Twenty One
I don’t know how long we stay there, with D.S. standing with his back to the tree trunk, folding me into his chest like a letter inside an envelope. As I feel his mask next to my ear and listen to the pattering end of the storm, the minutes that pass are the last thing I’m aware of.
“How’s life in space?” he asks.
“Space would be awesome. Teach me how to fly so I can be an astronaut.”
D.S. rubs his hands together, keeping them warm. “Yeah, we gotta get you up to speed on those powers, Roberts, before you start a downpour on some guy.”
I gather the ends of my dress under my legs, and wince when I see the mud, which stains from the train all the way to my knees. Forget killing me, Kristen will never speak to me again.
“I’m an excellent swimmer,” I say. “I’m not afraid of a little water. A champion, one might say.”
“Champion of coming in dead last.”
I twist around and face him. “Wanna say that again?”
He crosses his ankles and leans against the tree trunk. His suit jacket flaps from his waist, revealing an inside pocket and an outline of a bowtie. “Champion of coming in—” He sees me looking at his pocket and closes his jacket without a word.
It’s going to be like that. Fine. “Race you back to the party.” With my heels in one hand and the end of my dress in the other, I sprint away from the willow tree. In an evening gown. What the heck though, it’s already dirty.
When we re-enter Hallowfest, I beeline for the bathroom to assess the state of my dress. Judging by its muddy train, the ensemble must be appalling. I turn to say something to D.S. to gauge where we’d be leaving things, but he’s already disappeared.
“Mads.” Kristen squeals behind me. “Where have you been? The boys ditched me and I need to talk.” She notes my soaked clothes. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
She pulls me into the bathroom off the side of the ballroom.
It’s a single-person bathroom, but it has a hand-dryer and towels, perhaps for emergencies like this one.
There’s no mirror, so I don’t see the pumpkin the rain turned me into, which is probably for the best. Over the loud blast of the air-dryer, I fill her in.
Kristen flushes and giggles, wobbling while we talk. She’s not totally out of it, but she shouldn’t drive. “I’m obsessed with this. Dark Static is here?”
“He said Phil has a task for him.”
“Of course. It’s not Hallowfest without drama. Speaking of, Fox, Damian, and Aaron all ditched me when we found the punch. What the heck, Madeline? I thought Aaron was here for me.”
“Sorry, Kris,” I say, on multiple levels. “You can always be my date.”
When my dress is as dry as we can get it, we finally re-enter the ballroom. “I need to meet Dark Static,” Kristen says, a little too loudly.
We stay on the perimeter to have some space to ourselves and to avoid the scrutiny of people who would be offended by my outfit. Kristen, off her balance, knocks right into someone. “Oh, sorry.”
We’re met by a guy in a blue mask, holding a half-eaten plate of cake. Fox Levine. He runs his gaze over my damp dress.
“You got caught in that lightning storm, didn’t you?” he asks, like I failed some kind of test.
“You went outside?” Kristen asks, either to pretend like she didn’t know where I was, or because she forgot everything we’d just talked about. “Without me?”
“Yeah, Mads,” Fox says, half mocking Kristen and half mocking me. “What were you doing outside? Without us?”
I resist the urge to stick out my tongue. “I was looking for Arielle. I thought she might be in the garden.”
“Funny,” says Fox. “I thought you hated talking to your sister.”
Panic rises in my lungs as Fox eats his cake.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen Arielle in a while.” Kristen ogles Fox’s plate. “I want some cake.”
“Bring me some, please,” I say, as she once again leaves me standing with Fox.
Fox lifts an eyebrow. “She’s having fun.”
“Leave her alone, Fox. She just couldn’t tolerate you guys ditching her.”
“ Moi? I’m not the one who went outside.
” He scrapes a bit of frosting off his plate.
“Don’t fret. You didn’t miss anything that exciting.
It’s the same tiring thing every year. Overly decorated, too much food, and people who only attend to show off that they scored an invitation. Except, this year, you came.”
“Your point?” I ask. Is Kristen almost back?
“This is the first year someone’s gone outside in a lightning storm and returned to an elegant ballroom wearing a dress that is completely trashed. Guests must think you’re the entertainment.”
I refuse to let him get to me. “Yeah? And what do you think, Fox?”
Fox gestures around the room. “I love when people ask me what I think. Usually, I just have to barge in on conversations and say it, anyway. But when someone gives me the opportunity to shed my bright light on the conversation, it’s the best day ever.”
