Heroine Worship

by Sarah Kuhn

  “Oh, I’m sure Ms. Rorick here is accustomed to handling delicate equipment,” she said with a wink.

  Rose actually looked borderline flustered, which was refreshing. Usually, she was the epitome of stoic, buttoned-up law enforcement—though we had gotten a glimpse of the real Rose when she indulged in a few drinks with us after Evie’s big karaoke battle against Maisy. The real Rose cracked the occasional lazy smile, didn’t shy away from dirty jokes, and possessed actual human emotions underneath her poker-faced exterior.

  I hid a smile at Lucy’s flirting and flicked my gaze around the shop, as if looking away might give her and Rose a moment of privacy. Maisy was actually leaving us alone for once, fussing with a mannequin near the back, attempting to lace its torso into a complicated-looking corset. Shruti was nowhere to be seen, but I knew she still had the main branch of her shop to manage and probably wasn’t able to mind the pop-up version constantly. Dave was perched on his stool, leaning back against the wall behind the coffee bar, stoned as usual and practically asleep. When we’d arrived, he’d muttered something about how “there are no shortcuts to any place worth going” and that had been it as far as human interaction was concerned. Despite Shruti’s best efforts, it didn’t seem like his social skills were improving. I also couldn’t help but wonder if he was just reciting bad fortune cookie messages to us, which seemed possibly kind of racist.

  Rose, Lucy, Evie, Bea, and I were gathered around the portal. Bea had insisted on coming along after hearing Rose was going to be there, but her reasons were far less lusty than Lucy’s. In addition to dedicating herself to learning more about the science of the Otherworld under Nate’s tutelage, Bea had also developed a fascination with the bits of tech Rose’s Demon Unit had used to scan the areas affected by portals when portals were still opening up on a regular basis. She’d spent a lot of time recently begging and wheedling Rose to let her “borrow” one of the scanners for experimentation purposes—or at the very least, to take it apart. Rose had thus far managed to put her off by claiming they were police property and had to be under her custodianship whenever they left the precinct, but I had a feeling it was just a matter of time before Bea got her to relent.

  “Ahem.” Rose cleared her throat and shook her head, as if attempting to shoo her flustered feelings away. She brandished the scanner at us: a clunky gray bar that looked kind of like the hand-held metal detectors TSA officials wielded with enthusiasm at airports. Only this one was designed to detect supernatural energies. The scanner was part of an array of tech that had been developed back when the demons came through the first big Otherworld portal. (And yes, the scientists who designed it had been deeply influenced by Ghostbusters. When the previously impossible suddenly becomes real, it’s only natural to draw from established sources, even if they are fictional and kind of ridiculous.)

  The hope was the scanners would be able to detect and predict portals before they opened. In reality, all they seemed capable of was sensing lingering supernatural energy and telling us the portals were closed and staying that way. When we’d scanned the Pussy Queen portal right after it had opened and closed the first time, the results had been inconclusive. But given that it had just done that all over again, it seemed best to give it another look.

  “I’m going to scan the portal,” Rose continued. “The read-out area—” She tapped a small black screen at the top of the bar. “—will flash red if there’s any lingering supernatural energy to be found. Then—”

  “Then it does a quickie analysis on elements that might make up that energy, and if further breakdown of those elements is required, you have to take the results to a lab and have someone look at them more closely,” Bea piped up. “Right?”

  “Right,” Rose said, giving her an approving nod.

  “Just thought I might need to translate for the jocks over here,” Bea said, waving a dismissive hand at Evie, Lucy, and me.

  “We’re the jocks now?” Evie said, cocking an eyebrow. “Really? Since when have I done anything remotely jock-like? I still can’t even run up a flight of stairs without losing my breath.”

  “You guys are the muscle,” Bea insisted. “Me, Nate, and Rose are the brains.”

  “What’s Scott, then?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “He’s the mystical, magical force that binds us all together,” Bea said, without missing a beat. “Like . . . the feels.”

  “Oh my god, enough,” Evie said, laughing a little. “Rose, please continue.”

