Heroine Complex (35 page)

As I got closer to the kitchen, I heard yelling.

“Just concentrate on this right now, love. I'm sure she didn't mean to—”

“Oh, I'm sure she
did
.”

I walked into the kitchen to find Lucy and Bea in the midst of what appeared to be an ill-timed stand-off. Scott was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

“Guys—” I started.

“How could you?” hissed Bea, zeroing in on me. Her face was white with rage and her fury hung in the air like a physical thing, forcing me to take a step back.

I held up my hands, attempting to placate her. “Whatever you're upset about, it's not a good time.”

“You threw away my plane ticket. My plane ticket to Dad.”

Dammit. How had she found out about that? I'd taken the stupid trash out myself.

“Let's talk about this later,” I said, keeping my tone as firm as possible. “It's not as important as—”

“You didn't even
mention
it to me.”

“Because I knew it would end badly,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “You know how he is, Bea.”

“He sent me an email asking if I was coming,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at her laptop, which was sitting on the kitchen table. “And he said—”

“Why would you trust anything he says? The man abandoned us.”

“Why should I trust anything
you
say?” she countered. “Since you covered up the fact that he asked us to come to him.”

“Beatrice. Seriously. Can you please just—”

“No. I won't ‘just' anything.” She advanced on me again, hands balled at her sides, eyes flashing with rage. I recoiled. I felt like that rage was piercing me in the heart. “I've listened and I've worked hard and I've followed you around like a stupid little puppy dog and you lied to me about the most important thing.”

She pushed past me. “I'm done!” she screamed over her shoulder, her stompy feet echoing through the hall.

“Lucy,” I murmured. “Scott. She's not going to talk to me. Can one of you . . . ?”

“I'll go,” Scott said, rising to his feet. He looked like he hadn't slept in a month. “Evie. You have to get her back.”

I knew he didn't mean Bea. I squeezed his arm. “I will.”

As he left, I sat down at the kitchen table, studying Bea's computer. I took a deep breath and tried to channel all my feelings about Bea and Nate and everything else toward my ultimate goal: Beat Shasta. Save the city.

I saw that Bea had started a document that was helpfully labeled “SHASTA = BAD GUY :( FACTS AND TRIVIA!”

“She hadn't gotten very far when that email from your dad arrived,” Lucy said, sitting down next to me. “Where did Nate go? He told us he was going to his lab to do some research, and then he just disappeared.” I didn't respond. I realized she'd been passed out when the revelation of Nate's heritage had come up. And Scott and Bea hadn't even been there. Aveda and I were the only ones who knew.

I zeroed in on the single note in Bea's document: the URL for Maisy's blog. I clicked on it.

As far as I knew, Maisy's blog had been dormant since the karaoke contest. But as it loaded, I noted it had gone through a significant change. Now it was called . . .

“The Pussy Blog?” I choked out.

Lucy peered over my shoulder. “Looks like Shasta's trying to take over
everything
.”

I looked at the screen in disbelief. Maisy may have been annoying, but at least she had a sense of style. This new version of her blog was boring and basic; an endless stream of photos of Shasta posing in her shop, topped off by headlines rendered in truly unfortunate fonts. The top photo caught my eye. It displayed Shasta hugging a half-conscious Aveda to her side. The timestamp showed it was from earlier today.

“So she's holing up at her shop,” I said. “But we need a way to get through her force fields. If she incapacitates us, it's going to be a repeat of today. I can't incinerate her if I can't control where I'm aiming.”

Lucy frowned. “Maybe Scott has a spell?”

“Maybe.” Even with his enhanced power, I was worried about Scott effectively performing a new spell when he was so torn up over Aveda.

I clicked around on Bea's computer, allowing my mind to wander. How did you break a force field? I clicked on one of Bea's minimized documents and it brought up a spreadsheet. I squinted at it. It was a formalized version of her handwritten document categorizing the Otherworld
stones. I smiled ruefully, remembering the day I'd found the scribbled version in Nate's lab.

Then I remembered something else.

I stood up so suddenly, I knocked my chair over.

“Evie?” Lucy said, but I was already bolting down to the lab. I dashed over to the table with Bea's piles of stones and pawed through them. I located the one I was looking for and scooped it up, reading the words etched on its surface.

Anger Shatters Field.

I ran back to the kitchen.

