Heroine Complex (30 page)

“Pro tip,” the socks whispered. “Never turn your back to the audience. I'm giving you that bit of gosh-dang
advice because we're friends and all.” I turned more fully toward the socks, trying to see Maisy. But everything I could see seemed to be coated in blood.

Then something swooped down at me, something gray and pockmarked with giant claws and . . . and . . . fuck. Holy fuck. It was just like the hand that had leaped out of the piano at Nordstrom. And it was
Maisy's
hand.

She was the fucking demon princess.

The claw snatched the sparkly clip out of my hair.

And with that, the “oh-oh-ohs” cut out and the Backstreet Boys cut in and now all I could hear was Maisy's incredible voice seducing the crowd, their cheers nearly drowning out her amazing performance.

I fisted my hand at my side, trying desperately to call up my fireball. But my emotions were everywhere, scattered bits of feeling littering my psyche. Panic thrummed through me and I tried to grab on to that, tried to use it. But I couldn't. I couldn't focus.

I was losing. I'd already lost. I'd finally managed to completely and thoroughly tank Aveda Jupiter, superhero. She was gonna kill me. And then Maisy was gonna kill me. And then we were all gonna die.

I was visualizing a scenario wherein San Francisco was now ruled by Maisy Kane, Perky Demon Princess Overlord, and we were all forced to wear ironic knee socks, when all of a sudden, the Backstreet Boys cut out and a familiar strain of plinky piano notes cut in.

“Eternal Flame.”

An avalanche of images smashed into my brain.

Aveda snatching the mic at that freshman year dance, singing with all her heart.

Lucy belting out the song while I stuffed my face with nachos.

Nate lifting me off the ground and carrying me into The Gutter closet and kissing me and kissing me and kissing me.

My breathing slowed, my mind focusing on each of
these memories in turn, a spark of something small and sure worming its way through the despair swirling through me.

Think of all the things you'd miss if the world suddenly weren't there.

That spark pushed me to my feet, forced me to turn and face the crowd. And finally I felt heat start to pool in my hand.

Maisy was standing near the front of the stage, looking most put out at having been cut off from her boy band serenade.

Why wasn't she singing? How the fuck did she not know The Bangles?

I noticed she was also holding her arm behind her back.

I was not fully conscious of everything my body was doing, but I felt myself rip a piece of fabric from my sparkly hem and bring it to my nose, sopping up the blood. The front of the dress was soaked with the stuff, as if I'd just suffered an explosive chest wound. The crowd regarded me with some strange brew of awe and horror. I must have looked like a monster movie victim.

No,
I thought, my brain finally catching up to my body.
I'm the fucking monster. And you know what? That's awesome.

I strode to the front of the stage, planting myself in the center, wiping the remaining blood from my nose. The heat in my hand was ratcheting upward. Any minute now.
Any minute.

I turned to Maisy, hissing through gritted teeth so only she would hear me.

“You don't have to do . . . whatever you're going to do. If any part of you was ever human . . . I mean, look at all these people. They're innocent. Just come with me and—”

“No,”
she growled.

She backed away from me. I sang directly to her. My voice was not stunning. But it was strong and sure and
bolstered by the fact that I was standing there covered in blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my friends in the crowd, trying to shove their way to the front.

I put my entire soul into the song. The crowd gave over to awe and cheered.

I felt raw power coursing through me. My hand was getting hotter. It was almost time. If I could just get Maisy to reveal that damn arm.

My little dance circle resurrected itself on the side of the stage, going so far as to make punk-rock devil horns in my direction. During a power ballad.

Fine. If Maisy wasn't going to reveal the arm on her own, I was going to
make
her do it. I'd grab it with my fireballed hand and show the world. Then I'd try the singe-and-subdue-her thing. I focused on the adrenaline flowing through me. Then I dramatically extended my right hand and opened it, revealing my perfect fireball.

The crowd cheered. It sounded like one unified voice.

