“Why not? I love you, Bella, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much. Don’t you love me too?”
I bit my lip to keep from confessing the depth of my feelings. “I care about you. A lot. But we can’t be together, Devlin. It just wouldn’t work out. You’re a superhero. You always will be.”
“And you don’t want to be with a superhero,” Devlin said. “Because of what happened to your father. You’re afraid I’ll die just like he did. That a couple of ubervillains will corner me in a dark alley one night and kill me. It won’t happen, Bella. I promise. I won’t let it.”
I laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You won’t let it? Don’t you think my father thought that very same thing? Don’t you think he would have come home to us if he could?”
Devlin didn’t respond.
“We almost died today—you, me, Joanne. And Berkley did die. I can’t go through this again. I can’t sit at home every night wondering whether or not you’re going to come back in the morning.”
Devlin looked at me. “I could always quit,” he said in a low voice.
I stared at him, stunned. “Quit? Quit what? Being Debonair?”
He nodded.
I shook my head. “You couldn’t do that any more than I could quit breathing. And I wouldn’t want you to.”
“You don’t want to be with me because I’m Debonair, but you don’t want me to stop being him? I don’t understand, Bella. I would give it up, I would do it for you. I’d do anything for you.”
The words and the love shining in Devlin’s eyes filled me with hope, but I pushed it back down, smothering it with reason. It wasn’t going to work out between us. We both had to accept that now.
I let out a long sigh. “I believe you. I know you would do it for me. But you’d be doing it for me, not for yourself. In time, you’d come to hate me for making you give up being Debonair. And I couldn’t stand it if you hated me. I just couldn’t.”
Devlin grabbed my hand. “I would quit for you, and I wouldn’t hate you for it. I could never hate you for anything. I’m not like your father, Bella. When are you going to realize that?”
A sad smile curved my lips. “The only problem is I’ve heard this all before. Word for word. Don’t you think my mother tried to make him quit? Don’t you think she begged and pleaded with him to stop putting himself in danger?” Another bitter laugh escaped my lips. “They fought about it constantly while she was still alive. Sometimes, my father would listen to her. He’d give in and put the mask and the motorcycle and the leather jacket away. For a while. A week, a month. Three months later, he’d put them back on, and the whole sad cycle would repeat itself. I don’t want to go through that again. Any of it. Not again, and especially not with you.”
Devlin just stared at me, his eyes more hurt and wounded than the rest of his battered, bruised body.
“I’m sorry, Devlin.” I looked away. “But it’s over between us.”
33
Devlin tried to change my mind. He begged and pleaded and told me how much he loved me, but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and ears and heart to him and held firm.
Mr. Sage made Devlin spend the rest of the day at Sublime for observation. I slept beside him in an extra bed. Around midnight, Devlin decided he felt well enough to go to the hospital to check on Granny Cane. I didn’t call him on her real identity as Grace Caleb. I’d had enough superheroes and ubervillains for one day. For a lifetime.
“Come with me, Bella. Please,” Devlin said, taking my hand again. “We can make this work, I know we can.”
“No,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat and pulling away. “Trust me. It’s better this way. It’s better to end things now. Go check on Granny Cane. She needs you.”
Devlin dropped my hand. Then—
POP!
He teleported away.
But this time was different. This time, I knew he wasn’t coming back. Devlin was gone.
Forever.
I couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down my flushed face.
Bobby came out to Sublime early the next morning to drive me home. On the ride back into the city, I told him everything that had happened after the disaster at the museum—including what Grace Caleb did late at night.
Bobby’s reaction to the news that his lady friend masqueraded as a superhero surprised me, to say the least.
“Oh, I knew all about that,” he said, taking a sip of his early morning espresso.
My mouth dropped open. “You knew Grace Caleb was Granny Cane? How did you figure it out?”
Bobby smiled. “Bella, when you’re as old as I am, you’ve seen it all—especially when it comes to superheroes and ubervillains. I knew the first time Grace left in the middle of one of our dates that she was Granny Cane. Nobody walks out on Bobby Bulluci without good reason. And what better reason could there be than being a superhero?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, a bit miffed.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. Unlike you young folks, I’m not obsessed with finding out who everybody really is. Now, tell me about Devlin. Why wasn’t he still at Sublime with you this morning? What’s going on between the two of you?”
I could never hide anything from Grandfather, so I decided to tell him the truth. “We broke up,” I said, looking out the window.
“Why?”
I told Bobby my reasons for ending things with Devlin Debonair Dash.
“Bah! Just because the boy’s a superhero is no reason not to be with him,” Bobby said, waving his hand.
“You don’t understand.” I looked at him. “Being Johnny Angel was always your choice. It was never mine. Going out, getting hurt, putting yourself in danger was always your choice, my father’s choice, and now Johnny’s choice. Well, I’m making a choice. And I choose not to go through all that again. Not even for Devlin.”
“But you love him, don’t you, Bella?” Grandfather asked, his green eyes soft and sad.
“Yes,” I replied, staring out the window so he wouldn’t see me cry. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough. No matter how much you want it to be.”
