Wonder Woman: Warbringer

by Leigh Bardugo

“A bug-out bag.” Alia hefted the duffel from the trunk, laid it on the ground, and unzipped it. “Jason has them stashed all around the city in case of emergency. In Brooklyn, too.” Alia ignored most of the gear—a tarp and tent, a water-purification system, rain ponchos, matches, freeze-dried meals. She set aside the first-aid kit. Her feet would be grateful for that later. “It’s basically everything you’d need to survive an apocalypse.”

  “Is he so sure one will come?” Diana asked.

  “No, he’s just a control freak. Jason is basically the biggest Boy Scout ever. He likes to be prepared for every possibility.”

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “Try telling him that. Aha!” Triumphantly, Alia held up a huge wad of cash. “We’re rich!”

  “Is it enough for an airplane?”

  At least Diana was consistent. “Maybe a model airplane. It’s only a thousand dollars, but it’s enough to get us a room and something to eat while we figure out what to do next.”

  Alia didn’t miss the troubled expression that crossed Diana’s face. She knew Diana truly believed in all of this Warbringer stuff, an age of bloodshed, the magical spring. Alia wasn’t sure what she thought. She couldn’t deny the bizarre things she’d seen over the last twenty-four hours, or the fact that they had somehow traveled all the way from the Aegean to the Hudson River in what had felt like the blink of an eye.

  Part of her still wanted to believe it was all a vivid dream, that she would wake up in her bedroom on Central Park West having never left for Istanbul at all. But that part of her was growing less and less convincing. Being back in Manhattan should have made Diana’s island seem more like a fantasy, but there was something about seeing this girl walk and talk in such an ordinary place that made everything that had come before feel even realer. It was like looking out a familiar window and seeing an entirely new view.

  Alia pulled a small red nylon backpack from the larger duffel. She could sort through what had happened on the island later. Right now, she was too tired and hungry to form a rational thought.

  “Could you…” She gestured to the duffel. As Diana hefted the bag into the trunk and crushed the metal back together, Alia opened the red backpack and stuffed everything she needed inside. The car’s rear end was a lumpy mess, but at least no one walking by would know it had been pried open.

  They took the stairs back down to the ground floor and then strolled casually past the attendant at the entrance. He stared, but it wasn’t as if they were leaving with a car.

  “What now?” said Diana.

  “First stop, shoes,” replied Alia, though she was dreading walking into a store with her grubby bare feet. After that, she really didn’t know what to do. And there was something else bothering her. They’d seen soldiers on all the major street corners and at the entrance and exit to the subway. It reminded her of the images she’d seen of New York after 9/11 when the National Guard had been stationed in the city. Had there been some kind of attack while she was away? Her fingers itched for her phone. Once they were settled, she needed to get online or at least find a newspaper.

  There was a Duane Reade on the corner, and as they entered the drugstore, Diana heaved a great sigh, holding her arms out to her sides. “The air is so much cooler in here.”

  The clerk behind the counter raised her brows.

  “Um, yeah, the wonders of technology. Fantastic.” Alia cleared her throat, grabbed a shopping basket, and pulled Diana down the nearest aisle.

  “Look at this place,” Diana marveled. “The lights, the profusion of plastic. Everything is so glossy.”

  Alia tried to restrain a grin. “Stop fondling the deodorants.”

  “But they look like jewels!”

  “Now I’m picturing you wearing those as earrings. Let’s keep moving.” In her peripheral vision, she could see a security guard tracking them through the store.

  She wasn’t really surprised. Diana looked like she’d gotten lost on her way to work at the barbarian strip club, and Alia was a black girl in dirty clothes with no shoes. She was a perfect magnet for a shop cop. She could almost hear her mother’s voice warning her and Jason to be careful, not to draw attention. Don’t get into a situation where you have to explain yourself.

  Lina, their father would say, you’re teaching them to imagine snubs where there are none. You’re making them afraid. It was the one thing their parents had never managed to see eye to eye on.

