Supergirl (4 page)

The Coffer of Shadow.

"Ahhh." Selena sighed contentedly. The darling little ugly thing. How sweetly repulsive! How delightfully sickening! It was an ornate, complex box made of dead birds, chicken bones, and various other foul matters. Just as she had cleverly thought, it was exactly the right size for—oh, dear, what should she call this little toy in her arms? The Thing? The It? The Presence? Never mind. A thing by any other name . . . She closed the cover of the Coffer of Shadow over the Omegahedron.

"You called me?" Bianca trotted into the room. Where Selena wore white, Bianca wore black. Where Selena was tall and regal, Bianca was short, chunky, and loyal. "I figure," she said, waving around her cigarette holder, "the only way we're gonna, like, pay our bills next month is, like, just go ahead and, you know, start our own coven."

"No longer necessary."

"I was reading in this book, the
Witchs' Basic Guide
, that if you, like, start a coven, you can charge five bucks a head admission."

"Chicken feed," Selena said, starting for the refrigerator.

"Where's little Nigel?" Bianca followed her.

"Nigel, my dear Bianca is—history. . . . The water department and their nasty bills are history. The car payments are history. The mortgage payments are history."

"How about the property taxes?"

"History." Gripping the Coffer of Shadow in one hand, Selena rummaged in the refrigerator with the other.

Bianca stared at her bemusedly. "We won the lottery? We finally hit it? We got lucky?"

"Luck" Selena chuckled serenely. "
Bad
luck. I—have—been—chosen. The Powers of Darkness at long last have come to their senses."

High above the earth, Supergirl flew through the night. Her flight was steadier than her daytime flight, less ebullient, less playful, but strong and satisfying, and in some ways even more enchanting than the looping, swooping play with the sun. This was private, intense, almost prayerful, a flight in which she spoke to the night and it answered her. She flew over the great silver shields of lakes, over long strings of jeweled highways, and the glowing night skyscrapers of Chicago . . .

Later . . . much later . . . a deserted street in the small town of Midvale, the stores shuttered, the only light a pale glow from a streetlamp. The silence of a town at rest . . . then Supergirl landing in the middle of the street, lightly and gracefully. Tired now, wondering where she was going to sleep. She had hardly eaten all day. And when was she going to start thinking seriously about her life here? She couldn't just fly her way through the days, mindless as a bird. And just then, as if to remind her of the seriousness of her quest, on her wrist Zaltar's berry bracelet flickered to life. Supergirl's heart quickened. That meant only one thing. The Omegahedron was nearby.

Using her super-vision, she scanned the buildings in the area and then along the side streets. But the bracelet dimmed and she saw nothing useful. Disappointed, she leaned against a wall, only to have her super-hearing pick up a faint, thin sound, an unearthly music, inaudible to human ears, but which could only be the Omegahedron. She felt that it was calling her, beseeching her. Again, she scanned the buildings, racing through the rooms with her super-vision, searching for the precious Power Source. Nothing. And the sound, like the dim glow in the berry bracelet, had disappeared . . . to be replaced by the heavy beat of footsteps.

Two men swaggered toward her. "This, I like," the taller one said.

"Hello," Supergirl said. The Sixth Guardian Commandment. Thou shall be polite to strangers.

The taller of the two men elbowed his friend. " 'Hello,' she says"

Supergirl was glad to see them. In Argo City, the rare stranger was a welcome treat. "Could you please tell me where I am?"

"Why not?" the tall one said. "What do they call this place, Eddie? Lovers Lane?"

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie said intelligently.

They circled around her.

"I was wondering, what are all those lights down there—" Supergirl began.

The tall one flipped up her cape. "Eddie. Check out the view from back here."

Supergirl pulled away. "Please, stop that:'

"Hey, Ron, she thinks she's Superman's little sister."

Supergirl, who had started to feel the tiniest bit uncomfortable, said earnestly, "No, I'm his cousin. I've come here to search for the Omegahedron." She turned, as they continued to circle her. "It's a Power Source vital to Argo City, where I live."

"Noooo kidding." Ron winked at Eddie. "Me and Eddie, here, we're out on a secret mission, too" Eddie nodded agreement. "We're out looking for a good time." He wrapped his hand in her hair.

