Death's Mistress: Origins of Supers: Book One Read online

  He held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, “You just saw what you did to your car, right? You don’t want to go near your daughter without knowing exactly what you’re capable of, and how to control it. What if you shoot a laser out of your eyes when you look at her and feel a surge of emotions. Or what if you simply crush her with that amazing strength?”

  That was reasonable, but I wasn’t feeling reasonable. I was devastated my husband was dead and I wanted my little girl.

  He continued, “You need to come with me. Get tested, make sure you’re in control, before you kill yourself, or someone else, on accident.”

  My eyes flashed. Like he’d killed my husband, and would’ve killed me and my little girl if I hadn’t quickened? I felt lost. My anchor was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, dead. I was falling apart inside, and those parts were burning, going up in the flames of my rage and loss.

  Only my concern for my daughter held that darkness at bay and allowed me to maintain any semblance of sanity.

  “I want to tell her I’ll be back. I don’t have to touch her for that.”

  He shook his head, “You need to trust me, and trust in the system. Our councilors know how to explain it. She’ll understand, and you’ll see her again in less than forty-eight hours.”

  I gave in then, against my better judgement, against the rage and contempt I felt for this idiot and the supervillain that had probably escaped.

  “Did you catch him?”

  Freefall shook his head, “Two other heroes chased him off and followed, I came back to see what could be done here. I’m sorry. Will you come with me? I know this isn’t easy, but you know the law.”

  I bit my tongue, and I nodded. I chose to go with him, despite my doubts, despite the conspiracy theories, for my Wynn. She was all I had left, and if I ran then the government would take her from me, and I’d be a fugitive, a supervillain. I was also in shock, and I didn’t know how to deal with the anger in me. Lastly, I was still that geeky blonde girl with blue eyes, that sat in the library at college. That my loving husband had woken up and swept off of her feet.

  I wasn’t a hellraiser by any stretch of the imagination.

  Not yet, anyway.

  The rage I felt really wasn’t about Freefall at all, it was an impotent anger. My husband was gone, the life we’d built was over. The future plans we’d made were trashed.

  He asked, “We can land and take a car in, or if you think you’re up to it we can fly?”

  I replied sarcastically, “Just don’t get too close to anything, like a building.”

  He chuckled and flew off, and I didn’t see the humor in that as I followed.

  Flying was easy. All it took was a little focused desire to move in any direction I wanted, and no focus at all and I’d simply float. The strength, I figured I’d get used to that fast enough, and my toughness wasn’t exactly an active thing…

  Chapter Two

  The large concrete and steel government building looked ominous in that it had no windows. The country and state flags flew out front, and I gently touched down on the ground lightly behind Freefall. As soon as my feet touched ground it was a like a switch was thrown, and gravity reasserted itself on my body.

  Except, I felt incredibly light on my feet as I took a couple of steps, and it took me a minute to realize that was my super strength. I hadn’t lost weight, nor had the gravity of Earth changed.

  Freefall gave me a strange look, but I didn’t ask. Maybe he’d had trouble with flying in the beginning, and that’s how he’d gotten his super name, by free falling into the ground over and over again? Okay, probably not, but I didn’t really like Freefall very much in that moment. He’d killed my husband, and he’d stolen my daughter.

  Okay, not really, but he was very convenient to blame, and he’d certainly been involved.

  He held open the door for me, and when I gave him a look he grinned, “Safer this way, you don’t know your own strength yet.”

  I blew out a breath, and then walked past him into the lobby. It was all tinted glass, and silver struts and silvery wall paint. Even the security desk and floor were a shade of silver. The only exception was the large seal of the government’s super affairs bureau in the middle of the floor and a slightly smaller one hanging over the security desk. The SAB, for short. The seal itself was of an eagle with a flowing red, white, and blue cape behind it. Yeah, some dweeb in marketing must’ve come up with that one.

  I turned and asked, “What the hell happened,” afraid that when he left that I’d lose my chance to find out.

  He said, “The supervillain attacked me about a thousand feet up, from out of nowhere while on patrol. Just for the fun of it I suppose, since I’d never fought him before it couldn’t have been a grudge. I don’t even know his name, so it couldn’t have been. I don’t have supersonic flight, and didn’t have time to evade, and I hit that bridge going close to the speed of sound. There was no way I could’ve dodged, and I was knocked out for about thirty seconds. You saw him punt me about two miles with that girder, and you know the rest. I was relieved by stronger heroes and came back to the bridge to help.”

  I tried really hard to find fault with that. Asshole was just outclassed, apparently.

  “What now?” I asked shortly.

  He said, “The officer will check you in, take your information, and get you where you need to be. My advice is to let them open up all the doors, at least until they get to the strength tests and the strength control activities completed.”

  I stared for a moment as he turned around and left. I was also tempted to follow him out of the building and go find my daughter, but I pushed that need down. I’d lose her forever if I did that, or at best be forever on the run which was no life for a two-year-old. It was no life for me either.

  I could barely think past my husband’s death, and the need for my daughter, but I knew my life was about to get much harder than it’d been. I’d have to find a job fast, and even then, we’d have to move to a smaller and cheaper apartment as a single mother. It’d also have to pay enough to cover child daycare.

