were, also. This could be problematic. Instinctively, he tried to take off, only to perform a little hop that barely lifted him an inch from the roof. The lighter-than-air sensation utterly failed to take hold.

Feeling a little panicky now, he tried to force a transition to his energy state. Nothing happened.

Something was very, very wrong. He knew what he had to do. But first, he had something else he had to do, something he’d made himself promise to do in a situation such as this. Fumbling his phone from its pouch on his belt, he hit ‘1’ on speed-dial.

“Hello?”

“Arthur,” he said, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. At least that part of his life was still normal. “Hey. I just wanted to touch base … and … make sure everything’s all right.”

“Everything’s okay with me.” Arthur, with instincts honed from years of marriage, sounded slightly suspicious. “What’s wrong? You’re worried.”

“It might be nothing, love,” Legend told him. “I’m just suffering a little powers problem at the moment and I always promised myself that if anything outside the norm happened, I’d touch base with home.” He sighed, feeling a little foolish for having frightened his husband. He stared at the fire that was close to putting itself out. “So, now that I have, I guess I just wanted you to know that I love you and if everything goes according to plan, I should be home later for dinner, okay?”

“I’m making dumplings, with extra sour Sweet and Sour sauce. And there’s a Die Hard marathon on channel one-thirty-five tonight.”

Legend’s favourite food, with Arthur’s favourite movie series. The simple domesticity of it made him smile wistfully. “Sounds good.”

“Okay, then. I love you too. See you soon.”

Legend ended the call, then dialled another number. It took one ring before the call went through.

“Hello?” It was Rebecca’s voice, but not the Rebecca he knew. This one sounded near to panic. That wasn’t good at all.

“It’s me,” he said. As he spoke, he tried absently to generate a power effect with his hand. Nothing happened. He was getting sick of nothing happening. “I have a distinct problem. Are you suffering the same problem?”

“If you’re feeling absolutely powerless then yes, I’m suffering the same problem. I’ve also tried getting through to base, but the door won’t open.” She sounded severely rattled; in fact, this was the most fear he’d ever heard in her voice, and that included each and every Endbringer attack, as well as the time she’d lost an eye to the Siberian.

Not that he blamed her; Cauldron’s combination of Doormaker and the Clairvoyant was a tremendous force multiplier, and the Triumvirate had come to rely implicitly on them, as well as Contessa’s insights. Stripped of those as well as his powers, he was just an ordinary person in far over his head.

How far does this go? He looked helplessly around the New York skyline. What does it mean? “What do we do now?” he asked out loud.

She was trying to sound like she was in control again, but the quaver in her voice said otherwise. “Our best bet is to sit tight and hope that C can get back in contact with us. I’ll keep trying that. You call David, and see if he’s suffering the same problem.”

“I’ll do that.” With a sense of relief—it was something to do—he ended the call and hit speed-dial for Eidolon’s number.

“We are unable to connect your call at this time. Please call back later.”

He stared at the phone. What’s going on with that?

<><>

Brockton Bay

Assault

Ethan had to pull up hard. As they often did to unwind after a long, and sometimes boring shift, he and his wife would cut loose by racing across Brockton Bay, to a point near home. The run had started just like any other, with a lot of trash-talk and taunts of ‘loser does the dishes for a week’. She’d caught him on the back foot by blurring off into the distance before he was fully ready, and he’d only just overtaken her in the last few seconds.

Turning to look over his shoulder and gloat, he realised she had dropped out of her super-speed early and he had in fact, lost her.

He cautiously retraced his steps, searching for the moment when she would leap out at him from behind something. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. But something in the back of his mind was telling him this was off. Way off.

That thought was confirmed when he found her on her hands and knees with her head bowed, panting as if she couldn’t draw in oxygen fast enough. “Puppy!” he cried, and was at her side in a heartbeat. “What happened?”

The look of sheer terror on her face as she lifted her eyes to his sent his own heart-rate skyrocketing. “I. Don’t. Know,” she panted, swallowing between words. “I ran. Out of power. Way before. I normally do.”

Ethan could attest to this. Fully charged, she could keep her speed up for ninety seconds, and she’d been going for less than thirty. “Okay, breathe deeply, puppy. You know the drill. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Clear your thoughts. Get your heart rate back under control.” He wasn’t mentioning his own pounding pulse, though when he followed his own advice to help her find her rhythm, it did help to bring it down.

A few minutes later, she sat back on her haunches with her hands on her hips. “What was that all about?” she demanded, as if he had any clue.

“Puppy, I was already three blocks ahead of you when I realised you’d dropped out of the race. What do you think happened?”

Instead of answering, she held up a finger and closed her eyes. Tension built through her body just like it always did when she was banking power, but the lines on her costume failed to start glowing as they should have. Her eyes opened again. “It’s gone,” she said, staring at her hands which she clenched and unclenched into fists.

It took a moment for Ethan to realise what she meant, and when he did, he swallowed hard. “Maybe … it’s taken a holiday?” he offered hesitantly. But that didn’t make sense. Why would her power be gone, when tapping his toe against a discarded soda can had it ricocheting down the street like an insane pinball. Had someone targeted her? And if so, who? How? And most importantly, why?

He looked around and saw a nearby bench. “Honey, why don’t you sit on that bench, and get your breath back. I’ll put in a call to the PRT and get a van here to pick us up.”

“I don’t want them to see me like this,” she said illogically. “Can you run home and get me some clothes? Maybe a good night’s sleep will fix whatever this is.”

He shook his head, even as he took out his phone. “No way am I moving from your side. Whatever this is, we’re facing it together, and I’m not taking one step away from you until you’re in a safe place.”

He watched her try to argue with his reasoning, but she couldn’t muster up the words. For the first time since he’d met her, her lips pinched apprehensively. Her right hand rubbed her left upper arm as she searched the area around them, and he realised she too, was looking for the mystery attacker to show him or herself, now that she was at her most vulnerable.

