“Back the fuck away from me.” People cowered from him.
The air was growing stifling, as if the temperature were spiking a degree a second. Sweat dripped from Big Guy’s face, soaking his shirt.
The rumbling in the tunnel increased to a substantial quake. In the distance, I thought I heard . . . a roar.
Big Guy went nuts, banging on the doors, kicking the safety glass, which cracked into a starburst but didn’t give.
Light shone from farther along the tunnel. The quality and intensity of the light seemed to come from a natural source of some kind. I thought it was . . . fire. Or even sun?
Which couldn’t be right. I checked the clock on my phone. Night. The sky should be getting darker.
A shrill shriek sounded. Then came an explosion. Before it could subside, there was another. And another . . . The roar was deafening.
Everyone hunched down. One man cried, “We’re under attack! Those must be bombs!”
Hardly. If bombs had been dropped, we’d all be dead. And who would blanket an airport in weak bombs? I thought it was an even worse scenario: airplanes were dropping out of the sky. “They’re planes,” I murmured.
Even over all the commotion, some guy in a suit heard me. “And how would you know about the planes? What are you doing with that phone?”
I swallowed. “Checking the time.” I stowed the phone in my pocket.
“Boy, you got yourself a weird accent,” Big Guy said—in a weird accent. “Why would you say planes are dropping?”
How to explain to a man wearing an orgasm-donor T-shirt that bombs didn’t make sense?
A screech drew our attention toward the front of the train, where the light was. Another train car was coasting toward us, seeming to roll with no brakes or power, just kinetic energy. A wayward train.
A ghost train.
People aimed their flashlight apps at the car. The exterior was charred black, and all the windows had been shattered. Was that blood splattered over the remaining shards of glass?
As the car grated past us, it dragged a chunk of a plane’s fuselage.
Evidence that planes had dropped.
All eyes turned to me—as if I had done that. I raised my hands. Big Guy looked like he was about to murder me with his meaty fists.
“I’m just a student. I-I didn’t have anything to do with this!”
Big Guy had followers now. As he and two other men stalked closer, I felt some odd force building inside me.
“Don’t come any closer!” My hands shook, my body vibrating with energy. Something was happening.
Was I truly the Star?
My mind flashed to my chronicles. Nova. Supernova. Superluminous supernova. Stellar-mass black hole. Inburst. Outburst. Nuclear fusion.
Cataclysm.
“I-I don’t want to have an outburst! Please, stay back.” They didn’t. That energy inside me seemed to draw in on itself. Soon it would demand an outlet. “Please! I don’t want to hurt you!”
Big Guy’s eyes went wild. “So you did have something to do with this!”
“Nooo!” I felt like I was about to explode! My raised hands vibrated so fast, I couldn’t make them out. Just two blurs. My jaw dropped at the sight.
Big Guy seized the front of my shirt. Mistake.
Luminescent matter erupted from me like a shock wave. “Ahhh!”
In horror, I watched a blue light vaporize everyone before I lost consciousness. . . .
Slow to wake. What a bizarre dream.
Something hard was gouging my side. Had I fallen asleep with a book in my bed? I frowned. Was that . . . metal? I opened my eyes.
Ah, God, I lay on tracks! Naked? I shot upright. Dread coursed through me as I craned my head around.
The train! My breath strangled in my throat. What was left of the train.
The exterior had exploded, metal furling outward, like a tin can blown up by dynamite.
I gaped at the wreckage, imagining my next text to my parents: You were right about everything.
The Moon (XVIII)
Selena Lua, Bringer of Doubt
“Behold the Bringer of Doubt.”
A.k.a.: The Huntress, La Luna
Powers: Pathokinesis (emotion manipulation). Can cause doubt and use moonlight as a lure. Enhanced speed, endurance, senses, dexterity, healing. Precise aiming and superhuman archery.
Special Skills: Motorcycling, marksmanship.
Weapons: Longbow, sword, firearms, whatever’s handy.
Tableau: A glowing goddess of the hunt with red-tinged skin, poised in moonlight.
Icon: Quarter moon superimposed over a full moon.
Unique Arcana Characteristics: Skin glows red like a hunter’s moon.
Before Flash: Motocross champion, Olympic archery hopeful, and college student who just moved away from her aunts’ home.
Highland University campus
Day 0
2:01 a.m.
As I lay paralyzed in a lacrosse player’s bed that smelled of sweat and stale beer, I listened to four players debate who would get “first dibs.”
On me.
I willed my muscles to work. None did.
I mentally screamed for my eyes to open. They refused.
All I could do was lie there, helpless, and replay the events that had gotten me to this point.
_______________
Three weeks ago
“Of course you’re not leaving, Lena.” Aunt Wanda adjusted her glasses, her nervous tell. “You belong here with us.”
“Why would you go to college?” Aunt Sharon demanded. She was as confident as Wanda was nervous. “The only things you need to learn concern the game.”
Always with the game! I might’ve been cursed to be the Moon Card, the Bringer of Doubt—but that didn’t mean a normal life was impossible.