I searched the faces in the sunny back garden of the cafe, before spotting the one I was looking for. Grace was at a table nestled in the far corner, a little removed from the general business all around, which was thoughtful of her as always. Her curly black hair shone in the sun, which also glowed on her warm dark skin, and I smiled excitedly when I saw her. Grace Beauchamp was a beautiful person, a great friend and an even better literary agent. As I got closer, I noticed that in the shadows beside her sat a man I'd never seen before; it was certainly not her husband, Stu.

Grace's gold-green hazel eyes sparkled when she spotted me. "Well hooray, my favourite client is here! Which reminds me - Jackson," she turned to the man beside her, "remember that you are to have no favourites. At least, not yet." She grinned with the air of a seasoned master to an apprentice.

As it turned out, that's basically what it was. She nodded towards him. "Kenna Jones, this is Jackson Ryder. He's new at the agency, a total greenhorn, and he'll be shadowing me for a couple months while he learns the ropes. Jackson, as you know, this is Kenna, otherwise known as Kennedy Jacobs, one of our successful authors with only two books under her belt. Well, working on a third now, aren't we Kenna?" She gave me a sharp look, and suddenly I was under the microscope. Grace was sweet and loyal, and she was also fierce as hell when she wanted to be. It's what gave her the edge in the business.

"That is what we're here to talk about!" I smiled sweetly at her, knowing her too well to be intimidated.

Jackson, however, did look a bit intimidated. He recovered well though, standing up to shake my hand and flashing me a bright, white smile. I studied him covertly, taking in his tall build and chestnut coloured hair, worn swept over to one side in a similar style to Ewan's. He had strange eyes, a deep, flecked amber brown that reminded me of a pair of amber earrings I'd once got from Poland.

"It's really great to meet you, Miss Jones. I read the Song of the Storm, and I was really impressed by it. The characters, the things they could do, they all felt so real."

His enthusiasm felt real too, and I couldn't help but smile back warmly. "Thank you, Jackson, that's music to any writer's ears."

Grace, however, was more critical. "Jackson, we talked about this. Ms Jones. Not Miss. What if she was Mrs Jones?"

He looked embarrassed, and when he met my eye, I was too, suddenly. "Okay Grace, but I'm not," I said firmly. "That's an old fashioned lesson, and what's more, it's a moot point, because I'd prefer you call me Kenna." I directed this last bit at Jackson, who gave me a little smile.

Grace was looking between us then, and her face suddenly cracked into what was to me an unmistakably evil grin. "That's right, Kenna, you're definitely a Miss Jones. Jackson, second rule is that you always listen to what the client wants." She leaned back into her chair comfortably, looking rather pleased with herself.

I, on the other hand, thought it would be handy if my own chair would swallow me whole, and hoped fervently that poor Jackson didn't know Grace well enough to have caught on to her innuendo.

When he smiled and said, "Kenna it is then," I still wasn't sure if he did.

The rest of the meeting passed on more mundane terms, with Grace helping me to sketch out some basic timelines after I'd told her about what I'd written that day. That didn't stop me from cornering her after she'd sent Jackson back to the office ahead of her, and giving her a smack on the shoulder.

"Oh my god, Grace, you're so unprofessional! That poor new guy, getting stuck with you as a mentor!"

"Owww, Kenna, jeez you're strong." She rubbed her shoulder and I felt a little guilty since she didn't know how right she was. "And I'm sorry, but he obviously noticed what a babe you are because he has eyes and a brain, and I think I'm secure enough in my love for my own husband to say that he is damn cute too, so I couldn't help myself!"

For what felt like the fifth time that day, I rolled my eyes. If I wasn't careful, I was going to pull something. "This is a new one out of your many, many setup attempts. A newbie agent and a client? As I said, Ms Beauchamp, un-pro-fession-al." I complained.

She patted my head. "One day you will thank me, friendo. I'm just trying to share the bliss, you know?"

I knew. Her attempts to get me to go out with numerous men of her choosing had ramped up considerably since she married Stu the year before. Obviously, she considered me her agent in both work and life. Not that I could honestly be too annoyed with her. Stu was a kind, laid back guy who had quickly become a supportive friend as well, and I'd no doubt she had good taste. I just wasn't ready, and she knew why. I did have to admit that I'd found Jackson charming company that afternoon, though.

