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  I snatched up the card, my heart somewhere around my throat.

  "Miss you. -N"

  Chapter 2

  The flowers must have cost a fortune. I crept after Nishelle, casual and easily blending in among the other scrub-covered hospital staff. I held an armful of files and wondered if she even recognized me. The dark circles under my eyes, the scruff on my chin, how long my hair was these days; I'd changed plenty in 5 years and I usually appeared as an animal on the news. All the better keep my cover from being blown.

  After all, it's hard to pin down someone in a cat's body when they're running around in the back of an ambulance trying to save your life or the life of someone you love.

  She wore a black t-shirt, a black pair of jeans, and white sneakers that didn't have an ounce of dirt on them. She'd pulled her many braids back into a knot against the top of her head. They looked weighty but she didn't seem to notice them. Her steps slowed as she approached the cardiology department and I walked along in front of her toward the nearest exit. I stopped long enough to flirt with a co-worker, though my heart wasn't in it.

  I'd only been single for a few weeks, and I still wasn't certain that it was official.

  Lexi, Wreckless, had torn off to who knew where with the woman who'd stabbed us all in the back. Creed's sister, Isabella, was who knew where, too. And if I found either of them any time soon, it was likely I'd tear their damned heads off their shoulders.

  None of us had been allowed back in the Alliance building since Isabella and Lexi's betrayal. Indeed, we were all stuck in apartments or hospital rooms, some even living out of hotels as they risked life and limb on a too-regular basis to keep Yarborough from getting sucked into a nightmare dystopian situation.

  Lexi had been my fiancée, the love of my life, and I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. The very thought of her brought forth the pinprick sensation I associated with fur pulling forth from my skin. I shook it away as best I could. I couldn't transform in the middle of the hospital. It would terrify the naive, the innocent, and those who were utterly unsuspecting that a superhero was busy... moonlighting? daylighting, maybe, as an EMT and part-time nurse.

  Nishelle walked past me and I waited for a count of three before I picked up her trail again. She strode out the doors and put on a pair of sunglasses, ignoring the frowns of those passing by. A pair of glasses, letting her hair down, maybe toss on a hat and she'd be a block away by the time most people could recognize her.

  I didn't need eyes when I had multiple predator senses at my disposal.

  My cover as a nurse wasn't as good outside the hospital as it was in. I stayed far enough away that she wouldn't see me reflected in the shop windows as we continued through the crowd. Here and there I shed my scrubs, putting on a pair of my own sunglasses and messing up my hair. Her scent, a familiar berry lip gloss and coconut, were evident enough throughout the crowd that I had no trouble following her.

  I could hardly believe she was still using the same body wash. But then, I remembered Cassie and she both coming out of the locker room how many times, both smelling like it and-

  No, I forced that thought away, too. I didn't want to consider relationships, even those that weren't my own, for the moment. My chest tightened and I held my breath for a second. Men did not burst into tears on the sidewalk just because they'd lost their significant other.

  The concussive force from several streets over made the window shatter right next to my head. I grabbed the stone wall just in front of me to keep from falling as the pedestrians dropped and shrieked in terror; as they tended to do in situations like that. Nishelle's head whipped around, spotted me, and I saw her scowl. She jerked her chin toward whatever the hell had exploded in the distance, and took off at a run.

  I dropped to all fours and raced after her, my tongue falling from my mouth as the change took me.

  Shapeshifting isn't the most pleasant thing in the world but, much like lifting heavy weights or working a hard job constantly, some part of your body gets used to it and normalizes it. I guess it's the lizard side of your mind. No, not the literal lizard; I don't have some internal dragon shape. Or at least, I haven't figured it out, yet.

  Bones and joints flexed, stretched, and changed even as I ran down the street behind her. My hands became paws, my shoes falling off the hind paws that were much too small for my loafers. Clothing was nearly impossible to contend with when I was without my suit, but the public good was worth $20 in sweatpants and a tank top.

  My caramel and pepper fur streaked along my limbs and, per usual, the final change took my teeth to become a great deal more pointy than usual. I snarled and leapt at the chance to take a bite out of crime as my mind kicked into predator mode. Sweeping around a corner and using my tail for balance, I caught up to Nishelle and passed her easily enough. Just like old times.

  Harcourt Mall had been our group's eternal respite from Scribe and the rest of our teachers. Now, it was a towering inferno and home to thousands of screaming, terrified civilians who had been out having as good a time as you could have in a decrepit, broken down old wasteland. Like any mall, the place had fallen into disrepair. Everyone shopped online these days. Why bother with brick and mortar if you didn't have to?

  Especially when things like this happened now and again.

  Look, superheroes aren't pre-cognizant... unless you're one lucky Psychic superhero. We only have a couple of those in the entire Alliance, to the best of my knowledge, and they don't see anything in a straight path. They see flashes, possibilities, and a lot of horrors. They're usually kept heavily sedated unless we have to bother them. It keeps them happier that way.

