Red and Black

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  Where the hell was I?

  I felt my pulse quicken as the remaining clouds drifted from my mind, leaving me with a crystal-clear view of the situation in front of me. Here I was, in a strange place, surrounded by my enemies, without my powers and barely able to move.

  And I had been abducted, again.

  “Let me take her to see Calypso,” Faultline began.

  The woman shook her head vigorously.

  “The Mistress said to put her with the rest of the hostages for now,” she said, voice firm.

  “That’s not a good idea, Susan. They might put together an escape plan.”

  The woman—Susan—paused to snort.

  “I can’t imagine those bickering fools putting together anything resembling a plan. And to think, I voted for Kent!”

  “They might feel more motivated with the Red and Black Woman around.”

  “Does this look like the Red and Black Woman?” She gestured toward me. “I honestly don’t think she’s in much shape to hurt anyone right now.”

  Although they had been delivered kindly, the words hit me like a physical blow. Because I wasn’t Red and Black when I was like this. No, I was just shy, stupid Dawn. And Dawn wasn’t the type of person who could think or fight her way out of a situation like this. No, Susan was right. I wasn’t in much shape to hurt anyone, or do anything, right now.

  To my shame, I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I turned away from Faultline. Susan met my eyes and blinked once.

  “I think you’re scaring her, Faultline,” she said. “Let me take care of her.”

  “But—” I heard him say.

  “This is my job,” Susan said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I can handle it.”

  Faultline hesitated for a moment, which was…weird. He was always so direct and confident when he spoke. For him to appear unsure…

  “Fine,” he said stiffly. “But Calypso wants us to keep her true identity a secret, at least for now.”

  “Oh? Well, if that’s what the Mistress wants…”

  “And be careful. You are our only medical staff, Susan. Take two of the drones.”

  “Seriously, Faultline. If you honestly think that this girl—”

  “I wasn’t talking about the girl,” Faultline replied, his voice low and irritated. “I was talking about that goddamn cop.”

  After exiting the ballroom, we walked down a long, uncarpeted hallway. Well, technically Susan walked. I sat, confined to a wheelchair, walking long distances apparently a new challenge for my body, now slow and stiff. On either side, two of Callie Saunders’s thugs flanked us, casting confused glances in my direction. Did they even know I was Red and Black?

  The hallway led us past a ton of doorways, many of which were missing doors. Inside, most of them were empty, but others had mattresses. Some of those lay in the centers of the rooms and were clearly used, while others were stacked up against the walls in groups, almost like playing cards.

  Mattresses. These were hotel rooms. And that ballroom…Was it possible I was in that big abandoned hotel close to the West River? What was it called again? The Grand Bailey?

  “Now, Dawn…do you mind if I called you Dawn? The Red and Black Woman doesn’t sound right.”

  I nodded. Of course, it didn’t sound right. Red and Black, or any variation, wasn’t my official Actual name, after all. It was just something they called me on the news. Would I live long enough to learn about the identity that Hunter Davies had intended for me?

  “Well, Dawn, I can tell that you’re feeling pretty shook up by all this, but I want you to know that everything is going to be just fine.”

  I frowned, glancing back and forth between our two guards. That didn’t look fine.

  “Three months ago…well, I was feeling pretty shook up too when the Mistress first found me, both physically and spiritually. I had lost my faith, both in humanity and God above. And then…”

  Susan paused, then let out a long sigh.

  “Then she was there. For the first time in my life, I felt true purpose. Holes I didn’t know even existed had been filled. Faith had been such a one-sided affair by comparison, filled with uncertainty. But now, I knew…I know…”

  She paused to kneel next to my chair, then delivered a comforting smile.

  “I can tell, child. Tell that you have holes in your life, too. Holes that need filling.” She reached out and rested her hands against each side of my face. “And I can tell that you are just as afraid as I once was. But you don’t need to be. Because once you meet the Mistress, all those holes, all the fear and pain…over time it just fades away. Until only one thing is left.”

  As she spoke, her gaze intensified. And at that moment, I didn’t see the kind woman in the hospital scrubs who efficiently shooed off Faultline. There was a strange glint there, an intensity. I wanted nothing more than to look away. Only I couldn’t. Her hands…they were suddenly too strong, forcing me to look at her, at the madness that lay behind her eyes.

  How many of Callie’s followers were like this? What had Faultline called them? Drones? It was a good comparison. I still didn’t know how her abilities worked, but it was clear that this strong loyalty they felt for Callie controlled them completely.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I looked up at the sound of a sharp, familiar voice. At the end of the hallway stood an open door guarded by another pair of Callie Saunders’s drones. One of the guards had reached across the open door, blocking the person who stood on the other side.

  “This…this is ridiculous. This girl clearly needs medical attention.” Amanda Bronson’s voice was sharp, authoritative.

  “Which I have provided,” Susan replied, hesitating for only a second. “The Mistress wants—”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about what your precious Mistress wants. This girl needs to go to the hospital, right now.”