Berkley Brighton’s funeral was held two days later at the Cathedral of the Angels. Practically the whole city showed up to put to rest one of its favorite sons. Berkley hadn’t only been rich—he’d used his money to help others, funding scholarships, grants, and much more in Bigtime and beyond.
I sat in a pew near the front of the massive church, nestled between Grandfather and Carmen Cole. Sam sat on the other side of Carmen, while Henry, Lulu, and Chief Newman slid into the seats behind us. The inside of the church was dim and smelled faintly of incense. A white light highlighted Berkley’s face, which looked calm and serene in his casket.
The service had already stretched into its third hour, with one person after another getting up to talk about Berkley and what he’d meant to them and the rest of the city. Grandfather had been among those to speak.
Another person left the stage, and I saw Abby Appleby gesture to the organist. Abby stood off to one side, partially hidden by a spray of roses. In addition to party planning, Abby also arranged funerals, and Joanne had called upon her to make sure Berkley had a proper send-off and burial. From the flowers to the casket to the order of speakers, everything had been perfect. Berkley would have approved.
Now, it was Joanne’s turn to talk. She wore a simple black suit, one of my designs. Her only jewelry was her enormous diamond ring. Her face looked even thinner and paler than before, and dark circles ringed her eyes. Even her perfect makeup couldn’t disguise the fact she was grieving deeply. Joanne’s eyes swept over the crowd, taking in all of the people. Our gazes met for a moment, before she continued on with her perusal. Then, she leaned toward the microphone.
“Well, Berkley would certainly be pleased with the turnout today. I am. I want to thank you all for coming and paying your respects to Berkley. He was a kind, gentle, caring man. He loved me, and I lov
ed him more than words could ever say.” Joanne paused, struggling to keep her composure. “That’s it. That’s all I want to say. Because no amount of words will ever bring Berkley back. Nothing will. I love you, Berkley. Goodbye.”
Joanne walked away from the podium. She went over to where Berkley rested and placed a kiss on his cold lips. She motioned to the pallbearers, and they closed the casket and picked it up. Abby came over to Joanne to escort her outside, but she waved the event planner away. Joanne held up her chin, slid a pair of oversized sunglasses on her pale face, and strode outside. Her steps faltered only a little.
The casket glided out the stained glass doors of the cathedral. The crowd of mourners trailed along behind, walking the three short blocks to Bigtime Cemetery. We gathered around a freshly dug hole. The brown blotch ruined the smoothness of the golden grass. The cemetery workers lowered the casket into the ground, while a minister said prayers of comfort and hope. Joanne stepped forward and threw a violet rose onto the casket just before they put the first scoop of dirt on the gleaming surface.
I looked up from the sight and locked eyes with Devlin. My breath caught in my throat as his blue gaze held mine. The minister kept saying prayers as the service continued, but I didn’t hear them. All I could hear, see, think about was Devlin. He moved through the crowd until he stood next to me. I drew in his scent of sweet, musky roses. It made me a little dizzy, the way it always did.
The service continued for the better part of an hour. Once the casket was completely covered, the minister finished his prayers. People said their condolences and goodbyes to Joanne, then drifted off to their waiting limos.
To my surprise, Jasper stood at the edge of the thinning crowd, leaning on a set of crutches. Joanne spotted him about the same time I did. They stared at each other for several seconds, before Jasper gave her a sad smile. Joanne’s lips quivered, and she nodded at him. Then, Jasper turned and hobbled away. Joanne watched him go, something like regret flashing in her eyes, before she turned to the next mourner, Chief Sean Newman. The chief whispered something in her ear. Joanne gave him a wan smile and moved on to the next well-wisher. The chief moved off to one side, his eyes lingering on the grieving widow.
Devlin took my elbow and led me over to a nearby bench. I let him. We sat there in silence for a long time, watching the workers erect the statue that would mark Berkley’s grave.
I’d thought of nothing but Devlin these last two days, and it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself into his arms and begging him to give up being Debonair. To tell him I loved him just as much as he loved me. To plead with him never to leave my side for anything ever again.
“Can we talk?” Devlin asked in a soft voice.
I devoured him with my hungry gaze. I’d missed him so much. I still wanted him so much. But it could never happen. We could never be together. Not again.
“Of course,” I said in my calmest, most sensible voice, trying to pretend we were just a couple of friends sitting on a bench together.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About how you didn’t want to be with a superhero. And you’re right. You shouldn’t have to go through all that again. Not for anybody.”
I nodded, glad he could see my side of the argument.
“But we live in a city, in a world, full of superheroes and ubervillains. You’re never going to be truly free of them, Bella. Never.”
“I know,” I replied. “But I can do everything in my power to stay away from them. That much I can do.”
“I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to do one more thing as Debonair, then I’m going to quit stealing art—forever.”
Devlin’s words thrilled me, but I couldn’t let him go through with his plan. I couldn’t let him change that part of himself just for me. He would come to hate me for it. I knew he would.
I put my hand on his. “That’s very noble of you, very sweet, Devlin. But it won’t work, and you know it. There’s always going to be one more thing you have to do, one more person you have to save, until one day, your luck is going to run out. And I’ll be back in this cemetery again, crying over your grave, instead of Berkley’s.”
