Karma Girl

by Jennifer Estep

  I sat in a pew near the front of the massive church, nestled between Grandfather and Carmen Cole. Sam sat on the other side of Carmen, while Henry, Lulu, and Chief Newman slid into the seats behind us. The inside of the church was dim and smelled faintly of incense. A white light highlighted Berkley’s face, which looked calm and serene in his casket.

  The service had already stretched into its third hour, with one person after another getting up to talk about Berkley and what he’d meant to them and the rest of the city. Grandfather had been among those to speak.

  Another person left the stage, and I saw Abby Appleby gesture to the organist. Abby stood off to one side, partially hidden by a spray of roses. In addition to party planning, Abby also arranged funerals, and Joanne had called upon her to make sure Berkley had a proper send-off and burial. From the flowers to the casket to the order of speakers, everything had been perfect. Berkley would have approved.

  Now, it was Joanne’s turn to talk. She wore a simple black suit, one of my designs. Her only jewelry was her enormous diamond ring. Her face looked even thinner and paler than before, and dark circles ringed her eyes. Even her perfect makeup couldn’t disguise the fact that she was grieving deeply. Joanne’s eyes swept over the crowd, taking in all of the people. Our gazes met for a moment before she continued on with her perusal. Then, she leaned toward the microphone.

  “Well, Berkley would certainly be pleased with the turnout today. I am. I want to thank you all for coming and paying your respects to Berkley. He was a kind, gentle, caring man. He loved me, and I loved him more than words could ever say.” Joanne paused, struggling to keep her composure. “That’s it. That’s all I want to say. Because no amount of words will ever bring Berkley back. Nothing will. I love you, Berkley. Goodbye.”

  Joanne walked away from the podium. She went over to where Berkley rested and placed a kiss on his cold lips. She motioned to the pallbearers, and they closed the casket and picked it up. Abby came over to Joanne to escort her outside, but she waved the event planner away. Joanne held up her chin, slid a pair of oversized sunglasses on her pale face, and strode outside. Her steps faltered only a little.

  The casket glided out the stained glass doors of the cathedral. The crowd of mourners trailed along behind, walking the three short blocks to Bigtime Cemetery. We gathered around a freshly dug hole. The brown blotch ruined the smoothness of the grass. The cemetery workers lowered the casket into the ground while a minister said prayers of comfort and hope. Joanne stepped forward and threw a violet rose onto the casket just before they put the first scoop of dirt on the gleaming surface.

  I looked up from the sight and locked eyes with Devlin. My breath caught in my throat as his blue gaze held mine. The minister kept saying prayers as the service continued, but I didn’t hear them. All I could hear, see, think about was Devlin. He moved through the crowd until he stood next to me. I drew in his scent of smoldering roses. It made me a little dizzy, the way it always did.

  The service continued for the better part of an hour. Once the casket was completely covered, the minister finished his prayers. People said their condolences and goodbyes to Joanne, then drifted off to their waiting limos.

  To my surprise, Jasper stood at the edge of the thinning crowd, leaning on a set of crutches. Joanne spotted him about the same time I did. They stared at each other for several seconds before Jasper gave her a sad smile. Joanne’s lips quivered, and she nodded at him. Then, Jasper turned and hobbled away. Joanne watched him go, something like regret flashing in her eyes, before she turned to the next mourner, Chief Sean Newman. The chief whispered something in her ear. Joanne gave him a wan smile and moved on to the next well-wisher. The chief moved off to one side, his eyes lingering on the grieving widow.

  Devlin took my elbow and led me over to a nearby bench. I let him. We sat there in silence for a long time, watching the workers erect the statue that would mark Berkley’s grave.

  I’d thought of nothing but Devlin these last few days, and it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself into his arms and begging him to give up being Debonair. To tell him I loved him just as much as he loved me. To plead with him never to leave my side for anything ever again.

  “Can we talk?” Devlin asked in a soft voice.

  I devoured him with my hungry gaze. I’d missed him so much. I still wanted him so much. But it could never happen. We could never be together. Not again.

  “Of course,” I said in my calmest, most sensible voice, trying to pretend we were just a couple of friends sitting on a bench together.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About how you didn’t want to be with a superhero. And you’re right. You shouldn’t have to go through all that again. Not for anybody.”

  I nodded, glad he could see my side of the argument.

  “But we live in a city, in a world, full of superheroes and ubervillains. You’re never going to be truly free of them, Bella. Never.”

  “I know,” I replied. “But I can do everything in my power to stay away from them. That much I can do.”

  “I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to do one more thing as Debonair, then I’m going to quit stealing art—forever.”

  Devlin’s words thrilled me, but I couldn’t let him go through with his plan. I couldn’t let him change that part of himself just for me. He would come to hate me for it. I knew he would.

  I put my hand on his. “That’s very noble of you, very sweet, Devlin. But it won’t work, and you know it. There’s always going to be one more thing you have to do, one more person you have to save, until one day, your luck is going to run out. And I’ll be back in this cemetery again, crying over your grave instead of Berkley’s.”

