9. Ward

Our chatting diminished as the weather did, stealing more and more of Dev's concentration. I offered to drive at one point, but he gave me a look of disbelief. And all right, fair. My idea of winter driving was not this. It was snowing again, and good Christ, how did people in this country stay sane?

We stopped in North Bay for dinner at some Canadian chain restaurant I didn't recognize. The food was decent, though, so I didn't complain. By the time we emerged, it was full dark and the white stuff was coming down harder than when we'd parked.

Dev paused in the entryway of the restaurant, his lips screwed up into a distasteful look. "What do you think?"

I checked my phone for the time. It was only 5 p.m., which seemed far too early to stop. "How much farther?"

"We can get to Ottawa before ten. It's less than four hours from here."

"Assuming the weather doesn't get any worse," Hallie pointed out.

Dev acknowledged her point with a nod. "Yeah, that."

I weighed my options. Or, well, tried to. The thought of spending another night in a hotel room with Dev sort of overrode everything else.

I still couldn't believe what I'd done that morning. It was so unlike me, to seek out that sort of…companionship. No, I should call it what it was—comfort. The news of Crimson's escape had shaken me. Part of me wasn't surprised at my octopus impression, snuggling up to Dev, but the urge to take it further? Moreso, his willingness to let me?

I didn't know what to make of that.

But I couldn't let it influence my decision here. The most important thing was getting Hallie to Ottawa, retrieving her papers, and then heading south of the border to the training facility that was waiting for her arrival.

And, to be fair, there was a small part of me that whispered keep moving. We were harder to find if we didn't stop.

"Let's keep going, then," I decided, with more confidence in my voice than I felt.

Dev nodded. "Good plan."

From the sourness of her expression, it was easy to tell Hallie wasn't a fan. "Whatever," she grumbled.

I got it—getting back in the truck was going to be a test of endurance. I was as done with it as she was, but maybe I could make it a little more enjoyable for us both. Before she followed Dev out into the snow, I laid a hand on her shoulder. "If you're interested, I can go over some theory. No more than that, though, not while we're in the truck."

I'd been waiting to start this phase of her education when we arrived in Ottawa, since I'd assumed we'd be there for a couple of days while waiting for her documentation. But by the way her eyes lit up at the idea of learning, I figured I'd made the right call to start now instead.

"Deal!" she said. "I can't do more YouTube. I can't."

"Bet you never thought you'd say those words, did you?"

"Not in a million years."

I climbed into the backseat with her, ignoring Dev's good-natured mutterings about being a chauffeur, fastened my seatbelt and waited for her to buckle up as well before getting started.

"They're going to go over this in more depth when you get to the academy, so I'm not going to focus too much on the details." Honestly, I was pretty sure I'd forgotten most of them. Oops. "But I can give you some things to think about. See how they fit with what you feel."

"Before we get to that…" She bit her lip. "Can you tell me why I'm like this?"

I shook my head. We passed under a streetlight that lit up her face momentarily, and my heart broke at the expression she wore. Uncertain, unsure, scared. I couldn't say I knew exactly what she was feeling—my childhood had been stable and supportive, where it was clear hers hadn't been. But I could sympathize.

"No one knows," I admitted softly. "There are a ton of theories out there, but nothing's been proven one way or another. Some scientists say it's environmental. Some say it's a natural evolution. There are some who say we're descendants of aliens."

"Personally, I like that theory," Dev interjected.

"The one I like is that it's a combination of multiple factors that coalesce in a right-place, right-time way, which makes it impossible to nail down." I offered a small smile, which stretched my lips in an odd way, highlighting how infrequently I smiled at all. "The important thing is that you're different, not abnormal. Got it?"

"Different, not abnormal," she echoed. "O-okay."

The streetlights disappeared as we continued talking, leaving us in darkness except for the light emanating from the dashboard. Dev kept the music low as I shared stories about my own time at a training facility and answered any and all questions Hallie posed to me. She had some good ones, like whether there were different classes for the different powers (yes, but some common ones as well), if supers could be as big of assholes as normals (yes, unfortunately), and…

"Has anyone who trained at one of these facilities ever turn out to be a villain?"

