Joanne’s face hardened. “Like they saved Berkley?”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
“Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to save myself,” Joanne snapped. “Now give me your bracelet again.”
I did as she asked. Joanne slipped another charm—the high-heel shoe—off the bracelet and stuffed it into the lock. I said the magic words, and we scurried back down the hallway to our cell.
Pop! Pop!
The explosion made a bit more noise than before, but not enough to draw immediate attention, because neither Prism nor Hangman came to investigate. We crept back up to the door. A bit of smoke wafted away from the obliterated lock. It reminded me of smoldering roses, the same scent Debonair trailed behind him wherever he went. My heart twisted.
We went into the workroom, but the ubervillains weren’t down here anymore. I led Joanne through the halls, retracing the path the ubervillains had made. Our feet sank into the carpet. The only sounds were our labored breathing and that faint, ominous hum. We passed what looked like a living room, and Joanne motioned for me to stop. She slid inside and picked up a fireplace poker and then a phone on top of one of the tables. My heart lifted. If she could call for help, this whole mess would be over.
Joanne made a disgusted face and slammed down the phone. “No dial tone.”
So, we crept on, past room after room. We went up stairs and down stairs, but we couldn’t find another way off the boat—other than going back up to the main deck.
After a whispered discussion, we decided to make a break for it. We reached the door that led out to the deck. Joanne eased it open, and we stuck our heads outside. I didn’t see Prism anywhere, but Hangman stood next to the laser, making notations on a large clipboard. He’d already stuck the sapphire into the machine just in front of the barrel, and it bathed the whole deck in a harsh, blue glow. The machine also hummed, a low, steady drone that made it hard to think.
I scanned the deck, looking for a way off. My eyes landed on a couple of small dinghies lashed to one side. Too bad Hangman stood between us and them. There was no way we could sneak past the ubervillain without him seeing and stopping us—
The smell of roses filled the air.
POP!
Debonair teleported in front of Hangman. The ubervillain’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“What the hell are you doing—”
That was all he got out before Debonair punched him in the face. The blow was enough to rock Hangman back on his feet but not enough to knock him down or unconscious. It was, however, enough to make Debonair wince. He looked even worse than he had at the museum. Blood covered his face and costume, and his left arm hung at his side in a weird, twisted angle. Pain whitened his face underneath his mask, and fever and exhaustion brightened his eyes. I grimaced at the sight of the sexy thief, sickened and angry by what the ubervillains had done to the man I loved.
Hangman shook off the blow and leapt at Debonair, and the two started teleporting and flying around the deck like madmen.
POP!
SMACK!
POP! POP!
SMACK!
It was like standing in the middle of a sound-effects machine.
“Where are they?” Debonair demanded, teleporting all around the boat, always just out of Hangman’s long grasp. “Where’s Bella? What have you done to her?”
In between teleports, Debonair would lash out with his one good arm and punch the ubervillain in the face or kick him with his boots. The sight warmed my heart, but it also filled me with nauseating dread. I hated seeing Debonair in danger, especially because of me.
My power pulsed, adding to my sense of unease. I realized something was missing, or rather, someone. Where was Prism?
I got my answer a second later. The ubervillain stepped out from behind the device. She smiled, drew the laserama from her belt, and pointed it at Debonair’s back. There was no time to get to her. No time to distract her or call out a warning. No time to do anything at all. Debonair was going to die just like Berkley Brighton had. Just like my father, James, had.
But somehow, I did something. I reached for my power, imagining Debonair’s feet sliding out from under him, willing it to happen, wishing for it like I’d never wished for anything before in my life.
And they did.
He took a step, and his boots skidded along the deck. Before I could warn him, Prism pushed the button on her laserama. Debonair hit the floor just as the red beam zapped through the air above his bloody chest. The laser hit one of the dinghies on the opposite side of the yacht. The wood burst into flames.
But, as my bad luck would have it, Debonair smacked his head against the deck when he fell. He let out a low groan and tried to get to his feet, but Hangman was too quick for him. The ubervillain put his enormous foot on Debonair’s chest, pinning him.
“Where did he come from?” Prism hissed. “How did he track us here?”
Hangman shrugged. “He must have been teleporting around the city looking for us. It’s been known to happen.”
Prism raised the laserama and aimed it at Debonair’s chest again. “Well, this is the last time it’s going to happen. Ever.” Her finger hovered over the button.
“Debonair!” I screamed.
Hangman and Prism’s heads whipped around to Joanne and me, still crouching inside the doorway. Joanne grabbed my arm, but I shook her off. This was exactly how my father had died—trying to fight off two ubervillains. I didn’t know what I would do if Debonair met his fate. My heart couldn’t take it—not again. I was going to save him—no matter what.
“Leave him alone!”
I walked to the center of the deck, where the ubervillains hovered over Debonair’s crumpled from. I tried not to look at him—or at the blood pooling underneath his body. But my eyes went to his, and he had the audacity to wink at me. Wink! Even though he was facing his own death. His sly sense of humor was just one of the many things I loved about him. One of the many, many things. Which was going to make leaving him that much harder. If we somehow lived through this.