He led her over to the bench and sat her down. Turning his phone on, he hit the speed-dial labelled PRETENTIOUS RANDOM TODDLERS. All the while, his eyes never stopped moving, scanning their surroundings for the slightest hint of danger. If anyone threatened his wife, the next soda can would go through them.

“PRT console. Assault, you’re supposed to be off-duty. What’s the issue?” The duty officer’s voice was bored.

“We have a Shadow Stalker situation,” he said tersely. “We need pickup at this location, stat. Do you copy?”

All trace of boredom had left the man’s voice when he answered. “I copy Sierra-Sierra situation, Assault. Dispatching a van immediately. Also diverting backup to your location. Hold tight; the cavalry is on the way. Do not hang up. I say again, do not hang up.”

“Holding tight.” Assault replied. Sliding the phone, still on the line, back into his pouch, he put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Help is on the way, babe. We’ll get this sorted out. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Reaching up, she put her hand on his. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” But as he scanned his surroundings for the tenth time, he wished he could feel as certain as he sounded.

<><>

New York City

Trickster

“Okay,” Francis said, tapping an unlit cigarette on the table. He wanted to light it and take a deep puff, but the others all gave him dirty looks when he smoked inside, so he refrained for the moment. “It looks like we’re in the clear for the moment. The heat should die down in a week or so …”

“And then we’re moving on, out of the city.” That was Luke, his broad features set in a determined scowl. “That last job was far too close. How the hell were we meant to know Legend was in the area? And we do not want him following us back to base.”

“You mean, you don’t want him trying to capture Noelle and generating an evil twin, right?” Francis glared at him. “Say what you mean.”

“He’s got a point,” Jess said. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep those things contained.”

“I don’t see you stepping up to save the day when it happens,” Cody sniped from across the table. “Either of you.” His gaze cut from Jess to Marissa and back again. “It’s always me and Krouse and Luke doing all the heavy lifting.”

“That’s not fair!” shouted Marissa, sounding near to tears. “You know how hot my suns get! One wrong move, and I’ll burn down a city block or two. We were just lucky I only set fire to one building, this time!”

“And I take time to build my creatures,” Jess added, gripping the arms of her wheelchair and glowering at Cody in her turn. “So you can shove your ‘heavy lifting’ up your ass. Twice, even.”

“Guys, guys, can we not fight?” Oliver said, returning from the front door with a couple of steaming pizza boxes in his hands. He headed through into the kitchen, where they kept the paper plates.

A moment later, everything changed.

Francis was still sitting on a chair, but it was a different chair. The table was different, the wallpaper was different, and even the shape of the room was different. From the kitchen, he heard a yelp of alarm from Oliver.

He launched to his feet, searching the room for answers. While he was used to his surroundings shifting rapidly, he was usually the author of such changes. And the last time they’d been moved somewhere against their will …

“Oh, shit,” Luke whispered, his face white. “She did it again, didn’t she?”

Francis did not have to ask who Luke meant by ‘she’. The Simurgh had featured in their nightmares more than once over the years, and even now he suffered the occasional relapse, waking up sweating and shaking.

“Francis!” Before the shift, Noelle had been upstairs in the main bedroom, but now her voice was coming from down the corridor. “You have to come see this!”

He didn’t hesitate for a second. Whatever was going on, it had to be scary for Noelle. She was isolated enough as it was; right now, she needed him. He took off in the direction of her voice.

“Be careful!” shouted Jess from behind him. “You know what happens if you touch her!”

“Like I can forget!” Francis had undergone a very bad time the first time Noelle’s cloning ability had manifested itself. He’d learned the hard way that touching her led to disaster, no matter how careful they were. But he also knew that she knew the consequences of careless contact. Also, of all the reactions she’d had toward new developments in her condition, he’d never heard her express excitement before.

Stopping at the doorway, he checked to make sure he wasn’t about to run headlong into her. By now, her lower body sported several large legs, and she’d become the size of a sofa. This was why she’d had the largest bedroom, although the bed had had to be demolished and moved out. Noelle tended to destroy them, so she usually slept on a mattress on the floor, with a sheet over her.

It turned out to be a bedroom, but one that seemed oddly familiar. Noelle was standing at the window, the sheet wrapped around her lower body. There was something strange about that, too, but his head was too full of potential danger to follow any of these clues up.

It took him a moment to parse the expression on her face. It was somewhere between ‘stunned’ and ‘giddy’ with a side-order of ‘delirious’. “What’s going on—” he began, before he saw something else. Specifically, her profile under the sheet she’d wrapped around herself. A profile that she hadn’t boasted for a year or more. “What the hell? You’re you again? How …?”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly, she was in his arms, her cheek pressed warm against his. Automatically, he began to pull back; some reflexes were too strong to ignore. But no clones appeared. Even the subtle dragging effect of her power was absent. “I’m back to normal.” Her voice was soft in his ear. “I’m me. But that’s not all.”

“What?” he asked, his senses reeling from the sensation of holding her again, after so long. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t you recognize this room?” she asked.

He blinked and looked around. And just like a kaleidoscope dropping into a familiar pattern, the picture clicked for him. Up until now, he’d been thinking ‘strange location we’ve been dropped into’ but familiar details were now impressing themselves on him. “Holy shit! Is this your bedroom?”

It was, he realized. He was back in her parents’ apartment, in Madison. Not the Madison they’d fled from, but the Madison in Earth Aleph. As he stared around the room, more and more details jumped out at him. A lot of the posters and knick-knacks had been stored away, which was why he hadn’t twigged at first, but now the very shape of the room was impressing itself on his mind.

Not taking his arm from around Noelle, he headed for the window. Outside was the familiar vista of Madison, Wisconsin. The one that had never suffered from the Simurgh attack. Behind him, he heard the others coming to the doorway.

“Fuck!”

“Stop her!”

“Stop him!”

