Jawbreaker (Four Point Universe Book 14) Read online

  Jawbreaker

  An Alternate Four Point Universe Story

  By Max Ellendale

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Jawbreaker

  Copyright © 2022 Max Ellendale

  Illustrator: Heather Dickerman

  Cover Design: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Deadra Krieger

  Editor: M.A. Marino

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Max Ellendale Publishing

  www.maxellendale.com

  For my Kitten, because every cheekbreaker needs a…

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  "Wrong way, girl. Where the hell you think you're goin'?" Nalea's sarcastic voice burst into my head from the communicator hidden in my ear.

  "You said left!" I groaned and gripped the corner of the building to assist in changing my trajectory. Bits of brick crumbled at my feet, but I managed to leap over them before tearing off down the alley.

  "The other left! How are we still having this argument?" A rugged sigh left the mouth of my best friend, and I rolled my eyes.

  "You're the one who has me chasing down a Peeping Tom on a Friday night instead of letting me watch Doctor Who until I fall asleep." The wind burned my face as my boots pounded the pavement. I scanned the vacant area in front of me, noting only the movement of a worker emptying the trash from a nearby restaurant. The voices of the patrons inside overwhelmed me with the level of busy-ness, as if I found myself standing in the middle of a crowd. "Wish I had a TARDIS."

  "Veyda, focus. Forty yards west."

  "I'm not a compass!"

  "Left, Veyda! Left."

  Rain splashed my brow in the exposed space below my beanie that hung heavier than it should. The city lights assaulted me when I raced down the sidewalk. Couples strolled, arm-in-arm, disturbed first by the perpetrator I pursued, and then by me. Seattle should've been used to me by now, but I still managed to surprise its citizens pretty often.

  "He's heading into the opening by S.A.M. Head him off." Nalea barked her command, followed by the whoop of a siren. "On the way."

  "Gotcha." My breath puffed against the thick respirator mask that muffled my voice.

  The lights from The Great Wheel shimmered in the distance as I rounded the turn toward the art museum. The perpetrator looked over his shoulder, the hem of his trench coat swinging behind him. His gaze met mine, and fear lifted his brows when he seemed to notice that I gained on him. Rain flattened his dark hair to his head, sending streams of water down his face. The heat in his step intensified, until the sirens cut him off. He slammed face-first into Nalea's SUV with the red, white, and blue lights flashing from the dash. I shielded my eyes and collided with my prey, holding his shoulder to the hood of the car. My heart pounded in my ears, ceasing its tantrum as soon as I stopped running.

  "He's unarmed," I called out, after a quick pat down of the suspect.

  "Hands behind your head." Nalea swung around the vehicle and shoved the man down harder.

  "I didn't do anything, you crazy bitches!" He wrestled, albeit half-heartedly, until she cuffed him up.

  "If you call climbing up and down fire escapes looking in windows not doing anything, then you, sir, need a new urban dictionary. You're under arrest." Nalea took immediate control of the situation and shoved him around until she secured him in the back of her SUV. She closed the door, then glanced at me. "Get out of here. We've drawn attention." She glanced over my shoulder, and I nodded.

  "Sure you're good?" I backed away toward the side street she emerged from as the fragments of voices belonging to the onlookers made it to my ears.

  "Yes. Go." She waved me off. "See you around."

  I nodded, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head before trotting off down the street.

  In the heat of the moment, my ability to leave my thoughts behind to focus on the pursuit of a suspect fed me the adrenaline I craved at times. It calmed my insides rather than riled them up. In the aftermath, however, it left me with a throbbing emptiness that troubled me. I couldn't describe it save for hollow, deep and unsettled, and it left an eeriness following me in the dark.

  I managed to slink through the shadows, avoiding the prying eyes of passersby, leaving Nalea to do her work. As a Seattle P.D. detective, her job and my passion often overlapped. Her collars, as she called them, meant everything to her. But for me, I worried more about the victims.

  My skin buzzed with liveliness, excited and overstimulated by the blood pumping in my veins. I knew I couldn't go home while feeling this way, and so I decided to double back and visit one of my favorite places. An afterhours visit to the Seattle Art Museum became one of my much loved illicit pastimes over the years. In the wee hours, when only dim lights illuminated the exhibits and no one walked the halls, I found solitude and solace.

  I approached the rear of the building, glancing around to make sure no one spotted me before pressing my back against the sandy-colored wall. I closed my eyes, drew in a slow breath, and allowed the energy that pulsed through me to disperse. Molecules tingled, rearranging themselves as my corporeal body melted away, leaving room for the ethereal one that carried me through the atoms that made up the wall and its parts. Twinkling lights flashed across my mind's eye while the tickling sensation lasted seconds until the soles of my boots thudded softly on the white tile. I waited there, releasing my breath as my form returned, then opened my eyes. In the long, familiar hall, the nightlights cast shadows that allowed me a clear path through the empty space. In the age of technology, no security guards roamed the building like they used to. Instead, cameras and security bots protected the place. It didn't matter though, at least not for me.

