Heroine Complex (18 page)

Sooooo
not the time,
I reminded the fire.

“Fine,” I said, curling and flexing my fingers. “Since nothing made it out of the store, they aren't pressing charges—as long as they can release you into the custody of a responsible adult.” I pointed to myself. “Responsible adult, right here. Let's go.”

I headed for exit, hoping they would follow me without protest.

As I pushed open the door, I was instantly aware of two things: Nate diving in front of me and a brilliant flash of light. I squinted, momentarily blinded. The brightly colored blurs surrounding me resolved themselves into people-like shapes. Including one particularly vibrant shape in a yellow dress.

“We spread the word about Aveda Jupiter doing a little shopping and whaddya know? The fans decided to congregate,” Maisy said, shoving a mini digital video recorder in my face.

Shasta stood next to her, her red lipstick a smug slash across her face.

And around them a mob of people had closed in on
the otherwise benign Nordstrom shoe department. A buzz swept through the crowd. I tried to retreat, backing into the security office, but Bea was already pressed up behind me.

“What's going on?” she bleated.

Nate turned to Maisy. “I told you, Marley: Aveda was just leaving,” he said. His hand found the small of my back.

“It's Maisy,” Shasta corrected.

“No need to protect me, Nathaniel,” a voice called out behind me. “I'm always happy to greet my glorious public.”

And then Aveda Jupiter—the real one—was pushing her way out from behind me, half-walking, half-hobbling into the spotlight of Maisy's recorder. A delighted murmur rippled through the crowd and I was nearly blinded again by the flash of several dozen phone cameras.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I turned to Nate, hoping that some kind of resolution to this disaster in the making would be reflected in his dark eyes. But his gaze remained locked on Aveda. I scanned the crowd for Lucy and caught a glimpse of a lacy dress flitting through the far right corner of the crowd. Probably trying to find an alternate exit.

Silence had overtaken the crowd, all of whom seemed to be hypnotized by Aveda's charisma. They were waiting to see what she would do next. A sickly feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Oh em gee,” Bea murmured. “She is legit cray-cray.”

I turned to respond and was instantly silenced by two things: the fact that Bea was now clutching Aveda's still-very-necessary crutches, and the look of flat-out admiration on her face. Apparently, “legit cray-cray” was my baby sister's ultimate role model.

“Aveda-girl!” squealed Maisy. “Give your pal Maisy a little ol' scoop! What are you doing at the Nordstrom security office? We heard you were shopping.” She gave
me a disdainful look. “But surely there's more to it than that.”

“It's all very top secret,” Aveda said. “Which is why I'm wearing this ridiculous disguise.” She preened as more phone cameras went off.

“You look amazing,” breathed Maisy. “But come now, give your fans a hint!”

Aveda took off her sunglasses and gave the crowd a dazzling smile.

“I'll just say one thing,” she said.

The crowd seemed to lean in as one, hanging on her every word.

“Nordstrom may be home to a great many delicious clothes. But even the yummiest of sweater sets have their
demons
.”

She punctuated that with a broad wink.

The crowd contemplated this for a few moments before letting loose with a titillated murmur.

“What does that even mean?” I sputtered. “I think Aveda's quip skills are out of practice.”

“Forget that,” hissed Nate. “We have to get her out of here. And keep her from hurting herself further in the process.”

“All right, all right,” I grumbled. “Let me handle this.”

I took a deep breath, brushed my sickly feeling aside, and marched over to Aveda.

“This hat is remarkably useful for demon-hunting,” Aveda was telling Maisy. “The wide brim forces you to focus.”

I clamped a hand on Aveda's arm. She tried to jerk away, but I held on tight.

“No more questions for Miss Jupiter,” I said. “She has to . . .”

BANG!

BANG BANG!

Before I could figure out what, exactly, Aveda had to do, that sound pierced the air, a harsh triple-knock that
shocked everyone into silence. I whirled around, searching the crowd for the source.

BANG!

It appeared to be coming from . . . the piano? The usually benevolent Nordstrom piano perched by the escalator?

Seriously, what
now
?

