Chapter 7: Secrets and Lies
As awkward silences went, this was pretty damn awkward, Layla thought as the Langford family ate their beef stroganoff. The absence of speech seemed to amplify all other sounds; the scrape of cutlery against fine china, the steady ticking of a clock, even the chewing and swallowing of food, all struggled to fill the gaping void. Layla had given herself an extra helping of vegetables and hoped that no-one would notice that she wasn't actually consuming the strips of cow carcass on her plate.
Mr Langford had made several attempts at polite conversation with Lash's grandfather, a tall, imposing man wearing an eye patch, but finally gave up when it was clear his responses were not going to be any more articulate than monosyllabic grunts. Lash's brother, Stewart, seemed a nice enough guy before his grandfather's arrival, but was now wordlessly eating his meal. Mrs Langford was nowhere to be seen and her absence was not commented on. Were she and Mr Langford separated or divorced? Layla could only speculate.
"What I really want to know is how my favourite grandson is doing." Layla was a little startled at the sound of Lash's grandfather's deep, gravelly voice as it had been so long since anyone had spoken. It was clear that he was addressing her, which seemed rather harsh considering Stewart was also sitting at the table. But if anything, Stewart looked bored rather than hurt.
"I'm great, thanks," Layla beamed. The big grin that Lash's Grandpa gave her in return softened his severe face.
"Yeah, no felonies or court appearances recently, hey Laurence? You are doing well." Stewart smiled insincerely. His father shot him a warning look.
"So the boy got in a little trouble last year. Some high jinks at school. It happens. But then you two wouldn't know anything about that. About what it's like to be a hero." The old man shook his head sadly. "My only daughter married a stockbroker and gave birth to an accountant. If it wasn't for Laurence I wouldn't be able to look the other fellas at the retirement home in the eye. Especially not old George Stronghold. Did you know the Stronghold kid has two superpowers?"
Stewart flung his fork onto his plate, spattering sour-cream sauce onto the crisp, white tablecloth. "It's always the same old thing, isn't it Grandpa? And besides, Dad knows plenty about being a hero. Surely you're not so senile that you've forgotten he was an active member of the Delta Division until not so long ago?"
Mr Langford closed his eyes. "Stewart, please…"
"Hah! Him? A hero?" Grandpa snorted. "Don't make me laugh, boy. He was a sidekick, goddammit! And not even a half-decent one at that!"
Stewart stood up, almost knocking his chair over.
"That's where you're wrong. I know that I have always been a disappointment to you, being power-free and all, but you know what? I don't care. I've done pretty nicely with my life, thanks very much!"
"Stewart!" Mr Langford's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table.
"No, Dad, we shouldn't have to take this crap. He spoils Laurence rotten, putting these ideas into his head that he's better than everyone else, and look how he's turned out," said Stewart, throwing his napkin onto the tablecloth.
"Don't worry," he continued, his face red. "I'm leaving. But just so you know, it's not what you have but what you do with it that makes you a hero, Grandpa."
With those parting words, Stewart left the Langford house. As soon as Stewart stepped out of the dining room, Lash's grandfather continued to work on his stroganoff as if nothing had happened, pausing at irregular intervals to speak to Layla. Layla noticed that Mr Langford had stopped eating and was just pushing the food around his plate.
Ouch, thought Layla. Family quarrels were invariably awful when they involved your own family, but they were even more toe-curlingly bad when they concerned someone else's. When Lash's grandfather finally left, Layla thought Mr Langford would be relieved, but he still looked troubled. Possibly more so. She found him later in his study, sitting by a cackling log fire, a glass of brandy in his hand. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief at Layla's entrance and attempted a smile, which came out as a grimace.
"It's not easy trying to be a good father, Laurence," he said, staring at the flames. "There are schools that teach you how to be a hero, but not how to be a parent. I've only ever wanted the best for you and your brother."
