Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel (11 page)

A swooping sound came from behind her. Niobe spun, heart pounding. Then she lowered her gun. A Maori woman progressing into old age hovered in the air behind her, a few feet off the ground. An elaborate
moko
was tattooed on her chin, and her lower lip was completely black. The woman’s grey hair was tied back in a bun, and her clothes were simple woollen garments, but no one would be fool enough to mistake her for a simple woman.

“
Tena koe
, Spook,” the woman said.

“G’morning, Hine-nui-te-po.” Niobe nodded at the woman and holstered her gun. “Are these some of yours?”

“Mmm, unfortunately,” she said, shaking her head at the speedster. “This stupid boy calls himself Quick-fire. He
will
be on fire when I’m finished with him.”

Quick-fire groaned something unintelligible. The stun round was starting to wear off. Niobe stepped away from Quick-fire and allowed him to recover himself. He put a hand to his head, groaning, then slowly pulled himself off the ground.

Hine-nui-te-po floated forwards and positioned herself in front of the speedster. The hovering gave her a good few inches on the boy, despite his height. Niobe didn’t know what her real name was. The original Hine-nui-te-po was the goddess of night and death in Maori mythology. Few would argue with this woman’s resemblance.

Quick-fire seemed to shrink as Hine-nui-te-po stared at him. Under her gaze, he grew thinner, almost transparent. He didn’t cry out, he just shivered. The Carpenter was herding the other young men he’d captured towards them. The boys were all turning pale. They kept their eyes on their feet.

Finally, Hine-nui-te-po ceased her deathly stare. Quick-fire gasped and stumbled. Instinctively, Niobe reached out to steady him. The burn mark of her stun round sat squarely in the middle of his chest, but there was no sign of the round itself. Gabby had designed them to disintegrate on impact to better deliver the stunning charge. Niobe didn’t pretend to understand how it worked; her mind was for clues and patterns, not advanced physics. What mattered was that it did its job.

Thinking of Gabby drew the spectres of several confusing emotions out of her heart, so she turned her thoughts aside.
Later. I’ll deal with it later.

“Carpenter.” Hine-nui-te-po nodded at Solomon as he drew close. “I’m sorry about all this. The children have been on edge since we saw the raid this morning. Every year the police get more brazen.” She shot a look at the young men. “But that is no excuse for unnecessary violence.”

Solomon grinned and shrugged. “Kids.”

“The young ones don’t have respect anymore.” She turned to Quick-fire. “This is Spook and the Carpenter. They are friends.”

“Friends” was pushing it, but Niobe wasn’t going to split hairs. They needed her. The woman was on their side for now, but that would change bloody fast if Niobe or Solomon got in her bad books. Hine-nui-te-po was big on respect. And family.

“Sorry about breaking your guns,” the Carpenter said, sounding anything but. “Want me to let the kids go?”

“Please.”

The wooden fragments of the rifle stocks stopped circling the young men and flew into a ball in front of Solomon. Niobe could swear she saw a few of the larger pieces whack the boys on the legs and backside as he drew them together. They yelped, but said nothing.

“We’re looking for your husband,” Niobe said.

Hine-nui-te-po nodded as if she’d been expecting it. “You brought
koha
?”

Niobe patted her pocket. The Blind Man wasn’t dumb. He was the best, and he wouldn’t work for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came knocking. Not without an offering.

Hine-nui-te-po nodded again. “The boys will stay here.” Her gaze swept over Quick-fire and the others. “Hopefully they learn to tell friend from foe before the police come around again. They’ll probably invite the pigs in to have tea with us.”

The boys slinked away. A couple of them shoved Quick-fire as they walked.

Hine-nui-te-po watched their backs until they were out of sight, then turned her gaze back to Niobe and Solomon. “Come. My husband is looking forward to this
korero.
”

Yeah, Niobe bet he was. Solomon met her eye, shrugged, and slapped her on the shoulder.

They followed the floating woman through the ruined streets to see a blind man about a kidnapped boy.

7: In Another’s Shoes

Ballista

Real name:

Amy Duncan

Powers:

Enhanced vision, pinpoint accuracy.

Notes:

Acted as an independent crime-fighter throughout New Zealand in the late 1950s. Her powers led her to favour an oversized modified crossbow as her weapon of choice. Most famous for breaking up the child prostitution ring led by former Attorney-General Julian Radcliffe. Accepted registration and kill-switching after the Seoul Accord was signed, then retired.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #1894]

The Blind Man sat alone in a straight-backed chair in the middle of what had once been a hotel pub. The Maori man had too much skin; it sagged around his chin and cheeks, but there was an air of dignity around him. His eyes were clouded, constantly shifting. He was blind to this world, but he could still see things no one else could. He cocked his left ear towards them as they came into the room.

Hine-nui-te-po hovered in first, announcing herself and her guests to her husband. Niobe followed. Solomon came in last, but when the Blind Man beckoned them forwards, Hine-nui-te-po silently urged Solomon in front of them. It was a nod to the old ways, where the men’s duty on entering another’s meeting place was to protect the women and guard their retreat. That irked her; she was capable of taking care of her own damn self. But she did what she was told and stayed behind the Carpenter. She was a guest. She’d abide by their rules, for now.

They stopped just inside the doorway, and for a moment, there was silence in the room. The old pub had long been stripped of fixtures and wallpaper, if they had even survived the bomb. In their place were portraits of ancestors and wooden carvings of
taniwha
. They lacked the skill of a professional, but had a life all of their own.

