Lady Superior (37 page)

Kristen caught the ball of paper and uncrumpled it. She began to read what was written there, but Bernice leapt from her chair and tore it away, continuing. “Good news is he might be willing to let you use the name. Bad news is he won’t do it unless he meets you.”

“Oh, that’s not bad. Sure, I can go say hello or whatever.”

“He wants to meet
you
you.”

“
Me
me?”

“Kris. Not the Wigless Wonder.”

“Oh.” Kristen let her eyes wander across the office as she thought about it. She didn’t know him at all; bringing him in on it seemed silly and reckless. “Why does he want to meet me?”

“These characters he has are important to him. For Harry, this would be like giving someone else your baby. He wants to know it’s going to good people.”

“Do you think I should do it?”

Bernice spread her hands. “You know me. I’m in it for the dollars. Harry’d make bank off of this, too. I don’t think he’d talk. But if you’re going to do it, you have to do it soon. Maiden Milwaukee’s in the spotlight after what happened downtown, and that spotlight could go out any minute. It’ll be awhile before we can get a book to print, but I could commission an artist and get a promo out probably in two or three days. Posters or something. A placeholder website.”

Kristen tapped her lips. “Is Kerplow still releasing that crappy knock-off you showed me? Cream City Whatever?”

“Crusader.” Bernice nodded. “Advance retailer copies came in last Tuesday. The real deal hits the shelves next Tuesday.”

“How soon can I meet him?”

“Let me make a call.”

In half an hour’s time, Kristen and Bernice were walking the dimly lit hall of an old apartment complex. The carpeting, formerly white, was yellowed and stained, slipping and rippling where it had come loose from the adhesive underneath. Just in time for her move, Kristen felt appreciation for Green Grove. Bernice counted the numbers on the doors in Spanish at a whisper, finally stopping at Harry’s apartment. She looked to Kristen. “Ready?”

“I guess so.”

Bernice knocked on the door. Kristen heard movement inside the apartment and the slow shuffling of feet. Bernice mustn’t have heard it, because she moved to knock again. Kristen pushed her hand down. “He’s coming.”

“How do you know?”

“Might be a Lady Superior thing. Or you might be deaf. I dunno.”

The door swung open. Harold Kleczka stood before them, short and withered with skin like worn parchment paper, his wispy white hair arranged in a poor excuse for a comb-over. Despite his obvious age, his blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. “Oh, Bernie. Come on in. You can introduce me to your friend.”

He shuffled back to let the ladies inside. Kristen looked around the small apartment, trying to take it all in at once. Though clean and orderly, the walls were covered in posters, scrolls, and artwork—some she recognized as his art from the books Bernice had shown her, others she recognized from books she’d read herself or indie portfolios she’d seen online. Superheroes, knights, wizards, and other nerd paraphernalia. He still had an old CRT television in his living room—she thought of Tara when she saw it—but a desk in the corner boasted what appeared to be a perfectly modern computer tower, two flatscreen monitors, and a digital drawing tablet.

“Harry,” Bernice began, motioning to Kristen, “this is…her.”

Harry smiled at Kristen, his hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans. He stood with a slight hunch to his back. “Well, Bernice knows better than to give away a secret identity. You’re the one who wants to be Lady Superior. Is that right?”

“That’s right.” Kristen peeled off her blonde wig and her hands began shaking. Her stomach fluttered, but she made herself keep talking. “My name’s Kris. I mean, Kristen. Anderson.”

Harry took a step back and sized her up. “You look tough, Kristen. I like that.”

Kristen glanced at Bernice, then back to Harry. “Thanks?”

He pulled his hands from his pocket and extended one halfway. “How about a handshake? I warn you, I have quite the grip.”

Kristen forced a laugh and offered her hand for a shake. “Do you watch the news? I think I can handle a handshake.”

“Try not to break an old man’s bones.”

Harry clapped his hand to Kristen’s and they shook once. He kept her hand in his grip and looked her in the eyes. She looked down at their hands, uncomfortable, then back up to meet his gaze. He held it for a moment that felt like an eternity before releasing her hand. His smile grew wider. “Oh, yes. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. I think you can fill Lady Superior’s shoes just fine.”

