Unsung Heroine

by Sarah Kuhn

  “No,” she said, her brow furrowing. “No, I . . . I’m so sorry, it’s all a blur.”

  I decided to try something else. I’d ask Celine more innocuous questions about herself—see if that led anywhere. Sometimes when people allow their brains to really and truly relax, they remember more. Plus, it would allow me to kick Operation: Rose Hearts Celine into gear.

  “Soooo,” I said, making my tone even more mellow. “It sounds like you’ve heard of The Gutter. But last night was your first time performing here? How is that possible? Because, darling . . .” I forced myself to smile and give her the compliment she deserved, even though it made jealousy burn through my body with renewed vigor. “ . . . your voice is spectacular.”

  “Thank you,” Celine said, blushing. She was somehow even more gorgeous when she blushed, and I was chagrined to realize this annoyed me. I cast a surreptitious gaze at Rose to see if she noticed, but Rose seemed to be extremely involved in her scanning, studying the read-out with fervor. “I grew up in the Bay Area, actually, out in the suburbs—Pleasanton,” Celine continued. “My mother used to bring me to The Gutter, when I was about ten. She was a singer as well. It’s so eerie how much we were alike. She looked basically exactly like me—even though I’m a Thai-Filipina-Chinese-Swedish-Norwegian blend and she’s . . . well, only a couple of those.” She smiled slightly and I returned her smile.

  “Mixed race feels,” I said, my annoyance receding a bit. “I know how that is.”

  “She used to absolutely slay on that stage,” Celine continued. “I dreamed that I’d be up there one day, too. We moved away when I got to middle school, though. I only moved back here recently—after she passed away.” She looked at the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. And for a moment, my annoyance was completely swept aside and my heart went out to her. I couldn’t imagine being without my mama. “And love, that is most impressive that your mother managed to sneak you in here as a mere child—this is usually a twenty-one-and-over joint. How did she accomplish such a feat?”

  “She’d wear these big skirts and I’d hide under them,” Celine said, her mouth quirking into a half-smile. “She didn’t see any reason why age should keep me from witnessing true art.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, but my sense of annoyance had returned. That sounded so . . . hokey. Like Celine was picturing herself as the star of a gauzy made-for-TV biopic, complete with inspirational sound bites.

  “I’m sorry,” Celine said, swiping her hand over her eyes. “I really don’t like to talk about my mother or my memories from here. It brings up too much. That’s why last night was so special. It was like the place was new to me all over again.”

  “Of course,” I said smoothly. “Well, other than visiting Kevin’s illustrious establishment here, what have you been up to since you’ve gotten back to the Bay? Any favorite activities? You know, I believe there’s a Star Trek convention coming up next month—Rose here loves going to those.”

  “Oh . . . ?” Celine turned to Rose, intrigued—and I tried to ignore the way my heart clenched.

  “I do,” Rose said simply.

  “Cool,” Celine said. “I’m a Voyager girl.”

  “Ah.” Rose nodded. And then went back to her scanning.

  Dammit. Usually I loved her whole “woman of few words” thing, but Ms. Rorick was really not making this easy for me.

  “How about dating?” I said impulsively, deciding to dive right in. “Have you found any special someones in our fair city?”

  “Uh, not really,” Celine said, her earnest expression turning puzzled.

  “Oh, but you must try to get out there!” I exclaimed. “Dating in San Francisco can be so lovely—there are so many romantic sights, so many good places to eat. There’s this hiking trail up in Buena Vista Park that offers an absolutely spectacular view—”

  “And it’s a different view, depending on when you go,” Rose cut in, finally contributing a sentence longer than two words. Her eyes lifted and met mine. “Day or night.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” Celine said. “I’ll definitely have to check that out.”

  “You should,” I said, but my tone was suddenly distracted. Because Rose and I had locked gazes once again. And once again, I was drawn into her beautiful brown eyes and couldn’t think of anything except just how beautiful they were and how much I loved staring into them and—

  “Um, Lucy?” Celine piped up, snapping me out of my reverie.

