The Dark Souls (The Viral Superhero Series Book 1) Page 2

  Nigel quieted her with a look. "It's your destiny, love. Yarrick, would you like the hon–"

  "Get your hands off her," a voice cracked from across the room.

  Stucky watched in awe as a lanky teenager stepped forward. The kid didn't exactly strike fear in the hearts of man, but he admired the boy’s guts.

  "Let her go."

  This time the boy sounded more confident. Something about him made Stucky nervous.

  Tank scoffed from the front door. "Maybe you should wait till your voice drops before you go saving the day, kid."

  The gang laughed. Even Stucky joined in, despite the tension of the moment. The insults didn't phase the teen, as he continued to move toward Yarrick and the waitress.

  "You're killing her." The Russian tightened his grasp around the girl. "Why don't you sit down and wait your turn?"

  "No."

  Yarrick tossed the waitress to Carter and charged at the boy. The Russian grunted when he reached full speed. Time seemed to stand still when the boy held out his hands and Yarrick flew backward. It was as if he had been pushed by a hurricane gust of wind. Yarrick looked like a wire was pulling him through the air as he whipped backward. The Russian crashed back-first into a jukebox, shattering the glass with a tremendous crash.

  Stucky nearly dropped his gun. "What are you?"

  The boy was equal parts confused and impressed. "I'm Ted."

  3

  Ted looked down at his hands as if they weren't even a part of his body. He glanced at the now obliterated jukebox with a large Russian sitting on the top and then back to his hands. The nervous mass of energy in his stomach dissipated for the first time in years. Finally, he put two and two together.

  I just did that. Holy crap!

  The thug who made the incantation stood up and circled him in a fighting stance. Ted put his hands out as he had before and watched the crook levitate several inches off the ground.

  "What are you doing?"

  Ted studied his hands and lifted them up. As he did, the man floated higher into the air.

  A smile spread across Ted’s face. "I'm hanging you out to dry."

  The thug flailed his arms and legs as Ted continued to lift the man up, up, and accidentally into the path of the ceiling fan. The wooden blades smacked him twice in the temple. A few cracks startled Ted, causing him to let the man fall straight down. The thump of the thug’s weight against the floor made Ted wince.

  That could've gone better.

  He heard a clapping sound from across the room. Ted looked up to see the gang’s ringleader slowly putting his hands together. He was the only one of the thugs wearing a smile, and the grin was from ear to ear.

  "Ted, Ted. It's great to meet you. I never thought they'd send a living soul to deal with little old me."

  Ted moved his hands into the ready position. He'd send the Brit into the wall if he needed to. Even if it meant taking out one of his favorite decorative books.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "How unfortunate." The leader wore a fake pout. "You don't even know who you are? You must realize that you play a very important part in all of this."

  Ted’s pulse quickened. "If I'm so important, then let everybody go and keep me."

  The Brit raised his eyebrows. "So selfless. Let me give you a little history lesson, Ted. Your world is a bargaining chip in the middle of a cosmic civil war."

  The ringleader moved closer and Ted’s heart skipped a beat.

  "I'm warning you!"

  When the Brit kept on coming, Ted knew he had no choice. He thrust his hands toward the man. But the thug somehow swatted Ted's power away like a gnat.

  Not good. Not good!

  The ringleader didn't break his stride. "And in any war, there are casualties."

  Ted stepped back and let his power fly with a grunt, but again his opponent had no trouble deflecting it away.

  His palm sweat dripped to the floor, as Ted’s last attempt made no impact whatsoever. The Brit grabbed Ted by the throat and lifted him into the air.

  He fought for oxygen as his world darkened.

  The ringleader tightened his grip. "The losers end up with the most casualties, Ted. Sorry you're on the wrong side."

  Ted pulled at the fingers around his throat and panic started to set in.

  Don’t wanna die. Don't wanna die!

