Super Secret | Half Hero Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 22: Performance Issues

I'd taken sanctuary on the porch of the abandoned ranger's cabin that had been home to the Scions for the past eight months. 

Stretching beyond the stained pine veranda was a pristine lake twinkling in the last rays of a fiery sunset. We were deep in the heart of the Appalachians without running water or electricity or a working toilet, exactly how Mac liked it.

I was still grappling with the massive data-dump Mac had just taken on my brain (which sounds a lot grosser than I meant it to). Not only did he know how Scions like us were created, but he and my dad were integral to the government's empirical passion project.

Mac never thought he'd see me again, or have to deal with the fallout of his actions nearly twenty years later. In a completely misguided attempt at mentorship, Mac assumed our escape to Malaysia would help me accept my new status as a glorified laser pointer. He had no idea things would go to hell in a handbasket because of my careless decisions, or that I would be taken hostage by the government to be exploited (again.)

"I brought you some tea," Nawell's pleasant tone was a welcome addition to the gorgeous sunset and I turned to give her a smile.

"Thank you," I accepted the chipped mug she'd been carrying while she settled in next to me on the step.

The steam beckoned with notes of cinnamon and an aromatic spice I couldn't place, but it reminded me of anise.

"How are you doing?" She asked, hugging the stretchy crimson material of the skirt covering her knees.

Nawell and her brother were almost identical, including a slight inflection from their Algerian heritage. Her accent only enhanced her natural beauty. She could read from the phone book and I'd be mesmerized.

"I honestly, don't know," I replied, looking out at a bird dipping low to the lake in a swooping arch. "Last year I found out superpowers are real. And today, I learned that aliens crash-landed on this planet, which is how the government inadvertently created a team of child Scions. So, I'm kind of crossing my fingers that Unicorns turn out to be the real deal, you know?"

Nawell's laughter sounded like breathy wind chimes and I glanced over to watch her stately features bend with genuine humor.

"It's a lot," she bobbed her mass of tight curls. "Especially in under twenty-four hours. I can't imagine having to deal with all of this alone."

"Well, not totally alone," I mused, glancing over my shoulder at the front door.

Mac was inside cooking up a feast that was wafting through the few cabin windows lining the porch. As foragers, the Scions expertly gathered all sorts of seasonal herbs, roots, and vegetables to compliment the wild turkey being spit-roasted over the open fireplace in the living room.

"What was Varun like, as a dad?" I asked, unable to picture the reserved billionaire as an adoptive father of five children.

He never alluded to his life before my mom, and I never got the opportunity (or even thought to) ask. I'd figured he built his empire the old-fashioned way, by focusing solely on himself and his own accomplishments. Turns out, Varun had stolen himself a makeshift family after Project Scion fell apart.

"He was kind," she smiled at the memory of the man I thought I knew. "When we were taken to the Scion lab in London, he was very protective. We knew he was studying us, but he was different from the soldiers or medics in the refugee camp."

"Weren't you scared?" I whispered, taking a tentative sip of the piping hot water.

Golden honey melted into my tongue to coat the back of my throat with hints of herbal goodness as a new energy perked my senses.

"Yes," Nawell answered over the footsteps snapping damp twigs on the forest floor. "But we grew to trust Varun. We didn't have our powers then, and he was the only person to treat us like normal children..."

Rounding the side of the cabin was a jolly Basem, holding a pile of firewood and kindling to store in the dry box on the porch. 

He offered us an easy grin that dimpled his cheek and put a sparkle in his deep brown eyes. His face fell as soon as he noticed his sister's expression.

"Are you talking about father?" He asked gently, nudging her foot with the toe of his large boot.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, casting my eyes to the mud at the bottom of the steps.

Basem nodded, considering something he didn't look ready to vocalize.

I felt like a jerk. 

Each of us unintentionally embodied the different stages of grief trying to process all of the cruelty and deceptions that got us to our current situation. It seemed that not a single one of us had come out the other side with acceptance, not even Mac.

I'm going to be honest, Nawell is one of my favorite characters to write because even though she's as damaged as the others, she has a truly kind heart. Same for her twin brother Basem. They are based on real people that I've known in my life. I admire them both for their empathy and their ability to connect with others. I'm wholly convinced it's their superpower.