Rascal immediately stopped his relentless bounding and gave me an apologetic look. Corgis were an intelligent breed, but it already seemed like the euphoridon had made him smarter than most dogs.
I loved Rascal, but I couldn’t help but sigh all the same. Because even the puppy had superpowers, and I had nothing but a broken heart.
Across the street, a door opened on the very nice brownstone that took up that block, and a man wearing thick gray coveralls and silver glasses stepped outside. Rascal barked and strained in that direction, pulling me along, despite his small size, so I gave in and crossed the street, following the puppy’s lead.
“Hey, Jasper,” I called out.
“Hey, Piper.”
He waved me over, and I climbed to the top of the brownstone’s steps. Rascal barked and started licking Jasper’s boots the same way he had mine. Jasper grinned, squatted down, and rubbed the puppy’s oversize ears. Rascal grunted with happiness, then flopped down and rolled over, so that Jasper could rub his white belly too.
“Where’s Abby?” Jasper asked.
“She’s on vacation with Wesley this week, so I’m watching Rascal for them.”
Jasper nodded. “Good for them for getting away from the city for a while.”
He petted Rascal for another minute before getting to his feet. Jasper tipped his head back and drew in a deep breath of air.
He noticed me watching him and shrugged. “It can get a little stuffy inside sometimes.”
“Oh,” I said in a bright voice. “Have you been down in your workshop? Are you testing out a new explosive? Something more powerful than explodium?”
Jasper was Bigtime’s resident bomb expert. If you wanted to blow something up in loud, spectacular fashion, then Jasper was the guy you called. Even superheroes like Karma Girl and Fiera used his products from time to time, when they needed a little more firepower or wanted a particularly big BOOM.
Jasper peered at me through his glasses, then tilted his head to the side, making the small diamond stud twinkle in his ear. “And why would you think something like that?”
Too late I realized that I wasn’t supposed to know what Jasper did in his spare time any more than I was supposed to know Wynter’s real identity. Normally, I would have done the same oops-my-mistake song and dance that I’d done with Wynter earlier tonight, made some lame excuse, and hurried off. But it was late, and I was tired, especially of pretending that I didn’t know who was really who in this city.
I laughed. “Jasper, everyone knows about the crazy things you cook up in your brownstone basement. It’s, like, the worst-kept secret in all of Bigtime.”
He stared at me, his lips pinching together in displeasure.
But it was too late to pretend ignorance now, so I kept on charging straight ahead. “And I’ve heard certain people talk about you and all the bombs you supply to the Fearless Five and other heroes.”
Fiona Fine and Lulu Lo had had a rather interesting discussion about him just last week, when Lulu had come by the Fiona Fine Fashions office to update our computers and networks. Apparently, Fiona was finishing up some clothes she’d promised to design for Jasper in payment for several bombs that he’d supplied to her when she’d gone up against Siren and Intelligal last year.
His pale violet eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What people?”
Telling him about Fiona would blow her cover as Fiera, so I shrugged. “Just people. Nobody in particular. You know how it is.”
Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, and it suddenly occurred to me that chatting him up about his highly illegal bomb-making business wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do. Sometimes, my inner fandemic got the best of me in situations like this. Okay, okay, so in most situations, actually.
“But don’t worry. I think that it’s supercool that you help out all the heroes. I’m not going to tell anyone about you. I promise.” I crossed my finger over my heart, making the proverbial X.
Jasper’s lips flattened into a thin line. He petted Rascal again, then gave me a curt nod and disappeared back inside his brownstone. I winced at the loud bang of the door slamming shut behind him and several locks click-click-clicking home one after another. I’d definitely worn out my welcome here. Piper Perez strikes again.
Rascal whined, wondering why Jasper had gone back inside. I sighed and gently tugged on his leash.
“Come on, boy,” I said. “Let’s go home before my big mouth gets us into any more trouble tonight.”
