Part 20 (1/2)

Fiona's hair hissed and sizzled. I scooted away from the sudden flare-up. Maybe I should cut down on the b.i.t.c.hy remarks. Making Fiona, er, Fiera mad could be hazardous to my health.

Fiona raged on for another ten minutes about Joanne James and her cheapskate tendencies. I made mental notes. The hot-tempered fas.h.i.+on designer had quite a way with words. She spat out several four-letters ones I'd never heard before.

While Sam tried to calm Fiona down, I gathered up the rest of the dirty dishes, dumped them in one of the stainless steel sinks, and rinsed them off. A chill swept over me, and my vision blurred. The room spun around, and I put my hands on the countertop to keep myself from falling.

”Are you okay?” Sam asked, putting a hand on my back. The warmth drove away the cold and ignited a fire of a different sort deep inside me. What was it about him that affected me so?

I shook my head. The world returned to normal, but I felt tired. My head throbbed. ”I'm fine. It's just been a long day. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. Good night.”

I left the kitchen, trying hard not to collapse. I didn't want to get dragged back down to the sick bay.

Sam started to follow me, but Fiona called out to him. Sam hesitated.

”I'll be fine.” I waved him away. I needed some time to myself right now. Time to think.

”Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

Our eyes locked. I s.h.i.+vered at the heat in his gaze. I needed something, all right. Him. That was the problem.

Sam headed back into the kitchen. I crept through the manor with one hand on the wall. After about five agonizing minutes, I reached my room, shut the door, and collapsed on the bed.

I stared up at the ceiling, and my thoughts turned to Sam. I closed my eyes, remembering every detail of the evening. His quick wit, his smile, his laugh, his voice. The way he kissed me. The way he touched me. The way he melted my defenses. If Fiona hadn't walked in, we would have made love in the kitchen.

d.a.m.n.

I sighed. It was for the best, though. I didn't need to get any more involved with Sam Sloane. We could never have a future together. There was too much bad karma between us.

My inner voice chided me. I was already in too deep. I'd learned so much about the billionaire-turned-superhero tonight, and I wanted to know even more. What his hopes and dreams were, how and why he'd become a superhero, whether he thought about me as much as I did about him.

KarmaGirl.

Sam.

His brilliant silver eyes were the last thing I thought of before my strange symptoms overcame me.

KarmaGirl.

18.

For the next two days, I worked feverishly on Malefica's ident.i.ty, stopping only to eat and collapse into bed at night. There were no more intimate moments with Sam. No more long talks. No more make-out sessions in the kitchen. I kept my distance from him, and he did the same. I didn't know whether to be hurt or relieved the superhero didn't press the issue. It was for the best, but I still wanted him desperately. Dreamed about him even.

After dinner, the others put on their superhero suits and went out to apprehend the criminals that prowled the streets of Bigtime. There were no run-ins with the Triad, but it was only a matter of time.

Malefica, Frost, and Scorpion were out there somewhere, plotting their next move. They were up to something. My inner voice constantly grumbled about it. I just didn't know what it could possibly be.

While the Fearless Five made the streets safe, I was left alone to pace through the halls of Sublime. I never went with the Fearless Five on any of their forays into the real world. They kept that part of themselves separate from me, and I respected their privacy.

But that didn't keep me from watching them on TV. Every night I went down to the underground library and tuned the monitors to SNN, the Superhero News Network. The round-the-clock TV station was dedicated to, you guessed it, all things superhero. From in-depth profiles to the latest action-figure and video-game releases, the station covered everything that had anything to do with superheroes. But the station got its biggest ratings from its live coverage. At least once a day, the anchor went out to some reporter on the scene of an ongoing superhero-ubervillain battle. Or one of the reporters interviewed Swifte or some other hero about his latest, greatest rescue of a grandma wandering out into traffic or a kitten from a towering tree. Sometimes, they even read the latest diatribes and demands from ubervillains like Mad Maria or Noxious or Captain Sus.h.i.+.

I sat down, put my feet up on my table, and flipped on SNN. When I'd first come to Bigtime, I hadn't watched SNN. I hadn't wanted the station's stories to influence my own reporting or color my investigations into the Fearless Five. I hadn't wanted to hear something on SNN and spend weeks investigating it only to discover that some newbie had gotten her facts wrong.

But now, I watched the channel every night. It was the only way I could keep track of the Fearless Five on their missions. The only way I had of knowing whether or not Sam was coming back safe and sound.

That had suddenly become very important to me.

I sat through a program about how the Invisible Ingenues were, well, invisible to men and had a hard time finding dates. Suddenly, the anchor touched his earpiece. His words grew sharp and clipped.

”We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to take you out live to the streets of Bigtime.” The anchor turned to two chairs that looked empty. ”Sorry, girls.”

”Don't worry. We're used to it.” A soft, feminine voice floated through the monitor.

”We now take you to our woman on the street, Kelly Caleb. Kelly, what's the situation?”

The camera cut to a young, thin, pretty blond woman with a wide smile and unnaturally white teeth.

”Well, James, it seems that Bigtime's favorite superheroes, the Fearless Five, have cornered a gang of armed robbers in an alley across the street. The superheroes picked up the robbers' trail after they tripped the silent alarm at Jewel's Jewel Emporium in downtown Bigtime. Let's see how the Five are faring.”

The camera zoomed over to the alley, and I perched on the edge of my seat. I had an urge for popcorn.

A body flew out of the dark hole and landed with an audible crack on the sidewalk. The robber, who was KarmaGirl.

wearing black clothes and a tattered ski mask, let out a low groan. Five more bodies followed in quick succession.

Striker strode out of the shadows, followed by Fiera and Mr. Sage. My mouth went dry. Good grief, the man knew how to wear leather well. Especially on TV. I wasn't the only one who thought so. The camera panned across the street, where a large group of twenty- and thirty-something women stood behind a police barricade.

”Striker! Striker! He's our man! If he can't spank us, no one can!” the women cheered in unison.

They shook their booties and waved and clapped. A couple of them even sported cheerleader uniforms and sparkling silver pom-poms. Tramps.

Kelly Caleb trotted over to the superheroes as fast as her stilettos would let her. She ignored Fiera and Mr. Sage and stuck her microphone in Striker's face.

”Striker, Kelly Caleb with SNN. What's the situation?”

Striker seemed baffled by her obvious question. He gestured at the moaning, groaning robbers. A couple of cops came over and started slapping handcuffs on them. ”The robbers have been apprehended, as you can see. The police are taking them into custody.”

Kelly opened her mouth to ask him something else, when a woman shoved past her.

”Striker! I love you! Be mine!”

The woman, one of the pom-pom carriers, wrapped something that looked like a bra around Striker's neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him on the mouth.

I gasped. The brazen hussy!

The kiss went on . . . and on . . . and on . . . I threw my Rubik's Cube at one of the monitors. It bounced off and dropped to the floor.

”Get your hands off him, you s.l.u.t!” I shouted.