I thrust my hand at Maisy. She darted out of the way and glared at me.

“All right, Super-Bitch,” she snarled. “Let's play.”

She swung her arm in front of her and slashed at me, her claws ripping through my sparkly skirt.

The crowd screamed. I stepped toward her, my hand outstretched, trying to grab her. But she darted out of my way again, her giant claw waving menacingly in front of her.

“You think that piddly little flame thing is any match for me?” she screamed. “I'm a freakin' demon princess! My power will destroy you and everyone in this bar! Everyone in this gosh-dang
city
!”

She turned to the crowd and snarled, then extended her claw outward, slashing at the people next to the stage. Her claw expanded, growing on the spot and ballooning out from her body, giant-size talons threatening to take out an entire section of the crowd. The terrified
screams of the crowd got louder and louder, so loud they nearly drowned out the music, so loud the floor seemed to shake, as if the entire bar was about to be upended, as if . . .

Wait a second.

The bar
was
shaking. The ground
was
shaking.
We
were shaking
.

“Earthquake!” someone screamed.

The unified voice turned into a panicked mob, pushing and shoving at each other, not sure where to go. I threw myself in front of Maisy and thrust my hand at her again, determined to make contact, determined to get her to
stop
.

And then my fireball was arcing away from me, shooting up at the ceiling, a bright, beautiful phoenix of color and heat.

It
moved
.

The fireball smashed into the ceiling, sparks flying, and then careened downward. It landed directly on Maisy Kane. And just like the Tommy Demon, she combusted on the spot.

I looked out at the crowd, but they were still only paying attention to shoving their way toward the exit. The sprinklers chose that moment to activate. Water soaked the mob and they pushed each other harder.

I was rooted to the ground, eyes fixed on the spot where my fireball had just exploded.

How had it moved? How . . .

A raw rush of energy coursed through my veins. I was soaked to the bone and covered in blood and possibly about to be swallowed whole by the shaking earth.

I had just incinerated a demon princess.

And I felt fucking fantastic.

So I started singing again.

I sang louder and louder, and the crowd quieted, transfixed by my literally earth-shaking performance. They stopped shoving each other.

And just like that, the ground stilled. The sprinklers shut off just in time for my last verse. A confused, relieved murmur rippled through the crowd and the cheers started up again as I sang my way to the big finish, high note strong and clear and perfectly executed. As the crowd roared, my gaze swept the stage. There was nothing but one solitary knee sock and my sparkly hair clip.

I scooped up my clip and defiantly refastened it in my hair, then planted a hand on my blood-caked hip.

“Hey, everybody,” I said. “Did you see the part where I . . .”

“Took out an evil demon masquerading as a gossip blogger who just tried to kill us all?!” bellowed Giant Dude. He held up his phone. “I recorded that shit.”

The crowd unleashed a deafening cheer, hipsters and geeks and oldsters united at last. These were
my
people. This was
my
city. And I'd just taken it back.

I laughed, that sense of giddy power humming through me. I found Bea and Aveda and Scott in the crowd, arms thrown around each other, jumping up and down in exultation. I saw Lucy clap Rose on the back and flash me a thumbs-up. And then I saw Nate pushing his way to the front, trying to get to the stage. To me. His usual stoicism was replaced by a look of complete panic and his soaked T-shirt clung to his body, his muscular chest fully outlined in a way that bordered on indecent.

A fierce bolt of lust stoked my power rush even more.

I tossed the mic to the side and took a flying leap, launching myself at him. I smacked into him and his arms went around me, hoisting me off the ground. I could feel his heartbeat against my fingertips, pulsing faster as I locked my legs around his waist.

“You're okay,” he gasped, as if reassuring himself. “You're okay.”

I kissed him hard. My mouth was open and wet and wanting—no warm-up, no breathless anticipation. Just pure need, heightened by the blaze of adrenaline singing
through my veins. He stiffened in surprise. But then his mouth opened to mine, his need matching my own.