With a quick hug, and a promise not to be too weird around Jackson when I saw him again, I was allowed to leave her and make my way home in the waning evening sun.

What I saw when I finally walked through the door made my mood plummet. Groaning, I dropped my bag onto my writing desk with a resigned thunk, and turned towards the source of my annoyance.

"Hi Gareth. What are you doing here?"

The man leaning against the wall beside Seb responded with a lazy smile. He was in his late thirties, with a muscular frame covered by a well-tailored suit. His black hair was slicked back, only hinting at grey around the temples. Glittering blue eyes met my own.

"Kenna, charming as always. I've come to brief your brother on what happened at the bank today. You know, we certainly could have used your talents out there." He looked at me intently, but the lazy smile didn't fade.

"Gareth, you know the answer to that, as you've known it over and over for the last ten years. Save it. Looked like things turned out fine out there with Cobalt and Shadow." I spat their names out, grinding my teeth and wishing that he'd stop making housecalls. I knew they were never only about Seb.

"Yes, as I was saying to Sebastien before you arrived, we ended up not needing as many Supers to handle the situation as we thought. They only brought one Villain, and while she was strong, she was hardly a match for the team we brought. Regrettably, she escaped, unlike her criminal compatriots. I will say that she's not one we've seen before, and as the media has discovered, she wields control over fire. A one trick pony, I think. In future, Sebastien, listen to your spidey-senses when they tingle. We got lucky today. This is why we could always use more Supers." His eyes flicked to me. "Who knows how quickly we could have wrapped things up with a telekinetic and conduit on the team. Saved more lives."

I clenched my jaw. He will not manipulate me. "First of all, Gareth, nobody died today. Everyone was basically okay. Secondly, I know you're using your special persuasion powers on me and, as always, I'm immune. Now back off, and talk to the Super you came here for. You have plenty of off-duty Supers at any given time, getting sucked into the abyss of adoration and worship. Just appreciate Seb, because he's the best Super you've got."

Stalking off, I heard him murmur behind me, "One of the best, certainly."

Childishly, I fled the apartment and slammed the door behind me. I marched up the stairs to the rooftop garden, where one half was for the private use of the penthouse suite. The fence around the private area was covered in vines and surrounded by hedging, keeping it completely out of view of any nosy neighbours. Sitting on a bench, I closed my eyes and let the last of the evening light bathe my face, breathing deeply. I hated the predatory gleam in Gareth's eyes when he talked about my abilities. He knew a lot about what I could do, which I would forever regret.

I reopened my eyes, and took in the garden around me. A small tree was filtering the rays of the sun, casting dappled shadows beside me. Lifting my hand, I focussed on the branches of the tree, and slowly twisted my fingers around. The little branches and leaves followed suit, bending and swirling with the motions of my fingers, making little rustling sounds. A nearby rose bush had scattered its petals on the paved path below. I swept my hands up and over me, and the petals rushed into the air and danced above my head. Then, I let them fall over me like soft, pink snow.

Calm washed over me, and I felt the energy of it settle in, warm and smooth. Manipulating energy was secondary to my telekinesis, which is what Gareth had meant when he'd called me a conduit. It felt good to let the powers run through me. I was strong enough not to need my hand signals to move things, but it was fun to do it and watch them copy my motions. For a little while longer, I sat completely still, just breathing deeply.

Later, when I reemerged in the apartment, I found Seb watching TV in the living room, alone. His voice was guarded.

"Hey Kenna, dinner's ready for you on the stove." Clearly, I'd lost track of time on the roof.

I sighed wearily. "Thank you, Seb. It smells delicious." Rationing myself out a large helping, I perched next to him on the couch. I knew he was worried about my mood, so I tipped my head and let it rest on his shoulder for a moment. "Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't say things like that about the Supers in front of you. You know I have nothing but respect for what you do."

He pulled me in for a one-armed hug. "I know, sis. It's just tough to have the two sides of my life clash like this, though of course I'm used to it by now. I should have warned you that Gareth was over, since he always can't help but pester you. He's a bit of a douche but he is a good recruiter and manager of Supers. Not that I think he's entirely wrong about you and your abilities." At my sidelong look, he threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, I'll say no more, promise!"

