Heroine Complex

by Sarah Kuhn

  “Hey!” yelled a peevish-looking woman near the front of the line. I noticed her hair was arranged in a passable imitation of Aveda’s flowing locks. “No cuts, dude!”

  Disapproving murmurs erupted from the rest of the line, the tension percolating as they craned their necks to get a better look at the loudmouth rule-breaker.

  “Sir!” Lucy stepped in front of me. “You’ll need to go to the end of the line if you want to talk to Aveda. You can’t just—”

  “UberAde or PowerThrust?” Giant Dude raised his voice to drown out Lucy.

  “Um . . . what?” I tried to decipher the strange collection of words he’d just spit out as the outraged din from the line got louder.

  “Your favorite sports drink!” he bellowed. “It’s UberAde, right?”

  “No!” Hair Doppelganger yelped. “C’mon, everyone knows it’s PowerThrust! It says so on her trading card!”

  “But she endorses UberAde,” countered Giant Dude. “Aveda, you look really hot on the new billboards, by the way.”

  “Endorsing something just means she was paid to drink it!” growled Hair Doppelganger. “It says nothing about personal preference!”

  “I believe Aveda has way too much integrity to endorse something she doesn’t love. Isn’t that right, Aveda?”

  He fixed me with a knowing look and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for confirmation of his genius.

  “Sir.” Lucy took action, vaulting herself over the velvet rope and landing in front of Giant Dude. In one swift motion, she wrapped a hand around his left wrist and twisted it behind his back, sending him to his knees.

  “Yoooooooow!” he yelped, his voice thinning into a pathetic whine. “Police brutality!”

  Lucy started to drag him through the crowd. She might not have superpowers, but she was wicked strong.

  “I’m not police, darling,” she said, baring her teeth.

  “Golly!” Maisy’s thumbs were flying over her phone keyboard. “Your bodyguard is gosh-dang adorable, Aveda! You have got to tell me where I can find one of those!”

  “So he still gets to meet Aveda after breaking the rules?” Hair Doppelganger snarled, as Lucy deposited Giant Dude at the end of the line. “How is that fair?”

  “Technically, he already met her,” Lucy said.

  “Jupiter Bodyguard Entangles Fan in Devastating Dustup!” Maisy exclaimed, typing on her phone again.

  “Surely that’s the least interesting story from this event,” I protested weakly. I realized my hands had balled into tight, sweaty fists.

  It was still a cold sweat, though. Nothing to worry about.

  Definitely nothing, Soothing Inner Voice said. Think about yoga.

  “I think we need to cut this fan interaction bit short,” Lucy murmured, resuming her place at my side. “Why don’t you tell them we’re about to start the key ceremony?”

  I nodded. I could do that. Then hold the key triumphantly aloft and I’d be done. Home free. Able to resume my life of complete wallflowerism.

  I took a deep breath, unclenched my sweaty hands, and began.

  “Hey, you guys—”

  “Wheeerrre is sheee?”

  The bleat of a voice emerged from nowhere, stabbing its way through the crowd.

  “Whersh—where’s my sister?”

  Wait . . . what? Make that the bleat of an all-too-familiar voice.

  I turned around slowly, as if to protect myself for as long as possible from what I knew I was about to see.

  But there she was. Light of my life, pain in my ass: Beatrice Constance Tanaka. My baby sister. Perched on Stu Singh’s goddamn piano.

  As Bea leaned forward, her miniskirt hiked into wardrobe malfunction territory, and poor Stu aimed his eyes directly at the floor so as not to catch a fleeting-yet-unfortunate glimpse of her underwear.

  How did she fucking get here?

  “I didn’t know Stu was gonna let people sing with him,” Tommy breathed. “I woulda volunteered my mad skillz.”

  A thread of panic slithered its way through my stomach, wild and wormy. Lucy’s hand closed around my upper arm.

  “It’s all right,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let’s just get her out of here.”

  As if prompted by a sisterly sixth sense, Bea’s head whipped in my direction, her glittering green eyes landing on me.

  “Aveda!” she shrieked. “Oh em gee! Do you know where my sister is?! I am gonna siiiiiing for her!”

