In Hero Years... I'm Dead Delux Edition (19 page)

I thought his judgment of Grant was a bit harsh, but arguing gained nothing. “Redhawk is a Felix.”

“But he has the wrong attitude. He couldn’t do what I do.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. It broke down pretty simply as one of those X/Y graphs from grade school. One axis is evil versus good, and the other is Law versus Justice. Okay, my putting Justice there
is
a personal bias, but one I shared with Nighthaunt. Someone like Colonel Constitution would have called it Chaos or anarchy or lawlessness–whichever term best fit his mood at the time.

Nighthaunt and I both believed in Justice. That meant there were times when we had to move outside the law. Colonel Constitution saw that as placing ourselves
above
the law, which created quite a knot in his knickers. While Redhawk wasn’t as extreme as the Colonel, he worked with law enforcement more often than not.

The fact was, however, that Nighthaunt and I were not philosophical fellow-travelers. On that other axis, he held very strongly to the view that people were inherently evil and had to be scared into remaining lawful. Grant and Terry hit the other extreme, believing folks were inherently good, and if the bad apples were removed from the barrel, all would be well.

Personally, I tended toward the middle. I figured most folks were just
confused
and might not realize they’d stepped over the line. After all, for every guard at a death camp, there’d been an architect, an accountant and a dozen maintenance guys making sure the camp ran efficiently and in the black. What they’re allowing to happen is definitely evil, but are they? Or are they just too confused to be aware of what’s going on?

I scratched at the back of my neck. “Sorry, I’m still having a hard time believing you saw me as your replacement.”

“You were one of several. You made the cut. We brought you into C4.”

My eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that’s kind of curious. Grant said he and his wife didn’t like me, would have blackballed me, but you insisted. You and I, we never… so how did…?”

I stopped as comprehension twisted through my guts. “Puma.”

“The original Felix. Yes, he wrote me. He recommended you without reservation. Said if he was younger he would have taken you under his wing.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

Nighthaunt didn’t notice. “I would have done that, too, save for circumstances. Redhawk was moving out on his own, so it wouldn’t have seemed as if I’d disowned him. I liked what I saw of you in C4. We could have partnered up. We still can.”

“No.” I shook my head again. “I mean it. I’m out. It’s flattering, but I know my limits. As much as I’d like to be worthy, I’m not. Too much has changed.”

“Yes, and not always for the better. I see things. I try to point them out, but my entreaties fall on deaf ears.”

I spun the Spookstar on a finger. “Why weren’t you at Redhawk’s induction ceremony?”

“How do you know I wasn’t?”

“None of these were flying around.”

“
Touché
. Redhawk and I still talk. I’ve let him know how proud I am of him, but with the Deuteragonists and the controversy, it’s important for him to maintain his independence. I respect that.” He sighed. “I was sorry Puma died. I wanted to go to the memorial, but I don’t get around as well as I used to. Arthritis.”

“Great, something besides P-crud to look forward to.”

“Indeed. You’ll need to find yourself a hobby.”

“Note to self: invest in Sudoku books.”

“You can do better than that. What is it you’re planning to do with yourself now?”

It would have been easy to tell him about Castigan, but I held that back. The inquiry sounded friendly enough, but he and I had never been friends. I figured it was his nature to suck up any intelligence he could. Problem was, once he had info, he’d find a way to use it.

“I’ve got some money stashed. I have time to figure out what I want to do.”

“No connection between you and Kid Coyote?”

“Nope, but, as you said, I might need a hobby. He any good?”

“It’s a down market for Felixes, but he has talent. He’s one to watch.”

“I’ll put him on my Superfriends list.”

“And down that path lies madness.” Nighthaunt’s laughter rose from the shadows. “It’s been good talking with you. I’ll leave your friend to your disposition. I don’t suppose we’ll speak again. Enjoy your retirement. If you can.”

And like that he was gone. I’d always hated that about him. Whispering from the shadows, then just vanish. My spine still tingled, and not in a good way.
And if he can make an ally feel like that, just imagine how his enemies felt.

I tried to take comfort in that idea, but then I didn’t know which he considered me to be. The curious thing was this: how had he come to be at the warehouse? Was he watching Bennie or me? Why would he watch either of us?

The more I thought about it–throughout a process that involved entering and leaving the CRAWL on a random basis and included arriving back at my shop later than planned–the more I couldn’t decide which answer made me happier. The more I played the conversation over in my head, the more I became convinced it was really an interrogation. He always came back to the central point: why I was in Capital City?

And he hadn’t liked my answer.

I hadn’t quite figured out what to make of all that when the elevator door opened. Selene stood in the doorway between workroom and store, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

“You, sir, have made a big mistake.”

I tossed the keys on my workbench. “I’m glad you’re here. I know I did and I was going to tell you about it immediately but…” I pointed to where the keys had landed next to my uTiliPod. “…I forgot that and this is better done face to face.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I swallowed hard. “I went to the Bluebelle. I told myself it was to thank Randy Singh, and then just to collect my stuff from the Bluebelle, but it wasn’t. I went after Bennie. I wanted to scare him. I figured if he could be scared, the fear in my heart would get transferred to him. Kinda like playing tag.”

Her stance shifted and an eyebrow rose. “Go on.”

I frowned. “This isn’t the mistake you wanted to talk to me about, is it?”

“No, but we’ll talk about your choice of wallpaper later.” Her voice tightened. “What happened?”