Layla didn't know Mr Langford, but she could see he was a good guy and she felt so sorry for him. The cheery demeanour he had shown at breakfast that morning had completely evaporated. He seemed broken. If only there was something she could do to help him, make him feel better about himself… Inspiration struck her suddenly.
"Dad, I want to ask you something…" As Layla asked Mr Langford, she knew it was perfect. And she was right, it worked. Mr Langford's broad smile threatened to split his face in half. He probably didn't get much opportunity to smile with Lash as a son, Layla guessed.
"Of course I will, Laurence, if you want me to."
Layla smiled back at him. Ah, it always feels so good to do good!
"For God's sake, don't go back in there! Just grab the gun and get out! Grab the… Idiot! Of course he's not dead!"
Will was watching the movie through the gaps in his fingers, shouting advice to the group of backpackers that had fallen into the clutches of a murderous psychopath. Warren wanted to tell him there was no point in watching a dumb horror film if he was going to spend the whole time criticising the protagonists for following the conventions of dumb horror films, like splitting up, retreating to the attic/basement, or returning to a seemingly dead body. But he didn't want to push his luck. After the kiss, Warren fully expected Will to cancel their little movie-watching session. But he didn't. If anything, he seemed to be worried about him. Well, technically, it was Layla who Will was worried about. From the careful way Will was speaking to him, Warren suspected that he thought Layla was losing it.
After some dialogue-heavy, psycho-free scenes, Warren noticed that Will had become quiet and that his breathing had slowed. Warren gave a low laugh and shook his head when he turned to look at him. Will was slumped on the sofa, fast asleep. His hair was even more messy than usual and he was snoring gently.
Everything seemed to come easy to Will Stronghold. Even sleep. Perfect little Will Stronghold with his perfect little cereal packet family… No. It wasn't working. Try as he might, Warren couldn't revive that initial feeling of hate he felt for Will to counteract his other feelings. He knew Will and his neuroses too well by now to be under the misapprehension that having two of the most revered superheroes for parents automatically led to a perfectly happy superhero junior.
Warren wanted to believe that being in Layla's body was making him feel like this about Will, but, the truth was he had felt this building up for some time now. It was just too confusing. Before he met Will and Layla, Warren didn't really have any friends and he'd managed to convince himself he was happier that way. In Will, Warren had a best friend for the first time in his life. Someone who saw him exactly for who he was, not what he was. He couldn't imagine Will being ashamed of him. Not like some people.
R-r-r-i-i-i-n-n-n-g! R-r-r-i-i-i-n-n-n-g!
Will leapt awake with a jolt at the sound of the telephone, knocking Warren off the sofa and out of his reverie.
"Oww! Watch it, Stronghold!" Warren grumbled, rubbing his right elbow, which had struck the corner of the coffee table as he had crashed to the floor.
Will looked at him apologetically and mouthed the word 'sorry' as he picked up the phone.
"Hello? Oh, hi, Mrs Peace…"
Warren felt his insides clench. Why was his mother calling Will at this time of the night? What the hell had happened? All colour had drained from Will's face.
"Oh God…" Will's voice was quiet. "Don't worry, I'll be there right away…"
Will replaced the receiver. He looked terrified.
"It's Warren," he said in that same quiet voice. "He's at the General Hospital. He's… he's been seriously hurt."
Warren didn't know who he should be more worried about. Himself or his mother.
Lash groaned. The pain and exhaustion that was racking his body seemed to be pinning him down. The light, woollen blanket around his shoulders felt unnaturally heavy. There was a tang of disinfectant in the air, muted footsteps and voices. He could hear gusts of wind blasting against the window. When he finally forced his eyes open, he could just make out a dark figure sitting by his side.
"Mom?" he asked croakily.
A warm hand brushed the hair from his face and he caught a light, sea-breezy scent.
"Don't worry, honey, I'm here."
But that wasn't his mom's voice… Of course not… Idiot… It was Mrs Peace.