  “Right,” Rose said, just as Lucy raised her hand. “Um, yes, Lucy?”

  “Does the scanner make a special beeping sound when it detects supernatural energy?” Lucy asked. “Because I think that would be much more exciting than the red light by itself.”

  “Yes, actually,” Rose said. One corner of her mouth quirked up. “And you can also set it so the beeping picks up in speed the closer you get to the affected area. I’ll make sure that feature is switched on for you.”

  She tapped something on the scanner and then held it over the portal, waiting.

  We all watched, holding our collective breath.

  Nothing happened. No flash. No nothing.

  We exhaled.

  “That’s been the result every time we’ve scanned this portal,” Rose said. “But we haven’t scanned the rest of the shop since the portal first opened. Perhaps it’s time to do that again, just in case anything escaped during this latest incident.”

  “Tip-top idea,” Lucy said, giving Rose a flirty smile. “I’ll help.”

  “I think we should let them handle that on their own,” Evie said, placing a hand on my arm as I moved to follow them.

  “Agreed,” Bea said, trotting off toward Dave’s coffee bar. “Maybe Lucy will be able to soften Rose up enough to let me play with the scanner. In the meantime, I need a caffeine injection.”

  “So this is morphing from a mission to us chaperoning some weird non-date?” I said, turning back to Evie.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Always the mushy romantic. But yes, basically.”

  “All right, then let’s talk about my other mission,” I said, my brain making the switch with ease. “Which is to make sure you have the best wedding ever. Have you thought about a date yet? Next spring would be beautiful. Or with summer, you could probably play up some kind of fire power theme—you know, because of the heat. Or you could go full-on holiday, though I’m not really a fan of that whole fur-trimmed cape look—”

  “Actually,” Evie cut in, giving me an amused look, “we’re thinking of doing it soon. Maybe in a month?”

  “A month?” I squeaked out. “As in four weeks? As in that is barely enough time to design flower arrangements and pick out favors and do any custom tailoring you might need and—”

  “And I don’t need any of that. I just need him. As soon as he asked me, I knew I wanted to make it official as soon as possible.”

  “Okaaaay,” I said, my brain whirring, trying to rearrange all the plans I had been making.

  “We want to keep things simple,” she continued. “Like, find a backyard or a community garden or something? He has a suit already. And I don’t need anything super fancy, I could even just get something at the mall—”

  “Stop right there!” I blurted out, holding a hand up. I grasped her by the shoulders and fixed her with my most intimidating stare. “You are not. Getting your wedding dress. At the mall!”

  She cocked an amused eyebrow and extricated herself from my grasp.

  “Annie,” she said gently—and I immediately recognized the “you’re being a diva right now and I’m going to talk you off the ledge” tone in her voice. “I really want you to be my maid of honor. Even though some people—” She cut herself off abruptly, but I knew the end of that sentence had to be a more diplomatic version of: “thought it was the worst idea in the history of ever.”

  But that’s becau
se they were thinking of Aveda Jupiter as she’d existed before Evie and I had our big talk. The diva who couldn’t share the spotlight. Now that I was working on reclaiming my mojo and becoming the best Aveda Jupiter possible, that was all about to change. Aveda Jupiter 2.0 would be just as good at being a friend as she was at everything else.

  “Anyway,” Evie continued, gentle voice still in full effect. “I’m so happy you accepted and that you’re so enthusiastic about everything, but I really need you to—”

  “To make sure I remember this is your wedding, and it’s about what you want. Of course. Done.”

  But even as I said that, I knew one thing for certain. This wedding was not going to be some half-assed, sloppy, multi-cereal-course affair. Not if I had anything to do with it. Not if I was going to accomplish my mission, being the best maid of honor I could be. Evie might not think she’d regret a thrown-together day, but she would, eventually. She deserved to have something incredible. Something perfect. Something only I could give her. She needed me, just like she always did.

