Page 113 of No Capes

“Don’t tell me you’re sharing how you cheated.” A familiar voice muses. “Maddy’s going to get the wrong idea.”

“And there’s my cue to leave,” Damian says, slowly pushing himself out of the chair. “Don’t forget, Madeline. Everyone has a weakness, and the likelihood is that it won’t destroy you.”

“Our boy is so golden he sweats in 24 carats,” Fox jokes as he helps Damian step back into the house.

“This is coming from an Ex-Supervillain,” Damian says, lightly closing the door behind him.

Fox sinks in Damian’s chair. “He’s right though.”

“Okay, thanks. Got it the first time.” I say, and he winks at me.

Fox tips the chair back. Crickets chirp on the last of autumn’s green grass, while a low breeze blows through Fox’s hair.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggests.

“Um,” I hesitate. Pain shoots through my legs as I consider walking through the yard. How had the IVs not helped me? Injecting water into my veins should have activated healing powers. I groan, wondering how much more complicated my powers could get.

“I got you,” he says, standing and lifting me from the chair.

“Fox, oh my gosh.”

Fox runs, holding me piggy-back style.

“You’re not scared, are you?” he yells. Wind blows on my face as I shake my head. Fox zigzags all the way to the edge of Arielle’s yard.

“Are you kidding?” Fox had run to the only tree that wasn’t a casualty of my irrigation-explosion-crater, the willow tree. He leads me under its canopy.

“Remember when we were here?” he asks, breathless from running. He stops where I can lean back against the trunk for support. Fox moves until there’s only an inch of space between us.

“No, you’ll have to remind me.”

He brushes the edge of my cheek, where my stitches are, and I loop my arms around his neck.

“It’s a little different without a mask, isn’t it?” he asks.

“I get why we wear masks,” I whisper. My palm brushes the space under his eyes, where his protective garment would have been. “But why not wear a cape? Don’t superheroes wear capes?”

Fox gives a boyish whoop and moves away, like he’s infused with a windfall of energy. “Nah. Not unless they want a death wish. Capes are hazardous to your health, Maddragon. No capes.”

His silhouette glows in the starlight. “Besides, you don’t need a cape to be a Superhero.”

A drip falls from a leaf overhead. It soaks into my skin, and I welcome the relief, more of the calm after the storm.

“The Torrent,” I say. “That’s what I want to be called.”

“Not Hot Water?” Fox laughs. “It suits you. The Torrent,” he says, trying it aloud.

The stars glisten in his eyes, and it’s funny that light coming at us from billions of light-years ago can illuminate so much right here, right now.

“The Torrent,” I whisper.

And I wonder if the stars know of the magic that can happen below.