He half-turned his head; Cody, Luke and Marissa stood there, staring in horror. They’d all seen what happened when he’d done this the last time; the running battle with the clones had half-destroyed the small town, and necessitated that they move far and fast to avoid the repercussions of their actions.

“It’s all right,” Noelle said, not letting him go. “I’ve lost my powers. They’re gone.” Reaching down, she pulled the sheet up a little, and wiggled her bare foot. “My legs are normal again.”

“But how?” asked Marissa, taking a step forward. “Powers don’t just vanish like that. Trust me, I’ve tried to make that happen.”

“Uh … shit.” That was Cody. “I, uh, I think I’ve lost mine, too.”

“Now that you mention it …” Luke sounded uncertain. “I haven’t got the vector lines in the back of my head anymore. I thought it was the excitement of the moment.”

Everyone looked at Marissa. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “Well, don’t look at me. I’m not going to try to make a sun in here. What if I succeed?”

Francis stared at her. She was standing next to Cody. They were close enough in size to swap with nobody getting hurt. He’d done this a thousand times before, or so it felt. With just a little concentration, he would feel the chime that signalled a viable link.

No chime came. He pushed it harder. Still no chime. With a supreme effort, he threw his entire will into brute-forcing the swap.

Nothing happened. Slowly, he let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “I think you’ve lost your powers, too,” he said quietly. “I think we all have. How, I have no idea. I’m just gonna thank God for the miracle and take it as it is.”

Jess showed up with Oliver behind her; the wheelchair-bound girl showed little scruple in the way she muscled her way through the pack. Her snort was full of her usual cynicism. “You’ve never been the religious type, Krouse.”

“Maybe it’s time I started,” he said lightly, then gestured toward Oliver. “Check it out.”

“What?” asked the pudgy guy, his appearance now reverted to the pre-idealised version they’d known before all this started. “Why are you all looking at me? And why is Francis hugging Noelle? And why aren’t we all drowning in clones by now?”

“I’ll let you guys explain,” Francis decided. “In the loungeroom.” He waved them off, and headed across the room to the door. They didn’t argue as he pushed it closed and turned back to the love of his life. “You and me have got some serious catching up to do, little lady,” he said, with a predatory grin.

Noelle gave a throaty chuckle and let the sheet slide to the floor. “Oh, do we ever.”

<><>

Faultline’s Crew

Faultline

Running a nightclub was one thing. Running a nightclub while also managing a mercenary team of capes on the side was quite another. This was mildly complicated by the fact that she and her Crew had to keep a low profile in Brockton Bay, to reduce the chance that the local authorities would suddenly ‘notice’ that a bunch of villains were resident in Palanquin, Brockton Bay’s most happening night spot. So far they hadn’t, and Melanie was willing to help maintain that record by not giving them the slightest excuse to bust her.

Which was why she kept the books (at least those belonging to the nightclub side of things) spotlessly clean, and paid her fair share of taxes when the time came. A few extra ‘taxes’ paid under the table to certain city councilmen assisted in keeping her name away from unfriendly official attention. Those transactions didn’t appear in any book that might see the light of day, but they were just as important as the other type, if not more so.

She was elbow-deep in the financial aspects of the business when her office door was pushed open. Spitfire came in first, followed by a man Melanie had never met before. Medium height, a little on the heavy side, and almost completely bald. He was also wearing a coat that would’ve suited someone three sizes larger.

“What the hell’s going on here?” she snapped. “Who is this man?”

“Newter’s disappeared!” Spitfire sounded upset. “This is Gregor. He says he’s lost his powers.”

“It is true.” Gregor, if it was him, held his hands out, palms up. “My slime no longer generates. I was hanging out with Newter and he took on a thoughtful expression. Then he climbed down off the wall. I thought he was getting a drink, but between one step and the next, he vanished.”

“Well, shit.” Melanie ran her hands through her hair. Vanishing without a trace was not in Newter’s usual repertoire of tricks, but they had to cover all the bases. “Search the building, top to bottom. I’ll start checking out PHO, just in case someone managed to teleport him out for some reason. People who pull off a slick move like that, they nearly always end up bragging about it.”

“Got it. Let’s go.” Spitfire left, taking Gregor with her.

Melanie shook her head and closed down the accounting program, then she opened up PHO. Calling up the search bar, she typed in the keywords ‘vanish’, ‘Case 53’ and ‘Newter’ then hit Enter.

A second later, a series of titles started scrolling over the search area. The top one caught her eye: Case 53s vanishing? She clicked on it, and began to read.

After half a dozen posts with much the same content—Case 53s just popping out of existence, with no other pattern to it—she pushed back from the laptop and stared at the ceiling. Okay, what’s going on? Why didn’t Gregor vanish? Why did he just lose his powers?

If she could figure that one out, she knew, she’d have a handle on what was going on.

<><>

Somewhere in America

Mama Mathers

“Oh, shit.”

Christine had only whispered the word, but Elijah looked around curiously anyway. “What’s the matter, Mama?”

“Nothing,” she lied smoothly, all the while frantically trying to reconnect to her vast spider-web of contacts. Nothing happened. Not even Elijah, who was right there looking at her from behind his customary sunglasses, registered on her special senses. She couldn’t see through his eyes. She couldn’t see through anyone’s eyes but her own.

Maybe it’s just the senses.

Experimentally, she tried to turn off Elijah’s sight. He didn’t react to that, or to the illusion of Behemoth bursting from the earth in front of him.

I’ve lost my powers. Oh, shit.

This put her in an extremely dicey position. She had used her abilities liberally to attain and maintain her position of power within the Fallen. Nobody crossed her, because everyone who had a reason to do so was already affected by her power. Or they had been, up until about thirty seconds ago.

But once they discovered that she was once more normal … things would change. And not for the better. People like the Fallen tended to be vindictive, once someone who had lorded it over them was brought to their knees. Even if she survived the experience, she would be relegated to being one of the breeders; not a person of influence and power.

Fuck that.

