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

"Why would you do that?" I sighed, selling the face of frustration I was presenting.

She's similar to Tuesday in some regards. She can be pacified by letting her believe she's made ground, even if she hasn't. Already, my thoughts turn to how to work around her, rather than with her. If I'm going to work with her, I can't be thinking like that. She's not an obstacle, but an asset.

"Do what?" She asked coyly. "I don't have any idea what you could possibly be referring to."

"Fine. Are you going to pick something to eat or just continue terrorizing our waiter?"

"I figured I'd do a little bit of both. Relax, Eryk. I'm just having a bit of fun. I'm not going to mess up anything you have planned. Did you forget how we met?" she asked.

"No, I didn't. But then again, you'd be dead if it weren't for meeting me," I said.

"Touché. But I spent so long trapped in a terrible situation. I'm just enjoying my newfound freedom and getting used to having so much power at my fingertips," she explained.

"I understand, but I'd advise you to act more cautiously. This city isn't like Nestor Falls. There are Capes and Cowls here who could mop the floor with you, regeneration be damned. You're a small fish in a very deep pond," I warned.

"And what does that make you, some sort of shark?" She asked sarcastically.

"No, I'm the fisherman."

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The waiter brings back the check, and thanks to Emma, I'm forced to tip a hundred dollars on a bill of a hundred and fifty. An unwanted expense, but one that is necessary to smooth over her antics with the server. I sign my name and write sorry at the bottom of the receipt. Dinner went well, all things considered. Emma finally stopped trying to antagonize me, so I was able to enjoy the food, and we kept the conversation light. Talking about our interests, it turns out she's a painter. She prefers charcoal as her medium. This was fun. I walk Emma out of the restaurant and to her car. I check the time on my phone. I still have time to go shopping.

"Thanks for tonight; I had fun," she smiled.

"Me too," I answered honestly. "Let me know which hotel you end up picking, and I'll meet you there to pay for your room."

"Where are you rushing off to?"

"I have grocery shopping to get done for a party this weekend," I said.

The party's tomorrow, and I haven't even started yet. If it weren't for everyone not wanting to eat until 6 pm, I might be screwed. I'm going to have to ask Violet if I can head over early in the morning to get started. Thankfully, there aren't too many dietary restrictions to work around, and everyone loved the menu concept I had. Glazed ham, baked mac, potatoes au gratin, roasted yams, garlic sesame tofu, pigs in a blanket, grilled asparagus, spicy broccoli bites, and a cheese board.

"Oh, I'll go with you. Plenty of room in my trunk for whatever you're getting. And I'll be an extra set of hands to help you carry everything," she suggested.

The urge to immediately decline is powerful, but I don't really have a reason to. There's also the chance she just follows me anyway. It'd be nice if a simple refusal were enough to dissuade her, but it won't be.

"Okay," I slowly said after a moment.

"Hop on in, I can show you how nice the car you bought me is," she said, clicking her fob.

I get in, and I have to admit it is nice. Glossy carbon fiber interior, white leather seats, plenty of leg room in the front and the back, heated reclining seats, and a surprising amount of storage in the trunk. Good to know it wasn't a complete waste of money. Emma starts the car, and the engine is barely above a hum. There's something about the quietness of EVs that I find eerie; it might be from only ever owning my pickup truck.

"What's the name of the place?"

"Greg's Grocer; it's over on National Boulevard. It's open very late, which is a godsend for someone like me. I never have enough time to do everything I need to," I answered.

"Got it," she said, finishing typing the name into the GPS on the touch screen in the car's dashboard.

She pulls out of the lot, and we're on our way to Greg's. Emma and I are silent; the only sounds are coming from the tires on the road.

"I know you dislike talking about your life, and I don't want to pry, but can I ask about the party?" She asked hopefully.

"Sure."

"Are you the one hosting the party?"

"No," I answered quickly. Don't treat her like you would Maria. "I'm not hosting, but I am the one cooking for it."

"Oh, the mysterious man can also cook? Women love a man who can cook," she said, raising her eyebrows at me.

"They do," I responded casually.

"When will I get to join the list of people who have tasted your home-cooked meals?"

"Who knows. You may never get the chance. It is a pretty exclusive club," I said. Only Daniel, Maria, Aubrey, Jean-Luc, and Marcus have ever had my cooking.

"You've gotta be quite the chef, Eryk."

"I'm competent in the kitchen. It is a hobby I quite enjoy and it suits me," I said.

"So your hobbies include crime, treachery, and cooking? What an interesting life you lead."

"Pretty mundane compared to parricide, mass murder, and lying," I jabbed back. "Oh, look, we're here."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

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Greg's Grocer is a Quinstin staple. The type of establishment that can only exist in such a big city. A grocery store built out of an old warehouse, that's open till 1 am, and has alcohol, a butcher shop, deli, fish counter, cafe, bakery, and a buffet-style food court. Fully staffed during all hours, fair wages and prices; Greg's is loved by everyone who lives here.

It's a refreshing thing about living in Quinstin compared to a small town like New Farford. Back home, everything closes at 6 pm at the latest; only convenience and liquor stores are open till eight. We still don't even have a single coffee shop, but the tradeoff is how quiet it is. Quinstin is loud, crowded, and constantly busy; there's always something going on somewhere. Parties bigger than the one where I triggered happen daily. Granted, none of them end in a massacre.

The bright halogen lights on the ceiling are enough to wake up the sleepiest shopper. Emma has kept true to her words and has been a very helpful assistant shopper. The oversized green cart is nearly overflowing with food items, and I still have to buy the cheeses. If I had to guess, I'm probably over seven hundred dollars already. And the cheeses I want are going to be pricey. I push the cart up to the counter, and the worker serving us is called Francis, according to his name tag. An older gentleman who looks like he knows what he's talking about.

