Super Humans: The New Super Humans, #1

By T.M. Franklin

When your living room window starts giving you visions of the future... you better pay attention.

 

Chloe Blake's campus rental has it all: a retro Victorian vibe, a beautiful picture window, and a perfect view of Ethan Reynolds—the guy who broke her heart and lives across the street. But when disturbing visions of death slide across the panes, she's convinced she's glimpsed Ethan's future. She'll stop at nothing to change fate and save him… even if it means everyone thinks she's crazy.

 

Then, one by one, others appear at the house, drawn by an ancient power to seek out the powerful talismans hidden in the attic. Together, they must discover the house's secrets and unlock their hidden powers to take down the shadowy specter that haunts their premonitions and leaves chaos in its wake.

And soon, they learn it's not only about saving Ethan.

 

It's about saving EVERYONE.

 

Super Humans is the first book in The New Super Humans, an edge-of-your-seat contemporary fantasy series. If you like original magic systems, startling suspense, and fast-paced action, then you'll love TM Franklin's riveting thrill ride.

 

Buy Super Humans to unlock an imaginative fantasy adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calava Press
• Release date: Jul 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393012382

Book preview

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Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2018

Published by Calava Press

Portions previously published as WINDOW (2013) and The Talisman Chronicles (2016)

The right of T.M. Franklin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover images by:

©NeoStock - neostock.com

depositphotos.com

©mast3r

©zacariasdamata

stock.adobe.com

©CURAphotography

©Kharchenkoirina

©selenit

Cover design by: T.M. Franklin

Visit the Author’s Web Site at TMFranklin.com

Contents

Super Humans

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Excerpt from Super Powers

Also By T.M. Franklin

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Super Humans

THE NEW SUPER HUMANS, BOOK ONE

ONE

Chloe shivered as they turned the corner and the house came into view, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end.

That’s it, right? her best friend Miranda asked. The blue one on the left?

That’s it.

Miranda pulled into the gravel drive, the old VW engine squealing before she shut it off. She bounced a little in her seat and flashed Chloe a grin. Home sweet home. At least for the next eight months.

When Chloe didn’t respond, Miranda’s smile fell. What’s wrong?

Chloe shook her head. Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.

A feeling?

Chloe nodded. Miranda had been Chloe’s best friend since kindergarten, so she was used to Chloe’s feelings—instinct, intuition, hunches—whatever you wanted to call them, they were almost always on point. Chloe couldn’t explain it, but had come to accept it over the years.

Good feeling or bad feeling? Miranda asked.

Chloe tried to examine it, reaching deep down. Not sure yet.

At once, they both turned to examine the home where they’d be renting rooms during their second year at Washington University. It was a large Victorian, blue with white trim and a sprawling front porch. Chloe’s eyes drifted to the picture window to the left of the yellow front door. It looked old, like the house, the glass rippled and dimpled with age. Stained glass vines wrapped around the edges in colorful twists and turns.

The front door opened and a man walked out. Tall and broad, with dark hair drifting gray above his ears, he wore a WAU sweatshirt and worn jeans, a baseball cap tucked into his back pocket. He looked directly at them and raised a hand, his lips lifting in a grin.

Is that him? Miranda asked.

Chloe shrugged. I guess. I’ve never actually seen him, but I don’t know who else it might be.

They got out of the car and headed up the walkway, holding their coats closed against the brisk fall wind.

Mr. James? Chloe asked.

He grinned and held out a hand. Gavin, please, he said. You must be Chloe. He shook her hand and she got a little shock, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

And Miranda, he said, nodding at her friend. Come on in and I’ll show you around. He led them into the front hallway and as Chloe took in the gleaming hardwood floors and pale walls, a rush of warmth seeped into her skin.

Good feeling, she whispered to Miranda, who smiled at her in response.

To the left was a sitting room with a brick fireplace, some comfortable looking sofas, and the window she'd spotted from the driveway.

The fireplace works, but you’ll have to get your own wood if you want to use it, Gavin said as he led them into the living room and pointed to a TV in the corner. Basic cable's included in the rent, as well as util—

Gavin continued speaking, but Chloe was distracted by a flash of movement outside. She turned to look out the picture window, but there was nothing there, only a quiet street and trees swaying slightly in the breeze.

Everything okay? Gavin asked. Yeah . . . yeah, I just thought I saw—

He glanced at the window. Saw what?

Chloe shook her head. She was constantly thinking she saw something or felt something. Déjà vu was almost a daily occurrence, but it wasn’t something she shared with most people. Especially a near stranger. Nothing. It’s nothing.

Miranda, as usual, tried to draw attention from Chloe's odd behavior. The kitchen’s in here? she asked, edging toward it.

Gavin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded and continued the tour. The kitchen’s stocked with everything but food, he said, waving his hand at the room. It was small and cozy, with white cabinets and pale yellow walls. The appliances dated back to the fifties or sixties, but everything was clean and seemed to be in good condition. "The grocery store’s two blocks away, and there’s a pile of takeout menus in the drawer from former tenants.