“I just remembered something I have to do,” she extemporised, getting to her feet. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“All right, Mama.” Elijah turned back to watching the TV.

She wasn’t sure why she’d made sure to always have a car that was fuelled and ready to go on hand. Perhaps it was her version of a ‘bug-out bag’ in case someone she couldn’t influence came to attack the compound. Dragon, for instance. A remote-controlled suit could crush her before the operator ever saw her.

Whatever the reason, it suited her purposes admirably right now. She strolled over to the car, pulled the keys from her pocket, and got in. People were walking to and fro, some glancing curiously at her. She waved vaguely—don’t bother me now—and they hurriedly looked away. Starting the car, she put it in gear and drove away. Out of the compound.

Away from the remains of her life.

Okay, what the fuck do I do now?

Her hands tightened on the wheel. I find out why I lost my powers, and I go and get them back.

There was no other option, really. She’d had the world at her fingertips. She wanted it back.

<><>

A Small Town in Oregon, Current Population Nine

Slaughterhouse Nine

Jack Slash

“Well, this is different,” Jack mused. “How long has it been since they last sent the National Guard against us?”

“Long enough that they forgot what we did to them last time?” suggested Crawler, laughing out of several of his mouths.

Jack smiled and spun the knife in his hand, making the blade glitter in the weak sunlight. “Well, it’s about time we reminded them. Go, have fun. Hatchet Face, stay close by to keep any heroes honest. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

“Make some explosions and fire, Crawls,” Burnscar called out.

“You got it!” bellowed the pitch-black monstrosity over what passed for his shoulder.

Winter sighed and checked the chamber on the assault rifle she carried. “First I stop their bullets, then I stop their hearts.” She sounded positively bored with the whole idea. This had been an ongoing problem since Crimson had gotten himself killed.

“Leave some of ’em alive for me, huh?” Bonesaw was jiggling with excitement. “I haven’t had anyone to play with in ages.” She looked down from where she was riding on the Siberian’s shoulders. “And you can help!”

Shatterbird, wearing an ornate flared creation of stained glass, snorted. “You got first pick of everyone in town. That was three days ago.”

“Yeah, like I said. Ages.” Bonesaw looked over at Jack. “Can I have some, Mr Jack? Huh? Can I?”

Jack smiled indulgently. “Of course, poppet. Anything your heart desires.”

Shatterbird suddenly took off, accelerating upwards. “Time I showed these fools what true …” And then her words just stopped.

The abrupt interruption had Jack looking upwards, and the concerned expression on her face as she surveyed the scene alarmed him. “What’s going on, Shatterbird?”

“We need to retreat,” she declared, dropping only a few feet in the air so she didn’t have to shout. “I mean, like right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Now, Jack. Right now!” To prove the sincerity of her claim, Shatterbird twisted in mid-air and took off in the opposite direction to the National Guard contingent.

Jack stared dumbfoundedly at Mannequin, who’d popped blades from his forearms and set them to spin. The gleaming metal humanoid carapace (for a given definition of ‘humanoid’) shrugged its shoulders elaborately.

Still at a loss for words, Jack looked between the last spot in the sky where he’d seen Shatterbird, and the advancing troops. “If she doesn’t have a good reason for this, I’ll kill her myself,” he promised, pocketing one of his knives to free a hand. He then lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, one he’d ensured every member of the Slaughterhouse Nine knew, even though he’d had never had to use it before now. The signal for retreat. In the distance, he saw Hatchet Face and Crawler turn to him, their faces mirroring his own astonishment.

There was a thud beside him, and Bonesaw let out a yelp of pain. He looked around to see her climbing to her feet, rubbing her butt. “That hurt,” grumbled the pint-sized biotinker. “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said slowly. “Where did she go?” The presence of the Siberian was an integral part of his plan to confront the National Guard; without her, he and his poppet were horribly vulnerable.

“Should we run?” suggested Burnscar. “I think we should run.”

“I think so, too.”

<><>

Shatterbird watched her team scramble for cover from a distant hilltop. She had no idea why she’d had the sudden impulse to fly away from danger, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her defection which caused the first retreat that the Slaughterhouse Nine had ever pulled before engaging the enemy. Powerless, she stood in a ring of shards of glass that stubbornly refused to move an inch, no matter how furiously she hummed in the back of her throat.

At that point, she knew she couldn’t return to the Nine. She literally had nothing to offer them until her powers returned. The best result would end up with them walking away from her; at worst, they would murder her and then walk away.

Turning, she began to make her way down the other side of the hill. There was a four-lane highway nearby; perhaps she could hitch a ride.

As she got down to the road, a white van pulled over. A bearded older man was behind the wheel, but he looked as shell-shocked as she felt. She didn’t bother asking questions; she just climbed in and gestured. We can go now.

The van pulled out into traffic and headed off down the road.

<><>

Boston

Accord

Slowly, Accord stood up from his desk. This didn’t serve to make him any more imposing, as he was only five feet tall at the best of times. “What do you mean, you’ve all lost your powers?” he demanded.

Citrine swallowed, a nervous habit which he’d hoped to break her of. “Each of the Ambassadors that I’ve spoken with has reported that they don’t have powers anymore,” she reported crisply. “My powers are also no longer functional. I thought it best to bring this matter to your attention immediately.”

“I see,” he said icily. “I am going to have to speak to Cauldron on this matter immediately. This is unconscionable.” For a moment, he considered pulling the pistol that resided under his desk and shooting her, but desisted because he didn’t want to have to deal with the mess on the carpet. “Return to your duties.”

“Yes, sir.” Back ramrod straight, she left the room at a precise walk, the way he liked it. The door closed behind her.

Sitting down again, he straightened his lapels. “I would speak with Doctor Mother,” he said out loud.

Absolutely nothing happened.

<><>

Director Piggot

“It’s Janesha, isn’t it?” Emily glared at Armsmaster. “She’s behind this somehow.”

