An Angry Man

President Daniel Fuerte sat at his cluttered desk in the presidential office on the top floor of the Magdalia Palace. The morning sunshine reflected off the gold frame of a recently stolen painting on the wall. The glare gave him a mild headache after the long night. His face was haggard and his jaw unshaven, but his shiny black hair edged with gray at his temples appeared freshly groomed. He’d dozed on the plane ride back from Estero’s neighboring country, but he hadn’t slept enough, and he was ready to retire to his room for a few hours. When his desk phone rang, he sighed and picked it up. “Fuerte.”

A panicked voice greeted him. “Dad, I’m down in the dungeon. There’s been a break-­in overnight.”

“What?” Fuerte’s eyes widened. His daughter, Sabine, ran his secret Supernatural Locator and Recruitment Operation in the palace control room. She also managed the guards—­and their captive, Elena Golden.

“The place is trashed, and they took Elena.”

“What? No. She’s gone?” Fuerte leaned back in his leather-­and-­mahogany chair, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He pumped his fist against his forehead a couple times, then slammed it on the desk. “How?” he demanded. “We’ve got guards everywhere! There’s an iron fence surrounding us, for crying out loud!” He muttered some unsavory words under his breath.

“Security and staff are being questioned,” Sabine went on. “After Elena was freed, they locked the on-­duty officer inside the cell. He says it was done by . . . children. And something about a pig?

I’m waiting to hear more about that.”

Fuerte’s face darkened. “Didn’t you take care of those two kids the other night?”

Sabine hesitated. “Well, we tried. But the operation was interrupted in the wheat tunnel, and . . . we lost them. We thought we scared them off for good. Nobody knew they were capable of this.”

“I knew.” The president shook his head in disgust. “Find out if those two were working alone or if they had help. And figure out who they are and where they came from. Maybe we can . . .” He didn’t finish the thought. “Never mind. I’ll be right there.” He set the phone down hard in its cradle and muttered an oath, then pressed both palms on the desk and stood up. He chugged the dregs of his coffee and grimaced at its lukewarm temperature. Then he grabbed his suit jacket and started for the elevator, slipping it on as he stepped inside. He straightened and tightened his necktie as the elevator descended.

The door opened onto the main floor, and he headed for the door that led to the dungeon stairway. As he strode down the grand hall, lined with relics and priceless artifacts, he stopped short. A precious vase near the entrance to the dining room was missing. Had the intruders made off with that, too? Anger boiled up. But before he could process the implications of the theft, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and studied the caller’s information with narrowed eyes. It was his journalist contact, Emil Blanco at Estero City News. Had he heard about the break-­in already? A mere two minutes after the president was informed? Whoever tipped off Emil would have to be fired immediately. He touched the screen to answer.

“Emil!” Fuerte exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. He wondered how much the journalist knew about the break-­in. “What’s making news today?”

“Supernatural people are, apparently. How are you, sir?”

“I’m fine.” He hesitated, and his thick eyebrows met in concern. “What do you mean, supernatural people are making news?”

“I’ve received a tip,” Emil said. “Apparently one of the supernatural criminals was picked up by the police about thirty minutes ago after being seen leaving the palace grounds. Are you aware of this?”

“I know nothing about it,” said Fuerte, trying to sound shocked. It was a blatant lie. Jack and Greta Stone had just left the palace after returning from the overnight mission. “Which one was it?”

“Jack Stone.”

The president closed his eyes briefly and let out a silent sigh. “Glad the police are keeping an eye out,” he said lightly. But he knew he’d have to make a call to get Jack out of hot water.

“Any idea why he’d be hanging around the palace?” Emil asked.

“No, but it sounds alarming,” said the president. “I have a meeting now, but let me know if you find out anything else.” He hung up the phone and dialed another number.

“Commander Collazo speaking.”

“It’s Daniel.”

“I know, sir,” she said.

“Listen. You’re going to release Jack Stone. The statute of limitations on his thefts fifteen years ago is almost up—­just a couple of weeks away. And you’ve got no evidence he’s done anything since then. Tell your department to let him go.”

Commander Collazo sighed. “Just because the statute of limitations has nearly been reached doesn’t mean my squad won’t pick up people like him. You tightened the laws on supernatural people to an unbearable level—­even for the ones who haven’t done anything wrong. Jack Stone loitering around the palace before daylight is a crime merely because he’s supernatural. You make the rules. I just enforce them.”

Fuerte pinched the bridge of his nose, as if that would ease his growing headache. But then his eyes flew open as an idea came to him. “All right, fair enough. Let Jack go. I’ll be making some changes to the law. Soon.”

