Regret: Volume Two of Ebb & Flow [Psychological Superpowered Thriller]

Chapter 65 - The Other Woman (Miles POV)



I'm left standing alone on the balcony, too stunned to move. What is going on? My hand is still out as my brain tries to make sense of what just happened. One second, we're in a tense fight against a dangerous opponent, and the next, everything is fine. I drop my arm to my side and look over the edge, trying to spot Tuesday. She's on her back, not moving, on the hood of a car. She's not dead. Right? RIGHT?

I draw again on the electricity as I vault over the railing, rolling onto the pavement below. Time seems to slow to a crawl as my brain and body speed up. Tuesday may have almost messed up the mission for a gag, but that doesn't mean she deserves to die. Emma didn't even seem fazed by the knowledge that we weren't enemies. What kind of person immediately goes for the kill against strangers? Just who did you send us to meet, Nobody?

I reach Tuesday, making sure that there isn't any charge leaking through my hand before I touch her neck gingerly. Thank God. A steady pulse is coming from her, so she's not dead. I reabsorb the energy coursing through me back into the well. Carefully, I lift her head to check for any bleeding on the back of her skull. There isn't any, and I gently poke her to try to wake her. She seems fine, so why isn't she waking up? No bruises or obvious trauma explaining why she's still unconscious. I shake her more aggressively, hoping she's just faking it.

"What's wrong with you? What should I do?" I asked to no one in particular.

"You should kiss her. It looks like we might be dealing with a Sleeping Beauty situation. And it looks pretty serious," said a male voice from behind me.

Really? I don't even need to look to know that it's just Tuesday's ability.

"Maybe a few kisses just to be safe," a different voice said.

"Definitely. And why not slip a little tongue in? I'm sure she wouldn't mind," a woman added.

"Yeah, and make it sloppy."

"I'm not making out with you, Tuesday. Get up before Emma gets out here. Because of your stunt, there are likely authorities on the way, and we can't be here for that. Don't pull any more crap like that again," I said angrily.

I'm a little surprised by how angry I am. Then again, it's one thing to make jokes, but this was too far. She could've completely ruined this mission, and then I would've failed him. Would he take back the powers if we failed him? The man definitely has plans in place in case any of us go rogue; there's just no chance he doesn't. By purposely antagonizing Emma, she tried to sabotage the mission. Tuesday directly jeopardized my relationship with Nobody.

"You're no fun, Miles. Twas only foolin' and let he who hadith not fooled, not judge thy for foolin'," she laughed.

"I'm serious. Don't do that again," I warned.

"Jeez, relax. It all worked out fine, right? Besides, she doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge. And if she is, I'll make nice."

A siren rings out in the distance, and I close my eyes and grit my teeth in frustration. We aren't getting anywhere with this. Tuesday slides off the hood, doing a cartwheel, and then shooting finger guns at me. Normally, I'd go along with her, but not right now. Tuesday frowns and then looks up to the balcony where Emma's room is. Emma runs up to the edge, jumping onto the railing and pushing off it. She soars over to us, easily clearing the length of four parking spaces. Enhanced durability, strength, and leaping ability. But is there anything else to her powerset?

The woman we're meant to escort lands, sliding across the slick pavement, splashing puddles of slush everywhere. She's finally wearing clothes, which is a relief. And nice looking ones at that. Black pants, a forest green wool sweater, furred boots, and a navy blue peacoat she doesn't have buttoned, leaving it to flutter in the wind. Her hair is tied into a ponytail, and she's put on some purple lipstick and eyeshadow. There's a grin on her face and an ease to her walk, a level of comfort that shouldn't be there. It's like the previous engagement did nothing to make her wary of us. I know that Tuesday wasn't able to put up much of a fight, but surely what I showed should make her cautious of us. Is she that confident in her abilities, or does she trust Nobody that much? I'm not sure which answer I'm hoping is true.

