Karma Girl

  Angel kept coming, his green eyes as hard as jade. My eyes flicked around, trying to figure out a way to stop him without hurting him too much. He was on me in a second.

  “Move out of my way, Fiera,” Angel growled, his eyes focused on Intelligal. “Or else.”

  I was out of options and out of time.

  So, I punched him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I really should have restrained myself. It was like trying to punch through granite or slamming my hand into a wall of concrete. Pain pulsed through my fingers, up my wrist, and into my arm and shoulder.

  “Son of a bitch, that hurt!” I cursed, shaking my hand. I’d have bruises tomorrow for sure.

  “I told you, Fiera. You...can’t...hurt...me,” Angel emphasized. “Now stand aside. Or else.”

  “Or else what?” I taunted, stalling for time.

  Time to do what, I hadn’t a clue. My options were severely limited. Johnny Angel was strong, and with his heavy exoskeleton, I’d have a hard time wrestling him or pinning him to the ground until the others came to help. I couldn’t keep him at bay with my fireballs without destroying the entire floor. The only thing I could do would be to beat on him a little, but my blows wouldn’t have any effect as long as he was concentrating on his exoskeleton.

  “Or else, I’ll move you. And I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  My eyes darted back and forth. I didn’t want to hurt Angel aka Johnny Bulluci, but I couldn’t let him kill Intelligal either. I just couldn’t. Not and still call myself a superhero. I spotted a long, thick pipe among the junk in the shopping cart. I came up with a hasty plan. The only kind of plan I did, really.

  I sighed. A great, big, heaving I’m-such-a-wimpy-girl-I-just-have-to-give-in-before-I-break-a-nail sigh. “All right, you can have her. Just let me tie my shoes first.”

  My excuse was totally lame, but it worked. The girly sigh, combined with my Barbie doll looks and baby blues, gets ’em every time. Angel’s eyes dropped to my shoes, and the hard, chiseled look left his skin.

  “Tie your shoes? But you’re wearing boots—”

  I reached over, grabbed the pipe, and smacked Angel with it. That got his attention. He staggered back and fell to one knee.

  “Kinky. I like it,” he mumbled. Blood welled up out of the cut I’d sliced across his left cheek.

  He got back up and charged at me, but he forgot to concentrate on forming his exoskeleton—exactly what I’d been counting on. I sidestepped him and whacked him across the back with the pipe. But Angel limped to his feet again. And again. And again.

  Every time Angel got back up, I hit him. Every time, the pipe got a bit heavier in my hands. Every cut, every bruise made me feel sick inside. Every blow I gave him was like a knife in my own heart. Despite his faults and desperate need for vengeance, I really liked Angel aka Johnny Bulluci. I hated to hurt him. I hated to hurt all innocents. But he’d left me with no choice. Sometimes, being a superhero really sucked. Damn duty.

  Angel’s skeleton might have been superstrong, but so was I. With the pipe, I was able to put a few dents in him. Drops of blood slid down his chest like a trail of rubies. The sight made me want to retch. But he kept coming at me. Stupid, stubborn fool.

  Didn’t the man realize that he was beaten? Evidently not, because Angel stumbled to his feet after a long moment of kissing the floor. He seesawed back and forth like a kid’s teeter-totter. Then, he took a step forward. He wasn’t going to stop until I killed him. Well, I wasn’t going to do that. Not to Angel. Not to Johnny. I’d had enough of this. I marched over to him.

  “You really should have stayed down that last time,” I snarled.

  I reared back and gave him the ole Fist-o-Might. I put everything I had into the punch. All my strength, all my anger, all my guilt, all my shame. My fist cracked against his jaw, and Angel crumpled to the ground like a paper doll. I let him. Maybe the fall would knock some sense into that hard head of his, although I doubted it.

  This time, Angel didn’t get up. He lay there on the floor. I drew in a deep breath and threw the pipe away. I didn’t want to look at it. Or the blood trickling out of the many wounds I’d inflicted on Angel. On Johnny. I closed my eyes. What had I done?

