Chapter 31

Ray

"C’mon Fitzgerald!” I yelled. “You’ve got to catch that!”

Several people in the restaurant glanced at me, alarmed by my outburst. I threw some popcorn at the large-screen TV mounted on the wall. “That was a perfect throw! Right in your hands!” I grunted, sat back down, and picked up another chicken wing drenched in hot buffalo sauce, shaking my head in disappointment at my team.

The Cardinals were losing to the Seahawks 30 to 6. Things weren’t looking good. My oldest brother, Garret, was playing full back for the Cardinals and so far, he’d had only one run with just a two-yard gain. It was starting to get too painful to watch.

I leaned back in my chair, drinking my soda and looking around the restaurant. It was a typical chicken wing restaurant. Great food, dim lights, sports jerseys hung up on the ceiling, and huge TV’s on every wall, playing all sorts of sports stations. My kind of place!

One TV caught my attention. It was the only one on the news channel. I couldn’t hear it very well, but what caught my attention was seeing my own face projected in high definition. It was a video of my fight at the school with Stoner. It had been a few days since, but it was still a hot topic on the news.

The video had obviously been filmed by one of the students with a phone. The quality was low, but it was still remarkable to watch. Stoner and I were moving as blurs back and forth, the camera often losing track of us.

I furrowed my eyebrows when the clip cut to the part where I’d summoned fire on my hands. It was a sweet-up sight to see. How did I do that? Yeah, I’d done it before then, and I knew I could do it, but I didn’t know how. I needed Mark to teach me how to do it, how to reach the second degree, but I hadn’t seen or heard from him in the past few days.

“Need a refill?” a waitress asked.

“Sure,” I said.

She poured more soda into my glass and glanced up at the TV showing the news. It was showing profile pictures of me, Stoner, and New Girl with our names and a message below. WANTED, it said in big, red letters. Dangerous Teenage Fugitives. Report Immediately.

The waitress looked at me, and then back at the TV with my photo displayed, and then back at me again. I smiled at her and waved. She spilled some of the soda onto the table. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” she said nervously. “My bad. Let me… let me go get a rag for that.” She skirted away from my table, glancing back at me as she walked.

I threw my napkin on the table and stretched my arms. Looks like my lunch is going to be cut short, I thought. I reached into my wallet and found only a one-dollar bill. I groaned as I placed it into the center of the table. I need more money.

I’d learned a couple days ago that paying people for food was so much more convenient than forcing them to give me it for free. Nobody asked questions or called the cops on me when I paid them. Well, except for now. That waitress had recognized me. I was sure the cops would be here any minute.

I stood up and walked toward the exit. I’d planned on watching the entire football game here, but it wasn’t really worth watching anymore anyways. I opened the door to leave.

“Hey, wait!” a guy at the register said. “Don’t forget to pay your tab!”

I turned on him, stoking my powers, glaring at him with my simmering eyes. He yelped, jumping back in surprise, as did a few customers who were looking my way. He didn’t try to stop me again as I walked out the door.

I sighed, enjoying the warmth from the sun, and put on sunglasses. I strolled casually down the sidewalk. I could have flown, but it’s super uncomfortable to fly on a full stomach. The cops probably wouldn’t get here for a few more minutes anyways, so I had enough time to walk away.

Being a god was fun, no doubt about it, but being poor was not. I needed some more mullah. I didn’t want to have to threaten everyone to do my bidding all the time. It was too much of a hassle, and… well….

I slid some headphones over my ears, bouncing to the heavy beat as I walked across Parlor Street toward the nearest bank. It was surprisingly busy for a bank, probably because it was so close to downtown Tucson. Men and women in business attire strode in and out of the glass doors. I ambled through, keeping my sunglasses and headphones on, and scanned the bank’s interior, trying to locate the vault.

I walked around a queue of people waiting to talk to a bank teller and leaped over the front desk. I moved slowly toward the hallways, not putting any effort into stealth. It took a moment for the bank staff to react; to them, I probably looked more like a lost teenager who took a wrong turn than I did a robber.

“Excuse me, sir,” a guy in a gray suit said. “I’m going to ask you to return to the other side of the desk, please.”

I ignored him, barely able to hear him over the music, and walked around a corner. No vault; just more corners to walk around. I sauntered down the hallway, my hands in my pockets. After rounding another corner, the vault finally came into view. A metal door, circular and thick, filled the space of the entire wall in front of me. It was closed, but that didn’t matter much to me.