  Wow. Weeks ago, when Amanda Bronson had come to my door, I had despised her. But now, watching her standing there, her right arm in a sling, bruises on her face, talking as if she owned the place…it cut through the hopelessness of the situation. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

  “Get out of the way, you dumb bitch,” the man holding the detective back said. He reached out and shoved her, clearly targeting the shoulder in the sling. The detective’s face went white as a sheet as she teetered backwards. I wasn’t the only one dealing with an injury.

  “There no need for that, Frank,” Susan said firmly. “Now if you’d let me by, we have one more hostage.”

  Not waiting for his response, Susan pushed the chair toward the doorway. Frank hesitated for a moment, looking down at me with a frown before backing up a step.

  “Don’t you try anything,” he said, scowling at Amanda.

  The detective rolled her eyes and stepped aside, allowing Susan to push me into the room.

  “There you go, dear. We’ll let you know when we need you.”

  Susan patted me on the shoulder in a comforting way, but I still felt my skin prickle with fear. What they hell did they need me for? Frank the guard shut the door behind us. The sudden slam made me jump.

  “Psychos,” Amanda Bronson muttered under her breath. “You were right about the mind control thing. This isn’t natural.”

  Crap. What did she mean by “you were right?”

  She paused and leaned over me, her voice dropping.

  “Can you…you know…change back? Bailey’s rich and famous are just a room away. If we can figure out a plan…”

  Shit.

  “I, uh…don’t know what you’re talking about?” I winced as the lie hung in the air awkwardly.

  The detective let out a sigh, raising a hand in the classic facepalm pose—using her uninjured side, of course.

  “Don’t play this game, Dawn,” she said. “I know you’re the same Red and Black Woman who’s been jumping around the city for the past couple of months.”

  “What! No. I—”

  “There
were security cameras at the top of the parking garage at the Commerce Center. On the lights. They picked up your landing.”

  “Oh.”

  Why hadn’t I thought about that? I was normally so conscious about cameras. The one time I forgot…

  Amanda let out a sigh and took a step back until she was leaning on a dresser that was missing multiple drawers. Now that I had a moment, I took a look at our surroundings. It was a pretty typical hotel setup, or at least the start of one. Two queen-sized mattresses took up much of the room. The hookup for a flat screen could be found on the wall across. Near the entryway was a small bathroom, and across from that was a door. Looked like this was part of a suite. I could hear muffled voices on the other side. Were those the other hostages?

  “So…can you transform back?”

  I looked down at my hands, folded on my lap, then let one word escape my lips.

  “No.”

  “Dammit,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “So what is this? You’re out of juice or something?”

  “Yeah.” I paused to wet my lips. “I think it was the healing…if I use up too much of it, I kind of lock myself out. At least until I recharge again.”

  “And how long does that take?”

  “I’m…not sure. I slept through most of the recovery process last time. Hours, I suspect.”

  “Shit.”

  The detective moved as if to fold her arms across her chest, then stopped, wincing in pain.

  “Did…are you hurt?” I asked.

  “Dislocated shoulder,” she replied, then gave a wry smile. “Apparently, it was not a two-woman job.”

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled back, albeit weakly.

  “Now,” Amanda said. “Since plan A is out, I need you to fill me in on this Mistress woman. At the benefit, you indicated that you knew more?”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. I filled her in on everything—from my first encounter with Dana, to the incident at the Commerce Center, to breaking into Arthur Hamilton’s house and finding the discs. I shared my own theories about Callie’s mind control and her desire for revenge. And it felt…well, it felt good to focus on something different than our current predicament. The crippling terror remained, but it had been pushed down, shoved behind a door in my mind.

  “Huh…and you were able to put all that together based on the information on the discs?” Detective Bronson chuckled. “That’s not bad.”

  “Oh,” I said with a blink. “I mean…I had help with Dana. And the whole thing about the benefit was just a hunch. I mean, I’m not a detective or anything, so—”

  “Don’t do that.” Her voice was sharp.

  “Don’t…what?”

  “Refuse to take a compliment.” She shook her head. “I hate it when women do that. Compliment a man, and he won’t only accept it but double down. Compliment a woman, and her first instinct is to deflect.” She paused and gave me a hard look. “You did a good job piecing things together with the resources you had available to you. I just wish you had come to me with them.”

  “I…didn’t know if you were under Callie Saunders’s control,” I said with a frown.

  “True,” Detective Bronson said, and sighed. “Now we need to figure out a way to get these bozos out of here before…whatever happens, happens. I’ll keep your secret, of course.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a weak smile. “Does this make you my Commissioner Gordon?”

  “Who?”

  “He’s from Batman. And, well—he’s always been one of my favorite characters.”

  “Oh, hell no. I am not playing into your comic book fantasies. I understand the reality of the world we’re living in, that’s all. And I don’t turn away good resources when they’re handed to me.”

  Yep. Totally my Commissioner Gordon.

