Fandemic

by Jennifer Estep

  Most people, Abby included, thought the entire Slaves for Superhero Sex club was made up of such rabid fans. But really, the Obsessors, as they were called, were a small minority in the group, as were the Villifiers, the people who worshipped villains and tried to get hired on as henchmen and women. Most folks in the club simply loved all things superhero and ubervillain, just like I did. Still, I couldn’t judge either faction. At least, not until I gave up my annual nuclear power plant tour.

  During the Valentine’s Day party, I’d spotted several giggling couples sneaking off to the darker, quieter, more secluded parts of the auditorium to have some alone time with each other. Instead of chasing after heroes and villains, the couples were pretending that they were the real deals tonight, instead of just regular guys and gals dressed in spandex and leather and sporting whips and chains. But I couldn’t fault them for that either, given the orange-red fabric that currently clung to my own body like a second skin—

  WHOOSH!

  A violent wind swept through the auditorium, hard enough to make my black hair fly around my face. The wind gusted again and again, sending all the comic books on the vendors’ tables swirling up into the air, rattling the pink candy conversation hearts in their glass dishes, and making the heart balloons attached to the bar whip back and forth like they were caught in the middle of a tornado. It was a tornado, all right—a superhero-fueled one.

  The wind died down as suddenly as it had sprung up, and a tall, lean man appeared on the dance floor, right in the middle of all the grooving couples. He wore an opalescent white costume that shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, along with matching sneakers from Bella Bulluci’s latest collection. A pair of wings outlined in silver, his superhero symbol, stretched across his chest, and a wing-shaped mask covered his face, although it didn’t even come close to hiding his wide grin.

  I recognized him immediately.

  Swifte, one of Bigtime’s most popular superheroes.

  And the guy who’d broken my heart.

  Chapter Two

  Everyone froze, eyes widening and mouths gaping open at the sudden appearance of the speedy superhero in their midst. The music screeched to a stop, and silence filled the auditorium.

  Swifte looked around, then slapped his hands on his hips, stuck his chest out, and lifted his chin, striking the classic, conquering superhero pose. If he’d been wearing a cape, it would have been fluttering dramatically behind him, even though there was no longer any wind inside the auditorium.

  When people realized that Swifte—the real Swifte—had shown up for the party, all the dancers around him started yelling, cheering, and clapping. Within seconds, so did everyone else in the auditorium, from the partygoers to the vendors to the bartenders.

  Everyone except me.

  Instead of hooting and hollering, I raised my hand to my chest and rubbed my heart, trying to soothe the sudden ache there, the same terrible ache I felt whenever I saw Swifte, whether it was on the Superhero News Network, racing by on the street, or in person at events like this one.

  “Show-off,” Wynter muttered, although a fond note of affection warmed her cool voice.

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “He does love to make a dramatic entrance.”

  Folks were already clustered three deep around Swifte, holding out their posters, bags, toys, and T-shirts for him to sign, which he was doing at lightning-fast speed, thanks to his superpower. One woman forced her way to the front of the crowd and shoved a filmy bit of pink lace right into his face.

  “Swifte! Swifte! You have to sign my bra!” The woman stopped yelling and batted her lashes at him. “Along with anything else you’d like.”

  My hand dropped from my heart like a lead weight and balled into a tight fist.

  Wynter noticed the motions, along with the anger pinching my lips. “Uh-oh. Don’t be jealous and go all Yeti Girl on me.”

  “I’m not jealous,” I muttered, even though I totally was.

  “Right.” She drawled out the word. “And Hot Stuff and I get along like peanut butter and chocolate.”

  “Sure. If peanut butter and chocolate were archenemies who wanted nothing more than to destroy each other.”

  Wynter shrugged. “Just trying to cheer you up, Piper.”

  She winced as soon as the last word left her mouth. Too late, she realized her mistake—that she’d called me by my real name, something she wasn’t supposed to know if we were complete strangers like she’d claimed earlier.

