James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book Two

One

⚠️ Hi, thank you for your interest in the sequel. Please read Book One before reading Book Two. It has spoilers.

Thank you again.
⚠️

My eyes opened, and the world exploded in light. The night sky was a deep, rich purple, like a bruise or the color of royalty—a dark navy canvas with silver stars and the darkness impenetrable beneath it.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I searched the spacious neighborhood. The house was lit like the Vegas strip, and the lights flowed in rhythm with the party inside, the dark curtains bobbing to the beat.

The phone vibrated again in my pocket before I picked it up. "How can I help you, Sam?" I asked.

"You promised to help me move boxes into the basement," Sam grumbled through the phone.

"Yeah," I replied with annoyance.

"First," he began, in a low tone, "This is a public neighborhood, and people can see you." Yep, Hollywood was perfect so far.

"Second," he said, "Noah and Derek are helping me because you're out there, and..."

The crashing glass passed through my phone's speaker, and Sam's voice became unclear.

My father stood in his pajamas, eyes wide and bloodshot in the doorway. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. The two of us stopped by the door and waited.

From the rooftop and landed on the ground. My father anxiously awaited my arrival, running his hands through his gray hair. Noah pulled me. There wasn't time for knocking.

"Derek is out cold in the lab," Noah grumbled.

My father's face scrunched. His brow furrowed in concentration. His deep breaths fogged in front of him, each exhale billowing up. My father's emotions were uncontrollable and intense. His face was red, and his eyes widened. His jaw clenched, sweat covered his red face, and his brows furrowed with concentration.

I rushed to the basement, down the steps, and quickly rushed to Derek's aid.

Sam's hair was a mess. It was unkempt and dirty; his face was flushed, and he had bags under his eyes.

The basement was a lost cause, with boxes of Sam's experiments strewn everywhere. You'd end up standing in a pile of glass if you took the wrong step, and who knows what would happen if you did.

"Sam, you better have a good explanation for this," I snapped, standing at the bottom step, peering in. Sam held a pale Derek to his chest and pulled his fingers to his lips.

"He's not dead, James," he pointed out. However, a lifeless-looking Derek with colorless skin and blue lips begged to differ.

"Is that what I looked like?" I questioned, pushing my way through the mess of trashed experiments.

Noah's face paled. "Yeah, I believe so," Sam muttered, placing Derek on the floor. "Put him on the couch or something." He ordered, forgetting I knew about his powers. I rolled my eyes, gripping his torso and lifting his limp body into my arms. Noah and Sam followed me into the living room.

The living room was a mess, with Derek's lifeless body on the sofa and Noah, Sam, and my father. My father towered over me, his police badge on his belt and his gun on his side. My father didn't trust Sam.

Derek's head rolled back against my shoulder, and his eyes closed. His complexion went from pale to ashen, the bags under his eyes darkened, and his hair was tangled.

"Dad," I snarled, pushing him away, "Calm down." My father adjusted his gun in his holster along his waist and sneered at his brother.

"Don't you ever make this mistake again, Samual!" My father stared Sam down in the eyes. Sam appeared in the room's corner, avoiding my father's gaze and facing far against the wall, intimidated by his brother's wrath. "I won't, Matt. I promise," Sam replied.