“This is it,” I said, waving the stone at Lucy. “It's me. Bea and Nate thought this was a vague explanation of my power. But now I think it means I can shatter force fields if my fireballs come specifically from anger. Today it didn't work because I was utilizing fear.”

I was practically giddy that I'd found the solution. All I had to do was get mad. And I could totally do that.

Lucy insisted on gathering an arsenal of weapons before we left. While she was working on that, I attempted to draw up some sort of game plan and picked through the rest of the stones to see if I'd missed anything else important. But I kept coming back to the same thing: just get mad. Get
mad
.

Right before we headed out the door, I refreshed Maisy's blog to see if Shasta had left us more clues. A new picture popped up. This one had a timestamp of just a few seconds earlier.

The background and setup were the same. It was still Shasta's lingerie shop, and Shasta herself was still at the forefront of the photo. But this time she had her arm locked around someone else. Someone tall and sulky-looking.

Lucy gave a little yelp. “She's got Bea?! How did that happen? Where'd Scott go?”

The feelings I'd been so focused on channeling exploded to the surface. Anger bubbled through me, thick and toxic.

“Yeah,” I said. “I don't think getting mad's going to be a problem.”

I LET MY
anger power me all the way to Pussy Queen, stomping through the ten-block walk with Lucy hot on my heels.

The lingerie shop's entrance was charred thanks to its earlier encounter with my fireball. I stared at it, gearing myself up.

I could take Shasta down. I could save my friends. I could save the whole freakin' city. I
could
, dammit.

I was suddenly aware that I looked extremely un-superhero-like. I was wearing jeans and the cartoon duck T-shirt and my hair had been stuffed into a half-assed ponytail.

I was still a mess, inside and out.

But it didn't matter.
No one
could match my rage right now. And I wasn't trying to shove it down or repress or ignore it. I was going to
use
it.

“Just so you know: I'm not entirely sure incinerating Shasta will destroy her,” I said to Lucy. “Her hybrids have the ability to reconstitute themselves. She might, too.”

Lucy planted her hands on her hips. She had strapped swords and knives and nunchucks all over her body. She looked like an adorable pixie Rambo. “Then some other solution will present itself, love,” she said. “Half a plan is better than no plan. And we've got at least sixty percent of a plan.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “You don't have to go in there with me, you know.”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled. “Save your martyr-esque declarations for some weaker soul.”

I gave her a grateful nod. And with that, we burst through the door.

I'd barely gotten a look at the now infamous Pussy Queen—which was an unremarkable series of racks of boring pastel underwear, no neon in sight—when Shasta threw a force field around us. She snapped her fingers and once again, my limbs froze up. She had changed into a fresh vintage dress, I noted, a figure-hugging black sheath from the forties. She gave us a sly smile, her bright red mouth a slash against her pale skin.

“At least she fixed her lipstick,” muttered Lucy.

I took stock of everyone else in the room, even though the mere act of turning my head was agony. Maisy and Stu were positioned behind Shasta, their aggravated expressions indicating they'd had enough of this whole minion business. Aveda was sitting on the floor, looking dazed, like she wasn't quite aware of what was going on. Scott was sprawled next to her, unconscious. I didn't see Bea, but I was surprised to discover one more person in the room: a black-clad figure whose eyes widened the moment he saw me.

“Nate,” I gasped.

“What are you doing here?” he snarled, his face darkening. “You're supposed to be—”

“What? Sitting on my ass at HQ agonizing over the specifics of my plan to take out your mom?”

“Yes,” he spat out. “That's exactly what you're supposed to be doing. Giving me enough time to—”

“To offer yourself up as the sole sacrifice, thereby distracting me from the fact that I need four whole minions, not just one?” Shasta droned. “Blah, blah, blah. Nathaniel, really. Your plea to join me is so touching, but how stupid do you think I am?”

“Can anyone take a crack at that question?” muttered Maisy.

Nate turned to Shasta. “As I was trying to explain, Mother, you can now successfully accomplish what you tried all those years ago: my power is finally strong enough to add to yours and guarantee your success in opening the portal.”

Shasta rolled her eyes. “And you know that because . . . ?”

He opened his hand to reveal two of the portal stones. I craned my neck, trying to see them.

“‘Son Will Rise,'” Shasta read. “‘Once He Sees All.'”

I remembered those stones from the same pile as “You Need” and “The Golden Princess.” Nate was obviously the “son.” But what did the rest of it mean?

