Sidekick (17 page)

I glanced behind me for something, anything, to help.

What I saw was not helpful.

In fact it was really, really unhelpful.

A small light blinked from a device pinned to the wall with duct tape.

Another bomb! Ryder had missed one!

I spun back to see the Sultana striding across the floor towards the gun.

I went into mental hand-wringing mode.

What was I supposed to do? Ryder had said to do nothing—to let her handle every situation. But she couldn’t handle every situation! And the Sultana was getting closer and closer!

Gah!

I did the only thing I could. I jumped forward, grabbed the gun, and ran. Unfortunately, I ran directly towards the cast of opera singers. They took one look at me and started screaming.

“I’m a good guy!” I shouted.

It didn’t make a difference.

The singers dressed as peasants ran about like hysterical farm animals in a pen. Chaos descended. Pagliacci stood shouting in his deep operatic voice while the other singers pin-balled off some inert circus-bots. Their programming probably didn’t cover this scenario.

Through the flying straw, I could see Ryder fighting her way through the melee towards me. Aw, that was nice…maybe she was checking to see if I was okay. But where was the Sultana?

Oh crap! Ryder wasn’t checking on me. She was chasing the Sultana, now crouched right before me like a tiger in the weeds of mayhem.

Worse yet, I was so focused on tiger number one, I didn’t see tiger number two at my side. I turned just as Pulcinella launched himself into the air.

We tumbled to the floor.

“Give me the gun!” he screeched through clenched teeth.

I tightened my grip on the barrel. “Never!”

My mind worked furiously to figure out everyone’s endgame. Ryder probably thought she had disarmed all the bombs, so her goal must be to subdue the Sultana and bring her to justice. The Sultana, on the other hand, wouldn’t know that the bombs
had
been disarmed, so she would be desperate to get out of here—and Pulcinella probably thought they needed the gun to shoot their way back to the roof.

That left me.

I had to get to the other bomb.

“Give it to me!” Pulcinella shrieked, viciously tugging at the weapon. I went rag-doll limp, putting all of my strength into my hands. All the tugging shook an idea loose. It was so simple. I had to pull the ultimate girl move.

I kicked the clown in the nuts.

Pulcinella made a round shape with his mouth and hit the ground like a rock.

I jumped to my feet and sprinted offstage with the gun towards the blinking light.

It didn’t look like much, but I still took a steadying breath before lifting up its flap.

Underneath blinked a timer.

Five minutes.

Well, that was plenty of time for a clueless first-timer to disarm a bomb.

I spotted a tangle of red, yellow, and blue wires nestled below the blinking numbers. They looked easy to pull out. I considered yanking them all free at once, but that seemed reckless. I bit my lip. I could really use some help. I craned my head back.

Ryder, with circus-bots clutching at her limbs, was shouting at me and shaking her head back and forth in what looked like a distinct
no
gesture.

“What?” I screamed before I realized that Ryder didn’t even know what I was doing over here. She wasn’t going to be of any help. I turned back to the bomb.

This was no time for inaction.

Four minutes left.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my fingers around a wire…but I didn’t pull. Maybe I should give it another minute or two.

Suddenly someone grabbed my hair and yanked me back.

With me went the wire.

Pulcinella and I stumbled into the crowd. Luckily, the mad rumpus swept him away.

I quickly scurried back over to the bomb.

Thirty seconds.
Uh oh
. Wrong wire.

I started to run in the opposite direction. I had tried bravery. It hadn’t worked. Now I was going to try running away.

“Bremy!” Ryder shouted. It was the first time she had ever spoken my name.

Crap
. I hurried back over to the bomb.

“What do I do?” I shouted.

Ryder tossed a fire-eater over her shoulder, but I could have sworn, as she did, I saw her mouth the word green.

Okay. Green. Green.

I looked back at the bomb. No green wire.

Twenty-five. Twenty-four
.

I needed to do something fast.

Something caught the corner of my eye.

Twenty-one. Twenty
.

