Lady Superior

by Alex Ziebart

  Breaking straight through the wall was the best way to go, she figured. Sure, someone would complain about property damage, but lives were more important. She’d break through about ten feet to Katy’s right. Kristen assumed the children were with her—or dead. If they were alive, the best place to keep them happy and quiet was right next to Katy. There wouldn’t be many guards inside. In comic books, the bad guy always had an endless supply of mooks, but this wasn’t a comic book, and Kristen had already pummeled a good number of them into the ground. There’d be enough guards to be a deterrent. The rest would be out looking for Todd.

  Break through, take stock of the guards, take advantage of the shock and awe, dispatch the changelings, protect Todd’s family.

  Easy enough. Right?

  Kristen considered for only a second before dialing 9-1-1 on Katy’s phone.

  She laid the phone on the ground, rose to her full height, and turned to face the wall. Drawing a deep breath, Kristen took a few steps back, and charged shoulder-first. She crashed through the wall with a clatter of shattered bricks, chips of stone and mortar flying into the air. Time seemed to slow as she came out the other side, her mind trying to process everything all at once. Through the dust she saw Katy and her children huddled to her left, an assault rifle trained on them by a wide-eyed changeling in a folding chair. There were two other changelings beyond him, a man and a woman caught in conversation. All three wore their black riot gear except for the helmets, which lay at their feet.

  Time caught up.

  Kristen snatched a flying brick out of mid-air and hurled it like a football at the changeling in the chair’s head, toppling him over backward. She set her feet and cut directions to place herself between Katy and the other two hostiles. She hooked her foot beneath the man she’d toppled, heaving up with her leg to toss him in the air like a soccer ball. She caught him cross-body, then threw him forward to bowl over the other two. All three went down in a tangle of limbs. Kristen pounced. Her fist hammered one skull into a pile of gore. She grabbed the other by the collar of his armor, pulled him up, and then slammed him back down to crack the concrete below. Beneath her hands, Kristen felt the whole of him simply collapse.

  Kristen pushed off her feet and pedaled backward, eyes darting around the warehouse, wary for any others. She saw no one.

  In only seconds, it was over.

  She looked at the corpses, then at the blood and gore on her hands. Again, her perception slowed to a crawl. Everything stopped but for the shaking of her hands. Adrenaline raced through her veins and her guts churned, thrilled at the victory, disgusted by the brutality. That part was never in the comic books. Super strength sent people flying. It didn’t burst their skulls like melons. She hadn’t conveniently knocked them unconscious.

  She’d destroyed them.

  It all felt so…she struggled for the word. Fake? Her mind fought against her; she tried to recall how she felt breaking through that wall and found a blank. She felt nothing. There was no impact of body on stone—no resistance at all. She passed through it like a cloud. Breaking the changelings carried no more weight than what an idle mind conjured in a dull classroom.

  But the blood was heavy on her hands.

  She wanted the changelings to be a challenge. That, she knew, was the dream. For years, all she'd wanted was a challenge: something too heavy to lift, too fast to chase, too strong to topple with ease. The changelings were supposed to be the hurdle, an ancient evil, the kind of opponent that would necessitate she struggle.

  This isn’t about you, she chided herself, you’re here for Katy.

  Kristen shook herself from the stupor. She turned to Todd's wife and children, seeing for the first time the manacles and chains securing them to the concrete. Katy and the girls flinched at Kristen's approach, but she took hold of the chains in both hands, snapping them like cold taffy. “You're okay now,” she cooed. “Everything is alright. I'm a friend. I won't let anybody hurt you.”

  Curled up and huddled with her girls, Katy appeared tiny, no more than a child herself—cheeks ruddy from weeping, hair dusty and disheveled, eyes wide in shock. Her words came out as a whisper. “Are you…her?”

  “From the news? Yeah. They don't seem to like me very much today, so maybe you'll put in a good word for me, huh? But let's get out of here first.”