  “Snowballs,” she cursed.

  But I was too busy staring at Swifte to care about Wynter’s slipup. He finished signing the woman’s bra and handed it back to her. But before he could turn to autograph the next person’s bag, the woman looped her bra around his neck, pulled him up next to her, and planted her lips on his.

  More hoots and hollers rose up, along with catcalls and several loud atta-girls! You would think that a superspeedy superhero like Swifte could easily duck out of a surprise lip lock, but he made no move to disengage himself from the woman.

  Disgusted, I turned away from them. I wasn’t hungry. Not anymore. Not even for Caveman Stan mini cheeseburgers. All I wanted to do right now was get away from the stomach-churning sight of Swifte kissing another woman.

  Still, I took a moment to be polite to Wynter. “Thanks for coming to the dance. I’m sure all the club members appreciate it. I’ll get your autograph next time. See you later.”

  I stomped past the buffet tables, my gaze fixed on the exit doors at the back of the auditorium. Maybe if I was lucky, Swifte would be so busy smooching his adoring fan that he wouldn’t even realize I had been here and had seen the whole thing—

  “The spotlight!” someone yelled. “Watch out! It’s going to fall!”

  I cringed and looked up, dreading but already knowing exactly what I would find. Sure enough, I stood directly below said spotlight, which was dangling by a single thin wire, one that was sparking, cracking, and flashing a sinister blue-white with electricity. Even as my gaze locked on to the spotlight, the wire snapped free from the ceiling, and the heavy metal contraption started to fall—zooming toward me at warp speed.

  Abby always joked that I was in the wrong place at the right time, but her words were all too true. I didn’t have luck as a superpower, not like Bella Bulluci did, but I must have been born under an unlucky star to get into as much trouble as I did. For some reason, I was always around when bad things happened. If the Skyline Bridge collapsed, my car would be the one right in the middle of the span. If a freak storm surged up out of Bigtime Bay, I’d be the one fishing out on the end of the pier. If a fire started in Tip-Top Tower, I’d be the one trapped in an elevator on the highest floor.

  And it wasn’t like I put myself into these situations on purpose. Not like the Obsessors did. They just happened to me, over and over and over again. I must have done something truly horrible in another life to be put into so much danger in this one. Or maybe my karma was just that bad.

  I would have been perfectly happy developing superpowers and rescuing myself from all these dangerous situations. Or just calling the Fearless Five hotline for help or even good, old-fashioned 911. But instead, it seemed like every time I got into trouble, there was always a hero waiting to rescue me. Granny Cane, Grandpa Pain, Debonair, Black Samba. Even Lulu Lo had saved me once by pushing me out of the way of a runaway horse carriage in Paradise Park, and she wasn’t even an official hero. Although she was engaged to one, since she and Henry “Hermit” Harris were getting married soon, another event that Abby was planning.

  Maybe I really had been born under a lucky star, instead of an unlucky one, since I kept getting rescued by all these heroes. At least being in so many bad situations made it easier to get their autographs to add to my collection.

  Those were the odd, jumbled, nonsensical thoughts that raced through my mind as I watched the spotlight fall. My brain finally kicked into gear and told my legs to move-move-move, but even as I surged forward, trying to get out
of the way, I knew that I was going to be too slow to escape the death that was dropping down right on top of my head—

  At the very last second, just before the spotlight would have turned me into Pancake Piper, a body slammed into mine and knocked us both forward and out of the way.

  BOOM!

  For several seconds, there was just noise. The loud, jarring, echoing crash-crash-crash of the spotlight hitting the auditorium floor, then smashing, snapping, and splintering into a thousand pieces. The crunch-crunch of metal tearing apart, the tinkle-tinkle of glass breaking, and the squeal-squeal-squeal of screws ripping loose. But through it all, that warm, strong, lean body covered my own, shielding me from the fallout.