  “Oh my good gosh-dang!” Maisy squealed. “Do you guys know this rug rat?”

  “Of course not,” I stuttered. “She’s a fan. Shows up at all my appearances.”

  “She looks a bit young for that bottle of bourbon she’s swigging from,” Shasta sneered.

  Shit. I was pretty sure I recognized said bottle as the same one that had previously resided in my locked—or so I thought—liquor cabinet.

  I was going to murder Scott. Well, maybe Bea first. Then Scott.

  “We’ll go over there together,” Lucy whispered. “You talk her down. I’ll provide the muscle.”

  I nodded and raised my voice to address the crowd. “Not to worry, folks! Aveda Jupiter is always here to help, no matter how small the peril.”

  That sounded so much better in my head.

  My hope was this declaration would cause the crowd to immediately revert to chitchatting among themselves. But the silence only thickened, the weight of several hundred human eyes boring into me and Lucy as we climbed over the velvet rope and threaded our way through the crowd. Kitty eyes, too, since I couldn’t seem to escape the stare of all those damn cats. Everyone was way too interested in the drama swirling around the girl on top of the piano.

  Bea always had that effect on people: a certain charisma that seemed to hypnotize whatever room she inhabited. It was what made her one of the most popular girls at her school. Unlike me, she was simply incapable of hiding. Usually I admired that quality.

  At the moment, I found it supremely unfortunate.

  Breathe, Soothing Inner Voice reminded me. Your heartbeat is even, even, even.

  I breathed with each step across the room. In and out, in and out. Dammit, that cheese-sweat stench was still all too present.

  “Bea,” I hissed, as we finally reached the piano. “You need to get down now.”

  She turned toward me, gaze focusing and unfocusing.

  “Aveda,” she slurred. “Where’s Evie? I want her to hear my song!”

  “And I’m pretty sure she would want you to get down from there,” I said firmly. “Let’s go.” I reached over, my hand closing around her wrist.

  “No.” She wrenched away. “SOOOOONG.” She rose to her knees and gave Stu Singh a half-assed “let’s get started” motion.

  “Don’t you dare,” I snapped at Stu.

  He touched the brim of his signature fedora, letting me know he was cool with that.

  “Peoples!” Bea bellowed, throwing her arms wide. “If my sh—sister were here . . . she’d want me to stop. But I say . . . never. No matter how much it emb—embarrasses her.”

  “Beatrice.” I was acutely aware of the titillated murmur sweeping through the crowd. I swore I could also hear the enthusiastic sound of Maisy’s thumbs hitting her phone screen. “Stop.”

  “C’mon, Bea.” Lucy hoisted herself onto the piano and maneuvered within grabbing distance of Bea’s ankle. Bea dodged, but Lucy was nothing if not nimble: her arm jutted out and latched on to Bea’s leg.

  “Nooooooooooo!” Bea wailed, her fingertips scrabbling against the piano top.

  I darted around to the other end of the piano, dancing from side to side, trying to get myself into position so I could help Lucy corral Bea’s squirmy body. Weirdly the murmur of the crowd seemed to be increasing in volume, taking on the menacing hum of a swarm of angry bees.

&nbs
p; What could they possibly be buzzing about? I thought frantically as Lucy finally dragged Bea off the piano and shoved her into my arms. This situation is getting less scandalous by the minute.

  “It’s glowing!” someone cried.

  Glowing? Bea wasn’t—wait a second.

  I whirled around and I saw it. The telltale golden swirl of a new demon portal. Opening up directly over the VIP section.

  Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

  “Stay here,” Lucy hissed. “I’ll get closer to the portal.”

  I nodded mechanically as she darted off through the crowd. Dealing with a new portal hadn’t been part of the plan. Then again Bea also hadn’t been part of the plan. This whole “plan” was spiraling into disaster and there was nothing I could do except watch helplessly as my palms got sweatier and sweatier and—

  No, Soothing Inner Voice ordered. Stop. Think. It’ll be okay.

  My palms were so sweaty, Bea nearly slipped out of my grasp. I tightened my hold on her.

  “AVEDA!”

  I turned in the other direction to see Giant Dude barreling toward us, arms waving as he shoved his way through the crowd.