"Hello, how are you two doing tonight?" Francis asked.

"I'm well," I answered.

"Doing pretty Gouda, what about you?" Emma asked.

God damn it. How could I forget Null's personality pieces?

"Ah," Francis smiled. "These old bones are a little tired today, but just like Camembert, I'm aging well. So what'll it brie?"

This is going to be a chore, I can already tell. I ignore his cheesy puns and pull out my list.

"I'm looking to get a pound of the Smoked Gouda, Fontina, and Gruyere, and a third of a pound of the Parmigiano-Reggiano."

"Certainly. Sounds like you're making a baked mac and cheese, is that right?" He asked.

"Yes, I actually am," I said, surprised he knew that.

"I figured. Might I recommend using the Fontina Val d'Aosta? I find the nutty notes go very well with the smokiness of the Gouda," he suggested.

"Sure, that sounds delicious. Beyond those, I'm also doing a cheese board, so I'll need some Brie, aged sharp cheddar, Manchego, Muenster, and Burrata. If you have any more recommendations, I'll gladly take them," I responded.

"Excellent. I'll get all your items packaged up in a jiffy, so if you have any other shopping to do, feel free to get that done," Francis said cheerfully.

I don't have anything else I need, so I'm fine waiting. I pull my phone out to scroll, but I see Emma out of the corner of my eye, gearing up to ask me something, so I put it right back in my pocket. Stop treating her like Maria; she is different. She's not my equal, but there's no one who is, yet. There's a thought. Could I mold her into a partner for myself? Kai's made incredible progress with the nanite emotional regulation program. He's already counteracted the anhedonia that Diminish's power came along with, and there's no doubt in my mind he'll eventually be able to control every chemical and synapse inside his brain.

Depending on how the next phase of experimentation goes, we could alter Emma's body, brain, and personality to be the perfect woman for me. Kai could neutralize her emotions, locking them behind a chemical wall, slowly unlocking them as I gain them. Having someone to share in the journey to find humanity is tempting. And I could potentially create a child, one that shares my power. The path to gaining powers beyond my own could be in my future.

"You mind if I go check out the cafe? I'd love an iced coffee," Emma said.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind a coffee either. Get me a small cold brew dark roast," I said, handing her a twenty out of my wallet.

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While Emma's grabbing our coffees, I wait at the cheese counter. Francis waves me over and hands me a bag full of all the paper-wrapped cheeses. I turn the cart around, pushing it as I head toward the checkout area. Her senses should let her find me without any issue. A guy comes out of an aisle I'm going by, nearly crashing into me. Grocery stores are like four-way intersections; look for other people before you go through them. I'm about to make a retort when I realize I recognize him. Bald head, impeccably curled moustache, sword earring, and lip ring; it's Sy. Fuck, it's Sy—one of the ten people in this entire city who knows me. And it has to happen when I have Emma with me. I have to get away from him before she gets back.

"Eryk? My guy," Sy said, elongating the Y.

"Hello, Sy, it's good to see you," I smiled.

"Where have you been, man? I haven't seen you around in a bit," Sy asked me.

"I got sick and was stuck in the hospital. Don't worry, though, I got a clean bill of health," I assured him.

"Hell yeah, I'm glad to hear it."

"What about you? How was your Thanksgiving with your family?" I asked.

Sy's face darkens for a moment, his eyes staring at the floor. He shakes his head, and the good-natured grin returns. What was that?

"I didn't go home for the holiday, actually," he said.

"Oh, why not? I didn't think you were too far away from me, and I'm only a couple hours Quickrail ride from home."

"It wasn't the distance. My mom's not really in a celebrating mood, and it's too hard to be home nowadays. My dad died this year, and I just can't bring myself to go back home yet," Sy admitted.

Oh. That was a landmine I just stepped on. There's a weird taste in my mouth after Sy says that. An urge to console and help him emanates from inside me. Now I can't just end the conversation and walk away.

"Wow, looks like I'm the one putting my foot in my mouth now. Sorry, man. I had no idea you were dealing with that."

"Yeah, I try not to bring it up and immediately annihilate the vibe. Which I'm failing to do, clearly," he joked half-heartedly.

"You're good. I'm the one who messed up. Listen, my friends and I are having a Friendsgiving thing tomorrow, that's why I'm shopping; would you want to go?"

"I don't wanna intrude and be a bummer," Sy said.

"You won't. Please go, I insist. Plus, I'm cooking an amazing meal, and I'm a bit of a savant in the kitchen. You'll love my friends, and they will love you," I said.

"Are you sure?" Sy asked me, face hopeful.

"They literally told me the more the merrier. Friendsgiving is about friends, and we're friends, right?"

"Alright, alright, I'll go. Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Just a smile and yourself," I answered, his face lighting up.

He shakes my hand and turns to walk past me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emma, holding both coffees in her hand.

"ERYK!" Emma yelled, shaking the coffees above her head. "I got your coffee."

Sy stops in his tracks just as she gets over to us. She hands me my drink and stands right next to me, our arms touching.

"Uh, hi. Sorry, I didn't even see you were talking to someone. I didn't mean to interrupt you two," Emma lied. Bullshit.

"No problem at all. I'm Sy," he said, introducing himself.

"OH! You're Sy. It's so good to finally meet you. Eryk's told me so much about you," Emma said, offering her hand to him.

He takes it, shaking her hand. "Ah, Eryk's such a good dude. Pleasure to meet you. I'm obviously Sy, and you are?"

"Emma," she answered.

"Well, Emma, any friend of Eryk's is a friend of mine," Sy exclaimed.

"Oh. We're not friends; Eryk's my boyfriend," Emma said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me on my cheek.

Maybe I should just kill her.