Heroine Complex

by Sarah Kuhn

  I rolled over to press myself against him in a suggestive manner. And then I noticed he was shaking.

  I sat up. He was curled into a fetal position, facing away from me, and every part of him seemed to be thrashing. His limbs jerked and his fists clutched the sheets so hard, his knuckles turned white. He was completely silent, which made the whole thing more disconcerting. He looked like he was caught in a seizure.

  I touched his shoulder.

  No response. Only shaking.

  Panic shot through me. Had Maisy come back? Was she doing this?

  Was she going to take him away from me?

  No, you idiot, I thought, forcing myself to think rationally. He’s having a nightmare. He saw a lot of fucked up shit last night, too.

  I gripped his shoulder more firmly. “Nate. Wake up.”

  More silence. More shaking.

  I grasped both of his shoulders and leaned close to his ear. “Wake up now. Please.”

  Still nothing. My panic threatened to flare. I shoved it back and shook him as hard as I could.

  “Wake up, dammit! Or I’ll . . . I’ll burn your Nordstrom frequent shopper card!”

  His eyes flew open and his breath whooshed out in one violent gasp. His hands wrapped around my arms and he met my eyes with a stare so blank, I wondered if he recognized me.

  I gently disentangled myself from his grasp and brought my hands to his face. His skin felt clammy. But at least he wasn’t shaking anymore.

  “You were having a nightmare,” I said. I stroked my thumbs over his cheekbones. “At least I think that’s what it was.”

  He wouldn’t stop looking at me with that freaky expressionless gaze. Worry rose like bile in my throat.

  “Nate?” I tried to make my voice soft, soothing. I didn’t want him to hear any of that worry.

  His eyes finally seemed to focus. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It was a nightmare.” His arms went around me and he pulled me against his chest. His heartbeat thudded in my ear, amplified and way too fast.

  “About last night?” I pressed.

  “No.” He sounded surprised. “I . . .”

  He trailed off and paused for what seemed like an eternity. Which made my panic rise again. I pulled out of his embrace and faced him.

  “Because maybe Maisy did something to you that . . . that . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to complete that thought.

  “What? Oh, Evie—no. It’s nothing like that.” He tried to give me a half-smile, but his eyes looked haunted. “There’s a specific kind of nightmare I have sometimes.”

  I nodded, but I was still studying him carefully, trying to discern what was wrong. He looked disoriented, like he wasn’t fully inhabiting his body.

  “The other night, you asked about my scars,” he continued. He met my gaze. “And one of your theories was correct.”

  “The superspy thing?” I said, even though I knew that wasn’t right.

  “Someone hurt me.” His tone was measured and steady. “A long time ago. And once in a while I have a dream where I remember.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how.

  “I want to tell you . . .” he began, but his voice cracked. His breathing sped up, becoming distorted and uneven. His eyes were full of old pain he didn’t want to pass on to me.

  I didn’t say anything. I slid my arms around his neck and held him. Then I leaned back against the headboard and pulled him with me, positioning us so his head rested on my shoulder. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling his staccato breath against my neck. Eventually, it started to even out and I felt like I could speak.

  “You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” I said. “But it’s like you said last night. About how you’re here. I’m here, too. I know it took me a little longer to figure things out, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  His arm tightened around my waist and I felt his big body relax against me. And I realized I wasn’t the only one scared of this “not just orgasms” thing between us.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I repeated softly.

  I kept stroking his hair, willing his breathing to even out further. Within this moment of quiet contemplation, I was surprised to feel a hot surge of anger—a sharp, bitter thing out of place in the current calm of the room.

  How could anyone hurt this man, so sweet and gentle beneath his gruff exterior? If I ever found the person responsible for his pain, they’d better be prepared to either run really fast or suddenly develop magical abilities that rendered them fireproof.

  My palm heated at the thought, anger pooling in my chest.

  Calm down, I told the fire. This isn’t the time.

  I focused on holding him. Our breathing eventually matched up, and we had both started to drift back to sleep when the bedroom door flew open and Lucy barged in.

  “Morning,” she said, breezing over to the bed and plopping herself down next to me. “I was going to ask why the backseat of my car is covered in Lucky Charms and panties, but . . .” She gave us a pointed look. “I guess I have my answer.”

  “We can clean that up later,” Nate muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “This came for you, Evie.” Lucy tossed a padded manila envelope in my lap. “Fan mail, perhaps? From someone who enjoyed your ragey pictures on Maisy’s blog?”

  I rolled my eyes at her and glanced at the postmark. Peru.

  “Now, about my backseat,” Lucy said.

  I tuned out while she and Nate discussed the most effective car upholstery cleaning methods and slit the envelope open. It contained two plane tickets and a folded letter. And as I read the letter, the anger I’d banished moments earlier rose up again.

  Evelyn and Beatrice: I received Beatrice’s email regarding her birthday celebration and must send my regrets as I am about to embark on Chakra Balance Step #5 in my training at Yogini Lara’s Mind-Body-Spirit Wellness Retreat. I do, however, wish to reconnect with both of you on a higher plane of spiritual awareness. Yogini Lara says this is crucial to my inner foundation becoming whole again. Enclosed, please find two plane tickets to Peru (the current locale of our retreat space) as well as a birthday present for Beatrice. Downward Dog be with you,

  Dad

  I stared at the plane tickets, then back at the letter. It was the most words we’d gotten from him since he left.