Supergirl backed away, straight into Eddie, who wound his arms around her. "Gotcha!"

"Hey, mine," Ron said.

"Saw her first!"

Oh, now, this was not very nice of them. Supergirl snapped out her arms, breaking Eddie's hold. He staggered back, flailing for balance.

"Oh, ho, ho, ho, she works out," Ron said. "I love a challenge."

"Why are you doing this?" Supergirl said.

"We like to play, don't you?" Eddie moved toward her, grinning, saliva in the corners of his mouth. Supergirl drew in an irritated breath and released it. Super-breath! Eddie tumbled backward, slamming into a wall.

Ron shook his head at Eddie's incompetence, then clicked open a switchblade knife. Holding it delicately in the palm of his hand, he danced around Supergirl. "Now, now, now," he said, "enough of this . . . you gotta be good!"

Supergirl definitely did not like these two men. Are all the men around here like this? Couldn't be. These two just needed a little lesson in manners. She concentrated . . . focused her heat vision on the narrow shining blade of the knife. The metal softened . . . bent . . . and melted into a puddle at Ron's feet. He stared at the puddle, his mouth open, then at his empty hand, and again at the puddle of metal.

Eddie was on his feet again, mad as a dog. Some
girl
slamming
him
into a wall? Noooo way, José! He snarled and charged Supergirl. Her foot flashed up faster than the speed of light. A tremendous kick—and this time Eddie went flying up to crash-land in a tree.

Supergirl turned back to Ron.

He backed away, trying for a sincere, friendly smile. "It was all Eddie's idea."

Eddie decided to join the conversation and fell out of the tree.

Supergirl stepped over him. It was getting dull here. Up she went, skyward, dust and papers swirling in her wake, a slender, red-caped figure disappearing into the dark night sky.

Ron stood looking after her for a long time. Then he turned to Eddie, who was still lying on the ground. "I say we keep this to ourselves. What do you think?"

A strange question to ask Eddie, who rarely thought. And now definitely wasn't the time to start changing his habits. He hurt too much to even think of thinking.

In Selena's happy home, a party was under way. Someone peering in from the outside, someone not privy to Selena's world, might have thought it a costume party. How else explain the outlandish getups, the weird makeup, the eccentric hair styles, the rapid buzz of talk about arcane matters? But for the party-goers, who danced singly or together, who charged through Selena's food like a horde of locusts, who chugalugged her wine like water, the way they dressed was the way they dressed. And the way they talked and ate and thought was also the way they talked and ate and thought. No put-on, man. The straight (pardon the expression) stuff.

Selena, the gracious source of all the food and drink, sat slightly above everyone on a garish carnival throne, sipping a glass of foaming wine.
Look at them . . . bunch of pigs. . . swilling at the trough . . . if they only knew . . .

"Where is it?" Nigel said, not for the first time. "Where's the little mystery ball?" Hoping to get back into Selena's good graces, he'd been sticking close to her all evening. "Just let me have a peek," he said, with what he fondly believed to be a persuasive smile. "Maybe I can shed some light."

"I hate light."

"Is it electrical? Is it hot to the touch? Is it animal, mineral, or vegetable? Just tell me where it is."

"It's safe and sound. Go mix," Selena ordered. "Leave me to my thoughts." She liked how royal, imperious and, well,
profound
, that sounded.
Leave me to my thoughts
. She tipped her cheek into her hand thoughtfully.

"Go mix? With these people? You must be mad," Nigel said. "Who are they, anyway? Bunch of wrinkly little wretches."

"They," Selena said, in her most royal voice, "are my loyal foot soldiers." She gave him a long-lidded glance, letting that sink in. She sipped her wine and thought of the future. A wine cellar. Two-hundred-year-old French vinafera wine. Her personal wine steward, who did nothing but care for her wine cellar and bring her the proper wines for each meal. He'd be just one of dozens of servants who would scurry around doing her bidding.

"If," she said significantly, "I am on to even half of what I think I am on to, then I am on to twice as much as—" She stopped, mid-sentence. Did that make sense? If I am on to even half of what I think I am on to, then I am on to twice as much as . . . Hmmmm.

"Twice as much as—?" Nigel said encouragingly.

