The Wraith (Superhero by Night Book 1) Read online

  The Wraith

  Superhero by Night: Book One

  Jeffery H. Haskell

  The Wraith Copyright © 2018 by Jeffery H. Haskell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Vividcovers.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Jeffery H. Haskell

  Visit my website at www.jefferyhhaskell.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Nov 2018

  Molten Press

  ISBN-13 ooo-0-0000000-1-2

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  What's Next?

  More about me...

  For Stan

  Chapter 1

  “Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win” ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  I hate New Orleans. It killed my brother Charles when I was eleven, and it’s been killing me every day since.

  Nowhere else have I lived where the thermometer would hit seventy-five and have rain pour from the sky, all on Thanksgiving Day. Oh, how I missed New York at that moment.

  The Lyft driver waited patiently for me to open the door on the tiny electric car they all seemed to favor. I clutched my Italian leather handbag like a safety blanket and gathered up the courage to step foot on my parent's lawn for our annual holiday get-together. This was the last place I wanted to be, and it was the only place I could go.

  With a sigh, I pushed the door open. Rain instantly washed in, soaking the maroon skirt wrapped around my legs. I wasn’t dressed for this weather, partly because of denial (I didn’t want to be here) and partly out of habit. When I left home this morning I had no idea that it would be my last day as a model.

  Green grass covered the lawn right up to the foot-wide flower bed that lined the walk. It was filled with lavender in my mom’s eternal quest to bring back honey bees to New Orleans. I could barely hear my shoes click-clack on the walkway over the driving rain. I raised my handbag over my head to keep my hair dry as I half walked, half ran for the porch. I’d spent hours on my hair and getting it straight was no mean feat. Losing all that hard work in the rain would only take a few moments.

  For a pair of lawyers, you’d think my parents would have a nicer house, but they still lived in the home I grew up in; the one I left almost nine years ago. I came back only once each year, on Thanksgiving, it was Mom and Dad’s favorite holiday. I do love them, and my little sister, but every time I set foot in New Orleans, I’m that same little kid with only hopes and dreams to keep me going.

  Now that they are all crushed, being back here is even harder.

  As I approached the front door, Mom flung it open to greet me with a big smile on her chubby face. She’d aged since I saw her last. A bit of grey around her temples and more laugh lines creasing the black skin around her brown eyes.

  “Madi!” she cried out. I smiled as we embraced. Thankful for the warm welcome and the reminder of home.

  “Hi Mom,” I said.

  She led me inside, shutting the door behind me. “How long can you stay this time?”

  “A while,” I said as I put my bag down and shook off my leather coat.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “How long is a while?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I was soon distracted by the smell of turkey, mashed potatoes, and fresh baking rolls: everything I love about Thanksgiving but haven’t been able to enjoy since I was sixteen. Old habits die hard but now there was no reason not to enjoy. Now that my modeling career was over.

  “Madi,” Sara screamed. My fourteen-year-old sister ran from the stairs to leap in my arms. “You’re home!”

  “I’m home Spice Cake,” I said. She crinkled her nose at my using her nickname. Sara wore her hair in a ‘fro, something I wish had done when I was her age, but it just wasn’t popular then. I wouldn’t have spent all that time and money keeping my hair straight.

  “You know I’m fourteen now, you can use my name,” she said.

  “Oh wow, fourteen! You are wise to the world.” I lifted her up off the ground and spun around. Of my family, she understood me best, despite the thirteen-year age gap. After what happened with Charles they had wanted another child. Secretly, I think Mom had hoped for a boy, not to replace my brother, but to fill in for him. Instead, they got Sara. She is an angel: a straight ‘A’ student who keeps her nose clean and away from any bad elements. It probably helped that Dad is an Assistant District Attorney for the city and Mom is one of the leading property lawyers in all of Louisiana.

  Okay, I’m proud of them. It doesn’t mean I like coming home. If they’d come see me in New York I’d be thrilled, but this place… I try my best to put that behind me and enjoy the now. It doesn’t matter anymore.

  “Henry will be here any minute,” Sara said as she led me to the living room.

  “Thanks for the warning, Spice.” Of course, Mom invited Henry. Nothing makes a family dinner more awkward than an ex-husband.

  We passed the living room and as usual, the TV was on, no volume though. ASU was busy getting their butt’s kicked by Kansas State, Dad’s alma mater.

  He was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  Sara rolled her eyes at me. “You know where.”

  Yeah, I did. Upstairs working, as usual. Some things never changed.

  I spent a little time catching up with Sara; she wanted to tell me all about this boy she wasn’t interested in.

  “Are you staying this time?” Sara asked out of the blue.