  “Yes, love?” I said, turning back to her.

  “I, uh . . . I’m really flattered,” she said, twisting her hands together. “And I’m so honored to finally meet you—your Gutter stardom is known far and wide in the karaoke scene. But I’m really not looking to date anyone right now, you know? Especially someone I’m competing against.”

  “Oh, of course!” I said, my voice way too bright.

  Bloody hell.

  I was supposed to be directing her toward Rose. Not me! How had I managed to cock that up so thoroughly?

  “If we’re all good here, I’d really love to go get some practice in before Shruti gets here with the costumes,” Celine continued, giving Rose a questioning look.

  “All scanned,” Rose said, waving a hand. “No supernatural energy detected on your person.”

  “Okay, then!” Celine chirped, hopping up and heading toward the door. “And no hard feelings, right, Lucy?” She gave me a simpering smile.

  “No, no, no, of course not,” I blathered, my cheeks heating up.

  You aren’t really my type anyway, I thought resentfully.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, I busied myself with made-up tasks, rearranging some papers on Kevin’s messy desk.

  “Well,” I said, making my voice as casual as humanly possible. “I guess I should get to practicing, too—”

  “Lucy,” Rose interrupted. “Why on earth are you trying to set me up with Celine?”

  Of all the words that could have come out of her mouth right then, I never would have predicted that. I guess I’d momentarily forgotten that Rose’s whole strong silent thing wasn’t just a trait for me to swoon over; it usually meant she was deep in observational mode, taking in every little nuance of every little thing happening around her. It was one of the elements that made her such a good investigator.

  “I, uh . . . well, isn’t Celine just marvelous, though?” I said, pasting on a big smile. “I know you’ve been feeling alone and adrift after all those grueling double shifts lately, and it’s so hard to find someone, especially someone who gets that said grueling shifts are part of the job you love so much. As a top tier karaoke star, Celine will absolutely get that, won’t she? She’s perfect for you, and if you’d open yourself up to spending time with her—”

  “Lucy!”

  My mouth snapped shut. I’d never heard Rose interrupt someone. Or snap at someone. Or give anyone the thoroughly exasperated look that was now trained directly on me.

  Rose shook her head and took a step toward me. Her gaze was as serious as ever, but there was this strain of, I don’t know . . . extra seriousness percolating in her eyes that sent heat sweeping up the back of my neck, flooding my cheeks. I was suddenly glad for the wretched lighting in this dingy back room.

  “You know who else gets my job?” Rose said, holding my gaze. “Who else is a karaoke star?”

  She took another step toward me, and I instinctively took a step back, my shoulder blades hitting the wall of the minuscule space. I swallowed hard and tried to shoo away the blush that had taken over my entire face. But I couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes held mine as if she’d cast a spell over me. And I had zero interest in breaking it.

  (Once again, I feel it’s important to point out here that this was not an actual spell. I don’t think.)

  “Ummmm . . .” I squeaked out, my voice high and fluttery.

 
“You,” Rose said, her tone going husky. “It’s you, Lucy. So why are you trying to push me together with someone who’s not you?”

  “I . . .” My heart hammered in my chest, beating so hard I swore I could feel it smacking against my breastbone. And the flush in my face had spread to my entire body, making me feel as though I was suddenly in the middle of an extra humid tropical jungle. Rose leaned in, studying every inch of my face, and I realized I’d never been this close to her. Everything I’d admired before was suddenly thrown into sharp relief, taking on an excruciatingly beautiful level of detail. Her eyes were such a deep brown, I could drown in them. Her skin looked impossibly, irresistibly soft. Her glorious scent of vanilla and citrus surrounded me. And her neck . . . god, I just wanted to bite it.

  “Lucy,” she said, and I sighed at the sound of my name on her gorgeous lips. “Have I been reading this all wrong?” She took yet another step closer. “I’ve got you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Remember?”

  I was so lost in her at that point that I was barely capable of listening. I had to touch that beautiful skin and get even more lost in those eyes and . . .

