Hero Blues

by Michelle L. Levigne

  "Hey, there are child labor laws," Kurt said, grinning, when Penny squealed.

  "Don't be a jerk." Penny rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder.

  "That's what big brothers are for."

  "Brother?" Jane wondered if she had missed out on something during their exchanges over the last two weeks. She couldn't see much similarity between them. He was old enough to be her legal guardian, if they were related, so she should be living with him, shouldn't she?

  "Kurt leads an engineers club at NCH," Penny said as she hurried to put the appointments in the book on the front counter. "He's big brother to everybody."

  "Oh, okay. That's...nice," Jane said, unable to think of a word that would express her uncertain feelings. How could she express what she felt when she wasn't sure what she felt? It was like the Kurt she had gotten to know wasn't there anymore, like he had been only a mask, and now she was meeting the real Kurt. A "real" she didn't think she would like.

  "The least I can do, considering I grew up there." His eyes narrowed again. "You were at NCH. That's something we haven't talked about, but Angela did say..." He sighed, and for a moment she had the strangest sense that he was kicking himself, for overlooking something. It made sense to her that when Angela pointed out anything, no matter how small, it was important. "Okay, when did you leave? We're not that much different in age, if you graduated from there, I'd remember you."

  "I didn't graduate. I was adopted. Kind of."

  "Kind of? Either you were or you weren't."

  "Kurt." Penny frowned at him. "Don't be a jerk. She got out. Was it a nice place where they took you?"

  "Yeah. Lots of people like me." Jane tipped her head slightly, widening her eyes, to get Kurt to understand. From the cocking of one eyebrow, he did.

  "I think I'd like to hear more about this place. But I got to get back to work. Catch you later." He nodded to her, to Penny, turned neatly on one heel and strolled out the door.

  "What is with the cute guys?" Penny said with a sigh, and watched him walk down the street, until he left the frame of the window. "It's like being a hunk causes testosterone poisoning or something sometimes."

  "You think he's cute? He's your big brother."

  "Not like that. And he's way too old for me, anyway." She grinned. "Not for you, though."

  "Ah... You know, I think I'd like to settle in more before I start looking at guys that way." Jane returned to the counter where she had been filling out resupply orders.

  "Makes sense. But I have to warn you, he's pretty close with Lanie and Felicity—they spend a lot of time with us too—but anyway, he spends a lot of time with them. Sometimes when a guy is pals with some girls, it's hard to get—I don't know—romantic?"

  "I'm not looking for romance, but I am looking for some new, good friends. Girlfriends. I definitely need to spend more time with Lanie. Come to think of it, she and Kurt both mentioned introducing me to Felicity, but she's been kind of busy with her fiancé, from what I heard. So, do you know, they were at the orphanage too?"

  "Yeah, that's why they're big sisters. To pay back. People at Miss Lanie's church are always coming out and spending time with us, taking us canoeing or to movies and things, or summer camp. I've met other kids at other orphanages in the county. We've got it really, really good, compared to them. Neighborlee is the greatest place in the world to live."

  "Definitely," Jane murmured.

  She and Kurt needed to talk. She had learned so much from this little encounter, but had a dozen new questions for every one answered. The most important one was why he had waited until now to suddenly start an inquisition.

  * * * *

  Hey, Hanson.

  Jane felt for stirring in the mental atmosphere to hopefully give her an idea where, geographically, her suddenly unfriendly, unjustifiably hunky handyman might be hiding. She sometimes helped Reginald and Demetrius track down new Gifted because she had some sensitivity. From the things Kurt had said, he had some sensitivity, too. The fact that he had heard her thoughts and she had been able to hear him in response, and it hadn't hurt... Shouldn't that mean if she called, if she focused on him hard enough, he would hear her?

  Just trying to analyze and understand what had happened that afternoon gave her a headache. Kurt Hanson—it just wasn't fair that a guy who affected her on a hormonal level, who had been her hero when she was a child, had to be her enemy.