"Hey, I'm ready to go if you guys are," Emma said cheerfully. "The police are about two streets over, so we should get out of here while we can."

"That reminds me. Both of you take your phones out," I said, holding my hands out.

Emma hands me her phone without any fuss, and Tuesday is behaving wisely, so she does the same. I fish my phone out of my pocket and channel ninety percent of the remaining electricity inside me into creating a box of solidified electricity that I put all three phones in. The last ten percent I pull to the center of my chest, molding the potent energy into a sphere shape. I close my eyes, cutting out all sensory information, and focus on my breathing. In, out. In, out. The sphere inside me expands and contracts as it syncs up with my breathing. The sirens are louder now; time is running out for me to do this.

I speed up the rhythm, faster and faster, until the expansion passes through my skin and out of my body as a sensor to detect all powered items in our vicinity. All around me, pings echo in my head, telling me where all of them are within a two-hundred-foot radius. I stretch my arms out, zeroing in on all the pings and yanking all of it to me. Electricity arcs through the air, hitting my fingertips and filling my metaphorical tank. Indiscriminately, I drain everything around us: car batteries, appliances, video cameras, cell phones, lights, generators, and more. More. MORE. The entire inn, parking lot, and most of the street are plunged into a blackout. I dispel the cube and hand the women their phones back. Emma looks surprised. Good.

"Alright, that should've fried every electronic around us. There won't be any proof of us being here. Let's go get some food," I said.

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"Except for the dead motel worker," Tuesday said.

Except for the WHAT? I keep my face calm in front of Emma, and I start to run over to the booth where her victim is.

"She's lying," Emma said to me. "Sorry, girl, but I'm too hungry to waste time."

She says it with so much confidence that I believe her. Tuesday's pouting is all the confirmation I need. How did she know? Just who is this woman, Nobody?

One of the town's diners opened as we were leaving the motel. The three of us travelled there and ate a near-silent breakfast. Emma was too busy eating to talk, and Tuesday wasn't feeling very talkative. Something I never noticed before was that the scar on Tuesday's face tightened the skin around her cheek, making it so that even when she frowns, the right side of her mouth is still smiling. We stayed at the diner just long enough to wait for a dealership to open.

"Why are we going to a car dealership? Can't we just take your car back?" Emma asked.

Don't answer or reveal anything.

"I'm not sure what he told you, but we're here to buy you a vehicle. Then we'll drive back to Quinstin," I responded.

"He's buying me a car? What a sweetheart," she said dryly. "I certainly won't say no to that."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't extremely curious about how Emma knows Nobody. She looks younger than both of us, but with powers in play, appearances can mean nothing. Tuesday's frown eases slightly at Emma's proclamation. I'm inclined to follow Nobody's directions, which means keeping conversations to a minimum. Focus on the mission and nothing else.

Waconia has two car dealerships in the town: Murray's Motors and Wayzata Luxury Auto. Emma chooses to go to Wayzata, and I don't blame the girl. I don't know anything about her background, but it isn't often someone gifts you a free car. I'd do the same thing if Nobody offered me a free car. We walk into the dealership with Emma in the lead, and the look in her eyes tells me my wallet is about to be a lot lighter by the end of this. Every vehicle in sight has a six-digit price tag. I feel an ache in my chest at the thought of spending so much money on a car. It's not your money. It's not your money. It's not your money. I keep repeating the phrase to myself like a self-help mantra.

Driving on the open road in a brand new car, going faster than the speed limit, cause you're the only one out here, is a feeling of freedom I never thought about before. And it's all thanks to Nobody. Despite the exhilaration of the experience, I'm still struggling to come to terms with spending over $800,000. That's just so much money. Emma decided on a metallic blue Lamborghini Alcurrucén, a sleek SUV and Lamborghini's first EV. Tuesday is in the passenger seat, and Emma is sitting in the back, sleeping.