  A gloved hand settled on my shoulder. I shrieked, reached back for the hand, and flipped the person it belonged to over my shoulder. A blur of green slammed into the floor in front of me.

  Mr. Sage’s masked face stared up at me. His mouth opened and closed in pain, and his eyes rolled around in his head like marbles. I cringed. First my lover, now my father. I was batting a thousand today. Who was next? Some orphan out on the street? How about a senior citizen on his way home from the bingo parlor? Maybe I could knock Lulu around a little. That would make my day complete.

  “Oh, sorry about that. You startled me.”

  I reached down and helped Mr. Sage to his feet. His green eyes were dark and dazed. I kept a hand on his arm to keep him from plummeting back to the floor.

  Hermit moved over to the unconscious Angel. “Fiera, what, uh, happened here?”

  “I had Intelligal cornered, and Angel showed up. He wanted me to step aside so he could finish her off—Intelligal!” During my sickening fight with Angel, I’d forgotten about the supersmart ubervillain.

  I whipped around. She was gone, along with all the blueprints, the shopping cart full of stuff, and the curious machine she’d been working on. Her chair sat where it had fallen, slowly getting covered with sticky, white foam, just like everything else in the store.

  Damn. I put my fist through a computer monitor, not even caring about the mess I made. I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid as to let her get away. She’d been injured, for crying out loud. What kind of superhero was I? I beat up on people who helped me and let ubervillains escape. Maybe it was time to hang up the skintight spandex and mask. I punched through another monitor.

  “Easy, Fiera. Easy,” Mr. Sage said, stepping back to avoid the flying debris. “It’s not your fault she got away, so please don’t destroy any more of Oodles’ stock than necessary.”

  “Was there any sign of Siren?” I asked.

  Hermit shook his head. “Not a trace of her, although there was a smashed jewelry case on the fifth floor. It looks like Intelligal broke in alone.” He spotted the ruined Intellichair and brightened. “But at least she left her chair behind. I’ve been itching to get my hands on it and see the technology she’s got hard-wired inside it.”

  Hermit pulled out his computer and started to walk toward the chair.

  Mr. Sage’s eyes glowed. “No, Hermit!”

  A tall, skinny cylinder popped up on top of the chair, and a red light flashed on and off. Red lights were never, ever good. I didn’t have to be psychic to know what was going to happen next. I grabbed Hermit by the back of his black-and-white suit and sprinted toward the escalator, dragging him along behind me.

  “Get Johnny!” I screamed at my father.

  Mr. Sage used his telekinesis to pick up Johnny’s unconscious form, which zipped ahead of him. Johnny sailed down the frozen escalator with Mr. Sage right behind. Hermit pounded down after them.

  “Go, go, go!” I shouted.

  Being the strongest and fire-resistant, I stayed in the back this time, so I could shield the others from the force of the explosion—

  Intelligal’s chair self-destructed with a roar. I don’t know what sort of explosive she had in that thing, but it packed one hell of a punch. Even better than my trusty Fist-o-Might. The others had just reached the bottom of the escalator and I was halfway down when the shockwave from the explosion knocked me into them. I felt like I was a human bowling ball, and they were a set of pins. We went down in a tangle of limbs, boots, and spandex. The building shook, and fire raced down the escalator, threatening to roast the others. I scrambled on top, trying to shield them from the searing heat. But it wasn’t going to be enough.

  Another set of sprinklers dropped down from the ceiling and spit out a pale, blue fo
am, adding to the mounds of white. The color scheme reminded me of some sort of winter wonderland. But the blue foam did its job, and the fire snuffed out just as it hit the bottom of the escalator—inches away from our feet. A second later, fans rumbled to life, pulling the smoke and soot from the explosion up out of the building. Bless Oodles and its efficient safety system.

  The foam covered everything. By the time we got to our feet, we were ankle-deep in the stuff. Everybody was a little shaken up, but nobody had any serious injuries. Nobody except Johnny. Hermit managed to prop him up against a table full of blenders. Blood dripped from the cuts on his face and chest, a bright, scarlet contrast to the white and blue around us.