  Did he have to be her enemy?

  Get back on track, she silently scolded herself. Hey, Hanson, I know you're there!

  Actually, she could only hope and suspect he was there. Whatever his powers, Kurt Hanson created no ripples in the mental atmosphere. Not that she had ever been able to sense ripples before.

  Hanson, I know you're there, she repeated, and boosted the output. Tell all your Gifted friends and anybody else who might be listening, I am not here to cause trouble.

  Prove it, Kurt responded. His mental voice sounded as if he were in the same room. Jane could have sworn she felt his breath on her neck.

  She turned around quickly, scanning her apartment. He could fly, couldn't he? She wouldn't put it past him to fly up, open her skylight and sneak into her apartment to spy on her. She said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn't followed her usual routine of stripping down to her panties and donning a three-X t-shirt for the rest of the evening.

  Jane stopped herself before she asked if he was in the room, and quickly repressed the image of Kurt sitting on her new red plaid futon, watching her scurry around the room, trying to find him.

  Just let me get on with my life. All I want is a normal, ordinary life.

  Prove it, he repeated. Followed by a chuckle.

  Just what do I have to prove? How?

  You'll figure it out.

  Figure what out?

  Oh, just a heads up. My talent changes to suit whoever I'm concentrating on. I'm figuring out what you do, and I look forward to exploring it. If you know what I mean, he added after a few seconds of pause.

  No, I don't.

  Jane had the awful feeling she would soon know what he meant. And she wouldn't like it.

  * * * *

  Heads up! Kurt called an hour after she opened the shop that morning.

  Jane turned on one heel, startled, expecting to see him come slamming through the door of her shop. She almost knocked herself off balance with her speed. She caught a glimpse of a hand waving at her, poking through a wall. Then it vanished—as all the screws holding her wooden display shelves of hair care products fell out of their holes and chimed to the floor.

  She reacted without thinking, dashing across the spa at triple speed, and phased out, to throw a field around the shelves and keep them upright. Jane caught herself in a heartbeat and phased back in enough to be visible. It was Saturday and she had people in the shop, after all. Her fingers flew at lightning speed, whipping the fallen screws up into the air and back into place. It was hard work at half-phase, bringing beads of sweat to her face.

  So this was what the Handyman did? He borrowed other people's talents, whether they were using them or not?

  How could she fight against that?

  Why did he think he had to use her Gift against her?

  "Jane? Something wrong?" Penny asked, while the last four screws slammed back into their designated holes.

  "Nope. Nothing." Jane tried to smile as she turned around and phased back completely. She shook inside, half from the strain and half in anger. Just what did Kurt think he was doing?

  Her second thought was: How could someone so ruggedly yummy be so juvenile?

  At least he hadn't attacked the supports for the glass shelving of cosmetics and perfume. That would have been a disaster.

  What was she doing, being grateful for his choice of targets?

  I'm not giving up, she called to him, wherever the rat might be hiding.

  I wouldn't even think of asking. This is just the first salvo.

  Kurt didn't sound anything other than tired and
a little glum. Or was he bored? She wished he would gloat or be arrogant, just so she could hate him.

  So this means war. She took a deep breath and cast a protective field around her shop. She had no idea if he could break the field, if he had the mirror and mimic talent as she suspected. All she could do was try.

  * * * *

  Deep in the caverns below Neighborlee, where Native American paintings gleamed softly in the luminous glow of fungi and stalactites dripped with soft chiming sounds, something dark and somnolent felt the diluted echo of Jane's sudden burst of power. Skin made of darkness rippled in response, like a horse shuddering off a pesky fly. Something took a deep breath of the damp air, for the first time in centuries, and began the slow rise toward waking.

  * * * *

  When one kitten caught up a utility pole didn't get Jane's sympathy or help, suddenly there were four, battling for a place to perch. Jane looked in every direction before phasing out and rising up to grab the kittens. No one saw her. On the way up, at least.

