The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hope let me sleep in their base in case I was being followed. She didn’t point out the cameras, but I knew they were there anyway. It’s way too high-tech not to have a camera or five in the same room where they have a bed with retractable straps. More than once a part of me imagines Hope ripping off my clothes and strapping me down to have her way with me, but the thought feels damn odd.

That’s usually my routine, though I never needed straps.

When I wake up, the pain in my head is gone and my clothes feel like they were worn just a little too long, but that’s not surprising since they were. If I had a better uniform than street clothes that might not be so bad. I just have to be sure to get a better first uniform than Sarah’s.

I keep myself metallic even though I plan on letting everyone know who I am; I want to do it on my terms. Admittedly, I am a little bit embarrassed some bitch took me down in a hotel room, and if Tunnel Vision hadn’t been there I don’t know where I’d be right now. I don’t think Hope would have been able to stop me.

Sitting up, I gaze over at a console. The readout says it’s nine o’clock. Whoever put that spiral in my head massively messed up my sleep cycle. I’d been planning to visit my aunt today, Aunt Julia, but I also hadn’t planned on last night.

I reach over and grab up my jacket, searching hesitantly through the pockets. My cell phone is there. Shit. Whoever did this, Syndicate or not, has to be able to use this to figure out my identity, and they’d also be able to bug Mom at three in the morning. Shit. I should probably let her know. I should also probably call Aunt Julia before I see her. I’m petrified to, but I really want to know more about Olivia. Mommy . . .

I reach up and rub a fingertip over one of my simple, small golden hoop earrings. I don’t really see the point in wearing a lot of jewelry, but these feel simple enough, and special enough. Just tiny little reminders . . .

The door opens sideways into the wall with a whooshing sound, and I only just barely stop myself from crushing the earring with the natural instinct to make a fist. At first the woman standing in the doorway seems unfamiliar, but on the third blink I can tell it’s Hope and not Tunnel, though I’m not sure why. Something about her looks very, very familiar, but I can’t place it. I’m half asleep so I think I have a valid excuse. She’s also demasked, street clothes in fact, holding a carafe and a plate with a couple of croissants. “I felt like going French. Plus, the trip down to the specialty coffee shop was a good excuse for my bare-faced persona to be out so early in the morning on a . . . what is this? A Saturday?”

“Your computer would know. Probably.” I run my fingers through my hair, and consider if longer or shorter sounds like it would be more attractive. I’ve always liked the ease and toughness of shorter hair. I wonder which Hope likes more. Hell, most of all I wonder who Hope is without the mask. Something about her is familiar, but more casual. The longer I stare, the more the itching feeling that I’ve seen her on TV grows a little bit stronger.

“Probably, but she’d expect me to log in, I know her. Then I’d need to go through my routine . . . and this is my day off. Mostly. I want to do some work tonight, but this early? No, no thanks.” She sets the tray and carafe down on a nearby table and moves over to a corner to find a pair of cups sticking out from what looks like a high-tech dispenser. “And don’t be impressed. I just always wanted something that looked like this. You need to refill them manually. It just looks debatably cooler.”

Grinning, I take the cup when she gets closer and then smile a little softer as she fills up my glass. “I think I like you already. Day off? Crime doesn’t take the day off.”

“Yes it does. Criminals do, anyway. Not all of them on one day, but if one of them pulls anything, I can always take a workday. My boss doesn’t pay me for overtime, but my boss doesn’t pay me regardless so I don’t care. She’s such a damn bitch.” She jerks a thumb back at herself with a satisfied grin before she fills up her own cup and takes a long slow swig. “I don’t patrol every day. Gotta look out for my more lucrative persona sometimes. I shed the blond by the way – you can melt the metal.”

Raising an eyebrow I lift up a croissant and nibble at it a little before giving her the benefit of a response. “What makes you think I can? Maybe I’m stuck like this. My living mom is silvery all the time after all.”

She takes a longer drink and raises an eyebrow. “Midas City High publishes an online photo roster of new graduates. Aurora LaSilvas skipped grad night, but they still have your yearbook photo. How you managed to not be voted ‘most likely to don a cape’ I don’t know. Kept it down at school, huh?”

