Fear Her Wrath II: Crucible of Glass

Chapter 30

I want to apologize in advance for everything that's about to happen.

My arms were covered in goosebumps as I led Gabriel back through the sliding door of the balcony and onto the dance floor. Avon was playing swing-trap—a genre of whose existence I had previously been blissfully unaware—but it could have been death metal polka for all I cared. I just wanted to dance with Gabriel—to be as near to him as possible. When you're freckly and have braces and wear long sleeves to hide your muscles—well, I don't think any guy (other than Ben) had so much as furtively checked me out in the past two months. But the way Gabriel looked at me made me feel gorgeous—like for once, I wasn't a maladjusted freak or a pariah. I liked Gabriel Langston, he liked me, and we were at a party. So, we were going to dance together.

It was rare that anything made such perfect sense.

There were a lot more people crowded into the living room than when I left. Most of them were strangers—kids from Fredericks Park High School or Chilltern Banks or Marbrose Catholic. As they pressed in around us, I felt Gabriel put his hands on my hips, and my heart went into overdrive. I wasn't exactly an expert at the kind of dancing that was going on around me, but it wasn't that hard to figure out. You just press your body against your partner and... yeah. Move. Dance. Grind (ick). Pick a word. Feel free to judge me, because I judged me. Just a few minutes ago, I'd been judging all the people around me doing the same thing. I knew deep down I was rebounding—at least, I should have known I was. Instead, my inner monologue was stuck at "He's hot, and he likes me, and he's touching me, and it feels really good."

For about ten minutes, I was lost in the bliss of dancing with my handsome stranger. Neither of us said anything. Someone finally got Avon to stop playing whatever Anaya told him, and a slower song came on that let us just sway together. Gabriel's arms were around my waist now, and his chin rested on my shoulder. I could smell his cologne, which was delicate and sophisticated and really suited him. Everything seemed perfect. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about Simon, or vigilante stuff. I was just... Maggie Hunt. Science track at Sefton Polytechnic. Fifteen years old. Falling for someone I just met.

It couldn't last. It was a fantasy—a ridiculous story I was telling myself because I wasn't thinking straight. You can't escape being yourself—especially if you're a superhero. Real life always catches up.

I saw it out of the corner of my eye—the glint of the camera lens on a smartphone. It was Gennifer. Recording me as I danced with Gabriel. The bitch. She was getting back at me for coming to her party—getting ready to show everyone at school that Maggie Hunt was already throwing herself at some new boy. I felt the anger flaring up inside me before I knew what I was doing. A high-pitched buzzing seemed to fill my ears. My teeth clenched, and my hands started to tremble. Apparently I hadn't avoided my mom after all.

She'd come along to the party uninvited.

Gabriel whispered something to me when I stopped dancing, but I didn't hear him. Shoving aside a girl I didn't know, I almost sprinted across the apartment as I lunged at Gennifer.

"Give me that!" I roared, grasping for her phone.

We tumbled to the floor, knocking the drinks and paper plates off a nearby table. Her friends—most of them my former teammates—scrambled backwards to escape the unfolding carnage. Gennifer was already pinned to the ground before she realized what was happening. I was bigger than her, and stronger. Also, I was Nightwrath. She didn't stand a chance against me.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help, she's crazy!"

"Give me your damn phone!"

I elbowed her in the face with my left arm as I tried to pry her fingers off her phone. People around us were screaming. Somebody—I think it was Amber—was asking if she should call the police. Someone else tried to pull me off of Gennifer, but I shoved them aside. Her phone was slipping from her fingers. The force of my grip competing with hers had already cracked the screen. Just a few seconds more, and...

"Margaret Rachel Hunt!"

Oh God. I knew that voice. It took me back to the locker rooms after the game against Marbrose Catholic Academy in 7th grade—the first time one of my screw-ups had ever cost us a game. My fury turned abruptly to cold sweat. My rapid breathing became long, heavy gasps. I let go of Gennifer, stood up, and looked for Anaya.

She rolled her wheelchair towards me so aggressively it made me flinch.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

I opened my mouth to explain myself, but I knew it was pointless. Now that I'd actually tackled Gennifer to the floor and given her a black eye in her own house, I realized that she might not have been filming me specifically—that maybe I felt a little guilty about what I was doing, and just assumed that she was trying to shame me for it. She was looking at me with fear—like, actual terror—as though her worst fears were confirmed and I really was the dangerous psycho she imagined. I offered her my hand to help her to her feet, but she just stared at me. Amber and Gabriela shuffled forward and almost dragged her out of my reach. Anaya was still glowering at me.

"You feel like explaining yourself, Hunt?"

Anaya didn't really want to hear my side of the story, and I didn't blame her.

"N-no," I said, looking down at my shoes to escape Anaya's hard stare. "Sorry, I... I'm leaving. Sorry."

People gave me a lot of room as I collected my backpack and put on my jacket. Nobody said anything. I couldn't even look at Gabriel. Most people never saw the worst side of me—the side that reminded me of my mom—and he'd just gotten an angry meltdown on a first date. That relationship was dead on arrival. It was bad enough that I'd embarrassed myself.

But I knew I'd ruined his night too.

The Fredericks Park station for the elevated line was just two blocks away, and I sprinted to catch the 7:57 train to Brand Hill. I didn't want to think about what'd just happened. When it got back to my dad that I'd beaten up Gennifer—over a stupid video, no less—I was grounded for sure. And that was assuming Gen's parents didn't call the school and get me in even more trouble. I needed to clear my head. More accurately, I needed to inflict physical harm on people who deserved it.

Luckily, I'd brought my mask and staff with me.

"Ellie," I said, cupping my phone to my ear as the train roared above the Marbrose River. "You busy?"

"Uh, nah," said Ellie. "Just codin'. I thought you were at a party."

"I left. I need some bones to crack. Get me intel on who's at the Midnight Rider tonight. I wanna find out how bulletproof this new armor really is."