* * *
I led Rascal down the brownstone steps and back out onto the sidewalk, where the puppy finally did his business for the night. It was getting colder, and the snow was falling faster by the minute, so I picked him up and hurried toward my own apartment building.
Rascal let me carry him for three whole blocks before he started squirming. The puppy was heavier than he looked, so I put him down, making sure to keep a firm grip on his leash. Abby would never forgive me if I let anything happen to him, and it would be just my luck to put us both in mortal danger, simply by strolling down the sidewalk and having a subway grate suddenly collapse beneath my feet for no apparent reason, other than my bad karma.
The snow kept falling, and what little traffic there was on the streets died down, until Rascal and I were the only ones outside. Looked like all the heroes and villains had taken the night off for Valentine’s Day, just like everyone else. I snorted. Well, I hoped everyone had more luck with their love life tonight than I’d had with mine these past few months.
Rascal and I crossed the street and stepped onto the block that housed Fiona Fine Fashions. The giant marble F that marked the entrance to the store was outlined in neon lights that glowed orange-red, just like Fiona did whenever she used her fire powers as Fiera. Normally, I would have stopped to admire the impressive sign, but I tucked my chin down into the collar of my coat and hurried on.
No cars cruised by on the street outside the FFF shop, but a lone vehicle was sitting at the corner curb—a battered old ice cream truck. Weird. I would think that it would be far too late and cold to sell ice cream tonight. Then again, Fiona had ordered three dozen double-chocolate-chip ice cream cakes from Quicke’s earlier this week, so what did I know? Still, this truck looked more decrepit than most, and I could barely make out the faded blue words on the dull gray paint. Snowdom Ice Cream Factory. Probably a castoff vehicle someone had gotten on the cheap, since the factory had been closed for a long time now.
I walked by the truck and was passing the alley that ran beside the store when Rascal stopped. The puppy froze for a moment, then plopped down on his butt in the snow and started looking around, cocking his head first one way, then the other, as though he were using his oversize ears to hear something that no one else could.
I stopped and listened too, but I didn’t hear anything. Then again, I didn’t have a dog’s ears, much less this superpup’s even sharper ones. “Come on, Rascal. Whatever you hear, it’s too cold to go chasing after it tonight.”
I tugged on his leash, but Rascal was heavier and stronger than he looked because I couldn’t budge him, and I didn’t have the heart to really try. I bent down to scoop him up in my arms again, but he let out a worried bark, then scampered toward the alley entrance with the sudden speed of a rocket. I had no choice but to follow him or get my shoulder dislocated.
Rascal pulled and pulled me along, going deeper and deeper into the alley. I looked left and right, but the only things back here were trash cans filled with colorful scraps of fabric from FFF and garbage from all the other nearby stores.
“See?” I said. “There’s nothing back here.”
But Rascal stuck his black nose down next to the snow-covered asphalt, sniffing and sniffing as if determined to prove me wrong. The end of the alley was bricked up, so I let go of his leash and let him wander off, thinking that maybe he needed to do one final bit of business for the night.
Rascal moved farther back into the alley, and I used the opportunity to pull out my phone and check my
messages. But Wesley really must have gotten Abby to turn off her phone because neither one of them had texted me.
I was about to put my phone away when I noticed the glow from the screen was making something shimmer on the alley floor. I angled the phone in that direction, using it as a flashlight, then bent down so I could get a better look at the shimmering object.
A piece of fabric lay on the asphalt.
Given the snow and shadows, I couldn’t really tell its exact color, but it seemed to be ice-blue, although there was a darker stain around the edges. I frowned and picked up the fabric, staring at the stain.
Was that…blood?
Rascal let out a sharp, worried bark, then another one, then another one. He also started dancing around, almost like there was something back there he wanted me to come see for myself.
I tucked the fabric into my coat pocket, then got to my feet and hurried over to him. “What is it, boy?”