  “So you might not want all the bells and whistles,” I said, trying to think of how I could ease her into a less slapdash mindset. “But it’s a special day and you definitely want a couple nice things. Your dress, for instance—”

  “Ooh, and what you wear under the dress.” Maisy, who’d apparently been eavesdropping until just the right moment, swooped in, clapping her flaky gray hands together. “Of course you’ll come to Pussy Queen for all your bridal lingerie needs.”

  “But first, we have to take care of the dress,” I said firmly, determined not to get sidetracked. “It’s the most photographed piece of clothing you will ever wear. Particularly since you refuse to invest in any kind of iconic superhero costume.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her usual jeans/t-shirt/Chucks combo. She grinned and stuck her tongue out at me.

  “You want something that’s timeless, but uniquely you,” I continued, warming to my topic. “Something that captures your spirit. Something no one else will have.”

  I tapped my finger against my chin, my eyes scanning the shop, going into a fashion fugue state. Lucy and Rose were huddled near a corset-wearing mannequin with the scanner, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of scanning going on. More like giggly whispering, at least on Lucy’s end. My gaze finally landed on the collection of colorful racks in the corner. Shruti’s pop-up shop.

  “Something vintage,” I said, my brain clicking the pieces into place. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

  “I don’t know,” Evie said. “Those old dresses are so narrow, sometimes they don’t fit me in the hips—”

  “So we’ll get it altered,” I said, waving a hand. “It will be one-of-a-kind and effortlessly stylish. Maybe we can ask Shruti to consult on this. Where is Shruti, anyway?” I asked Maisy.

  “Indie Fashion Market in Dolores Park,” Maisy said. “She has a stand there, but I believe she’s also scouting for new stock.”

  “Indie Fashion Market,” I repeated. “I’ve heard of it. And they have a whole bridal area, do they not?”

  “It’s still too soon to be thinking about dresses, Annie,” Evie said. “I really don’t know if—”

  “It’s not too soon if your wedding is in a month,” I said. “If we don’t get on this now, you’ll be walking down the aisle naked.”

  “But—”

  “Ladies!” Lucy strolled up, waving the scanner around, with Rose trailing behind. “We’re getting no red light action at all, so what say we pack up and—”

  BEEP!

  The sound rang out through the shop, sharp and shrill, a single insistent note. We fell silent, our eyes going to the scanner—which had just let out the loudest, most unexpected noise.

  It flashed red.

  “Goodness!” Lucy exclaimed. “Could that be a false alarm or—”

  BEEEEEEP!

  Maybe I imagined it, but the sound seemed even louder and more insistent this time. I reached over, grabbed the scanner from Lucy, and brought it close to my face. I studied it, as if to confirm what the sound had just told us.

  The light still flashed red.

  “Whoa!” Bea scurried over to us, coffee cup in hand, her eyes keen with interest. “I leave you guys alone for three seconds and things get exciting!”

  My heart sped up, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. I didn’t need to be getting all hot and bothered by yet another momentary bit of excitement that was just going to end up being nothing.

  “Move the scanner around,” Rose urged. “See if you can pinpoint the center of the energy.”

  I took a hesitant step to the left, my eyes glued to the scanner. The red light vanished.

  I took a step to the right. The whole shop had fallen silent and I could feel everyone’s eyes glued on me, waiting to see what I would discover. I took another step to the right.

  BEEP! BEEEEEP!

  My heart leapt and sweat beaded my brow. I swallowed hard and moved to the right again.

  BEEPBEEPBEEP!

  “Keep it up!” Rose cried. “You’re finding it!”

  I took three quick steps to the right.

  BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEP!

  The red light flashed, its quickfire strobe matching the pulse pounding in my ears.

  “That’s it!” Rose crowed. “That has to be it!”

  I’d never heard her sound so excited. I took one more step to the right.

  BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEEEEEP!

  Now the scanner was non-stop, beeping its urgent distress call. A series of numbers flashed on the read-out.

  “Rose!” I exclaimed. “It’s trying to tell us something.”

  Rose moved next to me, her brow furrowed. She took the scanner from me and studied the read-out. Bea lurked over her shoulder.