  “Birthday present?” I muttered. I tipped the envelope upside down and a flimsy bracelet made of pink plastic hearts tumbled out. The rage that had been percolating in my chest blossomed. “Christ, Dad,” I murmured. “Bea’s not a little kid. And she hates pink.”

  I clenched my hands, soothing the fire, telling it to stay put. It was just so him. Thinking he could fix something with a plane ticket and a shitty birthday present. And thinking about it in terms of how it helped his “spiritual awareness” rather than how it might heal us.

  What would happen if we actually went to him? Bea would love the fact that he’d sent her a birthday present at all, that he’d remembered the tiniest detail about her life. But I could see, all too clearly, what would happen next. Once we joined him, Dad would proceed to get wrapped up in the Yogini Lara-ness of it all and Bea would be neglected, ignored. And eventually, crushed.

  I couldn’t let that happen. She had come so far, she was doing so well . . .

  And honestly, so was I.

  I swept the envelope and its contents into the wastebasket next to my bed.

  “Nothing important?” Nate asked. His hand slid under the covers to take mine.

  “No,” I said, managing a quick smile. “Why don’t we get dressed and clean up Lucy’s car?”

  “Evie!” Now Aveda was barging in with Scott trailing behind her. “I have something very important to show you!” she crowed.

  Really, I was going to have to think about installing some k
ind of industrial-strength lock on my bedroom door. At least Nate and I were both sort of clothed—him in boxers, me in his shirt again.

  Aveda’s hair was frizzy and tangled, her eyes bright with glee. And she was standing upright with no assistance.

  “Where are your crutches?” I asked. “And your cast?”

  “Never mind that. I want you to watch the hell out of this.”

  She raised her hand and aimed it at the empty water glass on my nightstand. I instinctively reached over to get it for her. But there was no need.

  The glass flew across the room and smashed into the wall.

  “What . . .” I sat up straight, my eyes blinking rapidly. “Have you been practicing or something?” I exchanged a bewildered look with Nate and Lucy.

  “No.” She beamed, flexing her fingers. “It just kind of happened. Reached for my toothbrush this morning and it sailed across the sink and snapped into my hand. And I can do multiple objects, too!” She lifted her hand again and the mess of glass came to life, rising from the ground in a sparkling field of jagged edges and light.

  “Wow.” I flinched. “Can you put that down, please?”

  “Spoilsport.” She dropped her hand, allowing the glass to cascade back to the floor.

  “Did Scott figure out some kind of power-enhancing spell?” I said, grasping for an explanation.

  “No.” Aveda stamped her foot. “Come on, people. Use your borderline-competent powers of deduction.”

  “We just woke up,” Nate said. “Please enlighten us.”

  “Last night’s earthquake,” Aveda said. “Remember how Evie was suddenly able to throw her fireballs? How she’d been trying for days and they’d stayed all stuck to her hand and then right in time for the big karaoke finale, right when the earthquake happened . . . bam.” Aveda mimed throwing a fireball at the ceiling. “She did it. That’s a whole new dimension of control for her. And my telekinesis is way stronger. We’ve both leveled up.”

  I opened my mouth to protest then realized that wasn’t a bad explanation.

  “Your powers aren’t connected to natural phenomena,” Nate said.

  “But they are connected to unnatural phenomena,” I said, working it out. “That first demon portal opening up all those years ago caused an earthquake. Maybe something like that happened again. Maybe defeating Maisy triggered it.”

  “Another portal?” Lucy said. “Does that mean we have more humanoid demon corpses to contend with? Or worse, humanoid demons?”

  “I checked in with Bea. She said Rose’s team is scoping out the area where the earthquake was centered,” Aveda said. “They haven’t found anything. No corpses, no portals. No reports of demon activity since Evie busted Maisy’s ass. But they’re keeping an eye on things and will be in touch with us.”

  “Rose is up and about after staying out so late with us at The Gutter last night?” Lucy mused. “Impressive.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged her for it, but that girl has quite the arsenal of dirty jokes,” Aveda said. “Especially after you get some bourbon in her.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So this level up business may be due to another portal, but we’re not sure why. And there’s no physical evidence of said portal. Sounds like this requires . . .”

  “Further scientific research?” Nate asked.

  “Yes.” I smiled at him.

  “Gross.” Aveda made an exaggerated retching sound. “You two need to cut it out with that cutesy stuff before you thoroughly ensicken the entire team.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re the one who barged into my bedroom. Plus, ‘ensicken’? That’s not even a word.”

  “Look it up.” She stuck her tongue out at me. “Your picture is next to the Wikipedia entry.”

  I grinned at her. It was nice having some of our junior high-era banter back. With the added twist that I was now unwilling to let her walk all over me.

  “What about Scott?” Lucy piped up. “Did he get a level up too?”