Rascal skipped to the very back of the alley, where there was a gap between one of the Dumpsters and the brick wall.
A man was sitting in the empty space.
The guy was obviously homeless, given the dirt and grime that covered the layers and layers of clothes he wore and the blue toboggan pulled down low on his forehead. Still, despite the dirt, all his garments were high-end and made out of colorful, expensive fabrics, including a royal-blue-plaid coat that Fiona had sewn herself. She’d given it to him two weeks ago, and he’d been wearing it ever since, along with some matching, fingerless gloves.
I relaxed when I spotted the coat because I knew the guy it belonged to—Bustling Blue, a former ubervillain.
Bustling Blue used to be a minor bad guy in Bigtime some twenty years ago, robbing banks and jewelry stores, then using his speed to make a quick getaway before the cops showed up. But he hadn’t been the fastest guy around, certainly not in Swifte’s league, and the police had eventually caught him and sent him to prison for his crimes. He’d done his time, gotten out a couple of years ago, and had been living on the streets ever since. These days, he went by Blue, and he wasn’t a villain anymore, just a guy who’d fallen on hard times and was trying to get by.
I had first met Blue a couple of months ago when I’d been walking back to the office after lunch at Quicke’s. I’d been carrying several bags of takeout food for Fiona, and Blue had been standing at the alley entrance, eyeing the sacks of burgers and fries, hunger shining bright in his eyes. So I’d given him all of Fiona’s lunch that day, then gone back to the restaurant and bought him enough food for several more days as well.
After that, Blue had started hanging around the store, taking out the trash, packing up shipping boxes, and doing other chores for food and money. The two of us had slowly become friends, and I’d even interviewed him as part of my volunteer work with A Bigtime Past, the library’s history project chronicling Bigtime’s older heroes and villains and their impacts on the city. Blue had a lot of fascinating stories to tell, and I’d been happy to listen.
As we’d gotten to know each other, I’d tried to help him every way I could, even suggesting that he check out some of the city’s homeless shelters. But Blue always refused, saying that he’d been taking care of himself all his life and saw no reason to stop now. So Fiona sewed clothes for him, making sure that he had plenty of warm gear for the winter, and I always made a pit stop in the alley on my way back from Quicke’s and dropped off some food for him. Sometimes, I even ate lunch out here with Blue and listened to his stories about all the heroes and villains he’d had run-ins with over the years. Not just because I was recording them for the library but because his tales genuinely interested me. Kyle and Abby were both right. I was definitely a Fandemic with a capital F. Academic and epidemic and obsessive, all at once.
“Hey, Blue,” I called out. “Hope we didn’t disturb you. You know how rambunctious Rascal can be.”
Instead of raising his head and greeting me, Blue remained still and quiet.
Unease twisted my stomach. “Blue? Are you okay?”
Rascal whined, sensing that something was wrong. I put down my purse and the bag full of puppy supplies. Then I crept forward, bent down, and touched Blue’s shoulder.
“Blue?” I asked again, shaking him a little bit. “Are you all right—”
Blue gasped and sucked down a giant gulp of air. He reached out and grabbed hold of my shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into my arm, despite my thick coat. Blue also had a bit of superstrength to go along with his speed.
“Get away from me, you monster!” he yelled. “Get away! Get away! Get away!”
“Blue!” I yelled back, trying to get him to listen to me. “It’s Piper! Just Piper!”
He stared at me, his blue eyes dull and dark, but after a few seconds, he focused on me, and some of his panic and confusion faded away.
“Piper,” he mumbled. “Piper…she’ll know what to do…she’ll know how to stop him…she knows everything about villains…”
“Blue?” I asked again. “Are you okay? What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“Crept back here while I was sleeping…didn’t think that I heard him…that I’d fight back…”
He mumbled a few more words, although I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. His head lolled to the side, and it was my turn to gasp. All these horrible marks ringed Blue’s neck, like someone had stuck a dozen needles into his throat and yanked them right back out again, leaving the skin there red, raw, and puckered. Some sort of thick, dark liquid was also oozing out from underneath his leg. I reached down, stuck my fingers into the liquid, and raised them back up to the dim light filtering in from the street.
