Super Zero

by Rhonda Stapleton

  “Sorry?” Rowena gave a creepy, tight smile, pointing the razor tip of her blood-red fingernail under my chin. I felt a little scrape as she grazed my flesh, her eyes cold as winter. “Oh, you’re going to be. I won’t forget this.”

  Chapter 2

  Fortunately nothing came to fruition at that moment. Rowena let me escape, let me run out of her huge house, jump into my beater car and head back home at break-neck speed.

  Unfortunately, though, I knew she was serious. She was going to get back at me for my part in Mason’s infidelity. And probably sooner than later.

  In a way, that was worse—knowing I was going to feel her wrath, but having no idea when. And when Mason found out I’d screwed up the bracelets, he’d have my ass for breakfast. Not a fun prospect all around for me.

  Needless to say, anxiety made for a restless night. I don’t think I got fifteen total minutes of sleep. I tossed and turned for hours in my full-sized bed, every creak in my apartment paralyzing me with fear that Rowena was in my room, ready to slice me apart with her insanely long fingernails. The definite downside of working for superheroes and the like—you learn their modus operandi quickly when you piss one of them off.

  Which was why I tried to call off work the next morning. I clung to the phone with shaky hands, nerves shot from lack of sleep. Apparently Mason had stayed at work overnight again, so he hadn’t encountered the wrath of Rowena yet.

  I explained to him the mix-up with the bracelets, holding my breath as I waited for the blast from him about screwing up so royally.

  “Sorry, but you can’t miss work,” he said calmly into the receiver. “I have a deadline next week on the proposal for the CompuParts project, and I need you to pick up my uniform from the dry cleaners.”

  Uh, what? “Did you hear me? Your wife knows you cheated on her, and she’s furious at me for it.” I gritted my teeth, the grinding of my back molars strangely satisfying. “You’re gonna have to count me out.” I paused. “In fact, I think I’m going to hand in my resignation. It’s not fair for me to suffer because of your affairs.”

  Maybe leaving the job would appease Rowena’s anger. Probably not. She didn’t seem like the ‘let it go’ type.

  “You’re not quitting either.” Mason sighed heavily into the receiver. “Rowena isn’t going to hurt you. She’s a superhero, and it’s her job to do good.” His voice lightened, and he chuckled. “Besides, that’s not her style. More likely she’d put a decree out and have someone else do it.”

  I thunked my head on my kitchen table in frustration. “Oh, that’s so much better. A superhero fatwa on my head. Just what I always wanted. Thank you for the kind words of comfort. Now I can sleep in peace. Eternally.”

  I couldn’t believe how blasé Mason was. Hello—maybe he could fight and not worry about dying because of his powers, but I was mortal and wimpy-weak, thank you very much. I had the upper body strength of a kitten, and buns of aluminum. This was totally unfair.

  “Lighten up—I’m kidding,” he said, his voice booming. “Look, no more of this quitting nonsense. I’ll talk to Rowena and work things out. You know how she overreacts. Once she’s calmed down, things will be back to normal. Fair enough?”

  Logically I knew he was right about her hotheaded temper. Rowena had flipped out before like this over mess-ups, including the time I’d accidentally spilled coffee on her expensive cream-colored suit. Boy, that was not a fun day.

  But Mason knew her better than anyone. If he said she’d calm down, she’d eventually calm down. Maybe there was no need to panic.

  “Besides,” he added, drawling out his words, “I have an important project for you to head up. This is your chance to be of service to the league, Jenna.”

  I sniffed, but my ears perked up at Mason’s teasing tone. Over the last six months I’d not-so-subtly hinted to him I was ready to take on more relevant tasks in the crime-fighting world…and not just making sure the rips were repaired in his uniform.

  The bastard knew he had me hooked.

  “Well, make sure to tell her it’s your fault, not mine. I shouldn’t have to pay for your—” I almost said ‘crime,’ but stopped myself. Mason was super touchy about anything that didn’t paint him in a heroic light. “For your acts,” I finally said.