  Devlin shook his head. “No, this is different. You’ll see. I’m not giving up on us, Bella. Not now, not ever. I love you too much to let you go.”

  “Devlin—”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. And all the feelings I thought I’d buried, that I thought didn’t matter, roared back to the surface. In an instant, I was kissing him just as much as he was kissing me. Maybe even more so. We broke apart, breathing hard.

  Tears gathered in my eyes. “Please, Devlin. Don’t make this any harder than it is already. Please.”

  He stroked my cheek, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Things will work out, you’ll see, Bella. Trust me. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  For once, Devlin didn’t teleport away. He walked just like everybody else.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “You’re being stupid,” Fiona announced. “Completely, totally, willfully, horribly, awfully stupid.”

  I gave her a sour look. Fiona was one to talk about being stupid. She’d had Johnny convinced she was still in love with her dead fiancé before they’d gotten together.

  Fiona and I sat in the kitchen at the Bulluci mansion, along with Carmen and Lulu. Fiona and Johnny had come back from their trip early because of everything that had been going on. I’d invited Carmen and Lulu over to join us for brunch. Johnny and Grandfather were off watching a soccer game, while the other men in our lives were all busy with their day jobs.

  It had been a little over a week since I’d last seen Devlin at the cemetery. He hadn’t called or even popped into the house to see me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Still, I checked the news on SNN every night before I went to bed and first thing when I got up in the morning—praying I’d see Debonair on there and hoping I wouldn’t.

  I was a mess. A sad, confused, conflicted mess, which is why I’d invited my few girlfriends over to commiserate with me. What I hadn’t expected was for Fiona to berate me for my lack of faith in love.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

  Fiona punctuated her statement by shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. Two empty plates sat on the table beside her, along with a pitcher of apple juice and a tub of cream cheese she’d slathered on the six bagels she’d eaten.
So far. We’d only sat down to brunch fifteen minutes ago.

  Carmen and Lulu looked back and forth between the two of us, amused by the whole exchange.

  “Why am I being so stupid?” I asked. “It’s all perfectly clear and logical to me.”

  “That’s your problem. You’re so damn sensible all the time,” Fiona said. “Sometimes, you just have to follow your heart, Bella. No matter where it leads you. Carmen and Sam and Lulu and Henry are proof of that. The four of them couldn’t have been more wrong for each other, but they made their relationships work. Despite my efforts to the contrary.” She muttered that last part under her breath.

  “Hey!” Lulu growled. “Henry and I were, are, and will always be perfect for each other. Besides, I’m not the one who beat my future husband to a bloody pulp while we were dating. That was all you, Fiona.”

  Fiona’s eyes fixed on Lulu’s blue-streaked hair, and a few sparks fluttered from her fingertips. I was very glad we had tile floors throughout the house. Otherwise, Fiona would have burned it down long ago.

  “I think what Fiona and Lulu are trying to say is that it takes a lot of effort and compromise to make a relationship work, no matter how perfect you might be for the other person—or how much you love him,” Carmen said, sliding a stack of pancakes to Fiona.

  Fiona’s eyes fixed on the food, and the sparks around her fingers snuffed out. She was easily distracted sometimes.

  “I do love him, but it’s never going to work. I can’t ask him to give up being Debonair for me, and I don’t want to be with a superhero.”

  Carmen put her hand on top of mine. “I know how you feel, Bella. But you have to ask yourself—do you love him enough to at least give it a chance? And isn’t getting your heart broken better than never knowing if it would have worked out or not?”

  The three of them went back to their brunch, but I didn’t have any appetite for the high-protein, low-fat cheese-and-spinach quiche in front of me. I stabbed a bit of burned cheese and ate it without really even tasting it. Were my friends right? Should I try to make things work with Devlin, even if he was and would always be Debonair?

  I thought back to all the time we’d spent together. That first confrontation in Joanne’s house, meeting at the museum, our time in the Lair of Seduction, the way he held me, the way he listened to me, the way he loved me. He was a nice, mostly normal guy wrapped up in a bad-boy package. He was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.

  And I knew what I had to do. I had to at least give Devlin a chance. I had to try. It was the only sensible thing to do.

  Carmen looked at me, as if she knew what I’d decided. She smiled. “Go answer the phone, Bella. It’s for you.”

  I looked at her. “But it’s not even ring—”

  A second later, the phone in the kitchen rang out, a loud, beeping sound.

  I looked at the phone, then at Carmen. “That’s just creepy.”

  “Tell us about it,” Lulu said, taking a swig of her mimosa. “You don’t see her that much. We’ve got to deal with that stuff all the time.”

  I walked over and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Bella. It’s Arthur Anders.”

  “Hello, Arthur,” I said in a listless voice, wondering why the curator of the Bigtime Museum of Modern Art was calling me on a Sunday morning. “What’s up?”

  “Bella, could I ask you to come down to the museum? I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”

  “What is it? Is something wrong with the exhibit again?” I asked, worried.

  Despite the latest attack, the museum had reopened, and the Whimsical Wonders exhibit was still on display—minus the Star Sapphire. Joanne hadn’t wanted it to be part of the show again, and I hadn’t blamed her. But it would be just my luck if some other disaster befell the exhibition, now that it had already been wrecked by ubervillains twice and the main benefactor brutally murdered.