The crowd screamed around us, a drunken mob fueled by a wild night that was being capped off by the beloved daughter of San Francisco dry-humping some dude on the dance floor.

How's that for showmanship?

“OW.” I WINCED
as Nate's fingertips brushed my swollen nose.

Me, Nate, Aveda, Bea, Lucy, and Scott were crammed into The Gutter's minuscule kitchen, breaking down the events of the last hour and doing our best to dry off using Kevin's supply of Gutter swag hoodies (“You will, of course, have to pay for those,” he'd sniffed). The thin material of my dress had mostly aired out, but I could feel my damp hair starting to curl around my ears as my glamour faded. Snippets of sound wafted in from the party in the bar, drunken celebratory screams mixed in with the off-key stylings of patrons trying karaoke mash-ups.

I stole a glance at Nate. We'd reset to our awkward state as soon as the dance floor make-out moment passed. He was touching me very carefully as he examined my face for injuries. Very professional, very doctorly, his eyes keeping me at a distance.

“So how do we know Maisy's gone for good?” I said.

“She did go up in flames, love,” Lucy pointed out. “That's not a bad sign. Particularly since Tommy and Stu don't seem to have returned after meeting a similar fate.”

I shook my head. “I wish I could have convinced her to . . .”

“Talk it out?” Lucy said.

“Not try to kill everyone?” Scott said.

“Well, yeah,” I said. “I figured that's what I'd do after the whole singe-and-subdue-her thing.”

“Yeah, it really didn't seem like she was up for anything like that,” Bea chimed in.

“She was about to do some serious damage to everyone here,” said Aveda. “And she would have if you hadn't stopped her.”

I nodded. The image of someone I thought I'd known for so long going up in flames was disconcerting, to say the least. But I guess I hadn't really
known
her. I'd thought she was a very grating, very human gossip blogger. Instead, she was apparently a demon princess bent on mass murder.

“Nothing broken,” Nate said tersely. He stood, striding with purpose to the back of the kitchen.

“Can we talk about the part where you apparently figured out how to move that fire?” Scott said. “What happened?”

“I don't know.” I flexed my fingers, examining my palm. “After so much trying, it happened when I wasn't trying at all. Something clicked.”

“Whatever happened, it was an impressive display of badassery,” said Aveda. “You should be out there enjoying the moment, Evie.”

I noticed Scott giving her a look of surprise.

“Or
you
could enjoy it,” I said. “Deglamour yourself and we'll switch outfits and you can go greet your adoring public.”

“Oh em gee!” Bea shrieked, waving her phone around. “That public has increased, like, a thousandfold. That video of you incinerating Maisy has gone even more viral than the Yamato one. I can't keep track of all the new Facebook fans.”

Nate strode back to us and handed me an ice pack and a bowl of something. I was suddenly starving. I set the pack to the side, focusing on the bowl. Lucky Charms.

“And Aveda's just been invited to be the official ribbon-cutter for San Francisco's Small Business Crawl,” Bea continued, typing on her phone. “Total prestige position. I'd say tonight's a win.”

I couldn't think of how to respond. Right after my karaoke triumph, I'd felt electrified. As if my fire and the sheer awesomeness of The Bangles had come together to totally defeat evil.

But what if Maisy came back? What if this wasn't the end? The thought cut through my sense of victory, making me jittery.

I stared into my bowl and absently swirled my index finger through the mix of processed sugars, searching for the purple bits. I saw pink, yellow, green. No purple.

No purple
.

My head snapped up, my eyes going to Nate. He was leaning against the counter, avoiding my gaze.

“We can count tonight as a win for now,” I said, setting the bowl to the side. “But we still don't know how Maisy—or this new breed of demon-human hybrid things she created—works. We can't let our guard down and we have to keep trying to learn more about them.”