  I grabbed the collar of her perfectly ironed shirt, pulled her close, and pressed my mouth to hers.

  And even though I’d technically interrupted her, she didn’t seem at all surprised. She sighed against my lips, a gentle sound that sent a whole new wave of heat rushing through me. My hands slid up her shoulders, twining around her wonderful neck to pull us closer. Her hands went to my hips, tracing their curves. And we melted into each other.

  When her tongue parted my lips and slid into my mouth, stroking, I thought I might just explode.

  I don’t know how long we stayed that way, kissing, stroking, melting. Minutes. Hours. Years.

  Normally, I would have moved things farther along at this point, started circling the bases. And I couldn’t deny that I wanted to—oh, how I wanted to. I wanted to feel even more of her soft skin underneath my fingertips, to feel her incredible mouth everywhere on my body. But this perfect kiss was so pure, so delicious, I also never wanted it to end.

  I’d forgotten that any world existed beyond this kiss, so it was quite the shock when a bloodcurdling scream rang out through the air.

  We broke apart, gasping. Met each other’s eyes for one panicked moment. Then bolted for the door at the exact same time.

  Chapter Four

  “It’s coming from the kitchen!” I called over my shoulder as I zipped down one of The Gutter’s dank, narrow hallways. It was a tradition for people to plaster their business cards to the walls—goodness knows how or why this bit of sloppiness got started—and all of the halls were wallpapered with the things. Which made for a very claustrophobic effect, as if the walls were closing in on Rose and me as we raced toward the kitchen.

  Thankfully, between that and all the adrenaline coursing through my body, I didn’t have time to think about what had just happened in the tiny back room. Which was probably contributing to the adrenaline coursing through my body—

  “It’s getting louder!” Rose bellowed, derailing my train of thought.

  We burst through the kitchen’s swinging double doors just in time to see Celine all tangled up in a microphone cord, screaming her head off. The cord was still attached to a mic, but the end wasn’t plugged into anything. It looked sort of like Celine was attempting to kidnap herself.

  “Oh . . .” I said, my brow furrowing as Rose and I both came to a screeching halt. “Celine, I know those mic cords are sometimes rather unwieldy, but if you’ll hold still for a moment, I’m sure we can—”

  “No.” Celine shook her head vehemently, her eyes wild. “Not . . . that. I’m not doing this,” she yelped. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”

  Just then, the end of the mic cord swept through the air and violently flung itself around Celine’s torso, pinioning her arms to her sides.

  Rose’s eyes widened. “What the hell?” she breathed. Somehow her voice was still low and totally even. How was she always so freaking calm?

  “Well, darling,” I said, addressing Rose as I charged toward Celine. “It appears the mic—or at least the mic cord—has come to life or is possessed by demons or perhaps is a demon itself and is now trying to choke the life out of our dear Celine. You know, just another day on the job.”

  I took a fighting stance, purpose flowing through every limb, and swept one of my arms out, wrapping my fist around the mic cord in a firm grip. It had curled itself around Celine’s body, binding her arms and torso. And I couldn’t see the end of it. I just grabbed the first section I could.

  “Go get Evie and Aveda,” I called out to Rose. “Heaven knows why they haven’t come to see what all the screaming’s about, but—”

  “Like hell, Lucy!” Rose growled—and now she didn’t sound so calm. She moved to the other side of Celine’s struggling body. “I’m not leaving you alone to fight this . . . this . . .”

  “Rogue microphone cord?” I spat out, yanking on the cord with all my might. I felt it resist against my palm, trying to get out of my grasp, wrapping itself even tighter around Celine. “Goodness, it sounds quite ridiculous when you say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

  “Can’t . . . breathe . . .” Celine wheezed, her face turning a pale shade of blue.