  “I said I’d take care of it. Now get over here.” He hung up.

  I stared at the phone for a few seconds then turned it off. How did he always get his way? Was this job really worth the headache?

  The perks sure were. The awesome apartment, the excellent benefits, and not to mention the better-than-average paycheck made suffering Mason’s eccentricities worth it.

  And given how the job with my last employer had gone, I’d learned the hard way to not take a steady income for granted. I was still paying off the credit card debt I’d incurred because the paychecks from my previous job kept bouncing.

  Last year, after listening to me whine for a straight month, my sister Amy had gotten fed up and begged Mason to give me this position. And I was overall pretty happy about it, until this drama with Britney started.

  Amy. Maybe she could help with the Rowena dilemma. I dialed her cell.

  No answer.

  “Ames,” I said to her voicemail, “I’m in a bit of a pickle here. Call me back ASAP.” I hung up.

  Quickly I grabbed the coffee jar from my cupboard and scooped two huge spoonfuls of coffee into the filter then poured water into the reservoir and turned the pot on. I’d be running on pure caffeine today. Good times.

  Maybe Mason would take pity on me and let me doze in the employee lounge for an hour or two. Because there was only so much caffeine in the world, and I knew it wasn’t going to last all day in my system. So unless they started handing out IV drips of coffee, I’d need to crash at some point.

  Grumbling under my breath, I rushed through a shower, threw on the first clean outfit I could find, tugged my hair into a quick ponytail and dashed off to work, my coffee stowed away in a traveling mug. My hands clutched tightly to the steering wheel as my manic-slash-tired eyeballs scanned everything in sight.

  Every few seconds I glanced through the windows around me, trying to tune into the hyperaware parts of my senses, just in case Rowena or one of her ilk showed up out of nowhere to bust a cap in my ass. Of course, given I had no hyperaware parts of my senses, this futile exercise (along with the massive ingestion of caffeine) only fed into my jitteriness.

  By the time I arrived at the office, I was a nervous mess.

  I threw open Mason’s office door, stalking inside. “I’m here,” I said to him. “What’s going on?”

  He glanced up at me, blinking as his eyes raked over me. “You look…disheveled.”

  I glanced down at my outfit. The pockets of my skirt faced forward and backward instead of sitting on the sides of my hips. Whoops.

  I twisted it ninety degrees. Okay, so I didn’t look like my usual composed self, but he could give me a break about it today, of all days.

  “Sorry. I was more concerned about making it here on time.” I still felt churlish with him but tried to not let that seep into my voice. I didn’t want to blow this opportunity. “So, what was this important job you talked about?”

  Mason nodded and stood. I noticed the buttons of his pale-blue dress shirt strained against his gut. Nice. Note to self: buy that man some larger shirts, STAT.

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said, a mysterious smile on his face. “Follow me.”

  We went down the hall. Carrie, who was parked behind the front desk, perked up when Mason came by. She fluffed her massively teased blond hair. “Mr. Wallings, wait!”

  “Back in a minute,” Mason threw out over his shoulder, and sped up to pass her desk.

  With a big huff Carrie pulled herself out of her chair, waving a handful of papers in her hammy fist. She crossed the twenty feet to reach us, panting when she made it to his side. “But Mr. Wallings, you have a bunch of calls you need to return. One was from—”

  He held
up a hand, already moving away from her. “I’ll call them later.”

  “But—” The phone rang, interrupting Carrie. She glanced ruefully back at her desk.

  Mason took the opportunity to flee. We dashed through the door to the right of the elevators, a room I’d never been in before.

  I glanced around the darkened room, unable to gauge its size. When Mason locked the door behind us and flicked on the light switch, I was surprised at how small it was. Less than ten by ten.

  Next, I was surprised to see it contained nothing but a beer cooler on a small table.

  “Your important job is for me to get you more Heineken?” A heavy groan escaped me before I could stop it. Wonderful.

