Love for the Cold-Blooded (49 page)

Nick’s force fields flickered, radiating a brief buzzing sound that was every bit as grating as the screech of nails on a blackboard. “He’s your
son
?”

“Oh man,” muttered Pat.

He should have kept quiet, because now both of them turned to face him. Two near-identical stares of condemnation (one glowing crimson, one flat black) seared into Pat, almost making him reel back.

Pat kinda wanted to duck. He was pretty sure that if he wasn’t already flushed redder than a red thing, then it wouldn’t be long. “What?” Seriously, like he’d planned this? Any of this? It wasn’t Pat’s fault Nick had liked to use incomprehensible euphemisms when asking for model clones to join him in his billionaire playground. Neither was it Pat’s fault that Nick was — well,
Nick
, and so basically irresistible.

Least of all could any fault be attributed to Pat because his mom and his significant other had incompatible jobs. At least that was Pat’s position, and he was sticking to it.

And also? “I tried to tell you, numbnuts,” Pat told Nick, which was absolutely true. “You’re the one who refused to let me disclose all, remember? And you swore you wouldn’t hate me when stuff came out later, so now that stuff has come out, you better not think you get to hate me or anything. I’m, like, holding you to your promise. I even tried coming clean again and all, only you jumped out a window before I got the chance because you were scared of meeting my sisters!”

Judging by his stare, Nick was not convinced by this argument, and was once again trying to set Pat on fire with his mind. If it had ever been going to work, though, Pat would have been a human-sized charcoal briquette ages ago, so he wasn’t too worried. The guy was just stubborn, was all. (Tenacious, rather. Yeah, that was a good word — probably the the one you were supposed to use for heroes.)

As for the other party involved in this mess…

Pat widened his eyes and pouted sadly in his best imitation of a kicked puppy. It was exactly the way he’d used to pout as a kid to get an extra slice of cake. When your back was against the wall, pride had to take the back seat. “Wow, Mom, you sniffed out my place? Seriously? That is so not cool. That is so, so not — like, what, because I’m your son I don’t get the right to any sort of privacy? I have a life of my own! I’m not a kid anymore!” A good start, but he wasn’t there yet. This was one of those ‘end justifying the means’ situations, so Pat steeled himself, swallowed down shame, and forged on ruthlessly. “When I actually was a kid, you were always too busy taking over the world to pay much attention to me. But now that I’m all grown up and doing my own thing,
now
you suddenly turn up and want to dictate how I should lead my life?”

The blow struck home —he could tell by the way his mom’s hair flattened, curling in tight against her head and neck. Pat had to fight not to run to her and take everything back, but he stayed strong. It was a low blow, yeah, but there was a core of truth to the accusation… and that was what made it hurt.

“That is a low blow, Patrick.” Grudging approval crept into Serpentissima’s sibilant hiss. “Well played. It seems you are indeed growing up, my little snakeling.”

“Do excuse me,” Captain Cool drawled, sarcasm thick in his tone. He’d parked the CoolCycle nearby — Crystal Cea, raised middle fingers and all — and was now leaning against its side in a careful pose, one boot on the ground and one propped up against the gas tank. Personally, Pat thought the Cap would have been a whole lot cooler if he hadn’t always been trying so hard. “Anybody want to catch me up?”

“Shut up,” said Serpentissima, Nick, and Pat in complete unison. It was as though they’d practiced.

Which reminded Pat. He turned quickly to his Serpent Sluts, who were waiting off to one side in visible consternation. Ideally, he’d have sat them all down with snacks and a lot of alcohol to explain this mess of a situation in exhaustive detail, but given the circumstances, Pat made due with pointing at them meaningfully while waggling his eyebrows. The Sluts stared back at him with what he chose to interpret as understanding and support. All good there.

Meanwhile, Serpentissima had drawn herself up to her full height. Her massive serpent body swayed hypnotically as she spread her arms, embracing a faint, growing sphere of venomous power. In direct counterpoint, the glow of Nick’s force fields brightened steadily as he circled for position, gaining height while keeping both Serpentissima and the Sluts in sight.

Somehow, this development did not seem entirely positive.