Prism’s reddish eyes narrowed. “Well, well, you’re more resourceful than I gave you credit for, Bulluci. How did you get out of your cell? Not that it really matters, but it’s good that you’re here now to see your champion die.”
“I got out of my cell with this.” I yanked the bracelet off my wrist and held it in my fist. “You put your laser down and step away from him right now, or I’ll blow us all sky-high.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Prism’s eyes fixed on the bracelet. “You’re bluffing. That’s just a bracelet, not anything else.”
I held it up high. “It is a bracelet. And much more. This happens to have been made by my good friend, Jasper. You remember Jasper, don’t you, Hangman? You almost beat him to death when you broke into his house.”
Prism’s eyes slid to the other ubervillain, who nodded his head in confirmation. Her eyes glowed red with anger, but she plastered a fake smile on her face and turned back to me.
“Now, Bella, there’s no need to be hasty,” Prism said, trying to make her voice light and pleasant. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
My hand tightened around the cold metal. “The only arrangement we’re going to come to is the one where you put your laser away and let us off this boat—right now.”
Prism scoffed. “You’re bluffing. You’re not going to set off that thing. You don’t have the balls to do it.”
I didn’t know what to do. She was right. I didn’t want to blow up myself. I didn’t want to die. Not now. Not like this. Then, my eyes went back to the laser, and I thought of all the destruction Prism had wreaked—and would wreak—if somebody didn’t stop her. Of all the lives she would and could destroy.
And I realized that I would die—to stop her. In that instant, I realized what my grandfather had been talking about. Why he and my father and brother really dressed up as Johnny Angel. It wasn’t about getting a kick
out of wearing a mask or riding around town raising hell. It was about being strong enough to take on ubervillains. Being strong enough to look out for the weak. Being strong enough to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.
That realization, earth-shattering as it was, wasn’t enough to get me out of my present predicament, though.
“Give it up, Bella. Give me the bracelet.” Prism pointed her laserama at me. “Or I’ll just take it off your dead, burned body.”
Debonair let out a growl and started to rise, but Hangman slammed his foot into the superhero’s chest. Something snapped, and Debonair collapsed against the deck with a low, pained groan. Blood bubbled out of his mouth. The sight, the sound, of his agony sliced my heart like a paper shredder.
I didn’t get a chance to answer, because Joanne chose that moment to pounce. She’d crept around behind the laser during my confrontation with Prism.
“Don’t worry, Bella. I’ll take care of it,” Joanne said, climbing onto the side of the laserama.
“What—what are you doing? No!” Prism screamed.
But it was too late. Joanne reached into the machine and ripped the Star Sapphire from its position. But she didn’t stop there. With her other hand, she swung the fireplace poker at the laser, bashing a whole section of wires and doodads and gadgets. Bits of metal spewed everywhere, tinkling against the floor like someone was playing a piano. Joanne was stronger than she looked.
“This is for killing Berkley, you bitch!” Joanne screamed.
She kept hitting the laserama with the poker like her life depended on it. More pieces of metal broke free, smoke spewed out, and flames started to flicker inside the device. Joanne gave it one more good whack, then climbed down. An explosion ripped through the laser, and the flames and smoke grew brighter and thicker.
Prism cursed and raced over to her precious device, followed by Hangman. Joanne dashed around the other side to me. Another explosion rocked the boat as part of the machine collapsed in on itself. Blue and red sparks shot everywhere. Part of the deck began to burn, and smoke boiled out from the laser.
I dropped to my knees beside Debonair and stroked back his bloody, matted hair. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. My pulse pounded in response, even now in this time of crisis. I opened my mouth to ask him how hurt he was when something blue zoomed down from the sky and wrapped itself around my head.
Frantic, I clawed at the thing for about ten seconds before I realized that it was a blanket. I unwound the soft fabric from around my face and looked at it. My mouth fell open. Unless I was mistaken, it was Debonair’s stadium blanket—the same one I’d tossed off the Skyline Bridge a few days ago. A strange occurrence, even for me, but I covered Debonair with it.
“We’ve got to get off the boat,” I said. “Can you teleport us away?”
Debonair shook his head. “No, I’m too weak. I wouldn’t be able to get us to shore. But we can take one of the dinghies. I can row with one arm, well enough, anyway. Help me up.”
Joanne put her arm under Debonair’s shoulder while I did the same on the other side. We dragged the superhero over to the side of the deck to the remaining dinghy. Meanwhile, the ubervillains continued to mess with the imploding machine. I hoped it blew up in their faces—literally. I started forward to hoist the dinghy over the side and into the water. At least, I tried to. The wench that lifted the boat up and over the side of the yacht was stuck, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it to move. I turned to ask Joanne for help, but she had other ideas. She picked up her poker and started back toward the ubervillains.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Joanne jerked her head toward them. “Back to finish what I started. To kill Prism, just the way she killed Berkley.”
“That’s suicide. She’s an ubervillain. They both are. And Prism still has her laserama.”
Raw, naked pain filled Joanne’s eyes. “I don’t care. I just want her dead.”
I grabbed her arm. “Berkley wouldn’t want you to die, Joanne. He wouldn’t want that for you. He saved you. He threw himself in front of that laser so you could live.”