Grumbling to myself under my breath I take another long sip of coffee. It’s good, really good, even better than the stuff Linda serves. I might need to find out how to get more of this stuff. “Touche.” I shrug, and on the lowering of my shoulders I let my metal recede. It doesn’t really melt away so much as hide away inside of me, even if the feeling is like stripping out of a bodysuit. A part of me used to worry when I was younger that I would wind up naked in the process, but that hasn’t happened yet. “So, the name is Aurora LaSilvas, and you?”

I know before she says anything that I’ll be embarrassed. She’s someone I recognize without recognizing, and I never pay attention to the television. I’m absolutely inept with popular culture. Maybe I could use a bit of education.

“Rebeca. Rebeca Draupnir.” She says it in the most casual way possible, and I still have to purse my lips tight to avoid spitting out my drink. “You’ve heard of me, I take it?”

“The multi-millionaire heiress Rebeca Draupnir! Who hasn’t? You’re an inventor, child prodigy, and I’ll admit that little blue dress you wore to that one award show . . . you’re a fucking super heroine?!” I knew not everyone has to be a super hero because of a dark depressing past. Mom’s original reasons were that she had nifty powers and wanted to make a difference. Still, she’s a wealthy heiress who has both parents alive. It feels like a twist on an old fairytale.

She just rolls her eyes and chews. “Last time I checked. I throw on a wig, touch up my eyebrows, and throw on a sexy white ensemble that I think is better than that blue dress, and save lives using an invention or two I don’t think the world at large is quite ready for. It’s not every day I meet an idol’s daughter.”

My cheeks burn profusely. If I need to be so easy to make blush, at least I can tell. “But nobody’s idol quite yet. At least I’d hope not, I haven’t really achieved anything yet besides pissing some people off. Well, a bank robbery averted, and I saved one life for sure when I busted those jewel thieves.”

Now that I’m actually awake, and fleshy again, I can take some time to look around. Hope—Rebeca has blue eyes. But I already knew that about Rebeca Draupnir. Hell, I didn’t really fantasize about much that wasn’t Sylvia when I could control it, but she was one of the women I didn’t bother to resist imagining when I saw her on TV. I never had a crush on her or anything, but she was on my imaginary celebrities-I-would-make-an-exception-for list.

This base of hers – theirs – is very well furnished. The computer system looks so advanced. It has a headset for that nifty VR or whatever interface that got big a couple years ago. I bet it’s hooked into so many databases loaded with so much information that half of it would make my head spin. Mom would love this place.

“Hey, your age I wasn’t doing anything even near as cool as that. I was putting the finishing touches on the plans for this place, and setting up the dummy corporations that financed it. Just FYI, we’re underground. Only about nine other people besides you and me know this place is here—that can speak English. If you pay illegal workers well enough and treat ‘em right they don’t go around telling stories. That’s an old family secret.” Rebeca grins and finishes off her cup. “But you said you were down here to meet your family, right? The Whitners?”

“Not in so many words. You looked them up, too, didn’t you?” I try not to sound unhappy, because I can hardly blame her for being thorough. Fact is, before Olivia there wasn’t much worth looking up about the Whitners. Since Olivia, there hasn’t been anything worth looking up about the Whitners.

She nods, and her cheeks turn just rosy pink enough for it to be visible. It feels so strange. I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t recognize her, but I don’t know who would have guessed. It feels so strange to be on a first-name basis with her, though it isn’t as if I mind. She opens her mouth to speak and then pauses as if to gather her thoughts. She must really put on a mask for the media. I admit, I didn’t know a lot about her, but what little I knew of her makes it very odd to think of her needing time to stop and collect her thoughts.

Once she’s collected her thoughts, her voice comes out crisp and confident. “Yes, I did. I’m not exactly proud of sniffing around good people with nothing smelling fishy, but I just wanted to make sure everything checked out. Going to see your grandparents, or your aunt?”

