The Cloak Society (12 page)

“I'll take over with him,” Alex yelled to Mallory. She nodded, radiating so much heat that rain was turning to steam before it ever hit her shoulders.

Alex turned his attention toward Titan. Mallory had clearly gotten some good shots in. Frost had collected on one of his shoulders. His right thigh and most of his left side were burned, exposing the layer of metal underneath his outer coating of skin. He looked like some sort of android charging at Alex.

“Stop him,” Alex muttered to himself, regretting the switch of opponents. “You can do it.”

He tried creating a series of force fields in front of Titan, expecting them to stop him in his tracks, but the speeding juggernaut smashed through them as if they were made of paper. Frantic, Alex poured all his telekinetic energy into a single miniature bubble and sent it soaring toward Titan's chest. At the same time, Titan leaped into the air, flying almost horizontally at Alex: a six-foot blond bullet.

Alex's aim was true, though; the bubble caught Titan's shoulder, slowing him down. The metal boy landed on one knee a yard in front of Alex, and was on his feet in a split second, smirking.

“We know you're off the team,” Titan snarled. “You're pathetic. You always have been. And when this is all over with, you'll be nothing more than the servant to my High Council.”

Before Alex could reply, Titan rushed forward and head-butted him, sending him straight to the ground, his head fuzzy and ringing. And with that Titan was off, sprinting toward Alex and Mallory's umbrella. Alex rolled over onto his stomach, watching Titan run. He glanced around the field: Mal and Julie sparred, Misty disappeared and reappeared every few seconds, and on the sidelines, his father's expression was stern. But it was his mother's face that got to him. She looked sad. Disappointed. And he knew exactly what he needed to do in order to make her proud.

He returned his gaze to Titan, who was closing in on his prize. Alex clenched his teeth, glaring at his opponent, and allowed his emotions to take control. Rage was fueling him now. In a single motion, he pulled Titan back, hoping to just slow him down. Instead Titan was flung backward at an impossible speed, sailing through the air. His heavy body flew over Alex and landed in the middle of the field, skidding several yards in the mud, creating a long divot in the earth.

Alex was determined not to let Titan get back on his feet again. He rushed to the metal boy's side, lording over his opponent. Still focusing on Titan's body, he pushed down on it with his mind. Titan shook his head, trying to figure out what was happening as Alex pressed him down farther into the earth.

Everything else in the world seemed to have stopped moving. Alex took all the feelings of anger and shame and poured them into his powers. He could see Titan's eyes bulging, his breath labored. And it felt so good to see Titan squirming under his power.

Alex allowed his gaze to drift to the sidelines, where an odd thing was happening. Barrage was trying to make his way onto the field—but Shade had her hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Her eyes flashed, and the man stopped trying to struggle. On her face was a smile so pure that Alex could hardly believe it. His lips curled back, and he grinned to himself as he stared at Titan, who had by now sunk several more inches into the ground.

“Your eyes . . . ,” Mallory said. She and Julie had come up to his side and were staring at him in bewilderment.

Alex looked back down at Titan and saw his own reflection in the metal showing through Titan's stomach. His eyes were blazing, energy crackling and shooting from them, like they were balls of lightning. The stronger his powers were getting, the wilder they became—and the more others were noticing them.

“Alex?” A soft, frightened voice came from his right.

It was Misty. Her face was scrunched in fear as she stared at him. She took a step back as he met her eyes, and then disappeared, turning into a colorful haze of dust and floating with exceptional speed away from the field. Five silver balls were left behind, falling to the earth with thick plunks.

Alex realized what he must have looked like. A mighty being, yes. But malicious. Without mercy. He was doing exactly what his mother had talked about earlier. He was proving that he was the most powerful weapon of Cloak. A force to be feared.

He released Titan, who immediately sat up, gasping for air. Julie rushed to his side. Titan tried to stand but fell back into the imprint of his body in the earth. He stared up at Alex, equal parts rage and terror in his eyes.