  In a flash of insight, he remembered a booth with a loose table in the corner of the room. Ted focused all his dwindling energy on ripping out the nuts and bolts with his mind. He could feel the metal turning as he fought for air. The moment he heard the scattered hardware slide along the floor, he pictured sending the heavy table in their direction.

  The rectangular projectile flew across the room and nailed the Brit in the lower back. He dropped Ted with a snarl. During a dizzy roll to his side, Ted welcomed as much air into his lungs as possible.

  He coughed. "Thank you, shoddy craftsmanship." Ted looked up to see Nigel completely recovered and his heart sank.

  "Very clever, boy." He grabbed Ted by the shirt. "But clever only gets you so far."

  The Brit tightened his grasp and tossed Ted like a rocket. Air streamed by his cheeks as he picked up speed. He'd barely braced himself when he crashed arm first through the window on the diner’s back door. The sharp burst of pain and the sight of pavement filled his world as he shut his eyes and braced for impact.

  4

  Natalie pouted on her bed. It had been years since she ditched her orange and purple basketball sheets for a more modern design, though her current state of emotions made her feel like a little kid again.

  "I'm the one who broke up with him. I shouldn't be upset. I should feel free."

  She felt the opposite. It's not like she was the sort of person who played the relationship field. Ted was the first person who even acknowledged having a crush on her. Most guys wanted to take her out on the court, not take her out to dinner. She'd had high hopes for Ted, and for a little while he'd lived up to them.

  "You aren't so tough," he'd say. "Deep down, you're Martha Stewart."

  Most of the time, Natalie wanted to be seen as an athlete first and a girl second. There were occasional moments, though, and they were becoming more frequent, that she wanted to be treated like she was beautiful.

  A month ago, when she saw him in his homecoming suit and took in the way he looked at her in a blue gown, she felt more like a typical girl than ever before. Ted's eyes seemed to focus on every part of her at once. With her mother’s makeup help, Natalie almost didn't recognize herself in the mirror, and she told Ted as much.

  His eyes glistened. "Now you get to see what I always see underneath."

  She didn't remember many words spoken the rest of the dance, because after he'd said that, she was either kissing him or putting her head on his chest for the next three hours. At the end of the night, she told Ted she loved him.

  That's when things started to go downhill.

  "Really?"

  "It's the truth."

  "I'm... thank you."

  And that was where the conversation ended. The next day in school, Ted was more distant and she couldn't tell why. She assumed it was those three little words, until Dhiraj cleared things up.

  "At the dance, that's when the rumor spread that Erica had run away."

  She felt her stomach twitch even now. After she told Ted she loved him, she later realized the reason he didn't reciprocate was because he still loved that skinny, popular shrew of a cheerleader. Even though Erica wouldn’t acknowledge his existence, he refused to let those feelings go. At that very moment, Natalie had begun to plan the breakup in her mind.

  Sighing away the memory, she took the homecoming dress out of her closet and brought it over to the bed. She touched the fabric and looked at the photo frame she had by her bedside. Of all the pictures they'd taken before homecoming, Natalie chose to print out the goofy shot, her with her tongue sticking out and Ted flexing.

  "I ended things. Bu
t he never started them." Her eyes welled up. "He still loved her."

  She rolled over to her end table and grabbed her phone. After a deep breath, she texted Dhiraj.

  Dhiraj Patel had just put the finishing touches on his latest viral blog post in the making when he received Natalie's text.

  "You awake?"

  He chuckled to himself as he typed his response. "It's Sunday, you know I get up at 5."

  Dhiraj assumed that regular teenagers slept until noon on the weekend, but he ate average for breakfast. The teenage entrepreneur was already well on his way to paying for college with his network of passive income websites and shrewd investments. A full cash payment for his Wharton MBA was next on his hit list. The front page of his website said it all with a featured high-resolution image of him sitting with his feet up at a desk and a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

  His phone buzzed again with the expected, but unfortunate news.

  "I broke things off with Ted."

  Last year, when Natalie told Dhiraj she was going to ask Ted out, it was the most nervous he'd ever seen her, and he'd even witnessed her throw up before a state playoff field hockey game.

