Karma Girl

by Jennifer Estep

  Sam’s silver eyes flicked over my body. I looked down at my ensemble, a less-than-glamorous combo of faded jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a T-shirt that read Love just weighs a woman down. A pink anvil covered with hearts crushed a woman to death on the front of the shirt. I cringed, aware once again of the enormous socioeconomic gap between us. I looked like a bag lady next to Sam.

  “I didn’t realize we were dressing up for dinner. If you give me a few minutes, I can change—”

  “No, no. You look fine. It doesn’t matter. I should have told you. It’s something we do around here. There’s no reason to change.”

  Superheroes who dressed up for dinner? Odd. I wouldn’t think they would have time to do something so fancy, what with all the crime in Bigtime. I wondered what other strange superhero behavior I was going to witness tonight.

  “Are you ready?” Sam asked.

  Ready to face the friends of a superhero I’d driven to commit suicide? Sure, no problem. I did that every day and twice on Sundays.

  Or not.

  A ball of nerves knotted up in my stomach, and I let out a long breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Don’t worry. Nobody blames you for Travis’s death,” he said in a gentle voice. “Everything will be fine.”

  I didn’t believe him for an instant. They all blamed me, and I knew it.

  I could feel it in my very soul.

  *

  Sam led me down various hallways and flights of stairs until we reached the dining room. I stepped over the threshold and stopped. A chandelier the size of a compact car hung over the table and bathed the room in a pure, white light. A table filled with delicate china, antique crystal, and lit candles crouched below. Impressionist paintings in silver frames adorned the walls, while gleaming suits of armors stood guard beside them. I felt small, insignificant, and shabby in the enormous room, which could easily hold a couple hundred people. The others clustered around one end of the long, square table. They rose, and I realized they were just as dressed up as Sam was. Henry and the chief wore dark tuxedos, while Fiona sported a bright blue gown.

  “Carmen, good to see you,” Chief Sean Newman rumbled.

  “Hi, Carmen.” Henry gave me a shy wave.

  Fiona remained silent. Anger and loathing for me radiated from her with the heat of a thousand suns. Beads of sweat popped out on my face. If Fiona got any hotter, my hair would light up like a Christmas tree.

  “Chief, Henry, Fiona.”

  I stared at the unmasked superheroes. They stared back. The knot in my stomach ballooned to the size of a basketball. Tension blanketed the air like a heavy fog.

  “I think we all know each other,” Sam said. “Why don’t we sit down and have dinner?”

  He walked to the table and pulled out a chair next to Henry. My knees shook, as I sank into it. Fiona and Chief Newman faced me across the table, and Sam took his place at the head. Silver trays of cheeses, fruits, and vegetables filled the table, along with tureens of steaming soup, bowls of salads, and a turkey large enough to feed a third-world country. A luscious-looking chocolate cheesecake perched at the far end.

  “Dig in, dig in, don’t be shy,” Sam said. “There’s plenty to go around.”

  The others picked up their silverware and passed around the various platters and bowls. Once everyone had been served, we dug in. Silverware and cutlery clinked together, creating a pleasant-sounding symphony to accompany the meal.

  I picked at my food. I had no appetite for the fantastic spread, even though I hadn’t eaten in several days. The ball in my stomach spread into my throat. I could barely breathe.

  Fiona had no such problem. The fashion designer took three portions of everything and wolfed them down in record time. She was on her fourth helping of mashed potatoes and gravy before the others finished their first. It was fascinating, in a gluttonous sort of way. The gusto and speed with which the other woman ate transfixed me. Watching food disappear from Fiona’s plate would make for excellent time-lapse photography.

  “What are you staring at?” Fiona snapped.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just…how can you eat so much and stay so thin? What’s your secret?”

  “I have a high metabolism. I can eat whatever I want and never gain an ounce. I burn all the calories away. Literally.” Her blue eyes flicked over me. “Unlike some people.”