  “I’LL HELP YOU!” he bellowed. “LET US VANQUISH THE YOUNG INTERLOPER TOGETHER!”

  Whoomph!

  A blob of bright colors swooped out of the portal and landed a few feet from us with a thud. I squinted at it as it took shape.

  Oh . . . oh, fuck. It was . . .

  It was another Aveda statue.

  The demons had fucking imprinted on Aveda’s swag statue.

  The statue advanced on us, lurching forward with menacingly creaky steps, its painted-on Aveda grin a parody of her million-watt smile. I saw the telltale glint of demon fangs.

  “Oh my God!” someone shrieked. “The evil Aveda statue is gonna kill us all!”

  Whoomph! Whoomph! Whoomph!

  Three more statues dropped from the portal. “Make that statues!” someone else yelled.

  The crowd parted for the Aveda statues and the screams started, a wall of noise overtaking the claustrophobic space. People pushed and shoved at each other, but there was nowhere to go: the sheer mass of the crowd made exiting impossible. Bea sagged against me, eyelashes fluttering, apparently ready to pass out now that the drama was in full swing. I glanced down and noticed she’d scraped her knee, probably while flailing around on the piano. And there was a little bit of blood.

  Even a little bit would be enough to attract the demons’ attention.

  Shit.

  “Get away from Aveda, youngling!” bellowed Giant Dude, still gunning for Bea. “She has demon-busting to do!”

  I froze, panic thrumming through my entire being. My senses were overloaded and it was just all too much and there was nothing Soothing Inner Voice or yoga breathing or any of that bullshit could do about it. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

  Giant Dude barreled at us from one direction, a mountain of fanatical human launching itself forward. And the Aveda statues bore down on us from the other side, their lurchy steps ominous and zombie-like. I stared at them for a moment. Bea was bleeding. Why weren’t they swarming us in their usual piranha-like fashion, fangs already sinking into our flesh, ripping us apart—

  God, why was I visualizing that?

  The crowd had managed to mostly get out of the way, allowing both the demon statues and Giant Dude a clear path to me and my sister. I had no idea where the fuck Lucy had vanished to.

  The thick air pressed against me and those kitty-covered walls felt like they were closing in, their tiny mouths threatening to swallow me whole. I tried to breathe, but the corset pinched me, stealing every bit of air. Sweat bloomed anew on my palms.

  Only this time, it wasn’t cold sweat.

  No. That wasn’t possible. It could only be cold. It had to be cold. I had to make sure it was fucking cold—

  Nononononononono.

  Giant Dude reached us and clamped a meaty hand on Bea’s shoulder and my formerly Soothing Inner Voice quickly and viciously morphed into an entirely different kind of thought.

  No . . . NO ONE FUCKS WITH MY SISTER.

  My palm sweat spiked in temperature, a jolt of heat, bright and burning and hot . . . hot, hot, hot, way too fucking hot . . . hot . . .

  Flame shot out of my hand in a blur of orange and red and yellow, whizzing across the room with a mighty whoosh, and obliterating the Aveda statue demons one by one: Bam! Bam! Bam!

  The demons exploded, but the fire kept going, crashing into the actual Aveda statue.

  Baaaaaaaaam!

  It went up in flames, the chemical-heavy scent of plastic drenching the air.

  I braced myself for the screams. The stampede toward the door. The feeling of helplessness I was all too familiar with.

  But then the flames disappeared in a puff of white mist and Lucy emerged from behind the remnants of the statue, clutching a fire extinguisher.

  “What . . .” Her lacy dress was tangled around her legs. And her eyes were full of terror.

  “Lucy . . .” I whispered.

  But it was lost in the din that started as a slow clap and built into genuine applause. Bea sagged more heavily against me, snoring in earnest.

  I glanced up at the ceiling. The portal flattened into a line and winked out of sight.

  “Holy cats!” shrieked Maisy. “Is that a new power?”

  “I’m tweeting it!” yelled Hair Doppelganger.

  “You shouldn’t do that before Aveda’s ready to answer the fourteen kazillion inevitable questions!” countered Giant Dude.

  “Which she’ll be doing in my gosh-dang exclusive interview!” interjected Maisy. “Isn’t that right, Aveda?”