"How do you think they know each other?" Tuesday asked me.

I briefly consider ignoring her question, which is obviously against Nobody's rules. But eight hours into our twenty-one-hour journey, I'm not as angry as I was before. This is also the first time she's spoken during the ride. I don't want to ruin her mood when it's finally improving. Maybe I shouldn't engage her, maybe I should continue not talking, maybe I should punish her further for messing up. But I wouldn't be me if I did that.

"Do not ask. He was very clear about wanting us to limit our conversations with her. Don't push this issue, or I will have to silence you until we get back. I don't want to have to do that, but if I have to, I will bind and gag you," I said.

"I'm not asking you to ask her, I'm asking you to discuss tea with me. You know, talk a lil goss with ya girlfriend," Tuesday explained. "Also, don't tempt me with a good time, I might make you follow through."

"Fine," I acquiesced. "Truthfully, I don't have any theories. I haven't given it any amount of thought. Her background and origins aren't my prerogative. Neither is her relationship with the boss."

"Rude way of rejecting my invitation for some kink fun. I'm talking about ropeplay, not tying the knot. But whatever. How can you not have any theories? Is she the boss's long-lost daughter from an extramarital affair with his family's maid or his genderbent clone sent from the future to kill him? The possibilities are juicier than my ass. The tea is piping hot," she exclaimed.

"I don't know how to respond to any of that," I said.

"You're supposed to respond with equally credible and believable assumptions about who Sleeping Beauty is," Tuesday said.

"That is the second Sleeping Beauty reference you've made today; what is up with you and that movie?" I asked.

"They had a live-action Disney movie marathon on a couple of nights ago," she answered.

"Those movies are terrible," I said.

"How dare you? Angelina Jolie was one of the greatest actors of old."

"If you're going to wake me up, could it at least be for a more thought-provoking conversation?" Emma asked, rubbing her eyes.

"OH. Sorry, miss. I didn't mean to wake you," I apologized.

"If you want us to discuss something more thought-provoking, we could always circle back to how exactly you know the boss," Tuesday said slyly. "He's not the most forthcoming when it comes to information, as I'm sure you know. Woman to woman, you can tell me: girl code, rarara, feminism, rarara, sisterhood."

"You are abrasive and overly friendly," Emma said.

"Thank you, but back to the matter at hand," Tuesday replied.

"Yes, the matter of how I know your boss. I'm quite curious about your two's relationship to him as well. You called him boss, and all I can wonder is what exactly he's involved in that requires people like you two. He was so cagey when I asked him about his life. He wouldn't tell me what he does, where he lives, basically nothing about him. I mean, you'd think sleeping with a guy multiple times would earn you some answers," Emma remarked casually.

They're lovers?

"YOU'VE SLEPT WITH HIM? MULTIPLE FUCKING TIMES?" Tuesday screamed. "How? What are your secrets? What wonders does your pussy contain? I've been flirting with him for months now, and now I find out I'm the other woman?"

Dear God, what have I done to deserve this? I'm unsure whether this falls under Nobody's secrecy murder rules, but I'm sure that he wouldn't like this conversation happening. Tuesday is growing more unhinged at Emma's revelation by the second. And the woman who dropped the bomb seems pleased at the reaction she's garnered. Great, she's just as dangerous and chaotic as Tuesday. Speaking of, with one hand on the wheel, I gather electricity in the other, waiting until a sufficient charge is built up. Tuesday unbuckles her seatbelt to turn and face Emma, accusing her of witchcraft. The other woman just sits there, letting it wash over her. Before this can get any worse, I grab Tuesday's wrist, electrocuting her. She spasms, falling back into her seat unconscious, fingers twitching slightly. I didn't use enough to kill her, but it was probably more than necessary. Through the rearview mirror, I get a glimpse of who Emma truly is, or rather what she is. Cold, calculating eyes and a cruel, mirthless smile. Emma's like him. She's a monster.


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