  Nishelle rolled her eyes at the flames and snapped her fingers. Out in a second, just like that. I stared at her and waited for her to faint, to falter, anything to prove she was human. The rush of power she'd used brought a shrieking vacuum of oxygen in through the doors and out of the hole in the roof.

  She didn't so much as twitch. I panted, my ears flat. She ignored me for a second before rushing toward the mall. I followed her, again, put off by her haste and the fact that she hadn’t collapsed. Wherever she’d been for the past half a decade, she’d learned better control than she’d ever had before.

  The doors flooded with flames and a boy stalked from them, his head held high. He was tall for his age, perhaps 13 or 14 from his appearance. He'd have never been cleared to go on a mission by himself and the way he walked? The kid hadn't been discovered. He had to be the fourth or fifth Pyro who had sprung up out of nowhere, and outside of the usual age range, too.

  Most superhero powers appeared before puberty or just at the forefront of it. Because, you know, being an awkward teenager isn't enough. Whoever's running the universe decided that nearly magical powers (and sometimes actually magical) needed to pop up when kids were at their most tender and vulnerable.

  Whoever's running the universe is a real prick.

  Nishelle tore the flames from around the boy and whipped them back in his face. He didn't know what hit him. The kid shrieked and flailed, trying to put himself out as he dropped to the ground. All his control of the fire? The flames? Absolutely gone. I paced backward, flinching from the explosion of heat, and stared at her.

  She was in her glory, all triumph and majesty. And I understood, really understood. It was why she was creeping around instead of coming to visit Cassie or any of the rest of us. It was why she hadn't reported in to the skeleton crew still manning the remainder of the alliance building.

  Something was wrong with Nishelle.

  Lexi, Izzy, and now Nishelle.

  Who was going to fall next?

  I pounced, intent on cutting her concentration and her connection with the kid. It would be enough for him to be put out by the firemen already waiting to do so. And it might bring her to her senses. Instead, she spun and popped me with a burst of hot air that left me feeling like I'd taken a ten-mile run in the desert. My fur felt as though it were about to explode.

 
; Screaming, half wolf, half cat, I threw myself back to the ground and rolled just like they taught you to do in elementary school. You remember; the weird smoke trailer, the dalmatian that told you to fight drugs and stop fires, and stop, drop, and roll.

  It wasn't working. Heat ate toward my skin, sending hellish pain and then the horrible sensation of nothing. So much nothing, all wrapped up in the silence from my nerves as it-

  And then it was gone. I stared up at her from the ground, my mouth open against the pavement. The crowd was silent as she stood there, her hands extended and looking around at what she'd done, at what was really going on. Her head swiveled to focus on the kid, who was still being put out by the firemen. And then she clenched her fist.

  The fire vanished throughout the scene. Every last drop of it.

  "Ember, listen-" I started.

  She turned her head, watched me for a moment, then took off toward one of the abandoned storefronts as fast as her feet could carry her. I groaned, tried to push away the pain in my mind, and forced my body into the shape of a large, predatory cat. They were the sort that could run circles around the beast that I had just been and the kind of animal I needed to be to catch up to her.

  "Just because you did hurdles in high school doesn't mean you needed to keep up with it," I muttered to myself.

  Nishelle didn't hear me. I gathered my paws under my body and sprinted after her as quickly as I could. She shot through one of the department store doors, slamming it after her and sending glass sprinkling to the pavement. Whether that was intentional or not, who was to say? I leapt the glass; paws are not made for sharp edges like that, and followed her scent through the women's clothing section.

  Down we chased through the clothes, the toys, and even into bedding. She was searching for an escape route, some way to get rid of me and disappear into the scene outside. It wouldn't be hard to do in the mall. The smoke in the air was already making it difficult for me to find her.

  As we reached the opposite entryway into the mall, I hit a cloud of perfume that almost knocked me off my feet. I keened, dropped, and rubbed my face against the ground and into the mall proper, my ears flat against my head. My sinuses screamed, my eyes watered, and I coughed like I was about to bring up a furball.

  I caught sight of her running across the way and out into another department store. There, she hosed the entryway down with perfume by pitching a whole display over on her way toward the kid's clothing section. The image of mine and Lexi's children to be, all dressed in the most adorable frilly skirts and pressed slacks, blinded me for a few breaths. It was so hard to let my dreams die, but hadn't she made her choice? And Lexi had done it in front of the entire world.

  Hissing, I sprang across the tiles and chased after Nishelle. She was nowhere to be found within the store, but her scent was everywhere. Yes, it was hidden somewhat by the perfume spill, but it doubled back three times and roped around the rest of the various sections. At last, I sniffed my way to the escalator and sighed. The damn thing was still running.

  Just my luck. I waited until I found a step that had her scent all over it, but the next one didn't. A dead end. She'd stepped on the walkway and jumped right off again. It was just another way to confuse me.

