“Gilly dear,” Mrs. Mooshman called gaily, “the mayor’s here! He wants to talk to you, and so do some of these nice reporters. They’re going to put our names in the paper.”
“Hey, wait just a second.” The blonde pushed past her. “I’m a reporter, too, and this was my scoop!”
“Hey, Devon,” one of the other guys called out, “what happened, anyway?”
And before Gilly knew what happened, Devon Drake, girl reporter whose mace had not saved the day, had become the heroine of the story. It seemed a whole gaggle of reporters had been accompanying the mayor on a trip through West Riverside, so His Honor could point out how dangerous the neighborhood was at the same time he showed them where the riverboat casino would go.
And now they’d all stumbled on the story of the year, wherein the plucky girl reporter was mugged in an alley and a tall, handsome good Samaritan came flying in to save her. Gilly noted that the part about Ms. Drake cowering in the corner nursing her broken nails got left out somehow.
Tony was commandeering a couple of reporters of his own. “It was just like Batman. I mean, the dude— he, like, dropped out of the sky. It was so cool. No, wait, more like that immortal guy on TV—what’s his name? The one who wears a long black coat because he cuts people’s heads off and hides his sword under his coat?”
The reporters all looked mystified, but they dutifully recorded every word.
Gilly gave one last glance around, but there was no sign of her mysterious rescuer. Batman? An immortal with a sword? Somehow she figured it was some regular Joe in his winter coat and scarf. It was bitterly cold, after all.
“Can you give us a description of this man, miss?” Somebody shoved a microphone in her face.
“I don’t know. It was very dark.” She threw up her hands. “Long black coat. He had a hat and a scarf. Oh, and sunglasses.”
“Sunglasses? Are you kidding?”
“Nope.” Gilly drew upon her mental picture. It was so vivid she shivered inside her coat. “He was definitely wearing sunglasses, the really dark kind.” She shrugged. “That’s all I know.”
“Yeah, I forgot that,” Tony chimed in. “Dude was wearing shades at night, man.”
Gilly felt the weight of her day descend on her all at once, and she gathered up Mrs. Mooshman and Mr. Zamechnik and then strong-armed Tony into coming with them. “We’re walking you home first, buddy boy,” she told him with a rather severe look.
They left Devon Drake in the alley behind them hobnobbing with the mayor, as their little group marched homeward. Mrs. Mooshman was gabbing the whole way, but Gilly didn’t hear much of it. All she could think about was the man in black.
This was the first time in her entire life she’d been a damsel in distress and someone strong and dishy had actually rescued her.
What a day.
Chapter Four
Luke fled back to his car, feeling pulverized by all the sounds and sights and smells he couldn’t quite filter out. God! That woman with the whistle—and the other one who kept screeching! His head was pounding and buzzing at the same time.
Well, at least Gilly was safe. He smiled, even though it hurt his lips. But the mental picture of her and her garbage-can lid was one for the books. If only she hadn’t been clanging it around quite so loudly.
Carefully he removed his protective earplugs, tossed off the cashmere scarf and the old hat of his dad’s and then slumped behind the steering wheel, too fried to drive just yet. His big old Cadillac with its shaded windows was quiet as a tomb, and slowly his breathing returned to normal, and the freaky snapping and popping in his head subsided. But he couldn’t quite lose the overwhelming sensations of Gilly.
With his adrenaline running on high, he’d zeroed in on her like nobody’s business. His nostrils were filled with her, his eyes drank her in, his very blood pulsed with her essence, and every nerve ending in his body went on red alert. It was amazingly intimate. And amazingly painful.
Wearily he started the car with a shaky hand, aware he had to get back to the safety of the manor before he got caught. All he needed was more publicity. He could see the headlines—Freak Photog Turns Vigilante. Bionic Bully Busts up Muggers, Limps Home.
Yeah, it was great.