“It’s not that easy,” the commander insisted. “The people of Estero will hear about this, and they’re not going to like it. You’ve spent years turning everyone against supernatural people. Now you’re changing your policy? It’s going to be tricky. You’ve . . . conditioned them to hate supers. And believe me, they do.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just do what I tell you, and we’ll get along, like always. You like our arrangement, don’t you, Commander?”

There was a long, heavy pause on the other end of the line.

“Commander Collazo?” the president prompted.

“Yes. All right,” she said with finality. “I’ll let him go.”

The phone beeped in the president’s ear. With a smug smile, he proceeded to the dungeon to see about the other mess.



A Moment of Calm

Cabot Stone sat on the floor near The Librarian’s biggest apartment window, using the early-­morning light seeping between the curtains to see as she paged through a book from one of the stacks. The others were still asleep, wrapped in The Librarian’s blankets or their own parachute ones, and using their backpacks as pillows. Elena Golden, enjoying her first night out of prison in three years, was curled up on the sofa with Brix. Birdie slept on the floor next to them.

The Librarian emerged from her bedroom, freshly dressed for the day in a casual khaki-­colored jumpsuit and white sneakers. She held a pair of binoculars. She went to the window near Cabot and smiled warmly in a silent greeting, then put the binoculars to her eyes and peered out.

“What are you looking for?” Cabot whispered, her green eyes glinting. She flipped onto her knees and ran her fingers through her hair. Her white-­blond buzz cut was starting to get annoyingly long—­so long that it wanted to flop to one side. She wished she’d brought her homemade haircutting tool, but she hadn’t thought to grab it in their haste to leave the hideout. Surely people here in Estero had something similar—­The Librarian’s hair was evidence of that. She’d be on the lookout.

“I’m looking for drones,” said The Librarian. Her super-­short coiled Afro shone where the sunlight hit it. “Also wondering if the president’s guards or Estero police are milling around.”

“What’s a drone?”

“It’s a mechanical flying device that contains a video camera, which can be used to spy on people. Some of them look like birds, insects, or toy airplanes.”

Cabot’s eyes bugged out at the description. A video camera that looks like a bird? She didn’t fully understand how video worked, but her mind leaped to the problems and solutions it could create.
Pro: easier to spy on others. Con: easier to be spied on.

The Librarian continued, “I’m concerned the palace will use everything they have to try to track us down. And if they do, it’s my fault. I woke up in the middle of the night and realized I . . . well, I made a mistake. A big one.”

Cabot’s brow furrowed. The Librarian made mistakes? Cabot’s impression that The Librarian was nearly perfect began crumbling. “What mistake?” she asked hesitantly, hoping it wasn’t too bad.

Someone stirred on the floor nearby. The Librarian beckoned Cabot closer so she could talk more quietly. “I wiped all the palace workers’ short-­term memories, but I forgot about the dungeon security guard. And he saw some of the other kids. That means he can potentially identify them.”

“Here’s hoping for a concussion,” said Lada wryly from the shadowy living room. She lay on her back and gingerly pulled one knee toward her chest in a stretch, grimacing as she did so. She was really sore after last night’s activity.

The Librarian glanced at her and smiled grimly. “That’s a possibility.”

“Do they know where we are?” asked Cabot. “They couldn’t have followed us.”

“My mistake last night has me questioning all the other moves I’ve made recently. I’m starting to wonder if they’ve been tailing Lada and me, in addition to Tenner and Birdie. Probably not, because we’ve been extremely careful, but . . .” The Librarian put the binoculars down. “Out of an abundance of caution, we’re not taking any chances.” Her expression was stern, like she was disappointed with herself, which made Cabot empathize with her even more. The Librarian moved to the nearby desk and opened the lid of a small, thin computer. She entered a password, clicked the touch pad a few times, and started skimming the news headlines.

Cabot had crawled forward to watch the keystrokes. Fascinated, she memorized them—­even The Librarian’s password. Then she got up and peered over the woman’s shoulder, trying to figure out how she was pulling up the various news pages and making the headlines scroll on the screen. Her eyes darted from The Librarian’s fingertips tapping the keys and brushing the touch pad to the page on the screen refreshing to something totally different. “How do you know where the letters are without looking at them?” Cabot asked. “Do you have a photographic memory, too?”

The Librarian glanced up. “All keyboards are the same—­just like the one on Lada’s cell phone you were looking at yesterday. With practice, everyone can type without looking. It becomes automatic.” She typed the words learn how to type in the search bar and selected a video from the results that came up. Then she told Cabot to fetch the small black case from her bedside table.

Cabot located it, then took a moment to admire the crisp white comforter and colorful pillows on the bed, and the towering stack of books in the corner of the room. She returned and put the earbuds in, and The Librarian showed her how to pair them with the computer. Then The Librarian got up from the chair. “Have a seat, Cabot. Watch and listen to this video. Then play around with the keys and click on things. You’ll figure it out.”