Somebody grabbed me by the shoulder, it was the guy in a gray suit. He had a nice comb over and an awesome tie, grey on black with faded, curvy lines. “Sir!” Martin said—I read his name tag. “You’re not allowed back here! Come with me!”

He tried pulling me back toward the lobby, but I didn’t budge. I lowered my sunglasses with a finger and gave him a look that said, “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

He gasped, staring at my glowing eyes, and let go of me. I turned back toward the vault, bouncing to my music, strode up to the metal door, and grabbed the handle jutting out from the side. I took a deep breath, focusing on the fire within my gut, willing it to erupt. The burning sensation surged through me, making my arms and hands feel hot, though they didn’t glow red or emit fire like they did when I fought Stoner.

I pulled. The door made a loud, metallic groan as it resisted my efforts. I grabbed it with two hands, placing one foot on the wall, and yanked on it fiercely. The handle bent, forming a V. The door strained for a second, and then swung open, stone and concrete flying free from the roof and wall. The whole building shook from the commotion, causing all sorts of alarms to blare and flash. I dusted off my hands, readjusted my sunglasses, and gazed into the vault.

There was a shelf on the side of the vault that had separated wads of hundred, fifty, and twenty-dollar bills. I was about to grab an armful of money but realized it would be way easier with a bag. I laughed under my breath. I guess you forget to get things like bags when you decide last minute to rob a bank.

Oh well. No biggie.

I leaned into a run, blasting past a group of guys. Martin was with them and so was a security guard with a pistol. I jumped over the front desk, and skid to a stop in the lobby, right next to a middle-aged lady. By the time she noticed me, I had already slid her black purse off of her shoulder. “Thanks!” I said.

She yelped in fright, and I took off, back toward the vault.

I zipped past the guys looking into the empty vault with confused expressions, and stopped in the center of the vault, ready to load up. I dumped the items from within the purse onto the vault’s floor, and then reached for the wads of hundred-dollar bills and placed them into the purse, nodding to my music’s beat as I went.

After a moment, the security guard recollected himself, and ordered me to do something. I couldn’t hear him very well over my music, and I wasn’t really listening anyways. I kept grabbing wads of cash, filling the purse to the brink. I felt something sting on my shoulder, like someone threw a hard candy at me. I felt more stings on my back, but I ignored them.

The purse was full. Satisfied, I turned to leave the vault. A group of half a dozen guys stood outside the vault, looking perplexed. The security guard, with a goatee and a cap, kept his gun leveled on me, disbelief spread across his face.

“Thanks for the money,” I said, lifting the purse. “I’ll just be on my—”

Gunshots sounded again, cutting me off. I got pelted on the chest, on the forehead, and then my left headphone exploded, falling off my ear. The sound died, both the gunshots and the music. I pulled off my sunglasses and my broken headphones and glared at the security guard. His eyes widened in fear.

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I bolted out of the vault, grabbed the guard by the throat with one hand, slammed him against the wall, and hoisted him a couple feet off the ground. “I loved that song!” I said through gritted teeth. His feet dangled below him as he clawed at my hand. Martin and another guy in a suit tried tackling and punching me, but I stood firm. I threw them both off of me with a wave of my left hand, which still clung onto the black purse full of cash. I used my other hand to squeeze on the security guard’s larynx, his face turning pale.

Then, I let go. The guard crumpled to the floor, coughing and wheezing for air. I glowered down at him, and to the guys around me. They kept their distance this time, clearly frightened of me. The alarms continued to shriek, sounding louder now that I didn’t have my headphones on.

I blinked, looking down at the guard with a goatee. He looked so weak, massaging his throat as he gasped for air. I frowned, feeling sick inside. Why’d he have to go and shoot my headphones?

I shook my head, taking one last look at the people around me. Martin backed away from me, fear spread across his face as he favored his right ankle.

I heaved a sigh, and then stoked my powers as I levitated into the air, shot around the corners, passing around baffled men and women, and launched out of the bank and up to the sky. I looked down at the bank below, the black purse still secure in my grip—no way would I sling it over my shoulder.

Police cars approached the building. Their car sirens and the bank’s alarm system filled the air with a constant ringing. Several cops ran inside the bank, weapons drawn. A few others followed the gaze of a few women who were pointing up at me. I frowned, as I flew away, looking down at the city below.

Getting money was nice, especially when nobody had to die. Still, the look on the guard’s face kept replaying in my mind.

