Hero Stalker

Part Twenty-Two

 "A new Centurion?" Saito, the head chef, asked me. "And she wants a giant Portland roll?"

"Well, Peregrine wants it. I can't see why anyone would want a giant piece of sushi for themselves." Though if they put it close enough to the stage, maybe it'd block everyone's view of me in the photographs.

"How are we supposed to get that much crab without scooping out Valerie's ass?" Sue asked. She was Saito's assistant—a short Asian woman three years my senior, with flawless skin and a mischievous smile. She was also psi-positive and had the ability to make small objects rotate in circles. Right now, a quarter spun on the back of her hand.

It impressed me less than it once had.

"Build a wood frame and wrap seaweed around it," I said. "We'll just put the crab on top."

"It'll still be expensive," Saito warned me.

"Who cares?" Sue said. "All comes out of the taxpayer's pocket. Do you know the Centurions use more of the city budget than half the police department? For five people!"

"Six now," I added. "Apparently."

"Whatever." Sue flipped the spinning quarter off her hand and tried to catch it. She missed.

I looked around the kitchen. Industrial refrigerators ten feet tall covered the walls. The faux wood tables in the middle where rolls were wrapped and chopped showed not a speck of debris, since Valerie would lose it if she saw the chefs working on dirty surfaces. As well as serving as the flagship store and Valerie's headquarters, the Cable Street location handled all catering and special projects. In mornings, the chopping of knives and odor of fish would overpower you, but the most of the chefs only worked from four AM to noon. We'd need to rearrange all the work stations to fit a sushi roll twelve feet in diameter.

"It's a great PR opportunity, I suppose." Saito rubbed his forehead. He had a watch tattooed on his wrist. I'd always wondered why he'd gotten it, but it seemed rude to ask.

"Until the meat starts rotting in the sun," said Sue. "Which should take 'bout ten minutes."

Saito brought up the idea of using tofu as a substitute, and the two of them started arguing about different types of tofu, a subject I knew exactly nothing about. But Valerie had assigned me to lead this crazy project, and it didn't seem very leader-like to leave in the middle of things. So I missed the 6:30 bus.

Vicky was already washing the dinner dishes by the time I got home. I had missed spaghetti night.

"Did you save anything for me?" I asked, hopefully.

Vicky looked up from the sink, a guilty look on her face. Like me, her hair was twisted into a bun on the back of her head, which only made her features seem tinier and more delicate. Underneath her bulky Shipwright Cheerleading sweatshirt, she was skinny and athletic in a way I'd never be, although at least I had three inches on her. As the baby of the family, she could get her own way with anything. She'd even convinced Mom to let her join the woman-objectifying pseudo-sport that was cheer.

"I'm sorry." she said, so sincerely no one on earth could doubt she meant it. "I stuck some in Tupperware, but Will snuck downstairs and grabbed it when my back was turned."

"Four law-abiding kids out of five isn't bad." I sighed. "I'll just go grab a sub from Wawa's."

"I'm really sorry!" she shouted at me as I headed out the door again.

When I got back, Mom was fussing over paperwork in the living room, so I had to slid my sub under my shirt to sneak it upstairs. I was an adult; the last thing I needed was a lecture on eating in my room.

Nothing new had popped up on The Worldley Fewe, or nothing that I cared about, at least. Someone might have posted some factual information about Harpy on the Villain Trackers subforum, but I didn't dare check, not after what had happened the last time I'd acted on information from that section of the site. I could still see the inside of that dark, soaking warehouse and hear Harpy's dead electric voice. The thought set my heart racing. Much as I told myself that would never happen to me again, that I was strong now, I couldn't help wanting to avoid the subject.

I switched over to Facebook. Nora Singh from my Accounts and Management class had gotten engaged. Jeremy and Tyler Jones from high school had just adopted a new puppy. I need my own place, I thought, skimming the photos. Somewhere where I could get married and have pets and live like a real adult. Patricia and James were long gone. I couldn't imagine the embarrassment of Will moving out before me.

At the same time, I couldn't imagine ever having another home.

Someone tapped on my window. I looked up from my screen and nearly toppled backwards.

Amanda hovered over my garden, dressed in an expensive-looking blouse and designer jeans. She pantomimed lifting the glass. Why was she using her powers out of costume? I'd seen her fly before, but the sight of a normal-looking grown woman suspended in midair just struck me as bizarre.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered as I opened the window.

"Looking for you," she said. "You freaked out when I came through the window earlier today. I wanted to make sure I didn't scare you."

"Scare me?" Sure, I'd been startled. But Centurions had to be ready for the unexpected. "No, no. I was just faking it. Can't let my boss find out my secret identity, right?" I laughed, nervously. Amanda smiled.

"Good. Hey, now you get to make the centerpiece for your own swearing-in, right? That's pretty cool."

A huge addition to my work schedule was the last thing I needed. I already had a deadline to capture Harpy. But at least this meant one Centurion believed I'd make it that far. "Yeah. It'll be fun."

She smiled. "Aren't you going to say . . ."

"Thank you. For that and distracting Valerie. I owe you one."

My phone buzzed. Amanda picked it up from between my pencil jar and a framed photo of the Shipwright High Anime Club. "Who's Dan?"

I snatched the phone from her hands. Dan's text said he'd pick me up from work at two-thirty for our date. I made a mental note to be outside by two-fifteen. The last thing I needed was for him to come in and risk meeting my boss.

"He's just a guy," I said. A police detective with muscles like a god. Who's just a little shy around women. "We're going to the Speedway to see an antique car expo."

"I heard about that. David Randolph's going to be there." She winked. "If your date goes bad, you could try chatting up him."

"I'm not that kind of girl." I certainly wasn't the kind of girl who the richest man in Bayton would notice.

"Your loss."