Pat was still pondering whether intervention on his part would make things better or worse — and what form exactly said intervention should take, considering he was neither a giant supernatural serpent nor a flying hoagie wrapped in five dozen force fields — when Serpentissima loosed a Venom Bolt. It was one of the fast, mean ones that clung so tenaciously it could even eat through stasis shields. Nick tried to evade, but it swerved after him and caught the very edge of a trail of energy. A blink of an eye later, it had surged outward to wrap itself around him from head to toe, until the only thing Pat could see was a glowing venom-colored cloud in the shape of Silver Paladin.

Half a second later, the venom cloud flashed so brightly that Pat clapped his hands over his eyes.

Red and orange after-images danced in his vision as he cautiously peeked out from between his fingers. No trace of the venom cloud remained. Now, there was only Nick, as silver and force field-shrouded as ever. He was in the middle of swinging into an attack run, a bubble of energy ballooning from his hands.

Serpentissima darted forward to bat the bubble from her opponent’s grasp with a single, powerful sweep of the tail.

Neither of them attacked again immediately. Instead, they both retreated slightly, beginning to circle while sizing each other up with cold, hard stares.

This was not quite the outcome Pat had hoped for. Still, looking on the bright side, it could have been so much worse. Nobody was dead yet, and hey, a venom bolt and a containment bubble? Imagine if those attacks had been a Serpent Scourge and a Force Lance, instead.

Come to think of it, the fact that they hadn’t been was in itself a hopeful sign. It could hardly be coincidence that both Serpentissima and Silver Paladin were failing to use their most lethal weapons, choosing instead something intended to contain and restrain. Right?

“It’d feel wrong to interfere, somehow,” Cap Cool remarked, heaving a heavy sigh. “I wish people would solve their private squabbles on their own time. Not very considerate, is it?”

He didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular, but Pat was standing closest, and it was his private squabble too. Kind of. Or mostly, he guessed. Not to mention that it seemed like bad manners to let hoagies stand around unattended in the middle of what still technically, Pat was pretty sure, counted as a showdown battle.

A sneer of derision was usually a safe choice when uncertain of what to say to a hoagie, so Pat tried his best to muster one. It probably wasn’t a great success, going by the almost pitying look on Cap Cool’s face, but Pat gave himself points for effort. “Whatever,” he muttered, and then decided that he needed to be a bit more decisive. “Feel free to leave at any time if you’re bored.”

“Oh, sure. Like that’s going to happen.” Cap Cool gave Pat a flat, level stare that reminded him unpleasantly of his least favorite elementary school teacher. “Level with me, serpent spawn. You’re all having me on, aren’t you? The only alternative would be to believe that you’ve actually had sex with Silver Paladin, and there are a thousand and one things wrong with that picture. For one thing, how on earth would you have gotten the stick out of his ass?”

Pat gaped at the man in shock. Had he really just said that? Captain Cool was supposed to be Silver Paladin’s ally! Why would he say such a thing about an ally? Sure, Nick could be awkward sometimes, especially when other human beings were around. But it actually worked for him, in his very own, totally bizarre way. Besides, Nick was brilliant and thoughtful and kind. He totally knew how to have fun and cut loose if you helped him along a bit. Plus he had that way of smiling at you self-consciously, almost shyly, and — just, basically, Nick was worth five dozen posers like Captain Cool any day of the week.

Five dozen? Hah. More like ten, or twenty.

“Not to mention you hardly seem like his type.” Cap Cool’s glance swept over Pat with open derision, lingering pointedly on his tousled blond curls, his defiant scowl, his bare, oiled chest and his tight leather pants. He didn’t need to actually call Pat a brainless pretty boy with loose morals; the superior smile twisting his mouth spoke clearly enough.

Which, hello: Pat was the Slut Leader. Did Cap Cool really think that calling him a dumb slut was insulting? It would probably even have counted as a compliment if not for the dumb part, and that was so stupid Pat couldn’t take it seriously enough to be pissed off about it.

How the dude talked about Nick, on the other hand? That, Pat had no problem being pissed off about. “Look sharp, Sluts!”

The Sluts didn’t snap to attention; that would have been ridiculous, given that they weren’t soldiers, or commandos or whatever. They did the next best thing, though, all eyes immediately flying to Pat, alert and eager.