I suddenly heard a loud thumping directly ahead of me. I lifted my gaze and saw a white helicopter just feet in front of me. I yelped, reflexively redirecting my energy to lift me higher into the air. The blades barely missed me, spinning only inches below me. As the chopper passed me, it pitched and rolled; the pilot was probably trying to regain control after nearly hitting a flying teenager. I assumed that wasn’t something they had practiced too often in helicopter school.

The pilot turned the helicopter around to get a good look at me. I hovered in place. The chopper had a police symbol on the side, which meant that it must’ve been called here for the bank robbery. I looked down at the black purse in my hand, wads of cash nearly falling out. Could they see that?

The helicopter lowered its blades, careening toward me. “Oh great!” I said under my breath. I turned away from the chopper and flared my powers, bursting into motion, the wind howling in my ears. I looked over my shoulder, satisfied. The helicopter wasn’t even close to keeping up with me. It quickly became a small dot in the distance.

Confident the pilot wouldn’t be able to follow me, I shifted directions, heading toward my temporary home. It was the only hotel in the city that hadn’t asked me to verify my age. The suite wasn’t anything compared to home, but home was crawling with cops at the moment.

Without my powers, I would’ve been a scared seventeen-year old, living in hiding, alone and miserable, ducking every time someone looked at me. But, with my powers—I glanced down at the purse full of cash—I was living like a king, out in the open, unafraid, and… well…. I guess I’m still alone.

Just before I reached the hotel, something slammed into me from the right, hard. It felt like I got hit by a freight train, and the world started spinning as I plummeted downward. I hit the ground with a thud, rolling a few dozen yards before skidding to a stop.

I lay there for a moment, unsure about what just happened. Did the helicopter shoot a rocket launcher at me? I wondered, because that’s what it felt like. No way did they catch up with me. I rubbed my shoulder and popped my neck, gathering in my surroundings.

I was in a park. Green grass, trees, playgrounds, dogs, and people—who were all gawking at me and the small crater formed by my fall. I looked up toward the direction where I got hit. I didn’t see any smoke anywhere, so that reasoned out the rocket launcher idea. Where was my purse—er, the black bag? I scanned the park grounds, unable to find it. It had to have landed around here somewhere.

“Looking for this?” a voice said somewhere above me.

I looked up and saw nothing. “What the…” I said. And then the purse instantly appeared out of thin air, falling directly above my head. I reached up to catch it, but with a whooshing sound, it vanished just before touching my fingers.

Someone was laughing at me. The voice I heard earlier, above me. It was a male voice, unfamiliar. But, I couldn’t see anything above me.

The purse reappeared to my left, just inches from my face. It was held by a hand. Yes, a hand. A flying hand. That’s all! It was cut off at the wrist, sort of like the Thing from the Addams Family. I scrunched my face in confusion.

“Come and get it!” the voice said.

I clawed after the purse, but it and the flying hand disappeared just before I reached them, and I ended up grabbing nothing but air.

The voice laughed again. “Too slow!”

I could hear the voice circle in the air around me while it spoke. I blinked my eyes, still unable to see anything but the blue sky above me, and furrowed my eyebrows, realizing what I was dealing with.

“You’re a Starling, aren’t you?” I said. “You’re the one who touched the third stone.”

The on-looking people throughout the park kept their distance from me; they probably thought I was simply having an argument with my imaginary friend.

The invisible guy just laughed in response. He was a Starling with invisibility powers. How do you fight an invisible super human? I focused on every sound he made. A flying human sounding something like a baseball bat—you know when you swing it through the air and it makes that whooshing sound? That’s what I could hear every time he moved through the air.

“Did Mark teach you how to become invisible?” I asked. “Do you think he could teach me that trick?”

“Psh, you wish!” the guy snapped. I turned my gaze toward his voice, all I could see was a large palm tree several yards in front of me. “It doesn’t work that way,” he continued. “The second degree is unique for every—”

In an explosion of power, I flew to where I predicted he would be and swung my fist as hard as I could. I made contact with something solid, but unfortunately it wasn’t his face, maybe just his shoulder—or his foot? The moment before my fist touched him, my hand and wrist completely vanished, and then reappeared a second later.

That was weird.

He grunted and flew away. I should’ve followed him, but I flinched. It’s not every day your hand disappears when you punch a guy, okay. Maybe whatever touched him would turn invisible. That explained how his clothes were invisible. Or did he just not wear clothes? Gross!

