Heroes 'Til Curfew (Talent Chronicles #2) (5 page)

As soon as they moved him, I let some more
stuff fall where he had lain, just for effect. Everyone seemed
properly motivated to get the hell out.

Dylan heaved a sigh of relief that went
right down my neck and brought down some more of the ceiling.
Whatever that big piece of machinery was, it was coming down
soon.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, releasing
me, but still being careful to stay between me and the door. “Out
the window?”

“Yeah.”

He took my hand and I trusted him to lead me
to a large window that had lost all its glass a long time ago,
while I kept my eyes glued to the same spot. They burned, and my
vision had gone a little blurry. Dylan grabbed my waist and hoisted
me up on the wide, concrete sill, which made my eyes fly to his
face, even though there was nothing there to see. I couldn’t help
it.

A huge conglomeration of metal parts crashed
down onto the cement floor, little chunks of rock and small machine
parts flying in all directions, as Dylan hoisted himself up onto
the ledge.

“Oops,” he said.

“Sorry. A little warning next time you’re
going to pick me up.”

“Sorry. Let’s get out of here.” He looked
down at what seemed to me to be about a 10-foot drop. “Ladies
first?”

Where we were perched was still structurally
sound, so I said, “Sure,” and leapt from the window. I heard the
horrendous noise of the cave-in behind me as I refocused on making
myself a cushion of air to break my fall. I felt the slight
resistance of my cushion taking the brunt of the landing before it
popped like a water balloon. I hit the ground, feet, knees,
hands.

I rolled over in time to see
Dylan…rematerialize? He jumped down and I cushioned his landing
too, which seemed a little more graceful than mine.

Smart of him to know I’d have to see him to
do that.

That was all I had time to think because he
grabbed my hand and we were running through the woods that had
grown up around the abandoned factory district. Then we were out
and onto the street, only to be forced back into brush by the sight
of a patrol car. We doubled back and came out on a different
street, and there, too, a cop car was rolling down the hill. It
seemed like they were out in force, combing the area for any sign
of renegade Talents. Dylan pulled me back into the woods, and we
continued to run parallel to the river until we emerged in a more
upscale section of the riverfront area.

It seemed to me that Dylan had way too much
energy. He was still holding my hand, and although I was exhausted
and my head was pounding, I’d be damned if he was going to have to
pull me along, even if I did have to take more steps to keep up
with his long legs. He dropped my hand and scaled a 6-foot
chain-link fence, vaulting over the top and down to the pavement
below without breaking stride. He turned back to me
expectantly.

You have got to be kidding me.

“Joss, come on! Need a boost?” He came back
to the fence like he was actually going to climb back over.

Oh, hell no.
I had my pride, after
all. “No, I don’t need a boost. I’m coming.” I stuck the toe of my
boot in the fence and started to climb. I turned at the top and
climbed down the other side because it just seemed easier on my
head than taking the impact of jumping over. Dylan grabbed my hand
as soon as my foot touched the ground and started pulling me along
again.

“It’s too open here,” he told me.

It was. We were standing on a basketball
court, surrounded by other basketball courts. I was supposed to
notice these things, but my brain was pretty much fried.

“Not much farther, and then we’ll rest,
okay?”

Yeah, rest, great.

Next thing I knew, we were in one of those
sprawling, wooden play structures, and Dylan was guiding me up a
narrow, circular stairway into a tower room worthy of fairy tale
play. I sank to the floor and he sat down facing me, so he could
see out where the tower opened out onto a bridge. It was the only
spot that could afford anyone a view of us.

“So, is this where—”
you bring all your
dates? Bad, bad brain.
“—rre I get to rest?”

He pulled his gaze back from the outside
world to my face. “Yeah, take a break. You okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Your head hurts.” He reached out to me,
taking my face in his hands and massaging my temples with his
thumbs. It felt amazing.

“Like brain surgery with a butter knife. You
okay?”

“Sure. I didn’t have much to do but stand
around.”

