Heroine's Journey

by Sarah Kuhn

  On the plus side, no new locations had been weaponized. So yay for that.

  But I was starting to feel a little desperate, so I brought two potentially exciting projects with me to my shift at It’s Lit. First, I’d convinced Nate to let me borrow the parchment we’d discovered in Kathy’s blue cabinet, the one with the mysterious runes. None of his demonologist pals had been able to make heads or tails of it, but I thought maybe the combined brain power of me, Leah, and Sam would be able to crack it. And then, because that just wasn’t enough, I’d also brought Rose’s demon trap to tinker with—the one Sam and I had, um, been distracted from.

  “I dunno, Bebe,” Leah said, shaking her head. We were crowded around the register area with Sam. Pancake was sacked out on his special pillow, snoring loudly enough to be a distraction. His back left foot was raised in the air, like he was hoping someone would be kind enough to give him belly rubs while he slept. “We’ve been staring at this for an hour, and we still don’t even know where to start.”

  “Dangit, I thought you’d be our secret weapon,” I said, elbowing her. “I mean, the extremely intricate made-up dragon language is one of your most treasured parts of our favorite dragon-shifter lady book.”

  “I know,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. “And I’m fluent in Klingon and Dothraki, too. Made-up languages are one of my jams. But this . . .” She pointed to the parchment. “I can’t find, like, a root. A place to start. Most languages have a key that will at least begin to unravel them, but this one . . .” She trailed off again, then looked up from the parchment. And her eyes immediately narrowed.

  “Gak,” she said, making a face at Sam and me. “You guys are . . .” She waved her hand at us.

  “What?” Sam said. I realized that he’d wrapped an arm loosely around my waist, pulling me against him.

  “I could take the ridiculousness,” Leah said. “But now you’re being casually affectionate. Like . . . love-y.”

  “Excuse me!” I yelped, just as Sam said, “We are not.”

  Leah rolled her eyes and looked like she wanted to say more, but Nemesis Nicole chose that moment to wander in.

  “Hey,” she said, approaching the counter.

  “What, no empty coffee cup?” I said.

  “No.” She cocked her head at me. Hmm. She looked strangely listless today. I mean, she was never the most exciting person to be around, but there was usually a spark of fire behind that beige suit. And her hair part, always so perfect, was crooked.

  “What’s up with you?” I blurted out.

  “Why do you care?” she said, instantly suspicious.

  “I don’t,” I retorted. “But you approached the counter. So I assume you want something.”

  “I . . .” She frowned, her expression going a bit unsure. Her eyes wandered to the parchment, now lying next to Pancake’s snoring form. “What’s this?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Top secret superhero business you’re not supposed to look at. It’s classified.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Because I still haven’t seen a single mention of you on Maisy’s blog, Bea. So I don’t know why you expect me to believe—”

  “There’s a reason for that,” I said, my face getting hot. “One of my very important superheroing mentors is trying to protect me—”

  “Anyway,” she interrupted. “I was just going to ask: why are you reading it sideways?”

  “Wait, what?” Leah said, her eyes going wide.

  Nicole reached over and rotated the parchment ninety degrees. And Leah’s eyes went even wider.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Of course. We assumed we were supposed to read this page vertically. But it’s actually horizontal.”

  “Yeah,” Nicole said, tapping the parchment. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it, Leah. It looks like it has a similar root to the dragon language in that dragon-shifter lady book you recommended to me. Which I read in one night, by the way.”

  “Um, what?!” I exclaimed, my eyes going from Leah to Nicole and back again. “You recommended our book? To her?”

  “Bebe,” Leah said, her eyes glued to the parchment. “I think I’ve got this. Can you just give me some silence for a minute?”

  “And since when do you recommend books to her?” I pressed. “Since when do you guys talk in a friendly manner at all?”

  “Come on, Bea,” Sam said, patting my shoulder. “Let’s go work on the trap.”

  “Fiiiiiiiine,” I spat out, stomping toward the back room.

  “You’re welcome!” Nicole called after me, her tone smug.

  I pushed Sam into the back room and slammed the door behind us.

  “Can you believe that?” I raged. “Can. You. Believe. That. How could she—”

  “Leah or Nicole?” he said.

  “Nicole, of course,” I sputtered. “Leah and I hate her, she’s always so rude. And she totally used to make fun of me for reading that book and now suddenly she loves it?! I . . . she . . .” I huffed over to the work table containing the disassembled pieces of the trap. My face was on fire, and the anger that had overtaken me so quickly pulsed through my bloodstream, hot and irrational.

  “Bea.” He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, brushing his lips against the top of my head. “Leah isn’t going to abandon you,” he murmured against my hair.

  “What?!” I pulled out of his embrace and turned to face him. “Were you even listening? That’s not what I—”

  “Yes, it is.” He tapped my forehead. “You’ve got your forehead crinkle.” I batted his hand away. “What you were actually saying, underneath all that rage, is that you’re scared Leah’s going to decide she likes Nicole way more than you and replace you as her best friend.”