I start to turn on my heel and walk away, to find Kristen or Dark Static or maybe even Arielle, like I’d claimed.
“I don’t think you were looking for Arielle,” says Fox. I’m set to ignore him for the rest of the night until he adds, “You were with that Super, weren’t you?”
I spin to face him. “What?”
“A few days ago, when you were walking to the pool, I heard you scream. When I drove to the entrance, he was there, and you were gone.”
“Wait.” I stop. “You saw that?”
“Duh.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shuffles his feet casually, like we could have been talking about the weather.
“It seemed like not saying anything was the better option. I didn’t know if he hurt you, and if he did, I didn’t want him to know that I’d heard you scream.
If he didn’t, then I had leverage—A Super was trying to help you . Why?”
As he says that, I realize I’d forgotten something about Fox: Fox is the kind of person who uses his intelligence to hide how intelligent he really is.
I push myself to think of a reply. Before I can, Phil Bridges runs between us, his face shining with sweat and his mouth twisting, trying to maintain a calm composure when he’s anything but. Phil, who tried to kill me. Phil, who knows I have powers. That Phil.
“Madeline,” he says, as if he doesn’t see Fox, “Arielle is missing. I can’t find her. Do you know where she might be?”
The conversation I’d heard when I was with D.S., when we heard her friends were going to surprise her with something, comes to mind. They said, “Arielle won’t see it coming ,” and now Arielle is gone.
“Well,” says Fox. “It’d be great if there were any Supers around.”
I stop breathing.
“Madeline?” Phil pleads. “Ideas?”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t think. “The pool? Some kind of health-smoothie place?”
Phil whips out his cellphone to get one of his guys on it. “Thanks. In the meantime, would you mind searching the estate? Just in case she’s attending to something here? I have to do something else.”
Fox chortles at that. Phil won’t check his own house for his own wife ?
“Um, I guess,” I reply. If Arielle really is missing, then someone needs to address the kidnapping epidemic Capital City seems to have. On the other hand, Arielle could just be in her room with her friends, being surprised about whatever they’re gifting her. Who knows?
There’s one other option, however: this could be the trap I was waiting for.
“Great.” The mayor taps his cellphone and wanders into the crowd. I step into the hallway, away from the ballroom.
“I’ll come,” says Fox.
“You don’t have to do that.” Translation: I’d rather cover myself in slime, eat a spider’s nest, and crawl into a pit of alligators than have you come with me.
“Maddragon,” Fox replies, “you want to go wandering around Phil Bridges’ house alone?
Who knows what kind of fun stuff there is for you to run into?
Invisible heated lasers, or an army.” Only Fox doesn’t know that D.S.
is still here somewhere, and D.S. is always twelve steps ahead of me.
I’d bet that he’d seen the mayor talk to me.
If I got into any trouble, he could help.
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
“Your funeral.” The apathy in his voice stings.
I look at Fox the way a cat looks at a fellow feline on the porch next door: back arched and hiss ready, prepared to go off at him. Fox exhibits my body language in reverse: calm, with a bored line on his lips.
“Just let Kristen know. Goodbye, Fox.” I stride out of the ballroom. Fox falls into step beside me.
“Madeline,” he says. “I think it’s important that you have someone with you. Not Kristen. I can ask Damian if you don’t want my help. Damian would walk around with you.”
My heart skips a beat. Damian Scott Jr. “I can’t…” I tell Fox. Translation: Heck yes, I could go see what in the world is going on with my sister with Damian Scott Jr.
Fox’s stare lingers on me for a minute longer. He shakes his head, giving up, and his midnight tailcoat trails away.
~
If I were Arielle’s bedroom, where would I be? Somewhere with the space to fit about six walk-in closets and a jacuzzi.
A jacuzzi, meaning water. If I focus, can I find the jacuzzi that would undoubtedly be in her bedroom?
Since my powers are water based, maybe that means I can zero in on sources.
Damian mentioned something similar in League of Comics.
I close my eyes, which seems like a logical next step, but what to concentrate on?
An image of a hot tub? Or water? The word jacuzzi?
Before tonight, the last time I’d seriously used my powers had been in that dungeon, and I’d destroyed the place.
I didn’t think about water then, I just thought about how to get out of there.
Before that, at my swim meet, I focused on running away from Mayor Bridges.
Both times, I’d wanted to escape something.
I have nothing to escape from this time. No adrenaline to fuel any sort of superpower, but maybe I could trick myself. I could try to believe that Arielle really is in danger, rather than playing some weird game with her husband and guests, and I’m her only hope.