“Just fought off Corey, jumped out a window,
ran from the cops for a few miles…”

“See? No big deal.” He grinned that grin at
me that made my gut do a somersault.

“And then there was that part where you were
invisible.”

Dylan’s hands dropped from my face, and I
could have cheerfully bitten off my own tongue.

“I was? Are you sure?” he asked, trying to
laugh it off.

But as long as it was out there, we were
going to talk about it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a
Talent?”

“I don’t know. It just…never came up.”

“Never came up? How hard is it to find the
time to say, ‘Hey, you know how Kat induces hysterical blindness,
Eric starts motors, Marco has super-strength? Well check this one
out.’ And then
Poof!
you disappear.”

“Please don’t refer to me and say ‘poof.’ It
messes with my ultra-masculine identity and ego and shit.”

“Oh for—Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t
see what the big deal was that you were keeping this a secret for
the last month.”

“You keep your Talent a secret.”

“Not from you.”

“It’s not like you
told
me.”

“You found out before I could tell you.”

“You never would have told me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What are we fighting about again?”

“We are not fighting.”

“Yes we are.”

“No, we’re not.”

Dylan burst out laughing. He tried to keep
it quiet, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. I had to laugh too,
a little, just because he was. But he was out of control, falling
over on the floor with it. I couldn’t imagine what struck him as so
damned funny.

It took him a while to wind down and then he
lay on his side across the floor from me, propped on one elbow,
legs sticking out onto the bridge.

“Sorry about that. Just sort of lost it. I
guess I’m just relieved.”

I couldn’t imagine why telling me about his
Talent was such a big trauma for him. “Better now?”

“Yeah.” He was tracing a knot on the floor
with his finger, and his head was tilted down so that his shaggy,
sandy hair hid his face. “Heather called me and said you were with
Marco, that you were in trouble. Scared the piss out of me.”

That’s how messed up I was. I had forgotten
to ask how he’d found me. “How did Heather know?”

“You guys walked right by her house. And you
think pretty loud.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said dryly. That was
Heather’s favorite excuse for knowing my personal stuff. It’s
always my fault.

He shook his head, and I really wanted to
get my hands on that hair.
In
that hair. “It figures that
the first night I’m not watching is when Marco decides to mess with
you.”

“He didn’t exactly—Wait, what? Oh my God,
are you my stalker?”

“Oh, not you too. I wasn’t stalking you, I
was just…following you home. You know, just to make sure he didn’t
try anything. Can’t a guy see a girl home anymore? Damn.”

“I don’t think that’s the exact definition
of ‘see a girl home,’ but whatever. And who else knows about
this?”

“Kat and Eric have been giving me an
especially hard time. I try to get off work a little early and then
Eric drives me over to your dad’s place before you leave. Except
tonight I got held up.”

“And I left early. To throw off the
stalker
.”
Why didn’t you just talk to me?
I knew
Dylan tended to avoid some stuff, but clearly he was embracing
not-dealing as a lifestyle choice.

Or am I just that scary and difficult? Maybe
he just doesn’t want to deal with me.

Is that why he kissed me five weeks (and two
days) ago, and hasn’t said or done anything about it since?

Marco’s words were kicking around in my
head.
“And has Dylan made any kind of a move at all? Trust me,
that’s not a problem for my boy Dylan.”

Maybe it wasn’t a good kiss. Maybe he
decided he doesn’t
like
me, like me.

But then, why all the trouble to look out
for me? Why come after me when he knew Marco had me? I mean, yeah,
Dylan’s the kind of guy who would just do that if he thought a girl
was in trouble, but he just seemed really relieved that I was
okay.

Or maybe he meant that Marco scared the piss
out of him, and he was relieved that we got away.

Maybe he never was interested in me like
that. Maybe the kiss thing was just some kind of post-brawling
testosterone release thing. Maybe he’s like those other Talents
Heather said were looking for a leader or some shit, and that’s why
he’s been hanging around me. He did kind of let Marco lead him
around, and now I know he
is
a Talent…

Damn, this sucks
.

