didn’t know when to stop being
self-sacrificing and heroic. “I’m not the one bleeding all over the place. Shouldn’t
you get that looked at?”
“It’s already stopped.”
He frowned at the bloody mess all over his hands and the handkerchief. “I
should get cleaned up. You sure you don’t want anything? A Coke? Chocolate? I
hear sugar’s good for staving off shock.”
“I’m not shocky, but a
Coke sounds good. Thanks.” Heroes were a weird breed. Even a pint short,
Justice couldn’t stop looking after others. “Sorry about making you bleed.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve
never had a bloody nose before. It’s kind of a novelty.”
One of the aspects of
superstrength was a general invincibility, but Lucien had gotten plenty scraped
up before he’d come into his powers. “Did you always have your powers? Even as
a kid?”
“Nah. Most of my powers
kicked in at puberty—pretty standard for second-gen—but I’ve always had at
least some resistance to injury. And I wasn’t really much of a brawler as a
kid. No reason anyone would try to bloody my nose. What about you?” At first
she thought he was asking her if anyone had ever tried to bloody her nose, but
then, “When did your powers kick in? Mind-bender powers tend to develop pretty
late, don’t they?”
“Usually, but mine came
in when I was seven.” With a little help from her father’s treatments.
Justice blinked. “Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder you…” He
trailed off, thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say, but Mirage
needed to hear it. Some part of her needed to know what he thought of
her.
“What?”
“It’s just, you’ve
never seemed twenty to me. You’re—”
“Too broken to be so
young?”
“I was going to say
jaded. Tired. Like you’ve seen too much and you’re exhausted by life already. Not
broken.”
Is that any better?
He lifted a hand, as if
he would have scrubbed his face, and stopped himself, seeing the dried blood
caked on his palm. “I’ll get you that soda.”
Mirage waited until the
door swished shut behind him then retreated to the far corner and sank to the floor,
wedging herself back until the walls pressed comfortingly against her back. She
dropped her forehead onto her raised knees. What had gone wrong? Their first
attempt at forced clarity had been a resounding failure.
Or rather, their second
attempt. The first attempt, outside the bank last night, had gotten through—because
she wasn’t braced for it? Had she somehow rejected his help today? She hadn’t
consciously meant to fling him out like that, but she couldn’t deny she’d had
doubts, an internal resistance she’d tried, unsuccessfully, to push aside.
How could she trust
another man prowling around inside her head? Even if his name was synonymous
with honor and virtue. What if he bent her into his own image just as Kevin
had? He may not even see that it was wrong because he would be making her good —which
sounded dreadful to someone who’d never seen herself as a good girl.
But if she had somehow
expelled him from her mind, how had she done it? That kind of physical
manifestation of a psychic blast indicated a lot of power. Power she’d
never had. Was Lucien right? Were her powers growing? Or was he only half right
and they were mutating?
Mirage shuddered. The
last thing she needed was a second puberty on top of everything else screwing
her up. Learning to cope with her powers had been hard enough the first time. She
didn’t want to go through those erratic fluxes again, when she could never be
sure if her powers would work or not.
Though at the moment, everything she tried was working. The limits she’d always had seemed to have vanished. She
simply imagined something and it was done. Her visions made illusion with
virtually no exertion. And no power hangover. It shouldn’t be possible.
Something cold touched
her arm and Mirage jerked, her head snapping up. Justice waved the chilled Coke
can in
self-sacrificing and heroic. “I’m not the one bleeding all over the place. Shouldn’t
you get that looked at?”
“It’s already stopped.”
He frowned at the bloody mess all over his hands and the handkerchief. “I
should get cleaned up. You sure you don’t want anything? A Coke? Chocolate? I
hear sugar’s good for staving off shock.”
“I’m not shocky, but a
Coke sounds good. Thanks.” Heroes were a weird breed. Even a pint short,
Justice couldn’t stop looking after others. “Sorry about making you bleed.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve
never had a bloody nose before. It’s kind of a novelty.”
One of the aspects of
superstrength was a general invincibility, but Lucien had gotten plenty scraped
up before he’d come into his powers. “Did you always have your powers? Even as
a kid?”
“Nah. Most of my powers
kicked in at puberty—pretty standard for second-gen—but I’ve always had at
least some resistance to injury. And I wasn’t really much of a brawler as a
kid. No reason anyone would try to bloody my nose. What about you?” At first
she thought he was asking her if anyone had ever tried to bloody her nose, but
then, “When did your powers kick in? Mind-bender powers tend to develop pretty
late, don’t they?”
“Usually, but mine came
in when I was seven.” With a little help from her father’s treatments.
Justice blinked. “Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder you…” He
trailed off, thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say, but Mirage
needed to hear it. Some part of her needed to know what he thought of
her.
“What?”
“It’s just, you’ve
never seemed twenty to me. You’re—”
“Too broken to be so
young?”
“I was going to say
jaded. Tired. Like you’ve seen too much and you’re exhausted by life already. Not
broken.”
Is that any better?
He lifted a hand, as if
he would have scrubbed his face, and stopped himself, seeing the dried blood
caked on his palm. “I’ll get you that soda.”
Mirage waited until the
door swished shut behind him then retreated to the far corner and sank to the floor,
wedging herself back until the walls pressed comfortingly against her back. She
dropped her forehead onto her raised knees. What had gone wrong? Their first
attempt at forced clarity had been a resounding failure.
Or rather, their second
attempt. The first attempt, outside the bank last night, had gotten through—because
she wasn’t braced for it? Had she somehow rejected his help today? She hadn’t
consciously meant to fling him out like that, but she couldn’t deny she’d had
doubts, an internal resistance she’d tried, unsuccessfully, to push aside.
How could she trust
another man prowling around inside her head? Even if his name was synonymous
with honor and virtue. What if he bent her into his own image just as Kevin
had? He may not even see that it was wrong because he would be making her good —which
sounded dreadful to someone who’d never seen herself as a good girl.
But if she had somehow
expelled him from her mind, how had she done it? That kind of physical
manifestation of a psychic blast indicated a lot of power. Power she’d
never had. Was Lucien right? Were her powers growing? Or was he only half right
and they were mutating?
Mirage shuddered. The
last thing she needed was a second puberty on top of everything else screwing
her up. Learning to cope with her powers had been hard enough the first time. She
didn’t want to go through those erratic fluxes again, when she could never be
sure if her powers would work or not.
Though at the moment, everything she tried was working. The limits she’d always had seemed to have vanished. She
simply imagined something and it was done. Her visions made illusion with
virtually no exertion. And no power hangover. It shouldn’t be possible.
Something cold touched
her arm and Mirage jerked, her head snapping up. Justice waved the chilled Coke
can in
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