  “Let’s go,” Mr. Sage said. “The ubervillains are gone, and the fire department will be on their way to assess the damage. There’s nothing more we can do here tonight. We need to get Angel back to Sublime and treat his injuries.”

  I sighed. I knew I’d done the right thing by stopping him, but seeing him there on the floor beaten, bloody, and bruised made something twist deep inside me. I knelt down beside him and brushed his hair back from his face.

  “I’m so sorry, Johnny. So sorry,” I whispered. “But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t listen to me. And I couldn’t let you do it. I just couldn’t.”

  He didn’t respond. So, I picked up Angel, heaved him over my shoulder, and followed the others out of the building.

  *

  Two hours later, I stood outside one of the underground sick bays in Sublime. I stared through the tinted glass window at the unconscious Johnny Angel. After waking up the unconscious guards and filling them in on what had happened, we’d ridden back to the manor in silence.

  I’d put Johnny in one of the sick bays we used when we had unexpected guests. The chief and Henry had treated Angel’s cuts and bruises with their magic mojo pills, salves, and ointments. I hadn’t beaten him as badly as I feared, and the chief promised me that he would make a full recovery. It didn’t ease my guilt any, though. Now, the four of us waited outside the room trying to decide what we were going to do when Angel woke up.

  “Beating up the guy you’re sleeping with. That’s twisted, Fiona, even for a superhero,” Lulu said, attempting a joke.

  “He didn’t exactly give me a choice,” I growled. “I couldn’t let him just kill Intelligal, especially when she was completely out of it. They call that murder, you know. “

  My father placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You did what had to be done. We know you’d never intentionally harm someone, Fiona. Don’t we, Lulu?”

  The computer hacker didn’t quite meet his gaze. Or mine. “Sure, we know that, Chief Newman.”

  “What you think I might do or not do doesn’t matter. The fact is that I beat Angel to a bloody pulp.”

  If it had been Scorpion or Frost or some other ubervillain in that bed, I would have been beaming like a comet, proud of whipping an evildoer. Now, I just felt sick and cold and tired.

  My eyes traced over Johnny’s face. We’d left his mask on, of course, but bruises had already started to form on his golden skin. A white T-shirt stretched over his chest, while a cotton sheet covered the rest of his body. An IV dripped antibiotics into his arm, while more machines monitored his heart and blood pressure. Johnny looked so sad, so battered, so broken lying in that hospital bed. And it was all because of me.

  Even worse, it could happen again if Johnny kept on with his mission of vengeance. I couldn’t bear to stop him. Not Johnny. Not again. My heart couldn’t take it.

  In that instant, I made a decision. Probably a bad decision, probably the wrong move to make, but it was the only plan I could come up with. I looked at the others.

  “I have to tell him that I know who he is, and I have to tell him who I am too.”

  Everyone stilled. Then, Lulu whistled. Henry pushed his glasses up his nose. The chief laced his fingers together.

  Finally, Chief Newman spoke. “Do you think that’s a good idea, Fiona?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue. But it’s the only way I can think of to get him to stop this vendetta. We got lucky tonight. If Intelligal hadn’t been injured, she could have killed us both. She could have gassed us and shot us and not thought twice about it. Next time, we might not be so lucky. Maybe if Johnny knows who I really am and knows I’ll see that justice is served, he’ll think twice about killing the ubervillains.”

  “You think he cares for you?” the chief asked. His eyes glowed a second, like the quick flare of a cigarette.

  I thought back to the time I’d spent with Johnny. Our dinner at Quicke’s. Riding the Ferris wheel. Sneaking out of the observatory. Swimming in the lake. Dinner at his house. The way he kissed me. The way he held me. The way he made my heart quicken just by thinking about him.

  “I don’t know exactly how he feels about me,” I replied. “But I care about him. I have to try to stop him before he hurts himself—or somebody else.”

  From inside the sick bay, Angel let out a low moan. The sound tugged at my heart. He was beginning to come around. I put my mask back, opened the door, and stepped inside the room. His head turned in my direction.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite sadist,” Angel said. His voice was thick and slurred like he’d been drinking instead of unconscious.