  Moving back home wasn’t an option. My parents had been pissed when I, their perfect little good girl, turned up pregnant in my senior year of college. They’d hated Brad with a passion. I was lucky they even paid the rest of my tuition. I shook my head. I’d plan later, when I got out of here, and the shock wore off a little.

  I turned back to the security guard, and I suppressed the exasperated rage as I’d caught him practically drooling over my ass. It was a total overreaction on my part, I was used to that kind of attention for years, and the slight annoyance of being ogled was usually easy to push down.

  But Brad had just died, been pulverized before my eyes, and my life as I knew it was over. My usual patience for social niceties was quite spent. I did manage to get it under control though, when whatever he saw on my face made him wince backwards.

  I stepped forward carefully. Maybe freefall was wrong, but I didn’t want to break the government building out of stubbornness either.

  “Officer Barnes,” I read his nametag, “I just quickened. I’m Christabel Moore.”

  “Miss Moore, do you have I.D.?”

  I scowled, “Mrs…” then the world fell down, and I felt like my guts were being ripped out.

  “Ms. Moore, and I’m sure I do. In the car, on the bottom of the ocean.”

  Barnes blushed, “A no would’ve sufficed, ma’am. We can verify with facial recognition, that is if you still look like you, I mean.”

  I frowned, some people changed slightly when they quickened, became the best they could be according to their DNA. It would erase stunted growth, scars, or any other of a hundred reasons a human wasn’t their best. It also explained the small mirror on the wall behind him. I looked into it reluctantly, and almost cried with relief that I looked the same as I always had. Long golden blonde hair down to my shoulder blades, vivid blue eyes, soft and high cheekbones with lightly tanned skin.

 
My body didn’t look all that different either. At least my breasts were the same thirty four B’s I’ve had since I was sixteen that looked rather generous on my petite body. I was a short woman, a little athletic, at five foot one. I suspected the stretch marks were gone, and my flat and toned stomach that I’d never quite gotten back to after the birth was back as well, but I could check that later.

  It probably wasn’t that important in the scheme of things, but it felt very important in that moment. Not my body, but that not everything had changed, and that I looked the same. Maybe I was so shocked in my grief that I couldn’t take one more thing, or maybe I was just a vain bitch, but it was a relief when everything seemed to be normal that way.

  “My face is the same.”

  He looked impressed, which made me think he was a pig, but I let it go as he took a quick picture of me with a small camera plugged in his computer. The wait was indeterminable, but again, my body felt completely fine except for the physical sensations of grief. It wasn’t like my legs were going to get tired anytime soon, not anymore, not for the rest of my life probably. It was more than that, I felt energized and alive, and like I could do anything.

  Except save my husband, which was the continuing stress on my sanity, while thoughts of my probably scared and upset Wynn kept me from totally losing it. I’d never not been there for her, not for the last two years, and I wasn’t sure I knew how to handle that. In truth, she was probably handling the separation better than I was. Or at least, that was my hope.

  He finally said, “Here it is. I know this might be painful, but can you tell me what happened?”

  I said shortly, “Super battle. My husband died, and my daughter and I plummeted off the bridge. That triggered my quickening, and I kept the car from sinking. A superhero helped my daughter out, and then took me here.”

  He frowned, “It’s not in the system yet, but they’ll append your report later with the case number so that shouldn’t be a problem. Someone will be out in a moment to take you to your temporary quarters for your evaluation. Feel free to shower, change into the provided clothes, and there’s food and drink in there as well.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t bring myself to say thank you. The words stuck in my throat as thoughts of Brad and missing my daughter invaded. I really didn’t want to be a super, I hated supers. All they did was kill people, cause collateral damage, and make more of themselves by doing so.

  Sure, superheroes meant well, but fighting supervillains only ever led to pain and misery for others. I wasn’t sure there was a good alternative either, supervillains could be vile and sadistic killers and they took and destroyed what they wanted to. Leaving them to do so wouldn’t be any better, and likely much worse in truth, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Barnes asked in a calm concerned tone, “Ma’am, are you alright?”

  I frowned, what a stupid question.

  “No. I’m not. I just lost my husband. But I have control over myself.”

  Barnes asked, “Why are you looking away from me?”

  “Freefall said I might shoot lasers out of my eyes.”

  Barnes chuckled, then looked guilty, “Sorry. I appreciate your caution. It shouldn’t be long…” he trailed off as the door opened, and a swarthy man with a clipboard and a lab coat held open the door.

  “I’m lab technician Raymond. Follow me please… Ms. Moore?”

  I nodded, and walked through the door, then waited for him to lead me onward. The doors past the lobby were all reinforced steel and looked like miniature bank vaults, not exactly reassuring. The hallway continued on for a while, then turned to the right where he led me to an open door.

  Raymond said, “Feel free to take a shower and change. Your first test will be in about an hour. I’m to understand you already know you have strength and flight?”

  I nodded, “Yes. I seem to be rather durable as well.”