“My Aunt. Julia. I’ve never even spoken with her before over the phone. I was going to, but things kept getting in my way. Then I wound up . . . robbing a jewelry store, right?” She nods and I run my fingers through my hair with a sigh. “Damn. But I’d rather not get too much more nervous. Meeting my mom’s family . . . Did you ask the others if they were okay with me joining you? I don’t want to make any of them mad at you.”

“Tunnel agreed right away. Which is unusual, so I guess she likes your spunk, or knew I’d pester her for a year. Psiona is willing to give you a chance. Flower . . . you’ll see. I don’t think she could turn away anyone.” Rebeca smiles, but it looks more like the way Hope smiles. “If you want, I could give you a ride. I wanna hold onto your wheels for a little longer. They could be bugged.”

She still seems trusting maybe to a fault, but this does make me feel a little more confident that she’s a real heroine. Maybe she just wants to check it to make sure there are no Syndicate bugging devices, but I’m betting from her tone that she wants to make sure I don’t run off after making use of her hospitality. Mind-controlling one of their own for Hope to ‘save’ would be a perfect way to infiltrate her group.

Does thinking like a super villain mean it’ll be easier to stop them, or harder to stop myself from becoming one of them?

Time will tell that one, I guess.

“Sounds good, on both accounts, at least if it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to be seen with a young newly graduated girl with super-parents.” Not flirting with her feels like it would be some sort of crime. Plus, I admit that I don’t know the first thing about keeping an identity secret.

“We’ll be fine. It wouldn’t exactly be a first for the media. I’m known as a bit of a cape lover, and for having a thing for young women. At least you’re legal.” Rebeca winks, and it sends a shudder down my spine. “I’ve actually sent in anonymous tips to a few less reputable media outlets. It makes the more respectable ones not as willing to run the stories they might come across with legitimate evidence. Creative hyperbole.”

The thought of Hope, Rebeca, and Bat Boy all being on the same cover makes me burst into giggles. I’ve heard of cape chasers, or cape lovers, but the thought of a super heroine with a super heroine fetish makes me grin. Why dress up if you don’t like what you see in the mirror, I guess. No one says you can’t try to save the world in jeans and a t-shirt.

At least that’ll make one small part of my familial visit easier. I really need to find a way to have a set of wheels as Aurora. When my mom was Lucia Colloten she took the bus. I’d like to avoid that.

Rebeca’s face turns a little concerned, and that’s when I realize my face is a little scrunched up. “Maybe you should call her before you show up. It couldn’t hurt for her to be ready for you, could it? Surprise guests always get on my nerves even when I’m overjoyed to see them. But that happens a lot more once you’ve been in our shared business a bit longer.”

“I should, but I need to just go and see her. If she’s not home, I’ll just wait for her to get home. I’ll just choke over the phone. In person . . . I’m better at speaking even if the words aren’t perfect.” She doesn’t need to know I’m afraid I’ll call Mom and ask her to take me home, that I’m in over my head, and that I miss Sylvia so much. Enough, that I’d go to New York and be a body guard if she wants me to be just so I can be close to her.

Once I get used to it out here, I’ll be fine. Sylvia was right. We knew it could never last. I need to grow up. Electrum has a syndicate to stop and super friends to . . . be friendly with.

“Makes sense. If you need a place to stay, I can help with that until you get on your feet. Don’t hesitate to ask.” She checks her cup, and finishes any that she hasn’t already before mowing through another hunk of flaky croissant. “Should we be off? I try not to linger here too much when I’m not in uniform.”

Sarah always described it as a job, but she always described it as well . . . a dream job. Rebeca talks about it like it was just another day job that could greatly reduce your chances for survival while also paying you nothing. I can tell she’s dedicated, but it’s so strange. I know after the whole mess in Midas badged-supers programs got some horrible press, but I can see the allure and I almost wonder why Hope doesn’t, too. I don’t think they’d insist on standardized uniforms, but it would be different all the same.

Nodding, I mimic her own finishing-off and stand up. “The sooner, the better, I could lose my nerve. I feel a little more aware of my age at the moment than I like. So, limo, jet, how are we going to get there? I’m sure you have the address memorized . . .”

