But he wasn't Father anymore. He was as black as night, his body steaming with heat, his face just a skull without features, without eyes. Logan glanced around and tears blurred his eyes. He blinked them away. Charred bodies sat unmoving at wrinkled and melted Formica tables, no longer their original bright blooming red. Even the ceiling above bore burn marks in a circular pattern.
As if something had exploded where he stood. An explosion large enough to incinerate everything within a twenty-foot radius in the beat of a hummingbird's wing.
Gasping Logan turned his head to look at his mother but dread gripped his stomach with an icy fist. Somehow he already knew what he would see. Maybe he'd felt it in his hand, maybe the skin of his fingers had sensed the strange texture of his mother's fingers.
A scream rose in his throat as his eyes fell on his mother. His beautiful mother. He stared at the ruined face, muscles taut and black as soot. All her hair had been burned off and all that remained was a grotesque corpse. Logan's hands shook and he pulled away. His body spasmed as he let go of what used to be his mother's hand. Heat rose and fell inside him and he couldn't help but wonder.
Had he just killed his mother?
***
Chapter 2
12 Hours Later
Logan lay on the bed staring sightlessly at the slightly marbled ceiling tiles. He didn't move. Didn't want to. His chest rose and fell and every now and then he swallowed. His body doing its work to keep him alive. But right now he wasn't sure he wanted to be alive. He didn't deserve life. Not after what he had just done. To his mother and his father and all those innocent people in the diner.
A few times he'd turned over and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to suffocate the life from his body but they had monitors and machines telling them stuff about him, and they had all come running, speaking kindly and softly, soothing him, telling him it would be okay soon.
But Logan couldn't believe them.
Now he lay there unmoving, his hands trapped within wide leather belts. They didn't hurt but they stopped him from doing what he wanted to do. Right now he couldn't stand the thought of living one more second. Not after seeing what he'd done to his beautiful mother. He lay there and stared and stared until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep took him away to some semblance of peace.
***
Chapter 3
Jacinta watched the little boy as he struggled with the horror of the previous night.
Frustrated, she curled her fingers into a fist, glad her emotional reaction was well hidden by the cuff of her jacket. The last thing she needed was for Gunther to accuse her of being emotionally involved. She wanted to laugh. He had no idea how invested she was in the well-being of Logan Westin.
And besides, humans always think of Titans as unemotional, above human feelings. If they only knew.
She shifted from one foot to another, glanced down at her clipboard notes then up again at the two-way mirror that opened onto the boy's room. She'd been watching since he arrived late last night and although almost a day had passed she had no intention of leaving.
At first she'd wanted nothing to do with Gunther's manipulations but in the end the council had convinced her that she had to be there, active in Omega, for the good of the boy. And she had relented. She would do her part to protect him.
And his sister.
Unfortunately she could do nothing to protect him from what would happen over the next few days. And that's what made her furious; the ability to act to prevent more horrors from being visited on the boy. She didn't agree with what Omega had planned for either Logan or his sister, but the council had assured her both children w ould be observed and protected as best as they could. But they were clear on one thing; they couldn't move on the organization and jeopardize decades of work just for two little kids.
She suppressed a snort. The council knew well enough how important these
As if something had exploded where he stood. An explosion large enough to incinerate everything within a twenty-foot radius in the beat of a hummingbird's wing.
Gasping Logan turned his head to look at his mother but dread gripped his stomach with an icy fist. Somehow he already knew what he would see. Maybe he'd felt it in his hand, maybe the skin of his fingers had sensed the strange texture of his mother's fingers.
A scream rose in his throat as his eyes fell on his mother. His beautiful mother. He stared at the ruined face, muscles taut and black as soot. All her hair had been burned off and all that remained was a grotesque corpse. Logan's hands shook and he pulled away. His body spasmed as he let go of what used to be his mother's hand. Heat rose and fell inside him and he couldn't help but wonder.
Had he just killed his mother?
***
Chapter 2
12 Hours Later
Logan lay on the bed staring sightlessly at the slightly marbled ceiling tiles. He didn't move. Didn't want to. His chest rose and fell and every now and then he swallowed. His body doing its work to keep him alive. But right now he wasn't sure he wanted to be alive. He didn't deserve life. Not after what he had just done. To his mother and his father and all those innocent people in the diner.
A few times he'd turned over and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to suffocate the life from his body but they had monitors and machines telling them stuff about him, and they had all come running, speaking kindly and softly, soothing him, telling him it would be okay soon.
But Logan couldn't believe them.
Now he lay there unmoving, his hands trapped within wide leather belts. They didn't hurt but they stopped him from doing what he wanted to do. Right now he couldn't stand the thought of living one more second. Not after seeing what he'd done to his beautiful mother. He lay there and stared and stared until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep took him away to some semblance of peace.
***
Chapter 3
Jacinta watched the little boy as he struggled with the horror of the previous night.
Frustrated, she curled her fingers into a fist, glad her emotional reaction was well hidden by the cuff of her jacket. The last thing she needed was for Gunther to accuse her of being emotionally involved. She wanted to laugh. He had no idea how invested she was in the well-being of Logan Westin.
And besides, humans always think of Titans as unemotional, above human feelings. If they only knew.
She shifted from one foot to another, glanced down at her clipboard notes then up again at the two-way mirror that opened onto the boy's room. She'd been watching since he arrived late last night and although almost a day had passed she had no intention of leaving.
At first she'd wanted nothing to do with Gunther's manipulations but in the end the council had convinced her that she had to be there, active in Omega, for the good of the boy. And she had relented. She would do her part to protect him.
And his sister.
Unfortunately she could do nothing to protect him from what would happen over the next few days. And that's what made her furious; the ability to act to prevent more horrors from being visited on the boy. She didn't agree with what Omega had planned for either Logan or his sister, but the council had assured her both children w ould be observed and protected as best as they could. But they were clear on one thing; they couldn't move on the organization and jeopardize decades of work just for two little kids.
She suppressed a snort. The council knew well enough how important these
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