  “Yeah, Spice, I am. For a little while anyway. Which means…”

  She sighed. “I have to share a room with you. Eww.”

  The house only had three bedrooms. One was Mom and Dad’s, the other was their office, and the third, Sara’s. She was still sleeping in their room when I left for college.

  “How’s the modeling business treating you?” Dad’s voice interrupted us as he came down the squeaking stairs.

  “Fine,” I replied a little too stiltedly. Sara gave me a look and I hushed her with a hand. “I’ll explain later,” I said to her quietly. Dad seemed to sense something was off and even opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t, just giv
ing me a tight smile before turning to the kitchen.

  “They’re under a lot of stress,” Sara said, defending Dad’s lack of warmth. As if he hadn’t been like that to me since Charles passed away.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Something about a new gang moving into town. A lot of kids in school are talking about it. They have superpowers and flaunt the law. I guess they moved up from South America and are taking advantage of the recent unrest to move in.”

  I stood staring at her for a moment. “When did you become fluent in geopolitics?” I asked.

  She raised up her smartphone. “All the knowledge in the world in one handy electric device. Seriously, how did you even grow up without Google?”

  I pushed her playfully away from me. “Back in my day, we had to look things up on a computer. Not some fancy-schmancy smartphone.”

  “That’s so you,” she said.

  We laughed, and for the first time today, I relaxed. Only for a moment, though. As soon as I let my guard down the events of the day caught up with me.

  “What?” she said.

  “What what?”

  “You got all sad, the way Mom does when she looks at pictures of Charles,” Sara said. Perceptive girl. I’m glad to hear Mom still has pictures of him. I’d have to ask her about that. After he died, I couldn’t tell if they were mourning, trying to forget him, or what. Mostly, Dad was too busy blaming me for what happened, and Mom spent all her time crying. They had each other, then they had Sara. I had no one.

  I shook my head. “Nothing for it now, Spice. Let’s just say, my schedule opened up… a lot.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Don’t you have another modeling gig lined up?”

  I shook my head again. “Nope. C’mon, dinner’s about ready, let’s eat.”

  Oh Charles. I wish you could be here, little brother. I’m sorry you’re not.

  As soon as we sat down, Dad pulled out his cell phone and laid it on the table next to his plate, checking it every few seconds. Mom did her best to ignore his rudeness as she served up the turkey and all the accouterments she’d spent the day cooking.

  Awkward silence stretched out as we finished loading up our plates with steaming hot food.

  “How’s Henry coming along at the office?” I asked Dad. It was the only thing I could think of to break the silence. Anything other than my career and life. All I needed was to hear Dad say, ‘I told you so’ and I would lose it.

  “Good, sharp young man. He’ll be DA one day if he plays his cards right. He’s aggressive, ambitious, all the right things. Take this ISO-1 case we’re building. He’s really pushing the Police Superintendent to make some arrests.”

  “They’re not going to,” Sara said. Dad cocked his head to the side at her comment.

  “Oh wise one, please explain how you know this?” Dad asked.

  “NO-PD doesn’t use super-powered cops; everyone knows ISO-1 has supers working for them. Unless The Saints or The Protectors get involved, there isn’t anything that can be done. It’s just like the Riot Boys all over again. If Louisiana was like New York and required supers to work for the state—”

  “Let me just stop you right there honey,” Dad said holding up his hand.

  You know what I didn’t want? Another lecture about ‘those damn Yankees.’

  “It remains to be seen if the Night Watch will win its legal battle with the Supreme Court. Mandating someone serve the state is a lot like indentured servitude. Just because someone is born with, or manifests, superpowers, doesn’t give us the right to make them a soldier, or police officer, or anything.”

  Sara rolled her eyes at him. I can almost hear the retort coming before she says it. “Well, Madi thinks—”

  “Leave me out of this. If it were up to me, no one would have superpowers. Then we wouldn’t get things like what happened in DC…”

  “If no one had superpowers then the Aliens would have destroyed the Earth,” Dad replied.

  “Oh, come on, you really believe that nonsense? Did you see any aliens? All I saw was that team—”

  “The Protectors,” Sara added.

  “Yeah, all I saw was them fighting a giant robot, something they did over and over again for a couple of years,” I said.

  People flying and bulletproof men were one thing… but aliens? Give me a break. Of course, we’ve had this discussion before. Dad has always stood on the side of the superheroes, while I would rather they didn’t exist. After all, if there were no superpowers, Charles would still be alive.

  “Madi, Alex, please. Not this argument—”

  The doorbell interrupted Mom… and just in time.

  “That will be Henry,” Dad said with a tight smile. “Try to be civil Madi, he’s a co-worker.”