Rebeca grins a little in a way-too-proud-of-herself sort of way. “Oh, you know it. It’s the reason I’m known for being even half as smart as I really am – a near-eidetic memory. I’ll show you.” She clicks a couple of buttons on one of the displays, and a hologram rises out of a panel.

“This, is Rebeca’s set of wheels. I don’t find it practical for my heroing, though that’s what I designed it for . . . but it’s a good ol’ shovelhead. Redesigned from the ground up for fuel-efficiency, speed, control, and flashiness. I decided to go for the purple paint job to get as far from white without going black. She’s a real beaut, isn’t she?” She is, and she makes me miss my golden mount like nothing else. “I keep a spare helmet down here just for occasions like these. Some day we might need to hit a private course together.”

She’s a woman after my own heart even if she’s way smarter than I am, way more level-headed than I am, and cuter, but that just makes her more of a dream girl.

“By the way, I’d recommend using that second ID I found in the secret compartment of your wallet. Aurora Whitner doesn’t pull up in any searches linking back to Midas. Whoever got you that ID . . . I want to meet them.” Lida. She was the one who helped Mom establish Lucia. There’s no one else I can imagine. She must have created the compartment, and materialized the ID in it without me ever knowing it.

That’s a very Lida thing to do.

Nodding, I grin and catch the helmet she tosses me from an electronically sealed locker. It’ll feel weird to wear a helmet, but if she’s driving, I’m not going to argue that I could always just go metallic. Then again, I need to look out for Aunt Julia.

“But there’s just one catch. I like what I know of you so far, and I know you by name and reputation . . . but I want to wait until the five of us go on a few patrols together before giving away just where this is, just in the event the Syndicate is using you as a lure. I wouldn’t put it past them.” Rebeca sighs and forces a smile. “So if it’s all right, I’d like to well . . . just make it so you wont remember where this is. You can say no, but I admit I wouldn’t be very happy about it.”

The thought does make me wince. I just got someone out of my head, and now she wants to go back in there. Mom had to deal with lots of mental invasions, but not generally by people worth letting inside of her mind. Tunnel went into my head and I feel okay. I can trust Hope.

“Okay . . . How do you want to do it . . .?” All of the ideas that come to mind involve a decided lack of clothing, so I doubt I’ll be quite that lucky.

“I have a device or two that I can’t quite get to work when I miniaturize it, and I think one of those would do the trick perfectly. The VR helmet. It’s not really virtual reality – but it can work a similar effect. Ever used it before? I’d be surprised if Midas High didn’t have it in their classrooms yet.” Something makes me think that the outside world has a very different view of Midas than I do.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Midas High was lucky it had computers made in the last ten years. It’s got a website, but I had one of those once. Neither mother I grew up with saw a point in paying that much, so this’ll be my first time.”

My cheeks burn hotter and I fight to resist groaning at myself.

Rebeca thankfully decides to go easy on me, and just smiles. “It’s very simple, really. I’ve been trying to use it for well . . . rather cliché purposes that rise a bit above mere entertainment. Training, testing, things like that . . . standard VR involves creating an avatar to represent you, but my little tweaks make it so it’s more like well . . . it’s really happening. If I can manage to perfect it, I think there are some great applications for it.”

“But for now?” I don’t want to admit it, but I’m feeling really anxious. It isn’t as if Sylvia never controlled me before the time on the couch. We had a lot of fun with it. I just haven’t felt anyone else ever do it with my consent, and Sylvia’s actions are still so fresh in my mind.

“For now. Sorry. For now, we’ll put the helmet on your head, and you’ll just let it do its thing. The only woman I’ve read about making it truly like an open link used . . . additional hardware. I don’t think you’re interested in wires to the brain.”

I shudder and shake my head. Wires plus cerebrum equals no. I wouldn’t even do that if Sylvia asked me to. Sarah told me enough about Mind Bore.

Even Rebeca doesn’t look happy at the thought. “The helmet is really comfy though. It’ll run through its program, and I’ll give it the very simple command that you won’t remember where here is as soon as we get on my bike. It’ll be fairly firmly engraved with programming in there to reverse the memory block, so once we get a little closer you won’t have it anymore. Sound okay?”