Cabot pressed her pink lips together. “Thank you,” she said fervently. She sat down, then startled when the video sound played in her ears. She pulled one earbud out to make sure it wasn’t blasting through the room, because it seemed like it had to be. But all was silent in the apartment, just like the night before when they were all using the earpieces to communicate during the dungeon break-­in. Cabot focused on the screen, then followed the tutorial, placing her fingers on the keys in the proper alignment.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” The Librarian said. Cabot nodded, mesmerized. The Librarian took the binoculars and her keys from the kitchen counter and left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

Others stirred. Seven got up and trudged to the bathroom.

Tenner awoke, feeling a new sense of purpose after their decision to stay in Estero. The Librarian and Lada were determined to end oppression of people like them, and he wanted to be part of it.
As he blinked at the ceiling, thinking about his dead father, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief that one of the worst criminals was out of the picture. Troy Cordoba had been a terrible dad, and an incredible asset to the criminals because of his X-­ray vision. Him working with President Fuerte would have made the fight even harder for the good guys.

Tenner sat up and looked around at the people he was with. He realized he cared about them all, and they cared about him. It was comforting. He was glad they were all together again. He slithered out of his blanket and went to see what Cabot was doing with The Librarian’s computer.
Seven exited the bathroom and joined them, while Lada, who’d finished stretching and gotten to her feet, used her forearm crutches to make her way to the bathroom. Soon Birdie, Brix, and
Elena were waking up, too.

All of them were anxious about what the day would hold. The night before, they’d learned from
Elena that President Fuerte had recruited the other living supernatural criminal parents to help him steal precious artifacts from other countries, and that he had a desire to meet more supernatural people—­which seemed extremely odd based on how he’d been oppressing supers in Estero for years. They’d agreed to help fight against the oppression . . . and stop their awful parents from assisting the hate-­filled leader.

As the kids moved about the tiny apartment, they had brief conversations. Would the palace break-­in make it into the newspapers? Were they finally going to go after the hidden stash using the flaming map? Where were their parents living, and could they find them? How long would they stay in The Librarian’s apartment . . . and was there anywhere else to go?

“It would be nice to be somewhere with more bathrooms,” Birdie remarked, legs crossed as she waited her turn. Puerco, her tiny pig, snuffled and snorted near her feet, looking for something to eat. “Do you think we’ll be able to move to a bigger place once we cash out the stash and the diamonds Troy stole?”

“A place with beds for everyone,” Brix added, rubbing his sore neck.

“That would be my preference,” said Elena. “Once we find the stash, we’ll have plenty of money to fund our operation and give The Librarian her space back.”
Cabot finished her typing lesson. Having fully memorized the keyboard, she put the earbuds in their case and returned them to The Librarian’s bedside table. Then she turned her attention toward the others as Brix beat out Birdie in a race to the open bathroom.

“Sunrise Foster Home has available rooms and multiple bathrooms,” Lada offered with a laugh.

Elena cringed. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“I won’t be going back, either,” said Lada.

“Good,” Tenner said sharply. “The man running it seemed awful.”

“He was,” Birdie said, nodding vigorously. She remembered the threatening way he’d acted toward her when she’d peered in the window.

“LaDuca is the worst,” Lada agreed, but she didn’t seem to be overly bothered. “He hates me.”

She leaned on one of her forearm crutches to keep balance as she fluffed her light brown hair and smoothed down the flyaways. Then she started cleaning her glasses on her shirt. When she replaced them, she noticed one of the tools that had been specially retrofitted into her crutches was loose, so she clicked it securely into place.

“Won’t they consider you missing and go to the police?” Elena asked.

“They can’t tell the police about me,” said Lada. “They’re not supposed to be giving shelter to a supernatural person. They’ll be relieved if I never return—­it would make life a lot easier for them.”

“And you’re . . . not sad?” asked Brix. He tried to imagine what it would be like if the people he lived with didn’t like him. The thought made his chest hurt.

“No. I’m thrilled. I hope I never see that place again. With all of you here in Estero now, I feel kind of like my long-­lost cousins came to adopt me.” Her cheeks flooded with color.
Elena gave her an understanding smile. “I remember wanting something miraculous to happen to me when I lived there,” she said. “Even though the staff was supportive of supers back then, I still wanted a regular, accepting family after mine dumped me there and told me never to come back.”

She’d never had anyone want to take her out of the foster home—­none of the criminals had. Maybe her life would have turned out differently if that had been the case. “But Sunrise is where I met Louis, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Still, let’s hope this is a life-­changing pivot for you, Lada.”

Before anyone else could respond, they heard the key in the lock, and then the door flew open.

The Librarian stepped inside and closed it behind her. She flipped the dead bolt. “There are palace security guards surrounding the building,” she said, breathing hard. “Pack up everything you own. We need to run.”