No. He made the purse appear and disappear while holding it. How did he do that? Ray! I thought. This isn’t a time to think about the mechanics of his powers. Instead you should focus on listening where he…

Too late.

His fist suddenly connected with my jaw, sending me sprawling. I recovered quickly, rolling to my feet and raising my arms over my head.

The invisible Starling went for my midsection, kneeing me—or at least I thought it was his knee; I couldn’t really tell—right in the gut, causing me to keel over in pain. He didn’t let up. He kept hitting me as I was down.

How had I come from being regarded as a god in that bank just moments earlier, to falling to my knees before this coward who wouldn’t face me in a fair fight? I wouldn’t have it. I was Draco!

The fire within me roared to life. I pushed off the grass, rocketing high into the air.

I looked down at the park. A large group of people in the park were watching me fly off and, of course, several of them had their phones out to film me. I wondered what a viral video of this fight would look like. It would either be titled Draco Defeats Invisiguy Like a Boss, or Superhuman Teenager Practices Contemporary Dance in the Park.

I frowned as I gazed downward with my glowing eyes. I had no idea where he was. I calmed my breath, trying to listen for any whooshing sounds. I hovered there for a moment, only hearing silence, besides the wind.

I came up with a plan. I needed to grab him. Wrestle the money out of his hands. As long as I had a hold on him, I would know where he was.

“Are you meditating or something?” the Starling chortled from behind me.

I snapped into motion, flying toward his voice, ready to grab him. He was ready for my outburst this time. He flew away; I could hear him ahead of me. I chased after him.

The black purse reappeared with Invisiguy’s severed hand bouncing it up and down. “Is this what you want?” Invisiguy said. “Come and get it!”

I flew toward the purse, intending to grab him instead of the money, but he flew away, just out of my reach. He flew higher and faster, and I followed close behind. He went straight through a cloud, but I stayed close enough that I never lost sight of the black purse. We burst out the top of the cloud and kept flying through clear skies.

Why was he letting me see the purse? He could turn it invisible if he wanted and make his escape. I cursed under my breath. He wanted me to follow him! I didn’t want to play his game, but I couldn’t let him get away with all my money either. My best option was to catch up to him and take back the money before we arrived to wherever he was taking me.

I flared my power, directing all of my energy directly toward my feet, and flew faster than I ever had before. I’d hoped to catch Invisiguy right away, but man… he was good at flying! He stayed just a few yards ahead of me.

The air around me grew cold as we sped up. The sound of the wind started to fade, but the resistance was still there. My legs felt a little wet. I looked over my shoulder and saw a small cloud forming around my body as I skimmed through the air. It was like one of those vapor cones that would form around a jet after reaching supersonic speed. Wow, I thought. I’m flying faster than the speed of sound!

Invisiguy had a vapor cone around him too, but it looked different because, well… he was invisible. In fact, the vapor outlined his figure, making it easier for me to follow him. His form looked strange, almost non-human. It seemed too round, too large, too… bubbly? Oh, I thought. That’s how his powers work. He himself isn’t invisible; he must have some sort of bubble of invisibility around him. That’s why my fist disappeared when I punched him; it had passed through the bubble. And, supposedly, he could manipulate the bubble, like he was doing now with his hand and the purse.

Invisiguy changed directions, plunging straight down. I reached for the black purse, but barely missed. I swore again, clenching my jaw. This thief was going to get the beating of a lifetime as soon as I got a hold of him.

I shot down toward him, toward the city, passing through a thin layer of clouds, slowly gaining on him. “Come here!” I shouted. “You invisible little…”

His hand and purse suddenly disappeared as he approached some abandoned building. I slowed down, trying to listen for him. I thought I heard him flying toward one of the broken windows on the top floor of the building. I flew closer, scanning the entire floor, looking for any trace of movement, and listening carefully.

“Where did you go, you coward?” I shouted toward the building as I hovered in the air, shifting my eyes toward the lower floors. It would be impossible to find him in there; the place was huge, and he was freakin’ invisible!

Something caught my eye. A man standing near one of the broken windows on the highest floor. I burst into motion, flying directly toward him. As I approached, I stopped, hovering just outside the window, recognizing him. Dark skin, slick black hair, a goatee, and a thick build. He wasn’t as tall as me, but he postured himself as if he were above everyone.

“Hey, Draco,” Mark said casually. “Thanks for coming. We need to talk.”