Page 53 of Son of a Witch

Shit. I’d lost him. Lost my battle to inspire him, and give him purpose and hope. Defeat at failing miserably was like a sucker punch to the gut. I needed another way to get through to him. Something to encourage him not to give up. Something that would provide him meaning and goals.

An idea rolled around in my head, and I went with it. Tor loved comics and saw his role in the world—in the Guardians—as similar to the heroes and heroines on the pages. Defeating the criminal gantii to protect the Earth. When he broke his back as a child, the superheroes got him through his darkest days, and I hoped they could do it again. Inspire him. Shake him out of his rut. Give him motivation again and make him feel like he contributed.

“Not everybody in the comics is the hero that captures the bad guy, Tor.” I brushed over his bandaged knuckles, earning his full attention. “Remember Carys in the Golden Vigilante? She was the tech nerd who created all the weapons and hacked into computers. Without her, the Golden Vigilante would never have apprehended all his enemies.”

Tor’s brows drew together as he considered my proposal. “If you’re trying to turn me into Carys, it ain’t happening, Supergirl.” Ahh. Return of my nickname. A positive sign.

“Why not?” I teased, brushing aside a limp lock of his now blond hair. “Too cool to be a nerd?”

“I’m too sexy to be a nerd.” Tor grinned, hiding his pain behind it, and my stomach squirmed.

“Maybe you’ll have to be a nerd for a while,” I said, trying to soften the blow in the gentlest way I could. “Until I get you a cure.”

Storm clouds drifted over his face and he jerked his hand away. “Astra, I’m not getting out of this chair, so stop it with the cure business, okay?”

Ouch. He should know me by now. Astra Nomical never gave up. She didn’t give in, even if Tor had. Time for a slice of Astra Nomical pie because I was about to bitch slap some sense into him. Screw Knoxe and his warning to leave Tor alone.

“Wow. I’m disappointed that you’re giving in so easily.” I furiously shoved the rest of the bandages back into the kit and viciously zipped it closed. “I remember the boy who read the comics and didn’t give up. The one who defied what the doctors told him and walked again.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying. “Where’s that boy?”

Shame pinkened his face and he buried his head in his hands. “That boy’s gone. He died in the subway.” His voice clamped around my neck like the hand of a death god, cold, unforgiving, squeezing the life from me like it had stripped Tor’s.

Silent for a long and awkward moment, I didn’t know whether to stay or go. Direct and brutal got me into trouble sometimes. Shit. Should I apologize? My attempt to spur him into action had bombed hard.

My climb off the bed was stopped by his soft words. “After the doctors discharged me from the hospital, I made the decision to visit the ward every year at Christmas time.” He smiled at the memory, wistful and nostalgic. “I dressed as Captain Octavius, a superhero who traveled the galaxy, saving planets from aliens who stole their supplies of iron ore.”

Childhood comics brought back nostalgia and delight for me, and I laughed at the memory of devouring every edition. “Read that as a kid too. The best.” Afraid to dishearten him further, I stuck clear of my earlier rousing speech. One failure was enough for the morning.

Pretty much every comic book nerd had read Captain Octavius. Classic. The series was a good entry point for kids into the comic world. I could see why it appealed to Tor, since the main hero had been in an accident, his voice box pierced by a metal bar. Surgery had removed the injured part of his larynx, leaving him with a soft, croaky voice, and he struggled to communicate. Villains always mocked him for it. Scorned him for being less of a hero. But the comic taught kids that they didn’t need to be perfect to be a hero, that someone with a disability could be brave, successful, and beat the bad guy.

Tor gave me a grim smile. “I became the captain to encourage kids to walk again, just as it had inspired me.”

God, could this man get any sweeter? I could totally picture him in his superhero uniform, cracking jokes, fist-bumping the kids, and telling them wild stories of his adventures. A totally Tor thing to do. Adorable.

“That sounds incredible, Tor.” I rubbed his knee. “Did the kids enjoy it?”

“Yeah, they loved it.” Tor’s eyes glazed over with pride.That.That was the emotion and memory that I had to tap into. His cause. His determination. His belief that he could make a difference to the kids. The difference he made to himself. I just had to find that resolute boy within him.

Maybe if I scrounged up a superhero outfit and dressed up in it, it would remind him of what was important.Yeah. Game on.Get a little Cosplay back into my world. Lighten this dark place up a bit.

“Did it inspire the kids?” I ran my hands along his leg even if he couldn’t feel it, because I needed to touch him and for him to be touched. Nothing had changed in that regard. I loved him, wheelchair or no wheelchair. “Did you tell them you walked again?”

He swallowed and glanced at his lap. “The doctors warned me not to give them false hope. Not to fill their heads with fanciful ideas.”

Seriously? Some doctors were assholes. Personality of a leather shoe. Shouldn’t be treating patients when they couldn’t relate and be personable. I’d been treated by a few like that before my Asperger’s diagnosis. “You didn’t listen to them, did you?”

He shrugged. “I had to, or they wouldn’t let me visit the kids. They didn’t want to deal with the backlash from the parents.”

I nodded absently. That made sense. Filling their heads with nonsense would break their hearts if it didn’t work. But a little hope never hurt anyone.

A little hope wouldn’t hurt Tor. I’d track down a superhero outfit and dress up for him. Restore his faith in the superheroes he loved so much. The superheroes that once gave him faith he’d walk again.

Because I’d never let go of being able to get Tor walking again. I placed my hand on his arm. He needed to find the man who believed he could overcome the odds. The man who didn’t accept the opinion of doctors who said that he’d never walk again. The man who represented the definition of a superhero. By all accounts, he was far from reconnecting with that part of himself, so it would fall to me and the rest of the team to bring them together again. My man would damn well walk again, because I wouldn’t stop until he did.

CHAPTER19

Pascal

This didn’t feel right.Anxious claws dragged down my nape. I shrugged my shoulders, fighting the sensation. With every step, the intensity increased, my body shuddering, and I quickly lost grip of my weak control.

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