"Me to know and you to find out," Selena said, a little more juvenile than royal. Recovering herself, she gave Nigel a haughty glance. "I," she said, getting down to the nitty-gritty, "am considering nothing less than world domination" On your knees, knave! Beg for my mercy!

Nigel snickered, the turd.

"World domination?" His eyes brightened as he saw a way to give Selena the old shafteroo. "With this circus? Selena, my sweetness, for those of us dedicated to evil, there are time-honored ways to do things, centuries-old rules to follow, and I'm the one who can—"

Selena rose. Forget it, Nigel. You are not the one
who can
— anything!
I
am the one, the only one, the one and only. She pushed her way through the crowd.

Nigel followed her. "Selena, I have a see-cret"

"How exciting for you, Nigel. Better write it down before the little pointy head forgets it."

Nigel ignored Selena's sarcasm. He was a Man. He could take it on his broad shoulders. "After you left me in the lurch," he said, manfully suppressing the quiver that threatened at the memory, "I saw something that should worry you" He waited. "It should worry you
GREATLY
.'' Still, no reaction. He played his last card. "Selena, my secret—" He looked around, lowered his voice. "My secret was blue and red, and it knew how to fly!"

"I have a secret, too, Nigel," Selena said. "Superman doesn't impress me." She spoke in measured tones. "I have the
Power
. Get—that—through—your—fat—head! Selena doesn't worry. Let the rest of the world worry. The shoe is on the other hand." She glared at him. "Don't you dare say a word! I know what I said! I said what I said because I wanted to say it, and when I'm in charge of the world, everyone will say, The shoe is on the other hand! All of them, all the ones who mocked me when my chips were down."

"Selena, I'm telling you, you need me." He pulled out his platinum cigarette case and stuck a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

"Don't count on it." Selena touched the tip of his cigarette with her finger, lighting it.

Nigel smiled briefly. "In my time, I have seen a great many things more impressive than a human cigarette lighter, dear Selena. To wit." He flashed his cigarette case in front of her.

Selena stared at her reflection. Yes, it was she, beautiful as always, but . . . but what . . . ? What was that shape, that shadow, behind her reflection? Something . . . dark . . . and swange . . . repulsive . . . even hideous . . .

She laughed uncertainly. "Nigel? What is that?"

"Overreaching ambition, dear Selena. Take heed."

Furious, she knocked the cigarette case out of his hand.

"Oooh, touched a tiny nerve, didn't I?" Delighted to have gained the upper hand for once, Nigel wandered off. He took two wineglasses off a tray and sat down next to a pretty young girl who was casting tarot cards.

"The red toad, Virginia," he said, raising his eyebrows lustfully, "which lives in briars and brambles, is full of sorceries and capable of won-derful things." He handed her one of the wineglasses. "There is a little bone in its left side—"

"A little bone?" she said in a little voice.

To Nigel's intense pleasure, Selena had followed him. She hovered nearby, casting evil glances at Virginia. "A little bone which, if bound to a man, stirs up the greatest—"

"I want to be rich and famous," she said in her little voice.

"Stick with me, baby." Nigel leaned closer. "Shall we go somewhere else and, ah, dance?"

Smoke trailed out of Selena's nostrils. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, focusing on the drink in Virginia's hand. A scorpion edged out of the foamy drink, scuttled up Virginia's arm and disappeared into her mouth. She clutched her throat and began spinning wildly around the room.

"That's disgusting, Selena," Nigel said. "Fifth-grade show-off stuff."

Smoke flared out of Selena's nostrils.

Virginia did a triple backward flip, then spun on her head like a top. The guests gathered round, applauding. "I hear she was a smash in Des Moines," someone said.

"I like it," Bianca said approvingly, studying the spinning girl from several angles. "Very different. It's got possibilities."

"Release her," Nigel ordered.

"Make me," Selena hissed.

They stared at each other. Nigel's eyes burned into Selena's . . . burned . . . burned . . . He broke into a sweat. For once, just this once, Selena . . . not, not your way . . . no . . . no . . .
NOOOoooooo
. . .

Virginia went crashing through the canvas backdrop of the fat lady in the pink tutu, her head displacing the fat lady's head.

Now Selena had had it! Nigel's tampering with her witchcraft was too much. She pointed. "Out. Out of my house, viper. And don't come slithering back, or I'll have you vaporized."