Mouse just cocked his head to the side and stared at me.
“Fine,” I mumbled after a few seconds. “I promised my mother a while back that I’d try with him, so I’ll give it a little more effort.”
“Sounds good.”
At that moment, Electra came into the room. She smiled when she saw me and headed in our direction.
Her shoulder-length hair, dark and straight, had obviously been trimmed quite recently. As usual, she wore little makeup or jewelry; she had a natural beauty that cosmetics tended to hamper, so she rarely utilized them (except for a shade of red lipstick that she had somehow figured out I liked seeing on her). In terms of clothes, she wore a pair of sandals, jeans, and a flutter-sleeved top.
I stood up as she got close, and found myself returning her infectious smile.
“Hey you,” she said, taking my hand. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I said. I turned to Mouse and held out my hand. “Later.”
“Don’t forget what we talked about,” he said as he shook my hand. “By the way, where are you guys going?”
Electra grinned. “He won’t tell me. It’s a surprise.”
“Well, don’t have her out too late,” stressed a voice behind me. I glanced around and saw Vixen, who apparently had returned just in time to see us off. “I’d hate to have to come after you.”
She was only half-joking, I knew. Electra was an orphan, and had been raised with the entire Alpha League as her guardian. I’m not sure any one person in particular saw themselves in the parental role, but quite a few of them – especially the younger ones like Vixen and Mouse, who had only been in the League a few years – looked upon her as a little sister (which might have been even worse). Plus, Electra and I were both part of Alpha League’s group of teen supers. In short, there were a million ways this relationship could go wrong and have nasty repercussions.
We said our goodbyes and I was about to teleport us out of there (I had something special planned) when Vixen spoke up again.
“Electra, do you mind if I borrow your boyfriend for a second before you guys take off?” she asked.
I felt my cheeks turning red. What Electra and I had was still pretty new, and as such we hadn’t put any labels on it yet. Thus, I was about to protest and say that I wasn’t her boyfriend when Electra cut me off.
“That’s fine,” she answered. “I want to ask Mouse something anyway.”
With that, Vixen dragged me over to a far corner of the room.
“I need you to do me a favor,” she said.
“Sure,” I said, nodding.
“I need for you to do well in your classes at the Academy.”
“Okay,” I said, slightly confused. “But I was planning to do my best anyway.”
“Not your best,” she said. “I need you to excel.”
I frowned. “I’m not following you.”
She sighed and lowered her head in thought for a moment. “How much do you know about Sirens?”
I shrugged. “About the same as everyone, I suppose. Beautiful. Empathic. Able to manipulate the opposite sex.”
“Did you know that we bond for life? With a mate?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve never heard that before. My understanding is that you’re all slu–…uh, flirts.”
“It has to be the right male,” she said, ignoring my last comment. She glanced in Mouse’s direction, where he was talking to Electra. “But when we meet him, something’s triggered in our DNA. We have to be with him and only him.”
“And Mouse is that guy for you?” I asked. She nodded. “But what does that have to do with me?”
She turned her attention back to me. “With most guys, bonding with a Siren isn’t an issue. They can’t get enough of us. But, as you’ve probably figured out by now, Mouse isn’t most men.”
I thought for a second. “So, you’re saying that the power that Sirens usually have over men doesn’t work on Mouse?”
“Not to the same degree.”
“I still don’t understand how it relates to me and my studies.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Mouse needs someone he can talk to.”
“Isn’t that where you come in? I thought most women wanted their guys to talk to them.”
“No, I’m not talking about normal everyday stuff. He needs someone he can talk to about all the high-level, scientific crap that’s always running through his brain. According to the tests, you’ve got a genius-level IQ. Ergo, you’re elected.”
I frowned at that. Not so much that I had tested as having a high IQ – I’d been tested before – but because Vixen was essentially asking me to become Mouse’s intellectual peer.
“That’s a tall order,” I said. “There’s got to be someone else who can pick up the slack.”
“There are, but let me share something with you: when he saw your scores, he was super-excited. He may have acted nonchalantly here today, but he couldn’t stop raving about how great it was going to be to work with you on some of his projects. So I need you to go to the Academy, study your butt off, and come back here a complete whiz in every subject. Because if you don’t…”
She looked away, and her lip sort of trembled. I felt odd emotions starting to flow from her - distress and anguish, rooted in loss.
“You’re afraid,” I said in sudden comprehension. “You think that he’s going to get bored around here. Get bored intellectually and leave.”
She didn’t say anything, just gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Okay,” I said, nodding in agreement. “I’ll give it my all.”
She suddenly looked up with a smile, then gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As I left with Electra, I couldn’t help but wonder if Vixen had somehow just used her power to manipulate me.
Chapter 6
I had promised Electra a surprise for our date, so I made her close her eyes when I teleported us. When she opened them, I could see that she was a little disappointed. We were in a long, wide building with high ceilings. Exquisite paintings hung on the walls.
“A museum?” she asked, looking around. “What’s so special about this?”