  Rose clamped both hands on the cord, trying to pull it loose from Celine’s body. “God, this thing is . . . the more I pull, the harder it resists,” Rose said. She’d reclaimed a bit of her calm, but her voice was laced with frustration. “It’s like a snake. Made of rubber. And possibly demons.” She glared at the cord and pulled on it again. “Listen to me,” she said, affecting her most authoritative cop lady voice (which I’ll admit, sent a somewhat ill-timed shiver up my spine). “You’re under arrest for unlawful imprisonment, creating a disturbance—”

  “Really now, does that ever work on supernatural beasties?” I said, cocking an eyebrow (and trying very hard not to show her how much that authoritative cop lady voice affected me). “I don’t think it’s listening to us. At all.”

  I felt along on the cord’s rubbery surface. It didn’t seem like it was going to break, despite our best efforts, so perhaps if I could find the end of it, I could unravel it and free poor Celine . . .

  “Please,” Celine choked out. Her face was even more blue now, her eyes practically popping out of their sockets. “It’s squeezing all my airways, my voice will be destroyed!”

  “Your everything will be destroyed if we don’t get this off of you,” Rose muttered.

  I ran my fingertips over another part of the cord, feeling along, until I finally hit something that felt like the end—the circular metal edge that usually got plugged into the amp or sound system. A surge of triumph shot through me.

  “All right, then,” I murmured. “Steady . . . steady . . .”

  But just as I tightened my grip, preparing to pull with all my might, I heard a low hissssss, like a radiator letting off steam, and the end of the cord twitched and snapped against my palm.

  “Yowch!” I shrieked, jumping back and cradling my hand against me.

  Apparently unsatisfied with merely injuring a small part of me, the end of the cord flung itself away from Celine’s body and soared through the air, aiming directly for my head.

  “Hey!” I yelped, dancing out of the way. The cord waved through the air menacingly, but without finesse—it seemed able to sense I was there, but not pinpoint my exact location. (Still, quite a feat for a previously inanimate microphone cord.)

  I reached into my weapons garter, pulled out two of my mini throwing stars, and flung them at the cord in quick succession, trying to calculate their momentum so they would land just right. They sailed through the air with a satisfying thwip-thwip, but the cord swung out of the way and the stars embedded themselves in the kitchen wall with a dull thunk.

  “Lucy!” Rose said. Now her aut
horitative cop lady voice was aimed at me. “Get out of here!” She was still trying to pull the cord from Celine’s body. And Celine, who was still being squeezed by the part of the cord that wasn’t trying to smash me, was making alarming choking noises.

  “Not on your life,” I snarled, rubbing my aching palm.

  “Go find Evie and Aveda,” Rose insisted. “Maybe Evie can burn this thing or Aveda can use telekinesis to get it off of her or—”

  “You go find Evie and Aveda,” I retorted, dancing out of the way of the cord yet again. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a gigantic mixing bowl on one of the kitchen counters, shiny and gleaming silver under the over-bright lights. “I have a more mundane solution in mind.” I kept my eyes on the cord, tracking its path through the air. It definitely had a pattern, flinging itself up near the ceiling, then pushing itself down to sweep along the floor. That meant that when it was at that midpoint—not arched high in the air, not planted on the ground, but moving between extremes—it should be at its most vulnerable.

  “I’m not leaving you!” Rose said, her voice pure exasperation.

  “Well, I’m not leaving you.”

  “Mrpmmppphh!” said Celine.

  I watched the cord fling itself high once more, my eyes glued to its slim, snakelike form. Then, as soon as it began its descent, I planted my feet firmly, bent my knees, and leapt into the air. My impeccable stance ensured that I had a lot of momentum behind me, meaning I could meet the cord with the maximum amount of force. I threw myself at it and pulled it close, wrapping my entire body around it, as if trying to embrace a squirming child. It thrashed wildly in my grasp, but I held it tight.

  We crashed to the floor, and I angled my body so I landed on top. The cord pushed more insistently against me, trying to get free, and I knew the hard rubber was probably leaving all kinds of interesting bruises on my skin. I sucked it up and banished the pain from my mind. I’d deal with that later.

  “Lucy!” Rose yelled. “That’s . . . that’s working! Keep going!”