  My shoulders sank in disappointment. This was why I rushed over here, putting my life in danger to help out the League of Heroes? I felt vastly ripped off. At least he could have sent me on a fun errand, like buying a cool new gadget for his utility belt.

  Mason pushed me forward. “Open the cooler, but don’t touch what’s inside. It’s unstable.”

  At his words my heart instantly jumped into my stomach then back up to my chest, beating erratically behind my ribcage. I stepped forward, sliding the handled top to the side. A bright purple glow emanated from a large crystal, nestled in soft black fabric.

  “Is this what I think it is?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from the jewel. It seemed to glow from within. My fingers drifted toward the edge of the cooler, sliding down inside, just a bit lower—

  Mason shut the lid. I pulled my fingers out barely in time. “Told you, no touching. Yup, this is the changing crystal. It’s the Midwest League’s time to guard it. Or, more specifically, your time.”

  * * *

  For about the four hundredth time since I’d left the office I jerked my hand away from the beer cooler sitting in the passenger seat of my car. I could see why the jewel needed to be protected; it seemed to beckon all those around to touch it, to see what would happen. Including me.

  Everyone knew what would happen though. Even if you weren’t a superhero or a villain, you knew about the legend of the changing crystal: if you were a regular Joe Schmoe, you’d be granted a superpower. Only problem was, you never knew what you were getting—hence, the risk. The crystal granted powers randomly.

  I remember Amy telling me about one guy given special permission to use the crystal, who’d gotten the power to shapeshift into any sort of cat-like animal…and another who obtained the power to turn into grass. Yeah, that was a handy superpower—what would he do, tickle the villain’s feet to death?

  Even worse, though, was when a superhero touched the crystal, because it would either strip his powers away completely or change him into something else. Which was why the crystal had to be protected. That was also why it was extremely difficult to get permission to use the crystal. The process required dozens of signed, stamped, approved and filed forms, as well as background checks, interviews and the like. The red tape alone discouraged most people from even trying.

  I glanced at the unassuming beer cooler beside me and laughed. What a clever disguise. No one would think such an important artifact would be hidden there.

  Mason had explained to me the crystal rotated between the superhero leagues every few weeks at irregular intervals, so as to protect it. No one, except the league that currently had the jewel and the one being handed the jewel, knew its current location. However, since there were scads of leagues around the world, it had been several years since the Midwest had gotten its chance to protect it.

  As far as I’d heard, no one had ever successfully managed to steal the crystal either, so it was basically a guard job left to whatever superhero was available. This time around, it had fallen into Mason’s hands. Mason, however, had foisted that job onto me. Which naturally made me nervous, because I’d lost my car keys more times than I cared to admit. But he convinced me it was a cake job that would earn me “street cred” with the league. Plus, who would think to look at me for it? I was just a regular person—the perfect cover.

  Honestly, I think he just didn’t want to be bothered with the job. But given that I was eager to increase my role in the league’s dealings, I’d agreed to handle it for him. Which was why I was now cruising down Euclid Avenue with the world’s most dangerous weapon beside me, hidden in the most unlikely of places.

  I made it safely home and, gripping the cooler as tightly as possible, strolled to my apartment like I hadn’t a care in the world. I couldn’t even tell Britney about the job, so I stored the cooler away in my closet as soon as I stepped inside.

  “Oh, you’re home!” Britney’s bubbly voice said from the bathroom, talking loud over the sound of the shower. “I just finished coloring my hair. I’m rinsing it now. Be right out!”

  “You got it.” I headed to the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke, then sank into the couch cushions. Finally, a moment of peace. I took a long draw from the drink, glad for a few seconds to relax, then plopped the can onto a coaster and closed my eyes.

  A shrill scream from the bathroom jerked me up and off the couch instantly. Oh God, Britney!

  Nerves on edge, I ran to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway…and stared at Britney’s massive pile of wet, fiery orange hair. Her head looked like a flaming pumpkin.

  She turned to face me, the damp towel in hand, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. How do I fix it?”

