Carrie Vaughn - After the Golden Age

She hesitated to ponder those questions, and how the one connected to the other, when he could see those thoughts laid bare.

“I’ve been to see Mayor Paulson,” he continued. “I came in with the crowd for his press conference this morning. I was hoping to learn what was behind all those snappy sound bites and high ideals he’s always spouting off about. Do you know what I found?”

“What?”

He started pacing a long, slow circuit around the room. “Nothing. I found absolutely nothing at all. His mind was blank to me. I couldn’t read him.”

Just like the Destructor. Like Sito. She now recognized the tension in Arthur’s frame—he was afraid. That knowledge tingled across her skin. Dr. Mentis was never afraid. He was never anything.

“Oh my God.”

“You know what it means, don’t you? You’ve suspected it for some time.”

“I’d rather not talk about it. I still don’t know anything for sure.”

“That’s a bit disingenuous. You know plenty, but you’re not saying what.”

She wouldn’t fall into that trap. She wouldn’t say a damn word.

He didn’t stop walking. “Celia, what are you trying to hide?”

Nothing, she wanted to say, but didn’t. She wondered why she didn’t just say it, knowing Arthur could read the thought behind her eyes. My grandfather and Simon Sito worked together to create superhuman mutations.

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I just—I just want to be sure before I say it.”

“I’m worried.”

The fact that he’d admit to an emotion of any kind shook her. “There’s a lot to worry about.”

“I’m worried about you . You worked so hard to get yourself away from all this, and here you are, back in the middle. And you put yourself here. I hope you’re not trying to prove something.”

And she knew. The thought was simply there, and it wasn’t hers. You are more important to me than anything.

“So what if I am?” she said, her voice cracking. “You don’t have to ask any questions. You just know.”

“I try to be polite.”

He always said that. But this didn’t feel like politeness. It wasn’t enough for him to read the answer in her thoughts, he wanted her to say it. This inspired in her a contrary desire to push him. What would she have to say, how mean would she have to be, before he reacted? That was the teenager again, the angry girl Celia had never quite escaped. She shouldn’t be like that, not with him. There was a time he’d been her only friend.

“Maybe I’d like to try and keep a few secrets. I don’t have much of anything else.”

Mentis stopped pacing and laughed softly, as sinister an expression as she’d heard from any criminal. “There are no secrets around me.”

“Only the ones you keep.” Like the feelings you have for me— “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”

He murmured, “Why can’t you, Celia?”

All she had to do was say it. I love you, too. But her mouth went dry and the words stuck.

His emotions were palpable. His mind expanded to take in what lay around it, and the people around him felt the impact of it. She could feel him—she wanted to run to him, throw herself at him, pull his arms around her, hold him.

Or was that what he was thinking about her?

She turned away as her tears fell, and covered her mouth to keep the sob from breaking free. Why couldn’t she just say the words?

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and, shoulders hunched and face returned to its imperturbable mask, left the room.

HOWEVER much she wanted to, she didn’t take one of her prescribed painkillers. She needed to be awake. She had work to do. It was a good excuse to distract her from Arthur. So she took a couple of plain aspirin and parked at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and her cell phone.

“I’d like to speak to the District Attorney, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting right now, I can take your number and—”

“Tell him it’s Celia West.”

The woman paused; the click and rustle of office background noise sounded over the line. Then, “Could you hold for a moment?”

As Celia had hoped, her name did hold some weight … although what kind of weight remained to be seen, especially now. After the bus incident she’d hoped to have some currency to cash in.

The receptionist came back on the line. “I’m transferring you to his office now.”

“Thank you,” Celia said, suppressing a sigh of relief.

He came on the line and didn’t bother with a greeting. “Celia. You left the hospital before I could check in with you. You’re okay? I mean, clearly you’re okay.”

“A concussion, some cuts and bruises. I’m okay.”

“You’re a hero, you know.”

She might go so far as to claim to be a good citizen. “Does that mean I can ask for a favor?”

Bronson’s tone became more guarded. He should have known she had a reason for calling. “That depends on the favor. What do you need?”

Deep breath, and plow on through like this wasn’t odd. “I need access to the Department of Vital Statistic’s sealed records.”

“Why?”

Here she was, thinking this would be easy. “I’m following up a lead on the Sito case. I’ve got some of that asset information you were looking for.”

“Smith and Kurchanski gave you your job back, then?”

She was still waiting for that phone call. “Actually, I’m thinking of going into business for myself.”

“You’ve been doing this on your own time, probably throwing my name around like you’re still on the case.”

“I haven’t done anything illegal.” Yet … much …

“And you figured out where Sito’s original trust fund came from?”

Give a little to get a little. This was public record, it was just that no one had bothered digging this deep for it before. “It came from a disability settlement he got from West Corp, which he was working for at the time. I didn’t need a warrant to get those records. I just asked my dad.”

He whistled low. “That’s a pretty tangled web. Your dad knows about this?”

“Yes. At least he knows Sito worked for West Corp. I don’t think he knows the settlement possibly funded everything Sito did later, as the Destructor.”

“Brilliant. And now you want into Vital Statistics. What are you looking for?”

This part, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get out. It had the potential of opening an even bigger can of worms than the West Corp connection. “I’d rather not say until I figure out if what I’m looking for is even there.”

“And you want me to get you a court order. I can’t do that unless you tell me what you want to look at.”

“Couldn’t you just … let me into the records office? Give me a key and no one would ever have to know I’d been there.”

“That’s crazy. I can’t let you do that.”

“I didn’t say it was an easy favor.”

“You think being a hero gives you carte blanche? You think you can run all over town bending all the rules, like your parents and their pals?”

“I’m not anything like my parents.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we all turn into our parents.”

That pronouncement held a tone of finality that Celia didn’t much like.

She said, “And if I could fly or shoot lasers out of my eyes, that might be true for me. This could be important, this could be nothing. I just need a half hour in the records office, no questions asked.”

She had other ideas, like developing an ill-advised scheme to break into the office, or forge a court order—that was how badly she wanted this.

She honestly didn’t expect Bronson to say, “Can you be at City Hall in an hour?”