Chapter 3-Nyx

Nyx would always be grateful for the pride of superheroes. That they had kept silent, all these years, about the Great Disappearance, was the only thing that kept Nyx hidden. A public manhunt would never come, not until the day a superhero or villain could admit that he had been beaten, beaten and broken. Their fear, their hate, their vengeance, all remained concealed within.

But Nyx suffered the pride of superheroes too. She wanted the world to know what she’d done, what she’d conquered, and she hated that she couldn’t tell them. She always used to joke about the movie villain who revealed his diabolical plot to the hero instead of killing him straight off, but now she understood. What’s the point of genius without an audience? That is why she had gone to Pam, she needed an audience, and a therapist was the only audience she could think of that was legally bound to keep her secrets.

But Nyx was never able to finish the story. Never able to get to the good part.

Matthew came for her first. 

She was alerted, as ever, by the sound of the bells on the door that she had a customer. She was busy though, replacing books--a little kid had come in and made a mess--so she was only able to acknowledge his arrival with a quick glance. As it turned out, that was enough to make her lose her grip on the stack of books. 

Nyx recognized him in an instant. The curly black hair and rich dark skin, the confident way he held himself, despite his shorter stature, all served to eliminate any doubt.

Matthew. Psychic. In her bookstore. For a moment, Nyx enjoyed the possibility that it could be a coincidence, though the overwhelming unlikeliness of such an event soon squashed that notion. No, the only reason Matthew would be here was if he thought--no, knew--she was here.

Nyx could only hope that this was the result of some shaky lead, not definitive evidence. That Matthew wouldn’t recognize her, or her mind, because he wasn’t looking closely enough.

She turned her back to him quickly, too quickly, and continued stacking books. She forced her features to adopt something of a neutral expression and pushed any thought that could betray her to the the back of her mind. All the fear, all the recognition, squished into nothingness. 

I am Natalie. I am Natalie.

Nyx knew, from experience, that it was impossible to fool a telepath as powerful as Psychic, if and when he was trying. But if he wasn’t trying, wasn’t digging into her thoughts but merely skimming the surface...if that was the case, then Nyx knew how to trick him.

She filled her mind only with thoughts of her work, her store, her day. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into Natalie’s mindset, a benefit of living as that particular lie for so long. She felt a tap on her shoulder.

“How can I help you?” Nyx said, smiling vacantly at the man she had turned around to greet.

“Do you work here?” His smile was equally meaningless, Nyx knew. She scanned his face, looking for some hint of recognition. Would he know the face under the makeup, the mind under the lies? No. He did not.

“Yeah. Are you looking for something specific?”

Matthew laughed a bit at that. “You could say I was. What is your name?”

A formality. At the rate Nyx had been projecting her pseudonym, there was no way the telepath could have missed it.

“I’m Natalie. Are you interested in-”

“Can I ask you some questions, Natalie?”

Nyx nodded, trying to hide the anxiety that must show on her face. Not that Matthew was paying much attention at this point. Arrogance.

“Do you own this bookstore?”

Another nod.

“It is your name on the deed, yes?”

“Sure.” She eyed him with caution, her stance shifting to the defensive. “Who are you? Why do you know that?”

Matthew’s smile was familiar. It was reassuring, it told her that everything would be alright, it was the smile that she used to love. Now it made her angry.

“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. Matthew Bryant.” He held out his hand to shake. Nyx took it, wishing in vain that she still had her powers. That she could drain him now and make her escape. Instead, she dropped his hand.

“I’m here because evidence has come to light that the money used to purchase this property was obtained by,” he paused, searching for a word, “...fraudulent means.”

They’ve found my account. It was the only explanation. They’ve found my account and they’ve traced my payments. 

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Nyx said. A lie came to her. “My partner is in charge of finances. She actually funded most of this.”

“Your partner? You’re the only name on the deed?”

“She didn’t want her name on it,” Nyx shrugged. “Not that I’m complaining.”  She knew how Matthew would interpret this: of course, the mysterious partner who funded the shop but refused to put her name on the deed would be Nyx. Of course. Each word had been chosen with precision, and Matthew bought it.

“Where is your partner now?” he said, just a little too eager.

She had him now.

~

June was worried. Matthew had insisted on going into that bookstore alone, despite protests. A reasonable idea, it had to be admitted: Matthew had been, years ago, equal parts father and brother to Nyx, and perhaps she would be less inclined to kill him on sight. If they had gone in a group, they would have seemed too aggressive. Still, it made her nervous.

Matthew had chosen a small, elite team to retrieve Nyx, only to leave them behind in this shoddy hotel room. Anxiety manifested in the little group in various ways, June observed. Slayer fidgeted, restless. Every so often, he’d stand up and pace, or else take out his knives and polish them on his shirt until they shone like mirrors. He was itching for a fight, that one, and could not abide staying behind, not while Matthew could be in danger. Matthew, who he’d follow to the ends of the earth if asked. 

Then there was Shadow. Silent, still, and perfectly composed to any viewer who could sense the waves of nervous energy radiating from her mind. Like Slayer, she feared for Matthew, but unlike Slayer, much of her anxiety stemmed instead from the dread that her intel was faulty. That Nyx wasn’t there, that this was just another dead end. As for June herself, it was all she could do to keep from telepathically checking in with Matthew every thirty seconds, but he had requested that she avoid distracting him, and the Guardians were nothing if not disciplined.

~

She’s on vacation, Nyx thought. A silent response to Matthew’s inquiry. She’s on vacation, she’s in Florida, should I tell him she’s on vacation? She’s on vacation, she’s in Florida.

There were some things, Nyx knew, that a telepath couldn’t help but overhear.

And sometimes, if they weren’t careful, they would forget to distinguish between voices and thoughts.

“Florida? Lucky her. When is she getting back, do you know? I’d like to talk to her.”

He responded as if Nyx had told him so, but she hadn’t said a word. She’d exposed him, and now she could get rid of him.

“How did you know that?” For the first time since she’d seen him, she let her voice betray her fear. “How did you know she was on vacation?”

Her change of tone, her words, all serving to bewilder the telepath. “You just said--”

“I said nothing! I thought it, but I never said it!” They stared at each other, the realization of his mistake finally dawning on Matthew. Then--

“You read my mind, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Let me apologize--”

“You’re a telepath, you’re a mutant,” she snarled with a false disgust. 

“Please, just--”

“Get out of my head! Get out of my store!” Nyx was shouting now. Let her take advantage of the widespread metahuman prejudice for once. 

“Wait--”

“I’m calling her now! Telling her a mutant was looking for her!”

Matthew’s distress was plain on his face. “No, no, please, just let me explain, please just listen!”

“Get out!” Hysterical. “GET OUT.” She was causing a scene, the other customers were turning to watch. 

Matthew found himself with two options. He could break into this woman’s mind, find the answers he sought, make her forget to call Nyx. But he also knew, the moment he thought this, that he could never do it. This woman was innocent, and thus he refused to mentally manipulate her. 

So the telepath did as he was told. He left the building, and he did not look back.

~

Nyx felt as if she would collapse from relief. Matthew was gone. Her respite was short-lived, however, as she knew that Natalie needed to disappear. Careless, careless, she’d stayed here too long, this had been too close. She had to leave, now.  

She ran upstairs, packing her few possessions into a single suitcase. She zipped it shut, moving over to her bedside table and opening the drawer. A single item lay inside. A small pistol, always loaded, never used. Nyx took it out and held it close. It would do little and less against a superhuman, but still. Just in case.