  I scowled. She was certainly gone by then, by the time I realized what she'd done. Another failure, another screw-up. I swatted the stair with a paw, just to make myself feel better. It knocked the whole revolving staircase off its band and sent the step I'd smacked flying. I blinked after it, head tilting, and cleared my throat.

  That was what the Alliance's collateral damage fund was for, right?

  That and the poor kid who was scorched to pieces out there.

  Damn it, he needed me a hell of a lot more than Nishelle did. I'd worked in the burns and trauma unit for how many years? I walked over to the men's clothing section, shifted to human form, and pulled on a pair of clothes. The magnetic tag gave me a little trouble in removal, but the paper ones didn't. I snagged a pair of shoes, got my hair into some form of order, and ran out another exit to the mall. Then I looped around the building and made certain I came through the big group of ambulances, fire trucks, and police vehicles all gathered around the food court entrance.

  Two friends were already working on the kid. I hopped into the back of the ambulance. Easier to get a ride back to Mercy than to run the whole way. Both shot me an odd look, but I did my best to act as if I belonged there.

  The kid made it to the hospital in stable condition, which was more than I could say for his clothes. I grabbed the clipboard and slid out once they got his gurney in.

  "Don't know your name, little dude," I murmured. "Pyro-kinetic powers displayed at Harcourt Mall, extensive damage. Recommend transfer to superhero wing under Doctor Alores's care."

  I scribbled as I spoke, trying to think of any other details to add. I didn't want to incriminate Ember. Ardent? Whatever Nishelle was calling herself these days. It didn't matter, exactly, who had done the damage. Or, rather, it didn't matter to the outside world who had done the damage.

  It mattered a hell of a lot that she was capable of frying a kid like that. And it mattered a lot more that she'd shown up 5 years after her own death, the murder that put Cassie away for that self-same half-decade. Especially when Izzy and Lexi had gone rogue that same night.

  Was Nishelle working with them? Were the flowers... on the level? I dropped the clipboard off at the nurse's station and non-chalantly tried to cruise my way toward the elevators. It probably looked like I was power walking. Cassie was still in pretty awful condition, and if someone wanted to finish her off? It was the perfect time to do it.

  My pace sped up. I smacked the elevator's up button and stepped inside. The 20 seconds it took to reach her floor were the longest of my life. Thankfully, her door wasn't very far down the hallway.

  Inside, Cassie sat staring at the television with rapt attention. She held a flower to her chest, her eyes bright and a smile plastered wide across her face. I moved to grab the flower, but she pulled it away and beamed up at me.

  "Did you see her? Did you? You were right there, Nate. Did she say anything to you?"

  The hope in her eyes shined so bright. I couldn't crush it, not when she was still hospitalized. We knew the cruelties of the world, the nightmares in the darkest, deepest places. The sort of areas where no light shines through and even the people in the area seem... dingier.

  We'd both been there.

  Hell, I was there right now.

  "She said to tell you she brought those flowers for you," I lied, sinking down beside her. "And that she'll be back when she can. She's just busy right now, what with the Alliance in shambles at the moment."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah, Cass," I said, trying to warm my voice. I'd give anything to let her have the comfort she deserved. Adam and Edwin weren't going to be up for that for a long time and-

  ...And?

  Some part of me raised a brow at myself. It eyed me, it took me to task. Cassie had more than enough going on in her life. She didn't need to be some... some... correction in my life. A rebound date. Or whatever. It wasn't like she was interested anyway, and I wasn't ready for it even if she was.

  She snuggled into my chest and turned her head to watch the television. Her whole body tensed when Nishelle ran off and I felt her grip the flower tighter. The news didn't recognize Nishelle out of her supersuit, thank goodness. The PR team was already having a hell of a time dealing with what social media had captured during the battle three weeks ago. They didn't need one of ours, if Nishelle was one of ours anyway, burning a kid up on national television.

  I tried to put it out of my mind. Instead, I held Cassie like she needed to be held and we watched her girlfriend, apparently, save a kid's life.

  Chapter 3

  For the first time in weeks, I had dinner with my men.

  And it was wonderful.

  Adam leaned around me as we splayed on my bed, the three of us watching Netflix. The superhero
wing of the hospital had a few extra amenities that we deeply appreciated. One of those was streaming service. Television, music, radio, and even movie pay-per-month subscriptions had kept me sane from the moment I'd awaken. Which, admittedly, had taken a little while.

  The fried chicken delivery guy gave us a coy look and I could see him trying to figure out who we were. He knew me, of course. Nishelle's murder trial had plastered my face all over the world. Edwin and Adam still had their secret identities intact. I nudged Adam with my elbow, but he only grinned at me and tipped the delivery guy. Sure, Adam usually used some ridiculous bravado when he spoke under his Creed alias, but some people were good enough with voices to pick his out.

  Did you know your average fast food chicken joint takes an hour to fry a hundred pieces? All of it was dark, except for Creed's 12 breasts. As he reached into a bucket, I dove forward faster than him and snuck one of them out.