I own only Glory, Whistler and Meta. Sky High is property of its respective owners.
14
Lash –
I can't believe Speed ratted me out. Glory fucking Boomer was covering for me, but my own best friend had rolled over and given up my name. Why hadn't he mentioned Whistler, too? Probably for the same reason I wouldn't. Who would believe him?
Lots of unbelievable going around.
Glory was looking at me like she didn't know what to think and I couldn't help but feel nervous. What the hell was she looking at me like that for? She knew I didn't do anything wrong…at least, she knew I didn't kill someone. Was she rethinking her decision to help me? She just heard what happened from the clock. She'd just had to hear about that woman's death. Maybe she had just realized I wasn't worth all this trouble… Her expression clearly said that I was fucked.
"I didn't do it," I said finally, and Glory let out a breath, looking relieved.
She really is quite the actress.
Glory opened the bag with the clock again. "What time, tick-tock?" she demanded. She listened and rolled her eyes. "You're guy's a liar. The clock says the perp went in at quarter after one. Lash has been here since before midnight."
I stared at her. She was really covering for me.
Holy crap.
The other cop, Bowman, took a step forward, fingering the special cuffs that hung on his belt. The cuffs that neutralized super powers. "Are you sure you aren't just trying to protect your boyfriend, Glory?"
Glory and Boomer both snarled and I suddenly felt very bad for Bowman. "You calling my kid a liar?" Boomer jabbed his finger into the cop's chest.
"It's my job to ask, Boom." He turned back to us and I pulled Glory a bit closer to me. "Given the fact he nearly killed you all at last years homecoming, this sort of stunt seems right up his alley." Glory looked annoyed. She shifted on the couch and I caught the scent of that spice again…cinnamon. That was it. Glory smelled like cinnamon. Bowman turned his attention to me. "Is there anyone that can verify what time you got here, kid?"
"I'm pretty sure that I just told you." Glory pointed to herself with all the attitude an eighteen year old girl can possess and Bowman rolled his eyes.
"Anyone that's not compromised?" he asked tartly. I couldn't help but growl along with Boomer that time. Even though I knew that Glory was, in fact, compromised, the cop had no reason to think that she would be lying to him. My mere presence was bringing her down.
For some reason that thought made me feel like shit.
"Meta," Glory said through clenched teeth. "He's upstairs on the table."
The cops must have already met the rock because they rolled their eyes. Bowman went upstairs and came back tossing Meta into the air and catching it. The black rock jabbered angrily, talking about police brutality. "Alright, chill out," Bowman said. "What time did Lash sneak into the house tonight?"
Way to make me sound like a creep, dude.
Meta made a sound like he was thinking. "Just before midnight I think. He didn't announce the time when he came in. Though they were hardly quiet, were they?" The rock pitched his voice up, mocking Glory's voice. "Oh, Lash, I love you!" The rock drew out the word love, making the statement all the more girly and ridiculous.
"Meta!" Glory turned bright red and lunged forward, but I caught her. Hilarious. The rock was an even better actor than she was. Meta started making kissing sounds and both cops chuckled, mistaking Glory's fury for embarrassment.
I felt her shaking like a leaf next to me. "It's alright, sidekick. We couldn't keep it a secret forever." She blushed even brighter. I had a feeling she would make me pay for that later, but it was so worth it. Her hand was small compared to mine and I laced our fingers together, partly trying to sell our act and partly trying to comfort her. I think it worked because she sunk back against me, slowly relaxing. I don't think anyone has ever relaxed at my touch before.
Grumbling, Glory opened the other evidence bag and sucked in her breath. She dropped the bag with a startled screech and her face was suddenly buried into my chest. Son of a bitch, what the hell happened?
Bowman shot his partner an annoyed look. "You were only supposed to give her the clock, Peretti. She can't do anything with the flowers."
"Flowers?" I looked down at Glory, confused. "You're afraid of flowers?"
"It's the blood." Glory's mom patted her daughter's shoulder and retrieved the bag off the floor. Three white flowers were smeared with a bright, terrible red. "Our Glory doesn't handle blood so well."
I wasn't so worried about the blood. I was looking at the flowers. The stems were as white as the drooping bloom. They were called Indian Pipes, also known as Ghost Flowers.
God, these cops were dumb.
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