A familiar policeman’s uniform hung in the corner. She smiled at that. Back when she was a member of the Wardens, they’d investigated a disturbance in a small town to the north of Neo-Auckland. Police had been trying to evict the Blind Man’s people from contested land. Fifty coppers had stormed the makeshift settlement the Blind Man had established there, but within minutes, the police guarding the perimeter lost radio contact with the team. Half an hour later, all the officers marched out like clockwork dolls, stark naked except for their helmets. Not one of them could recall what had happened after they entered. The coppers wanted the Wardens to show the Blind Man and his people the business end of their fists, but Niobe, Carpenter, and Battle Jack decided some battles weren’t worth fighting.

“Husband,” Hine-nui-te-po said, finally breaking the silence, “the Carpenter and Spook want to speak to you.”

The Blind Man’s face was fixed in a small smile. He wore a black double-breasted suit that’d seen better days, and his left hand gripped the handle of a ceremonial walking stick carved with outlandish faces. The eyes near the haft of the stick were set with paua shell, giving them a rainbow sheen. The Blind Man remained motionless except for his mouth.

“What do you seek?” He spoke quietly, but his deep voice resonated.

“Knowledge,” the Carpenter said. “To know what we do not know, to see what we have not seen.”

Solomon always got a kick out of the ceremony. Niobe was just thankful the Blind Man didn’t draw it out any more than he already did.

The Blind Man’s smile did not move, but the crinkles around his shifting eyes deepened. “Come,” he said.

Solomon led them forwards. At a gesture from Hine-nui-te-po, they drew up chairs in front of the man. Silence reigned for a few moments while Hine-nui-te-po retreated and returned with drinks. It was sauvignon blanc for the Carpenter and Niobe, and a tall glass of lager for the Blind Man. She pulled her mask up to uncover her lips and they sipped in silence. The wine wasn’t bad.

The Blind Man turned his ear to his wife. “Thank you.”

Hine-nui-te-po floated from the room, leaving them alone. When she was gone, Niobe pulled the small package from her pocket and laid it at the Blind Man’s feet. It was filled with twenty dollar notes, but it was only part of the
koha
. The rest would come later.

The Blind Man didn’t reach for the package, but he gave a small nod and raised his head. “You are seeking something. Someone.”

The Carpenter nodded even though the Blind Man wouldn’t see it. “An American boy. He’s got himself lost. His uncle thinks he was taken.”

Niobe reached into another pocket and pulled out the small plastic bag. Inside was the photograph Frank Julius had given her and the small brown hair she’d pulled from the watch. She placed them on the floor alongside the bag of cash. That got the Blind Man’s attention. His milky gaze shifted slowly down to the photo, and he cocked his head to the side as if listening to it.

“Hmmm,” he said after a few moments. “The trail is faded. You were slow.”

Niobe moistened her lips. Smug bastard. “Can you still read him?”

“Yes,” the Blind Man said. “Barely. But the price is high.”

She met the Carpenter’s eyes. His mouth was in a tight line; no grins from him now. She could make out the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes where the mask didn’t quite cover. He bowed his head. “What’s the damage?”

The Blind Man took a long pull on his beer, smacked his lips, and smiled. “Two years of childhood.”

She balked. Two years? He’d never taken more than a few months from Solomon before. The bastard was insane. He had to be pulling their legs. But his face was fixed in that same half-smile that betrayed nothing.

Solomon seemed to be having trouble speaking. His eyes were bugging, and she could see the wheels turning. Her own mind was doing the same thing.

“Carpenter,” she said, “forget it. It’s too much. We’ll find another way.”

He blinked a few times, then shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. We’re blind here, Spook.” He glanced at the Blind Man. “No offense.”

“Carpenter….”

“You know we have to. The kid’s been gone for what, two days now? We don’t have time to do this the slow way. There hasn’t been a ransom, there hasn’t been anything. That’s not good.”

He was right. The longer they took to find him, the more likely they’d find a corpse. It wasn’t just the cash driving her, not just the chance to escape this hell. She wanted to save him. She
needed
to save him.
He’s only thirteen.

But the price…. “It’s too expensive,” she said. “It’s not the old days. You can’t take everything on yourself.”

“Yeah?” he said. “You took on the coppers this morning, didn’t you?”

“That’s different and you know it. This is a job. You’ve got kids to look after.”

“So has Frank Julius.” He pointed at the smiling boy in the picture. “The kid needs our help. Where else is he going to get it?

Bloody hell. Solomon was so determined to be a superhero. There was no point trying to change his mind. She sighed and looked away.
Goddamn hero.

The Blind Man’s smile hadn’t shifted. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I wasn’t clear. I already have all I want from you, Solomon Doherty.”

Solomon flinched at the sound of his real name. “What do you mean?”

“The price is two years of Spook’s childhood. Ages ten to twelve should do it.”

Her blood chilled. The Blind Man had never taken her memories before. Solomon never spoke about what’d happened, but there was always something in his eyes afterwards, a kind of suppressed grief. An irretrievable loss.

The Blind Man wouldn’t just read the memories of her childhood. He would take them. All she would have left was a hole, a vacuum. Another quiver ran through her. Her parents died in the nuke blast when she was thirteen. She’d been away at a boarding school in New Plymouth at the time. When the bomb hit, nothing they owned remained. Nothing except Niobe. Her memories of them were few as it was. And the Blind Man wanted to take most of what still remained.

“No way,” Solomon said. “That’s never been the deal before. Do me again.”

The Blind Man just smiled.

“Do me,” Solomon said.

She snapped out of her reverie. “Shut up, Carpenter. Let me think.”

“Have you made your decision?” the Blind Man asked.

Solomon stared at her and gave the smallest shake of his head, but she ignored it. He’d been right before. Something bad was going to happen to Sam, she felt it in her gut. It didn’t matter if his uncle was the target, the boy would pay the price. He was only thirteen.

Don’t think about it like that,
she told herself.
It’s just a job. We need the cash. That’s all.
Fifty thousand dollars. And then she could get Gabby away from this place, before it killed them both.