  I sucked in my less-than-flat stomach. I wasn’t fat, but I didn’t have a supermodel’s perfect, stick-thin figure. I never would without liposuction and some sort of serious eating disorder. Still, I put my fork down.

  Once everyone had finished, Chief Newman picked up the chocolate cheesecake. “Would you like some, Carmen?”

  I started to say no when a smirk flitted across Fiona’s face.

  “Yes, please. I’d love a piece.”

  Chief Newman passed me the dessert. I helped myself to a piece of cheesecake and took a big bite. The chocolate melted in my mouth, and I polished off the rest of it. Fiona Fine and her perfect figure be damned. Life was too short to count calories. Especially when I had a malevolent ubervillain to worry about.

  The others dawdled over their cheesecake, and my curiosity crept up over my nervousness. The reporter in me yearned to ask questions. Just like always.

  “So, do you all live here at Sublime?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Sam replied. “We all have separate apartments and homes. However, everybody does have their own suite of rooms downstairs that they can crash in whenever we come back from a mission.”

  “Downstairs? I thought we were on the bottom floor.”

  Sam made a gesture with his hand. “You know, downstairs.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have a question for you, Carmen. How did you figure out our identities?” Henry asked, his glasses gleaming in the dim light. “We’re all dying to know.”

  “Well, like I told Sam, he made a mistake. He talked to me at the benefit, and I wondered why. Sam Sloane would never talk to me. Then, Fiona came in and dragged him away from me because Chief Newman wanted to see him. I just had a feeling about the four of you. I saw you standing together, and everything just fit. Sam talking to me, the chief wanting to see him, Fiona pulling him away. Later that night, I went back home and started digging into your backgrounds. I found some more information that confirmed my hunch.”

  Fiona let out a snort. “You had a feeling? What are you, psychic now?”

  “No,” I said in a defensive tone. “I’m not psychic. I just get these feelings sometimes, little flashes in my head. I just know things. It’s a gut instinct, I guess, an inner voice that whispers to me.”

  “Interesting,” Chief Newman murmured. His blue eyes darkened. “Very interesting.”

  “And what about me?” Henry asked. “How did you figure me out? Nobody knows what Hermit looks like or what powers he has.”

  I smiled. “You made a mistake too, with the list I asked you to compile of the fifty richest men and women in Bigtime. The Henry Harris I know would never leave two names off a list like that, and it certainly wouldn’t be because there was a flaw in his computer program. When I realized the two names you had left off were Sam and Fiona, I knew you were Hermit.”

  Henry looked at Fiona. “I told you she’d figure that out.”

  Fiona sniffed. “Yes, well, I suppose anyone can count.”

  I glared at the other woman.

  Sam cleared his throat before things got any more heated. “We all know why we’re here. The question is, what do we do now?”

  “Actually, before we talk about that, I have something I want to say to all of you. Something I’ve wanted to say for a long time.” I took a deep breath. This was the reason my stomach had been overtaken by a basketball. Still, it was something I had to do, something I needed to do, no matter how difficult it was. I swallowed. The ball blew up to gigantic proportions.

  “I just wanted you all to know how sorry I am about Tornado, er, Travis’s death. If I’d known how my
article would have affected him, I never would have written it. Never. I hope you can accept my apology and my sympathy. I truly am very, very sorry for your loss.”

  Sam’s eyes glittered. Henry stared at his fork. Mr. Sage interlaced his fingers.

  Fiona stood. Her blue eyes burned into me, and my own temperature rose in response. Sweat gathered and trickled down the small of my back. Fiona threw her napkin down. Sparks flew from her fingertips and smoked on the white tablecloth. She stalked away, her shoes leaving black scorch marks on the floor. She wrenched open the door, walked through, and slammed it shut.

  The door had other ideas. Set in motion by Fiona’s incredible strength, it kept going. The door exploded through the wall and zipped through the air. It skidded to a halt two rooms over.

  Fiona never looked back.

  Well, that certainly had not gone well. I was lucky Fiona hadn’t reduced me to a pile of ash on the spot. Or squeezed me until I popped like a piece of bubble wrap. I turned a wary eye to the others, wondering what other superhero powers I was about to witness.

