Fall of Hades (17 page)

Ostin took his winnings and bought a gold bracelet for McKenna, and still had enough left to stop in M&M's World and load up on a couple of hundred dollars of chocolate for the ride to Taiwan.

Still, Taylor stayed close to McKenna. I caught her looking at me several times. I knew she wanted to talk, but I wasn't ready. Frankly, my emotions had shifted. I was less sad than mad. I know it sounds weird, but people are wired that way. It's like when a parent loses their kid. They get all frantic and upset, afraid that something has happened to them, but after the kid finally turns up, the parent wants to beat them. I guess that's how I was feeling. Like my mom said, “Who says love is supposed to make sense?”

*  *  *

Jack told us that before the marines went to war, the guys would go to town and get tattoos—mostly ones they hoped that they would live to regret. Jack wanted to get tattoos on his arms that looked like my lightning scars, if it was okay by me, which it was, but I had to go with him so the tattoo artist could copy them.

McKenna and Taylor wanted to hang out by the pool before it got too late, so Ostin came with us. As we were leaving the hotel, we ran into Nichelle. When she found out we were going to a tattoo parlor, she wanted to come even though she already had like twenty of them. Actually, it probably was because she had twenty of them.

“I should get one that says ‘Death to Hatch,'” she said. “With a lightning bolt through a skull.”

“Maybe after he's dead,” I said. “Otherwise he might not take kindly to it.”

“You're right,” she said. “Are you going to Sin City Tattoo? It's famous. It even has its own reality TV show. I got this one there.” She lifted her shirt just above her belly button to show the words in black, Gothic letters:

Not all who wander are lost

Nichelle actually had a pretty great stomach, something you'd never notice with the loose clothes she always wore.

Jack looked up. “No, I'm taking this guy's recommendation. He had killer ink.”

“What guy?” she asked.

“One of the hotel's security guards. I ran into him in the gym. He looked like he eats nails for breakfast.”

Ostin's brows fell. “You mean he had no teeth?”

Jack just shook his head.

*  *  *

We took a taxi about four miles from the hotel to the tattoo parlor that was down a side street, then down an alley the car couldn't fit through. The place was called the Bad Banana, which I thought was a stupid name, but once I met the owner, it kind of made sense. He looked wrinkly and overly tanned like an old banana. He also looked like he hadn't bathed since Bush was president, and he had like seven teeth.

He noticed Nichelle first and commenced to hit on her.

“What do you need, babe? I've got a special for the ladies as long as it's on lady parts.”

“Save it,” she said. “We're here for the marine wannabe.”

“I want my arms to look like his,” Jack said, pointing to my arms. “Can you do that?”

The dude stared at my arms. “Those are some nasty tats. Where'd you get that ink?”

“Mexico,” I said.

“Mexico,” he repeated. “The only thing I get from Mexico is the runs.”

Nichelle slowly shook her head. “Wow, you've got class written all over you.”

“In ink,” the man replied, mistaking what she said as a compliment.

“Well?” Jack said. “Can you?”

“Yeah, I can do it.”

The guy was creepy, but I had to admit that he was pretty good at what he did. It took about two hours, but after it was done, Jack's arms looked exactly like mine, though with a lot bigger muscles.

*  *  *

The tattoo parlor was in a pretty dodgy part of town, and as we walked out of the shop, a man wearing a hoodie approached us and pulled out a gun. A revolver. It looked ancient compared to what the Elgen were carrying these days.

“Give me your money,” he said. “All of it.”

Jack just looked at him. “Man, did you ever pick the wrong guys to stick up.”

“What kind of a gun is that?” I asked.

“A .38 Special,” Ostin said. “Practically a dinosaur. Smith and Wesson started making them more than a hundred years ago. I mean, they were using those things in World War I. I wouldn't use one if I was mugging someone. I mean, pretty good chance someone like Jack is going to survive it and beat you senseless. Of course, Michael would survive anything, but with this gun, even I've got a chance.”

The mugger looked at us with a bewildered expression. “Just give me your money.”

I looked at our would-be mugger. “Okay, Mr. .38 Special. You clearly don't know much about guns. Do you know anything about electricity?”

He just blinked. “What?”

“Electricity. Did you go to school?”

“Do I look like I went to school?”

“A school for losers,” Ostin said.

“He looks like he crawled out from under a rock,” Nichelle said.

The man's face turned red. “You're dissing a man holding a gun at you, and you think I'm dumb? I'm about to blow a hole through one of you. Then we'll see how smart you are.”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Ostin said.

“That's not going to happen,” I said. “Normally I'd give you the chance to walk away, but then you'll probably just do the same thing to someone else, so you can either give me the gun or I'm going to have to take it from you.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You guys high?”

“On life,” Ostin said.

Nichelle rolled her eyes. “That was really lame, dude.”

“Just give me the gun,” I said again.

“Take it,” he said, his finger moving a little on the trigger.

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

I blasted him up against the wall of the building behind him. His gun went off from the pressure of my pulse, but the strength of my pulse stopped the bullet in midair. The man fell to the ground.

After everything had settled, Ostin reached over and picked the bullet up off the ground. “He wasn't as dumb as we thought. Hollow points. That could have done some damage.”

“Still dumb,” Nichelle said.

Jack squatted down and checked the guy's pulse. “He's still breathing.”