"You gave me a real scare, Warren. You were exposed to extreme freezing temperatures. The doctors said it's lucky you're a pyrokinetic or you'd be in the end stages of severe hypothermia now."
Lucky. Yeah, right. Lucky that I'm trapped inside the son of one of the most hated villains ever and almost got frozen to death because of it. Lash pulled a face as he tried to sit up, then sank back down into his pillow. Moving hurt too much.
Mrs Peace was quiet for a while, holding his hand. The strength of the wind rattling the window pane increased.
"Who did this to you?" she asked eventually, her voice low but steady. Lash said nothing, but her dark eyes seemed to be cutting into his mind.
"As if I didn't know. Who else with freeze powers would do this? It was Robert Frost, wasn't it? He and your dad go back a long way. But I cannot believe he's so bitter that he took his grudge out on you." Mrs Peace's jaw twitched.
"Nobody hurts my little boy."
She kissed him gently on the forehead and stood up.
"Nobody."
Warren struggled to keep up with Will as they ran down the labyrinthine corridors of the Special Wing of the Maxville General Hospital. The hippie really needed to work out more, he thought, clutching his side and huffing.
Will bumped into an orderly, sending him flying into a trolley of, thankfully clean, bed pans. Will helped him up, apologising profusely.
"Wh-Will," Warren panted. "S-slow down. We're not going to get there any faster if we have to keep stopping because you're running into people and knocking them out."
Will had to concede Warren's point and adjusted his pace to a brisk trot. They soon reached the ward Lash was on and saw that Mrs Peace was at the nurses' station. Will introduced her to 'his friend Layla' and Warren shook his mom's hand. Warren had been dreading the state he was going to find his mother in, but he wasn't expecting this.
"Thank you so much for coming, Will," said Mrs Peace with a grateful smile. She looked different. She was evidently deeply anxious for her son's welfare as she informed them of his condition, but there was something in her eyes. "Warren will be so glad you're here."
"I-is he going to be alright?" Will asked, biting his lip.
"Yes, he is, thank God. They're keeping him in for observation tonight, but hopefully he can go home tomorrow."
Will and Warren simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.
"I need to go somewhere for a couple of hours, Will. Can you promise me that you'll look after Warren for me till I get back?"
"Of course, Mrs Peace."
"Thank you, you're a good kid, Will. I won't be long. He's in sideroom 6A."
Warren heard Will gasp as they entered the sideroom. Whatever Lash had done, Warren's body looked dreadful. He was hooked up to an intravenous drip and was almost as white as the hospital bedsheets. Will almost fell into the chair at Lash's bedside and clasped his arm, drawing it away quickly when he saw how Lash winced.
"God, Warren, how did this happen? Your mom said something about hypothermia?"
Lash winced again as he sat himself up.
"Well, me and Bianca were… heh… enjoying each other's company, and the Ice Queen got a little… over-excited." Lash gave Warren a nasty grin. Warren could feel a peculiar sensation at his finger-tips, almost like pins and needles. It was the same feeling he experienced when he whacked Lash with the branch earlier.
"What can I say?" Lash continued. "I drive the chick wild. You know how it is with girls like her." He looked pointedly at 'Layla' and sniggered. "Or maybe not. Although I'm sure Gwen Grayson knew how to show a guy a good time."
A blush suffused Will's cheeks. Warren had heard enough. He really wanted to burn something. Anything. There was an indescribable sense of satisfaction in flaming something in a fit of rage. But no. He was stuck in the body of a girl whose power was making flowers look pretty. He got up and walked out. Will watched him, his mouth setting into a tight line.
"Warren, I can put up with a lot from you, but I will not have you talk to Layla like that."
Lash shrugged. "Well, its true, isn't it? I mean, isn't that why you dumped the flower child? 'Cause she wasn't doing it for you?"
The plastic armrests of Will's chair buckled and cracked under his hands.
"Shut up! You don't know the first thing about it!"
Just speaking was causing Lash pain at the moment, but this was definitely worth it. He twisted Warren's mouth into a mocking smile. "Oh, I think I do, Stronghold."