  “You’ll have to forgive my daughter,” Chief Newman said. “Travis was special to her. His death has hit her very hard.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Your daughter?” My research had never revealed any family connections between any members of the Fearless Five. How could I have missed that? More importantly, how could such a kind, calm man like the chief have such a hot-tempered, obnoxious daughter like Fiona?

  “Yes, Fiona’s my daughter. It’s something we keep to ourselves for our safety. She has her mother’s temper.”

  Chief Newman reading my mind and answering my silent questions unnerved me. Had he sensed my nervousness and fear the whole evening? Was he peering into my thoughts even now? Did he know about Sam and me—

  I immediately cut that thought off.

  A ghost of a smile drifted across the chief’s face. “Yes, I did sense your nervousness, and yes, I am reading your mind, Carmen.”

  “Stop that!”

  Henry gave me a small grin. “Unfortunately, having your mind read comes with the territory around here.”

  I eyed one of the empty soup tureens. I wondered if putting it on my head would block my thoughts from Chief Newman. Or maybe I could make myself a hat out of aluminum foil. That was good for keeping the aliens away. At least, that’s what all the crazy homeless people at Paradise Park claimed.

  Chief Newman chuckled. “I imagine that would look rather funny, Carmen.”

  I gave him a sour look. He chuckled again.

  “Even though Fiona has decided to leave, we still need to discuss our next move,” Sam reminded us.

  The mood darkened.

  “First things first.” Sam turned to me. “You’ve got to stay here at Sublime where you’ll be safe.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until we figure out a way to stop Malefica for good.”

  “How long might that be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I can’t stay here forever. What about my job? My apartment? My overdue library books? I have a life, you know.” I clapped a hand to my head and groaned. “I bet they’ve already fired me. I haven’t been to work in almost a week.”

  “Actually, I took care of that,” Chief Newman said. “You’ve been given a brief sabbatical from the newspaper, and your rent’s been paid up through the end of the year.”

  “How did you manage that? I’ve already used up all my vacation days for the entire year.” I’d blown through them after Travis Teague’s suicide. There was something about driving a man to take his own life that made you want to never be seen again.

  The chief laced his fingers together. “I merely called up some of the editors and told them what a valuable employee you were, what a hard worker. They were more than happy to give you the time off.”

  “What he means is that he hypnotized them into doing what he wanted,” Henry added. “It’s one of his more useful powers.”

  “You hypnotized my bosses?”

  “I prefer the term suggestive encouragement.” The chief’s blue eyes twinkled.

  “Oh. That doesn’t matter. I still can’t stay here.” Panic strained my voice. “I just can’t.”

  I didn’t belong here among all the glitz and glamour, and I didn’t belong within twenty feet of any superheroes. I certainly didn’t need to be in such close proximity to Sam Sloane for any length of time. Given my intense attraction to him, eventually I’d do something stupid, like lock him in my room and beg him to make love to me again. My heart had already been broken once. I couldn’t risk it a second time, especially not with my bad karma regarding men and superheroes. And everything else, for that matter.

  “You can stay here, and you will,” Sam snapped.

  His authoritative tone grated on my nerves. If there was one thing I hated, it was when other people tried to tell me what to do. No matter how sexy the person might be. “It’s my life, and I want to get back to it as soon as I can. I’ll do what I want to.”

  “And if you want to keep it, you’ll stay right here where it’s safe, where we can protect you.”

  My blue eyes narrowed. Sam glared at me, his silver eyes shimmering with emotion.

  “Why don’t we just take it one day at a time and see what develops?” Chief Newman suggested. “There’s no need to make a hasty decision now we might regret later.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table. Besides my unwanted, relentless attraction to Sam, my other major problem was Malefica. If I left the safety of Sublime and went back to Bigtime, she’d track me down faster than a Southern bloodhound treeing raccoons. I’d felt Malefica’s rage, her absolute hatred of me, at the park. I had dared to stand up to the ubervillain, and Malefica hadn’t liked it. Not one little bit.