Garbage day is Tuesday, and if you miss it, you’ll pay the extra for the next week, he said as they followed him upstairs and emerged on a landing. There are three bedrooms and a shared bathroom on this floor. Two more bedrooms on the first floor, then an attic for storage up there. He gestured to the outline of an opening in the ceiling.

You’re the only tenants right now, so you can pick your rooms.

Really? Chloe was astonished. The house was beautiful, and the rent was incredibly low, compared to other places she’d looked at. We’re the only ones?

For now, he replied. I’m sure it will fill up. It usually does.

It seemed odd, to say the least. The semester started in a week, so she wasn’t sure who would be moving in if they hadn’t nabbed an apartment already. Chloe and Miranda had braved the dorms freshman year, but as soon as they were allowed to move off-campus, they started looking. The ad for the Victorian caught Chloe’s eye, her intuition telling her that this was the perfect place.

As usual, it was right. She loved the house. And by the look on Miranda’s face, she did, too.

All right, I think that’s about it, Gavin said as he headed downstairs, calling back over his shoulder. If you have any questions or problems, you have my number and my email. He stopped at the front door and grabbed the ball cap in his pocket, putting it on as he looked up at them. Don’t hesitate to contact me for anything. I’m happy to help. His gaze rested on Chloe for a long moment before he nodded and slipped out the front door.

Well, that was kind of weird, Miranda said. But gotta say, our landlord’s pretty hot.

Chloe grimaced. "Gross, he’s . . . old!"

Silver fox, she replied with a laugh.

You are a sick, sick individual.

Miranda shrugged, unbothered. You need to open your mind, Chlo.

They spent the rest of the afternoon unloading and unpacking, opting for two of the rooms on the second floor. Chloe’s was painted pale blue with cream trim, a perfect match for the sheets and quilt she’d brought from home for the brass bed in the corner. She finished hanging her clothes in the small closet and closed the dresser drawer on her way out of the room.

I say we order pizza, she said as she entered Miranda’s room and flopped onto the bed. The walls were two shades of beige, a perfect background for her friend's colorful posters and purple comforter.

You read my mind, Miranda replied.

They delved into the takeout drawer and ordered a large pie, and decided to explore the place a little more while they waited for it to arrive. They looked through the kitchen cabinets for dishes and glasses and made a shopping list for the next day.

A shiver ran down Chloe’s spine, and she had the sudden, inexplicable urge to go into the sitting room.

What’s up? Miranda asked, more than used to reading Chloe’s moods.

I’m not sure, she whispered. She got up and went through the doorway into the sitting room. She walked around the overstuffed sofa, her fingers trailing along the soft upholstery. Her gaze drifted around the room from the fireplace to the TV in the corner to the wide white crown molding running along the ceiling.

What was she looking for?

She moved to the picture window and looked out across the street in front of the house. In the waning light of evening, she could see the row of fraternity and sorority houses on the other side of the road, Greek letters gleaming proudly under the streetlights. On impulse, she raised a hand and pressed it to the glass.

Warm.

A movement in the shadows caught her attention and she squinted, trying to make out the details of the shape. Was it a man?

Chloe?

She jumped at the sound of Miranda’s voice and she whirled around, her hand flying to her throat.

What’s wrong? she asked.

Chloe spun back around, searching the shadows. I thought—

Miranda moved to stand next to her. What is it?

Chloe touched the rippled glass again, running a finger along the leaded leaves and vines. This house. It’s . . . different somehow, she said, unsure of how, but equally sure that it was true. I feel something here. Something weird. Good, I think. She shot Miranda a glance. But weird. I don’t know how to explain it.

Miranda shrugged, and Chloe watched the motion in the reflection of the window. They looked similar in the growing darkness, the pink tips along the edges of Miranda’s choppy black hair muted in the glass. They were the same height and petite build, brown-eyed and dark-haired, the only notable difference was Chloe’s olive skin next to Miranda’s paler complexion.

The doorbell rang and they both jumped, then laughed.

I'm sure it's nothing, Chloe said with a deprecating shrug. You know me. I’m pretty much crazy.

Miranda nodded sagely. Absolutely batshit.

Not denying it.

I love you anyway.

Chloe snorted and went to pay for the pizza.

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The next morning, the two roommates thought about going out for breakfast, but remembered they were broke college students and settled for a couple of semi-stale protein bars from Miranda's bag and glasses of tap water.

Breakfast of champions, Chloe muttered through a mouthful. First thing on the To-Do List today is grocery shopping.

Miranda offered a bleary eyed nod. Coffee. Definitely coffee.

They gathered their things and headed for the front door, but Chloe stopped short as she felt that shiver up her spine again.

What is it? Miranda asked from where she was crouched, tying her shoe.

I'm not sure. She crossed to the picture window and peered out at the now bustling street. Ducking in a fruitless effort to avoid the morning drizzle, students were moving into the frat house across the street—all along the street, actually—carrying boxes and bags from double-parked cars and trucks, and exchanging excited greetings and laughter.