Will could hear him laughing as he slammed the door shut on his way out. Will eyed the wilting rubber plant Warren was standing next to in the corridor and shook his head.
"Man, Warren can be such an asshole sometimes. I really don't know why I bother."
Will misinterpreted the worried look on his ex-girlfriend's face.
"It's one thing when Warren has a dig at me, but when it's you…"
Way to go, Lash, you dickhead, Warren thought. Now Stronghold is pissed with me for hurting his precious Layla. He had to salvage the situation somehow. He didn't like the thought of Will thinking he was a complete jerk.
"He didn't mean it, Will. He's just had a nasty shock. This is his way of handling it, by hitting out."
"Yeah?" said Will, still bristling. "Well, I'm sick of it."
"Look, Warren… isn't very good with all the emotional stuff. You know that. Sometimes it's easier to be mean because nobody wants to know you and you can't get hurt. No-one has any expectations of you." Warren took a deep breath. "He may not say it, Will, but… Warren thinks a lot of you." Warren could feel heat rise to his face. "He… really values your friendship."
God, could I sound any more gay? he wondered. There was no way he would have been able to say that as himself. Speaking in third person had its advantages, even if it did feel like he was becoming more and more deranged.
"Really?" Will's tone was doubtful, but there was a small smile emerging on his lips.
"Really."
Will looked thoughtful. "Well, it'd be nice to hear him say that himself."
Warren laughed. "Dream on, Stronghold! M- Warren Peace go all Oprah on your ass? I don't think so!"
Warren had to get out of there. He told Will that he was going home, knowing that Will would stay at the hospital until Warren's mother returned. He'd made a promise, and when a Stronghold made a promise…
Will instructed him to get a taxi and Warren said that he would to stop Will nagging him. For a sixteen year old hero-in-training, Stronghold sure did a good impression of an old woman sometimes. Warren had no intention of getting a cab. He liked to feel the cool night air on his face. It helped him think.
His mother that hard look of grim determination. He hadn't seen her look like that since… Well, for a long time. She looked angry. Really angry. He hoped that she wasn't going to do anything to Bianca. For all her faults, Warren knew there was no way Bianca would have intentionally harmed him.
Warren wandered through the alleys of downtown Maxville in the inky darkness. It was a regular route of his. He'd often walk through the backstreets of the city after a late shift at the Paper Lantern, lost in his thoughts. Sometimes he'd walk for hours, until dawn glimmered on the horizon. He internally debated whether to go to Bianca's house to make sure his mom hadn't done anything rash.
He was so engrossed that he didn't see the two figures blocking his path until it was too late. A large man in a stained denim jacket and a shorter one with a shaved head stood in his way.
"Little late for a nice girl like you to be out, ain't it?" the one in the denim jacket asked, punctuating his question with a loud belch. Warren could smell the stale stench of beer on his breath.
The one with the shaved head snorted. "Heh, maybe that's because she's not a nice girl."
Warren belatedly realised that walking through the less pleasant parts of Maxville at the dead of night as a six foot tall pyro was one thing. Doing it as a pretty teenage girl was another thing entirely.
"Just fuck off, OK?" he said in what would have been a menacing voice. Had he been using his voice. In Layla's voice it sounded anything but.
"Oh, this one's got a smart mouth," Shaved Head sneered.
"Yeah, I can't stand girls that back talk." A flash of silver winked in Denim Jacket's hand.
Along with a rush of adrenalin, Warren could sense the pulsating life-force of every blade of grass, every flower and bud in the vicinity. Must be part of the flight or fight mechanism of an earth elemental, he thought. Shame there wasn't any plant life around that could feasibly help him in this situation.
Denim Jacket pushed Warren roughly against a wall. He could feel the cold touch of metal against his throat.
Oh, shit.
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A/N
Cliffies, don't you just hate them?
Thanks again for your reviews. More always welcome…
AzulTigress