“While it’s true that she’s responsible for our only other instance of power loss in recent days, I would hesitate to blame her for all of this,” Armsmaster replied carefully. “You will recall that she had ample reason for her actions on that occasion, and that I extracted a promise from her to speak to me before removing the powers from any other Protectorate-affiliated person. That hasn’t happened this time, and in my experience, she is meticulous about keeping her word.”

Emily made a low growling noise in her throat. “Weld has vanished without trace from the Boston Wards, both Battery and Triumph have lost their powers, nobody has seen Eidolon for an hour or more, the entire Las Vegas Protectorate contingent has also lost their powers, and we have reports of Case Fifty-Threes vanishing right across the nation. Three-quarters of the inmates in the Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum have likewise disappeared into thin air. If this is the doing of Janesha of Mystal, I really, really want to know what’s going through her mind right now.”

Armsmaster nodded seriously. “I do understand your concern, ma’am. When I see her next, I will be sure to raise the issue. If you will recall, she was the one who uncovered Coil and was in the process of capturing him when a third party blew his head off.”

“I thought you said it was another parahuman, someone called Khepri, who was actually performing the capture.” Emily prided herself on recalling the important details of a case.

“That’s correct, ma’am.” Armsmaster sounded a little embarrassed at being caught on the back foot. “I misspoke. I should have said that she was assisting in his capture.”

“And this Khepri was the same person who accompanied her to take on the Simurgh? Who also hasn’t been seen in orbit since?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.” Armsmaster lifted his chin. “My view is that the ongoing absence of the Simurgh is a hopeful sign, and is in no way connected to the other disappearances.”

Emily frowned. “Wait, you’re saying that you think she could have actually beaten the Simurgh? How can a single cape, however capable, pull that off? God knows, the Triumvirate have tried often enough.”

“What little imagery we have shows Janesha inflicting more damage on the Simurgh in just seconds than our forces have done in hours,” reported Armsmaster imperturbably. “We lost sight of the end of the battle because the Simurgh apparently retreated behind the Moon, with Janesha and Khepri in pursuit on Cloudstrike. Janesha and Khepri have been sighted since, appearing none the worse for wear. The Simurgh has not. It’s not incontrovertible truth that she’s been destroyed, but it is strong circumstantial evidence all the same. I’ll be asking her about that when I see her next as well.”

<><>

Taylor

It was very weird, watching Lady Columbine at work. One moment, she stood at ease as they appeared to be having a telepathic conversation, and the next she turned and stared down at the grotesque below. Taylor also looked over the edge, and saw pulses of something—she wasn’t sure what, exactly, but she figured she was seeing it through her link with Janesha—ripple across the vast bulk of the creature below and store themselves in the one mostly-humanoid body that stood out in the middle of the whole thing.

Something occurred to her and she concentrated on a series of questions. Who are these people you’re pulling her essence from? Are they the ones who have been eating Edeena to gain powers? Are you taking their powers away from all of them?

Lady Columbine (because this sure as hell wasn’t the work of a human professor) held her right hand over the walkway palm down and looked to her left where Taylor stood. The ripple movement along the monstrosity of a goddess below continued. “When a celestial bequeaths power, it is done because the celestial wishes to gift it,” she said. “It may not be a fair situation to those beneath them, but it is the reality. You yourself have been given such a gift, simply for being Janesha’s friend. Unlike you, those who have incapacitated Edeena and stolen her essence to force that power-gain had no right to do so, which is why I have now returned that essence to her. Aside from those whose power-theft have left their mortal bodies unable to support them, there were also quite a few individuals who did not belong on your world. Those I have returned to their place of origin, or as close as I can without rewriting the history of their home worlds. As I said, sweetheart. No one was harmed; however, I cannot promise that this will remain the case, once Edeena recovers. What was done here is highly offensive …”

“That’s putting it fucking mildly,” Janesha growled, to which Lady Columbine jerked her head towards Janesha and raised one eyebrow reprimandingly. Janesha immediately threw her hands up and dipped her head in apology. “Sorry.”

The albino vervet monkey on Lady Columbine’s shoulder chittered in what Taylor could’ve sworn was human amusement.

“Oh, shut up, Bee,” Janesha groused. “No one asked you.”

The vervet monkey laughed even harder.

Taylor tried really hard to block out the byplay between Janesha and the monkey and stay on topic. “But what about the Case Fifty-Threes with amnesia? Will you undo that too?”

Lady Columbine sighed regretfully. “Of the three primary powersets available to a celestial, the mind is the only one that is beyond my ability to control. So unfortunately, those with amnesia will remain with amnesia. Perhaps that will be a blessing, as they will not remember what happened to them.”

Taylor couldn’t argue with that. She wouldn’t want to remember being one of those grotesque monsters. So she decided to change the subject. “Would you be offended if I asked you how old you are?”

Columbine chuckled lightly. “As in all things, age is a relative concept, my dear. By celestial standards, I am still very young; however, in my youth, there was a time I was not unlike Janesha and thought I had the universe by the tail. That was when I first visited Earlafaol. The world we found back then was very green and full of reptilian life forms. It was quite beautiful. I did not know back then that our unmasked presence would make the mortal reality throw out their dominant life form along with the bathwater in an effort to replicate us. Many thousands of millennia later, once I had mastered my craft to my mentor’s satisfaction, I returned to claim Earlafaol as my own, and the realm completed its evolution into humanity.”

The blithe statement smacked Taylor between the eyes. She did not doubt for even a second that Lady Columbine was telling the absolute truth. Her story was too unbelievable to be anything else. If Taylor was understanding things correctly, the slender young woman before her had literally been on Earth (an Earth, if not her particular Earth) as a teenager, just before the dinosaur-killing meteor had struck. And then she’d been in school for the better part of sixty million years, before returning to Earth to take up where she’d left off. Wow, and I thought my class periods went on forever.

“Excuse me!” The voice was masculine and unknown to Taylor, and it came from the doorway behind them. “I’m going to have to ask exactly who you are and what you’re doing here. This is a restricted area.”

