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Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. Feels like I haven’t checked in with you in a bit.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I know,” Nick said. He let out a frustrated breath. “But that shouldn’t matter. We’re a team. You and me.” He paused. “And Mom.” Of course she was included. She was part of them. He glanced over Dad’s shoulder to find her surrounded by Mary, Aysha, Jo, and Martha. But whatever they were talking about, she wasn’t paying attention. All her focus was on Nick and Dad. She smiled when she saw Nick looking at her and gave a little wave.
“We are, aren’t we?”
Nick nodded, though something tickled along his mind, a thought he couldn’t quite grasp. Faint yet adamant:Before. After. Before. After.He didn’t know what it meant, so he ignored it. “We are.”
“You certainly have a way with words, kid. Speaking of, I wanted to talk to you about your fic. What’s it called?Burning Pleasure?”
“It’sA Pleasure to Burn,” Nick hissed at him. “And why the hell were you reading that?!”
Dad laughed. “I wanted to see the darkest depths of my son’s imagination.” His smile faded slightly. “And it went much, much darker than I expected it to.”
Nick groaned, tilting his forehead against his father’s shoulder, the angle awkward. He hadn’t done this in a long time, and he was startled to realize he was as tall as Dad. He didn’t know when that’d happened. His father had always been the biggest person in his world, both figuratively and physically. Strange, then, that in the end, he was still just a man. “Please tell me you didn’t read all of it. Because if youdid,I need to figure out a defense for my depravity.”
“That’s what we’re calling it, huh? Pretty good word for it, if you ask me. Yes, I read every word, and let me tell you, some of those descriptions of Pyro Storm were a little too close to—”
“Do you trust me?” He didn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t even sure where it came from. Too late now.
Dad stopped. Everything stopped. The music. The other people. All of it gone, because Nick could see his father’s mind processing. Surprise, then something akin to suspicion. A flash of sadness, like grief. Nick knew his father. He knew him better than almost anyone could claim to. He watched as Dad tried to cover up his expressions, but he failed spectacularly.
“I trust you,” Dad finally said. “To know what’s right. To know what’s not.”
“But…” Nick said, knowing it was there, and hating it existed at all.
“But,” Dad said, letting the word hang between them. Then, “But I… it’s not that I don’t trust you, Nick. It’s not that at all. I’m…we’reworried that you might not think the big things through.”
“Like?” Nick asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Dad said. He took a step back, dropping his hands from Nick’s shoulders. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed it, shaking his head.
“Like?” Nick insisted.
“All right?” another voice said, causing them both to jump. Mom had appeared out of nowhere. Nick hadn’t heard her coming over. “You look like you’re being very serious over here. It’s a party, guys. You’re killing the mood.”
“We need to tell him,” Dad said, and a chill ran down Nick’s spine. “Tell all of them. They have to know, Jen. They need to be ready for what’s coming.” His hands curled into fists, knuckles popping.
Mom nodded tightly, mouth curving down. “Wanted to give everyone a chance to enjoy themselves before we…” She looked away, blinking rapidly. “I thought we’d have more time, but you’re right.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick asked, a buzzing sound filling his ears. “What’s going on?”
Mom raised her hand, twisting her fingers slightly. The music cut off midbeat, the silence deafening as everyone looked around as if waking from a stupor. Though Nick was sure no one else could feel it, he could. The energy from his mother. Her powers, so much like his own. It was strange, this feeling, like a heavy wave crashing over him, pulling him into the depths. Distantly, he thought,Is this real? Is any of this real?
Yes,a calming voice whispered in reply.Of course it is. It’s real. All of this.
The feeling dissipated, though not completely. Gently, it brushed over his skin like an unwanted caress, soft and wrong. It was maddening and intoxicating all at the same time. Athought on the tip of his tongue, muddled, out of focus. Incapable of clarity.
He forgot all about it when Mom spoke, her voice raised so everyone could hear her. “I didn’t want to do this tonight,” she said. “Miles, Joanna, I just wanted this to be Jazz’s night.” She looked pale. Nervous. She glanced back over her shoulder at her son and husband. She held her hand out. Dad went to her, taking her hand in his. “But I need to.” She squeezed Dad’s hand. “Weneed to. Because sometimes, we can’t wait for the fight to come to us.”
Nick didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet were stone, heavy, holding him in place.
A little flash of light in his head. A memory. But… not? Because it didn’t feel real. It wasn’t how it’d happened. They hadn’t—
Smoke and Ice unconscious, trapped behind ceiling struts embedded in the ground. Dad, Dad,Dadrushing toward him, shouting his name, lifting him up, hugging him tightly, face buried in his neck. It’d been close, so close yet again, death knocking on their doorstep, banging, banging, but they’d survived, they’dwon, and Dad… Dad had asked—
Who was that?