Again, Kristen looked to Bernice. She just shrugged. “Waiting for me?” Kristen asked.

Harry shuffled toward his desk. “I’d like to show you two something.”

Curious now, Kristen followed behind him. He sat in his chair and tapped his mouse to dismiss the plain black screensaver. Kristen leaned over his right shoulder, Bernice over his left, both peering at the computer screen. A slideshow program opened to a comic book cover emblazoned with LADY SUPERIOR ISSUE NO. 1 and artwork of Kristen against the Milwaukee skyline. Kristen felt her mouth fall open. The artwork was her—she recognized herself and the artist’s rendition of her features in it. The Lady Superior there wore a blue suit of woven material—recognizable as antiballistics fabric—with a red triquetra on her left breast. The art was unlike anything Bernice had shown her. The lines were clean and crisp, lacking any sign of a rough, trembling hand. The style was modern, not trapped in the Silver Age.

“You found an artist already?” Bernice asked.

Harry laughed, hoarse and breathy. “I sure did. He’s sitting in this chair right now!”

“Harry, honey, you know I love you, but that’s not your work.”

“Cross my heart, Bernie. I never lost my touch. I lost my inspiration. Try to carry forward a memory too long and you start to wonder if it ever had a point to begin with.”

Kristen looked across Harry to Bernice. “Did you tell him about the symbol?”

“Did I?” Bernice looked at Harry.”

“You might have.” He shrugged. “Don’t honestly remember. It seemed right.”

Bernice and Kristen shared a puzzled look and turned back to the screen in unison. Harry clicked his mouse and the slide changed. He clicked again and again, flipping through complete, color pages of the entire first issue of the new
Lady Superior
. He didn’t give them time to read, and Kristen wasn’t sure she could at that moment. From the panels she saw, his story didn’t reflect what she knew of what had happened with Delphi and Nenet, but rather a version that might have been assembled from news, radio, or the newspaper. In fact, there was no Delphi, no Nenet—but there were villains with shapeshifters among them. She saw the ring—or rather, a ring—but the issue ended long before its purpose was discovered.

Kristen sucked in a breath when the last page passed, realizing she’d forgotten to breathe. “When did you make this?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I put in some long hours the last few days. I don’t think I’ll be putting in hours like that ever again, but like I just told Bernie, the inspiration hit me. I was working on designs for you a few weeks ago when you first popped up, then Bernie came asking about Lady Superior, and I made the pieces fit. I had a made-up story I was working on for you at first, but with what just happened, I think this is going to sell a lot better. Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Oh, you make an old man smile again, Kristen. I have a question for you, though.”

“Sure. Anything.”

Harry clicked one more time. The slideshow moved to THE RHINELANDER ISSUE NO. 1, and Harry turned to face her. “Have you met this guy yet?”

Kristen clapped a hand over her mouth and choked on her own laughter.

Chapter 17

Kristen drove Bernice back to Otherworlds so she could send Harry’s comic off to print. From there, she went home again, picking up a pizza and beer on the way. She shouldered into her apartment and swung into the kitchenette, unloading dinner onto the countertop. Emma was shoulder-deep in the refrigerator, shoving things around with a clatter. “Hey, Kris. I think you’re out of food.”

“I don’t think crawling inside my fridge is going to help you find anything.”

“We should order pizza.” Emma withdrew from the fridge and turned around. “Oh, cool. Pizza.”

Kristen lifted the pizza box with one finger and Emma stole a slice without hesitation. Only after she took a bite did she look at it, and with her mouth full, she asked “What’s on it?”

“Pretty much everything plus anchovies.”

“Pineapple?”

“No, because that’s disgusting.”

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Your mom’s face is disgusting.”

“My mom is your mom.”

“I stand by my statement.”

Emma grabbed a plate from the cupboard, snagged a couple more slices, and flounced back to the living room.

Kristen rolled her eyes and grabbed a slice of her own. “Do you want a beer?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then come get it.”

“Seriously?” Emma sighed and returned to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and dislodging the cap with a flip of her thumb. “Some host you are.”