“Duh,” said Maisy, as if reading my thoughts. “Those two stones go together, Shast. His observation power must've gotten the same level up as all the other human abilities when you tried opening the earthquake portal on the night of the karaoke contest.” She waved a desiccated hand at Shasta. “The portal might've closed right away, but that blast of super-special Otherworld energy that came through enhanced everyone's powers. Including his. He's your ‘son' and now he can ‘rise.' Because the level up means he ‘sees all.'”

Nate nodded. “You don't need anyone else,” he said to Shasta.

He'd never intended to flee the city, I realized. He was trying to sacrifice himself. And I knew him well enough to tell that he had something up his sleeve that ensured Shasta would not, in fact, be successful in opening her damn portal. That he was trying to trick her in order to save us all.

If we got out of this, I was going to yell at him so hard for trying to play angsty, overdramatic hero. Didn't he know that was
my
job?

Shasta examined her lacquered nails. “A tempting offer. But I like to have insurance. I will take you, Nathaniel, but I see no point in giving up my other two minions.”
She jerked her head at Maisy and Stu. “And since I have a willing party to complete my little foursome . . .”

She nodded toward the dressing room. I turned my head, the force field pressing painfully against me.

Bea stepped out from behind the curtains, adjusting a dress that was a carbon copy of Shasta's black forties number. “Thanks for the dress, Shast!” she sang out. “It's so me.”

I felt a whoosh of relief that she was okay. It was instantly replaced by rage.

“Beatrice Constance Tanaka!” I snapped. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Bea met my gaze, her eyes narrowing into that perfect Tanaka Glare.

“Shasta's going to make me immortal,” she said. “A big, important immortal type person! It's gonna be frakballs awesome!”

“That is not awesome,” I said. I attempted to lunge for her and the force field retaliated, stabbing me everywhere. “That is frakballs
stupid
! Do the minions look like they're having a good time?”

Maisy mouthed “nope.” Stu frowned miserably.

“They will be,” Shasta said. “Once we rule the city. And eventually the world.”

“Yeah,” said Bea. “And anyway, Aveda doesn't want it.”

She gestured to Aveda, who raised her head and blinked a few times, as if trying to come out of a trance.

“Ah, yes,” said Shasta. “A wrinkle in my plan.” She smiled at me. “As it turns out, there was something to what you were saying earlier. My other minions accepted willingly. I didn't realize that was a requirement until I tried to turn Aveda and it didn't take.”

“You didn't realize a lot of things,” muttered Maisy.

“Unfortunately Aveda still seems to be in a daze from my efforts,” Shasta continued. “And then this one showed up trying to find Beatrice, even though she didn't want to be found.” She nodded toward Scott's limp body. “He
resisted my force field so much, it knocked him unconscious. Or maybe he's dead by now. I'm not sure.”

I gritted my teeth, tamping down on my urge to lunge at her.

“Luckily Beatrice is more adventurous than Aveda,” Shasta said. “She approached me about minion-dom after seeing my delightful blog pictures . . .”

“‘Delightful' isn't the word I'd use,” muttered Maisy.

“. . . and realizing that being your little toady for the rest of her life would simply not do,” Shasta continued.

“Bea.” Nate stepped forward. “Trust me, you don't want this.”

She glared at him. “You're just as bad a liar as Evie, Mr. Demon Spawn.”

“I'm trying to help you,” he said.

Bea shrugged. “I don't need anyone's help. I want to be different. Special.”

“Well, you'll be a demonified version of yourself with dead skin, no free will, and a lifelong debt to a pissed-off demon princess who also happens to be a psycho hosebeast,” I spat out. “That's definitely
special
.”

“Shut up,” Bea growled. “Why are you always trying to mess stuff up for me?”

“And what about your friends over there, don't you care about them?” I said. “Your new mentor just said she might have killed Scott.”

A ghost of uncertainty passed over Bea's features. Then she hardened again. “I'll fix him when I'm immortal,” she said. “No big whoop.”

I was pretty sure that wasn't within the realm of minion powers, but I bit back a retort and focused on my rage, that pure feeling bubbling up inside me. I harnessed it, concentrated on the heat flaring in my palm.

Anger shatters field,
I chanted inside my head.
Anger shatters field
.

