Hero Stalker

Part Forty

She strode across the lobby of Randolph Tower and out the doors. I held back for ten seconds and cursed myself as I finally followed her out.

It had started to rain while we'd been inside. The water ran off my costume but soaked my bun. Femme's wet hair made her look like the heroine of a tragic romance movie.

"Umbrella, ma'am?" a police officer asked her. Femme shook her head. I stuck close to her as we walked down the steps of RandolphTower. The building rose high behind us. The reporters teemed behind the police barrier that blocked off the building entrance. Far as I was concerned, they had us surrounded.

Static pulsed on the radio. "No radiation signature here besides ours," Peregrine said. "I'm going to go make loops of the area."

No signature. That just about confirmed this had been a Harpy attack.

"What can you tell us about the shooting?" a reporter in a raincoat shouted from the other side of the police barrier.

"Is there a supervillain involved?" a blond woman holding out a microphone asked. "Is it Harpy? Commander, can you tell us what he wants?"

Camera flashes burst around us, occasionally mixing in with a flash of lightning from above. Voices rang in my ears. The police barrier was only fifteen feet across at its widest. Nowhere near as wide as I'd like it to be. My fingertips started to itch.

"Smile," Femme muttered under his breath. She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer to her, a radiant smile of her own locked on. The press would see a mentor reassuring her young protégée, but her grip had enough strength to strangle a grown man.

"Shadowcat, you let Harpy escape when he stole that car last week." A middle-aged man thrust a mike in my direction. Behind him, a news crew under an umbrella lifted their camera. "Do you feel responsible for this murder?"

The question hit me like a punch in the gut. Slasher had taught me all too well what that felt like. In my memory, I saw Dan's jaw drop in horror and heard Ed laughing with his date.

"No comment." Femme released my shoulder and stepped between me and the reporter. "She has no comment."

"Was there a psi-positive involved?" someone else shouted. "Was it Harpy? What measures should we take to protect ourselves?"

"Why was Edward Mann the target?" came another voice from further back in the crowd. "Because of his father or his own actions?"

"There is no sign a psi-positive was involved." Femme's clear, strong voice rang out over the crowd. Her heels splashed in a puddle as she stepped forward. "There is no sign this was a politically motivated attack."

I spotted a bobbing purple 'fro pushing its way through the back of the crowd. Annabelle. Of course. For a second, I didn't feel so alone. Then she looked up, raised her battered camera, and grinned like a shark. Right. I'd become a VIP. Annabelle probably needed more fodder for her anti-Shadowcat essay.

Every last person in the crowd wanted to see me fail.

"You expect us to believe that the gun went off on its own?" The reporter who'd asked me if I blamed myself stuck the microphone back out. "Come on, Shadowcat, speak for yourself!"

"The Centurions and the Bayton Police Department will not rest until justice is done," Femme continued, slowly. "Preliminary evidence indicates—"

"I wasn't talking to you." Something about the reporter reminded me of Valerie. "Hey! Shadowcat! Look me in the eyes and tell me this wasn't a Harpy attack!"

So I looked him in his ratty eyes. I knew he didn't know anything about what had really happened. He just wanted a story, a soundbite, something interesting or controversial or frightening. I could tell him that aliens had abducted the mayor and he'd thank me for it. It sure wouldn't be the first thing a Centurion had lied about.

"This wasn't . . ." I paused. Come on, Shadowcat, you didn't see Harpy take the shot. You can't be sure. But I was. "This wasn't . . . at least, it probably wasn't . . ." The reporters pressed closer to the barriers. My chest tightened.

"Take a deep breath," Femme said quietly. "You know what to do."

Blades shot out of my fingers and toes. The reporters gasped and jumped backwards. Camera flashes fired like machine guns. Next thing I knew, I was thirty feet up RandolphTower.

Concrete and metal tumbled down as I climbed. Rain drops slammed into my face. People shrieked below as they dodged the scraps of building I'd torn away. I could have gone back to apologize, but I simply lacked the patience.

Femme screamed at me over the radio. I tapped the button over my right ear and deactivated the headset.

If you didn't count the time I stopped to grab my purse, I made it back to Routaille in twenty minutes flat.