  At least she had a pocket full of cash. Alia found her way to a sign that said SUMMER FUN and plucked the most comfortable-looking pair of flip-flops she could find off the shelf, then herded Diana down the hair care aisle.

  “How can there be so many kinds?” Diana asked, running her fingers over the bottles of shampoo.

  “What do you use to wash your hair at home?”

  Diana shrugged. “We make our own soaps.”

  “Of course you do,” said Alia.

  Alia scanned the rows for a deep conditioner that she hoped would get her braids back in shape and a leave-in to go with it. As a kid, she’d insisted on using strawberry oil every single day until her mother had refused to buy her more.

  “I thought we were just here for shoes,” Diana said as Alia tossed the bottles into her basket.

  “And other necessities.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, these are necessities.” At least the shop cop seemed to be keeping his distance, but she could see him in the mirror, tracking back and forth down the neighboring aisle like a circling shark, just waiting for her to make trouble or step to the register without enough money.

  As they made their way to the checkout, Alia filled their basket with candy, chips, and soda, making it clear they were here to spend.

  “You don’t want anything?” she asked. “It’s on me.”

  Diana’s even white teeth worried her lower lip. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “If Jason were here, he’d try to get you to eat protein bars and squirrel food. Do you know one Halloween he gave away raisins to all the kids in the building? He said they were nature’s candy. I was getting dirty looks from the kids downstairs for months.”

  “Nature’s candy?” said Diana. “Dates maybe, but not raisins. Perhaps beets. They have a very high sugar content.”

  “It was even worse the next year. He gave away toothbrushes.” Alia shook her head. Sometimes it was hard to believe they came from the same parents. “Lucky for you, I’m a junk-food aficionado. We shall have only the finest of gummy bears and the fieriest of Doritos. Once you’ve truly experienced the sodium and high-fructose corn syrup America has to offer, you’ll never want to go home.” This time Alia couldn’t ignore the worried expression on Diana’s face. “What is it?”

  Diana fiddled with a bag of yogurt pretzels. “I’m not sure I can go home after what I’ve done.”

  “I know you guys are all no contact with the outside world, but…” Diana looked up at her with those steady dark-blue eyes, and Alia’s words trailed off as realization struck. “You mean saving me. You might not be able to go back because you saved my life.”

  Diana turned her attention to a tin of almonds. “There’s a great deal at stake. Not just for me.”

  Alia felt a tide of guilt wash through her. Diana had saved her life not once but twice. As much as she wanted to just find a way home and spend about a week sleeping, watching TV, and forgetting she’d ever met this girl, she owed her. She knew she should say something, but instead she tossed a T-shirt at Diana and headed toward the register.

  Diana held it up. “ ‘I heart NY’?”

  “I love New York.”

  “That much is apparent.”

  “No, the shirt is for you.”

  “It’s a very strong statement. The city is enticing, no doubt, but—”

  “It’s so idiots will stop staring at your boobs,” Alia said loudly as a couple of boys who couldn’t be more than thirteen craned their necks over the aisle.

  “Y
ou wish me to cover myself?”

  “I’m not going all puritan on you, but you’re the one who said we should avoid attracting attention. No one seems to be able to resist the magical combination of cleavage, leather, lots of bronze skin, and bed head.”

  “Bed head?”

  “It means— Oh, never mind. Let’s just say you look like some nerdy wet dream.”

  Diana glanced at the boys who hadn’t stopped gawking. “Surely they’ve seen breasts before.”

  “On a real live girl? Who knows? But the novelty never seems to wear off.” Alia tossed two pairs of sweats and another T-shirt into the basket. Sweatpants during a New York summer made her skin crawl, but they were low on options.

  “More clothes?”

  “Trust me, if you really want my help getting us to Greece, I’m going to need better clothes than these.”

  “Why?”

  “You can get away with…” Alia waved vaguely at Diana’s ensemble. “Whatever this is. But I can’t walk around looking like a tennis-playing hobo.”

  “Why?”

