SOME MAY call me a villain. Some may call me a hero. That’s not my concern. I know I was serving justice and that’s all that mattered. If a Hero was someone who imprisoned the innocent and controlled people for their own end, I had no interest in being a Hero. And if a supervillain was someone who fought for the wrongfully accused, for the victims of a corrupt regime, for the tortured—then I am proud to be called a supervillain.

We assembled by the River, a few miles downstream from the prison. Alice had summoned the Misshapes to bid us goodbye. It was come at your own risk, but everyone came. People offered to join in but we told them no. It was especially hard to convince Rosa not to come.

Alice went over to bid Johnny goodbye. I’m guessing he got a similar speech as I did, but his involved more tears, desperate hugging, and making out. He stood resolute. But I wouldn’t have held it against him if he backed out. In fact, I kind of hoped he did. He had more to lose. He had Alice. I didn’t have anybody. But if this didn’t work, Dad would be even more crushed. He would be a shell of a man. I worried about that, and it’s why I wanted Johnny to say no, to leave.

Alice and Betty were crying. We were about to go over into the mill to set up our final plans. Hamilton came over and pulled me aside. He dragged me into the woods so nobody would see us. “I have something to show you,” he said.

He pulled me over toward a tree, stopped me short, and kissed me. I was shocked at first, but then I relaxed into it. He had soft lips, slick with paint drippings, and I felt like I could melt into him. “I wanted to make sure it was real. That it wasn’t a mistake. Please, come back alive,” he said.

He pulled off his glasses and kissed me again. When he pulled away, my face was covered in blue paint. I ran my finger through it, setting up some war paint on my cheeks in the negative space. We laughed. He wiped my face clean with a cloth he kept in his back pocket, put his glasses back on, and we went back to the group.

My heart was fluttering. Johnny looked at me with a smile. “You got a little paint on you,” he said, pointing at my chin.

I wiped it off with my hand. “Are you ready?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said back.

“And you two?” I said to Quentin and Kurt. We turned to the river. Johnny cuffed my shoulder. “Here goes nothing.” The air was still. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, like that day that Sam taught me to fly.

Johnny pressed a few buttons on his PeriMedics machine and it pumped medicine into his blood. He thrust his hand into the river. I could see him straining, his whole body a ball of muscle. I put on my earphones and waved my hands in front of the Miskatonic. The hand waving was for show, but it helped me channel my energy. The whirl started slowly. Whisps of wind and air circling each other. It grew in bulk quickly. Johnny pulled his hand out of the water and tossed a lit match into the surge.

“All yours,” he said before the river burst into flames. They danced along the surface, red and orange demons floating above waves of heat. Then it hit my whirl of air and shot up into the sky. “The most metal thing I’ve ever seen,” Kurt said.

It was an enormous vortex of bright red, like a demon’s finger. Walls of fire circled each other, turning anything into their path to tinder. One tree leaning across the river got caught in a whisp and it went from black to gray to nothing in an instant.

“Wow, sis,” Johnny said. “What the heck is that?”

“A fire tornado,” I replied calmly.The flame lit up the faces of the Misshapes, flicking yellow and red across their faces. Alice began to clap. The rest joined in.

“Go get em,” she shouted. They cheered us on in a chorus of whoops and wails. I felt the energy like a surge of love.

The tornado jumped up another notch, moving downstream. Large flames leapt into the air. I felt the glee of someone finally doing the right thing. The tornado veered West in the direction of the Luther.

Quentin was the first to lift off and, with a strong upwind, I was able to get all three of us off the ground. Three people was the most I’d ever done, but it wasn’t much more difficult than myself.

We joined Quentin in the air, following the path of the river with the fire tornado leading the way. It was my job to keep the tornado on the correct path. I couldn’t feel anything too extreme—pride, lust, disgust—I had to stay passionate and even-keeled, a difficult balance. Despite the rushing wind and surge of adrenaline the tornado was looking good. It was our way in. And our way through the giant force field that was coming into view. As it got closer, I remembered what the man in the cell next to me said. “The only way out is through fire.” And if the tornado didn’t work, nothing would.

 

THE PRISON loomed in the distance, beyond the lake, and beyond the shield. One we broke through we could fly to the roof and hunt down Mom. Soon enough we would see her. Suddenly, I heard a loud whooshing noise. I looked to my left and right, expecting an attack or some kind of projectile flying at us. But there was nothing. When I looked ahead, there were two figures heading towards the tornado. It took awhile before my eyes could adjust—these two loons went straight for the flames, nearly hiding in the glare—but when I could see, I knew exactly who it was: Sam and Freedom Boy.

They had teamed up. They had teamed up in an effort to take me down, to convince me to do something completely different. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“We’re here to help,” Sam said. “We’re here to stop you before you do something stupid. Something you can’t take back.”

“There’s another way. A better way,” said Freedom Boy. “A way of peace.”

“No. There’s not. And you can afford to say that.” He looked hurt. I didn’t care. He was part of all of this. His face grew stern.

“Sarah,” Freedom Boy said. He was yelling. There was an edge to his voice. I wondered whether he would end up fighting me if I didn’t stop.

“You can’t do this, Sarah,” Sam added.

I looked at both of them. I had been so in love with those two that I couldn’t even see straight. And now that they were here, acting like they cared about what I did, I realized something very powerful: I didn’t care what they thought. “I don’t recall asking your permission, boys. And from what I remember, you two don’t handle tornados too well.” I shot forward with Johnny, Kurt, and Quentin, our fire tornado burning molten hot magma ready to tear the Luther apart.

In the distance, I could see their eyes grow wide. The flames were reflected in them. And beyond them, the prison beckoned.