  I settled myself in a chair next to the bed. My eyes flicked to the many monitors that surrounded Angel. Heart, lungs, brain. Everything was fine, despite the smackdown I’d given him. Relief filled my body, along with guilt and shame.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said in a low voice, not quite looking into his bleary eyes. “But you didn’t give me a choice.”

  “No, I suppose I didn’t.” He rubbed his bruised jaw. “You’ve got quite the right hook going there. Especially when you’re swinging something heavy to go along with it.”

  I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say to change the fact that I’d just kicked his ass. He was taking it better than I had expected, though. Most men would have been curled up in a fetal position and whimpering by now if they’d been knocked out by a woman, even one with superstrength. No matter whether they were ubervillains or not, getting beaten up by a girl was enough to make the strongest man just fall to pieces.

  “Where am I?” Angel asked, looking around at the gleaming medical equipment.

  “At Fearless Five headquarters. In one of our sick bays. It’s where we bring team members to rest and recuperate when we get injured—or other people who need medical attention.”

  Angel struggled to sit up. I put my hand under his shoulder to help him, but he flinched and jerked away. I dropped my hand and stepped back, my heart heavy and aching. I twisted my engagement ring around my finger. His eyes went to the ring, and my hand stilled.

  Angel managed to raise himself up. He fell back against the bed, panting a bit from the effort. When he got his breath back, his eyes went around the room again, more focused now. Taking in every little detail. Then, he peeked under the covers. In addition to being the chief of police, my father was also a first-rate doctor. He’d cut Angel’s skintight pants off so he could examine his whole body. I’d been torn between watching and leering and staying away. In the end, I’d stayed away, not wanting to see any more of the damage I’d done than necessary.

  “Nice jammies,” Angel said. “Do they come with the room?”

  How he could crack a joke at a time like this, I didn’t know. But some of the anguish dripped out of my heart. “You might say that.”

  Angel examined the rest of his body, flexing his arms and legs and making sure everything was in working order, more or less. His hands went up to his face and the mask that was still there. His head snapped around to me.

  “Did you...?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t peek and see who you really are under there. Neither did the others.”

  Tension ebbed out of his body.

  “I didn’t need to look under your mask,” I continued. “Because I knew who
you were already.”

  “Really?” he said in a fake, cheery, carefree voice. “And who do you think I am?”

  “Johnny Bulluci.”

  Angel looked at me. His shoulders sagged. Then, he did the last thing I expected him to do. He reached up and yanked his mask off. Johnny Bulluci stared back at me. Green eyes. Tawny hair. Golden skin. My gaze traced over his features. He was still as handsome as handsome could be, even with the blue and purple bruises that colored his face.

  “How did you figure it out?” he asked in a low voice.

  “You gave yourself away with all those angels,” I replied in a soft tone. “All angels, all the time.”

  Johnny’s green eyes narrowed, and he looked at me. Wondering. Thinking. Remembering. And he knew. Just as I had known. The knowledge blazed in his eyes.

  There was only one thing left to do. I reached up and took off my own mask.

  “Hello, Johnny,” I said.

  Chapter Twenty

  The act shocked him as much as his unmasking had startled me.

  Johnny’s eyes widened. “Fiona? You’re really...Fiera?”

  “In the flaming flesh,” I said, tossing my mask on the foot of the bed.

  We stared at each other. Then, Johnny threw his head back and laughed.

  He laughed...

  And laughed...

  And laughed...

  “What’s so funny?” I growled.

  “This! Us!” he said, wiping away tears of mirth from his battered face. “Look at us. You’re a superhero, and I’m...well, I’m not exactly as pure as vanilla. We just got into a knock-down, drag-out brawl over the life of an ubervillain who doesn’t deserve to live. You beat the snot out of me, and now I find out the superhero who kicked my ass is, in fact, the woman I’ve been seeing. It’s absurd. It’s ridiculous. It’s just...funny!”