  My ears relaxed here, my senses calming in the lack of stimulation. No sounds overwhelmed me, save for the mild buzzing of electricity and droning of endless tech. I walked the shadows, keeping my eyes on my feet to avoid detection. My shadow swirled around me, avoiding the scanning cameras and cross-section of lasers with ease. The shadows shielded me from all detection, even heat sensors or infrared tech. A smile hid behind the device covering my nose and mouth, as I imagined myself walking a tightrope hundreds of feet above the city spread between two buildings. What would they think of that? Another showoff, perhaps. Houdini was like me, was like all of us. His magic, his sleight of hand, belonged to something more than human. He found a way to fit in, while the rest of us shared the spotlight with abnormal humans in a freakshow circus tent.

  I edged my way down the hall, pausing to avoid the squealing machinery with a lens when it pointed my way. Eventually, I arrived at my destination and smiled as soon as the photography exhibit
filled my field of vision. Imogen Cunningham's work—a mix of botanical, portraits, and nude photos—greeted me like a friendly hug. I reveled in the sight of the curves of black and white flowers, a closeup of a succulent, but mostly, I loved the portraits. Raw humanity, in its purest form, with beautiful faces, wild hair, and eyes that spoke more than their lips ever could. I stepped closer to the image of a woman with her eyes closed while she held her face and head. Turmoil wracked her crinkled brow, and I ached to know what she thought. To spend a moment with her asking what brought her to that place.

  A faint click shocked me out of my revelry, and I swung around in time to see the barrel of a gun pointed in my direction. My eyes trained on it, zooming in like the lens of a camera. A bullet remained in its chamber, ready to fire at me. The Glock bore the thicker front of a model crafted to dampen recoil. What stole my attention, however, wasn't the type of bullet or weapon, but the fingers that wrapped the grip. Delicate, feminine hands supported the weapon, and the light pink polish on the short nails spoke volumes more.

  "What are you doing in here, Hybridian?" a shaky voice spat. "Don't fucking move."

  "Are you seriously pointing a gun at me?" I stepped from the shadows then, allowing myself to fall into the light in front of her.

  "I am. You broke into my museum." Grayish eyes glared at me from under a narrowed brow. Her finger slid from the safe position to wrap around the trigger. "Why are you here?

  I looked away from her, my attention returning to the photograph beside me. "I like Imogene Cunningham."

  "How did you get in? Look at me." She stomped her foot, the heel of her stiletto snapping against the floor.

  I smirked, though she couldn't see it, as I returned my attention to her. "I walked."

  "You need to leave," she said, her entire body trembling in what looked like rage, but the pounding of her heart evidenced by the throbbing vein in her neck spoke only of her fear.

  "I plan to." I motioned to her, then let my hands flop at my sides. "You can put the gun away. You're clearly not going to shoot me."

  She frowned, icy eyes locked on mine. Eventually, she gave in, and tucked the gun behind her back after clicking the safety. In her black slacks, white blouse, and suspenders, she appeared nothing like a security guard, and everything like some sort of high-class business executive. The shape of her, including her long, dark hair seemed as though she stepped out of one of the photos surrounding us. She belonged there, frozen in time for centuries while new generations fawned over her.

  With the gun now out of view, I turned back to the photos, stealing a few more glances before my imminent departure. "Who are you?" I asked.

  "The curator," she responded, remaining frozen in place a few feet away. "And you need to leave."

  "Not calling the cops?"

  "You're a Protector. I recognize you from the news—well, maybe not you, but your outfit." Her gaze flickered over me from my shoes back to my eyes. "No one's…ever captured an image of your eyes before, have they?"

  I pursed my lips, frowning at the turning tables of the situation.

  "Can you fly, Hybridian?" She stepped toward me, her thick, dark eyebrows narrowed. "I know one of you can fly. I mean, there are at least four Protectors like you in this state, aren't there?"

  "How do you know I'm a Hybridian and not an Offlander? That's the second time you called me that."

  "Because you're the one that looks human." She walked a circle around me, eying me up and down. "The others don't."

  "I don't know the others, as you've coined them so casually."

  "They would probably reject you, wouldn't they? Offlanders don't usually like Hybridians."

  "Probably. I don't care. Why are you talking to me after I've broken into your museum?"

  "Because I'm getting a good look at you." A smirk tugged the corner of her mouth as she folded her arms over her middle. "Take off your mask."

  "Wow." I laughed, shaking my head at her. "I'm leaving."

  "Go ahead." She waved toward the door. "I'm not stopping you."

  I walked backward while watching her, partly amused, partly agitated, until my back hit the wall. I waved at her, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to melt into the wall. My distraction, and annoyance over the interrupting curator prevented a longer hold of my ethereal form. It took me twice as long to return to my position back on the streets.

  Nighttime always offered me the cover I needed, and I jogged my way through the shadows back to my apartment.

  "Who were you talking to?" Nalea's voice returned to my ear.