  Raymond nodded, “That’s common with high strength, and we’ll test those limits as well. It’d do no good to lift up a truck one handed if it’d snap your bones.”

  That was a good point, but I didn’t care overmuch, and walked past him into the room. The large steel door slammed shut, and I breathed out a heavy sigh as I was finally alone. I didn’t trust it, there had to be cameras in there, so I walked into the bathroom and hoped they had at least some decency as I closed the door and stripped down. There were sweats on the bathroom counter already, in my size, along with undergarments.

  That’s the first time I noticed the blood on my pants, my husband’s blood, why didn’t anyone say anything? No wonder they were all looking at me strangely and telling me to take a shower. I tossed my bloody clothes into the trash, I never wanted to see them again.

  I stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The metal handle creaked, it didn’t turn as far as I’d expected it to, and I winced and let go. I imagined this room was more durable than most, but I’d have to be more careful than that.

  As the hot spray hit me, I finally let myself fall apart. I really hoped there were no cameras, as I fell to my knees, covered my face, and wept. I’d loved Brad more than life itself, and it was only my daughter that saved me again. I pulled myself together for her sake and grabbed the cake of soap and started washing myself.

  I was right about my stretch marks, they were gone, and my stomach was even flatter and more toned than it’d been five years ago at eighteen. When I soaped up my ass, I had to twist and look at it in shock, that looked better than it ever had before too. Supple and more petite than I’d ever been able to get it before, while still being full.

  I checked the bottom of my right foot next, and the scar from stepping on a nail as a child was gone as well. My skin was both blemish and scar free. The thought that I couldn’t wait for Brad to see, and seduce him with it, wracked my chest with pain. How many more random thoughts like that would I have, until I’d accepted the truth.

  I finished showering in daze of grief, and I got out and started to dry myself off.

  Raymond said from the next room, “Ms. Moore? Your first test is ready.”

  Had it been an hour already? How long had I been sobbing in the shower? It didn’t feel that long. I dried as fast as I could, and smirked when I said, “Just a minute, but you can scratch superspeed off your list.”

  I pulled on the clothes. The generic panties they gave me were a little uncomfortable, but they fit, and I pulled on the sports bra and sweats. My hair was a mess, but there was a brush and several hair ties in one of the bathroom drawers. I quickly brushed out my hair, and I put it up in a damp ponytail.

  Raymond smiled when I came out, and I resisted the urge to punch him. Don’t these morons know I’m grieving?

  “What’s the first test?”

  He shook his head, “Can’t tell you that. It might influence the results. The second one is strength, fair enough?”

  I shrugged, not sure that I cared, but why would knowing what it was affect the results? I followed him out into the hallway, and down the way we came until we reached the elevator. He pressed the down button, so we were going underground and not up, which was probably a bunch of government offices and officials. It also didn’t bode well in my mind, but I went with it.

  He took us to sublevel two, and there were two doors in front of us side by side. He pointed at the right one, then went into the left one.

  I let out a deep sigh, and I opened the door on the right as carefully as I could. It opened easily and soundlessly, but it was only after I saw how thick it was, and that it was solid steel, that it occurred to me I’d just taken my first test. The door had to have been a ton, perhaps more.

  I stepped inside, and Raymond’s voice came through a speaker, “Close the door please, and the first test will start.”

  I looked to my left, and there was a large mirror there. I suspected the whole second level was a series of test rooms, and he was behind the one-way glass in the observation booth. I shrugged, and I reached out in the hall to grab
the handle. I pulled it closed gently.

  The door clanged shut and the lights immediately went out. It was pitch black. I wouldn’t be able to see my hand an inch from my face. I felt a surge of annoyance, what the hell kind of test was a dark room? That annoyance faded a split second later, as my yearning for light was answered.

  A soft gentle glowing light filled the room, and I was momentarily baffled as I looked for the source, until I saw my face in the mirror, and it was glowing.

  My face, was glowing. Like a damned night light. Not just my face either, my whole body. Even my hair and my hands. There was even a light glow around the clothes, which made me pull out the neck of the sweatshirt and look down. Yup, my whole damned body was glowing like a firefly’s ass.

  There was a noise, and I looked back forward and saw a crude looking target raise up out of the floor.

  Raymond said, “Looks like you might have some kind of energy power as well. Try to hit the target with your light, like a flashlight instead of a soft glow.”

  I shook my head as I raised my hand, and with a little focus, just like flying, a beam of light left my hand and struck the target. It was bright, like a spotlight.

  He hummed after a few seconds, “Can you imagine it getting hotter?”

  I focused on that. The idea of burning the target, nothing happened.

  “Nope, looks like all I can do is light. No energy attacks, which is fine with me.”

  Raymond grumbled something that I didn’t quite make out. I got the impression he was disappointed for some reason.

  The room flooded with the normal light, and I shut down my glowing with an easy thought. So far flight and night light duty was pretty easy, almost natural. Of course, they were totally new talents, which meant I had no muscle memory or expectations for them. It’d be harder to adjust to super strength, I thought. Since my mind did have expectations that way, and now they were all wrong.

  He said, “Can you touch the small silver balls on the target please?”