The Caddy glided back to Blackthorn Manor almost by itself, thank goodness. He’d always hated the family fleet of mammoth black sedans, preferring something racier and more fun. But now he was glad to bury himself in this one, with its thick windows and steady, noiseless ride.
He pulled it into the garage, surprised to find Fitz up and waiting for him.
“Sir,” the chauffeur said disapprovingly, standing there in his pajamas and robe, “you’ll forgive my saying so, sir, but you should not be out. Not in your condition, sir.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Fitzhugh eyed his attire. “Something to do with Gillian, sir?”
“You might say that.”
“How unfortunate, sir,” the big man said mournfully, twitching his mustache. “Perhaps next time I should be the one to deal with Gilly, as she is my niece. Especially given your condition, sir.”
“I can’t hide inside this mausoleum forever,” Luke returned. It would’ve sounded more convincing if he hadn’t come out of the car staggering like a drunk.
Fitz made a tsking noise. “Where did you get these clothes, sir? Not your usual style.”
“It’s your coat, Fitz,” he informed his chauffeur. “Sorry about that. At least it’s an old one. I found it and the hat in the storage room. I think the hat was my father’s.”
“The storage room? Been in the secret passage again, have we, sir?”
Luke attempted to maintain his balance as he peeled off the coat and handed over the other items. “If you would be so kind as to return these things to the storage room, Fitzhugh.”
“Of course, sir.” He cleared his throat meaningfully. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, sir, next time perhaps you should consider waking me so that I might drive you.”
“I’ve got to find a way to control this myself,” Luke said harshly. “Being driven around like a society matron won’t help. If I have a hope of going back into the world someday, I have to get stronger and regulate these damn powers better. I have to.”
“Yes, sir.” Fitz offered a discreet arm to help him into the house, where Abigail was waiting.
“You look awful,” she whispered. “You can see how much good it did you to get out into the fresh air. Maybe this will convince you to pay no attention to what Gilly says.”
“Maybe.” He cracked a smile. “But probably not.”
And so the three of them, an odd little party, made their way upstairs to Luke’s room. Although he felt as if he’d gone ten rounds with the world heavyweight champ, he knew this wasn’t a case of physical aches and pains.
“I’m going to try the sensory-deprivation tank,” he announced. “My senses could stand a little deprivation at the moment.”
Rigid with determination, he flipped open the lid and lowered himself into the tepid gray tank. Control. Relax. Turn down the volume. Mind over matter.
It had to work. But if it didn’t, what could he try next?
ALL ANYONE COULD talk about was the man in black.
As Gilly tried to gulp down a cup of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, the room was abuzz.
“I heard he was, like, seven feet tall, so they think he must be a professional basketball player,” one particularly gullible woman offered. “You know, the Chicago Bulls were in town last night. Do they have any seven footers?”
“Seven feet tall?” Gilly just laughed.
“They’re calling him the Riverside Samaritan, have you heard?” The bubbly young home-ec teacher was practically beside herself with excitement “I watched Devon Drake on the news this morning. She said she would’ve been dead for sure, because the six guys who attacked her all had knives and guns. The Westside Samaritan did karate or judo or something.”
“Six attack
ers?” Gilly rolled her eyes.
“My morning paper called him the Alley Cat, not the Samaritan,” a no-nonsense coach put in. “They’re theorizing that he has a rare eye disease—hence the dark glasses.”
“Well,” Gilly interjected, picking up a different paper from the three or four that littered the table, “this one says Streetwise Knight. And this other one says Riverside Rescuer. They’re all ridiculous, if you ask me.”
“I heard he was blind, and the kung fu was all by smell!” the wide-eyed home-ec teacher added.
“You were there, right, Gillian?” the Bulls fan asked. “Tony Fielder was telling a group of kids this morning that he was there first and you came later.”
“Yeah, I was there.” Gilly stood, gathering up all the papers so she could throw them away. “It was no big deal, okay? Or it wouldn’t be if the papers weren’t treating it like the nail in West Riverside’s coffin. Did you see this?” She held up the most objectionable one. “‘Mayor Malone calls West Riverside the most dangerous place in the city. “Something must be done!’” It’s enough to make you lose your lunch.”