  "What if he says no?"

  "Then you're not allowed to beat him up."

  Natalie punched Dhiraj in the shoulder. He had a bruise in that spot for the next three days.

  After Ted said yes to Natalie's request, the three of them went out to celebrate at Page's. He sighed when he thought of it ending in the same place.

  Dhiraj dialed up Natalie and heard the uncharacteristic emotion in her voice.

  She sniffled before speaking. "Hi."

  "How did he take it?"

  He'd known it was coming – even though Natalie hadn't told him outright, all the hints were there. The two of them were going on fewer dates, they didn't laugh nearly as often, and their awkward public displays of affection were down to a minimum.

  "He apologized and tried to pay for brunch."

  Dhiraj wasn’t surprised at the gesture. After all, Ted was the only one on the local seventh grade baseball team who was willing to talk to him after 10 consecutive strikeouts. Dhiraj was much more successful as the business manager of the girl's field hockey team, which connected him with Natalie and put them on the inevitable, ill-fated course toward becoming "Tedalie."

  "Did he cry?"

  "He almost cried. I nearly cried."

  Dhiraj couldn't imagine Natalie crying, though rumor had it that the end of the movie Rudy could make her weepy.

  "It's alright, Nat." He did his best to smile through the phone. "Now we can go back to just being friends like before."

  "I don't know, Dhiraj. Maybe it'll never get back to normal."

  "On TV sitcoms, the main characters always stay friends after dating."

  "That's because they're under contract."

  Dhiraj wondered if Natalie was right. Would he have to hang out with them separately for the rest of high school? Would he have to choose between the two of them? He would never do that. The people he loved were like the stocks Warren Buffett bought: they were for keeps.

  He sighed. "Do you want me to check in on him?"

  "Could you?"

  Dhiraj logged into one of his many social media accounts. It was one he kept personal and away from his many business dealings.

  He sent Ted a message. "Hey buddy, I heard the news. Are you doing OK? Do you need an ice cream?"

  Ted was obsessed with returning messages right away. He never wanted to keep anybody waiting. That’s why Dhiraj thought it very odd when two minutes of radio silence went by.

  Dhiraj shrugged. "Maybe he's in the can. So, how's Jennifer?"

  Natalie groaned. "Ugh, can't you go a day without talking about her?"

  Dhiraj had eyes for one woman and one woman alone. Jennifer Norris wasn't considered a knockout by most, but Dhiraj refused to rate any girl higher. Truth be told, his stint with the girl's field hockey team was all about her. She always seemed to be dating someone whenever he got the courage to ask her out. Despite his numerous fiscal goals, Dhiraj placed scoring a date with Jennifer at the top of his priority list.

  Dhiraj knew that distraction was the best medicine during a time like this. The basketball and field hockey star had employed the same technique when his mother passed away in ninth grade.

  "Any word from Ted?"

  Dhiraj glanced up at his screen. There was no reply. There wasn't even a "seen" tag.

  "Nothing yet. He must be really upset. Do you think he'd have a breakdown in the middle of Page's?"

  "Dhiraj! Don't say that."

  "I'm going to check."

  Natalie growled at him as he loaded up his Twitter feed. He searched for Page's. He was surprised to see a similar message come up several times in the last five minutes.

  Dhiraj squinted. "Hmm."

  "What is it?"

  "There's nothing about a breakdown, but several people said that Page's is closed."

  "It's not. I was there 20 minutes ago."

  "One says, 'Page's closed on a Sunday? Lame.' That's from two minutes ago."

  Natalie began speaking more quickly. "It was packed, Dhiraj. Something strange is going on."

  Dhiraj thought of the possibilities. There were the positive ones, like Page's running out of food, and there were the negative ones, like Ted freaking out and getting the place shut down. Dhiraj hoped for the former.

  "I'm sure it's fine. Ted just dropped his phone somewhere and Page's is having a private event. I'll call Ted's house."

  Natalie did not sound convinced. "Okay."