“Oh, speaking of!” Bea put the phone down and rummaged around in her pocket. “I brought the You Need stone with me to monitor that number. You know, see if it ticked down further.” She frowned, reaching deeper into her pocket. “Except . . .” The color drained from her face. “It's not here. It must've fallen out of my pocket.” She gave me a stricken look. “Evie, I'm so sorry. I—”

“It's okay,” I said gently. I was bone-tired and in the grand scheme of things, losing a stone seemed fairly minor. “I'm not sure what more it would be able to tell us at this point. We can ask Kevin to keep an eye out for it.” I turned to Aveda. “I'm going home. Do you want my dress?” I gestured to my blood-crusted finery. “You could be, you know . . . you. Just make sure you're sitting down so they don't notice your limp. And you'll need to
hide your cast. Maybe you can sit behind the bar or something.”

Her eyes drifted to the doorway, lingering on the snippets of party.

“No,” she said. “I think I just want to hang out. Have a few drinks. With people. If, um, people want to stay.” She threw Lucy and Bea and Scott a hopeful look. “I think Rose is still out there, too. You sure you don't want to stay, Evie? We could make you look like someone else if you don't want to be Aveda, either.”

“Nah.” I stretched. “You guys go on.” I turned to Bea. “Soda. Nothing else.”

Lucy tossed her keys to Nate. “Take my car. We'll cab it later.”

“Oh. That's okay.” A huge yawn escaped me. “I'll make it back myself. Nate can stay.”

Nate met my eyes, no longer keeping me at a distance. The cramped space of the kitchen suddenly felt too warm.

“Does this look like something I'd enjoy?” he said, inclining his head toward the party. The sound of someone screeching “FREEBIRD!” rocketed its way through the kitchen door.

Point taken. Instead we'd have to settle for the most awkward car ride home ever.

The silence in the car was worse than I'd expected. It wasn't even a pure silence, since Lucy's rattletrap of a vehicle emitted a yowling hum as it carried us home. And it was raining again. Mist dotted the car windows, distorting the deserted late-night streets with a mosaic-like overlay.

“I can't believe I just won a karaoke contest,” I blurted out. It was a dumb thing to say, but I wanted some other sound in the air, something to break the bubble of awkwardness. My fingers wrapped tightly around the cereal
bowl in my lap. I'd decided to bring my Lucky Charms with me. I was still starving. Yet I couldn't bring myself to eat a single bite.

“I believe the word Bea used was ‘shredded,'” Nate said. My head jerked up. I wasn't expecting him to respond. “I'm not sure what that means,” he added.

“I don't understand, like, eighty percent of what she says,” I said. “It's all about the context clues.”

“So when she said she was ‘scouting The Gutter for some major boy band bootie,' what does that mean?”

A helpless laugh burbled out of me. “I think it means I'm glad she's with responsible adults, at least one of whom is armed.”

“You're not worried?”

“No.” I answered without even thinking about it.

I searched myself, deep down. I wasn't worried. Two weeks ago the suggestion of Bea so much as glancing at a boy would've sent me into a panic spiral, would've sparked the need for me to lock her in her room or send her to a convent. Then again I couldn't imagine the me of two weeks ago winning a karaoke contest. Or entering a karaoke contest. Or tossing around fireballs and incinerating a demon princess. Exhilaration surged up inside me—that same unhinged feeling I'd had just hours earlier, when my fire took flight and Maisy exploded and the ground shook beneath my feet. I stared down into my bowl of cereal.
No purple
.

My gaze drifted over to Nate. His hands were precisely positioned at two and ten o'clock on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the rainy street.

“Stop the car.” The words spilled out of my mouth like a string of fireworks, cutting through the car's persistent hum.

“What? Why?” His eyes didn't leave the road. “We're almost—”

“Stop the car.”

He looked around, trying to find a safe place amongst
the unwieldy sea of parked cars, then deftly moved us into a loading zone.