I picked up his gun. I held it by its barrel and focused my energy to the palm of my hand. The barrel bent like rubber. “That's not going to work again.” I tossed it back down onto the ground next to the mugger, who was still unconscious.

“You just melted it,” Jack said.

“Holy crap,” Ostin said. “That's a high alloy chromium-molybdenum steel. You melted it like ice cream. I didn't know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

“You know what that means?”

I turned and looked at him. “Yeah. It means I'm still getting more electric.”

A
fter the tattoo place we stopped for ice cream at a Cold Stone. Then I went back to my room to take a nap. About an hour later Ostin woke me as he came back into our room. I think there had been quieter entries at Walmart stores on Black Friday. I groaned out in frustration. “Really, man? I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, dude. Didn't know you were sleeping.”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“A little after eight. Almost time for dinner.”

“Where have you been?”

“Just hanging down at the pool with McKenna and Taylor.” He walked over next to me. “Are you ever going to talk to Taylor again?”

“I don't know. Ever's a long time.”

“She's really upset.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Been there.”

Ostin suddenly nodded. “Oh, I get it. It's payback. Let her stew in her own juices. Awesome.”

I glared at him. “I'm not letting her ‘stew in her own juices.' I'm not trying to hurt her.”

“Oh,” he said, looking confused. “Well, you're still doing a good job of it.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. For the first time since Taylor broke up with me, I felt like I was the mean one.

*  *  *

Ostin and I met up with everyone for dinner at Prime, an expensive steak house in the Bellagio. It had large floor-to-ceiling windows that opened to the fountains outside. Gervaso told us to not worry about the price and just go crazy with our orders, so we all did. I ordered a caviar appetizer (I didn't like it, but I've always wanted to know what the big deal was with eating raw fish eggs); the dry-aged, bone-in rib eye steak; truffle mashed potatoes; and a crème brûlée for dessert.

Ostin, Zeus, and Jack had even more than I did. I looked at the prices on the menu, and just my meal alone was more than two hundred dollars. I figured that we wouldn't be eating much for a while and if this was going to be our last real meal, it might as well be epic.

*  *  *

Taylor was quiet throughout dinner. At one point we made eye contact. As we looked into each other's eyes, I suddenly saw my friend again. And the thing is, you can't hurt a friend without hurting yourself. I wanted to take her pain away. Most of all, I finally wanted to be with her more than I wanted to punish her for hurting me. I guess that's a sign of love. Maybe it's a sign of maturity too.

After dinner Taylor got up to leave. I stopped her outside the restaurant's front door.

“Taylor.”

She stopped and turned to me. She looked anxious.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

She didn't speak but nodded her head.

“All right. Let's go.”

I didn't take her hand. At least not at first. Things were still awkward.

We walked out to the main Vegas drag. Even though it was night, we didn't have to worry about our glows, as it was practically like day, bright with the million-watt jungle of Vegas casino signs. Without speaking, we walked on the long sidewalk that ran along the outside of the Bellagio's fountains. I wasn't sure what to say.

Taylor broke the silence. “I'm so full.”

“Yeah, I ate way too much. It felt kind of good.”

“I know, right?”

Silence.

“How was the pool?” I asked. “It looked kind of crowded.”

“Good. Mostly good. There was this creepy guy in the hot tub hitting on us, so McKenna heated the water up to like a hundred and thirty degrees until he fled. It was funny watching him squirm as it got hotter. He didn't want to act like it was too hot for him, because we were just sitting there.”

“How did you stand the heat?”

“Abigail took away the pain. It was cool. I mean, I kind of got burned, but it was totally worth it.”

“You could have just rebooted him and told him to leave.”

“I don't think there was much there to reboot.”

I smiled, and she said, “I heard you had a little excitement.”

“A little,” I said. “Who told you?”

“Jack told Abi, Abi told McKenna, McKenna told me. The usual network.”

“Yeah, some dude pulled a gun on us. I melted it.”

“It's kind of amazing. A year ago that experience would have been traumatic. Now it's practically boring you. Do you think Superman gets bored beating up bad guys?”

We both leaned against the stone ledge separating the sidewalk from the fountain. “I'm not Superman.”

“No, because there's no such thing as Superman. But there is such a thing as you. Think about it. The whole world is obsessed with superheroes, and you're the real thing. How does that feel?”

“
We're
the real thing,” I said. “And it feels heavy.”

“You're right. Life is heavy.”

“Did you see Jack's tattoos?”

Taylor smiled and nodded. “I told you that your Lichtenberg things were cool. Jack wanted to look just like you.”

“I don't know why.”

“I do. You're his hero. He wants to be just like you.”

I looked at her. “Jack? Yeah, right.”

“Of course he does. He looks up to you. We all do.” Her expression turned more serious. “Especially me.”

I just looked at her.

“Michael, I'm really sorry.” She looked into my eyes. “Will you please forgive me? Please?”

I turned away from her toward the fountain. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

“I know.” She started to cry. “I don't blame you for being mad.”

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No,” she said. “I can see it.”

I took a deep breath, then turned back. “I've never been in love before. I didn't know how to handle that kind of rejection. It was painful. Like when my dad died painful.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“My heart isn't like a light I can just turn on and off.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You think mine is? You think I wasn't hurting too? I cried almost the whole time we were apart. I wasn't rejecting you. I didn't love you less. I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”