Leaning my head against the coolness of the pseudo-glass, I took a deep breath. The last thing I needed right now was to be recognized.
Mike had loved it. He would preen himself like a fancy peacock before we went out for dinner, the rare time that I convinced him that I was going to go stir-crazy if I had to cook one more time or have food delivered. He’d get into these tight jeans and shave off that day-old stubble that he seemed to have all the time, never enough for a full beard…
I slammed my head against the window, enough to garner an angry glare from the other passengers. Couldn’t afford to spend time there, I had to get back in the game.
Except right now I was racing the game itself.
Sweat ran down my back as I fought my way to the back doors, jostling a few kids a bit harder than I should have but I was beginning to get a wee bit claustrophobic—not only from the people but also the electromagnetic waves overlapping and crashing into each other when I tried to focus through and past the headache.
The Bookworm’s Hideout was more or less as I remembered it, a small hole-in-the-wall used bookstore sitting on Queen Street West squashed between a specialty condom shop and a fancy chocolate store. Of course when I had been the manager they had been a used CD store and an electronic surplus outlet, but you can’t have everything. The light blue paint was still peeling off in strips that tempted you to rip them off, and people had and did.
I stopped to look at the bargain bin in the front out of routine, finding the usual obscure titles. All down to a dollar, and if I knew David Tierney, he’d give them away by the bucketful if you made him a good offer.
A sudden tapping on the window caught my attention, causing me to step back a pace and nearly into a crowd of giggling schoolgirls racing along the sidewalk, too busy staring at their cell phones to notice the vagabond in their path. David smiled at me through the glass and motioned me to come inside.
“My girl!” The elderly man enveloped me in a bear hug. “I was so worried about you.” He hustled me towards the back past shelves and shelves of books, practically carrying me. “You must need a good cup of tea.”
The back of the store had been set up as a small sitting area years ago, an ancient coffeemaker spurting out what passed for coffee for anyone in the store. The rickety old table also held not only a small hotplate with a classic kettle usually full of water, but an old Brown Betty teapot, the fat body still keeping its shiny coating despite being used and abused for years.
David gently pushed me down in one of the overstuffed armchairs and rushed to turn the burner on. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?”
“Yes. No. And a definite yes.” I slumped into the cushions. “David, I screwed up. Big time.”
“Bah.” The white-haired man waved a hand in my direction as he pulled out a pair of teabags from a battered Tetley’s Tea canister. “You’re here and you’re alive and that’s all that matters.”
“Mike’s dead.”
He paused, his attention on the teapot. “Yes. I know.”
Sinking deeper into the paisley fabric, I shook my head. “I fucked up.”
He glared at me, his face a scarlet red. “Don’t say that.” His arms flew around me in another tight hug, and suddenly I realized that he was crying, had been crying since he had started heating the water. “All I could think of when I was watching that fight was where were you and what were you doing and if you were already dead…”
Burying my face in the well-worn brown cardigan, I began to sob as well, finally breaking down. The soft wool accepted my tears without comment until I forced myself out of the warmth and back into the chair.
“Kettle’s boiling.” I sniffled, giving us both a dignified exit.
“Yes.” David turned back to the Brown Betty, filling it with the hot water. Dabbing at his eyes with a faded white handkerchief, he cleared his throat. “Now, what brings you back home? I tell you, we had an awful fright here when you disappeared like that. And then suddenly you’re on the telly and we’re seeing you beat down the bad guys…” A grin touched his wrinkled face. “And couldn’t you have gotten into something with less clothing, more leather? Now, that Dominatrix chick, she…”
I chuckled, crossing my legs as he prepared the small tray. “Believe me, you don’t want to be around her when she’s in a good mood or in a bad one. She’s…” The words caught in my throat as I remembered the scrolling list from the café. “She’s dead.”
“Yes, yes she is.” He pressed the mug into my hand. “Still two sugars and cream, yes?”
My chest felt tight as if David’s hug had never ended. “You still got that nephew who does computer hacks?”
David tilted his head to one side. “Technically, he does computer security. Anything else would be illegal.” One eyebrow rose slightly. “And why would you be thinking of him after all this time?”
“Because I need him to save my life.”
Chapter Three
“Jessie’s working for Alliance Electronics.” David walked back towards the front of the store. “Here, let me close things up, give us some privacy.” Flipping the sign over, he looked out onto the street before returning, picking his way through the dusty piles of books. “Not a good day anyway.”
“Never was.” I couldn’t help smiling as the warm tea began to settle in my stomach, helped by a shortbread cookie from the stack set out for visitors. “I used to wonder how you could afford to pay me.”
“I kept you on because I needed a sexy woman at the front to lure in the boys.” He laughed. “When you worked here, I never thought of you possibly flying around and beating up supervillains. Quite a shock, as you can imagine.” Shaking his head, he sat down in the armchair opposite me, cradling his own mug of tea. “I’ll put in a call to Jessie, see if he can come on over.”
“Do you keep in touch?” The tea was getting lukewarm. I reached over and refreshed it with a dash of fresh tea from the Brown Betty.