The others stared at her for a few seconds, and then went right back to gossiping about the seven-foot karate expert with cataracts.
Gilly listened ruefully. It all would’ve been incredibly silly if it wasn’t for the fact that he had seemed like someone extraordinary. Not a giant, not a kung fu master, not someone with X-ray vision. Just a man. Albeit a very potent man.
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Funny how it all seemed like a dream now when at the time it had been the most vivid experience of her life. Maybe danger did that to you. Made time stand still, made people seem a lot sexier and stronger and—
“Hey, how did it go last night?” her friend Suzette asked, heading off Gilly’s fantasies at the pass.
“Last night?”
Suzette gave her a funny look. “You know, with Lucas Blackthorn. You were going to go ask him to sign on to our campaign, right?”
“Oh, yeah, right.” She had almost forgotten about Luke with all this brouhaha. “It went fine.” And then she remembered. “Except for the fact that I sort of kissed him by mistake.”
Suzette’s eyes were round. “You what?”
Gilly waved it off. “It was no big deal. And besides, it happened after he agreed to let us use his name, so it doesn’t matter. I also broached Career Day and the Snow Ball—oh, and a scholarship fund—so I guess I’d say it went very well.”
“Okay, if you say so.” But the assistant principal looked as if she was trying hard not to laugh. “Listen, I’m going to go run off the sign-up sheets for a rally against the casino. You want to draft a press release with Blackthorn’s name in it to send out today? I mean, I wouldn’t want all that lip action of yours to go to waste.”
“Suzette!” Gilly protested, but her friend was already wending her way out of the lounge, looking very smug..
Lip action. Really. One stupid little smack that hadn’t meant anything to either of them. Had it?
Gilly decided to get out of the lounge while she still had her sanity. All this West Riverside Samaritan talk was making her balmy. Too bad that as soon as she swung open the door into the hallway, she ran right into Devon Drake.
“Hi!” the blonde said brightly, clicking on a small tape recorder and pushing it at Gilly. “You’re just the one I was looking for. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“Did you get your fingernails fixed?” Gilly asked just as brightly.
“Oh, uh-huh. Thanks for asking.”
Doesn’t even get it. Gilly shook her head. “Listen, I would love to talk to you about how wonderful the Benedict Academy is, as I’m sure you can see if you look around you. Or about how devastating the mayor’s proposed casino project will be to this neighborhood. There’s a great story in that.”
Devon screwed up her pretty face. “I don’t think so. But, hey, what can you tell me about Nightshade?”
“Nightshade?” Gilly kept walking toward her classroom. “You mean the guy in the alley?”
The reporter nodded eagerly. “Nightshade is the name that seems to have stuck. Good one, huh?”
“I hadn’t heard it before. Who comes up with these things, anyway?”
Tony Fielder popped up at the right moment to answer that particular question. “Hey, Ms. Q!” he called out, getting into step on the way to her English class. “That was me! Good job, huh? Dude wore shades at night. Nightshade, get it?”
“Yeah, Tony, that’s great.”
“So who is this Nightshade character?” Devon asked in a conspiratorial tone. “Do you have any clue about his real identity?”
“Not even a hint of a clue. Sorry.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that this tall dark fabulous stranger…” Devon liked her own words so much she shivered.
Gilly was rapidly getting the idea that Ms. Drake was not so much driven by her nose for news as by a certain fascination for a pair of broad shoulders and a serious case of animal magnetism. She wished she could put her hands over Tony’s ears; he was a little too interested in all this. But she knew he’d seen far worse than one amorous reporter in his young life.
“But seriously, Gillian,” Devon said, leaning in closer, “why would this fabulous hero just come out of nowhere to save two women and a child and then take no credit for it? That is beyond weird, don’t you think?”
Gilly paused at the door to her first-period classroom. “Maybe he values his privacy.”