  Katy stood and pulled her girls up after her. She herded them from the building with Kristen's help, and the moment they stepped outside, Kristen put herself on guard again. Turning rapid circles, she examined every corner, angle, and inch of sky. Cars had stopped in the street, gawkers hanging out their windows with phones, presumably snapping pictures and shooting video. Seeing nothing sinister, Kristen waved to the cameras.

  “Where do we go?” Katy asked, her voice still trembling. She didn't look so tiny anymore—Kristen realized the woman was taller than she was.

  “I think we're alright. The police should be on their way. I think 911 gets GPS from cell phone calls, anyway.”

  In the following moment of silence, Kristen heard a faint, nearby voice.

  “Hello? Hello? Caller, are you still there? What’s happening?”

  “Guess not.”

  Kristen bent over and scooped Katy’s phone from the ground and passed it to her. Katy took it, and though bewildered, pressed it to her ear. She stammered into the receiver. “Hello? Is this 911? Yes, okay. Um, well, I was kidnapped. I’m alright now. I think? This woman rescued me, the Maiden Milwaukee woman, I think. What? No, this isn’t a prank!”

  Kristen gestured for Katy to hand over the phone. She did. Kristen pressed it to her ear and snapped into the received. “Hey, listen to me. We’re at the old Chocolate House on 35th and Howard across from Arlington Cemetery. I’m not fucking around.”

  “Ma’am, this line is for emergency calls only. Be aware that prank calls are a felony.”

  “Oh, fuck off. The police chief calls me a vigilante, but dispatchers think it’s a prank when I call in an actual emergency. I’m giving you five minutes. If nobody comes out here to get these people—who I rescued—there are going to be problems.”

  Kristen hung up before the dispatcher could say anything else and once more passed the phone to Katy.

  Only three minutes later, the police arrived in droves—as they should have, because if Kristen remembered correctly, the district six station was only a mile away. She flashed the officers a jaunty salute and ran for the park, disappearing among the trees.

  After a stop in Zablocki Park's public bathroom to wash up, change clothes, and don her wig, she played the role of an afternoon jogger. She made a few laps around the park in a bright pink sports bra, music blasting through a set of earbuds. Certain she was in the clear, she loaded into her car and drove home.

  Chapter 9

  Emma was sitting on the couch watching television in her pajamas when Kristen walked in the door. Kristen mentally shifted gears, forcing herself into normal young woman mode again. “Jesus, Em. It's like you've moved in already.”

  “I kinda figured you'd be here. Didn't you work last night? Haven't you slept?”

  “Bernice let me crash at her place.” It wasn't a lie. Kristen dumped her stuff on the kitchen counter. “Seriously, though. Are you moving in or what?”

  Emma muted the television. “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “What’s to think about? Your boyfriend is—”

  “Wait, what time is it?”

  Kristen checked her phone. “Quarter to five. Why?”

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Emma cursed, leaping from the couch. She gathered her scattered things from the floor and grabbed her keys from the countertop. “Gotta run and make dinner. I work tomorrow, but I’ll call you!”

  In a whirlwind, she was out the door, leaving Kristen dumbfounded. “Well, that was weird.”

  Kristen had to admit, she didn’t mind Emma’s quick departure. She needed some time alone, and the tiny apartment didn’t provide much privacy. After all, there was a reaso
n they were having the new apartment conversation.

  Though she formed a quick to-do list in her mind, she ignored it and collapsed onto the futon, exhaustion hitting her like a ton of bricks. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept for sleeping’s sake and wasn’t sure she could. It had been a few days, at least. What day was it, anyway? Friday? Saturday? She put her memory through its paces. She’d picked up her new comics on Wednesday and busted up the warehouse that night, meaning she woke up at the crazy old woman’s house on Thursday. On Thursday…what did she do again? Oh, right: merchandising with Bernice, a conversation they hadn’t had a chance to finish. She went to work that night, right? Yes, she decided. She did. That was the night Todd showed up on the radar.

  Was that only the night prior? It already felt like years had gone by, not less than twenty-four hours. That made it Friday, though, and she only worked Monday through Thursday. If she’d had to go into work, she was certain she’d fall asleep staring at the cameras.