My hands were balled into tight fists. Somehow, Shasta's dumb force fields kept catching me in positions that
were not optimal for fireball-throwing. I had to open my hand gradually. Otherwise the pain would knock me out. I eased my fingers back, wincing as the stabbing sensation overtook me again.

“You can do it, love,” murmured Lucy.

Shasta extended a hand to Bea. “Let's get started, shall we?”

“No.” Nate planted himself between Shasta and Bea. “Take me first.”

Shasta shrugged. “Very well. I mean, you're already your own sort of hybrid, so I technically don't need to perform this part of the ritual on you, but I suppose I can make you look like the others. It would be nice to have a matched set.” She nodded at Stu and Maisy's gray, flaky appearance. “You can be next, Beatrice.”

“Aw, man,” Bea pouted.

I eased my fingers open just a little more. The pain nearly blinded me.

Shasta grasped Nate's hand in hers and looked deeply into his eyes. She started to chant a string of complicated-sounding words I didn't understand.

“Evie,” Lucy said. “Look down and to the left if you can manage it. What is that?”

I moved my head and winced at the inevitable pain. A stark black slash had appeared on the floor. And it was growing, oozing outward like a blob of tar.

Shasta glanced at the slash, her eyes glowing with pleasure. “That's my portal: the one that will finally connect San Francisco to the Otherworld forever.”

I swallowed. As portals went, it was far less aesthetically pleasing than the sparkly gold things we usually saw. Bea stared at it. Her expression of defiance wavered, and I felt uncertainty roll off her. Shasta refocused on Nate, the gibberish words flowing from her lips. I turned my concentration back to my hand, back to the rage I was trying to harness.

Anger shatters field.

I opened my hand, screamed in pain, and let the fireball loose. It zipped toward Shasta's head, ready to fuck her up and take her out forever . . . and then bounced against the edge of the force field and disappeared.

My jaw dropped.

“Ah, yes,” Shasta said merrily. “I'm afraid your fire doesn't work inside the force field anymore.” She gave me a malicious grin. “And it is
your
fire, isn't it? Maisy and I have suspected as much since the mall incident.”

“I suspected,” Maisy said. “You jumped on the bandwagon. Like you always do.”

“So unfortunate that you of all people got that power,” Shasta said to me. “It belonged to the one real bruiser in my invasion party. All his powers were centered around pure force. It was such a shame to see those powers split up among you weakling humans. Though his other abilities are not nearly as forceful on their own.” She shook her head regretfully. “Fire is so wasted on a little nothing like you. But in any case, if you keep trying to use it, you'll have to move. And as I've already noted, if you move too much, you'll die.” She grinned. “Of course, if you don't die that way, I have plenty of other ideas.”

“What?” squeaked Bea. “Shast, you never said anything about . . . about . . .”

“About what? Killing your loser sister who's done nothing but lie to you?” Shasta said. “You should be thanking me.”

Bea shook her head. “I really don't think—”

“Oh, hush up, you'll get used to the idea,” Shasta said. “Now let me complete my ritual so we can get this city-ruling thing up and running.” She grasped Nate's arm tighter. He started to shake.

Bea took an involuntary step back, fear pulsing through her. It radiated from her and hung in the air, a near tangible thing that I could feel . . .

That I could feel.

A series of images piled into my brain, a mixed-up puzzle arranging itself into a cohesive whole.

Bea beaming at me when I told her she was like Mom, her warmth instantly brightening the room.

Bea telling me to go for it with Nate and gently rubbing my back, her calm settling my soul.

Bea screaming at me for lying to her about Dad, her anger hanging in the air like a living thing, forcing me to recoil.

She was like a reverse empath. Her emotions could change the feel of a space, could alter things in ways I was only starting to understand. Could they also alter something as seemingly immovable as a force field? Was that what the level up portal had given her?

Anger shatters field.

It wasn't me. It was her.

But she was still frightened, nowhere close to angry. She took another step back from Shasta and Nate, her body hunching over in terror.

I could change that. If there was one thing I was really good at, it was pissing her off.

I glanced at the black slash of the portal. It was getting wider.

“Lucy,” I whispered. “When the force field shatters, get Bea out of the way.”

“On it,” she whispered back. “But how are you going to—”

“Trust me.” I raised my voice again. “Bea. Remember how I lied to you?”

“What?” Her eyes went to me, saucer-like and scared.

“I lied. I fucked you over.”

Her eyes darted back and forth. “Oh. Well, I don't know about that.”