We sat while I finished my dinner in a reasonably comfortable silence punctuated by laughter at the sitcom we had on. It seemed we were both enjoying a little break from reality, as Super as it may be.

When I was done, I stood and stretched. "I think I'll go for a quick walk, clear my head."

Concern flashed across Seb's face. "It's dark already, Kenna. Are you sure you'll be safe?" We both knew more about the seedy underbelly of Sapphire than we'd like to.

Though I appreciated his concern, I snorted. "I think I'll be okay, Seb. I'm not exactly fragile." I knew that I could handle most things I'd encounter, particularly petty criminals, who were the most likely. Villains, the only ones I really needed to worry about, tended to go for more big picture evil, not picking on a random girl out for a walk through a pretty safe neighbourhood. Grinning at him, I added, "I could probably even kick your ass if I wanted to."

He grinned back. "Maybe 1 out of 3. That's all I'll give you. Call if you need anything, and be home soon."

Already on my way to my room to change, I stuck my tongue out at him. "You sound like Dad."

This time I was not responsible for the pillow that flew through the air, narrowly missing my head before I closed the door.

Soon, I was out the door once more. The night was still fairly warm, so I'd left my jean shorts on and only thrown a hoodie on as an extra layer.

Strolling along the boulevard, I pulled out my phone and did what I'd really gone for a walk to do; I called my parents. After a couple of rings, my mum picked up, as I knew she would.

"Hey sweetheart." Her voice was soothing as always.

"Hi Ma, how are you and Dad?" I held off launching into the complaint until I'd at least checked in with them.

"We're fine, love. Your dad is working on a big case. Milo says hi, too." I giggled at that - Milo was my parents' big, goofy golden retriever and an excellent snuggler. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" Her mum-tuition must have been tingling with the first ring.

"Ugh," I sighed, "Gareth came to the apartment today. Mostly to talk to Seb, but also to pressure me for the 8 millionth time to join his Super team."

"Oh, honey." The words were full of sympathy.

"He tried to use his stupid persuasion on me too, but he's still not cracked me. Doesn't he realise it only makes me more determined never to say yes to him? I wasn't into being herded into his program when I was sixteen, and I've yet to change my mind. I still don't know how Seb has stayed so normal through all that training, and all the years as a secret celebrity."

"Your brother is strong, just like you are. Stay strong, sweetie, and listen to what your intuition tells you. That's about all I can offer for advice. And try not to be too hard on Sebastien. As always, we are so glad that this never drove you apart after the first few months. They were tough on all of us."

I sighed again. We all remembered when Seb was recruited and they came for me shortly afterwards. I thought the way that they took teenagers and tried to mould them into perfect Supers, ready for a career in the public eye was weird and oppressive, so I said no. As I saw more of the vapid and shallow side of many of the Supers, I kept saying no. Some years later, I said hell no, for another reason entirely, one which still hurt to think about. Seb and I fought a lot about it at first, and we even went a few months barely speaking. I was as happy as my mum that we'd found a way not to let any rift tear us apart.

"It's good advice, thanks Mum," was what I said out loud.

On the other end of the line, I heard the doorbell ring. "Now who could that be?" Some muffled sounds, and then she laughed. "Oh, it's your father, and he's got his hands full so he can't open the door. Hang on, David! Okay I'd better go, he's going to need some help carrying these things in. Is that alright, honey?"

I rounded the corner into a lane that I liked to walk through, and leaned against the brick wall. "Yeah, that's fine Mum, don't worry. Give Dad my love. Thanks for the talk."

"No problem, and will do. Actually, we could probably use your help especially." We both laughed. My parents had no powers of their own; nobody was quite sure how it ran through families yet. Regardless, I'd always thought of them as real Supers. My dad was an intellectual property lawyer who particularly liked to help with patent suits against large corporations, and my mum was a neuroscientist, with a special interest in studying the effects of Super powers on the brain.

Now, we said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. A sudden noise behind me made me whip around.

Standing right there was a scruffy man wielding a small but sharp looking knife.