For a moment, I thought Joanne was going to shake me off and charge back toward the smoking laser. But some of the rage faded from her purple eyes, and she nodded.
“All right. What now?” she asked.
I shielded my eyes against the harsh glare of the rising sun. Sometime during the middle of all this, night had given way to dawn.
“We wait for the cavalry to arrive and hope the ubervillains leave us alone until then. Somebody had to hear those explosions and call the police. Surely, there’s somebody else out here besides us.”
I was right. A few boats floated in the water around the yacht, and people were already gathering on the other decks. Although they didn’t look much bigger than ants, I could see them pointing and talking and gesturing. I waved my hands and jumped up and down, hoping someone would spot me.
“Help us!” I screamed, even though no one could hear me. “Please help us!”
Then, the most wonderful thing of all happened. A helicopter appeared on the horizon. A big, black, beautiful helicopter bearing the F5 insignia. It drew closer, and I realized just how big it was. This wasn’t your one-or two-seat chopper. Oh no. The thing was huge. An entire fleet of superheroes could sit inside. In fact, it looked like something the Coast Guard would use to rescue people stranded in bad weather out on the bay.
“A helicopter,” I said, shaking my head. “They even have a helicopter.”
But now was not the time to chastise Sam Striker Sloane about his expensive equipment, especially not when one of them was going to save my sorry ass. I waved my hands, urging the Fearless Five to land the chopper on the deck so we could climb aboard and soar away to safety.
I spotted Hermit at the controls, with Mr. Sage in the copilot’s seat. Striker stood in the open door, ready to hustle us inside. The chopper drew nearer to the yacht, whipping my tangled hair around my face. Suddenly, Hermit pushed the stick back, and the chopper snapped up, up, up into the blue sky.
“Where are you going? Come back! Come back!” I screamed, although the wind tore away my words before anyone could hear them.
A moment later, a grenade exploded where the helicopter had been. Hangman and Prism had noticed the chopper too—and were coming right at the three of us.
Joanne didn’t hesitate. She ran at Prism and plowed into the other woman like she was a linebacker for a football team. The two women went down on the deck.
Hangman’s eyes lit on Debonair’s still form, and he marched toward the fallen superhero.
“Go, Bella! Run! Save yourself!” Debonair said, as he got to his trembling feet.
I looked around for something I could use to fend off Hangman. Debonair was in no shape to stand, much less have another knock-down, drag-out fight with the ubervillain. Hangman would kill him.
But there was nothing on the deck. Not even so much as a loose metal pipe I could crack the ubervillain across the head with.
So, I stepped in front of Debonair. Hangman snickered. He looked amused to see me defending the superhero. I suppose he had a right to laugh. After all, he had at least a foot and a half and a hundred pounds on me.
“Get out of the way, little girl. Or I’ll throw you overboard,” he snarled. “After I break every bone in your body.”
“You’re not going to hurt him anymore,” I said, gritting my teeth.
“We’ll see about that.”
Hangman reached for me. And I did something I’d never done before—I gave in to my power.
Fully, completely, absolutely.
I let the static electricity build and build and build around me. Then, I reached for it. A strange sensation, an odd force, enveloped me, almost like there was an enormous hand wrapped around me, guiding my every movement.
Hangman came at me, but I ducked out of his grasp and kicked him in the ankles. The motion surprised the ubervillain, and he stumbl
ed forward, hitting his knees on the dinghy.
“You’re going to pay for that, bitch,” he snarled.
“Then come and make me, you bastard!”
So, he did. Or tried to. Hangman stalked me around the deck, trying to wrap his massive hands around my throat, as well as punch and kick me into next week. But somehow, just before his hand connected with my face, he’d slip and fall. Or I’d jerk out of the way at the last possible second. We did a strange dance around the deck, bobbing and weaving at each other. I felt in total control of my body and completely not at the same time. But I went with the weirdness. It was the only thing keeping me alive. Somehow, my jinx had turned into a run of unbelievably good luck.
Hangman tried to punch me but slipped and fell to his knees again. A flash of movement caught my eye, and I turned.
“Now, it’s your turn to die, bitch!” Prism screamed above the roar of the hovering helicopter.
She stood over Joanne, the laserama pointed at the other woman’s chest. They were too far away, and there was nothing I could do.
Prism pushed the button. A red beam shot out—
And nothing happened.
Prism pushed it again.
Nothing happened.
Joanne didn’t crumple into a heap. A smoking hole didn’t suddenly appear in her chest. Her eyes didn’t flash red with fire as her internal organs cooked inside her body.
Instead, Joanne smiled. A big, wide, wolfish smile that showed off every one of her white teeth. Prism looked at her laser, then at the other woman. Confusion entered her reddish eyes. The laserama must have missed, because Joanne sprang to her feet and started clawing at Prism again.
But I had my own problems to worry about. My power threw me to one side. Hangman’s fist punched the air where I’d been a second ago. He came at me again. And again, my power pulled me out of the path of his enormous, beefy fist.
“Stand still!” he snarled, white spit flying from his thick lips.
Karma Girl Page 88