  “So…does anyone else know, besides you?” I asked.

  “Just a tech, and he’s proven himself to be trustworthy. The security guard at the Commerce Center? He didn’t have time to review the tape.”

  I winced, the memory of the fallen security guard fresh in my mind. Yet another victim of Callie Saunders’s quest for revenge. I paused, frowning.

  “What do you think her plans are?” I asked. “I mean, why keep us cooped up in a hotel room?”

  “When it would be so much easier to kill everyone?” The detective sighed, leaning back again. “Her interest could be exposure. I mean, pretty girls like Callie Saunders don’t just go missing without a peep unless someone is actively covering it up. Maybe she’s looking for confessions.” She shook her head. “Not that kidnapping five people is likely to endear her to the public.”

  “Maybe she wants to use her powers on them?”

  “I’ve considered that, too. Unfortunately, we still don’t know how her powers work. I mean, if she can control a person’s mind, why not just draw in her victims that way? It’s a hell of a lot simpler than an elaborate kidnapping plot at one of Bailey City’s biggest social events.”

  “Well that wouldn’t be as…theatrical.”

  “The big, flashy plans aren’t always the best choices in real life. There has to be a reason why she did it this way.”

  “I guess.”

  “There’s more going on with this woman than we realize.” The detective reached up and tapped the side of her head. “We have some of the pieces, but there are clearly ones left out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, what about this Amity figure, the one with the power to erase memories?”

  “Oh, well, she’s definitely still involved. One of Callie’s men at the benefit all but admitted it to me.”

  “That he did. Which got me thinking—”

  The detective paused at the sound of a sharp knock. I felt my entire body tense, then realized it hadn’t come from the hallway, but the inner door. The detective frowned and turned toward the door. She reached out and yanked it open.

  “I told you to give me some—” the detective began, but was immediately cut off.

  “Save me!”

  I blinked and looked around her to see Dana Peterson standing in the doorway. His jacket and tie had been discarded, his shirt untucked. His hair stuck up as if he had been running his hands through it, often.

  “Seriously, Amanda,” he began. “I’m sorry, but you have no idea what’s going on in—”

  “Did she deliver our list of demands?”

  Dana was cut off by a loud, booming voice. Before I could piece together who it was, a tall, a middle-aged white man sporting the Mr. Fantastic white-at-the-temples look had pushed the IT guy forward and into our room.

  “Detective,” he barked out. “What’s the situation? Were you able to—”

  “Mr. Kent.” Amanda raised her voice. “We have another hostage.”

  “Oh?” Edison Kent paused to look me up and down. “Well, what good does that do? We still don’t know what the situation is. I need to speak to the man in charge.”

  “Woman.” Amanda took a step forward. “A woman by the name of Callie Saunders. A woman who apparently was a volunteer for your last failed mayoral campaign. Does the name Callie Saunders ring a bell?”

  “I can’t be expected to remember every college student who ever worked for me!”

  “Have they said anything about ransom?” a new voice piped up. “They would need to contact my niece! She’s my closest relative.”

  A familiar woman in a cocktail dress, a cat mask tangled in her frizzy hair, peered out from behind Edison Kent.

  “And if they can’t find her,” Dr. Bouchard continued, “then they might want to try looking for—”

  “You know, I thought with a police officer on our side that we would be able to take care of this situation more efficiently.” Mr. Kent’s voice was a growl. “But now I know—”

  “Yes, yes, you’re disappointed in all of us.” Dana rolled his eyes. “But if you’re going to continue this screaming match, let me at least get the traumatized kid out of the middle of it.”

>   The former mayor opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Dana had crossed the small space between us, grabbed the back of my wheelchair, and pushed me forward. Kent sputtered in disgust but stepped out of the way. Dana shut the door behind him, leaving the detective to the former mayor’s wrath.

  “Sorry about that,” Dana said, letting out a sigh. “But I needed an excuse to get out of there.”

  “Oh dear. Oh dear,” Dr. Bouchard said, burying her face in her faux fur stole. I couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t look nearly as white as it had during the benefit.

  I took a second to examine my new surroundings. The room was probably meant to be a living space that connected the bedrooms of the suite. I could even see where a seating area and television were likely to be set up in the middle. In the front was an unfinished kitchenette with an island, the cabinets empty, gaping holes. It was here that Johanna St. Pierre remained on the one stool in the breakfast nook, perched upon it as if it were a throne.

  “That won’t keep him for long, you know,” she said coolly.

  “I had a feeling.” Dana sighed. “Did he find a minibar in here or something?”

  The hospital CEO snorted before speaking. “Alcohol was never Edison’s real problem, only the excuse. Edison is Edison’s problem.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Oh! Is that Karou’s little girl?” Sylvie said. “But why the wheelchair? Why weren’t you knocked out like the rest of us?”

  “I uh…tried to run?” I replied.

  “Don’t blame you,” Dana said, running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry you had to get dragged into this, too.”