Blood glistened on my hand.
“Blue!” I said, scooting even closer to him and trying to see where he might be hurt through all his many layers of clothes. “You’re bleeding!”
He shuddered. “Blood, blood, all my blood. Down, down, down the drain, long gone…”
I pulled out my cell phone and started to call 911, but Blue seemed to realize what I was doing. He focused on me again, his fingers digging even deeper into my shoulder.
“He’s a monster now,” he muttered. “A monster! And he wants to kill us all. I heard him talking into his phone, taking notes about what he was doing to me. What he wants to do to everyone. Wings and snowflakes first…then swords and fire later…”
Blue leaned forward, clutching my coat with both hands. “You have to stop it. You have to stop him,” he said, his voice getting louder and raspier with every word. “Or he’ll rip it out of everyone. Wings and snowflakes…wings and snowflakes…”
He kept babbling that same phrase over and over again, although his voice got weaker and his hands slid free from my coat and dropped to his sides.
This time, I did call 911. I told the operator my situation, and she promised to send help immediately. I put my phone away, then focused on Blue again, patting him down and still trying to find the source of his bleeding.
Something had ripped through his coat and all the layers underneath it, right where his heart was. I peeled the fabric away as best I could, revealing several deep, jagged wounds that were dripping blood, as though Blue had been clawed by a bear or some other animal. A horrified gasp escaped from my lips.
So much blood.
Too much blood.
I ripped off my gloves and pressed them to the wounds, even though I knew how useless it was. And so did Blue.
“It’s too late for that…” he rasped. “He clawed me too bad…”
I didn’t have Abby’s supersenses, but the coppery stink of his blood filled the alley, overpowering the garbage in all the trash cans. Rascal smelled it as well, and he kept pacing back and forth beside us, whining all the while.
“You’re a good girl, Piper,” Blue rasped. “You made this old man’s life a lot easier these past few months.”
“Don’t talk like that that,” I said, trying to inject some false cheer into my voice and failing miserably at
it. “The paramedics are on their way. You’re going to be fine. You’ll be back here telling me more stories in no time flat. You’ll see.”
Blue smiled at me a final time, then his eyes went distant and glassy, his head lolled to the side again, and his entire body relaxed.
“Blue! Blue!” I yelled and yelled, but it was no use.
He died in my arms.
PART TWO
SUPERFAN
Chapter Five
The cops arrived about three minutes later. They found me in the back of the alley, cradling Blue’s bloody body, with Rascal still whining and crying by my side. I was crying too, silent tears streaming down my face one after another.
I got to my feet and moved out of the way when the paramedics appeared, even though it was too late for Blue. Sure enough, a few minutes later, they pronounced him dead on the scene.
A cop walked me back out to the street, away from Blue’s body, and took my statement. I told him everything I knew, and everything Blue had said to me before he’d died. Sometime during our conversation, I realized that Sean Newman, Bigtime’s chief of police, had arrived and was listening to my story.
The officer finished taking my statement, retrieved my purse and bag of puppy supplies from the alley, and brought them over to me. I gave him my contact info in case he had any follow-up questions, then he went back into the alley with some of the other cops. I thought that Chief Newman would head back there as well, but instead he came over and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay, Piper?” he asked in his deep, Irish brogue.
I wiped another tear out of the corner of my eye. “It’s just so sad, so horrible. Who would want to hurt Blue? He wasn’t a villain. Not anymore. He was just a guy who was down on his luck.”
At my feet, Rascal barked his agreement.
“I don’t know who would do something like this,” Chief Newman said. “But the entire department will work to find whoever murdered Bustling Blue and bring that person to justice.”
Fandemic Page 4
