Karma Girl Part 13

To tell or not to tell, that was the question.

After writing a glowing story about the benefit, I stayed up all night filtering through facts, following the money trail, and checking dates and times. There was nothing conclusive, but I could see a pattern, tiny little threads that would lead me to Striker's real ident.i.ty and a bona fide Page One expose of epic proportions. He'd been careful, but not quite careful enough. They never were, in the end.

On my way home from the park, I pa.s.sed a newsstand. I elbowed my way through the crowd, bought a copy of the day's edition of The Expose, and flipped to the society pages. The headline on the front of the section screamed: YEE-HAW INDEED! BENEFIT RAISES OVER $3 MILLION FOR RIDING PROGRAM, POLICE DEPARTMENT. Story by Carmen Cole. I couldn't remember the last time a story of mine had made the cover of, well, anything. At least I was going to go out on top, or at least on top of the society section. Plus, Lulu and the chief had a nice chunk of change to put toward their various do-good programs.

I tucked the newspaper under my arm and walked on. An hour later, without meaning to, I found myself at the corner of Seventh and Thirteenth streets. There it was, right over there, an alley that ran between two of the high-rise buildings. I slowed, took a deep breath, and crossed the street.

The alley seemed far less sinister than it had that night. It was just an alley, three brick walls strung together, stone piled on stone. My eyes swept over the scene. They had pinned me to the wall there, and they had all fallen over there when Striker had pulled them off me. My body still ached from the brutal a.s.sault, and my battered face had turned several interesting shades of green and purple. But no physical trace of the attack remained in the alley, other than the raw memories and jagged echoes in my mind.

My fist tightened around the bottle stuck in my jacket pocket. I always kept one hand on my pepper spray now, even during daylight hours.

I took a long, last look at the alley. Then, I stepped back out onto the main street. I squared my shoulders. There was only one thing I could do. I flipped open my cell phone and punched in a number.

"Talk to me."

"It's Carmen. I need to meet."

"Are you sure about this? Really, really sure?" Lulu asked.

"Positive."

The two of us were back in Paradise Park, next to the fountain where the nymphs danced in their never-ending circle. I chewed on a big cone of strawberry cotton candy I'd snagged while walking past one of the carnival vendors. Lulu sat silent, although her laptop hummed like a drowsy bee. Five minutes had pa.s.sed since I told Lulu what I wanted. The information queen had spent the last four trying to talk me out of it.

But I'd made my decision, for better or worse. I wasn't going to give up Striker to Malefica, not after he'd saved me. I owed him that much, no matter what else had happened between us. My original plan had been to use Striker's real ident.i.ty to lead me to Malefica's. But with just twenty-four hours left until the ubervillain's deadline, I didn't have enough time to uncover her real ident.i.ty, unless she ripped off KarmaGirl.

her mask herself for the whole world to see. But I wasn't just going to roll over for Malefica either. I had a plan. A stupid, probably fatal plan, but a plan nonetheless.

"Can he get me the stuff?" I asked. "I need it by tomorrow. And I need to know how to use it."

"He can, but it will be expensive on such short notice, especially the lesson."

Lulu rattled off a prospective price. I winced. It would pretty much deplete my nest egg and ensure a steady diet of macaroni and cheese for the next few years. Then again, if things went wrong, I wouldn't have much use for money anyway. "I can pay it. Do it."

Lulu began to type.

An hour later, I knocked on the door of one of the nicer brownstones in one of the nicer neighborhoods in Bigtime. An intercom cracked to life, and a security camera swiveled around to focus on Lulu and me.

"What's the word?" a gruff male voice asked.

"The word is boom-boom," Lulu replied.

The door buzzed open. A tall, thin man waited inside. A diamond twinkled in his ear, while gla.s.ses perched on the end of his hawklike nose.

"Jasper, what's going on?" Lulu asked.

The two engaged in a complicated handshake.

"Not much, L. This your friend?"

"Yeah. I told her you could help her out."

Jasper peered at me. "You got the money?"

"I've got it," I said. "You got what I want?"

"Always. Follow me, ladies."

Jasper walked farther back into the house. To my surprise, the inside of the brownstone was just as nice and normal as the outside. Overstuffed, slightly chintzy furniture crouched in the s.p.a.cious rooms, along with cabinets full of crystal knickknacks and several bookcases.

Jasper came to a metal door and stopped. He punched in a series of codes, and we went down through several more doors before reaching a small, cramped workroom. Twisted bits of metal and wire littered a long table, along with tools of every shape and size. I didn't even know the names for most of the devices. Jasper pulled a heavy lead box out from a safe underneath the table. He opened it, revealing some small metal b.a.l.l.s and even more wires.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jasper asked. "This stuff is pretty potent."

"Teach me everything you know. By the way, will you take a check?"

Lulu waved her hand. "Forget it, Sister Carmen. Your money's no good here. I've got this one."

"But-"

"But nothing. That story you did was terrific. Calls have been pouring in, and we've raised more money than ever before. I owe you this and the next three favors. Deal?"

