The Last Superhero (2 page)

“
But
you're dead.”

“
And
that's how I'd like to remain. Now go before I change my mind.”

Oooookay. I've had enough
creepy for one night.

I open my door and slide in.
He rushes into the house and disappears.

I can't make myself start
the car. I can't put the key in the ignition; it slips. This dude.
This guy. This man.

It can't be.

Some stupid kind of
determination gets a hold of me. The kind that drives people to walk
into a dark room to check on a weird noise and then the boogeyman
gets them.

He's going to murder me, I
know.

“
Fuck!”

I open the car door as slow
as I can, careful not to make a sound, step out, gulp some air.

What the fuck am I doing?
Getting myself killed, maybe?

A look at the house lit only
by the light from the street lamps filtered through the many trees
that surround it. It's old, dilapidated, and the ivy that covers the
walls isn't just for the fancy effect it gives. The thing's
overgrown.

Then I see it – a
plaque next to the gate through which he entered, covered by the ivy
and mush. I pull my coat sleeve to cover my hand, to uncover the
thing, to discover what lies underneath.

Waldorf
Manor
.

Oh. Shit.

Get back in the car and get
the fuck out of there.

I've either just hit jackpot
or written my own death sentence.

2

It's been a week since the
incident and I'm chatting with Daphne – my right-hand, store
clerk, and all around guardian angel who has worked here for free for
far longer than I care to admit – about hair colors. She's punk
and has purple and white streaks in her hair and keeps trying to
convince me about dyeing mine any color I choose from the rainbow.

“
I'm
trying to run a bookstore,” I reply.

Well,
it's not
my
bookstore, it's my mother's, but I'm the one who runs it for her
thanks to people like Daphne who believe the written word isn't dead.

Anyway, that's another
story.

“
Blue
would look perfect on you,” she says, eyeing the customer
that's just walked in. “It might help us attract a younger
crowd and less of those.” She nods the customer's way.

I give a jump.

“
Oh
fuck.”

“
What?”
Daphne frowns. She doesn't know.

She doesn't know the old
dude's back and he's here to kill me.

He glides through the
bookshelves, like some cat.

Shit.

“
I'll
be outside,” I say, rush through the back door.

He's on my tail and I hear
Daphne trying to stop him.

“
I
just want to talk,” he says once we've both made it outside,
closing the door on poor Daphne.

“
It's
okay, Daph, I've got it!” I cry, praying it makes it through
the door seams and to her. Address him, “You don't want her
calling the police.”

He opens the door again and
there's Daphne holding her phone to her face.

“
It's
okay,” I tell her, my arms crossed over my chest to hide my
trembling. “He's a friend of Mom's.”

“
Oh,”
Daphne lowers her phone.

“
I'll
be back in ten.”

She shuts the door.

This is it. This is where I
die. Next to the dumpster. So classy.

“
Please
make it quick.” My voice quivers, breaks. “And don't let
Daphne see my dead body, she's squeamish.”

“
What?!”

“
Look,
I didn't tell the police it was you, just some Good Samaritan that
then ran off. The surveillance cameras haven't worked for years, so
there's no evidence.” It's difficult to speak, but I push
through. At least let me explain myself before he kills me off.

His brows furrow, every time
a little deeper.

“
The
guy's in the hospital. He has no family or anything so no one will
miss him.” I can hear him breathing hard. “And I think
you should know I'm an only child and this bookstore is my mother's,
so maybe you'd like to dump my body somewhere they can't find me.”

“
What
the fuck are you going on about?”

“
You're
here to kill me, aren't you?”

“
I'm
not.” He looks around, exasperated.

“
What
are you here for then?”

He brings his hands to his
head. “This is fucked up.”

“
No
shit.”

“
I'm
not here to kill you and it wasn't my intention to injure that man.”

“
It's
not like you haven't done it before.”

His stare is so intense, I
step back and bump into the wall behind me.

“
What
do you know about me?”

I feel my knees buckle and
lean on the wall to remain vertical.

“
That
your name is Steven Waldorf.”

“
What
else?”