  “I’m not the one who left, Dad. He did. But yes, I’ll be civil.”

  Mom stood up and headed for the door. “So, Spice, what’s your favorite subject in school?” I asked Sara.

  She just opened her mouth to answer when Mom returned with a drenched Henry Williams, my ex-husband. He always looked so good. He played football in college and he’d kept his shape since then; probably spent more time in the gym than he did eating. However, today he looked haggard. His clothes didn’t fit quite right and there were bags under his eyes.

  “Henry, good to see you, son,” Dad said, standing. I dropped my head to hide my unreasonable anger. When Henry left me, it was like Charles all over again. I hadn’t just lost a husband, I’d lost my parents.

  “Alex. Nadia,” he said coolly. He glanced over at me and Sara, a frown on his face. “Hi Madisun, I didn’t know you would be here…”

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Henry. Mom would serve me up as pie if I didn’t come.” I did my best to break the tension. We were only married for six months but it felt like a lifetime.

  “Listen, Alex, is there someplace we can talk?”

  “What? Now? Henry, sit down and have some food. We can talk after dinner.”

  He opened his mouth to protest but decided against it and pulled a chair opposite of me, not bothering to take off his long coat before sitting. His eyes I used to love so much, flickered between me and Sara almost faster than I could follow.

  “Madisun, maybe you and Sara should go for a bit, you know, take a drive downtown or something?”

  I grinned. He wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily. I may not like coming home but it was my home dammit. I’d be hanged if I let him chase me away. “Uh no. We haven’t even finished dinner.”

  He nodded. “Still, you should go.”

  My annoyance at his presence flared up. I could put up with him but not if he was going to spend the evening trying to throw me out of my own home. Even though I didn’t want to be here, I wasn’t going to leave because he said so.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I said to him, pointing my fork for emphasis. “You can’t come in here and tell me what to do. You aren’t my husband anymore, remember?”

  “Madi, please,” Dad broke in.

  “Madi, please? You did hear him just tell me to leave? Right? And you’re taking his side?”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Henry said standing up and knocking his chair over. “Alex, I need you to call Superintendent Reeds and tell him to back off ISO-1. We need more time to gather evidence.”

  I admit that wasn’t what I expected him to say.

  “Is that what this is about? You came here on Thanksgiving to talk business with Dad? For the love of— I get it, you’re both very important people, but can you let one day go by without work?” I asked.

  Henry ignored me as he pulled his cell phone out, scanning through the contacts until he found the right number and handing it over to Dad.

  “What?” Dad asked, confusion plain on his face.

  Henry was freaking me out. Now that I had a little time to get past the shock of seeing him, he didn’t look haggard— he looked frightened.

  “Henry, what’s going on?” I asked him. I stood up, taking S
ara’s hand in mine. Maybe leaving wasn’t such a bad idea.

  The oven beeped, interrupting us. Mom stood up and excused herself as she headed over to the kitchen.

  “Please, you don’t have much time, I’m begging you. Make the call,” Henry pleaded. He really sounded desperate.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you son, but we aren’t discussing this here— whatever it is, can wait until after the holiday.”

  Henry sagged under the answer—as if all the weight in the world were heaped upon his shoulder. “Please,” he whispered.

  The sadness in that one word sent a surge of fear through me. I’d never seen Henry this way—and we’d known each other since the fifth grade. I squeezed Sara’s hand and pulled her to me as I walked for the garage door. The car keys hung on pegs I’d painted in the sixth grade.

  “It’s too late,” Henry said. “Too late.”

  Mom screamed from the kitchen. I spun around, only to see her run into the room as she burst into flame, fire crawling up her legs. Sara’s scream followed my own. I panicked. “Stop, drop, and roll,” spoken a thousand times to me in school filled my head. I let go of Sara and charged Mom. I hit her with enough force to knock us both down. She wailed as the fire continued to burn her. I winced as pain shot up my hands from the heat. God, how could she catch on fire this quick? I rolled her over and over trying to get the fire to go away when I heard Sara scream again.

  The lights in the room flickered and a ghost walked through the walls. Tall, lean, and wearing all white like some kind of TV villain, he marched straight toward Dad, passing through solid objects as if they weren’t there. In his hand, he flipped a straight razor back and forth in the air. Dad stood up, gripping his steak knife. As the man approached, Dad slashed at him, the blade went right through. The Ghost laughed as he slashed back. The razor cut through Dad’s throat sending a spray of blood against the wall.

  No!

  Dad stumbled backward, clasping his throat with both hands. The Ghost looked at Henry, “Get out of here before it gets real,” he said. Henry just nodded, turned, and ran. He didn’t even look at me.