“It seemed like he knew you,” Devon said thoughtfully, chewing her glossy lower lip. “I just sensed this…connection between the two of you.”
How did you have time to sense anything from where you were cowering in the corner? “No, there was no connection between us, and I have no idea who he is,” Gilly said politely. She switched gears, giving the home team one last try. “But if you’d like to talk about the Benedict Academy, I can guarantee you a wonderful human-interest story. We’re in the business of saving young lives here every day. Not in alleyways, but in the classroom.”
“Not interested,” Devon snapped. “But if you hear anything about Nightshade, you call me, you hear? Night or day, whenever. Because I’m going to break this story wide open. Can’t you just see my byline on the story ‘Who is Nightshade—secret identity revealed.’” She shivered again.
“Good luck.” Okay, so maybe she was wrong about the nose for news. Gilly pushed open the door, ushering Tony in ahead of her and firmly turning her back on Devon Drake.
“Take your seats, people,” Gilly said loudly, facing twenty-five young students. All in their places with bright shining faces. Or close enough, at any rate. She perched on the front of her desk, opened the play they were studying—Twelfth Night—and smiled with encouragement and enthusiasm. “Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Ms. Quinn,” they echoed in singsong voices.
“Today we start with act 2, scene 3.” She looked up expectantly. “Who wants to be Sir Toby Belch today? Volunteers?”
Another day, another class. Another chance for control and order to prevail against chaos. In other words, nothing like last night.
“GILLY, ARE YOU about done?” Suzette was already in her coat, clutching a bulging briefcase, clearly ready to leave for the day. “It’s almost six. I can give you a ride if you want to go home now.”
Gilly pushed her chair back and stretched. “Wish I could. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got way too much to do. I haven’t even gotten to the press release yet”
“It can wait until tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but it shouldn’t” Gilly fixed a smile on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll get out of here sooner or later.”
“Probably later.” Suzette shook her head. “Listen, some of the juniors are cleaning up the gym to earn extra money, there’s a Brownie troop in the kindergarten room, and the latchkey program is in the cafeteria till seven. So you’re not alone.”
“Benny’s is nev
er empty,” Gilly returned lightly. Too many kids with no place else to go. No place safe, at any rate.
“You know, Gilly, after last night, you probably shouldn’t walk home alone. These streets seem to be getting worse. Maybe you should—”
“I’ll catch a ride with one of the teachers from the cafeteria.”
“Good.” Suzette waved one finger. “See you tomorrow.”
Gilly immersed herself in her study plan for second-semester art classes, arranging and rearranging old plans to suit new shortages of supplies, as the minutes sped by.
The next time she looked up, it was past nine o’clock. There went the escort from the latchkey program. Rubbing her eyes, Gilly stood and collected the rest of her papers. She still hadn’t gotten to that pesky press release, but maybe she could do it at home in front of the TV.
Whistling a few bars of some old song about sunshine and blue skies, Gilly let herself out into the main hall of the Benedict Academy. It was unusually quiet even for nine-thirty, with no errant kids milling around. Maybe some of the parents had begun to believe the bad press and were bringing their children home earlier.
“Hello?” she called out, sticking her head into the kindergarten room. But if a Brownie troop had been there, they were long gone. The gym was just as empty, although it did look well scrubbed, which meant the juniors had done their job.
She even tried the cafeteria just to be sure, but it, too, was silent and shuttered. “So I guess I’m walking, after all,” she said out loud, her words echoing in the deserted hallway. No big deal. After all, she walked to and from Benny’s every day.
She shrugged into her coat, pulled her hat down over her ears and hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder, preparing to meet the onslaught of cold air as soon as she hit the pavement.
“Brrr.” It felt colder than she remembered, probably because the school was stuffy, and she moved briskly to create some body heat. Then she paused.
Standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, Gilly waited, listening. How very strange. There was nothing she could put her finger on, but she had the distinct impression she was being followed..
Touch Me Not Page 6