  The destructive noises finally stopped, although they were quickly replaced by hurried footsteps, concerned whispers, and louder and louder shouts for someone to get some help in here already.

  I opened my eyes to find Swifte staring down at me, his light blue gaze locking with my dark brown one.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a low, husky tone that always sent shivers down my spine, even now, when we were the center of attention.

  “Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse with all sorts of emotions that I wanted to keep hidden from everyone, but especially him.

  I hesitated, then reached up and brushed some bits of glass out of his sandy-brown hair. Swifte’s eyes softened, and he cupped my cheek. I turned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin, even through his white, opalescent glove.

  “Move, move, move! Official superhero chaperone coming through!” Wynter’s voice thundered out, and she dropped to her knees beside us. “Are you guys okay?”

  I jerked my face away, and Swifte dropped his hand and hissed out a breath. The next instant, he was back on his feet. He leaned down and held out his hand in normal speed. I sighed, then took it, and he slowly, gently, carefully pulled me up onto my own feet.

  “Are you okay?” Swifte repeated the question.

  I gave him a thin, brittle smile. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. You know that. Thanks for the rescue…again.”

  Swifte gave me a short, curt nod, not quite looking at me the same way I was not quite looking at him. Wynter’s gaze snapped back and forth between the two of us, picking up on the weird, tense vibe. But when she realized that we were both fine and that neither one of us was going to look at or talk to the other, she faced the crowd and started shooing away the gawkers.

  “All right, folks,” Wynter called out. “Show’s over. As you were. Except for you two over there by the buffet tables. This is a party, not a hotel. Go get a room if you want to do that sort of thing. What? What did you say? No, I do not want to join you for a threesome!”

  Wynter kept arguing with the enthusiastic couple, and the crowd slowly dispersed. The music cranked back up into high gear, and a minute later, everyone was eating, talking, drinking, dancing, and partying just as hard as they had been before.

  But Swifte stayed where he was in front of me. He drew in a breath and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. I sucked in a breath too, my treacherous, traitorous heart rising with hope and anticipation—

  “Oh! Oh, my! That was so heroic!” The woman with the lacy pink bra was back, wiggling in between us.

  Swifte tried to look past her at me, but she kept moving from side to side, blocking his view. I didn’t know what he’d been about to say, but it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have changed anything between us. Nothing I had said had kept him from breaking up with me all those months ago. Bitter much, Piper? Oh, yeah.

  So I left Swifte to deal with his adoring fan and hurried out of the auditorium, once again wishing that I had a superpower.

  Because now was one of those times when the ability to disappear would have definitely come in handy.

  * * *

  Sick of all things Swifte and superhero-related, I left the auditorium, stripped off my flame-shaped Fiera mask, and retrieved my coat and bag of collectibles from the checkroom.

  I shrugged into the gray wool and pulled on my matching fleece gloves. The coat ruined the sleek look of my Fiera costume, but I didn’t care. Hearts might be warm with love, romance, and other ooey-gooey sentiments on Valentine’s Day, but February was still one of the coldest months in Bigtime, and I wasn’t walking home in paper-thin spandex when it was only five degrees outside. Too bad I wasn’t really Fiera. Then I could have just used my own fire powers to keep me warm.

  I headed toward the exit doors, waving to Eddie Edgars, the college-age security guard who worked the front desk at the convention center during many of the events. Eddie gave me a short, distracted wave and flipped another page in his comic book. Curious, I changed direction and walked over to see what he was reading. Eddie was a fanboy himself, and he’d gotten into the spirit of tonight’s event. Instead of his usual guard uniform, he sported a green-and-white outfit with a flowing cape in honor of Mr. Sage, the Fearless Five member with psychic powers.

  “Hi, Eddie.”

  “Hey, Piper.” His gaze flicked over me. “Great costume, from what I can see of it. Really authentic.”

  “Thanks. Yours too. What are you reading?”

