Part 28 (2/2)

Lulu's fingers snapped against the keyboard. ”I can get what you need and be there in an hour.”

I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten now. ”Fine. See you there.”

”Be there or be square, Sister Carmen.”

I hung up the phone and went over to the round table in the center of the library. I stared at the five empty chairs and the F5 insignia. I brushed my fingers over the carved wood. I would save the Fearless Five. I would.

Or die trying.

I put aside my raging emotions and ransacked the library, searching for anything that might help me in my upcoming battle. I found nothing I could use, unless I wanted to brain Scorpion with a very thick encyclopedia. I didn't think that would slow down the ubervillain for a second, although a book without pictures might confuse him.

Next, I jogged down the hall to the equipment room. I jabbed in the code, and the door slid open. I walked toward the colorful leather costumes hanging behind the gla.s.s door and reached for the handle.

My hand dropped to my side. No. I wasn't a superhero. I wasn't going to play dress-up and pretend to be one at this stage of the game. I was Carmen Cole, the woman who lived in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt.

The woman who was probably going to die in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt.

No use thinking about that right now. When Malefica got her hands on me or Frost dumped me in a vat of radioactive goo. That would be a good time to have a proper panic.

I turned and surveyed the rest of the room. Striker's gleaming silver swords caught my eye. I went over and picked one up. I twirled the sword in my hand. It weighed less than a feather. A weapon I didn't know how to use was better than no weapon at all. I grabbed another sword off the rack. And two weapons were definitely better than one. I found a scabbard for the swords and strapped them to my back. I spent a few minutes practicing pulling the swords out and putting them back in the leather slots.

Once I'd familiarized myself with the swords, I tore through the rest of the room. I found nothing else remotely helpful. No guns, no knives, no quarterstaffs, no throwing stars. Nothing. You'd think Sam would have invested a little more money in weapons given how much he spent on the rest of the group's equipment. But that was a superhero for you. Always confident his power would be enough to see him through any battle. That was the problem with having superpowers-you came to rely on them too much. When they went away, as they so often did, you were left defenseless, helpless. It had happened KarmaGirl.

to the Colorful Crusader and countless others.

Still, reliable or not, I would have given anything to have a superpower right now.

My next stop was the sick bay. Again, I found nothing helpful. The room was filled with odd machines and other devices much too complicated for me to understand, let alone find any use for. Odd drugs with bizarre, never-ending names and too many vowels sat inside most of the cabinets and drawers. I had a rule about medicine-I never took anything I couldn't p.r.o.nounce.

A box on one of the counters caught my eye. More RID pills. Evidently, it was Mr. Sage's drug of choice. I turned the box over and read the label. Caution: Take one pill per day as needed to absorb and diminish radioactive isotopes. More than one pill per day may result in serious side effects, such as nausea, dizziness, headaches, and fatigue. Extreme overdoses could result in death. Consult your doctor for more information.

Big metal vats of radioactive goo flashed through my mind. My inner voice whispered. I had a funny feeling I'd be taking a cold, cold bath before the night was over. What the h.e.l.l? I wasn't likely to live through this little adventure anyway. Maybe they'd help my headache.

I downed ten of the pills.

Once I was done scouring the underground lair for weapons, I took the elevator upstairs and paced through the silent halls. My sneakers squeaked on the slick marble floors. The eyes of the statues and paintings followed my every step.

The manor seemed so empty without the others in it. I kept expecting to turn a corner and run into Sam carrying a briefcase full of papers from his latest business meeting. Or see Fiona snacking on a couple dozen pizzas in the kitchen. Or find Henry and Chief Newman playing pool in the game room.

I made my way to my room and plopped down on the thick bed. I glanced at the alarm clock. A little after ten. I closed my eyes, then opened them. I sat up. I got off the bed and paced around the room. I stared at the clock. Exactly two minutes had pa.s.sed.

I couldn't sit still until it was time to meet Lulu-I'd go crazy. So, I took a quick shower to kill some time. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand it and let it soak into my body, as if it would linger there and drive away the cold of the factory. Once I'd dried off, I put on my favorite pair of faded jeans, sneakers, and a T-s.h.i.+rt with POW! and BIF! and BAM! and other cartoon words on it.

I took extra care with my makeup. I was going to war, so I put on all my paint. Foundation, powder, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick. After all, a girl should look her best when she was about to meet her inevitable doom and death. A leather jacket completed the look. It wasn't Bulluci's fall collection, but it would have to do.

I grabbed a couple of CDs out of the cardboard boxes that littered the floor and tossed them into a bag with the swords and scabbard. I needed to psych myself up a little bit for the mission at hand. Okay, a lot. A whole h.e.l.l of a lot.

I took a long, last look at myself in the mirror. Fear, panic, worry. All those emotions and more swirled in my troubled blue eyes. Tension tightened my face underneath all the makeup. I blew out a long, long breath. My emotions, my fears, my concerns didn't matter anymore. All that was important now was saving Striker and the rest of the Fearless Five.

It was time to go to work.

KarmaGirl.

26.

I walked to the garage attached to the far side of the manor and flipped on a switch. Row after row of cars, motorcycles, and vans gleamed under the bright lights. I randomly picked a set of keys off a pegboard near the door and hit the alarm b.u.t.ton. The lights on a silver Aston Martin lit up. Not a bad ride. Not a bad ride at all.

I opened the driver's side door, slid inside, and put my bag of swords in the pa.s.senger seat. I adjusted the mirrors, fastened my seat belt, and popped in a CD. Carly Simon's deep, husky, angry voice blared out, singing about people being vain, among other things.

My spirits lifted just a bit. ”Ready or not, here I come. Carmen Cole, reporter extraordinaire, to the rescue.”

I stomped down on the gas.

Thirty minutes later, I tapped my fingers on the side of my parfait gla.s.s. The dark dregs of a triple-chocolate milk shake clung to the bottom of the container. I glanced at my watch. Eleven-fifteen. Lulu was late. My inner voice chattered. I couldn't wait any longer. I had to go. Now. I put a ten-dollar bill on the table and stood.

The door chimed open. A motor sounded, and Lulu zoomed into the diner. The Asian woman zipped over to me. The cobalt streaks in her black hair gleamed under the bright lights. I sank back down into my cherry-colored vinyl booth.

”Sorry. Traffic was terrible,” Lulu said. ”Yeti Girl was throwing cars around the freeway. Swifte showed up and helped the cops tranq her, but it took them forever to get the debris off the road.”

”I was about to give up on you.”

”Now, you should know better than that, Sister Carmen. I always deliver. I'm better than the post office.

If you'll step outside with me, I have the items you requested.”

I followed Lulu out to the parking lot. A black van not unlike the one the Fearless Five used sat in the shadows. Lulu knocked once on the door. It slid open, revealing Jasper. He smiled at me.

”Step into my parlor,” Lulu said.

A hydraulic lift hissed to life. Lulu strapped her chair to the device, which picked her up and deposited her inside the van. Once Lulu was settled, I climbed inside and shut the door behind me.

”You remember Jasper.”

I nodded at the bomb expert.

”He has the items you wanted.”

Jasper opened a black duffel bag at his feet. He pulled out a device shaped like a cherry with the stem attached. ”These contain a very concentrated form of explodium. Think of them as minigrenades that pack a h.e.l.l of a punch. I've made ten of them for you.”

”How big a punch?” I asked.

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