I spotted a handle on the wall, above it, a sign marked garbage….in green letters.

That had to be what she meant—throw the bomb down the garbage chute!

I ripped the device from the wall.

Seven. Six. Five
.

I yanked the handle on the chute.

Stuck.

I yanked harder and screamed, Wimbledon-style.

It gave!

I tossed the bomb into the slanted drawer…

Three. Two
.

…and slammed in shut.

I covered my ears and spun on my heel to make a run for it. I didn’t get half a step before it blew.

I had never experienced anything like it.

The raw power of physics slammed into me. I catapulted off the ground launched by a push of air that bore the strength of a freight train turned pro wrestler.

I smacked the floor. Stunned.

I blinked my eyes open.

People screamed and stumbled over one another in a rainfall of dust and plaster, but I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything but a painful high-pitched ringing.

I turned slowly to see what was happening on the stage. The Sultana was gone, so were Pulcinella and the circus-bots.

The dusty singers, however, were still there, huddled around something on the floor.

Ryder.

I scrambled over.

The superhero lay pinned under an enormous chandelier…and she looked pissed.

I immediately moved to push the chandelier off. It probably weighed more than the entire building.

“Lift, you idiots!” I screamed without being able to hear it. “She’s not The Phantom! She saved your lives!”

Together, we tilted the massive structure on its side. Ryder slid out.

We looked at each other.

“I did good, huh?” I asked feeling pretty beamy.

Ryder’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“You let the bomb go off,” I saw her mouth. “Why didn’t you cut the green wire?”

“Because there was no green wire,” I said, squinting my eyes to focus on her moving lips.

“Underneath the secondary panel?”

“Secondary panel? How was I to know there was a secondary panel!”

“If you don’t know about secondary panels then perhaps you shouldn’t attempt to disarm bombs!”

“You were busy!”

“I was coming!” she said loud enough for me to hear through my ear fog. “I told you not to—”

She cut herself off and took a breath…she may have even been counting to ten.

Suddenly she spun on her heel and ran for the stage exit leading to the stairs.

I took off after her.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was getting a bum rap. I had done a good job, all things considered.

A huge boulder of plaster crashed down in front of me.

Fine. There was some damage, but it could have been a whole lot worse.

I leapt over the plaster, blinking dust out of my eyes.

Bremy St. James didn’t give up that easy. I was going to help Ryder subdue the Sultana and that hair-pulling clown…and she was going to thank me for it.

I chased Ryder to the roof of the opera house.

Five helicopters hovered over the building. The circus-bots were already climbing into them with suspended rope ladders.

We were too late.

I stared dejectedly up at the underbelly of one of the whirring machines. I spotted something. It didn’t register at first. Then it clicked. Someone had made a mistake. Stamped on one of the metal plates, almost too tiny to see, was a little orange happy face. That was it! Proof! My father
was
bankrolling the Sultana’s organization.

I had to tell Ryder.

I moved towards her. She stood a few feet from the edge of the building emanating rage.

“Hey Ryder!” I called out, actually hearing my own muffled words this time. “It’s not a total loss! I’ve got something to tell you!”

She didn’t turn. What the heck was she doing? The helicopters rotated in the air to leave.

I walked towards her practicing my better luck next time speech. At the end, I’d throw in a little pat on the back. She looked like she needed it.

Then I saw Ryder’s muscles tense.

In a flash, she was running. No, sprinting. Straight for the edge of the building!

“Ryder!” I screamed.

Right before she went over the edge, she leapt into the air, arms outstretched.

No way! No freaking way!

I watched her long beautiful form fly through the air. The building was gone from underneath her…nothing but a dead drop to concrete.

Oh God. She wasn’t going to make it!

I couldn’t watch! I had to watch!

I peeked through my fingers. Just as she reached the arc of her jump, her fingers brushed the landing gear of the helicopter.

Got it!

She had made it! She had freaking made it!

I jumped up and down on the gravelly rooftop of the building. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen.