  I shuddered to think what would happen if she got her inch-long nails into me. How could I deal with this threat? Despite my reprieve from work, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life hiding from the Terrible Triad. There had to be a way out of this mess. I turned the problem round and round in my mind.

  Besides her superpowers, Malefica’s only real advantage was her anonymity. That, however, was something I could change. And it would drastically level the playing field.

  “Did you guys bring all my stuff from my apartment?”

  “Yes. We shoved everything into those cardboard boxes in your suite,” Sam replied.

  “All of it? Even the papers I had on the coffee table? And the flash drives plugged into my computer?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “Because if my notes are here, I can get back to work.”

  “On what?”

  “Uncovering Malefica’s real identity.”

  The three superheroes exchanged worried glances. I stood and paced back and forth beside the table.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to expose you or dig up your deepest, darkest secrets, but we need to uncover Malefica’s identity. If I do that, I can serve her up to you, just the way she wanted to give me to Frost. You guys can ambush her, and she’ll never know what hit her. Once she’s safely locked away for the remainder of her natural life, I can get back to mine, and you guys can go back to saving Bigtime on a weekly basis. Everyone wins. It’s the same game plan I had in the beginning, the same one I told Striker about. Except now, I have all your identities. That should make Malefica much easier to unmask.”

  “Do you think you can really do that?” Henry said. “Uncover her identity? I’ve been trying for years.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve done it before. It’s really not difficult. You superheroes and ubervillains aren’t nearly as clever as you think you are.”

  The three men stared at me.

  “Well, you’re not,” I said in a defensive tone. “Anyone with half a brain and a little bit of time can figure out who most of you are. C’mon. What sort of lame-ass disguise is a pair of glasses and skintight spandex anyway?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I started Operat
ion Unmask the next morning. By nine o’clock, I’d dressed, put on my usual war paint, and was ready to face the day and my superhero hosts. I opened the door to my room and stuck my head outside. An empty hallway greeted me.

  “Hello? Is anyone out here? Hello?”

  Silence echoed back.

  I pushed the intercom button. It squawked.

  “Um, Sam? Are you there?”

  No one answered. So much for my call being routed through the manor. Perhaps I was the only one up. Maybe superheroes slept late because they fought crime into the wee hours of the morning. Matt had certainly never been able to get up early. Matt. For once, it didn’t hurt to think about him. No needles of pain pierced my heart. Maybe I was finally getting over his betrayal. Or maybe I just had bigger things to worry about at the moment, like keeping my head attached to my body and free of frostbite.

  I pushed the intercom button three more times, but no one responded. I’d just have to navigate the twisting hallways alone. I saw no one, and nothing moved or stirred. The gigantic house soaked up sound, hushing the plop of my sneakers on the thick carpet and the rustle of my jeans. The only other people I spotted were the figures in the various paintings that lined the walls, along with the marble statues and suits of armor. Their empty eyes followed me wherever I went. Creepy.

  Finally, I stumbled across the kitchen. It, too, was deserted. I settled myself on a stool next to a long, skinny island in the middle of the open space. Surely, the others would come down—or up—for breakfast, given the fancy dinner they’d had last night. Meals seemed to be a group affair around here.

  But ten minutes later, I remained alone. I hadn’t heard a whisper of movement. My stomach rumbled, reminding me how long it had been since I’d had a substantial meal. I chewed my lip and stared at the stainless steel refrigerator. Sam had told me not to be shy. Of course, I wasn’t shy by nature, not by a long shot, but it didn’t hurt to have permission from the man of the manor.

  I scooted off my stool and opened the refrigerator. Cheeses, meats, vegetables, fruits, breads, juices, milk, and more. It was better than a grocery store. My mouth watered. I helped myself to some fresh fruit, orange juice, bagels, and cream cheese. I rustled through the various drawers and cabinets until I found dishes and silverware, carried my plates to the island, and chowed down. Ah, the breakfast of superheroes. Or nosy reporters.