  As they all continued to shout and murmur and buzz, I said nothing, my gaze still locked with Lucy’s. Bea chose that moment to start awake.

  “Mmm,” she snuffled, rubbing her cheek against my shoulder. She raised her head and squinted.

  “Wha’ happened?” she slurred. Her eyes sharpened as she took in the smoke lingering in the air and the charred remains of the Aveda statue. A bit of sobriety crept into her gaze. “What did Evie burn down this time?”

  AVEDAPOCALYPSE!

  Who’s the New Girl on Fire?

  by Maisy Kane, Bay Bridge Kiss Editrix

  Aveda Jupiter never received the key to the city at tonight’s shindig . . . but as it turns out, sweet ’Friscans, she had a big surprise for us! Apparently, the beloved Daughter of San Francisco can make FIRE. Like, with her HANDS.

  No word on whether this is a new development or merely a trick A chose not to bust out ’til this very moment (and really, Aveda-girl, you couldn’t give your pal Maisy a heads up?), but rest assured I’ll be the first to know. And you, dear readers, will be the second!

  Sadly for us, this means we may now have to share our glorious superheroine with the rest of the world. I mean, yes, non-Bay-Area-ers are familiar enough with A as a kickass local demon slayer, but I can’t help but think having a show-offy new superpower—a superpower so obviously better and stronger than any we’ve seen before—puts her in the running for International Celeb status.

  In other words? This changes everything.

  Shasta’s Corner! Shasta (Maisy’s bestie) here. Want to look as cool as Aveda? Then check out Pussy Queen’s brand-new selection of corsets. Fire power not included. Haha. (Editrix’s Note: Shast, when you actually write out “haha,” it kills the gosh-dang joke.)

  CHAPTER SIX

  “OFF, OFF . . . get it off!”

  The fingers of my right hand clawed at my back as I burst into Jupiter HQ, trying to free myself from the corset. An errant curl fell over my eyes. Three hours were up and my glamour had worn off.

  “Evie, love. Hold still and we’ll get it off!”

  Lucy trailed behind me, dragging half-conscious Bea wi
th her. I motored into the foyer, the force of my stomping feet sending one of the gear-like buttons from my boots to the hardwood floor with a clang. But even the sheer realness of that sound wasn’t enough to bring me back to Earth.

  Scott was waiting for us in the foyer, his usually relaxed shoulders rigid with tension. I stopped abruptly, sending another button to the floor. Clang.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasped. “And how could you—”

  “I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in placation. “We left the liquor cabinet unlocked. And Bea took advantage. And then climbed out her bedroom window.”

  Shit. In my overeagerness to squelch Anxiety Ball, I had forgotten to relock the liquor cabinet. So this fiasco was my fault.

  “I came over to see if I could help,” he said.

  You could’ve helped earlier, I thought. Why wouldn’t you try that damn spell? I’ve begged you to for years and it might’ve stopped me from . . . from . . .

  I tamped down on my rising anger, hauled Bea from Lucy’s grasp, and shoved her at Scott. “Take her. Patch up her knee and put her in one of the upstairs bedrooms and go home. We’ll talk later.”

  I brushed past him and marched toward Aveda’s bedroom. My breathing sped up as my brain cycled through an array of horrifying thoughts.

  What if Lucy hadn’t been there? What if the statue had been bigger? What if there had been more demons? Whatifwhatifwhatif.

  By the time I flung open the door of Aveda’s bedroom, my breath was coming and going in shallow gasps—the gasps of someone who was being slowly but surely buried alive.

  “Aveda,” I wheezed.

  She was perched on the bed, ensconced in her mountain of pillows, her face lit by the glow of the iPad in her hands. Nate was leaning against the dresser, his expression flummoxed, as if he couldn’t begin to comprehend what had just happened.

  I couldn’t, either.

  When Aveda saw me, her eyes went wide and shiny.

  “Evie,” she breathed. “My brilliant, beautiful Evie. The tweets and Facebook posts about your little adventure are uh . . . may . . . zing.” She beamed at me. “You finally embraced your true self. And at just the right moment. I know you’ve always been a little shy about the whole ‘I have an insane fire power that could potentially kill millions’ thing, but—”