Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,56
the Mental powers’ or Blackout’s instability would scatter like raindrops.
Holly looked down at her hands, telling herself that at least Hal wasn’t as bad as the others. He hadn’t tried to kill himself, or to kill others. That counted. Hal was by far the best off. And Holly still thought there was hope for him. Every time she pushed Light into him when she visited him in his cell, he seemed to come back to himself. “Hal is strong,” she said. “And I’m sure he’ll bounce back.”
“Me too.” Valerie hoisted herself out of the chair and walked heavily to the bathroom. “Ugh, my bladder. Be glad this isn’t you, Hols.”
Holly smiled, touching her own flat belly. Way, way too soon for her to feel anything, let alone show. Barely five weeks. She and George had both agreed that they should wait until they heard the heartbeat before sharing their news with Valerie and the others.
She just knew that once George was a father, he’d have a constant anchor to help him stand fast against the Shadow. Between Angelica and the baby, Blackout would never again lose himself in the dark. And then, finally, his rages would stop.
Yes, what she couldn’t do alone, she and the baby would do together.
And then everything would be perfect.
CHAPTER 24
NIGHT
Unexpected result of comlink: Traits have become amplified. The Lighters have, as a class, become more arrogant. The Earthers have become more stubborn. The Shadows—is it possible for the Shadows to have grown darker?
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #77
Night didn’t choke the life out of Angelica, though he dearly wanted to. Instead, he stood impassively as she put the ridiculous paper hat on his head.
“Pink’s your color.” She chuckled, tucking the elastic under his chin.
“The things I do for Team Alpha,” he muttered, which made her chuckle all the harder.
“You’re having a good time and you know it. And just think of this as practice for when it’s mine and George’s turn.” She pecked him on the cheek, then blew a kiss to Blackout. A radiant smile on her face, Angelica glided over to a group of other guests, whom she accosted with tiny pink hats. None would escape.
“Just breathe,” Blackout intoned, either to Night or to himself. Like Night, he was wearing a Little Girl Pink paper hat. “It’ll be over soon, then they’ll all leave.”
“You’re being extraordinarily positive,” Night said dryly. “I think we’ll be stuck here until the better part of next week.”
With the crush of people in the rented hall with them at the New Chicago Museum of Art, he probably wasn’t exaggerating. The Runners had done a spectacular job planning Vixen’s baby shower, making sure all heroes not currently on engagements were in attendance, as well as key members of the government—all standing around, hobnobbing and gossiping, acting like idiots. And with so many civilian celebrities, you’d think it was an awards ceremony. Even Corp made an appearance—three female suits, all wearing identical smiles and sporting identical haircuts (complete with the pink paper hats), all parroting the corporate party line and letting Vixen and Luster know how pleased Corp-Co was that a new generation of Bradfords would soon be joining the Squadron.
Night wanted to vomit all over their identical expensive shoes.
The whole thing was ludicrous. Vixen and Luster, having a baby. And now Blackout and Angelica, doing the same. The world had gone mad when he hadn’t been looking. They didn’t have the time, the luxury, to have babies. Heroes, raising children? Were they going to be changing nappies instead of fighting crime? Cleaning up spit-up instead of the streets of New Chicago?
It made him want to scream. Babies, for Jehovah’s sake. He smiled blandly as a reporter made an inane comment about superhero true love. Silently, Night raged. It no longer mattered that Luster was the official Hero of New Chicago. No, now Luster was the official Expecting Daddy of New Chicago.
And Luster clearly loved it.
Obviously, Night was the only one of Team Alpha who still gave a rat’s ass about actually heroing. Hadn’t he been going above and beyond, not only following procedure down to the letter but also pulling extra patrol shifts, to make up for Vixen’s bed rest and Angelica’s morning sickness? Yes—because Night didn’t just care. Night was a hero. It was in his blood, his bones, his thoughts. Duty first, they’d been taught at the Academy, and over this past year, Night had made that his personal mantra. Duty first. Always.