I smiled and just pointed behind her, where a large group of people were amassed around a single painting, jostling each other and snapping pictures.
“What is that?” Electra asked as she started moving towards the crowd. “What are they all looking at?”
“La Joconde,” I said, taking off my sports coat. Telescoping my vision, I was able to see the portrait easily, but Electra still needed to get closer.
She kept moving forward, squinting to get a better idea of what the painting was. Suddenly, her eyes went wide; she let out a squeal of excitement that made a lot of people in the crowd look back in her direction as she raised a hand to her mouth in shock. Then she ran to me, mouth wide open, with a shocked-but-happy expression on her face.
“Jim!” she exclaimed. “That’s the freaking Mona Lisa!”
“La Joconde in French,” I said, but I don’t think she heard me. She was suddenly looking around the building with new eyes.
“Oh my…” she said, somewhat breathless. “This, this is the Louvre. We’re in Paris! Paris!!!”
The hair on my arms began to rise as the air started becoming ionized. Electra, as her name implied, had power over electricity, and because of her excitement her control was starting to slip. I’d been on the receiving end of her electrical blasts before and had no desire to repeat the experience - even if it was an accident.
I raised my arm so she could see what was happening. It took her a second to realize what I was doing, and then her lips curved into a surprised “Oh!” Her brow furrowed in concentration for a second, and then the charge I’d felt building in the air suddenly dissipated. The danger past, Electra squealed again and jumped into my arms, giving me a bear hug.
*****
With Paris being six hours ahead of us, we didn’t have much time to see the museum. In fact, the Louvre no
rmally would have been closed at the time we arrived, but I had checked and they had extended hours this particular weekend. Electra dragged me from one exhibit to the next, barely giving me time to view it before moving on. When they finally kicked the last of us visitors out at closing time - long before Electra and I had had a chance to see everything - it was dark outside, but she was still grinning from ear to ear.
“That was so awesome!” she screamed, spinning around in a circle with her arms outstretched.
“Yeah, we’ll have to come back again and see the rest another time,” I said.
“Come back?” she repeated, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Then she smiled and gave me an unexpected peck on the lips. The shape of things to come, perhaps?
“Next time, though, can we not teleport directly inside?” she asked. “I feel a little guilty about sneaking in without paying.”
I laughed. “Admission’s free for people under age eighteen. At worst, all we did was cut to the front of the line.”
“Oh,” she said, obviously rethinking the matter. “I guess that’s not so bad. Regardless, no one’s going to believe this when we get back.”
“Well, we’re not done yet,” I said.
“We’re not?”
“No. As they say, you haven’t seen Paris until you’ve seen it at night.”
We were still outside the Louvre, but I had slowly been guiding us in a particular direction as we walked. For the first time, Electra seemed to take a look around her. Although you could see the lights of the city in every direction, one object immediately caught her attention.
“Oh, Jim,” she said matter-of-factly, “we can not leave without seeing that.”
“Then you’re in luck, because that’s just where we’re going. The Eiffel Tower.”
*****
The Tower was roughly two miles from the Louvre. I could have teleported us to it or picked Electra up and zoomed over there at Mach speed, but part of what makes certain events special is experiencing them to the fullest. Thus, we walked and talked until we reached our destination.
The Eiffel Tower is arranged in three levels. There’s the top floor, which offers a remarkable view of Paris. Below that is the second floor, which contains, among other things, souvenir shops and the world-famous Jules Verne restaurant. Then there’s the first floor, which also has shops and restaurants, as well as a variety of other activities.
We went to the top of the Tower first, taking the elevator (as opposed to having me teleport or fly us up). From there, we had a panoramic view of Paris. The city, lit up in a dazzling array of colors, was beautiful. Even so, I couldn’t help but think that this girl with me, wind whipping gently through her hair, outshined even the City of Light. It was all I could do not to try to steal a kiss.
Next, we went down to the second floor to look for souvenirs. There’s a widespread rumor that shopping with women is a horrid experience, but I rather enjoyed it – mostly because Electra spent most of the time goofing off. For instance, every time I turned away for a second, she’d slip away and spend the next few minutes hiding from me, dipping and dodging around souvenir displays and racks of clothes until I found her.
Once, when her attention was occupied by a miniature version of the Tower, I tried giving her a taste of her own medicine. Instead of hiding, however, I simply slapped a beret on my head and shifted, transforming my appearance to that of a stereotypical disdainful Frenchman in his mid-thirties. Then I walked up to Electra and took her hand in mine and kissed it smarmily. For a second she looked surprised, and then she burst out laughing and pulled her hand away.
“You can forget about holding my hand,” she said between giggles, “until you change back. You look like a total lech!”
For a moment, I stood there stunned. How had she known it was me? I was so careful, making sure that she was looking away when I shifted, and as a shapeshifter the change was practically instantaneous.
“Oh,” she said, pinching my cheek. “Is baby mad that Mommy saw through his little disguise? He must not remember who Mommy is.”