“Works for me. I think my final exams were worse.” I’m sure it’s obvious how uncomfortable I feel with this process. I’m also sure I’m not the first with that sentiment.

Rebeca lifts the helmet up from the table and sets it down over my head. It feels nearly weightless, and like Rebeca said, very comfortable. I adjust it a little to line up the screen with my eyes, and gasp as it feels like a focused beam of light shines right into the center of both eyes.

It’s so bright, so intense, but it lessens slowly, and in its place the world is . . . changed.

All around me, there are no walls, under me there’s no floor, but instead everything is a distant twisting psychedelic swirl of golden, silver, and amethyst light. It’s so indescribable, so . . . alien, but somehow familiar. The feeling is so warm and soft. It feels wonderful to be floating without having to be metallic.

All I can feel is the raw color shifting and swirling around me. It’s almost as if it’s pouring itself into my eyes as I stare, rapt, mouth unable to close. It looks so beautiful. It makes me so weak. I’ve never felt so weak, or so powerless. The sensation is amazing. I could see people forgetting to breathe while feeling this amazing. My chest feels tight, almost as if I had, but instead the feeling is more like a bright tingling warmth. It feels almost like being in love, or being kissed, or being filled with pure energy.

I feel so alive, but so . . . muted. Subdued. Tranquilized. I feel simple. That might sum it up best of all – simple. I feel simple, and I like it. I love it. It’s full of everything I love with none of the interlocked worries.

I can’t remember ever feeling this perfectly me before. Uninhibited. Unrestrained.

The colors want something though, they need something. For a moment I can almost swear that part of the light stretches out towards me and kisses me. When I try to kiss back I feel my lips move, but I don’t feel my lips pushing back against the kiss. Hands slide along my thighs, and when I try to arch into their touches my legs move but I don’t feel the pressure.

It almost feels like there must be two of me and the me being touched isn’t the me that’s able to move. Something about that feels like it should worry me, but I can’t remember why. It doesn’t linger for long either way. Soon the feeling is gone and forgotten. I’ve never felt the absence of something be so amazing. Usually loss is something frightening, terrifying, but not now. Now I just have to do the one thing the colors want.

The colors just want me to be a good girl, to be good for the woman who gave me the colors. I sigh dreamily as I feel more of that light sink through my eyes and into my soul. Nothing this amazing should be this easy, but it is.

Hands cup my breasts and knead. I can feel my nipples harden, the lights swirling around them, cupping my breasts, squeezing them, but I can’t arch into them. It somehow feels more firm than the lights, more . . . solid, but the lights make it so hard to think. I’m too weak to figure out what’s wrong, or why I love it so much. I scream as one of those hands claws down my body, stroking along my inner thigh.

“All you need to do is not remember where this lovely little place is located until Hope is ready for you to remember. Let the lack of remembering be a conscious action, an action that fills you with a tender thrill. Let it feel safe. Let it draw you closer to her.” The voice is so far removed from my own thoughts, my own reality, that I can’t even think of how I should respond besides to obey.

It’s so simple to ask, and I can feel the pleasure flowing between my legs even if I can’t grind into the hand touching me. I can feel how simple it will be to obey as lips kiss and suckle along my neck. I’ve never felt so whole. Nothing is missing.

“You’re safe with Hope, Aurora. You’re safe. Aurora is safe. Let Hope protect you. Let Hope look after you.” I can’t even remember who Hope is, but I know that I will, and when I do I’ll do what the colors want. I’ll let her protect and look after me. If she has anything to do with the light I’ll let her do whatever she wants. I’m sure it’ll be amazing. This is so wonderful, beyond perfection in a way that makes all of the past events of my life seem pale and unimportant – or would if I could remember anything before the color.

I can only assume Aurora and I are the same person.

Teeth nibble across my collarbone, and I moan limply and helplessly. “I’ll forget . . . let Hope protect me . . . let Hope look after me . . .” Another moan rises up louder than my own and I shudder in the pleasure. Not of my own volition, but a shudder is still a shudder.