"Deal," I said, not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I just hoped I'd be around long enough to collect on our bargain.

I did absolutely nothing that night. I played hooky from work, took a catnap, and whiled away the hours in whatever manner I saw fit.

I finished the thriller I'd been reading. I solved all of my Rubik's Cubes and snapped the final piece of my latest jigsaw puzzle into place. I ate deep-fried, fatty foods and didn't even think about exercising. I didn't bother with makeup and wore the most comfortable pair of sweats I owned. I was a condemned woman, and I thoroughly enjoyed my last free hours on earth.

KarmaGirl.

Mostly, though, I thought about Striker and his alter ego. About our pa.s.sionate night together. About how he'd held me so gently when I needed it the most. I thought about what this strange thing was between us and tried to puzzle out my attraction to him. I wanted to know if I'd meant more to him than just a one-night stand. Striker had come to mean a lot more than that to me, whether he realized it or not.

Despite my best intentions. Despite everything.

Finally, the day arrived.

The day.

I went for a walk early the next morning to check out the scene of my impending demise. Laurel Park perched on the outskirts of Bigtime. It was a small area that catered to families and senior citizens who liked to explore the many trails or feed the pigeons that populated the gra.s.sy lawns.

I strolled through the winding paths until I found the bench Malefica had mentioned. Children shrieked and played on a wooden swing set nearby, while their parents kept a watchful eye on them from under the shelter of a picnic awning. I stretched and did jumping jacks until they left, then did a little more exploratory work and put my plan into action using Lulu's generous gift. I power walked through the rest of the park and headed back downtown. There was one more thing I needed to do.

I bought a dozen red roses from a street vendor and made my way to Bigtime Cemetery. A row of pines separated the cemetery from Paradise Park and muted the wild, calliope music of the carousel. A wrought-iron gate surrounded the lush, green expanse, and tombstones and angel statues dotted the manicured lawn. Old women wearing towering hats and gardening gloves planted purple pansies in a bed of dirt. Nearby, a man clutched a tattered picture and stared at a fresh grave twenty feet away. Tears ran down his wrinkled face.

I headed for my destination. My stomach twisted. It always did when I came here. Row 17. Plot 325. An ordinary grave, topped with a simple, white marble tombstone that read TRAVIS TEMPLETON TEAGUE. BELOVED BY ALL. Tornado action figures marched across the top of the stone, while flowers, teddy bears, and cards cl.u.s.tered around the bottom. Six months had pa.s.sed since he'd died, and people still left mementoes on his grave. I laid my roses next to the others.

I stared at the tombstone, my heart aching. After Travis's suicide, I'd dug deeper into his past, frantic to figure out why he'd killed himself. I learned Travis was an only child. His parents died when he was a teenager, and he'd been raised by an uncle. Travis worked three jobs to put himself through Bigtime University. Eventually, he founded a company specializing in wind power and other alternative sources of energy. The company's innovative technology made him rich, but Travis didn't forget his struggles.

He gave gobs of money to charity and started college scholars.h.i.+ps for inner-city kids. Travis always paid his taxes on time, and he'd never gotten so much as a parking ticket. Everyone described him as kind, caring, and considerate.

Travis aka Tornado Teague had been a good man. And I'd killed him.

Even now, I wondered why. Why had he done it? Had Travis snapped because of the exposure? Been unable to handle the rabid media attention? Worried about the anonymity of his fellow superheroes?

Whatever Travis's reason, my expose had been the catalyst. Guilt tightened my chest, making it hard to breathe. Tears streaked down my face.

After a moment, I wiped them away. I couldn't change the tragedy I'd caused, but I could prevent another one from happening.

Or die trying.

I went back to my apartment and took a long shower, as if the water could cleanse my soul and wash KarmaGirl.

away my guilt. I put on my makeup with care and slipped into my favorite pair of faded jeans and a Ts.h.i.+rt that read I'M SMARTER THAN I LOOK. I hoped the logo would be true tonight. I wanted to look my best, even if I was going to my own funeral.

I took a last look around my apartment at all my books and puzzles and knickknacks. It had been my home ever since I'd come to Bigtime. It was a cozy s.p.a.ce, and I was going to miss it. I ran my fingers over the finished jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table. The peaceful scene of floating water lilies did little to soothe my taut nerves.

I took the notes I'd written to the landlord and Chief Newman and propped them up on the kitchen table.

The letter to the landlord instructed him to donate my clothes and books to local charities, while the missive to the chief explained what had happened to me.

I picked up the final note I'd written. To Striker. The superhero had been conspicuously absent the last few days. I had neither seen him nor felt him watching me. I wasn't sure whether I was grateful or annoyed over the lack of attention. I left the note for him on the coffee table among all the papers and articles I'd collected on the Fearless Five.

Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. Thanks again for the rescue the other night. Carmen.

It was terribly short, but for once, I hadn't known exactly what to write. What could you say to a superhero you'd slept with? Thank you? Atta-boy? Keep up the good work? Striker had been unbelievably kind to me, despite the fact I was trying to uncover his ident.i.ty, despite the fact I'd driven his friend to commit suicide. Despite everything. Words couldn't express how grateful I was for my rescue. Perhaps what I was about to do would. It might even help my karma a little bit. Maybe I'd come back as a bird or a b.u.t.terfly, instead of a c.o.c.kroach.