  On the way down, Kurt zoomed in at her from nowhere, grabbed her by the arm, shoved her toward the ground and negated her invisibility. Then he let out a shout, so the people on the other side of the street turned to look as she tumbled six feet to the ground. He floated away, still out of phase, his silence more of a taunt than anything he could say.

  Jane barely managed to pass off her tumble as having skidded on a patch of ice underneath the dusting of snow from last night.

  She knew now what the Handyman's strategy was—she wouldn't think of him as Kurt Hanson any longer, because he was no longer a potential friend, a human being, in her eyes. He was the enemy who wanted to drive her out of Neighborlee by exposing her Gifts.

  "That's what he thinks," she muttered, and cuddled the kittens as she walked back to the spa, her lunch forgotten, her appetite completely lost.

  Penny cooed and sighed over the kittens. Jane knew the rules wouldn't let the teenager keep pets at the orphanage, so she offered to keep one of the kittens at the spa, if Penny agreed to be responsible for food and the litter box. Jane had never felt so much like a hero, in all her years in Fendersburg, as she did that moment, looking into one teenager's happy eyes.

  That's not going to help you at all, Kurt said.

  Jane didn't even bother looking for him. She finished pulling out her wallet and dug for money to send Penny to the grocery store for supplies.

  She had the awful feeling she knew what his tactics would be, and his goal. She imagined small disasters every time she ventured out of the spa—or worse, whenever there were witnesses in the shop. Would he make her display window fall inward, all the caulking in the frame suddenly vanishing? Start fires in her shop? Would manhole covers vanish as she stepped on them? Was he going to test her, or did he want to drive her out of town? Or just unmask her in front of the people she wanted to be her friends and neighbors? She couldn't imagine Kurt doing something that threatened the well-being of the people around her.

  This was his town, his home. Did he think she was a threat? Did he think only a certain number of Gifted people could be in the town? What did he want from her?

  Jane was drinking a soy and raspberry smoothie that Penny brought her at dinnertime. She choked and nearly spat pink all over her freshly washed counter when her thoughts solidified into one question: Would she fight for her place in Neighborlee, to the point of being the Ghost again?

  * * * *

  Deep below Neighborlee, as Jane searched her shop for structural weaknesses and regularly stretched out her awareness, searching for the next attack from Kurt, ripples of power expanded and soaked into the ground. The darkness awakened just a little more. The smell of extra-human energy stirred it like the smell of coffee stirred a man on vacation. The sleeping malevolence was content to continue drowsing and dozing a little longer...but not much longer.

  * * * *

  Jane decided the situation warranted doing more than living on double alertness. The only way to figure out what Kurt was up to, if he insisted on being cryptic, was to fight back.

  But how?

  The only thing she knew for sure was that while the Handyman might be able to borrow her Ghost powers, she had years of practice and "inside knowledge" at her disposal. That would be her advantage.

  At least, Jane hoped so.

  First step: make her spa attack-proof by tightening up the defensive field. Not a strong one, and certainly not anything that would keep customers out or make her shop invisible. This was a trick that she had learned utterly by accident, when she had just started to realize she was different from the other orphans. Different beyond being left alone in the middle of nowhere.

  There had been a bully at the orphanage, a hanger-on of the Gladstones. They sometimes employed him to continue their tormenting activities when they couldn't follow their intended victims beyond the orphanage gates. He delighted in picking on anyone whom he could use to get ahead. The ones he could intimidate quietly, or keep silent so the older boys who defended the younger children didn't find out and "talk sense" into him.

  The smarter students, he made do his homework. The ones who were good at cleaning up the dishes or helping with the laundry or other chores had to do his chores for him. The ones who had responsibility, or whom the house parents relied on, he bullied into covering for him when he wanted to sneak out of the dormitory or get an extra snack or other privileges.