“Always . . . say it . . . you’ll always let her protect you . . . always look after you . . . You’ll forget whatever she needs you to . . . to keep you safe, to keep you feeling good, happy, sweet . . .” The voice sounds desperate. It needs me to obey, almost as much as I need to obey. I don’t know how she thinks that I could refuse. The color makes everything so much of a paradise that it’s all I can do to obey its every request.

“Alwa-ays!” Teeth nibble on my nipple, tugging it, and I have to fight to hold back a sharp scream. The scream beats me, my will too weak, too fluid, too caught up in the colors, and I want to feel it burst free too much. “Always, for you . . .”

The colors must hear me because they moan too, and fingers feel along my clit as I whine out in response. “Also can’t remember your special color time when you aren’t experiencing it . . . makes it stop working, less effective, not as good. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Forget anything Hope needs me to . . .” The voice could be Hope, but it’s the colors for sure. Doing what they want is simple. It’s a shining point of perfection in my helplessly dazed mind.

“Good . . . then just sit back . . . and let the colors give you a nice little massage.” The hands and lips don’t stop for a long time. Fingers grind, stroke, twist, lips suckle, nibble, lick, bite . . . and I just savor and enjoy it all. I don’t have much of a choice right now, and I love it. Nothing has ever been so perfect. The colors keep touching me and touching me, and I keep on moaning.

One of the worst side effects of being nabbed by that spirally bitch as soon as I got here, is that now I have absolutely no clue where I am. I know there’s a secret base somewhere near where we started, but even if I remembered that I doubt that I’d be able to find it again. It’s somewhere, and I guess that’s all that matters. Where? I couldn’t say. It’s thrilling somehow, and surprisingly I feel perfectly safe with even Rebeca’s craziest sharp turns. She’s a really good driver, so I guess that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to me. I’ve just never felt so safe with anyone so quickly. I was never big on new people before.

The only strange thing is that I could have sworn that I woke up sometime around nine, and when we left the clock said it was noon. I guess I fell back asleep.

When Rebeca lets me off, Julia isn’t home, and the number I have for her is her house number. I want to call Sarah, but I don’t at the same time. Midas wasn’t like this at all. It was big, but it was . . . different. It felt more established, whereas this place feels more . . . untamed.

I feel untamed, now that I’m not with Rebeca.

Julia must do pretty well for herself. She has a house, for one thing. It’s not palatial or anything so extreme, but it’s not just an apartment or a condo. Sitting on the front stoop gets old really fast, and my clock is just a taunting cellphone.

I’m in deep, but I can still back out now. There’s still time to withdraw. It’ll haunt me forever, but I could. If I get much deeper I’ll lose that option. Maybe I should visit Auntie Panny in Dolores . . .

“Sarah told me you wouldn’t call.” Julia smiles down at me, her eyes glittering a bright hazel brown. “I told her it was okay, that I’d just expect you to be waiting on the stoop just like Liv would. She said you’d get a kick out of that.” I don’t know how I know, but I know it’s her. She’s shorter than me, a little more voluptuous than I am, but she has the same reddish-brown hair that Olivia has in every picture I’ve ever seen of her. “I hoped we’d meet some day.”

Just seeing her makes tears well in my eyes, and I jump up to cling to her tighter than I’ve clung to anyone in what feels like a lifetime. “Aunt Julia . . .! I was almost afraid you wouldn’t be here . . .”

“Come on. I just went out to get the paper and some milk. Let me sit down and we can reminisce as if we had old times.” Her voice is so . . . right. It’s so what it should be. I can’t stop myself from sniffling as I cling a little tighter and nod. “Your mother sent me pictures, but I still can’t believe it.”

My tears make it impossible to see anything but colors, so I just shut my eyes and hold tight. She’s more than just a link to Mommy right now, she’s also the first person to hold me since I left Midas. I was so tempted to do what Mom did on her journeys as Patina, but I just couldn’t go place to place finding someone to love just long enough to get to the next town. It’s just not who I am. Being this close to family though, it feels really, really nice.

I’ll have to keep my identity well-hidden. Repaying this with the Syndicate knocking on her door is a gut-wrenching thought. I’ll need to call and thank Lida a thousand times over for that ID. Then again, that would point right back to Julia.