The short female guard that had come across ahead of Lady Columbine had already stepped between them and the speaker. But unlike most petite fighters who took a side-on stance to make themselves more streamlined, this woman planted her feet shoulder-width apart with her knees slightly bent and her hands clenched into loose fists at her side like a pro-wrestler.

On the other side of the petite guard stood a tall, fit man in a suit with blond hair and glasses, holding a clipboard as if it were a weapon, or perhaps a shield. Behind him was a black woman in her forties or fifties.

Taylor wasn’t sure what to say or do, but Janesha was already on the move. “Well, well, well. This certainly saves me the trouble of hunting you pair down,” the teenage celestial said, moving past Taylor and the petite guard to get right into the face of the two newcomers. “Number Man and Doctor Mother. You would not believe how much I’ve been looking forward to this.” From the sound of her voice, Taylor could tell she’d lengthened her canines into fangs.

“Uh, Janesha?” murmured Taylor, glad for once that her full-faced mask allowed her to speak without her lips visibly moving. Ventriloquism had never been her forte. “Who are these people, and why do you sound like you want to tear them limb from limb?”

“Why? Because I do.” Janesha raised her voice. “Doctor Mother. What a stupid name. You’re neither a doctor nor a mother. You were the one who cut the pieces off Edeena and fed them to people, to infuse them with her essence, weren’t you?” Janesha’s tone was more accusatory than questioning, much as it had been with Eidolon.

Taylor stared at what she could see of the black woman. She looked remarkably ordinary for someone who had assisted with the cannibalisation of a god. The expression on her face showed that she knew something bad was happening, but she clearly didn’t understand the sheer depth of the shit she’d fallen into from a great height.

“I did what I had to do!” the woman called out; not defiantly, but resolutely. “Scion is more dangerous than anything else on Earth. We have to have some way to defend ourselves.”

Janesha rolled her eyes. “Oh, puh-leeze. The talot I killed the first day I got here was more dangerous than him.”

This information may have been old news to Taylor, but the way Lady Columbine stiffened and swung towards the young celestial, it was clear the situation had been more dire than the teen let on. “You fought a talot … alone?” the older celestial asked for confirmation, and suddenly Taylor felt the need to inspect the non-existent dirt around the soles of her boots.

“It—it was just a baby … and—and I’m fine,” Janesha argued, realising her glib remark had backfired massively. “And it wasn’t as if I went and hunted it down on purpose. It ambushed me. I had to defend myself.”

Lady Columbine pinched her lips together and shook her head ever so slowly in condemnation. “And you wonder why the elders prefer to keep a close eye on unestablished children. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” Janesha insisted.

“But you could have been, Janesha, and no matter how it went down, it was sheer luck you were not. Talots are world breakers and divine hunters by nature …”

“This was a baby, and it got distracted, so I got the drop on it. I’m fine, cousin. Honest.”

The blond guy must have decided that this was the time to make a move. He lunged forward, reaching for Janesha with one hand; the other pulled a pistol from behind his back.

In a blur of motion, he was intercepted by Lady Columbine’s bodyguard. One moment the petite guard was standing in the walkway between them, and the next she had the man face down on the walkway with his right arm wedged up between his shoulder blades on the other side of Janesha.

“Your orders, milady?” asked the woman, as casually as if she were inquiring about the weather.

“Rip his head off,” Janesha snarled, but Taylor could see (fortunately) that her friend wasn’t the ‘lady’ the guard deferred to.

Lady Columbine looked over the pair and said, “He is not yours to harm, Dee. We are here for Edeena.”

“He may not be hers to harm, but I’m the one that mortal moron was going to try and hold hostage,” Janesha argued, moving to stand over the prone parahuman with her fists clenched.

“No one is disputing that, sweetheart. Though if you plan on following through with your current rage, I would appreciate it if you took him somewhere else first. Edeena has been through quite enough trauma for one century.”

Janesha frowned, her eyes bouncing from Edeena to Lady Columbine in confusion. Her thumb rolled towards the mass below. “Why would she find the murder of a mortal to be traumatic, cuz? I mean Taylor, I can understand, since she’s one of them. But Edeena’s one of us …”

“Janesha.”

Wow. On top of everything else, Taylor decided Lady Columbine was definitely a parent. No one else could ever pull off a world of disapproval when saying someone’s name like that.

The black woman took their distraction as an opportunity to turn and run, but Taylor wasn’t having any of that and quickly gave chase. She’d never been fitter in her life and as she burst through the doorway, she hooked her hand on the frame and swung to the left, gaining valuable time. The corridor she found herself in wasn’t very long, and up ahead she saw the woman duck around another corner and out of sight.

Taylor charged after her. But just as she approached the corner, she heard a heartfelt scream of terror. Barely a second later, she collided heavily with Doctor Mother, who was now running back toward her. The older woman clung to her costume and ducked in behind her, babbling fluently in French. What little she could make out came more from her body language than her actual words, for the woman sank to the ground and ducked her head to make herself as small a target as possible.

Cautiously, not releasing her grip on Doctor Mother in case the woman tried to run off again, Taylor took a half step towards the corner and peered past the bend. There was nothing there, just another long, white corridor.

Nothing at all.

After searching all four surfaces, Taylor shrugged dismissively and with a tightening grip on the woman’s upper arm, she forced Doctor Mother to her feet and walked her back to the others. Doctor Mother didn’t resist, but she did spend most of her time looking back over her shoulder at the corner. “Le griffon,” she muttered. “Le griffon.”

“Nicely done, petal,” Janesha said over her shoulder as Taylor arrived. The man with blond hair was now on his knees in front of Janesha, and just like Eidolon, he stared straight ahead at nothing.

Score one to Lady Columbine, Taylor thought to herself, since the man was still here and alive.

“And guess what? We’ve got an original member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, here. Best buds with Jack Slash himself. Everyone, meet Harbinger, also known as the Number Man, the super-powered accountant.”