  When Jane refused to do his homework for him, he took to stealing her homework. She learned quite by accident—wishing hard enough to give herself a headache—to surround her books, then her trunk in the dormitory with a field that made them both invisible. Having the trunk vanish got unwanted attention from the house parents during dormitory inspections, so when she realized what she could do, she played with the protective field until it merely kept the bully from opening her trunk.

  When he sabotaged her other belongings, she learned to surround everything she had with a field that kept him from touching them. He either got stung or he wasn't able to move anything.

  In time, she learned to adjust the field so only certain people were kept away. The first time the bully complained about electric shocks in Jane's room, she had the immense satisfaction of watching Mrs. Silvestri touch her bed frame, then her dresser drawers, then her trunk, all without feeling anything. Then, she got the immense satisfaction of watching the bully get a long overdue scolding for even being in a girl's room, much less the girl's half of the cottage, much less invading someone else's privacy.

  After that, Jane had to watch her step outside the orphanage, because he was a smart bully and never repeated the same mistake twice. She learned to become invisible soon after. Jane supposed she owed him something, for pushing her to test her Gift and find out what she could really do. Funny, but she couldn't even remember his name now.

  What it came down to, though, was that she could protect her spa with a field that would keep anyone with Gifts from entering and yet let ordinary humans in. When Lanie and Angela came to visit, she would just deal with their questions then. They had proven themselves to be friendly. But how friendly would they be once they learned Kurt was on the attack? What mattered now was dealing with Kurt, protecting her spa, figuring out what he wanted.

  And yes, negotiating a truce. Jane almost laughed aloud when she realized she wanted to be friends with him.

  "Talk about hormones messing up your brain," she muttered.

  Jane monitored the field through Saturday night, and then a quiet Sunday, to strengthen it, to see if anyone had tried to penetrate. When necessary, she would change the energy frequency pouring through it, just in case the Handyman tried to adjust his personal "frequency" to get around the barrier. If she had learned to do that, to walk through walls and electric fences and avoid being caught by motion detectors and infra-red scanners, then so could he. With time. Jane had no intention of giving him that much time to figure out her tricks and secrets, and work around them.

  She had
a restless night Sunday, constantly waking from dreams of someone trying to talk to her, someone tapping on the skylight, asking to get into her apartment. It made her cranky and she felt her control over the protective field slipping. Just a little. With her luck, the Handyman would sense the wavering control she had, and he would attack them.

  To her disappointment, nothing happened all day on Monday.

  She supposed he had decided to play mind games for a while. Was he giving her the silent treatment, tormenting her with uncertainty, hoping she would crack soon and contact him?

  "Don't hold your breath," she muttered, smiled, and went back to filling out an order for nail fashion accessories.

  As the Ghost, she had learned the waiting game. She'd always won.

  Unless those odd dreams she had were rooted in the Handyman trying to penetrate her defenses while she slept? Did he have some mental Gifts, so he was trying to get into her mind, invade her dreams, program her to be open and receptive and invite him inside her mental shields as well as the energy that protected her shop?

  The Handyman had an awful lot to learn about dealing with the Ghost.

  * * * *

  Tuesday morning, as she came down the back stairs from her apartment, Jane felt a fluctuation in pressure against the outer walls of the spa. The same fluctuation she would feel if she was inside a balloon filled with water, and someone pressed slowly from the outside. She smiled and didn't even pause on the steps. A snap of her fingers sent a near-invisible flick of power across the room to turn on the lights for the spa. Jane listened, but didn't make a sound in the mental atmosphere. Now it was time for her to give the Handyman the silent treatment and drive him crazy with waiting for a reaction.

  * * * *

  Buried in the bedrock of Neighborlee, something shuddered a few more degrees toward waking. Shadows rippled among lighter shadows among darker shadows. A darkness that would give nightmares to the Children of the Night flicked out its poisonous, acid-tipped tongue and tasted the atmosphere.