“Can’t believe what?” My voice must be only barely audible through my blubbering, but I just focus on holding her tight. Feeling her against me is heaven. Not a dirty heaven like with Sylvia, just a . . . right sort of heaven. Maybe even the regular kind, if there’s a place in it for someone like me. I doubt it, but a girl can dream.

“You look so much like her when she was your age. A little taller, brown eyes instead of gray, but otherwise just about the same. There’s a lot of resemblance of your other mother in you too, but I see the Olivia in you a lot louder.” She squeezes me tight, rocking me just enough, and I can’t quite stop sniffling. There are too many reasons to cry. “I think you need a longer hug than I can give you standing up. Let me get inside, and I’ll hold you and won’t let go until you ask me to, all right?”

She’d be a great mother. She’s not mine, but it would be a shame if she wasn’t anyone’s.

I nod a little and wipe my eyes. “Okay . . . I’m sorry I never asked about you before, I just . . . it was too much. I want to know everything but I’m all choked up and I . . . want my mother to be here.”

“I . . . I can’t hope to understand, but I can tell you a lot about her. I can tell you how much she loved you. She used to call me from Midas, and she always had some new detail about something you’d done, or how much she was waiting for you to be born, or . . . She loved you. You’re named Aurora because you were her sun. You were her everything.” Julia’s voice is so sincere, so powerful, so . . . I can believe her. When Sarah said things like that it just wasn’t the same.

My tears don’t flow any slower, but I do smile like an idiot. That’s something, right?

“I . . . thanks.” Without any other words I reach out and grab the plastic bag that contains her milk. “I can help with this. I’ll just follow after you.” I can see again. Even if I’m still crying a little, pushing the tears out of my eyes is a lot easier.

She smiles and leads the way in. It’s a nice house. Probably a two-bedroom from the look of it. It’s well furnished, the paintings on the wall are posters inside of fancy frames. She has plants, and most of them aren’t flowering, which I’m guessing has something to do with the cat chewing on a petal as we step in. It feels roomy but full of quirky personality. I like it.

Julia rushes over to her cat, gently bapping the end of its nose as I move into the kitchen to shove the milk into the fridge. It’s a nice, cozy place. It makes me feel a little more at home to be inside of a real house and not just a hotel room or a secret underground base. I just might have a stronger connection to my identity than Sarah after all. She always told me to be careful not to let the alias become the name, but with how nice this feels I don’t think I’ll need to worry about that.

Julia follows me into the kitchen and smiles as I close the fridge. “You look rejuvenated. I think you really needed to cry.” She doesn’t know how right she is.

“This is a great place. Feels homey. Do you live here alone or is there a uhm . . . anyone else in your life?” I never know if I should ask Mister or Misses. To me Mister just feels weird, but whenever I say that people make jokes about me being from Midas and roll their eyes. I’ll admit I don’t get the joke.

“Was for awhile, but he decided that if forty is the new twenty, he wanted to date a twelve-year-old.” Julia rolls her eyes and then laughs a little at her own bad joke. I laugh with her, and even though it’s genuine it sounds a little desperate. It’s always easiest to cry after laughing. “And Mia, your cousin, she’s on a road trip across the country before college in the fall . . . though she’ll be going to Midas City U.”

I have a cousin. It feels strange to have a cousin your age that you didn’t even know existed. My first curiosity should not be if she’s cute. It really shouldn’t. Witches fuck their cousins. I might have some of their . . . tastes . . . but I’m not like that. I’m not even sleeping with my sister anymore.

My aunt smiles and motions over to one of the two chairs pulled up to her kitchen table. “Would you like to sit down? We could sit back out on the couch if you’d like, but these chairs are comfortable, too.”

“Sure. That sounds nice.” I take a seat and wiggle to get more comfortable. “So . . . You have a daughter, huh? You’re probably a great mom.” I try not to say that sounding sad, but it’s tinted with an edge of it anyway. I had wonderful mothers growing up. Valerie always treated me like her daughter. Sarah was wonderful.