As a reminder, she held up her hand and I saw a little bolt of electricity zip across her fingertips. Then it came back to me. Electra’s power let her read bioelectric fields. In fact, those fields were as distinctive as photographs to her, and she could use them to distinguish people. Changing my appearance hadn’t fooled her one bit. In fact, it had been Electra who - using that same power - had outted me as Kid Sensation a few weeks earlier, even when I was in another persona.
I shifted back and reached up to take the beret off.
“No, no, no,” Electra protested. “Keep it on; it looks good on you.” She pointed to a nearby beauty mirror sitting on a counter. “Take a look.”
I walked over and glanced into the mirror. The reflection staring back at me showed a tall, slender sixteen-year-old guy with short, dark curly hair and a natural complexion that looked something in between fair and moderately tan. And she was right: the beret, oddly enough, did look good on me.
We left the shop shortly thereafter, with Electra buying the beret for me as a gift. (Or rather, I paid and she promised to pay me back.) On my part, I bought her an I-[Heart]-Paris t-shirt. We then went to dinner at Le Jules Verne.
The restaurant was rather upscale, so while my ensemble passed muster, the hostess went into a side closet and retrieved a ladies jacket for Electra. They kept such items on hand for occasions when patrons were not appropriately dressed, and I had to admit that it went a long way towards deemphasizing the casualness of Electra’s attire. We were then seated at a window table, with a breathtaking view of the French capital.
The service was prompt and courteous (clearly an attempt to make up for the outrageous prices), and before long we had our appetizers – soup for me, salad for her – in front of us. However, it wasn’t until we had our entrees that I decided to bring up something that had been nagging at me since we had left the safe house.
“So,” I said nonchalantly, “do you recall when Vixen asked to speak to me this afternoon?”
She answered with a nod, barely taking her attention away from the shrimp pasta she had ordered.
“Did you notice,” I continued, “that she called me your boyfriend?”
Again, Electra simply nodded, so I went on, a bit nervously. “Since you, uh, since you didn’t correct her…does, uh, does that mean I’m your boyfriend?”
“Of course,” she answered with a smile.
“So that means that you’re my girlfriend?”
Her face suddenly took on an odd expression, twisted in a weird way by mock indignation. “Uh, have you asked me to be your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then no, I’m not your girlfriend.”
“But you just said that I’m your boyfriend.”
“That’s right.”
I sat there, thoroughly confused. “So, you’re saying I’m your boyfriend, but you’re not my girlfriend.”
“Yep.”
I tossed my hands up in frustration. “How does that even work?”
She glanced upward for a moment, apparently deep in thought. “I’m not sure. It just does. I suppose you could say that you have obligations to me, but I don’t have any to you. At least, not until you ask.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. This is how women drive men crazy, this kind of incomprehensible feminine logic.
“Vy don ju keese har?” asked a voice next to me.
I turned and looked, paying attention for the first time to the people sitting at the table next to us. The way the dining room was set up, we had a table next to the window. Behind both me and Electra were other tables also lining the window. However, there was also a table next to us heading in towards the interior of the dining room.
Seated at the interior table was an elderly French couple, and they had the kind of visible affinity that only comes from long years together. The man, who was the person who had spoken, repeated his question, and this time I focu
sed on what he was asking, filtering out his accent: “Why don’t you kiss her?”
“Kiss her?” I asked.
“Oui,” he said with a nod. “She is clearly in love, but wants you to express your love for her first. And why waste the moment? You make a reservation months in advance at a place as special as Le Jules Verne, and you will not tell her how you feel? It is foolishness!”
“Wait a minute,” Electra said, “when did you make your reservations here?”
The couple looked at each other, and the man took the woman’s hand in his before turning back to us. “It is our wedding anniversary. Fifty years. To make sure we celebrate in style, I make the reservation three months ago.”
A frown suddenly darkened Electra’s face. I was worried that the couple would take offense, so I picked up the thread of the conversation.
“Fifty years?” I asked, trying to appear both surprised and impressed. “How did you manage that?”
While I listened to the couple give me the secret of a long and happy relationship, I noticed Electra turn around and speak for a few seconds to the couple seated at the table behind her. Her face, if possible, looked even more distressed when she turned back to me.
“Please excuse me for a moment,” she said, standing and placing her napkin on the table. Then she walked towards the hostess’ stand – presumably to ask where the ladies’ room was. Despite her departure, the old couple barely skipped a beat in telling me the story of their marriage.
They were still talking a few minutes later when I finally saw Electra reappear. However, instead of coming straight back to where we were seated, she seemed to wander the restaurant randomly, stopping to speak to other diners here and there. Finally, she came back to our table.
I took the opportunity to excuse myself. I had done my good deed for the day in listening to our fellow diners; Electra could take her turn in the salt mines now. (Okay, it wasn’t that bad – and they actually had some useful words of wisdom – but I just didn’t like the way she’d kind of deserted me.)
The Kid Sensation Series Box Set Page 20