“Joss,” Dylan snapped his fingers in front
of my face, “you still with me?”

“What? Yeah, no, sorry. I spaced a little.
Headache.”

“So…you forgive me or what?”

“For what?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “For the,
quote-unquote, stalking thing. And, while you’re feeling generous,
for not telling you I was a Talent too.”

“Oh. No. I mean, not necessary. I’m not mad.
It’s nice that you wanted to follow me home. I appreciate it. You
could walk
with
me…if you want.”

Oh my God, what if he didn’t tell me he was
“seeing me home” because he didn’t want me to get the wrong idea
about us? I am such an idiot.

“Sure.”

“We could meet up outside the store, so as
not to agitate my dad.”
Why do words keep coming out of my
mouth?

“Good idea. Speaking of your dad, it’s late.
You should call him now. He’ll be worried when you didn’t make it
home on time. Tell him to come pick you up.”

More total not thinking on my part. I was so
out of it. I probably couldn’t hang out with Dylan and chew gum at
the same time.

“What about you? Won’t your mom be
worried?”

“Nah, she—she’s working nights.”

“Oh. We’ll give you a ride then.”

“Um…no thanks.”

“Dylan, I have a huge headache and the only
thing that will really help is sleep. Don’t make me stay up all
night wondering if you got home okay.”

“Emotional blackmail. Well played,
Marshall,” he grinned at me. “Make your call.”

It didn’t seem to matter how much “evidence”
I could pile up in my head to show that Dylan was only interested
in me as a friend, I just didn’t want it to be true. Yeah, I was
concerned for his safety getting home, but I was also going to
subject him to my dad because I wanted to spend just a little more
time with him. I wanted to sit next to him in the backseat of the
car. I wanted to see how close to me he would choose to sit, or if
he’d find an excuse to touch me.

Seriously, could I possibly be any
lamer?

* * *

Joss

“Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Mr.
Marshall,” Dylan said, opening the door and swinging his legs out
onto the walk.

Dad just grunted. I twisted around in my
seat because, yeah, turns out I could be lamer. At the last minute
I’d totally chickened out and gotten into the front with my
dad.

Dylan looked at me like maybe he wanted to
say something, but then just smiled, lightly touched my fingers
where they rested on the back of my seat, and said, “See you in
school.”

“See you tomorrow,” I answered, almost too
softly to be heard.

Dad pulled away from the curb before he’d
taken two steps up the walk.

“What the hell are you thinking,
Jocelyn?”

We had already told him the somewhat
sanitized version of what happened. The one that had Dylan catching
sight of us and following to help, and didn’t mention Heather’s
mind-reading ability. Dad had been silent the whole time. Now that
we were alone, I knew I was in for it. “Dad, I know, okay? I—”

“No, apparently you don’t know and it is
very far from okay. How many kids saw you use your ability
tonight?”

I had to think for a moment and actually
count, which was bad. But Angie and Curtis hadn’t actually
seen
it. Tony either. And even Marco hadn’t seen it tonight.
Obviously they
knew
, but I could leave them out, right?
“Just four.”

“Just. Four,” Dad repeated, I guess so that
I could hear my own words and ponder. “Including Dylan? Or did you
mean five?”

“Okay, five. But Dylan and Marco knew. Heck,
Dad, they all
knew
already.”

“And how did they know?”

“Because Marco would have told them.”

“So your plan then, when you stuck your nose
into what was not your concern, isn’t working out the way you
thought, is it?”

“Dad…”

“
Is it?
Your enemy isn’t keeping your
secret the way you’re keeping his. That whole hare-brained scheme
to help Kat was a
gross
tactical error, young lady.”

I opened my mouth and shut it again. Took a
deep breath. The “young lady” bit was bait and I didn’t need to
rise to it. I mean, what about me resembles a young lady? Dad was
upset. Okay, that was expected. And okay, I’d messed up and was
going to have to take some crap for that. But I needed to stay cool
and calm if I was going to get anywhere with him. Like the way Mom
does. Because if we both went off on each other, he was just going
to run right over me.