The piano lid flung itself open and a blurry gray blob flew out and landed with a wet
splat
on the keyboard. It squashed against a few of the keys, producing a dissonant pseudo-chord.

“What is that?” someone shrieked. “Save us, Aveda!”

Keeping a firm grip on Aveda's arm, I moved closer to the piano, trying to get a better look, then instinctively looked up, searching for a portal. But there was nothing. Only this one gross thing, terrorizing the crowd and making a bad situation even worse.

“Demon?” Aveda murmured.

“It's . . . a hand,” I said, scrutinizing the blob. “A really disgusting hand.”

The thing was all pockmarked and desiccated-looking, its wrist a jagged stump ringed with dried blood. Each finger was topped by a yellowed claw.

Before anyone could congratulate me on my astounding powers of observation, the hand popped itself into the air and landed on its fingertips atop the keyboard. I noticed it had a strange mark on the index finger: a crude black line with four hash marks through it. A tattoo, maybe? Were tattoos big in the severed hand community?

A hush fell over the crowd as the hand thing stilled. Everyone was frozen in place, waiting to see what it would do next. Even Maisy was quiet.

The hand uncurled its index finger. The movement was rickety and labored, as if each joint needed a moment to adjust. As if it couldn't quite figure out what movement was.

My mouth went dry. It was that same type of movement I'd grown all too used to the past few days. Lurchy, zombie-like.

It was like the Aveda statues.

It was like Tommy.

It was . . . what was it?

The hand depressed one of the piano keys, producing a clear C note that rang out through the silence of the store. Then it started to play. Its movements were still lurchy, but it jerked itself over the full length of the keyboard, coaxing a lilting melody to life. There was something eerily familiar about the tune, but I couldn't quite place it.

It definitely wasn't “Eternal Flame.”

“What the . . .” I muttered.

“Never fear, citizens! I'll take care of this!” Aveda bellowed, wrenching out of my grasp. She wobbled forward and I grabbed her arm again.

“Stop that,” I hissed. “You can barely walk. Just let me—”

“Let you what?”

Before I could respond, the hand spun around and launched itself into the air, aiming directly for Aveda's neck.

I didn't think. I just leaped in front of her.

The hand landed against my neck with a
slap
, its fingers wrapping around my throat. It felt like Jell-O, cold and slick and gloppy, pressing into my windpipe with such force that white spots exploded around the edge of my vision. I was dimly aware of someone screaming, of someone yelling my name. I fell to my knees, my fingers clawing at the hand wrapped around my throat, trying to pry myself free from the Jell-O Fingers of Steel. I was dimly aware of Nate- and Lucy-shaped blobs moving toward me, but a shimmery film rose up in front of them, a thin wall of glassy material that looked like bubble solution. It wrapped itself around me, forming a dome that closed me off from everyone else. I gasped for breath,
desperate for a little bit of oxygen. For air-like sustenance. For anything at all.

“Force field . . . like at the Yamato . . .”

“Can
see
this one . . . ”

“No way in . . . we have to . . .”

“She's choking . . .”

I heard snippets from Nate and Lucy piercing their way through the bubble surrounding me.

“God . . . damn . . . it,” I choked out, rage swelling inside of me.

Let it out,
a little voice piped up in my head.
Remember how you suppressed it just now? With Bea and Aveda? Let. It. Out.

My palm heated. I let the rage flood through me, drowning out everything else. I pressed my hand against the cold blob on my neck and felt its fingers loosen, a shocked response to that brush of warmth.

Okay,
I thought at the fire,
you've got to come out slowly. So I don't incinerate my neck.

I focused on my rage, focused on my palm, focused on channeling all my feelings in that one direction. The hand's fingers loosened further around my neck. I seized the opportunity and yanked hard, pulling it off me.

Now,
I thought at the fire.
Now, now, now.

I sent my fire blazing into the gloppy thing and flung it away from me just as it burst into flames. The bubble prison vanished.