“Perhaps that's enough for today,” Shade said, stepping her way onto the field. She held four cylinders under her arm and was passing them out before anyone could react to Alex's display of power.

“These are blueprints of Justice Tower based on the best information we were able to gather,” she continued. “Study them. Memorize them. Know everything about them.”

After leaning down to hand a cylinder to Titan, Shade stood before Alex and held the final one out to him.

Welcome back to the team,
she whispered into his head before turning and walking away. The High Council followed her off the field, leaving Alex alone with his teammates in the pouring rain.

Titan stood up, wobbling at first. He shook off Julie's attempt to help as he trudged back toward their home. His sister followed him.

“I guess that means we won,” Mallory said tentatively.

“Yeah,” Alex replied, his voice shaky. “I guess we did.”

Shade had been right that morning: He was getting stronger. But at the same time, Alex had the distinct feeling that he was beginning to lose control.

12
Fallen Rangers

Alex threw himself into studying the blueprints for Justice Tower alongside his teammates, memorizing the layout. The structure was located on the edge of Sterling City's museum and cultural district, a few miles north of Victory Park. It was only fifteen stories high—a far cry from the skyscrapers dotting the southern end of Victory Park—but it rose above the other buildings in the area. It was cylindrical, all light-colored limestone and mirrored glass that reflected the Texas sun. The twelfth story was a single room with a 360-degree view of Sterling City, the walls made up entirely of tempered glass and support beams, where the Rangers could look out over the city. But the iconic part of the structure was the opaque glass dome that capped off the building. At night, it burned brilliantly, as Alex had seen that weekend: a beacon illuminating the skyline, reminding the citizens of Sterling City that they were not alone.

The plans helped Alex make peace with Misty. It had taken an intricately folded bouquet of paper roses to persuade her to even open the door for him after his display of power, but eventually she let him inside her room, where they spread the plans out on the floor and looked them over together. She was quiet at first, but eventually eased back into her usual self, and soon she was jabbering at length about the new capes and sashes for Cloak uniforms that she'd designed. It wasn't until he was leaving that she brought up anything about his fight with Titan.

“Alex,” she said softly. “Promise me that you won't ever change. That you'll always be you.”

He smiled.

“I promise,” he said, though he wasn't sure what she meant. Who else would he be?

Since Sunday's training, Titan's only direct communication with Alex had been in steely glares from across the room. Titan had spent the days after his defeat walking around the compound sulking, until Barrage finally took his son out into the country to smash through one of the abandoned shacks that dotted the Texas countryside. The two of them blew off steam in this way, and Titan seemed to be in somewhat better spirits once they returned, the knuckles on his hands shining silver from the exercise in destruction.

At the beginning of the week, Alex had decided that there was no reason for him to sneak out and travel to Victory Park again. After all, he was back on the strike team, and that had been his motivation in the first place. But as the days progressed, his conversation with Kirbie kept running through his mind, no matter how often he tried to push it out of his thoughts. She had spoken as if he had a choice in whether or not his future belonged to the Cloak Society, but she was a Ranger—she didn't know what she was talking about. Soon he'd be facing her in battle, though Alex's stomach knotted when he replaced the image of Titan sinking into the earth with that of Kirbie.

As the week wore on, he wanted more and more to talk to Kirbie one last time. He found himself wondering where she was in Justice Tower as he became familiar with its design. He'd liked how light and clearheaded talking with her had made him feel—how nice it was to speak to another superpowered person his age who had experienced the world in ways he hadn't. And he wanted to know if he would be able to see her in full color once again. Besides, though he wouldn't admit it to himself, there was something thrilling about sneaking out and gaining knowledge that someone like Titan wouldn't have.

So after dinner on Saturday night, while the other Betas gathered in the common room to watch a movie, Alex excused himself, claiming to be tired. He went back into his room and began to prepare for another trip through the Gloom. He remembered how hard it had been to navigate Victory Park in the dark the week before and searched around for his map of Sterling City so he could review the layout and paths. Unable to find it, he sighed.