  Alia bristled. “Because people see different things when they look at me.”

  “Because you’re so short?”

  “I’m not short! You’re just a giant. And, no, because I’m black.” She tried to keep her voice light. She didn’t want to talk about this stuff. It was bad enough when one of her teachers thought they should have “a forum on race” and she had to deal with a bunch of Bennett kids debating affirmative action, or worse, coming up to her to apologize after class.

  Diana frowned as Alia walked them to the register. “I’ve read about the racial conflicts in your country’s history. I was given to understand they’d ended.”

  That was what her father had wanted to believe, too. But he’d never had to live in his wife’s skin, or his daughter’s, or his son’s.

  “They haven’t. They happen every day. And if you don’t believe me, check the security guard breathing down our necks. When people look at me, they don’t see Alia Keralis. They just see a messed-up brown girl in ratty clothes, so let’s get out of here before he comes by with a ‘How you ladies doing today? Mind opening up that bag for me?’ ”

  They plunked their items down at the register.

  “You doing cosplay or something?” the girl behind the counter asked, cracking her gum. “You a warrior princess?”

  Diana flinched. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You look good,” said the clerk. “I don’t like that fantasy stuff, though.”

  “How about when you can’t tell the difference?” Alia muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Just been a long day.”

  Once they had paid with a few bills from Alia’s giant wad of cash and the security guard had stopped giving them the fisheye, Alia slipped the new flip-flops onto her feet, gratified by their loud slap on the linoleum.

  Laden with plastic bags, they headed outside and crossed the little park. Then Alia pointed them toward Alphabet City and the Good Night hotel. She knew there must be hostels or hotels that were closer, but she didn’t have her phone, and she didn’t want to wander the streets asking for directions. That voice inside her telling her to just go home was getting louder and louder.

  “You’ve stayed here before?” asked Diana doubtfully when they arrived in front of the hotel’s grubby facade.

  “No,” Alia admitted. “But my mom and I used to pass by this place all the time.”

  They were some of her happiest memories, sitting with her mother in Ebele’s salon on Avenue C, reading or just listening to the ladies talk, watching hour after hour of true-crime shows. After her parents had died, Alia hadn’t been able to bear the idea of returning to the little salon without her mother, but eventually her hair was in such a state that she’d had to. It was that or go somewhere new, and Alia wasn’t big on “somewhere new.”

  She hadn’t talked to Jason about it. She’d just asked their driver, Dez, if he knew where to go, and he’d taken her to Ebele’s without a word. Alia thought she was ready to walk through that familiar door, and she’d been fine when she saw its cheerfully painted awning, even when she glimpsed Ebele through the window. But when she’d walked inside and that bell had jingled, the smell of sweetness and chemicals had just about knocked her down. She was crying before she knew it, and Ebele and Norah were hugging her tight and handing her tissues.

  They hadn’t fussed or asked questions Alia didn’t want to answer. They hadn’t spouted useless crap like “everything happens for a reason.” They’d just turned on the TV, plopped her in a chair, and set to work as if nothing terrible had ever happened, as if Alia’s life hadn’t been torn in two. Ebele’s had become a kind of refuge. In fact, Alia had been there less than two weeks ago, getting her hair braided before the trip. They’d watched a billion episodes of Justice Served because Norah was on a serial-killer kick, and by the time Alia left, her scalp felt as if it had been winched tight to her skull.

  Alia had passed beneath the sign of the Good Night with its sleeping moon as she always had, made a wish as she always had, her mind trained only on preparing for her trip aboard the Thetis and escaping New York. Now she looked up at that sign and scowled. “Stupid moon.”

  The hotel was just as miserable on the inside, the lobby walls water stained, the linoleum chipped in places.

  The guy slouching at the front desk didn’t look much older than Alia, and he had one of those chin-burp goatees that always made her want to offer up a napkin. This was the part Alia had been the most nervous about, but she did her best to sound calm and beleaguered as she explained that they’d had their luggage stolen at Port Authority.

