Every second that he kept silent was a blow against his heart. Charles had long since become used to carrying guilt--what had happened with Eclipso, with Rebecca-- but this was different. This wasn’t over something he had let happen. This was something he was letting happen.
But the veiled threat had been so clear. Once he had Myra and Stanley somewhere safe, he’d reach out. The thing in Sylvester’s body couldn’t hack into the goggles frequency, or so he hoped. It pained him, leaving his friends unprotected near enemies.
“Be reasonable,” he said to himself, faintly. “If he wanted them dead, they would be dead. He must have some kind of plot, something the Gambler discovered. So until they know, they’re safe.” It was feeble, a coward’s excuse, but he had to believe it. The Ultrahumanite had to have a plan, and there was no reason to think it would come due now. It simply wasn’t his MO.
And he’d sworn, to any higher power that could hear him, that if ever he escaped the shadows, he would not leave his wife in harm’s way again. That he had a son only strengthened that oath.
He had asked Courtney Whitmore what he ought to say to his son, the last time he left Blue Valley. She’d told him, cautiously and plainly, to let Stanley decide. To apologize for leaving, and understand if he was not welcomed back. It had been the worst anxiety of his life, standing on the porch in Melody Hills, hat in hand.
Myra hadn’t missed a step, and Stanley had been shy but eager to meet him. He’d had to tell them the truth. Secrets had gotten Rebecca killed, after all. They had understood, eventually. Myra still looked at him like he might vanish, he could tell that from her breathing, from the way she held his arm. He could not make that mistake again, any more than he could risk their lives.
“We have to go,” he said as soon as he entered the house. In just three months it had already become home.
Myra and Stanley hesitated, but only for a moment. “Go where? I have school,” Stanley said.
“We’ll come back soon,” Charles said. “It’s just.. Not safe. You have to disappear completely, until… until something’s dealt with. An old enemy.”
Myra’s grip around their son’s shoulders tightened. “Charles, you said--you said it was over…”
He shook his head. “This is something else. But he’s still dangerous, and he knows about both of you. How about England? I can…get some documents for you.”
“For all of us,” Myra insisted. “ I can’t lose you again. Don’t ask me to do that.”
Charles swallowed. The right thing to do would be to send his family far away, then return to Blue Valley.
He’d spent ten years walking the Shadows, lost. Myra had spent those same years raising their son alone. He couldn’t do that to her again. He nodded. “The three of us.”
He’d call Beth as soon as they were away, warn her, make sure she knew to speak to Pat somewhere they couldn’t be overheard, in code if need be. He could send her the files. A few hours.
Surely nothing drastic could happen in only a few hours.