“Mmhm! She’s your age, as I’m sure you guessed. She managed to only get Frank’s good traits, even if she got all of my worst. A good kid, a little too brainy for her own good . . . but she’s a real sweetie. I hope you two end up meeting sooner or later, too. I barely know you, but I think you’d get along. She was always fascinated by having a super heroine for an aunt.” Julia grins and pulls down a bowl before filling it with cereal.

I hope I meet her too. Maybe what I need is just more exposure to normal life. Even my normal life was never very normal. I’m sure it’s fucked me up more than I know. “I’d love to. It feels like I know you already, or like you know me. I’m not sure which. Maybe both.”

She nods a little and pulls out the milk to pour over the cereal. “You remind me a lot of Olivia when she was your age. It’s something about the way you stand, or the way you look like you could grin wider than the sun or cry in an instant. Olivia was a really emotional teenager. Spunky, but emotional. She was always just so honest and open that people would flock to her. People always wanted to help her, or be helped by her. You know the type?”

“Yeah . . .” I don’t think I’m enough like that, but I try. I was always hiding something before. Now that I’m not with Sylvia anymore, I won’t need to lie so much anymore. That ought to help. “She sounds really special.”

“She was. She was really special. I’ve never met anyone quite like her.” She tears up a little as she pushes a spoon into her cereal. “I really wanted to meet you, too. Your mother and I both proposed you coming here, or Mia and I going to visit you, but things always came up and then we fell out of touch and I had my hands full after the divorce being a single mom.”

It probably didn’t help that for years the merest mention of her name made me burst into tears or become furiously upset. It always made me feel so small that Sarah wasn’t like I was when she never even knew who Lida was. I would have hated Sylvia if she didn’t miss her Sarah in a way that felt so much the same even if it was worlds apart. It never felt all that different to me.

I just nod and stare down at her table. Could I ever live a normal life? Am I capable of it? Am I just pursuing this life for my mothers’ sakes?

Julia interrupts my inner monologue and I’m infinitely thankful. “You can use Mia’s room for awhile, until you find something better. It’s been kinda lonely here and I get the feeling you’ll be pretty busy. Did you really stop a bank robbery? That’s really pretty damn impressive.”

I blush furiously and then slowly nod. “Yeah . . . I did. It barely took any effort though. But one thing I really . . . It’d be safer for you if you didn’t tell anyone, even Mia, that I’m Electrum. I have a fake ID that says I’m Aurora Whitner, and the name isn’t very easily traceable unless you already have a very good idea of what you’re looking for. If I stay here, I have to make sure that you’re safe.”

“Of course, sweetie. It’s just us right now, though. We can say anything we need or want to. I promise I won’t tell Mia. The way you say that sounds like someone might already be trying to find you.” Damn she cuts right to the point. I guess bluntness is a Whitner trait.

“Yes. There are some less than friendly people I managed to rile up, and I suspect they’d love a chance to get to me through you.” I almost tell her it’s the Syndicate, but the less I tell her the safer she’ll be. I need to do everything for someone willing to take me into her home the same day she meets me.

She nods with a knowing smile. “Olivia had a tendency of riling up bad people too. Remind me some day to tell you about her early exploits. For now, you should give your mother a call. I doubt you have the whole trip.”

“You bet! So do I call you Auntie Julia or—” Before I can finish my thought she has an eyebrow raised.

“No. You call me Julia, or Julie if you’re feeling playful. Just don’t call me Juju. Livie used to call me that and one of the few perks of not hearing from her in so long is that she finally stopped.” Somehow, coming from her that doesn’t bother me. If anyone, even Sarah, said something like that I’d get so pissed off. I’d be embarrassed and guilty later, but the immediate reaction would be rage. This time, I feel pretty damn relatively calm. I think living here for awhile is just what I need.

I feel a smile pulling itself over my face in spite of my own lingering emotions, and I look up to Julia. “I’ll try not to pick up where she left off, but before I call up the moms . . . could you tell me a little bit more about my mother?”

Julia brings her cereal over to the table and sits down nodding with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. “You bet. Like the time Olivia posed as a mannequin to stop a thief with a deatomizer . . .”