  “I don’t know,” he said in a heavy accent. Russian maybe. Definitely Eastern European. “Lots of bad stuff happening. Must be careful.”

  “Come on,” Alia said, attempting some measure of the easy charm her father had possessed in such abundance. “Do we look like trouble?”

  The guy looked up, up, up at Diana.

  “Nie ne sme zaplaha,” she said, looking solemn.

  Alia stared. Diana spoke Russian?

  The man’s flat expression didn’t change. “Cash,” he said. “A full week. Up front.”

  A full week? Even at a dump like the Good Night, that cut deeply into their funds. It’s fine, she told herself as she counted out the bills. You’ll figure out a safe way to contact Jason, and then money isn’t going to be an issue.

  And what if you didn’t have the Keralis name and fortune to back you up? She’d save that question for another day.

  “Rooms are cleaned every afternoon,” said the clerk as the money vanished beneath the desk. “No cooking in rooms. No tampering with thermostat.” He slapped a metal key on the counter. It had a pink plastic tag with “406” written on it in black marker. “You lose key, pay one-hundred-dollar fine.” He narrowed his eyes at Diana. “I watch you.”

  “Geez,” Alia said as they headed up the stairs. “What did you say to him?”

  “I simply told him we weren’t threats.”

  Alia rolled her eyes. “Not suspicious at all. How did you learn to speak Russian?”

  “It was Bulgarian, and…I’m not entirely sure.”

  “How many other languages do you speak?”

  Diana paused as if calculating. “I think all of them.”

  A day ago, Alia would have said that was impossible, but now it was just one more weird thing to add to the list. “Where were you when I had two hours of French homework?” she grumbled.

  Naturally, the Good Night didn’t have an elevator, so they trudged up four flights to their floor. Well, Alia trudged. Diana scampered up the stairs like the world’s most beautiful goat. They followed a long, dank hall to their room, but the old-fashioned lock beneath the doorknob didn’t want to cooperate at first.

  After a few minutes of swearing and key jiggling, the door popped open. The room smelled of old cigarettes and was carpeted in a color that might have starte
d life as emerald but had faded to what Alia would have described as “Summer Swamp.” A cramped passage led past a tiny bathroom tiled in grubby white to a room with a low ceiling and two narrow beds, a battered nightstand between them. No phone, no television, just a radiator against the wall and an air conditioner in the window. Alia set her bags down and pressed one of the buttons. Nothing.

  “Don’t tamper with the thermostat, my butt.” She was already sweating.

  Diana stood in the center of the room, arms still laden with plastic bags. “Do you really live in such places? No view of the sky? So little light and color?”

  “Well, yeah,” Alia said, feeling defensive, despite the fact that she’d been composing a list of the room’s shortcomings herself. “Some people have to.”

  Diana placed her cargo carefully on the bed. “This must be why everyone looks so tired. You travel in tubes underground, live crammed into warrens not fit for rabbits.”

  “We manage,” Alia said, extracting the clean clothes and toiletries they’d purchased.

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” Diana said. “It looks mostly tidy.”

  “Hmm,” Alia said, and left it at that. She could defend New York all day, but one of the unhappy perks of loving biology was knowing exactly how resilient germs were and exactly where vermin liked to hide. They’d both probably end up crawling with bedbugs. “Let’s shower and then find something to eat.”

  “I’m not sure it’s safe for you to go back out.”

  Alia popped open the bag of Doritos. “You saw how crowded this city is. We’ll be fine. And if anyone is looking for Alia Keralis, they’re not going to start here.” She crammed a handful of chips into her mouth.

  “I thought we were going to get a proper meal.”

  “Appetizers,” Alia said with her mouth still full. When she managed to swallow, she snatched up the toiletries and clothes. “I’m taking first shower. Don’t, uh…wander off.”

  In the bathroom, Alia spared herself the briefest glance in the mirror as she stripped out of her clothes. One glimpse of her bruises was enough. She shoved her Learning at Sea polo shirt into the trash. She never wanted to look at it again.