“
That...”
Should I say it? He's pressing me with those menacing hazel eyes...
“You're the last superhero to roam the Earth.”

His face falls for a second
before he steps back, away from my quaking self.

I know too much and now he
knows I know and he'll do to me what they do to all the people who
know too much.

“
I'm
not here to kill you.”

I brave a glance at him and
he's standing next to the dumpster, his head down.

“
You're
not?”

“
No,
I'm not. What made you think that?”

“
Apart
from all the glaring and the sneering?” And the fact that I
witnessed you almost murder someone?

He runs his fingers through
his graying hair. “Look, I'm sorry I was rude to you.”

“
Are
you even real?”

“
Of
course I am.”

“
And
you
are
Steven Waldorf.”

“
I
go by Steven Dennis now.”

“
Oh.”
A pause. “You're supposed to be dead.”

“
Yes.
And I would appreciate if you didn't tell anyone that I am not.”

“
Okay.”
Sure. Or you'll kill me. I get it.

He's about to say something,
but it dies in his throat. His face's softened and giving him a
second look, he's not that old or bad looking.

It takes a depraved mind
like mine to think such a thing in a moment like this.

Something drives me to talk.
Maybe it's that same thing that made me get out of the car and read
the plaque.

Step closer to the boogeyman
so he can slash you straight.

“
Were
you looking for something? Is there anything I can help you with?”

Now he softens further and
there's the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“
I
came to buy more books.”

“
Okay.
Follow me.”

Don't touch him in case he's
startled and then kills you.

We walk back into the
bookstore and I signal Daphne that all is okay. She gives Steven an
'I'm watching you' look that he doesn't notice.

He's got superpowers, yes,
but not all of them. I think there's a rule about that; you only get
one or two, not more. He's got telekinesis. It explains why the hobo
flew through the air. He pushed him with his power.

We're in the poetry section
and I try to interest him in some crime novel that just came out.

“
Don't
read crime.”

Of course you don't.

A long, elegant finger
settles on a particular poetry compilation that happens to be one of
my favorites and pulls it out.

The guy seems to know.
“Great choice.”

“
Is
it?”

“
One
of my favorites.” I'm regarded with a quirked eyebrow and a
satisfied nod. “I must ask...”

“
No
questions.”

And here I was thinking he'd
softened.

Why am I following him, I
don't know.

Well, maybe because he's the
last fucking superhero in the fucking Earth and, right now, I'm the
only one who knows he's still alive.

When I turn around, he's
staring at me.

“
Can
you read my mind?”

That makes him burst out in
laughter.

“
Not
funny.” I give him an about face and his hand lands on my
shoulder, startling me.

“
Sorry,”
he says.

Daphne's checking on us from
a distance.

“
It's
okay.”

“
Got
any naughty thoughts you don't want me knowing about?”

Is that humor? Must be.

“
Maybe.”

That amuses him.

“
I'm
taking this one but only because you said it was your favorite.”
He hands me the book.

“
One
of my favorites. I've got many.” I lead the way to the
register, where Daphne's sitting.

She's quick to slide off the
stool and run for cover.

“
Then
I shall come back for the rest.”

Am I getting hit on by a man
twice my age? From murder to flirting. This is new and unheard.

He's smiling. It makes him
look less menacing. Almost nice.

Apart from the murder thing.

He pays, I bag the book,
give it to him.

“
What's
your name, by the way?”

“
Giana.”

It hits him, something,
don't know what, then says, “Beautiful.” And it's as if
it physically hurt him.

A slight bow and he's out.
Out the door but not my mind.

“
What
did he want?” Daphne approaches me.

“
I
don't know,” is my reply and I have to shake it off. “I'm
getting lunch.” Hit a button on the cash register and see
there's not enough.

“
I'll
get it.” She pats my shoulder and is off the same way Steven
was seconds before.

I bend over and hit my
forehead on the counter.

“
Fuck
everything and everyone, dead, alive, or about to die.”

3

It's one of those days when
you don't want to see anyone, but you have to because you have to go
to work and run errands and talk to people.

Top it off with the fact
that I was running late and you can see the picture.