The Last Superhero (28 page)

Check on the wolf and the
purple eyes.

Daphne, for sure.

A darker purple than
Salvatore Jr.'s mask.

Ross's getting up.

Push myself, breathe. The
wolf's waiting for my cue.

Nod. Bolt towards Salvatore
Jr. from both sides.

He merely glances at us.
Steps to the side.

And we're crashing against
the dark water of a lake.

I struggle not to drink it
through my nose.

Daphne as wolf is pawing
around while ninja dude is waving his sword too close to me for
comfort.

“
What's
your name?” I ask him.

He retrieves the sword as we
sway in the water.

“
Ronald.”

“
You
know you're in a nightmare, right?”

“
Isn't
it a fantasy?”

Check on Daphne and she's
made it to the shore.

Look back and see Salvatore
Jr. looking down on us.

Walking on water. Standing
there like it's solid ground.

Fuck.

I try to dive but can't as
Ronald starts waving his arms like a maniac.

Salvatore Jr.'s holding a
hand to his side, over the man, keeping him submerged with his power
but only up to his nose.

Just above the nostrils.

“
Look
at him,” he says and I rather feel the voice than hear it.

He's drowning him, leaving
his eyes out so I can see them, witness them.

And I'm bound. Can't move my
arms or legs. My head kept above the water like I'm some fucking
buoy.

“
Stop
it!” I know my mouth is moving, but I can't hear anything
coming out of it.

Bulging eyes. Terror.
Helplessness.

“
Fucking
stop it!” Mental pushes do nothing during the nightmares.

Losing the will to fight.

That's when the waters part
and Salvatore Jr. lands on his butt on dry land.

I clutch the dirt under me
for purchase.

Ronald lies sprawled, still.

Salvatore Jr.'s standing and
there's... Ross? Cloak billowing in the wind and his hair's long and,
is that a bow in his hand?

What the fuck?

He's quick to shoot an arrow
and puncture Salvatore Jr.'s thigh.

When Salvatore Jr. claps his
hands above his head and the waters close over us.

I hold my breath yet the
water doesn't cover me.

Daylight. Lying on snow.

Roll to my back.

I'm alone.

“
Daph?
Ross? Ronald?” Anyone?

None.

Get vertical and I'm
standing in the middle of a street. Houses around me, snow falling,
are those Christmas carolers chanting?

Walk to the nearest house
even when I don't know why. Check for people through the windows on
the porch and see a family of four sitting at the table. The clock on
the wall says it's around lunch.

“
Curious
little animal you are.”

Go stiff under The Voice.

Twist my neck and see the
purple mask on the man dressed in a heavy winter coat with fur around
the collar.

“
Where
are the rest? What did you do to them?”

“
Me?
You were the one who brought them here.”

A chest-piercing howl
travels from a place far from us to our ears and he lets out a wicked
smile.

“
That's
new to me. The dog.”

“
A
werewolf.”

“
Ah.”
Raise a gloved hand... “Let's try this again.” ...that
grabs me by the back of my shirt and shoves me face first into the
snow.

I scramble, try to crawl out
of his reach because the next thing I know the sole of his boot is
about to land on my face.

“
What
are you doing?!” A man has emerged from the house.

“
You
stay out of it!” Salvatore Jr. shouts at him and I glimpse at
the man holding a child back.

Wiggle like a lizard and
grab Salvatore Jr.'s left leg and feel the electricity conducted
through my skin onto his and it burns.

“
Salvatore!”
The man again. “What are you doing?” He's coming closer
and I feel it when he yanks me, drags me.

Salvatore Jr.'s covering his
burnt leg with snow and hissing and I'm fighting against the man who
doesn't seem to get what the fuck is going on.

“
I
can kill him! I know how to kill him!” I say.

He stops, drops me gently on
the white blanket of snow and looks me in the eye.

“
He'll
hurt you like he hurt Genevieve.”

“
You
knew her?”

Salvatore Jr.'s still
nursing his burn.

The man turns his sight to
the door of the house and I see a woman at the top of the front
steps, her eyes soft on the cussing Salvatore Jr.

It's her. Genevieve with the
pale skin and the lithe appearance and the warm gaze.

“
She's
safe now,” the man says.

“
Who
are you?”

“
Someone
I should've killed long ago.” A limping Salvatore Jr.
approaches.