  “Yup.” Scott leaned against the doorframe. “As soon as Annie discovered this new wrinkle in her power, I decided to test mine. Notice anything different about her ankle?” Aveda twisted her foot around to demonstrate.

  “You’re healed,” I realized. “That’s why you don’t have your crutches.”

  “It seems I can now do higher-level spells,” Scott said. “I’m still working out what all I can do, but the first thing I tried was a healing spell. All I had to do was touch her ankle and—”

  “And it’s fixed!” Aveda exclaimed, rocking back on her heels. “So obviously I can return now. No more hobbling around on the sidelines.”

  She looked at me hopefully, as if seeking permission. Or at the very least, advice. It threw me, because it was so unlike something the uninjured version of Aveda Jupiter would do. Maybe the past weeks had changed her as much as they’d changed me.

  “I mean, your ass looks good in leather pants, Evie. But not as good as mine.”

  Okay, so maybe she hadn’t changed too much. But she gave me a small, teasing smile to soften her words.

  “Nate will need to do a full medical exam to make sure you’re fully recovered,” I said. “And Lucy will have to put you through some basic training. Why don’t you take over at that Small Business Crawl thing Bea mentioned last night? That’ll give you a week to prep.”

  “Okay.” Her head bobbed eagerly.

  Scott stepped forward. “There’s also the question of . . .” He hesitated.

  “Of what?” Lucy asked.

  “The power transfer spell.” He looked from me to Aveda then back again. “With this power level up, I should be able to do it now, no problem.”

  No. The response popped into my head, unbidden.

  Before I could say anything, Aveda spoke up.

  “Now that my power’s awesome, I don’t need the fire,” she said. “We can spin the telekinesis as an improvement. Fire can be kind of, I don’t know, destructive? Makes people uncomfortable.”

  I resisted the urge to disagree with her. The enthusiastic response from the karaoke crowd last night seemed to indicate otherwise.

  Then again, why should I disagree with her? Thanks to this new development, I was getting everything I wanted. My days of fake superheroing were about to come to a close, I could finally control my fire, and I had a really hot boyfriend whose fingertips were now trailing suggestively down my back.

  And yet, there was no sweet relief flooding through me. No sensation of a weight being lifted from my soul. I felt tense and twitchy and like I had something else to say, but couldn’t quite say it.

  Maybe I was just reeling from the slew of new developments in the last twenty-four hours. Or hell, from the last two weeks. I’d been through so much: emotionally, physically, supernaturally. I’d fought hard, I’d pushed through my fear. And now I’d finally arrived at my goal. It’d been such a hurricane of events and I was still processing and said goal didn’t feel real yet. It’d probably be weird if I wasn’t experiencing a little twitchiness.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Now why don’t we take this party out of my room and downstairs to Bea’s birthday breakfast?”

  I smiled at everyone.

  But that twitchy feeling stayed with me for the rest of the day.

  From the official website of Demon City Tours:

  To the Potential Guests of Demon City Tours

  We are doing our best to accommodate all requests, but please note that our tours are booked until further notice. To get on the waiting list, fill out the contact form below with your name, email, and the number of guests in your party and someone will get back to you. Thank you for your patience and understanding!

  To respond to our newest frequently asked questions:

  1. Yes, we have added the Yamato Theater and The Gutter to our list of stops.

  2. No, w
e cannot guarantee a viewing and/or demonstration of Aveda Jupiter’s fire power. We also can still not guarantee an appearance by Ms. Jupiter herself.

  Most Recent Reviews of Demon City Tours

  “This isn’t really a review since I couldn’t even get a spot on the tour for my upcoming San Francisco vacation. If you ask me, Demon City Tours needs to add more staff and vehicles. Clearly, everyone wants to see the new, improved, and super-fiery Aveda Jupiter in action! Aveda, if you’re reading this: I love you! I may be #263 on the waiting list, but I’m definitely your #1 fan!”

  —Jenn F., Timberlake, Ohio

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “YOU’RE SURE IT’S not too much?” Aveda twirled in front of me, the sequins accentuating her body sparkling in the morning light. She was debuting a new outfit, a glittery bodysuit thing that made her look like a mermaid going to a rave. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate nest of braids on top of her head and a trail of stars painted on her left cheekbone completed the ensemble. Bea had put together the entire look based on her own algorithm combining social media stats with the latest fashion trends.

  “It’s not too much.” I squeezed her hand. “You look fantastic.”

  And she did. Glowing and gorgeous. San Francisco’s perfect daughter.

  It had been a week since we’d gotten our power level up, and the real Aveda Jupiter was about to return. Nate and I were with her at the starting point of the Small Business Crawl, which just happened to be Pussy Queen, Shasta’s snooty underwear store. I noticed Shasta had invested in a garish new Pussy Queen sign featuring the slogan “a fine lingerie shoppe.” If I were about to go on as Aveda Jupiter, I’d probably accidentally blurt out that adding extra letters to words in order to make them appear classy was really fucking stupid.

  But I wasn’t about to go on. Aveda was.

  The past week had been quiet. No new portals had opened up. I wondered if this was a new status quo; if, in light of the destruction of their princess, the demons of the Otherworld would withdraw from San Francisco altogether. My pessimistic side told me that was way too easy.