“WHAT?” The Slaughterhouse Nine were somehow involved in this nightmare that could still get the world destroyed? Funnily enough, once her brain had a chance to process that, Taylor started to feel more comfortable with the situation. The Slaughterhouse Nine were extremely bad, and no one would hold the world responsible for what they did, would they?

“I know, right?” Janesha went on, ignorant of her internal monologue. “His power is literally number-crunching. He’s also the doofus who thought he could take on Dee in hand to hand, which incidentally is going to be one of my go-to memories for a good laugh for a long time to come.”

“Why would the Slaughterhouse Nine give other people powers?”

“Oh, they didn’t. Harbinger left them when a better offer came along.”

Taylor couldn’t tell if Janesha was embellishing the story or not, but when it came to the Slaughterhouse Nine, it didn’t matter. “So was he in on this?” asked Taylor pragmatically. “The whole cutting up Edeena while she was still alive and feeding her to people? Did he eat any of her?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” Janesha answered. “He came in after they got started, but he was totally on board with all of it. He already had powers and had left the Nine by then. And he might not have started the process, but he kidnapped people and force-fed them vials, just to see what would happen. Innocent in all this, he ain’t.”

“Oh,” Taylor grimaced. That certainly sounded more like a Slaughterhouse Nine member. She pushed Doctor Mother into the ground alongside Harbinger, who made it as far as scrambling to her knees before she took on that same placid, long distance stare of her comrade. “What about her? Is she former Slaughterhouse Nine too? Oh, and just in case this is anything important, while I was chasing her, she got a huge fright and came running back to me. All I can get out of her is the word ‘griffin’, which doesn’t make much sense. But when I looked, I didn’t see anything at all.”

“Really?” Janesha glanced down at the black woman, then burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s just mean! I love it.” She looked to her left where Lady Columbine stood and added, “Don’t ever change, Bee. That was freakin’ beautiful.”

The albino vervet monkey with the butterfly wings uttered a proud snicker that was very human-like. When Taylor gave it a suspicious glance, it straightened its shoulders in a stylised preen and blinked back at her innocently.

Even without the butterfly wings, that would’ve been no normal vervet monkey, Taylor decided. It was far too smart for even its normally intelligent kin. But if it were a celestial version of ordinary monkeys … Taylor had no idea how smart they could get. She wasn’t about to lay any bets against it.

By now, the mass had retracted to reveal a woman cushioned on all sides by what Taylor could only describe as giant flower petals. Her body was cocooned in the petals with one rolled against her head like a pillow. The perennial then started to grow towards them out of the mass until the large flowerhead was alongside the walkway, at which point it tilted itself and peeled back its petals to reveal a beautiful woman with long silver hair dressed in silver silk pyjamas.

The moment the petals released their hold, the woman came to life with a gasp and lunged forward, only to be caught in a containing hug by Lady Columbine. “Sssshhh, sweetheart. It is alright. I have you …” Lady Columbine crooned, as the woman thrashed and screamed and cried all at once. It took some time for the woman to even think about calming down, and when she did, her eyes focused on her saviour and she went from fighting her to hugging her fiercely. “Lady Col,” she sobbed, inching her fingers closer together in a desperate bid for more contact.

Lady Columbine supported her weight as she continued to stroke her hair and shoulders and whisper kind words of comfort while rocking from side to side as if Edeena were a child and not a fully formed adult.

Taylor read a universe’s worth of hurt in Edeena; for despite her body being unmarred and healthy, she was walking wounded. And no wonder; no matter how whole she was now, having one’s very essence torn out and fed to strangers for thirty years had to leave some sort of scarring on the psyche.

The look Janesha sent Taylor had the teen nodding in agreement. Yeah, this was definitely intense, but Lady Columbine seemed to take it all in her stride, leaving Taylor to wonder just how many times she’d been called on to put someone’s broken pieces back together again like this.

It took several minutes for the sobbing to weaken into noiseless hiccups, but the moment Columbine shifted her weight, Edeena gasped and clung even more desperately to the woman she considered her rock. “It is alright, Edeena. I am not going anywhere. I just need you to answer one question honestly and then you can go back to sleep. Alright?”

Tension still rippled through the woman’s arms. “I-I feel like I’m being torn apart…” she stammered, on the verge of sobbing once more.

“I know,” Lady Columbine crooned. “Your essence has been at war with itself for a little while now, and it’s going to take time to bring it all back into a cohesive unit once more.”

“My-my what? I-I don’t understand. Why can’t I remember …”

“Perhaps that is for the best, for now.” As she spoke, Lady Columbine looked over Edeena’s head to Janesha. “In time, when you are ready, I will bring in someone who can slowly reintroduce you to the memories you are missing.” When Janesha nodded affirmatively, Lady Columbine smiled in gratitude and returned her focus to Edeena. “For now, all you need to know is your brother is here, and he is safe. Do you wish to stay here with him, sweetheart, or come home with me?”

“I want to go home!” the woman’s wail filled the room as she buried herself further into Lady Columbine’s embrace. “I don’t like it here! I don’t even know where here is! I don’t understand any of this! The last thing I remember was you dropping us off after taking us out to dinner to celebrate my early graduation this afternoon!” Her voice escalated with each new word. “Why can’t I remember the rest?”

“Sshhh, I know, baby. You are scared, and that is understandable. It is a very long story, and when you are feeling better, I give you my absolute word I will explain everything to you, in great detail. For now, I need you to trust me, sweetheart, and when you wake up, I will be right there beside you …” As she continued to speak, the tension drifted away from Edeena’s body until she sagged and finally collapsed in Lady Columbine’s arms. With only one arm supporting her weight, the powerful celest stroked her hair and kissed her brow. “There we go.”

“Told you,” Janesha said, moving to Taylor’s side. “Cousin Col is good.” Her voice held a distinct level of satisfaction.