Devlin shook his head. “No, this is different. You’ll see. I’m not giving up on us, Bella. Not now, not ever. I love you too much to let you go.”
“Devlin—”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. And all the feelings I thought I’d buried, that I thought didn’t matter, roared back to the surface. In an instant, I was kissing him just as much as he was kissing me. Maybe even more so. We broke apart, breathing hard.
Tears gathered in my eyes. “Please, Devlin. Don’t make this any harder than it is already. Please.”
He stroked my cheek, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Things will work out, you’ll see, Bella. Trust me. I’ll be in touch soon.”
For once, Devlin didn’t teleport away. He walked just like everybody else, but it didn’t ease my hurt any less.
34
‘You’re being stupid‘ Fiona announced. ‘Completely, totally, willfully, horribly, awfully stupid.”
I gave her a sour look. Fiona was one to talk about being stupid. She’d had Johnny convinced she was still in love with her dead fiancé before they’d gotten together.
Fiona and I sat in the kitchen at the Bulluci mansion, along with Carmen and Lulu. Fiona and Johnny had come back from their trip a couple of days early because of everything that had been going on. I’d invited Carmen and Lulu over to join us for brunch. Johnny and Grandfather were off watching a soccer game, while the other men in our lives were all busy with their day jobs.
It had been a little over a week since I’d last seen Devlin at the cemetery. He hadn’t called or even popped into the house to see me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Still, I checked the news on SNN every night before I went to bed and first thing when I got up in the morning—praying I’d see Debonair on there and hoping I wouldn’t.
I was a mess. A confused, sad, conflicted mess, which was why I’d invited my few girlfriends over to commiserate with me. What I hadn’t expected was for Fiona to berate me for my lack of faith in love.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Fiona punctuated her statement by shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. Two empty plates sat on the table beside her, along with a pitcher of apple juice and a tub of cream cheese she’d slathered on the six bagels she’d eaten. So far. We’d only sat down to brunch fifteen minutes ago.
Carmen and Lulu looked back and forth between the two of us, amused by the whole exchange.
“Why am I being so stupid?” I asked. “It’s all perfectly clear and logical to me.”
“That’s your problem. You’re so damn sensible all the time,” Fiona said. “Sometimes, you just have to follow your heart, Bella. No matter where it leads you. Carmen and Sam, and Lulu and Henry, are proof of that. The four of them couldn’t have been more wrong for each other, but they made their relationships work. Despite my efforts to the contrary.” She muttered that last part under her breath.
“Hey!” Lulu growled. “Henry and I were, are, and will always be perfect for each other. Besides, I’m not the one who beat my future husband to a bloody pulp while we were dating. That was all you, Fiona.”
Fiona’s eyes fixed on Lulu’s blue-streaked hair, and a few sparks fluttered from her fingertips. I was very glad we had tile floors throughout the house. Otherwise, Fiona would have burned it down long ago.
“I think what Fiona and Lulu are trying to say is that it takes a lot of effort and compromise to make a relationship work, no matter how perfect you might be for the other person—or how much you love him,” Carmen said, sliding a stack of pancakes to Fiona.
Fiona’s eyes fixed on the food, and the sparks around her fingers snuffed out. She was easily distracted sometimes.
“I do love him, but it’s never going to work. I can’t ask him to give up being Deb
onair for me, and I don’t want to be with a superhero.”
Carmen put her hand on top of mine. “I know how you feel, Bella. But you have to ask yourself—do you love him enough to at least give it a chance? And isn’t getting your heart broken better than never knowing if it would have worked out or not?”
The three of them went back to their brunch, but I didn’t have any appetite for the high-protein, low-fat cheese-and-spinach quiche in front of me. I stabbed a bit of burned cheese and ate it without really even tasting it. Were my friends right? Should I try to make things work with Devlin, even if he was and would always be Debonair?
I thought back to all the time we’d spent together. That first confrontation in Berkley’s house, meeting at the museum, our time in the Lair of Seduction, the way he held me, the way he listened to me, the way he loved me. He was a nice, mostly normal guy wrapped up in a bad-boy package. He was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.
And I knew what I had to do. I had to at least give Devlin a chance. I had to try. It was the only sensible thing to do.
Carmen looked at me, as if she knew what I’d decided. She smiled. “Go answer the phone, Bella. It’s for you.”
I looked at her. “But it’s not even ring—”
A second later, the phone in the kitchen rang out, a loud, beeping sound.
I looked at the phone, then at Carmen. “That’s just creepy.”
“Tell us about it,” Lulu said, taking a swig of her mimosa. “You don’t see her that much. We’ve got to deal with that stuff all the time.”
I walked over and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Bella. It’s Arthur Anders.”
“Hello, Arthur,” I said in a listless voice, wondering why the curator of the Bigtime Museum of Modern Art was calling me on a Sunday morning. “What’s up?”
“Bella, could I ask you to come down to the museum? I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”
“What is it? Is something wrong with the exhibit again?” I asked, worried.