Looking sharp indeed. Pat grinned evilly as he lifted both hands next to his face, fingers shaped like guns. He pointed them right at Cap Cool’s face and pulled the triggers, making a little ‘pow’ noise for effect. “Get him, boys.”

It was beautiful. The Sluts sprang forward with no hesitation, as though they’d been waiting for the command — like a pack of bare-chested panthers slipping the leash (and was that a great image or what). Pat caught a glimpse of Tom’s face as he threw himself right on top of Cap. He looked way more pissed off than Pat felt, go figure.

Pat would always treasure the memory of the dumbfounded look Cap Cool wore as he went down under a pile of well-shaped, muscular oiled limbs. Yes indeed, numbers and surprise could totally carry the day against vastly superior fighting prowess.

By the time Pat reached the CoolCycle, it had crashed to its side under the combined weight of six irate Serpent Sluts. Cap Cool himself was no longer visible underneath his opponents, which was good, but left nothing left for Pat to do. Although, wait: Part of Cea’s frozen form was still protruding from the pile of wrestling bodies. Pat could totally rescue her, and then gloat about it forever while she glowered and scowled.

Pat grabbed his crystallized sister by the elbow and heaved her from the Cool melee. She was too heavy for him to carry, but fortunately there was always Plan B — which meant, in this case, half dragging, half rolling her over the floor, with pretty much every protruding part of her bumping over the ground. Supposedly the Hero’s Bane protected her, but there was no call for testing that, so Pat was careful, especially of her middle fingers.

He’d nearly reached the spot he’d designated ‘safety’ (namely, the yarn cocoons holding Zen and her minion troops) when something blasted him in the small of his back.

The impact lifted him clear off his feet, sending him flying. He entirely failed to tuck himself in and land properly. It all went so fast. By the time his mind began tracking again, he was lying in a dazed, bruised heap against the cavern wall.

A quick inventory showed that he’d been lucky; apart from the bruises and a long scrape down one arm, he’d escaped unscathed.

But… Cea. Where was Cea?

There. There she was, tipped over on the ground back where he’d been hit. Pat scrambled up and rushed to her so quickly he almost brained himself falling over his own feet. He skidded to a halt right beside her crystal form instead, dreading what he would find when he turned her over. But — oh, thank all the gods, Cea was still whole; still cheerfully giving the world the bird, every appendage right where it should be.

It took several seconds for the wash of white, ice-cold panic to seep through him and dissolve, leaving him feeling wrung out and oddly giddy with adrenaline.

So Pat guessed he should have paid a little more attention to what Mom and Nick were doing. Not that he had any realistic chance of intervening, but prudence dictated —

A volley of Serpent’s Teeth burst apart on the wall behind Pat, the sound like machine-gun fire. He barely managed to dive out of the way of the shrapnel. When he looked up, Nick was somersaulting crazily through the air while blasting small clusters of pursuing Teeth from the air one by one, controlled bursts of energy flaring from his outstretched palms.

Pat had known Nick was good, of course. Everyone agreed Silver Paladin was one of the premier present-day heroes; maybe the premier one, period. Sure, Star Knight was more powerful and Nexus was scarier, but the average rock could outsmart Star Knight, and when your main claim to fame was that both your enemies and your allies were convinced you were spying on them, compiling files of secrets, habits and weaknesses… well. Suffice it to say that the line between greatness and psychopathy (which wasn’t actually thin at all) had definitely been crossed there.

Silver Paladin, on the other hand. Silver Paladin was efficient and pragmatic without being a sociopath. He was smart as hell, and didn’t close his eyes to inconvenient truths; was willing to change both his mind and his approach when presented with compelling reasons. That was a rare thing, even (or especially) among people who considered themselves intelligent and open-minded.

Not to mention the man had killer abs into the bargain. And a lovely, quirky smile, and a quietly offbeat sense of humor, and even hidden kinky depths. He was the real deal, for sure; what every little hoagie aspired to be. Or ought to, anyway.

As Pat watched, Silver Paladin — Nick — twisted with impossible agility to evade a Razor Scale, and then rolled forward in mid-air like a swimmer turning underwater at the end of the pool. He began returning fire before he’d righted himself, both palms stretched towards his opponent. All through the maneuver, the bolts of power flying towards Serpentissima remained rock steady and dead on target.