  “Oh, geez.” Here I thought her life was in danger. I stepped in the bathroom and picked up the hair color box. Number 22—Xtreme Red. “Honey, you can’t go this shade. Your natural color is too light.”

  “H-help m-me,” she sobbed, hiccupping her words.

  I wrinkled up my face as I thought about how to handle the situation. A small, wicked part of me almost felt glad something like this had happened, given all the fuss (to say the least) she’d caused me over secretly dating Mason. But since that wasn’t very charitable, I tried my best to tamp the thought down.

  “Okay, let’s think here,” I said. My pocket vibrated, surprising me, and I jumped slightly. “Hold on a sec. That’s my phone.”

  I stepped into my bedroom and answered the buzzing cell. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Peterson, this is Raven Gale from the League of Heroes. Your presence is immediately requested by the council.” The woman’s voice sounded pleasant, but adamant.

  I swallowed hard. This didn’t bode well, especially since non-superheroes were not typically allowed to enter the League of Heroes’ main building. It was an insanely guarded place, and I’d never dared to do more than gaze up at it from the bottom of its white marble steps. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ll discuss the details at the meeting. Can you make it?”

  I heard Britney sniffling in the bathroom. Well, the hair problem would have to wait. “I’m on my way.”

  After confirming directions, I hung up then headed back to my cousin. She was slumped on the toilet seat, her eyes blotchy red. A sting of guilt ran through me at my earlier schadenfreude. She was still family, after all.

  “I need to run out for a little bit,” I told her. “I’ll pick up some hair color while I’m out, and we’ll fix this.”

  She nodded pathetically.

  “Go grab a beer and chill out on the couch. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  I grabbed the cooler and my purse and headed for the car, wondering what awaited me at the League of Heroes.

  Chapter 3

  “Jenna Peterson,” the stern-faced Storm Wave said to me in his gravelly voice, “we understand you’ve been entrusted with the care of the changing crystal.”

  Standing in the massive white room with expansive windows framed by large Grecian pillars, I clutched the cooler in my hand and tried my best to not look intimidated. Hard to do when faced with two rows of a dozen of the Midwest’s most powerful superheroes. I’d never seen so many spandex-clad people staring at me in my life. A veritable rainbow of colors, from the most blinding of yellow
s to the darkest of browns and blacks.

  Their ranks included Mason and Rowena in front row center, of course. Rowena fixed a blank, calm look on her face, but I could see the slightest hint of a smile curving the edges of her mouth as she eyed me. I had a gut feeling she had to be behind all this…whatever this was.

  “That’s correct. The crystal is with me,” I answered, shooting a look at Mason, silently urging him to say something. He nodded at me, his face confident. Whatever—like that set me at ease. Hey, thanks for the help, Mason.

  Another superhero, Morphero, spoke up. “We understand there’s been an incident recently that calls into question your abilities to…undertake the guardianship of the crystal.” He paused. “Do you know the incident of which I speak?”

  Incident? Wait…was he talking about the bracelets? If so, it became quickly apparent he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Well, if Mason was going to make me fry in the hot spot, I wasn’t going down alone.

  I stared at Mason, slitting my eyes. “I assume you’re referring to the identical bracelets The Machine sent to his mistress and Rapida, which I accidentally mixed up and misdelivered.”

  Mason sat, unmoved, unflinching. The guy was as cool as the other side of the pillow. No doubt he wasn’t worried—legend of his adulterous ways was probably nothing new to the League of Heroes, though I doubt it had ever been blurted out in such a blunt manner. Or so factually confirmed to be truth.

  A couple of soft intakes of breath were all the response I received from the rest of the group.

  “Yes,” Morphero said, “that’s what I mean.” He squirmed slightly in his seat.

  “May I speak?” Rowena stood, draping a slender hand across her chest. She dragged in a deep breath, dropping her gaze to the floor as the other superheroes turned to face her. “The Machine has apologized to me for what happened. We’re working through our problems together. But that isn’t the concern I have right now.”

  She raised her eyes to me. In all my life I’d never had eyes as cold and as dark look at me like that. It shook me to the bone.