“We chat. He’s come a long way since you left; you’d hardly recognize the kid. Wandered for a bit on the wild side and then figured out that he’d make more money enforcing the laws than waiting to get caught.” He winced, shifting his weight from side to side. “Bad hip,” David offered by way of explanation. “Been on the waiting list for a replacement for months.”
“I’m sorry.” The last of the shortbread cookies disappeared into my mouth. “You should have called me. I could have used my connections…”
“Bah.” He waved a hand in the air. “You were busy being a superhero. That’s what you do. No time for the civilians.”
“David…” I gripped the mug with whitened knuckles. “It’s all a game.”
He frowned, an air of confusion around him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s all fixed, David.” The weight on my chest lifted just a bit. “The fights, the battles, it’s all arranged. Think of that fake wrestling, taken to a new extreme.”
His dark eyes scanned my face, probably searching to see if I was joking. “You’re serious.”
“Totally.” I drained my mug. “It was all set up, everything from the start.”
“No.” David shifted again in the seat, cursing under his breath. “That’s not possible. We watched you and the others…” He stopped, studying a tear in the ancient carpet under us.
A small niggling thought finally broke free at the back of my head, charging through the headache pain and to the forefront. “Oh, my God.” A piece of the puzzle fell into place. The fights between the superheroes and supervillains ranked high in the television ratings. Every station raced to cover us, tossing everything off the air to beam our battles around the globe. If you had a television or a computer you could see the constant fighting between good and evil, super versus super.
I knew they were all prearranged. David didn’t. Anyone not on the inside wouldn’t know. And if I were from another planet, another world, what would I think if I looked towards our little green and blue globe and tuned into th
e local news?
“What?” David studied my face. “Are you okay? You seem so pale.”
“Do you have any painkillers?” I tapped the side of my head. “I know it sounds clichéd, but I just flew in from NYC and boy, am I tired.”
Chuckling, he got to his feet. “Got a bottle back here. Might actually be yours.”
As he shuffled away into the back room I leaned forward and put my head between my legs, just in case I fainted before he got back. It wasn’t likely, but with the revelation bursting around the pain I was definitely in need of something, and I knew David didn’t keep booze on the premises.
“Here you go.” A hand appeared under my face, clutching a pair of white tablets. “Are you okay, Jo?”
“Not really.” Dry-swallowing the pair, I reached for the Brown Betty and poured the last few dribbles into my mug. “David, what’s been going on with the aliens?”
He stared at me, his forehead furrowed as he settled back into the chair. “What? You were there. You know what happened.”
“Yes, but I want to know what you saw.” I tapped the side of my head. “Humor me, please.” The edges of my vision began to clear.
“Well, the ship arrived and this one guy got out. Cleaned the clocks of the heroes who went to take him on, took out the villains who showed up…took out Metal Mike.” He glanced at me, shaking his head. “I liked him. You made a good team.”
“Yes, yes we did.” I tamped down the pain. “Then what?”
“Then it happened all over the world.” One hand gestured at the ceiling where the exposed ductwork and thick wooden timbers were still visible. “Big fat green oranges dropping down over Paris, Moscow…” David scowled. “I think they’re still the bad guys, right? The Russians?”
“Depends on the day.” The pain had begun to diminish, now only a dull thudding behind my eyes. “And everyone sent out their best, right?”
“Sure.” The elderly man sounded surprised. “The EU sent out Lovely Liv and Maggie Red.” Lowering his head, he continued. “They didn’t last long. Then Erik the Viking showed up and Tunnel Tim.”
“And they all went down.” I glanced over at a stack of hardcover art books waiting to be filed, the daily paper sitting atop the mess. Grabbing it, I began to flip through the pages, studying the pseudo-analysis being tossed out by all and sundry. “Nothing here at all.” The crackpot conspiracies were all over the place, from the alien invaders being part of the New-World-Order to the idea that the aliens were our ancient ancestors reclaiming their homeland. And, of course, nothing that came close to what I feared was the truth.
“Ah!” David’s cry brought me back out of the paper. He held up a cell phone. “Jessie’s on his way. Says he’d love to meet the famous Surf and see what he can do for her.” David laughed. “He’s still the same smartass you remember. Never forgave you for not coming back when you made it big, you know.”
I winced. The last thing I wanted to hear was my stage name. “Just call me Jo, okay?”
He held up his hands. “Hey, I never liked that one for you, really. Not very sexy, you know?”
My eyes were aching as I put the paper back down and rubbed my fingers on my jeans to get rid of the black newsprint. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” My attention went to the empty tray. “I don’t mean to be a bad guest, but is there a chance of getting anything else to eat? I could barely afford to get the streetcar here.”
The elderly man got to his feet so fast I worried that he’d break his hip in front of me. “What sort of manners do I have. Let me go in the back and see if I have anything in the mini-fridge—or would you like some pizza?”
My mouth began to water. “Isn’t it a bit early?”
“Pshaw! The Two-For-One three doors down have their ovens going already. And they love an early order to justify warming them up.” He pointed at the near-empty teapot. “You get a second pot going and I’ll put in the order. Double pepperoni and mushrooms, yes?”