I gritted my teeth. "Yes, actually. I—"

"Jesus Christ!"

I'd barely registered Dev's shout before we swerved to the left, then back to the right. The rear end of the truck swung out hard, and I couldn't keep my head from slamming into the window. The world took on a weird buzzing quality, muting Hallie's screams and Dev's curses. I threw out an arm automatically—some instinctive effort to keep Hallie in her seat that was totally useless. I couldn't reach her.

Then the truck was flipping, and the world faded entirely.

"Ward!"

There was an odd pressure in my head. Like all my blood had rushed to it. My temple throbbed painfully and for an instant, I wondered why. Then I remembered. Truck. Accident.

My eyes jolted open to look at Hallie—who was upside down. No, wait, that was me. She was crouched on the roof of the truck, which was now the floor, looking up at me.

"Oh, thank god," she breathed. "I can't get to Dev, and he's been unconscious since we stopped."

I craned my neck, but I could barely see Dev. His arms hung limply, dangling toward the ceiling-floor. "Wha' hap—?" I blinked, swallowed, tried again. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Hallie said. "But we're in the ditch. Upside down."

"I figured that much out."

"Oh. Yeah." She huffed out a humorless laugh.

My limbs didn't want to cooperate, but I forced my hands to the buckle of the seatbelt. Pressing the button did nothing, not even with Hallie's fingers providing added pressure. I was good and stuck, hanging upside down, while frigid air blew through the broken front passenger window, past the airbag that blocked most of it, and our driver—my partner, my…yeah, no, we'd leave it there—remained unresponsive in the front seat.

I'd been in worse jams, but not since I'd lost my powers.

"Okay, Hallie, I'm going to need you to focus. Can you do that?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide.

"You're going to have to cut my seatbelt with your fire." I gave my head a shake as she opened her mouth to protest, and she subsided. "I know. It's a lot to ask. It requires a huge amount of control and precision."

"I don't know if I can do that." There was a definite whimper in her voice, and I didn't blame her one bit. She was scared, a bit traumatized, and now I was asking her to push herself in ways she'd never done.

"You can," I said unequivocally. She needed my belief in her right now, and I was willing to give it. "You have to, Hallie, so you can."

"I—" She screwed up her lips and nodded again. "Yeah, okay."

Now, where was the best spot for her to cut? Not anywhere I was pressed against the belt—I had faith in Hallie, but I didn't want to push my luck. "Can you reach on the side, here? By the door?"

She crouched and disappeared out of my limited view. "I think—yeah."

"Good. Now, imagine your fire is a laser. Focus it down to the narrowest point you can manage, and draw your finger over the belt." I'd done the same, on a number of occasions. I missed the days where my only limit was my imagination, and I envied Hallie's future. It was a bright one—no pun intended.

"Okay." Her voice shook, whether from effort or fear, I wasn't sure. My head pounded as I waited for the belt to give way, or for some other indication. "Nothing's happening."

I blew out a breath. "It's okay. You're probably not letting enough of your power out because it's scary. But, Hallie, you can do it." You have to do it

She audibly swallowed. "I can do it," she repeated in a whisper.

The wind whistled through the broken window, bringing with it eddies of snow, but over that sound, the soft shushing of Hallie's jacket told me she was moving. Slow, steady. The acrid scent of burned fabric entered the truck's cabin, and I held back a whoop of success. Slightly premature, and besides, I didn't want to startle her.

The seatbelt snapped, and my bottom half slid to the floor—or, well, roof. I slithered past the chest strap like an ungraceful snake and collapsed, breathing hard, dizzy from the change in perspective.

"Ward? Are you okay?"

I managed to nod. "Will be." Allowing myself only five seconds of reprieve, I inhaled deeply and pushed my headache and fuzziness aside before scrambling into the front seat to check on Dev.

He was breathing, steady and sure, and his pulse was strong. His glasses were broken, sitting lopsided on the bridge of his nose, and newly dried blood coated his face and the deflated airbag. No doubt the airbag had broken his glasses and his nose, though it had saved him from worse damage. The side airbag had inflated as well, probably when the truck had rolled.