  "Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know as soon as I find something out."

  "Thanks, Dhiraj."

  He hung up and dialed the Finley residence, but nobody picked up there, either. He ended the call before the answering machine could kick in. Dhiraj looked back up at his feed and tried to put the pieces together.

  "Where are you, Ted Finley? And wherever you are, are you having a breakdown?"

  5

  After Nigel threw the kid through the window, Stucky assumed the jig was up. He figured they'd run and try this again in another diner in another town. Much to his surprise, Nigel was able to calm everybody's nerves with relative ease.

  "We all have options, ladies and gentlemen. One of them ends with you dead on the pavement. Wouldn't you much rather choose door number two?"

  The patrons who screamed and shrieked during the confrontation quieted down. Stucky could tell that they'd resigned themselves to death either way. The mood in the room was black.

  "Tank, please dust off Yarrick so he can help me with the ritual."

  In all the hubbub, Stucky had nearly forgotten about his comrade. Yarrick was bloody and bruised, but standing. Tank used a laminated menu at the hostess station to brush the glass from Yarrick's back.

  The Russian grunted and shook off the cobwebs. "I'm right as rain, boss."

  "Good. It’s your time to shine."

  As Yarrick approached, Stucky spied Carter on the ground. He was motionless but breathing. Stucky had watched enough professional football to know a severe concussion when he saw one. He thanked the stars above that he wasn't the one dumb enough to go chasing after the kid with superpowers.

  Nigel made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Stucky, go and check on our little friend outside."

  Stucky sent a silent curse skyward and walked toward the door. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Yarrick remove a sheet of paper from Carter's jacket.

  They're really gonna do it. They're really gonna kill her in front of all those people.

  Stucky met the faceless man just a few weeks earlier. He'd gone into the alley of his favorite bar to get a smoke. When Stucky patted his pockets looking for a lighter, the man came forward from the shadows and presented his. Stucky thanked him and struck up a conversation.

  "What business you in, mister?"

  The man, whose face was half-obscured by a dark hood, spoke in low tones. "I'm a heal
er."

  Stucky couldn't place where his new friend was from. The gravelly tone of his voice made an accent hard to detect.

  "Like at a hospital or something?"

  The man chuckled out of one side of his mouth. "Hospitals wouldn't understand what I do. It's not legal medicine."

  "I hear that. The law ain't what it's cracked up to be."

  "I agree completely." His shadowy face shifting into a smile. "I'm able to do things a hospital couldn't even dream of. For a price."

  "You've got to get paid, of course."

  The man gave Stucky his card. There was no name or address on it, just a phone number.

  Later that week, when Nigel came into the hideout with two bullet wounds in his side, the hooded man jumped into Stucky's mind. He showed up just two minutes after the phone call, like he was around the corner waiting for something to happen. When he arrived, he pulled off his hood to reveal only half a face. The man's features looked normal enough on the right side, but the left side was withered and pale.

  His voice was like a growl. "I can keep him alive."

  "Please." Stucky’s heart was on the brink of explosion. "What do we owe you?"

  "His life, of course."

  Stucky had no idea what the man was talking about. When he took Nigel's arm and started to chant, Tank stomped over and pushed the faceless man to the ground.

  "A man's dying and you're speaking gibberish." Tank grabbed his brother by the collar. "I told you, I can find us a doctor."

  "Your friend has minutes to live." The faceless man got up so nimbly, it was as if he floated to his feet. "I can cure him completely, but you need to let me do what I must."

  "And what if you fail?" Yarrick placed his hand on his pistol.

  The faceless man’s grin was something out of a nightmare. "You can kill me. Time is of the essence. Do we have a deal?"

  Tank pulled out his gun and aimed it at the man's chest. "You've got 60 seconds."

  "As long as you do everything I say, your friend will live."

  Stucky stepped back as the man resumed his chant. A symbol came completely into focus on his arm and Nigel grimaced. The Brit tried to talk, but it just sounded like he was gasping for air.