  I sucked in a long breath, then slumped against the work table, sulking. “Why would I think that? I mean, that’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s ridiculous because Leah would never do that,” he said, his voice gentle. “But it’s not ridiculous for you to go there. Because . . .” He trailed off and met my eyes. His gaze was so tender, I had to look away.

  “Because so many people have left me,” I finally said, toying with the ends of my hair. “My mom, my dad. Nemesis Nicole, way back when. Even Evie seems to have given up on me.”

  “I’ll never give up on you.” He leaned against the work table and reached over to take my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Promise.”

  “But what if you stop having fun first?” I blurted out.

  He shook his head. “What?”

  “You know, in this little fun-having . . . thing we’re doing,” I said, my face flushing. “One person always stops having fun first. What if it’s you?”

  I didn’t know why I was lashing out at him. Maybe because some residual traces of that anger were still pulsing through me. Maybe because he’d hit so precisely on one of my central issues.

  Or maybe because ever since I’d cried on him and blabbed all my Mom feelings a few nights before, I’d felt more sensitive around him, more exposed—he’d seen me naked in more ways than one.

  “Bea—”

  “You have all your rules,” I barreled on. “About no second dates and not leaving clothes behind. And now that we’re apparently being all casually affectionate—”

  “Beatrice.” He gave me an exasperated look. But didn’t stop holding my hand, I noticed. “I have those rules because . . .” He hesitated, then shook his head, like he was giving up. “Well, because having rules is easier than finding out that once the novelty of getting to touch the abs from the calendar wears off, there’s not much else of interest.”

  I goggled at him. “What?”

  “Look. Women like sleeping with me. Most of them would be more than happy to sleep with me more than once.” He gave me a light version of his
beaucoup fromage grin. “But the truth is, once they get to know me even a little bit, they realize I’m not the muscles from the calendar, or the hot mechanic who likes to take his shirt off for no reason—I’m not the guy they’ve projected all their fantasies onto. And that means they’re not really interested in spending time with me, unless we’re spending that time in bed.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re just like . . . a disposable piece of meat to them?”

  “Thank you for making me sound like the blue plate special at Mel’s Diner,” he said, chuckling a little.

  I studied him. He was trying to laugh it off, but there was that streak of vulnerability underneath. I could tell it really bothered him. He couched his himbo tendencies in a careless player lifestyle, but could it be because people refused to see him any other way? “Well,” I finally said. “I already know you. And I already like you. So there.”

  He grinned. “I already know you and like you, too.”

  I rested my head against his shoulder. Our fingers were still interlaced, our palms pressed together. The warmth of his body next to mine soothed me, draining the last of my anger over the whole Leah/Nemesis Nicole situation.

  “I trust us to stop having fun at the exact same time,” he said. “If anyone can do it, we can.”

  I laughed, but something about that stirred uncertainty in my gut, made my skin prickle.

  “We keep getting distracted from actually working on the trap,” he said, making his tone light. “Is Rose going to kill us?”

  “That would be way against her entire personality,” I murmured.

  “Guys!” Leah burst in, then stopped abruptly, frowning when she saw Sam and me all cuddled up. Something passed over her face, like she was having some sort of realization. But it was gone so fast, I thought maybe I’d imagined it.

  “Sorry,” I said, raising my head from his shoulder and releasing Sam’s hand. “I should have put a Casual Affection Alert sign on the door.”

  “I think I’ve decoded this.” She brandished the parchment, then held up another piece of paper with her swoopy handwriting all over it. “Or sort of decoded it.”

  “Holy shit, you’re a genius,” I said. “Demonologists have got nothing on hardcore dragon-shifter lady book enthusiasts.”

  “It’s, like, a plea,” Leah said, waving the paper around. “From a daughter to a mother. The daughter is about to embark on a big adventure that will take her far from home. Her mother is against it, and the daughter is trying to explain all the reasons she absolutely needs to go.”

  “We’re sure this is demon language from the Otherworld?” Sam said. “Because that sounds like a very human story.”

  “Some stories are universal,” I said, thinking of all the times I’d begged Evie to just let me be a grown-up.

  “This demon girl talks at length about how all her powers will protect her in the ‘alien realm of the humans,’” Leah said.

  “So she was coming here?” I frowned, considering that piece of info, an idea sparking in my brain. “Oh, shit. Was she one of Shasta’s raiding party—the humanoid demons who came through the original portal?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking!” Leah said, stabbing an index finger in the air. “And there’s something else. Bebe . . . one of the powers she describes having: ‘great influence on the minds of others,’ being able to reach out with her brain and ‘gift’ people with the feelings she wants them to have—”

  “Oh, double shit,” I said, my eyes widening. “I got her power when she died!”

  “Yes!” Leah said, nodding vigorously. “So why the hell did Kathy Kooper have this in her possession?”

  “And how?” Sam said. “Is it a souvenir of one of her trips to the Otherworld, or what?”

  Trying to make sense of it all, I stared at the parchment Leah was still holding. I’d hoped to end the day feeling like I’d made progress on multiple projects that would also somehow contribute to my overall quest to save Mom.