  Kristen jerked awake at the sound of her phone ringing; she couldn’t remember falling asleep. Heaving from the futon, she dragged herself to the phone and answered without even looking at the number. “Hello?”

  A man spoke on the other end, voice a deep bass. “I got your message. Both of them.”

  “Huh?” Kristen rubbed her face. “Who is this?”

  “Don’t bullshit. You know who it is.”

  Todd. Clarity flooded in, washing away exhaustion. Kristen paced across the apartment. “Oh, right. I only left you one message, though. What do you mean, both?”

  “Turning my wife over to the cops?”

  “I didn’t turn her over. I rescued her and put her somewhere safe. Show some appreciation, huh?”

  “Look, I—” Todd cut himself off. Kristen could hear him suck in a calming breath before starting anew. “I appreciate it. But now they’re looking for me, and they’re going to ask questions. How am I supposed to go home now?”

  Kristen leaned against a wall and let her head thump against it. “We’ll figure that out, but let’s put it on hold for now. The way I see it, you and I are wrapped up in the same shit. We both have half of the story. Let’s get together, face-to-face, and put the whole picture together.”

  “That’s not happening.”

  “Why not?”

  Silence hung between them for nearly a full minute; Kristen only knew he was still there by his frustrated breathing. Finally, he spoke again. “Honestly? I don’t know anymore.”

  Kristen ran fingers through her hair. “Why don’t you come over to my place? We’ll talk about it over a few beers.”

  “Your place?” His skepticism was palpable. “You’re going to tell me where you live?”

  “I know where you live. Fair’s fair.”

  More silence, but shorter this time. “Give me an address.”

  She supplied it. Todd hung up.

  Kristen slammed the phone down on the countertop. “Could’ve said goodbye, asshole.”

  Only ten minutes later, Kristen answered a knock on the door. Todd stood out in the hall in a black sweatshirt, hood over his head, security tag still clipped to the sleeve. She saw him perform a silent double take, recognizing her, but not quite. Kristen grabbed him by the arm and hauled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

  Todd rumbled. “Your hair’s different. You can change like they can?”

  “What? Oh!” She pulled the blonde wig from her head and tossed it onto the countertop. “I’ve gotten used to wearing it, I guess. Forgot to take it off.”

  Todd eyed the wig warily, like it were a thing that could attack at any moment, but dismissed after only a second. He took a step further into Kristen’s apartment, examining every corner with that same level of caution. Kristen wondered, though, whether it was wariness or disgust. It’d been awhile since she’d bothered to clean her apartment.

  Kristen stepped into the kitchen and yanked the fridge door open. The apartment was so small, they were only a few feet apart and in completely different rooms—kitchen and living room. She snatched a pair of beers from the refrigerator and passed one Todd’s way. “Sorry about the sty. I usually try to clean up before having guests, but today’s been a little weird.”

  Accepting the beer, Todd barked a single beat of grim laughter. “Weird. Yeah, alright. Weird.”

  Kristen twisted the cap off of her beer; it wasn’t a twist-off, but that didn’t matter to her. A pang of regret struck her when she realized she hadn’t done Todd the same decency. She moved to find her bottle opener, but discovered there wasn’t a need. Todd performed the same trick, removing the cap with nothing but the strength in his hands. He didn’t have super strength; he was just a gigantic man-beast. Looking at him, Kristen guessed he was well over six feet, maybe halfway to seven. When he pulled back his hood, he revealed the beating he’d received at the hands of changelings. Not just hands, of course. Claws, teeth, talons, and fangs, too. Bruises and cuts speckled his face. One eye was half swollen shut.

  At that moment, Kristen thought he looked like a wild animal: dirty and unkempt, a hint of anger behind the eyes suggesting he could lash out and tear something—or someone—to pieces. She tried to picture him cleaned up, like that first glance she’d had of him on the freeway, and found the difference in her mind’s eye remarkable. At a better time in better light, she supposed he might look like a big cuddly teddy bear.