  Eddie showed me the cover, which featured Talon standing on top of a building in all his cobalt-blue, leather-clad glory, holding up his crossbow gun as though he were going to shoot a bolt straight into the moon.

  “It’s the latest Talon story by Confidante,” Eddie said. “The one about him taking out Bandit and Tycoon a few weeks ago.”

  Confidante was another one of Bigtime’s heroes, one who was sort of like a gossip monger for the hero-villain set. She churned out comic book after comic book chronicling the latest adventures of the city’s heroes and villains, including the Fearless Five, Debonair, Wynter, and others. Somehow, she got all the inside scoop on all the heroes’ and villains’ fights and feuds—despite the fact that no one even knew what she looked like, much less who she actually was. Even I didn’t have a clue as to Confidante’s real identity.

  “That’s a really good issue. So much better than her recent Swifte series.”

  Eddie blinked. “You didn’t like the Swifte series? But I thought you were his number-one fan.”

  “Not anymore,” I muttered, trying to ignore the ache in my heart.

  Eddie gave me another strange look, so I plastered a smile on my face.

  “Anyway, I should be going. Early day tomorrow and all that.”

  “Good night, Piper.”

  “Good night, Eddie.”

  I left his desk, walked over to the revolving doors, and stepped outside. The winter air slapped me in the face, even colder than I’d expected, and I turned up the collar of my coat and tucked my chin down inside it as far as I could. My phone beeped, and I pulled it out of my pocket to check the message.

  I *finally* got her on the plane. Turning off our phones now. Take care of Rascal for us. See you in a week. W.

  I grinned. Looked like Wesley “Talon” Weston had made good on his secret plan to whisk Abby away for a much-needed vacation, since she’d been working twelve-hour days for the past few weeks, trying to get everything ready for the SSS dance and all the other Valentine’s Day dinners, engagement parties, and weddings she’d been planning. Good. My perfectionist friend needed the vacation, and it was going to be a great one. Wesley was flying them on his private plane to Cloudburst Falls to take in the sights there before they drove down to Ashland and then headed over to Cypress Mountain to do some skiing.

  Tell Abby not to worry. Going to get Rascal right now. Have fun! XOXO. P.

  I sent the message to both of them and waited for a response, but there wasn’t one, so I slid my phone into my pocket and pulled my gloves back onto my hands. Abby would probably call or text me tomorrow. Wesley might get her to turn off her phone for the rest of the night, but Abby would crack sooner or later and check her messages, if only to make sure that Rascal was okay and that there were no crises at A+ Events, her event-planning business.r />
  I was happy for my best friend, and I was so glad that she had such a great guy like Wesley in her life. Someone who was kind and thoughtful and totally in love with her. But it also made me feel a little sad, lonely, and depressed. Because I’d had a guy like that in my life too.

  And I’d gone and screwed it all up.

  The winter wind whistled down the street, reminding me yet again how cold it was and what a sad, sad cliché I was turning out to be, standing by myself and moping in the night. So I headed for Abby’s loft, which wasn’t far from the convention center.

  It had started snowing while I’d been at the SSS dance, and the fat, white flakes had already covered the sidewalks and softened the harsh edges of the buildings. I breathed in, enjoying the cold, crisp air after all the perfumes and colognes at the party. It was after midnight now, and technically not Valentine’s Day anymore, although strings of white, pink, and red lights glowed in many of the storefronts I passed. But the romantic colors and elaborate displays of white lace, pink hearts, and red roses did absolutely nothing to improve my decidedly blue mood, so I hurried on.

  I had just stepped onto Abby’s block when a particularly strong gust of wind whipped against my back, spraying snow in every direction. I sighed, knowing what I’d find when I finally managed to shove my hair back out of my face and blink away the icy flakes that had stuck to my eyelashes.

  Sure enough, Swifte was standing right in front of me.

  The superhero looked around, but the block was dark, except for a few lights that burned in the large brownstone across the street. The one that belonged to Jasper, one of Bigtime’s more intriguing and mysterious figures.