Luckily, Alex knew the Tutor was sure to have something he could use. He could stop in and borrow a map under the guise of research.

Alex walked lightly down the hallway and knocked on the metal door of the library. Immediately after knocking, he could hear the Tutor rummaging about inside, speaking loudly.

“I'll warn you now that I won't be foolish enough to accept your Queen's Gambit again tonight,” he said as the door slid open. Upon seeing Alex, he stopped short. “Oh, Alexander. Good evening. I'm afraid I thought you were Gage. I'm expecting him for chess. Have you come by for a game, by chance?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. I was wondering if I might be able to borrow some materials from you.”

“Of course, of course,” the Tutor said, standing aside and motioning for his student to enter. “How delightful. I was just preparing tea. May I offer you some Earl Grey?”

“No. Thank you, though.”

It was odd to hear the Tutor speak to him in such a casual way. He was always so dull and severe in tutoring sessions. It had never occurred to Alex that there might be something more to the man behind the stodgy beard and thick rectangular glasses.

“Straight to business, then,” the Tutor said. “What are you looking into? You seemed to be quite taken by the lessons of Aristotle we covered this week. I've just finished reading a brilliant analysis of his theories on causality that you might be interested in seeing. . . .”

Before Alex could respond, the man was already scooting papers around his desk, looking for the book.

“Actually, I'm looking for something more . . . geographical. I was wondering if you had any maps of Victory Park laying around that I might look at. With everything going on . . .”

The Tutor looked up at Alex with such a stern expression that the boy forgot completely where he had intended his sentence to go. A moment of silence passed between them.

“Lying,” the man finally said.

Alex was sure that he had gone white.

“What? No, I'm—”

“The maps would be
lying
around, young Knight. It's an intransitive verb.”

“Oh,” Alex exhaled with a sigh. “Yes, of course.”

“I wondered how long it would be before one of you came wanting to know more about Victory Park,” the Tutor said, speaking solemnly. “Your generation is far less concerned with its own history than your parents'. Why, your mother read every scrap of paper, every hastily jotted note about the Society's history that she could get her hands on. It is no surprise to me that her son is the one who has taken an interest in that battle, what with your family being so central to it.”

“Yes, my mother has told me many times that it was my grandfather who led the charge against the Rangers.”

“He was a brilliant man. It was a tragedy that we lost him that day, especially since he had been so against the battle in the beginning.”

“He was?” Alex asked.

“Oh, yes. He and some of the other elders of the High Council at the time did not completely agree with the direction that the younger members were taking the Society. They felt there was no need to make such a public gesture or seek to dominate the Rangers of Justice. They were quite happy with the way things were. When they discovered that your mother and the others had commissioned the Umbra Gun, the council was furious. I suppose that old men and women like me are somewhat resistant to change, though.”

“What was it that changed their minds?” Alex asked.

“I can't say for sure. In the end, your mother always did have a way of getting people on her side,” the Tutor said. He shook his head. “Now, I have a file on the Victory Park incident here somewhere. If you'll excuse me for a moment.”

“Uh, thank you,” Alex said. He had only wanted a map—a current map, not one a decade old—but perhaps an entire file on the park would be useful. And he had to admit that his interest was piqued.

Alex walked around the room, letting his fingers graze the spines of the books stacked everywhere. He moved around the side of the man's desk, which was completely covered in notes and reading materials (though unlike Gage's workshop, everything here was set up in an organized fashion), and picked up a tall bronze eagle that the Tutor was using as a paperweight.

“That's a finial,” the Tutor said, returning. “French. Two hundred years old. It once topped a Napoleonic flag. It was a gift from your mother. I believe she picked it up the same time she procured the Rembrandt in Gage's workshop.”

Alex turned. The Tutor was holding a black leather box with the words
STERLING CITY PARK INCIDENT
written on a card stuck to one side. The man carefully set the box down on his desk in front of Alex.

“Ah, sir,” Alex said, “that says ‘Sterling City Park' on it.”