I scrambled to my feet, gulping in mouthfuls of sweet, sweet oxygen. The hand of flames careened through the air with an ominous
whoosh
, flying dangerously close to Maisy, grabbing at her yellow skirt. She shrieked and batted at it. I made it over to her just as she managed to knock the hand to the floor. It disintegrated into a pile of smoking dust.

“Maisy!” I grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?” I gave her hand a quick once-over. There were no red marks, but a few bits of skin seemed to be flaking off, slightly
discolored. Shit, had she been burned? Guilt stabbed at me. “Let me help you with—”

“I'm just fine, Rude Girl,” she said, snatching her hand back. She held up her other hand. Which, of course, still contained that damn digital recorder. “Care to explain what you just did?”

“Yeah, care to explain?” echoed Shasta.

I swallowed hard. The reality I'd managed to block out the moment the hand wrapped itself around my neck came crashing back in and I realized the entire crowd was staring at me, goggle-eyed.

I'd just used “Aveda's” new power. No glamour, no disguises, no ridiculous boots. Just me. As myself. In public.

“Uh.” I thought fast. “It's this . . . new facet of Aveda's power. Wherein she's able to temporarily transfer it to others. We just discovered it and I was trying it out. Temporarily.”

“That's right,” Aveda said, shuffling up next to me. A way-too-sweet smile was plastered across her face. “And I'd be delighted to share more about that right now—”

“Um, no,” I said. Was she high? “We need to go.”

“As you know, Evie, I have all the time in the world for my fans.” Aveda said. She turned to Maisy. “Sorry, my assistant is so protective.”

“Really, Aveda, we must leave.” I placed a firm hand on her arm. “We have to get out of here, regroup, figure out what that thing was,” I hissed in her ear. I cast a sidelong glance at the pile of ashes on the floor. Maybe there was something in there we could dissect. “Not to mention the fact that you're putting your health—and your reputation—in danger.”

“No need for histrionics,” Aveda hissed back, attempting to pull out of my grasp. “I know you've gotten used to being in the spotlight, but you need to remember who the real Aveda Jupiter is.”

“As if you'd ever let me forget.”

“Ladies, can you speak up, please?” Maisy shoved the recorder under our noses, eager grin in place. But underneath it, I saw a flash of something else: raw hunger for a story. The sense that there was something bigger going on and she could be the one to let the world know about it. For all her faults, Maisy was really good at being nosy.

“I'm going to have to ask you to stop filming.” I put a hand in front of her recorder. “Any interview time with Aveda needs to be scheduled through our press office.”

“I'm okaying it,” Aveda said. “It's fine.”

“It is
not
fine,” I insisted.

“Freedom of the blogs!” cried Shasta. “We will have our say!”

“Shush, Shast,” Maisy said. “We don't need to take that tone with our good friend Aveda.”

“She is not your good friend!” I said, exasperated.

“I'm everyone's friend!” protested Aveda, wrenching free from my grasp. “Friend to all fans: that's my new slogan. Make a note so we can get T-shirts made.”

“You aren't even a friend to your
friends
!” I yelped, my frustration boiling over. “You blatantly ignore their advice, manipulate them into doing your bidding, then act like an idiot child when the half-baked plan you came up with actually starts to work.”

Aveda's expression shifted, her eyes turning to pure ice. “You need to remember your place.”

“Really?” I retorted. “Because it sure seems like I'm doing a damn good job taking yours.”

“Aveda,” Maisy said, her forehead crinkling, “what does that mean? And are you limping?”

“Evie.” I heard Nate's warning voice behind me. But I just wanted Aveda to stop bulldozing and listen.

“You wouldn't have been able to take down that severed hand
thing
,” I hissed under my breath. “Not the way I just did.”

“How dare you—”

“Shut up!” I balled my fists at my sides. “Just shut up
and listen. And for once in your life, give me just a little bit of fucking credit for cleaning up your mess.”

She hopped away from me and put her hands on her hips, arranging her features into their usual imperious configuration. But I noticed the spark of panic in her eyes.

“Really, Evie,” she said. “I'll give you a raise if that's what you want. You don't need to throw a tantrum about it.” She flashed me a big, fake smile. “You're a very competent assistant.”