Galilee Rising(45)

Nobody moves or says a word. I roll my eyes, tug on V's jacket, and we stand. "Hi," I say, walking over to them. "I'm Joanna Fallon. Thanks for being here today."

Tempest shakes my hand. "Our pleasure. It's nice to meet you."

I glance at Liberty. "I don't know if you remember me, but--"

"Believe me, you are hard to forget Ms. Fallon," Liberty says. "Glad to see you're doing well."

"Thank you." V lightly hits me with her foot. "Um, this is Veronica Lilley with the Galilee Gazette."

"We've read some of your articles. They're very good," Tempest says.

"Good enough to grant me an interview?"

"We'll consider it," Tempest says.

I meet Nightingale's eyes, then signal over to the catering area. "Will you excuse me? I need coffee." I walk away toward the food to let V sell them on an interview. At the table, I pick up a glazed donut and start picking it apart. Sadly I'm never too nervous to eat.

On my second donut, when the last of my fellow munchers leave and the coast is clear, Nightingale steps beside me and picks up a coffee cup. "How are you?" he asks quietly.

"Holding it together," I say, stuffing my face. "Thanks for being here today. It means a lot."

"Of course. I know how hard this is for you. I--we're here for you. Always."

I flash him a smile. "Thank you."

For once Mayor Miracle is a welcome sight. He rushes into the tent with his security team close behind. Immediately, he zeroes in on the heroes. They are the ones who are going to get him national attention, not a fountain. "Oh my goodness, it is an honor to meet you," he says, shaking Tempest's hand. "Truly an honor. Thank you for agreeing to be here."

"Justice was a friend," Tempest says. "So, who speaks first?"

"The mayor, then you, then Miss Fallon who will unveil the fountain," the event planner says. "We should take our place. It's time."

"Okay," Miracle says. "Let's get out there before it starts pouring again."

I have enough time to touch-up my makeup and brush my hair before the planner makes us line up. I'm right behind Nightingale, who stares straight ahead. A few seconds before our cue his hand moves toward me, palm up. After making sure no one is watching, I entwine my fingers with his and squeeze. We pull apart before walking to the stage. Damned if I don't feel better.

The crowd goes batshit as the heroes step onstage, waving to their fans. It's stopped raining so there are easily a thousand people filling the grassy field and paths. Some hold up signs with "We miss U Justice" or "Make me your Queen, King Tempest." The mayor moves to the podium, and the rest of us sit in the chairs behind him.

On the jumbotrons scattered around the park pictures of Justin, his father, grandfather, and their alter-ego Justice fill the screen. J.R., Justin's grandfather and the first Justice, cutting a ribbon on the new wing of the museum, followed by Justice's first ever fight with Freak, the brawl that made him a superstar. Then J.T., Justin's dad, with Tessa, his mother, at some charity gala followed by Justice running out of a burning building with a woman in his arms. Justin pops up next standing on a familiar stage in a tux speaking to a crowd. It's the last photo of him ever taken at the recovery wing fundraiser exactly a year ago today. I remember that exact moment as clear as if it were happening right now. That proud smile, now a story tall, was all for me. The first pang of the day hits strong enough I sharply intake air. No more looking at pictures for me.

I sit ramrod straight and expressionless as Miracle begins his speech, which is a variation of the one he gave last year at the memorial service. He was the city's savior. We owe him a debt of gratitude. His death was tragic. We'll never forget him. It's all so trite I want to stick pencils in my ears to stop the noise. As I'm a glutton for punishment, I glance back at the jumbotron five minutes into the speech. Justice escorts James Ryder, A.K.A. Alkaline, onto the street. His greatest triumph. Little did he know that act would sign not only his death warrant but those of the two people he loved most in the universe. Ryder's handsome face appears almost smug during the perp walk. He had that same expression exactly a year ago on the hospital rooftop as I pointed a shotgun in his face right before he realized I wasn't pulling the trigger. There isn't a day I don't regret that decision. Right now he's in the bowels of Xavier Prison in a nice version of The Hole. He receives no visitors, no letters, one hour of exercise a week with shower afterwords, and from the reports I receive from my spies, he spends most of his day asleep from the tranquilizers or pacing his cell. A living hell. But just the fact he draws breath when Justin, Rebecca, and Daisy don't enrages me so much I want to punch someone. And have.