"Dev? Can you hear me?"

He moaned, and if it wasn't the sweetest fucking sound I'd ever heard.

"Dev, it's Ward. C'mon, nap time is over."

Slowly, his eyes blinked open, and he stared at me for a second, clearly trying to understand why I was upside down. Having been in his situation only a few minutes ago, I got it.

"This is a shitty spot for a nap," he muttered. He lifted a floppy hand to wipe at his face, and his fingers came away bloody. "What—"

"Airbag," I explained.

"Save your life, but break your face," he grumbled.

"You're sounding like Ward," Hallie pointed out, her voice trembling. "I'm going to have to use my fire again, aren't I?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." I shifted back so she could get a better vantage point but kept my eyes on Dev. "She's going to cut your seatbelt with fire."

"Oh, good. I'm tired of hanging from the ceiling like a bat." He closed his eyes, like he was ready for another nap.

"Hey, stay awake," I said sharply.

He squinted at me, his eyes barely open. "But my nose hurts."

"Whiner. What happened, anyway?"

"Moose."

My mouth dropped open. "We hit a moose?"

"No, we avoided a moose."

"Holy shit. Why?"

"Because I wanted to turn our drive into a rollercoaster ride." He rolled his eyes.

Well, this was a side of Dev I hadn't seen before. I sort of liked it. "No, seriously."

"Because hitting a moose is kind of like hitting a wall. Or having a head-on with another car. They're huge, and their antlers have a habit of coming through windshields and taking off people's heads."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

"No. I don't know," he admitted with a huff. "But my dad always told me to ditch the car rather than hit a moose, and I figured he was right in most other things, so…"

The scent of burned seatbelt reached my nose a second before Dev came out of his seat with a grunt. He didn't slide out as easily as I had—he was bigger and there was more in his way than I'd had in mine in the backseat—but it took only a few seconds for us to get him to the floor. Roof. Whatever.

I clapped a hand on Hallie's shoulder. "Great job. You rescued two men from the scene of a car crash, and you haven't even had any training yet."

Her smile was luminous. "Yeah, I did save you, didn't I?"

"You did."

"But we've still got some saving to do." Dev tried to right his glasses, but they wouldn't sit properly. After a second, he gave up. "Ward, you got service on your phone?"

Some hero I was. I hadn't even thought to check. I blamed the possible head injury that was still making my skull throb. "No, nothing."

"I've got one bar," Dev said, squinting at his device. "Hal?"

"Same. And it's gone. Now it's back."

"Worth trying to call nine-one-one." He dialed the numbers and held the phone to his ear. After a moment, he shook his head, then winced, probably because the motion reverberated through his nose. Been there, done that, had no desire to have a broken nose ever again. "Call dropped."

"Try texting April."

He typed out a short text, but grimaced and held up the screen so I could see the Sending… under the message. "Might get enough juice to send, might not."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Hallie asked, her voice wobbly. No doubt the adrenaline was fading, given how her hands had started to shake.

I pulled her to my side and she came without protest. "We stay in the truck." Glancing up at Dev, I sought his guidance. "Right?"

"Right. We've got shelter—mostly," he amended, looking over my shoulder at the broken window and the snow that was still sneaking past the airbag. "Better than fully being out in the weather."

"We can huddle for warmth," I suggested, holding out my other arm in invitation for Dev to come closer.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he didn't make any comments, simply crawled across the roof to join in the circle. "If we need to, Hallie can make a fire, yeah?"

"With what?" Her eyes widened. "I don't want to burn your truck."

"Pretty sure it's totaled anyway."

"And the whole reason we found you was because you set a snowbank on fire," I reminded her.

"Oh. Yeah."

"But you're right, that's a last resort." My eyes met Dev's. "This is a main highway. Someone's got to come along sooner rather than later." I swallowed. "Right?"

He met my eyes solemnly, and I saw the uncertainty in them even as he answered brightly, "Definitely. Someone will find us."

I hadn't heard a car pass in however long we'd been here, and I didn't even know how far off the road we were. So the question was—would they find us before we froze?

I didn't like our odds.