“
I
tried. Believe me, I tried,” the man manages to say before he's
thrown backwards by the masked man.

The same one who drops a
handful of snow on my chest and lowers himself, over me, so the bone
of his right knee punctures the space between my breasts and it aches
with the intensity of all the previous injuries combined.

Hurts, the crushing.

His hands pin my wrists
down.

Burns, the touching.

And I
scream in pain. And I cry when I feel and hear the
crack
of
my sternum giving way under his weight.

And he's laughing,
guffawing.

Can't move. Can't breathe.
Can't scream anymore.

Shut my eyes and feel a
collision above me that leaves me lying sideways, puking blood.

Open my eyes a slit and see
Salvatore Jr. making his escape down the street while a cold tongue
licks blood off my face.

The snow melts, turns to
grass.

Night falls on us again.

The air is filled with the
collective grunting of men trying to get to their feet, not knowing
what hit them.

I'm choking on something I
can't cough out, my hands handcuffed behind my back.

“
Turn
her around!” someone commands and I'm pushed to my side and the
copper taste envelops my senses as the blood floods my mouth and
nose.

“
Giana!”
That's definitely Daphne's voice.

“
Steven,”
I'm able to mutter.

“
Take
her handcuffs off! Get the paramedics. Now!” someone else says.

Untied, I try to recollect
myself, but it's too dark to see and I can only feel the shuffling of
people around me as the dizziness pushes me off the cliff of
consciousness.

29

I'm taken to the nearest
hospital and rushed in by police and paramedics through the walls and
the voices and the cries so typical of ERs.

Although all my mind can
think of is Steven.

Where did they take him or
what will be done to him.

The dizziness has subsided
and I want to get off this stupid stretcher and run out to get Ross
and slap him across the face for not listening to me and letting them
knock Steven out.

Try to fight, but I'm so
inexplicably tired. And when a nurse flings open my blouse and gives
a gasp I panic and think, “Oh shit, this is bad.”

Take a peek and see the
bruising.

Yep, real bad.

Dammit.

Throw my head back, hard,
get reprimanded, resign.

X-rays and scans and needles
and fluids and not a fractured bone in sight because it was all in my
mind.

Hospital's packed so we have
to stay in Emergency.

Shut the curtain and leave
me to my distressed mind. Think of Steven and cover my face with my
hands and it hurts because of the IVs and the pulse thingy on my
finger, but I do it anyway and start to cry.

Then my chest hurts and it's
more a reminder than actual physical pain.

“
Giana.”

“
Daph?”

Wipe the tears.

She's looking down at me
with eyes full of compassion and fear.

There's a hospital bracelet
on her wrist too.

“
Are
you okay?” I ask her when she's about to ask me the same.

“
I'm
fine. You?”

“
I
need to get out of here.”

She exhales. Wish I could do
the same.

“
They've
taken him into custody and nobody knows where.”

“
Not
even Ross?”

“
He's
here too. They brought a lot of people even when most are only
showing signs of shock.”

“
Is
Ross hurt? What about the other guys?” Push myself up. “Daphne
you managed to morph...”

“
Calm
down. We'll talk about that later, not here.” Her eyes move
from side to side.

We're not alone, of course.

“
Thanks
for saving me.”

Her hand finds mine for a
squeeze as she lowers herself to sit on the bed, facing me.

“
How
could I not? Now try and get some rest before the nurse finds out
I've sneaked out of my bed.”

“
Where
did he hurt you?”

“
All
I got is a sore back and you know that's from sitting all crouched
over my laptop, writing. There were two other men, one's got a
horrible migraine while the other had water in his lungs.”

“
The
doctors must be going nuts.”

“
Excuse
me?” A familiar pair of eyes appears through the curtain.

Dad.

I'm gonna get lectured for
sure.

“
Daphne?”
Dad's mention of her name is not a question but a warning. “You
shouldn't leave your bed.”

“
I'm
okay, Rick.”

What that got her was a
scowl. “I don't care how good you feel...”

“
Okay!
Okay!”

She knows better than to
argue with Dr. Richard Armstrong, so she skitters away and leaves me
to face Mr. Preacher Papa.

He sits on the edge of the
bed and gives me a look I don't recognize on him. A bit lost, a bit
sad, a bit concerned, and a lot aghast.

“
Giana,
baby,” he breathes. “I'm trying to make sense of all
this. There's police and press out there trying to get in.”