“Well, of course,” the man said. “The park was renamed after the battle. It was almost ‘Memorial Park,' but the city went with something more positive in the end. Take it. You'll find maps in there, along with newspaper clippings and a few of my own notes, recorded for posterity. I beg you, please use the utmost care when handling these materials.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alex said, turning to leave.

“No, thank you, young Knight,” the old man said. “It does my heart good to see you take initiative.”

Alex excused himself from the library, thanking the Tutor once again for his help, and hurried to his room. He rustled through the box, found a map, and studied it for a while, refamiliarizing himself with the paths. Just after ten o'clock, he changed into his formal training gear—ready to blend into the night—and pocketed the Blackout Bomb he had left over from his previous trip to the park. He put his ear to the door and, hearing no footsteps, set out.

 

Alex was able to get to Centennial Fountain with little trouble, jogging at a slow pace, fighting his instinct to sprint the entire way there. Finally he was at the clearing, where he half expected Kirbie to be standing. A few birds lounged about on the fountain's edges, but they were all pigeons—no oversized golden falcons in sight.

Alex sat in front of the fountain, waiting, but quickly grew anxious. The longer he waited for Kirbie, the more time he was away from the base. He began to panic, wondering if he'd left too early in the evening, or if one of the Betas had noticed that he wasn't in his room. After fifteen minutes he took the Blackout Bomb from his pocket and held it out, studying it. He had to do something to get Kirbie's attention. If she hadn't figured out he was in the park already, surely she'd notice if the light of Centennial Fountain went out. A click, and the glowing light of the Gordian knot was gone, along with the sound of water cascading out of the bronze sculpture. He stood still, eyes to the sky, listening for the beating of wings or the crunch of footsteps on gravel.

He was so focused on watching for Kirbie that he didn't see the creeping movement of tendrils slithering toward his legs from the shadows behind him. It wasn't until they were coiled around his ankles that he noticed them at all, and before he could react, the dark cords were winding up his legs.

“No!” he breathed before they pulled his feet out from under him, dragging him into the bushes.

The memory of Lone Star held on the ground by Phantom's shadow energy flashed in his mind, and he expected to be sucked into the Gloom and back to the underground base to face the punishment of the High Council. But instead he found himself hanging upside down several feet off the ground. His palm felt normal, meaning that it wasn't Phantom's power that had dragged him away from the clearing. Bending up, he grabbed at whatever was keeping him suspended in the air. Alex could just barely make out the silhouette of wide, flat leaves. He had been attacked by sentient vines.

There was a rustling in the bushes to his left, and out of the darkness walked a figure with blond hair and soft features, wearing a Junior Rangers uniform. Kyle. Thorn. Kirbie's brother.

“Oh, it's you,” Alex said gratefully, as if Kyle were an old friend.

“What are you doing here?” the boy asked, his tone accusatory.

“Nothing,” Alex assured him. “It's fine. This is just a misunderstanding.”

“I recognize you,” Kyle said, his voice hard, but threatening to tremble. “You're one of the Cloak Society.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Alex said, trying not to sound at all threatening. “I'm not here for anything bad.”

“My name is Thorn, junior member of the Rangers of Justice. It is my sworn duty to protect the citizens of Sterling City. Now, what are you doing here?”

“Look, it's not what you think,” Alex said. “Your sister—”

“Kirbie?” Kyle asked, his voice suddenly frantic. The vines tightened around Alex's ankles, causing him to wince in pain. “What have you done to her?”

“I haven't done anythi—”

“Where is she? If you've hurt her . . .”

“No! She's . . . ,” Alex started, but he wasn't sure where to go from there. He didn't want to get Kirbie in trouble.

There were footsteps, heavy and fast, somewhere behind Alex. He twisted around, swinging, but could see only blackness in the trees. Someone was headed straight for him, and Alex tried his best to focus, preparing for the worst.

Kirbie stepped forward. She stopped short upon noticing that Alex was upside down, dangling from a tree branch.