  He hesitated. “Not exactly.”

  Which meant that there was something seriously wrong. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

  “I’ll be there in half an hour,” I promised and hung up.

  “What was that about?” Fiona asked, slathering cream cheese on another blueberry bagel.

  “I’m not sure, but it didn’t sound good.”

  “Don’t worry, Bella. I think you’re in for a pleasant surprise.” Carmen’s eyes glowed for half a second. “A very pleasant surprise.”

  “With my luck? I don’t think so, no matter what kind of psychic vibe you’re getting.”

  “Oh, trust her, Bella,” Lulu piped up. “No matter how annoying she is, Sister Carmen and her psychic premonitions are rarely wrong.”

  I didn’t know which I was more afraid of—my luck or Carmen’s uncanny ability to see into the future.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I kept my word, leaving the girls to their brunch and arriving at the museum about an hour later.

  Arthur waited inside the door for me. I was a little taken back by his appearance—jeans and a white polo shirt. It was the first time I’d ever seen the curator not wearing his usual plaid jacket.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Calm down, Bella. Nothing’s wrong with the exhibit. In fact, a piece has been added to it. One that I think you’ll like very much.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about? We didn’t get any more donations. Not since the second ubervillain attack.”

  After that, I’d had to work very hard to convince people to leave anything on display. To my surprise, Joanne had helped me, pretty much bullying everyone else into doing what she wanted. I still didn’t understand why.

  Arthur gestured for me to follow him. “I got a call this morning from the security folks saying that someone had broken in. The weird thing was that he didn’t take anything. Instead, he left something behind for once. A drawing.”

  My heart started to pound. Somehow, I knew Debonair was behind this. Devlin, Devlin, what had you done?

  “Can I see it?” I asked.

  “Of course, that’s why I called you. The person who broke in left a note, saying you were the one who had done the drawing, although you had nothing to do with the breakin itself.”

  I almost fainted, and my hair frizzed so badly I thought it would leave my head altogether. I knew what I was going to see even before Arthur stepped aside to show me the piece of paper. My drawing of Debonair hung in the middle of a wall, right next to a painting by Monet, as though it were the same sort of masterpiece. Somehow, all the crinkles and stains and rumples had been smoothed out of the paper, and it had been mounted and framed in silver. Even if I hadn’t drawn it, I would have thought it was a breathtaking piece—or maybe that was just because I happened to be in love with the subject.

  “Do you recognize it?” Arthur asked.

  I swallowed. “Yes, it’s something I drew a few weeks ago after the first attack on the museum.”

  “I see.”

  Arthur continued to stare at the drawing, his eyes dark and hooded. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. That I was still an amateur artist with no real talent—and that I always would be.

  “Here,” I said, stepping forward. “This must be someone’s idea of a practical joke. I’ll take it down.”

  “Leave it up,” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  The curator smiled. “We’d like to keep it on display. In fact, if you have any more work that’s similar to this, we’d like to see that as well.”

  “You want to what?” I asked, stunned.

  “We want to do an exhibit of your drawings. You have a wonderful style, Bella. You’ve really grown as an artist. You’ve finally found your passion. You should share it with others.”

  Arthur pointed to the drawing and began describing everything that he liked about it—from the shading to the subtle shadows to the smoky detail. In short, he loved it—and wanted to see more works. Pronto.

  “This is like a dream,�
� I said in a shaky tone. My knees felt like they were going to buckle. “I can’t believe you like my work, especially after that critique you gave me in college.”

  Arthur patted my arm. “Of course I like it. I’ve always liked it. You’re very talented, Bella. You just needed to find a way to fully express yourself. Your work has always been good, but this—this is truly magnificent.”

  Arthur started talking to me about when I could show him more of my work, but all I could think about was Devlin and this moment of pure joy that he’d given me.

  Carmen and the others were right. We could make it work. We could make anything work. Devlin had just made one of my dreams come true. I was going to spend the rest of my life making his a reality.

  *

  The moment I left the museum, I whipped out my cell phone and called Devlin. No response. The phone just kept ringing and ringing. I called his office, his cell phone, his home out in the bay. The last line had been disconnected, but none of the other numbers worked either. Try to tell a guy you love him, and he drops off the face of the earth.

  Discouraged and frustrated, I went back home. Grace and Bobby were in the living room, watching television. For once, they weren’t kissing, just cuddling together. I plopped down on the love seat across from them and looked at Grace.

  “Where is he?” I demanded.

  “Who?” she replied, a smile curving her lips.

  “Devlin. I need to talk to him. Now.”

  Grace waved her hand. “Oh, he’s around somewhere.”

  “Listen up, lady. I’m in love with your grandson. Totally, completely, madly in love. I plan on telling him this as soon as possible. So you’d better tell me where he is right now. Or else I’m going to knock you into next week, even if you are a superhero. Are we clear?”

  Grace looked at me, then Bobby. “Well, it’s about time you came to your senses. Devlin has been worrying about you for days now. Change the channel to SNN, Bobby.”