“I chased him. He got the drop on me. He’d have killed me save for the intervention of a friend.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Pride.” I shrugged. “There was a guy, David Hackworth, once described fear this way. He said every man has a bottle inside himself. Some have a big one. Some have a small one. Doesn’t matter. All the fear collects in there and a guy can be fearless while it’s collecting. And then one day, the bottle’s full. That’s it. Game over. He’s done.”

I looked up at her. “My bottle’s full.”

Selene’s gaze did not waver. “It’ll drain out again.”

“It’s a one-way bottle.” I opened my arms. “I violated our agreement. There are the keys.”

“Keep them.”

“But…”

She smiled carefully. “I’ve been where you are. You know I’ve gone out with Vixen a couple times. You have one strike against you.”

“And I get three?”

“You get two. You’d only have gotten one, but you came clean.” Her eyes half-closed. “I expected some backsliding, and I already knew about you and Bennie.”

“He called?”

“A courtesy. He has quite an art collection and I’ve done work for him.”

I shook my head. “My fear bottle is full, but my stupid bottle isn’t. He doesn’t see me and randomly call someone who’s appraised art for him. I didn’t tell him about Castigan, so he has no reason to connect us.”

“I also did the alarm system in the Mausoleum and at Haste Manor.”

“Nice dodge.” I fixed her with a stare. “He knows I’m Victoria’s father?”

Selene nodded slowly. “After it became apparent I was pregnant, he did the gallant thing. He offered to marry me and raise Victoria as his own child. It was a tempting offer, and one he repeated several times over the years.”

“And you didn’t accept because?”

“Victoria would have been raised as
his
daughter. I’d fought against him. I didn’t think his lifestyle would be good for her.” Selene sagged against the door jamb. “I tried to shield her from what we were. He would have
conspired
with her.”

“So he called you to warn you that I was back in town?”

She nodded. “I thanked him for the news and said I’d already been informed. Then I called Grant and straightened out that arrow of connection. If Nick calls Grant he won’t know the deception.”

I shook my head. “Nicholas Haste and Grant Stone. There was a time they ruled this city, one by day, one by night. No one knew who they really were.”

“That was a long time ago, a time perhaps best forgotten.”

“You better hope not.”

She frowned.

“Think where you’re standing, my dear. If the old days are forgotten, Castigan is done before he starts.”

Selene laughed. “Good point. Of course, with that wallpaper, you could be done already.”

“What are you talking about?” I made to move past her, but she stopped me with a hand to my heart. “Did you already change it?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay.” My brows furrowed. “What am I missing? Why are you here.”

“I’m here because I’m impressed with everything you’ve accomplished.” She smiled happily. “Excluding the wallpaper, what you’ve done is brilliant. You’ve been working hard.”

“I have tons more to do.”

“But not tonight.” She gave me a shove back toward the elevator. “The car’s waiting downstairs. Your clothes are in it. You will change on the way.”

“To?”

“It’s a surprise, but you’ll enjoy it, I promise.” She herded me into the elevator and sent it down. “All you have to do is to remember back to when you knew how to have fun. Think you can do that?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Fantastic.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “Women will swoon, men will weep and we will have more fun than allowed by law.”

Chapter Eighteen

The elevator that whisked us from the ground to the one hundred and second floor of the world’s tallest building opened into the Emerald Ballroom. Though it had been completely refurbished a half-dozen times, it retained the powerful elegance and grace of the original Art Deco styling. The bowl-shaped room had tables and booths on tiers centered around a vast wooden dance-floor. At the north end, backed by a huge window that revealed the city in all its nighttime glory, a big band played on a stage.

It was as if the elevator had not only carried us to the heavens, but had transported us back in time. I remembered the last time I’d been there. I’d been younger. Selene had been on my arm, but never had she looked more beautiful than she did now.

I’d pulled on a black suit with a white shirt and an emerald green tie which matched my eyes and the hue of her gown. The tie had a slight wrinkle in it, since she’d used it to blindfold me while she changed into the strapless gown, with a tight bodice and flowing skirts. And sequins, so many sequins that as she spun across the dance floor it looked as if a million flash bulbs were going off.

The maitre d’ conducted us to a table on one of the higher tiers–so much better to see and be seen–and brought a complimentary bottle of champagne. Selene nodded at a few people as we walked to our seats arm in arm. Heads everywhere bent together, starting the whispers which would soon spread beyond the ball room.

She smiled across the table. “They’ll be wondering who you are.”

“So, who am I?”

“Castigan, of course. Half the people here are your target clientele.”

“Cool. Business. Got it.” I smiled. “It’s show time.”

The maitre d’ came and gave Selene a card. “He has invited you and your guest to join him at his table.”

Selene studied the card, then nodded. “We will, for a moment.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

Acting my part, I took Selene’s hand and tucked it inside my left elbow, then paraded her across the empty dance floor. We ascended two levels. The man who’d sent the card stood and slid out from the booth, leaving behind another man and their two wives. The older couple, including the man who stood, appeared to be roughly our age. The other couple was younger and while well-dressed, appeared a bit too churchy for the surroundings.

I recognized our host even before I heard him speak, and kicked myself because I’d not made the connection before. A couple inches shorter than me, and twenty pounds heavier, his dark hair had thinned into a comb-over that looked like a barcode tattoo. He’d gotten a bit jowly as well.

Selene hugged him, then turned to introduce me. “Castigan, this is His Honor, the mayor, Gregory Greylan.”

Greylan, with a big smile on his face, extended his hand.