Taylor nodded. “You did.” She glanced at Doctor Mother and Number Man, neither of whom had moved. Number Man’s pistol lay where it fell, as if it were no more dangerous than the clipboard nearby. Whatever Dee’s game was, Taylor had no idea. She was probably the celestial equivalent of a special-ops soldier, from the way she moved. No, that’s not terrifying at all. “So what happens now?”

“Now,” Lady Columbine said, lifting the unconscious woman in her arms. “Edeena needs to be taken back to Earlafaol, but before I leave, I need to speak with her brother.” She looked down and to the left of the girls. “Orson, I could use your help in this matter, handsome.”

A huge mountain of a man with short, golden brown hair appeared on the walkway to Taylor’s right. While Fenja and Menja could get taller, he was easily the largest unaltered person she had ever seen. At well over seven feet tall, he would’ve been even bigger than Manpower, with the matching build of a quarterback. The casual black t-shirt and jeans he wore hugged him in all the right places. Taylor wasn’t exactly sure where he’d come from, but she knew what he was; celestial, to the bone. She was starting to recognise the type.

“Eechee,” he said, crossing his arm over his chest and bowing reverently.

Lady Columbine smiled warmly at him. “Would you be a dear and take Edeena back to Earlafaol for me, please? I would like her to be set up in Trysten’s old room, though if you could have all the weaponry and magical components removed first, that would also be appreciated.” Instead of complying, Orson’s lips pinched together tightly and his brows merged into a dark frown to which Lady Columbine tilted her head ever so slightly and quickly added, “There are ninety-nine of your fellow pryde members, plus one of your own clutch-mates and my personal bodyguard remaining with me.” The look in her eyes was final when she said, “I will be fine, Orson.”

“What does ‘Eechee’ mean?” Taylor whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Boss, top dog, head kahuna, pryde leader … take your pick.”

Orson’s chocolate brown eyes flicked to the girls, and Taylor got the distinct impression he was assessing them for potential danger.

“Now you’re just clutching at straws, big guy,” Janesha chuckled, folding her arms in derision. Taylor did likewise, more as a show of unity between the two teens than any belief that she added anything to this situation.

Orson eyed them once more, then huffed irritably in sufferance. “Very well, Eechee.” He came forward and slipped his arms alongside Columbine’s to relieve her of her burden. The transfer between the two was a simple enough, and once it was done, he swivelled to stand on Lady Columbine’s left.

Taylor watched as Lady Columbine raised her hand (much as Janesha had) and said the name “Annette.” From Taylor’s point of view, nothing changed, but Lady Columbine’s lips parted into a fond smile. “I am sorry to wake you, sweetheart … yes, I am currently with Edeena. No, they have not returned to Earlafaol … yet, which is the reason for my blood-link. Orson will be accompanying Edeena home and seeing to her safety whilst I speak to Sagun. If you could rouse the staff and have them prepare Trysten’s old apartment for her, I will be along shortly.”

As they spoke, Orson’s gaze narrowed and it slid to his right towards Lady Columbine. “Do not leave her side again until I get back, sister,” he warned, ever so darkly. “Or I’ll have your pelt for a rug on my sitting room floor.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Apparently ignoring what Orson had said, Lady Columbine took the large man by the elbow and reached forward with her right hand. Another feminine hand with a short, well-manicured nail set slipped around Columbine’s wrist. Moments later, dozens of matching hands appeared all over Edeena’s body, each with their wrists vanishing into nothingness and aligned in the same direction. Every set of fingers burrowed between Orson and Edeena until the woman was lifted out of his arms. For a few seconds, she seemed to be floating on a series of levitating hands, but as she was carried away from Orson, more and more of her vanished until she was gone entirely.

“I could still stay,” Orson suggested, as one of those levitating hands appeared around Orson’s left wrist. He was looking back at Columbine beseechingly. “What if you need me here?”

Columbine’s smile was full of warmth as she squeezed his elbow indulgently. “Once you get back to the Prydelands, handsome, your poppa is going to be all over you to know where I went. It is too early in the morning to have him stirring the whole pryde into a battle frenzy when I will be back just as soon as I have spoken to Sagun. Of all your pryde-mates, you are one of the few who can stand your ground and reason with him when his emotions are overstimulated.”

“If he doesn’t throw me out the nearest window first for leaving you behind,” he muttered under his breath, but then he dipped his head in farewell to Lady Columbine and took the step that had him vanishing from sight.

As soon as he was gone, the vervet monkey made a deep raspberry sound at the empty space he’d previously filled, and was rewarded with a light but firm tap on her nose from Lady Columbine. “If you are not brave enough to say it to his face, do not be cowardly enough to ridicule him behind his back,” she said, reprimandingly.

“Did they just go back to Earlafaol?” asked Taylor, once again out of the side of her mouth.

“They sure did,” Janesha replied cheerfully, having none of the concern that Taylor did. “You should see the family compound there. It’s amazing. Even by our standards!”

Just for a moment, Taylor felt the urge to ask if she could visit. Earth Aleph didn’t have nearly as many capes as Bet did, but they at least knew of parahuman powers. Earlafaol wasn’t just another alternate; it was the original. Everything she thought of as pre-cape history hadn’t happened on Bet or Aleph, but it had happened for real on Earlafaol. Where parahuman powers had never happened, and never would. No Endbringers. No Slaughterhouse Nine.

“I could ask her if you could go over for a bit,” Janesha suggested, making Taylor wonder if she’d used mind-bending. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

The impulse passed, and Taylor shook her head. “I’d either love it or hate it, or wonder why I even wanted to go. No matter what, I’d probably end up regretting it.”

A bright golden light flashed in the middle of the huge chamber. When it faded, Scion was hovering there, staring around wildly. “Where is she?” he shouted. “Where is Edeena? What have you done with her?”

As Taylor blinked away the last of the flash, she heard Janesha’s sigh.

“Oooh boy. Is he in trouble.”

 Part Nineteen