  "No one important. Where are you?" I unzipped my hoodie and looked up at the fire escape attached to the building.

  "Leaving the station. Where are you?"

  "Home." I thrust my weight upward while motioning my fingers in delicate circles angled toward my feet. Air swirled around my boots, lifting me in a sharp gust to propel me upward. I landed in a crouch on the fifth-floor escape and ducked under the stairs.

  "Good. Want Chinese or pizza for dinner?"

  "Greek." I tumbled through the thin window, landing with ease inside the apartment. Once in the clear, I pulled off my mask, and headed to my room to change.

  "Ugh. Always difficult, aren't you."

  "Always. Where's Audra?"

  "Parent-Teacher conferences tonight. She'll be home around ten. You want spanakopita?"

  "Yup. Falafel, too." I snickered while turning on the shower. "Hurry up. I'm starving."

  "Fine."

  "Ditching the comms to shower. See ya in a bit."

  "Later."

  Nalea arrived home just as I finished pulling on my favorite cozy pajamas. She set the bags of food on the kitchen counter then slipped out of her jacket.

  "How'd your collar go?" I asked, sliding up to sit on the stool by the island.

  "Repeat offender, as it turns out. On the sex offender registry. So, good work Protector Veyda. The fire under your feet matches your hair today, even if you don't have a TARDIS." She smirked at me while setting down one of the dinner containers. "Little nerd."

  "Shut up." I tugged the food toward me and grumbled.

  "So, what happened at the museum? I didn't hear all of it because work had the audacity to interrupt my eavesdropping." She flipped her braids over her shoulder before dropping down to sit across from me. She stole a fry off my plate at the same time that I nabbed her pickle.

  "I got caught by the curator." I shook my head. "An armed curator, mind you. She kept calling me a Hybridian like she knew more than she should or something."

  "I mean, a museum curator probably knows a lot about human and alien history so, if anyone is going to call you out, it's her." She lifted her gyro and devoured a heaping bite. "Mmm. Good choice."

  "Told you." I snickered and stabbed a falafel with my fork. "My favorite."

  "I got a note from the tip line that tomorrow night the Four-One-Seven gang has some kind of exchange going down in Rainier Beach. You up for a bust, my favorite superhero bestie?"

  "Maybe." I narrowed my eyes at her. "I feel like you're using me for my skills and ability to tolerate multiple rounds of heavy fire."

  She laughed and tapped a single finger on my wrist. "I love you, Vey. Settled enough for a hug?"

  I nodded and leaned into her outstretched arms. Her hands stroked my back in cautious circles before smooching my cheek. "Thanks. I love you, too, by the way. Probably not as much as Audra does though. What am I gonna do when you two move out?"

  "Move out?" She gasped, clutching the center of her button-down. "You mean you're not planning to live with us and help raise the baby growing in her uterus?"

  I laughed and swatted her arm. "Raise your own offspring, bum."

  "Boo." She grinned and leaned forward to bump her forehead with mine. "Offspring will love Auntie Veyda."

  "Auntie Veyda will love offspring just the same." I gave one of her dozens of braids a gentle stroke. "We've been roommates since college."

  "I know. Audra love
s living here, too. The three of us have been a good team."

  "You don't have to rush moving out, Nalea. We'll figure something out."

  "We will." She paused for a moment while nibbling on her food. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Of course." My brow furrowed at her unusual delivery. "Anything."

  "It's a little bizarre to ask."

  "Okay…"

  "Can you hear the baby's heartbeat? I mean… I hate to ask, but can you hear her?"

  A smile curved my lips and I nodded. "Uh huh. All the time. If I really focus, I can hear her moving around. Or some sounds she makes. Don't tell Audra that I listen to her uterus. It's just…odd."

  Nalea laughed and tossed her arms around me unexpectedly. I caught her and stroked her back gently. "I've been meaning to ask…but I know it's a sensitive subject."

  "It's fine. When it matters, it's fine." I smiled and nudged her chin with my knuckles. "For my besties."

  "Can I tell Audra?"

  "Of course."

  "Would you tell me if you hear something or pick up on something…wrong?" She asked the question as delicately as she could.

  "I would…" I patted her knee and offered her a firm nod. "Of course I would."

  "Okay. Because I would rather know."

  "Me too." I drew in a slow breath and motioned to our food on the counter. "Let's take this into the living room and watch a show."

  "Not Doctor Who—"

  "C'mon!"

  "No!"

  "I need to see the fortieth Doctor in action—"

  "That's a resounding no from me—"

  "Nalea!"

  "Tough shit, girl." She picked up some of our dinner and toted it over to the coffee table. "Reality T.V. or bust."

  "Dear God, no."

  "Hell yes."

  "We don't need to see humans vs. robots locked in a house again."

  "We absolutely do."

  "How are we even friends?" I whined as I dropped down to sit on the sofa after setting my food on the table. "We have none of the same interests."

  "The arguing about it is what makes us friends. How about a movie then? I'm in the mood for a superhero flick for some reason."