She was nuts! Absolutely nuts!

But that was…AWESOME!

Chapter Twenty

It took a while for me to stop jumping.

I watched Ryder’s dangling form disappear into the distance. I should have been worried for her. She wasn’t exactly in the safest of situations. Then again, she had just jumped onto a flying helicopter after fighting off a horde of dead-eyed circus performers. She could probably handle anything.

I put my hands on my hips.

Now what?

I found myself looking around the rooftop for the after-party. Nothing.

Going home felt anticlimactic, but I didn’t see any other choice. I would go to Ryder’s place first thing in the morning. By then the Sultana and her crew would probably be in custody, but I still needed to tell Ryder about what I had learned. I suddenly remembered her using my real name. She knew who I was. Doubts swirled in my belly. Was that why she had given me a chance? To get closer to my father? I quickly banished the thought. It didn’t matter. She needed me.

I climbed down the fire escape. Hopefully the alley wasn’t cordoned off. I still had to avoid the coppers. Next time I would come better prepared with a change of clothes.

I dropped to the pavement and tiptoed to the corner where the alley met the street. I peeked around the building’s edge. Empty. Excellent. I pulled back. The police had taped off the road by the opera house’s main entrance, leaving the side streets clear. I would just take one more look, and—

POW!

Knuckles connected with my nose.

“Son of a bitch!” I screamed, cupping my face. I blinked away tears to get a look at my attacker.

“Queenie?” I asked through my hands.

“Horrible neighbor?”

I peeled back my mask.

“It
is
you,” she said with a bit of surprise, disgust, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Going to the opera.”

“Dressed like that?” I questioned, once again taking in her outfit.

“I enjoy making rich people uncomfortable,” she said, face deadpan. Then her bored voice turned slightly mocking. “Look! An Asian in a kimono! Where do we look? What do we do?”

Wow. This was the most Queenie had ever revealed about herself. Maybe I could use the opportunity to bond.

“Ha! I get it. They must look at you like you’re Godzilla or something.”

“What? You think all Asians are Japanese? I’m Korean.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Was that racist?”

Queenie sighed with distaste. She lifted her hand in front of her, curled two fingers, and hopped them through the air. Then she made an explosion sign with the same hand. “Bunny. Too easy.”

“Right,” I muttered.

“How are
you
working with Dark Ryder?”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Queenie.”

She considered this.

Do you want a ride home?”

Whoa. What had just happened? Was Queenie seriously offering me a ride? I had to be on guard. It could be a trap.

“Um…sure,” I said. “Where’s your car?”

She pointed down the street away from the opera house. Under a streetlamp was a silver Smart Car.

“You don’t drive that,” I said laughing.

“What did you think I would drive?” she asked.

“Oh I don’t know…a tarantula?”

Her mouth twitched a little, almost like a smile, but more like the scary thing that ate the smile.

I followed Queenie to her car. I was terrified, but at least I wasn’t walking.

***

Queenie drove us home and, at no point did she try to eat me. She didn’t talk either though. I nearly exploded with the need to spew nervous babble, but I also wanted to prove myself un-bunny-like, so I kept my mouth shut.

When we got to our respective doors, Queenie stopped and turned to me.

“Give me your suit.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

“Give…me…your…suit.”

“Why?”

Her fake eyelashes fluttered closed. “Sometimes when you talk, I imagine pushing my thumbs into your eye sockets until the balls pop.”

“I see…Ha! Get it? I
see
? I can be very punny—”

Her eyes shot open. “Last time. Give me your suit.”

“Just a second.”

I grabbed the spare key hidden under the mat by my door. Queenie let out a disgusted sigh. What? Like anyone would want to break into my apartment.

I ducked behind the door and peeled off my outfit. It took a bit of skin with it in places where the fabric had melted. I then reached around the door and passed the suit to Queenie.

She grabbed it.

“Um…thank y—”

Queen’s door slammed. A second later electronica music blared through the wall.