28) The Talk

I had already gotten ready for bed and was doing some light reading on a new series from an author I liked when it seemed like every animal on the ranch started making a ruckus and a feeling of mild shame drifted over to me.

I pulled on a set of jeans and a pullover as I headed out to throw some grain at, sorry, to the Murder Geese, and set a few scoops out for the crows as well while giving Shimmer a mild look of annoyance. “Go say Hi to Chester, you're his favorite now.”

The teen superhero looked both happy and nervous about that but she still took a scoop of grain in a force constructed bowl to go feed and pet the old horse until he settled down to watch the two of us from the barn.

I waited for her to finish up while sitting in my rocking chair.

She sat down on the other side of the porch on one of the cast iron chairs next to the tea table that my Grandmother had managed to paint white before anyone could stop her. Both the table and the chairs.

After sitting there for a moment in silence and starting to relax, she huffed and straightened up. “As a first generation, I don’t know if anyone had the talk with you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her in response.

She fiddled with her hands. “To start with, everyone is a regenerator. Supers that is."

I leaned back in my chair. “Go on?”

Crossing her arms, I could feel her embarrassment. “The rule of thumb is, whatever power you have, take the rank and put a decimal point in front of it, and that is typically your regenerator ranking. That's why even Rank 1 Supers are healthy and attractive, They normally not only age well, but live longer.”

She looked down for a moment. “And it’s why people like my parents had me when they were so young. At a .5 Rank of regeneration, normal doses of birth control aren't enough, and my Dad’s vasectomy healed up within two years of him getting his powers. But at least by then the First Genners had a clue what was happening.”

I slowly nodded. “Me and Scorn did use a condom.”

Shimmer leaned forward and covered her face with both hands while muttering something.

I hesitated but still asked. "What?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

She pulled her hands apart just enough for me to hear her while she was still looking down. “It’s a special brand, you can get them at the clinic at the Palace for free. Or get them at any Core Values store. They have to be made extra strong for Brutes.”

I had been aware of them, but buying them outed you as a Brute. Double layering had been my solution.

Shimmer got up and walked to the far end of the porch. "Oh god, this is even worse explaining it than when both of my parents came into my room to talk to me about it. When I was seventeen.”

I blinked a few times. “So. Scorn had some ready at my Brute rating before she even came over that night.”

Even as I said it I realized I shouldn’t have mentioned it, at least not with that tone of smugness.

I could feel Shimmer's glare from across the porch. "That's what you got from all of that?" Then she hissed "Boys"

Turning my head to look at her, I smiled. "Why can't I be happy she chose me, not on the spur of the moment, but as something she decided in advance? Even if it's only a one time thing. It’s nice to know someone wanted me."

The teen threw up her hands. “It’s just… weird. You’re supposed to be this mysterious mentor guy who’s on call to show up to help me out so if anyone dies when I fail to save them, I get a second shot, and they get a second chance. You’re the adult who doesn't treat me like a kid they saw grow up running around their homes and playing with their kids. Now you're the guy who hooked up with my sister while she was working for him." She threw her hands out at me. "Was that grooming? I want to be upset about this.”

I slowly shook my head. "I think Scorn would know if someone was trying to mess with her head." I twisted my lips off to one side but finally asked. "Is she okay? She was kind of upset herself this morning and I haven’t seen her. I’m not asking where she is in case she needs some time to herself. I’m just…” I waved a hand around in the air. “...concerned?”

Shimmer leaned back against the porch railing. “She’s fine, just off in her cave, checking on her supplies for winter so can start hitting sales to stock up. She didn't want to talk to me. Or tell me if she was staying in her cave or over here in her trailer when the snows come.”

Or if she would be willing to stay in a house that had been built and expanded to hold three generations of a family at a time, which I hoped she knew was an option.

Of course, if she was out living in the woods because she hated being around too many minds at a time as an Empath, having an attic full of mice with a group mind might be a problem for her. Actually I wonder if she had room to sleep two in her trailer?

"Could you let her know she's always welcome here? As… On whatever terms she wants."

The teen nodded, then swiveled her legs over the railing to drop onto a brightly colored construct of light that resembled a motorcycle without wheels. "I'll tell her if I see her first. Night." Then she was off, hunched low behind the handlebars in her hands.

After a few hours of trying not to fixate on what I could have done differently, I managed to get some sleep.

Manifest called me the next day to see if I needed a lift to school, which I thanked him for since my Farmhand was still AWOL leaving me with all the morning chores. As for getting home, I didn't want to bother him and I took the tube back and walked the rest of the way.

So I was pretty calm when I saw Scorn clearing out Chester’s stall.

Walking up behind her, I stopped before I got too close. “Welcome back.”

She went stiff for a moment and then turned and stepped up close enough to set her head against my shoulder.

I whispered. “Stay for dinner.”

She leaned away and began throwing out more hay. “Yes. Thanks for the flowers.”

Outside the barn, I allowed myself a fist pump and heard her snort from inside. I guess she knows how I feel, and she still came back.

I got myself a woman. If she’s still here next year I might even tell other people about it.

About an hour later I got the email from the Mice’s lawyer. Orpheus Vs Jones had a court date before a Federal Judge in two weeks. I was going to be required to appear in person, not riding a corpse, which meant I was going to have to get a hold of something formal to wear that was bearable for what could be most of a day in court.

And also hadn’t previously had a dead body stuffed into it.