I grabbed my supplies and stuffed them in my jacket pockets. I let out a long breath.

Time to go to work.

I took a taxi to the park, got out, paid the fare, and checked my silver watch. Eleven forty-five. Right on time. I walked slowly through the park and scanned the shadows. But my friendly neighborhood ubervillains were nowhere to be found. I kept my hands in my pockets, made my way to the appropriate bench, and sat down.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I whispered.

The birds didn't sing, the bugs didn't chirp. All was quiet and still and hushed, but they were out there in the shadows watching me. I could feel their eyes on me.

At exactly midnight, they appeared. Scorpion lumbered out of the shadows to my left. His bald head gleamed under the faint moonlight. He cracked his knuckles together and grinned. Frost appeared from the right and crossed his arms over his skinny chest. Malefica came at me straight on, her enormous, thigh-high red boots crus.h.i.+ng the dewy gra.s.s with every step like she was Bigfoot lumbering through the forest.

"Well, well, if it isn't our good friend, Carmen Cole," Malefica purred. "Right on time. I do so like punctual people."

I shrugged. "It's a habit of mine."

She turned to Frost. "You owe me a hundred thousand dollars. He didn't think you'd come. Didn't think you were smart enough to realize it was your only option. Or that you had the spine to show up."

"Really?" I said. "And here I thought he didn't have a brain."

"I have more of a brain than you've ever dreamed of," Frost snapped back. "I've been educated in the finest schools on the East Coast. Where did you graduate from? Hillbilly High?"

KarmaGirl.

"Enough," Malefica interrupted. "We all know why we're here. Let's get down to business. Your month is up, Miss Cole. What I want to know is this-did you find out the answer to my question?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"So you know who Striker is?" Breathy excitement colored Malefica's voice. "His true ident.i.ty?"

"Yep. I know his name, age, marital status, and shoe size. It's eleven and a half, if you're curious. I know just about everything about him except whether he prefers boxers or briefs. Is that enough information for you?" Striker liked to go commando under his black leather suit, but I wasn't about to share that little tidbit with Malefica.

She licked her ruby red lips in antic.i.p.ation. "Who? Who is he?"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to tell you."

Malefica laughed. The gleeful chuckle grated on my nerves. "Oh please. You're going to tell us. Either now, when you can still pa.s.s for a moderately attractive woman, or later, after Frost has dipped you in his freezeterium like an overgrown Easter egg."

The three of them started toward me.

"Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you." I took my right hand out of my pocket, exposing a small metal tube. A blue light glowed on top of the device.

Malefica's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"It's a remote-trigger device," I said. "A bomb switch, in layman's terms. You see, I've rigged myself, this bench, and the entire area where you're standing with enough explodium to kill us all."

The three ubervillains looked at the ground beneath their booted feet.

"You're bluffing," Frost sneered.

I turned my gaze to him. "No, actually I'm not. I'm not much of a scientist like you, but I've learned quite a bit about explodium in the last few days. It's a radioactive isotope. Makes dynamite look like a firecracker. Packs enough punch to take down entire city blocks with just a few ounces. Just imagine what it would do to those icy good looks of yours. Shatter them in an instant, I imagine."

Frost gave me a, well, frosty look. Scorpion clenched and unclenched his hands into giant fists, as though he wanted to pound me into oblivion.

"Did I mention that any move on your part, one way or the other, and the bomb goes off? The whole area is wired. If I let go of this trigger, the bomb goes off. If I so much as sneeze, the bomb goes off."

"So much for your brilliant plan," Frost hissed at Malefica. "Your little pet project is going to blow us to h.e.l.l and back!"

"Shut up!" Malefica plastered a bright smile on her face. "Miss Cole, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. There's no need to get violent."

I arched an eyebrow. "Really? What sort of arrangement? Let me guess. You're going to offer me money and power and all the usual perks, right? Perhaps even offer to make me some sort of partner in your evil empire. Then, of course, when my guard is down and you no longer have any use for me, you'll shove me into one of those vats or come up with some equally clever and painful way of killing me. Sorry. I've read that story before. I don't like the ending."

Malefica's green eyes grew as hard as marbles. "Pity. I would have so enjoyed double-crossing you. I guess I'll just have to settle for killing you now."

Her eyes began to glow. She rose into the air, using her telekinesis to move out of range of the bomb.

She sailed through the air and set herself down forty feet away. Malefica raised her hands, picked up Scorpion and Frost with her mind, and put them down near her next to the wooden swing set. It KarmaGirl.

happened in seconds.

Something tugged on me, and a giant, invisible fist tried to pull the bomb trigger out of my hand. I yanked my hand back, but the invisible fist was stronger. It pried my fingers open and closed itself around the trigger. I swiped at it, but the device dodged my grasp. The trigger floated through the air until it was in Frost's line of sight.