Kristen waited for Emma to take a swig before speaking to avoid a spit-take. She lowered her voice, trying to sound gentle. “It’s been a couple of days, Emma. I think we should talk about what happened.”

Emma retreated to the couch, pretending she hadn’t heard. Kristen hopped up to sit on the countertop, using the top of the pizza box as her plate. “I know you heard me, Emma. I’m being serious. We can’t pretend none of this happened.”

 “Yes. We can,” Emma snapped. “And we’re going to. I’m just a normal girl sitting around in her pajamas and watching TV. That’s who I am. That’s what I do. Nothing happened. There’s nothing else to it.”

Kristen rubbed her forehead. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. I just want us to talk about this, just the two of us.”

“That’s doing something. And I’m not doing it.”

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

Emma threw her hand out, beer sloshing out the mouth of her bottle. “You didn’t tell me. I figured it out when I saw you on TV, and I only knew it was you because I know I’m me.”

Kristen shouted back. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know. When you knew, you should’ve told me.”

“This conversation is stupid. I’m done. Let me eat.”

Kristen slid off the counter and moved to sit on the couch. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m just trying to understand.”

Emma put her beer on the floor and sank forward, arms on her knees. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason I always pretend to be asleep when something’s going wrong. Same reason I never fight back—and didn’t fight back. Same reason I hated that I didn’t die when they shot me. Now that someone knows, I can never go back.”

“Go back to what?”

“Not being what I am.”

“Emma, look. I was afraid of what I am for a long time, too. You wondered why I dropped out of school. You thought I was crazy for walking away from scholarships and getting out of sports. This is why. I knew they’d figure it out. Maybe they wouldn’t figure it out, but I’d get overexcited on the field and kill someone. I let my life go to hell because I was scared. But now I know what I can do, and what I could have been doing all along. I can do good.”

Emma turned to face her. “Why aren’t you a cop?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you a cop?” she repeated.

“I’m basically a superhero now, so…”

Emma shook her head. “You’re not understanding me. Okay, sure. You’re a superhero or whatever now. But you used to want to be an athlete. Why not a cop?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why don’t you fight fires? Why aren’t you a paramedic? Why isn’t everyone a cop? Everyone could be a cop.”

“That’s debatable.”

Emma changed her mind about her beer. She picked it back up and took a swig. “Not everyone is a cop because not everyone wants to be a cop. Maybe some strong, healthy young guy who could be a cop decides to join the military instead. Or maybe he wants to go into IT instead. You decided to be a cop. I decided to go into IT.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. At least me, Emma. Or why you didn’t fight back. They kidnapped you, Emma. You could’ve gotten away whenever you wanted.”

Emma shook her head. “No, Kris. I still didn’t get away. You know now. Your friends probably know. All it takes is one person, and the secret’s no good anymore. Sooner or later, someone’s gonna open their mouth. Or they’re going to keep coming back to me, asking me to help, telling me I’m being selfish for staying out of it, blaming me for anything that goes wrong because I wasn’t there to do something about it. I can’t go back.”

“There’s only one, maybe two other people who know. One of them, I don’t know him very well, but he helped me. He didn’t have to, but he did. I trust him. The other one? He’s kind of…my partner, I guess. He has his own family that he loves. He understands that I love you. He won’t do anything to hurt you. You can be whatever you want to be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise anything like that.”

Kristen put her head down and brushed her hair back, frustration pulling her scalp taut. “Why Chad?”

Emma eyed her. “Why the change of subject? I mean…I don’t really want to talk about that other thing very much, but I’m afraid to ask why you went
there
.”

“I thought you stayed with him because you were afraid of him. You can’t be, though. Unless he knows. Does he know?”

Sighing, Emma put her back to the couch. “He doesn’t know. That’s half the problem. I get mad at him. When I get mad, I pretend to be asleep, or leave the house. I’m afraid I’ll fight back.”

“You think you’ll kill him?”

“No.” Emma leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t kill him. I love him, you know? But it’s only a sometimes thing. He’s not good, but there are days where he’s a nice person, and those days, I love him a lot.”