“What is it? Are you worried about Bea? I didn't mean to scare you, I was just—”

“Not Bea.” I shook my head vehemently and stared out the front window. I gripped my cereal bowl, watching as the rain morphed from mist to storm, water smacking against the car, droplets expanding to splashes. Exhilaration was still whooshing through me, but it was pierced by fear. I had a sudden, vivid image of water bursting through the windshield, flooding the car and taking me under.

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if this would make me invisible.

“Nate, I . . . I want to try.”

I let my little sentence sit there in the open air. Set free, his for the taking.

Instead, there was more silence.

“I'm going to need you to elaborate,” he finally said, his tone gentle but confused.

“I want to try . . . us.” I closed my eyes even tighter, until fireworks bloomed in front of my pupils. “You and me. Together. Actually together, not just for orgasm purposes. Like, maybe we would go on an actual date or something. Or maybe we'd never make it out the door, because . . . sex. Not that I only like you for sex. I like that you're good and decent and kind. That you always look surprised when you laugh, like you genuinely weren't expecting to laugh, ever. That you don't think I'm weird because I pick things out of my cereal. That you pick things out of my cereal for me. And
God
, I love your mouth. Okay, so that part is about sex, technically, but . . .” I took a mighty inhale, trying to motor through. “Aveda said the other day that I always pretend I don't want things. I know it's because I'm scared. And I know I've been saying that a lot lately, but that's what these last two weeks have taught me, bit by bit: that
everything comes back to me being scared of actually living my life in any kind of full, meaningful way. Every time I've experienced a fully living life-type emotion in the past, it's led to something bad, whether that's torching the library or being consumed with grief because my parents are gone or loving Bea so much that it takes over my entire being and she resents me at every turn. But now I'm realizing that awesome stuff can come from big emotions, too, and shutting myself off from feelings altogether—shutting
down
like I did with you—is keeping me from the awesome stuff.” I swallowed hard. “I'm tired of being scared and I'm tired of pretending I don't want things. There are things I want
so badly
. I want to not be scared of my fire-freak status. I want Bea to be okay. I want the world to be safe from vengeful demon princesses like Maisy. And I want you. I want
all
of you. I will totally help you shop for a new bed.”

Tears gathered behind my squeezed-shut eyelids. I forced myself to open my eyes, to blink the tears back. To breathe deeply. I didn't know how to end this latest bout of emotional vomit, so I just said, “What do you think?”

Silence descended on us again, punctuated by the smack of rain against the windows. This silence seemed to stretch on forever, rebuilding our bubble of awkwardness. My tears loomed, ready to make a break for it.

When he finally spoke, his tone was not gentle or accepting or placating. It was completely exasperated.

“Evie . . .”

“No, it's okay,” I interrupted, my eyes still trained forward. “I get it. I freaked out and pushed you away and then I'm, like, throwing myself on top of you on the dance floor and then I yelled at you to pull the car over for no good reason and . . . and . . . I know I drive you crazy. Like, all the time. I can hear it in your voice right
now. I wouldn't want to date me either. I absolutely respect your decision. I—”

“Evie.”
His voice was even more exasperated now. I felt his hand curling around mine. “Will you look at me, please?”

I turned in my seat, reluctantly meeting his eyes. His gaze was sweet and earnest and so tender I thought my heart might split in two.

“It's not like you're the only one who's been acting irrationally,” he said. “I'm sorry I was so strange and insistent about our dating status. I was out of my mind with worry about what might happen to you tonight and I don't have a lot of experience with these sorts of situations and as we've established, I'm not very good at putting words together. Using evidence to determine what was going on with us . . . it's the only way I know how to do things. I realize now I should have told you what I wanted and asked you how you felt. I was trying to make you hear me by not hearing
you
.” He brushed my damp hair off my face. “But please hear this: I'm on board. I'm on board for everything. I don't know how you've managed to miss this, but I
like
you driving me crazy. You don't have to talk me into it. You don't have to dramatically chase me through the rain. I'm
here
. Now if you're done trying to convince me of something I'm already convinced of, I'm going to kiss you. Okay?”