Nightingale (16 page)

“Until tomorrow,” Wesley said, dropping my hand.

“Until tomorrow,” I replied, resisting the urge to massage the tingles out of my fingers.

He walked over to the couch, where Rascal perched, his brown eyes taking in everything. Wesley gave Rascal another pat, which the puppy happily accepted. Then, the businessman opened the door and left my office.

I stood until the door swung shut again. Then, I leaned over and braced my hands on my desk. My fingers tingled. My knees twitched. Tremors shook my body.

Fear was not a pleasant feeling, and I’d been so afraid he’d known. That he’d figured out I was Nightingale. That he’d finally realized I was nothing but a drab, brown wren.

Fear of disappointment, fear of rejection—those were two more reasons I didn’t date much. I’d had more than my share of both. Ryan had just been the last in a long string of breakups. Each time, each experience, each failed relationship stacked another brick on top of the wall ringing my heart.
 

But Talon had soared over my defenses as easily as he’d defeated Bandit’s goons. And I’d been thrilled by it—happy to fly up there with him, if only for one night.

But now it was time to come back down to earth. Back down to Bigtime, where things always seemed to work out for other people, instead of for me. Back behind my wall, where I’d be safe once more.
      

I breathed in, forcing the cool, stale office air into my lungs until I got control of myself. No matter what had happened between Wesley “Talon” Weston and me, it didn’t change the fact that I had a major event to plan—and less a week to make everything perfect again.

I straightened and pushed the button on the intercom. “Chloe?”
 

“Yes, Abby?”

“Get Kyle Quicke on the phone. I need to order five hundred more pounds of chicken.”

Chapter Twelve

I spent the rest of the day feeling like I’d been split into two people, like so many superheroes and ubervillains before me. Gentleman George. Captain Sushi. Caveman Stan.

First, there was Abby Appleby, who called Kyle Quicke and the other usual suspects to order supplies and book workers, space, and more for the Weston event.
 

Then, there was Wren, who kept remembering her time with Talon and comparing him to Wesley Weston—and found little lacking in either man.

“Abby?” Chloe said.

I jumped, startled by the sound of her voice. My assistant hovered in front of the desk, Rascal cradled in her arms.

“Did I scare you?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” I said, letting out a breath. “You did.”

She frowned. “But you always hear me come in.”

With my superhearing, I could hear every move Chloe made, even when she was at her desk, the door to my office shut, and I had music on. She was a good employee, only goofing off and playing computer solitaire late in the afternoon when she was killing time before she went home.

“I guess I was just distracted planning the Weston event.”
 

Chloe nodded. “Well, I’m leaving for the day. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, because I’m leaving too.”

She blinked. “You are? But it’s only five. You never leave before seven, especially when you have a new client.”

I shut down my computer. “Well, tonight I’m going home. I’ll work on the Weston event from there.”

Chloe’s hazel eyes widened, and she stared at me like I’d sprouted blue fur. Maybe I should. People would probably pay more attention to me. Even Wesley might notice me then, at least until Yeti Girl arrived on the scene.

Chloe stared at me as I pulled on my hat, coat, scarf, and gloves. She handed Rascal to me, and I stuck him into the pocket on my vest. The puppy wiggled around until he got comfortable, then licked my chin with his wet, rough tongue.
 

“You ready to go home, dog?” I asked.

Rascal barked. To my surprise, he’d actually been good today, sleeping and amusing himself and not making too much noise. I scratched his ears. His tail thumped against my heart through the fabric of my vest.
 

I also grabbed the bag from the pet store containing the supplies Chloe had bought before turning off the office lights and heading to the antechamber. Chloe stood by the elevator, her finger on the hold button. She let go when I stepped inside, and the doors closed.
 

“You’re
really
going home.” From the awe in her voice, you’d think I’d just done some incredible feat, like climbing to the top of the Skyline Bridge and diving off into the waters of Bigtime Bay.

“Yes, I’m
really
going home.”

We reached the ground floor, and the doors slid open. Chloe gave Rascal a final pat, and we said our goodbyes. She crossed the street, her black hair swinging as she walked toward the subway. I turned the opposite direction and headed toward my building.

More of the snow had either been cleared or melted away, thanks to the plows and the superstrong salt the city workers used to coat the streets. Now, the wet stuff only reached up past my ankles. The winter sun painted the sky in dusky purples and twilight grays as it dipped behind the towering skyscrapers. The soft, pretty colors reminded me of a lovely painting I’d seen of a sunset at Cypress Mountain. The wind caressed my cheeks—cold, but not unbearably so. More people scurried on the streets, and cars rumbled through downtown, zipping by faster than they had this morning. Everyone was getting back to their usual snow-free routine.

Including Bigtime’s superheroes and ubervillains.
 

A mob of people clustered at the end of the block next to a black van. I spotted a flash of silver, and smoke filled the air. That van, that silver color, that smell. It could only mean one thing—that the Fearless Five were here. More specifically, Karma Girl and Fiera.
 

I caught sight of the two superheroes. Fiera stood in the middle of the crowd, as eye-catching as ever in her skin-hugging, orange-red cat suit. She bench-pressed a fanboy over her head with one hand, while his buddy took pictures. With her free hand, Fiera shot sparks up into the air, her trademark salute. Karma Girl leaned against the
F5
van, signing an occasional autograph, but mostly just watching Fiera show off.
 

I slowed down, threading my way through the milling mob. Unlike Piper and the other fangirls in Bigtime, I had little interest in superheroes, unless I needed them to do an appearance at an event.
 