Chlo? What's going on? Miranda asked.

Then she saw it—the dark figure in the shadows next to the oak tree. There. That guy.

Miranda peered in the direction Chloe pointed. Which guy?

The one in the shadows.

Shadows? Miranda looked at her in confusion. It's broad daylight.

Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. Chloe let out a shaky breath. You didn't see him?

Miranda let out an irritated huff. See what, Chloe? What are you talking about?

She was about to reply, but suddenly, the window flashed, like light reflecting on a mirror, and the people in the street vanished, leaving only the reflection of Chloe and Miranda.

What the hell? She reached out and touched the fingertips of her reflection, but as soon as she did, the windows flashed again and the image changed.

Before her stood two little girls, seven or eight years old, both dark-haired and dark-eyed—one with a bright pink cast on her left hand. They looked familiar, but it took Chloe a moment to recognize them.

Oh my God, she whispered.

Chloe, you're scaring me. Miranda grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to turn her away from the image, but Chloe stood firm.

Are you saying you don't see that? she asked, jerking away from Miranda's grip as she pointed at the little girls who were now grinning at each other and bouncing on their toes.

See what? she asked frantically.

Chloe felt tears of frustration prick at her eyes. It's . . . it's us. When we were little. Remember when you broke your arm?

She could feel Miranda's gaze on her, confused and concerned. My arm? When I was seven?

Chloe nodded. I see us.

Miranda was quiet for a long moment. You're saying you see us, as little kids, in that window?

I can't explain it, but yeah, she said, her voice cracking.

Then the window flashed again and Chloe gasped.

What? Miranda grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

Chloe stared at the shifting image, her mouth dropping open in shock. The little girls disappeared and suddenly she was staring at a rainy scene in the darkness, a curving roadway, and on the far shoulder, a mass of twisted metal.

Then it went black, and the street and frat boys reappeared, laughing as they unloaded their cars.

Chloe . . . Miranda squeezed her hand even tighter. What is it?

She turned to Miranda, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. It was an accident, she said. A car accident. What the hell is happening? She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. I feel like I'm going crazy.

No. Miranda grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then grabbed Chloe's. Come on. We're getting out of here.

Where are we going? she asked, dazed, as Miranda pulled her toward the front door.

Somewhere where you can breathe, for one, her friend said. And then we're going to figure out just what's going on with this house.

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Chloe warmed her hands around the paper coffee cup, letting the steam bathe her face. Miranda had been right. She felt better just getting out of the house for a bit. They'd found a shop called A Whole Latte Love a couple blocks away and settled in a quiet corner. The shop was small and dark, painted in warm colors, softly lit, and eclectically decorated with mismatched chairs, overstuffed sofas, and well-worn tables. Soothing jazz drifted through the room, interspersed with the whir of the espresso machine and the quiet chatter of the patrons.

Miranda chewed thoughtfully on a scone and offered her a piece.

No thanks.

Miranda swallowed. You okay?

Yeah.

Ready to talk about what happened?

Chloe winced. I guess. I feel kind of like an idiot. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she'd overreacted. Maybe she'd imagined what she saw. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or . . . a prank. Maybe someone was playing a prank on her.

Because that made perfect sense.

She sighed. "I'm not sure exactly what happened, she admitted. I got this weird feeling—"

Good feeling or bad feeling?

Chloe shrugged. Not bad. But not something I've felt before either, not exactly. It was like I was drawn to the window—

Drawn? Miranda broke apart the remainder of her scone. By who?

Or what? I have no idea. Chloe took a sip of her coffee.

Miranda frowned, then brushed off her hands and pulled out her phone, thumbing it open.

What are you doing? Chloe asked.

Research, she murmured in reply, fingers flying over the screen. We already know you're kind of psychic—

Chloe grunted. You know I hate that word.

Miranda shrugged. Intuitive, then. Whatever. You get feelings and they're almost always right.

Chloe sipped her coffee but said nothing.

So what if— Miranda slid her thumb over the screen, obviously reading something. What if this is an offshoot of that? Or what if your gift, or whatever it is, is growing?

That's not ominous at all, she grumbled.

You said it doesn't feel bad, Miranda reminded her. The house?

She shook her head. No, the house—I don't know—there's something unusual about it. But it doesn't feel bad.

So no poltergeists or malicious spirits?

Chloe snorted. I'm not an exorcist, but no—I don't feel like there's anything bad there. It feels nice. Warm. Comfortable.

Mm hmm . . . Miranda continued to poke around on her phone. And the images you saw? The dark man. Us as little kids. A car accident. Anything else?

She thought for a moment, swirling her coffee in the paper cup. I got the impression—God, this sounds stupid.

What?

It almost felt like something was waiting for me? she replied. Like I was supposed to do something.

Miranda hummed in thought, then gestured to her phone. "Listen to this. The more we listen to our intuition, the stronger it becomes. Trust in your power, act on it, and it