  Instead, all I had were more questions, I wasn’t sure where to go next, and I was still banned from superheroing for the foreseeable future.

  If I were one for giving up, now probably would have been the time to do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I AM, OF course, not one for giving up, so I kept on my quest as best I could. I shared with Nate what Leah had discovered about the demon daughter’s note. He was super excited that Leah had actually decoded some of the mysterious demon language, even though the note didn’t lead us in any new directions as far as finding Mom. And the weaponized locations seemed determined to remain frustratingly mundane. No more mecha carnival rides chasing people.

  Evie and I were still icing each other out, so for the next week, I found myself spending more and more time away from HQ. I threw myself into helping Leah plan the Art Jam, which now appeared to be reverting back to its original purpose of simply being a fun event at the store. I wasn’t holding out much hope that Poet was actually going to show up—why go to an Art Jam when you can chill in the Otherworld? And I spent almost every night at Sam’s place. We ate delicious food, we played with the inner workings of the trap, and we continued to have the best sex I’d ever had in my life. It was like a tiny pocket universe of fun, and escaping into it kept me from dwelling on things with Evie or obsessing over why Mom wasn’t communicating with me.

  Leah joined us for dinner a couple times, but usually had something else to do, often involving her mom and the lizards. I always asked if she wanted me to come help her, but she always said no. I wondered if Leah was making up some of these other commitments, if she felt excluded from our little pocket universe. Ever since Sam and I had added benefits to our friendship, it seemed to have created an odd imbalance in the group, and I was eager to correct it. I redoubled my efforts to find her a love match, but she always brushed me off.

  “Come on,” I said, as yet another prospect headed out the door of It’s Lit. “He was totally cute. And I only mind-mojo-ed him a little, I’m pretty sure he was already checking you out. You could have at least invited him to stay for Art Jam.” The Jam was that evening, and Leah and I were in the midst of decorating. Pancake was supposed to be “helping,” but was mostly just running around getting underfoot and fucking up the giant swaths of butcher paper we’d laid out on the floor.

  “Bebe,” Leah said, shaking her head. “Stop. How many times do I have to say, I do not want to be set up by you.”

  “Why not?” I said, a whiny thread creeping into my voice. I arranged canisters of markers, paintbrushes, and other arting implements on a table. Then I added a few unicorns from Charlotte’s collection to my display, so it looked like the unicorn posse was watching over the art supplies. “Is my taste that bad? Or off? Describe to me your perfect person in detail. Give me something to work with.”

  Leah shook her head, setting out a bunch of crafting supplies on another table. “I . . .” She blew out a long breath, turned, and studied me, as if sizing me up. “I’m going to tell you something,” she said. “And I need you to not act a fool about it.”

  Pancake chose that moment to throw himself on top of my foot, whining for attention like he was being murdered. I scooped him up in my arms.

  “Of course,” I said, stroking Pancake’s ears. “You can tell me anything, Lee.”

  She took a deep breath. “I—”

  “Hey.” Of course Nemesis Nicole chose that moment to waltz up, book clutched to her chest. “I was wondering—”

  “We’re having an important, work-related conversation,” I snitted at her. “Your coffee refills and other annoying demands will have to wait.”

  She blinked at me, her gaze sliding from me to Leah and back again. “Oh, uh . . .”

  “It’s all right,” Leah said, stepping forward to take the books from her. “You’re looking for the next one in this series, right?”

 
“Yeah.” Nicole gave her a tentative smile. “You were right, the chemistry between the two fairy queens was off the charts. And the banter—”

  “The banter,” Leah said, clapping a hand to her chest and pretending to swoon. “What did I tell you? I die.”

  Um. What the fresh hell was going on here? Leah was still recommending books to her? My head swiveled back and forth between them, like I was watching a really intense tennis match. And I could swear Pancake’s head was doing the same.

  “Why don’t you go hang out in the café while I find it for you?” Leah said.

  “Great.” Nicole’s smile widened, and she reached up and absently tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thank you. And thank you for loaning those to me, I promise to keep them in totally pristine condition.” She turned back to me, gave Pancake a little pat on the head, and then headed for the café.

  “Uhhhh,” was all I could say. Pancake looked slightly offended at my inability to articulate more than that.

  Leah ignored me and started walking toward Paranormal Romance.

  “Excuse me,” I said, following her. Pancake squirmed in my arms, but I didn’t put him down. “Nicole just tucked her hair behind her ear. Tucking her hair behind her ear is her tell for when she likes someone. It’s been her tell since we were twelve. Was that . . . Are you . . . Is the thing you wanted to tell me about you and Nicole?”

  Leah slid the book back on the shelf, pulled out the one next to it, and turned back to me. “And what if it is?”

  “I . . . we . . . we hate her,” I hissed, pulling Pancake tight against my chest. He gave a little snort of indignation. “I’ve told you how awful she was to me. She’s awful to us now. She sits in that café, she never buys any books, she acts like we’re her freaking servants—”