I nodded, relishing the welcoming embrace of the cushions. As David disappeared into the rear of the store, I refilled the kettle with some bottled water and set it on the hot plate.
Coming home hadn’t been part of the plan. Any plan. Not in my wildest dreams had I ever envisioned returning to Toronto, not as a super and not as a regular person. I had kissed all that off when a mugger had slammed a brick into the side of my head one late night on my way home.
I must have closed my eyes and drifted off for a few minutes because the next thing I knew the kettle was whistling for attention. Before I could get it David had grabbed it off the hot plate.
“You are tired. Let’s get you stretched out here for a few minutes.” A short fat footstool materialized from out of one of the aisles, along with a crocheted afghan in southwestern colors, of all things. One went under my feet and the other tucked around my shoulders in seconds, almost as fast as Lightning Jack would have done it. “Pizza will be here in ten minutes. You rest. You’ve had one hell of a day.”
I opened my mouth to dispute it and then stopped. “Yeah, I have.” Shifting to one side, I tucked the afghan in around me. “Please don’t let anyone know I’m here.”
David let out a huff of indignation. “As if. This was your home before; it’s your home now.” He looked upward. “Apartment’s still there if you need it.”
“Hmm.” My eyes were heavy. “I’ll think about it.” Right after I figured out how I was going to save the world and my own life.
I must have dozed off again because the next thing I remember was having my senses assaulted with the delicious scent of melted cheese and dough. Struggling to sit up straight in the chair, I took the paper plate, which was bending under the weight of two huge slices of pizza, from David. A refreshed mug of tea sat on the table beside me.
“Jessie’s almost here. Be another ten minutes. He’s looking for some decent parking.”
“Downtown?” I mumbled through a thick pepperoni slice. “He’s a fool.”
“As usual. But you know him, always looking to save a dime.” He daintily chewed on a crust. “So, how’s he going to help you out?”
“Hopefully by doing some of that computer magic he’s so good at.” The pizza tasted better than the pizza in New York that Mike had had delivered whenever he had a craving for what he called “real” pizza. “I’ll explain it when he gets here.”
“Good idea. Now eat.” One aged hand pointed at the large cardboard box on the floor. “I’m an old man and I can’t eat all of this by myself.” He watched me intently as I grabbed another slice and maneuvered it onto the damp plate. “I saw some more news at the pizza place. Everyone’s got a television up for people to watch while they wait.”
I froze, a long string of melted cheese stretching from my mouth to the plate. “How bad?”
“Well…” David leaned back, rubbing his chin. “Right now it’s at a sort of standstill. The United Nations has called a special meeting to get everyone together—that is whoever doesn’t mind meeting under the shadow of that huge fat ship. There’s been no fighting for a few hours.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, the U.S. military lobbed a few shells at the one sitting over Seattle and they bounced off, doing more damage when they fell back to the ground than the aliens did. A few strafing runs by aircraft, but it doesn’t look like anyone is really doing more than just posturing for the press. Not after seeing so many heroes fall.” He took another sip of the cooling tea. “Funny thing is the alien guys, they’re not advancing. Not attacking the cities, not attacking the airplanes, no demands, no nothing. The fellows went back inside the ships after the fighting stopped—which is a good thing, I guess.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Explains a lot.”
The man slumped into his chair. “You going to explain this all?”
“I’ve got a theory. But first I have to get Jessie working on something, otherwise it’s not going to matter what I think.”
As if on cue a rapping came at the front door of
the bookstore, bringing us both to our feet. David pointed at my chair, shaking his head.
“I’ll get it. Best not to tempt fate by having too many people see you.”
I responded by finishing off the pizza slice in my hand as he walked out of sight.
Out of curiosity I raised my free hand and collected a few of the waves floating around—the books, the table, even the Brown Betty. Clenching my teeth, I focused the electrical energy onto my fingertips, a new trick I had been working on with Mike’s direction.
“But I like the gloves,” I had protested, stealing the Sunday comics from his side of the table.
“Sure, they make it easier to do stuff if you’ve got them on.” He glanced over the business section. “But what if you don’t have them on?”
“Like when?” I snorted. “We’re always given time to suit up before a performance.”
“Yeah. But what if…” His dark chocolate hand reached around the paper to grab the last croissant off the plate, showing off his wristband. “I’m just saying.”
I felt a shiver down my spine, staring at the thin metal band, the recessed number pad and button almost out of sight. Mike never made a threat, never mentioned it, but it hung between us like a warped Damocles’ sword. My eyes narrowed. “You know something I don’t know?”
He lowered the paper an inch, meeting my stare. “I know lots of things you don’t know, girl. I’m your Guardian.” His tone was low and serious. “Don’t forget that.” The paper made a shuffling sound as he raised it up again, hiding his face. “Just think about it. Be a nice trick for the audience, hmm?”
A blue spark leapt from my index finger to my thumb. Only a small one, hardly enough to do much more than shock a person with the intensity of someone shuffling his feet along the carpet, but it was a start.
“Jo?” A man appeared in the narrow hallway. “Jo Tanis?” He stretched out his hand as I got to my feet and tossed the afghan to one side.
Blaze of Glory Page 3