  “Huh,” Rose said, cocking her head to the side. Bea mimicked the motion, which I might have found cute if I wasn’t dying of anticipation. “This code,” Rose continued, pointing to the jumble of numbers, “indicates that we’re picking up the leftover trace of something specific: a puppy demon.”

  “A puppy demon?” I repeated, not quite believing I’d heard right. The “puppy demons”—so named because that’s how Maisy referred to them, apparently kept as pets in the Otherworld—were the mindless, piranha-like pests that had poured out of Shasta’s smaller portals. In the past, they’d imprinted on the first thing they’d seen upon arriving in our world, which meant I’d spent a lot of my superheroing career fighting evil versions of things like cupcakes and shoes. But since Shasta had been vanquished and the smaller portals had stopped opening, we’d not seen hide nor hair of the puppy demons.

  “Yes,” said Rose. “But like I said, it’s a trace. The demon isn’t actually here anymore.”

  “So when was it here?” Evie chimed in. “Because we haven’t seen one of those things in months.”

  “Let’s get to the more important question,” I said. “Where did it go?”

  We all took a moment to ponder that.

  “If there’s only one,” Rose said hesitantly, “that means it can’t do much damage.”

  “Yeah, the direst of situations is when two escape, breed like bunny rabbits, and proceed to eat whatever’s in front of them,” Bea said. “That’s a potential city destroyer right there.”

  “I think we need to analyze these results further,” Rose said. “See if we can get any clues that will answer these questions.”

  “All right,” I said briskly, my brain snapping into battle mode. “Rose, you and Bea take this data back to HQ, confer with Nate, and see what you can find.” It seemed we had a task. A potential danger, even. I was practically giddy at the prospect. But that didn’t mean I was about to forget my other mission.

  Aveda Jupiter could multitask like a motherfucker.

  “In the meantime,” I
continued, “Evie and I have other important work to do.”

  “We do?” Evie said uncertainly.

  “Yes. We’re going to go to that Indie Fashion Market.” I planted my hands on my hips, straightened my spine, and made my voice as authoritative as possible. “We’re going to find you a wedding dress.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I LOVE CLOTHES.

  I know saying that is supposed to be a mark of the superficial, an indicator that you are perhaps less of a “real woman” than some of your more sloppily dressed cohorts—the whole “she wears short shorts, I wear t-shirts” thing. With all due respect to the great poet Taylor Swift (who I believe is fully committing to the character she created for that song), I think that’s bullshit. I derive true inner strength from my best outfits, and nothing’s more real than that.

  When I was a kid, I would coordinate my sock color with my ponytail holder. Even though Evie teased me for my matchy-matchy tendencies, it always made me feel that much more pulled together, which gave me the extra shot of confidence I needed to be her playground protector. I also harbored hope that my parents would see this as indisputable proof of my quest for perfection, even though I could only manage a B in algebra.

  When Evie and I saw The Heroic Trio, I of course responded to the fact that the three Asian women in the movie totally kicked ass. But I also loved their outfits, which ran the gamut from skin-tight red leather jumpsuits to pre-steampunk goggles and motorcycle boots. They looked fabulous. More importantly, they looked like they felt fabulous. To me, that kind of attitude was necessary if you planned on spending your days throwing yourself between packs of bloodthirsty demons and helpless human civilians. So when I became a superheroine in my own right, I knew fabulous costumes would be a cornerstone of my persona. I still had an instinctive lustful response—a sharp intake of breath, a sudden warmth in my chest—whenever I saw beautiful clothes laid out before me, waiting for me to touch, stroke, and covet.

  The Indie Fashion Market provided that experience for miles. It was an outdoor extravaganza that took over the sprawling grassy expanse of Dolores Park every third Tuesday of the month. The park was stretched over a hill, a charming oval of space that made for fantastic views if you hiked up to the highest point. Of course, right now, the most fantastic views consisted of the racks and racks of fashion blanketing the hill. Wild splashes of color dotted the whole area, like a Jackson Pollock painting come to life. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of grass and trees and perfectly preserved Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dresses.