A spark of blue caught my attention, and I turned my head. Karma Girl stared at me, her eyes glowing as bright as sapphires, almost like she could hear my thoughts. I waved at her. I knew Karma Girl better than some of the other heroes, and a few weeks ago she’d helped guard some toys for an annual Christmas charity drive that had been on display inside Oodles o’ Stuff. Of course, a couple of ubervillains had stolen the toys and were going to sell them on the Internet before Karma Girl managed to stop them. It had been a close call—too close for my liking—but the toy giveaway had gone off as planned, thanks to Karma Girl and the rest of the city’s heroes.

I looked at Fiera, then back at Karma Girl. She grinned and shrugged, as if to say
What can you do?
I shrugged back and walked on.

I’d gone about two blocks when I felt a series of vibrations under my feet that had nothing to do with the rush-hour traffic. I stopped, concentrating. The vibrations grew closer and stronger, as if something very large was headed my way. The vibrations traveled up through the street and into the surrounding buildings, until even the traffic lights swung back and forth from the force of them.
 

I looked over my shoulder. Through the gathering dark, something charged my way. Something big. Something blue. Something brawny.
 

I flattened myself up against the nearest building. A seven-foot-tall woman lumbered past. Blue fur covered her body, while her eyes glowed a milky white. She wore what looked like a blue toga and sandals, and her feet were big and bare with toes as long as my fingers. Yeti Girl. Another one of Bigtime’s ubervillains. Sort of. Yeti Girl was a superstrong being who liked to smash things because the noise amused her. Every once in a while, she tore through town, flattening cars and leveling buildings before the cops and the nearest superhero managed to shoot her full of tranquilizer darts.
 

      
I’d just stepped back onto the street when I felt another series of vibrations—this time quick and smooth and churning. I sighed and put my back against the wall once more.
 

Swifte zoomed down the street after Yeti Girl, speeding by so fast he didn’t even whip up any snow. A moment later, an SNN news van careened after him. The van took a turn on two wheels as the driver tried to keep up with the superfast superhero on the icy street. The squeal of tires screeched into my brain, and my temples throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine. Rascal barked, excited by the sudden action and wanting to follow the news van. No doubt the pint-sized puppy thought he could help corral Yeti Girl, even though she was twenty times his size.

“Sorry, dog,” I said. “We’re going home. I’ve still got work to do.”

After making sure nothing else was coming out of the dark to squish me, I crossed over to the next block. It was quieter here, so quiet I didn’t even see the figure dressed in black until I was about five feet from her. She wore black leather from head to toe as so many of the heroes and villains did, but what set her apart were the snakes—live snakes covered her arms like turquoise and coral bangle bracelets. A few more curled around her neck and shoulders, while still more dangled from the elaborate headdress she wore. Black Samba leaned against a bus stop sign, doing a little shimmy, her arms crossed over her chest to ward off the cold.
 

Rascal stuck his head out of my coat a little more, intrigued by this new person. I looked down at Rascal, then back at the superhero. She had snakes. Those were animals, albeit cold-blooded ones. Maybe she’d want another. It was worth a shot.

I marched over to the superhero, plastered a smile on my face, and tapped her on the shoulder in a spot that wasn’t covered by a sleeping snake.

“Yes?” the superhero asked, turning around.

“Hi, Black Samba. Sorry to bother you. I’m Abby Appleby. I met you at the petting zoo last year at Paradise Park.”

She nodded, the snakes in her headdress bobbing up and down. “I remember. You were the one who got the mice to feed to my babies.”

Contributing to the genocide of small mammals hadn’t been one of my finer moments, but it had kept the superhero and her snakes happy. “Yeah, that was me. Anyway, I was wondering how you feel about dogs.”

“Dogs?”
 

I pointed at Rascal. “Yeah, dogs. I’m trying to find him a good home.”

A bus screeched to a halt in front of the stop. Black Samba stared at Rascal, who let his tongue hang out, showing off his happy, goofy, puppy face.
      

“He’s cute, but the snakes don’t do so well with other animals,” she said. “Sorry.”

“You’re not the only one,” I muttered.

Black Samba leapt up onto the hood of the bus. She waved at the driver, then climbed onto the roof of the vehicle. The superhero tapped her foot on the metal, signaling the driver that she was ready to go. She started dancing again as the bus pulled back into traffic.

Rascal barked, and Black Samba waved goodbye to us.

“I just can’t give you away, can I, dog?” I said.

Rascal barked again.

#

I made it back to my loft without running into any more heroes or villains. I put Rascal down and shrugged out of my coat, while checking my messages. There was only one from Piper, asking how Rascal was doing. I put some food and water out for the puppy, slipped a Green Day CD into the player, plopped on the couch, and called her back. I told Piper that Rascal was doing just fine. Then I revealed exactly who had come into my office this afternoon—and his alter ego.

“You’re kidding me!” Piper squealed. “Wesley Weston is really Talon?!”

I held the phone out until Piper got control of herself—and her voice. “I’m positive it’s him. His hands felt the same. He smelled the same. His voice was the same. It
has
to be him.”

“How exciting!” she said. “So what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do now? I’m going to plan his event.”

“And?” Piper prompted.

“And what? I’m not going to tell him who I really am, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The thought made my stomach churn with fear.

“Abby—”

“No, Piper,” I cut her off. “I’m not going to tell him. There’s no point in it. It would just make things weird. Well, weirder. It was a one-night stand, and now, it’s over.”

“It’s not over,” she said in a firm voice. “It’s just getting started. This is destiny, Abby. Destiny with a capital D. She’s tapping on your shoulder and saying
Hey, this great guy is for you
. Do you really want to ignore her?”

I rolled my eyes. In addition to being a total fangirl, Piper was a hopeless romantic. She believed in destiny, true love, and karma, despite her breakup with Kyle.