  Todd drank half of his beer in one go and let out a noise inappropriate for any setting but the bedroom. He swiped a forearm across his mouth and beard. “God, I needed that.”

  Kristen’s face tightened in disgust. “Sure sounds like it.”

  He pressed the cold beer to a particularly nasty bruise on his face. Eyes closed, he held it there, disappearing into a world of his own for a long moment. When finally he lowered it, he said, “Alright, I’m here. Now what do you want?”

  She gestured toward the bathroom with the neck of her bottle. “Do you want to get cleaned up first?”

  “I’d rather see how this goes.”

  “Okay. Yeah, sure.” Kristen circled around the counter and into the living room. She took a seat on the futon. “Why don’t you start, then? Ask me whatever you want.”

  Todd kept his distance, putting his back to the counter. “How did you know where I live?”

  A little lie couldn’t hurt. Kristen pointed behind him. “That’s easy. You dropped your wallet on the highway. I picked it up for you after you tried running me over with a stolen truck. You’re welcome.”

  He swiveled around to look for the wallet. When he found it, he cursed and shoved it into his back pocket. Kristen went on. “I saw you lived nearby, and figured I’d drop it off. When I showed up, everyone was gone.”

  “Just you?” he asked. “No one else?”

  “Just me. And when I figured out what happened, I went after the guys who grabbed your family.”

  “And what’s that going to cost me?”

  Kristen sat up, confused. “Cost you? Why would it cost you anything? I’m not keeping them hostage. They’re with the police, aren’t they?”

  “That doesn’t matter. You know who I am, and I know what Temple does.”

  She leaned forward and clutched her beer. “What do they do?”

  “Find people like you and me and give us a choice: work for them or disappear. Those are the only options we have. Do what they want or die.”

  Kristen ran that through her head. Did it make sense? No, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was wrong. They hadn’t tried to kill her yet, but she’d complied with what they wanted. Jane gave her the opportunity to walk away, but she hadn’t taken it. What if she had? She cocked her head. “Do you have firsthand experience with that?”

  Todd hesitated. “No.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “I was warned about them.”

  “By who?”

  Beer in hand, Todd crossed his arms. His eyes went distant and Kristen could tell he was carefull
y considering whether or not he wanted to answer. “If it helps, I’m not here to recruit you for anything. I wouldn’t even say I’m with Temple. The only interaction I’ve had with them since finding you is one of them patching me up after I got shot by a dozen cops. I only want to figure out what’s going on. If you still think I’m looking to blackmail you, my real name is Kristen Anderson. Now you have my name, too.”

  Todd downed the last of his beer and, in his exhaustion, let the bottle slam down onto the counter. “She said her name is Delphi. I don’t think it’s her real name. I did some work for her a few months back.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking. She’s a friend of a friend or something like that; I don’t know how they knew each other, it doesn’t matter. Money’s been tight and she needed someone to do some odd jobs—painting and little repairs around her store. Things like that. So I did the work and got paid. She gave me a free case of beer with every job, too. Then a few weeks ago, she called me again, said she had some work. I drove straight out there. She tells me she knows what I am and what I can do, and there was no point in lying, because she could see things. I denied it. Then she touched my hand and showed me my own memories. It was like she was changing the channel on a television, but in my head. Denying it didn’t work anymore. Even if I kept it up, she’d know I was lying, because she was in my head.”

  Kristen’s face scrunched. “That’s kind of creepy. Isn’t it? You’re going to trust someone who screws with your head?”

  He shrugged. “My dad died when I was a kid. He could do what I can. We have a cabin up north—it used to be his. He’d take me up there during hunting season and teach me how to jump. Someone killed him. I screwed up a shot, let a buck run bleeding. When he went to track it and put it out of its misery, I heard a shot. Figured he’d gotten it, but I found him dead in the dirt. Shot in the chest. I figured a poacher on our land got him, but Delphi told me it was Temple. Murder. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. She said it was, and it sounded right. Then she offered me more work.”