Nightingale (13 page)

More traffic crawled along the streets now, the cars and taxis moving at about a tenth of their normal, breakneck speed. A lone vendor stood on the corner hawking giant pretzels, but few folks were willing to wade through the drifts to get to him. In addition to the snow, jagged icicles decorated the roofs and eaves of the buildings. Soft
plop-plop-plops
of water fell from the sharp tips, splattering onto the sidewalks. Slowly but surely, the city was thawing out.

I trudged through the melting mess, dropped my coat off at Stan’s Steamers Dry Cleaners, and made it to Quicke’s a little after one. Even though it was early afternoon, the restaurant’s blue, neon sign flashed on and off above the revolving door. Hot air blasted me in the face as soon as I entered the building, along with a smorgasbord of aromas. Fresh sourdough bread, steaming potato soup, hot marinara sauce, warm chocolate cake. I drew in a deep breath, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Everything always smelled and tasted good at Quicke’s, so good that I didn’t mind the noisy chatter of the crowd or the constant
clink-clank
of silverware that went along with it.
 

Kyle worked the podium at the front. He saw me and smiled. “Abby, what’s up? You’re looking a little chilled,” he joked, taking in my puffy layers.

“Well, I’m sure some of your amazing cuisine will be more than enough to thaw me out,” I said. “So, how are we looking for the library dedication tomorrow night? Is the blizzard going to affect anything?”

He shook his head. “It’s always business with you, isn’t it?”
 

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Well, I’m happy to say the answer is no. I had the supplies delivered right before the O’Hara party, and my workers have confirmed they’ll be able to make it into the city for the event. So, we’re good to go.”

I opened my mouth but realized I didn’t have any reason to berate him. At least, not right now. Kyle might be a pain in my ass sometimes, but he always came through—usually with surprising speed.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then,” I replied.

“You will. Are you here to have lunch with Piper?”

I nodded.
 

“She’s at her usual table next to the window.” Kyle handed me two menus. “Tell her I said hello.”

“You could tell her yourself,” I suggested.

A sad smile flitted across Kyle’s face, and his blue eyes wouldn’t meet mine. He shook his head and looked over my shoulder, greeting the elderly couple in line behind me. I got the message. Subject closed.
   

Kyle and Piper had dated for a year, and she’d been totally, completely, madly in love with him. Things had been going so well she thought he was getting ready to suggest they move in together, but the bastard dumped her on their one-year anniversary a few months ago with no explanation. I thought it had something to do with the fact that Piper had been saved by Swifte from being run over by a bus a couple days before. Maybe Kyle had felt threatened. Piper had talked about the superhero nonstop after that. She’d even bought all of the Swifte merchandise she could get her hands on, adding it to her already significant superhero-ubervillain memorabilia collection.

Whatever his reasons, Kyle kept them to himself—and kept his distance from Piper. That was another reason I needled him whenever I could—payback for my best friend. She might be mature enough to eat in his restaurant without making a scene, but I wasn’t above making his life difficult whenever I could.
 

Menus in hand, I headed past the podium. Folks of all ages crowded into the restaurant, having braved the snow in search of good food. Quicke’s had some of the best in the city, along with speedy service, big portions, and reasonable prices. People also liked the restaurant’s atmosphere; it was a shrine to Bigtime’s superheroes and ubervillains. The Fearless Five, the Terrible Triad, Johnny Angel, the Mintilator. Posters and newspaper clippings of heroes and villains covered the walls, while toys, cars, action figures, and more decorated tables and the long, brass-railed bar running down one side of the restaurant.

Quicke’s was neutral territory, one of the few places in the city where heroes and villains could hang out without fear of reprisals from one another or even the police. I spotted several bright splashes of spandex as I moved through the crowd. Wynter sipped something that looked cold and blue at the bar. A few feet away, Halitosis Hal and Pistol Pete, the two superheroes who were best friends, chowed down on double cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes. Another table next to them appeared empty, except for the glasses, plates, and forks floating back and forth across it. The Invisible Ingénues had to be sitting there. They were the only women in Bigtime who got noticed less than me.

I spotted Piper at one of the restaurant’s prime tables in front of the windows looking out on the street. Kyle reserved the same spot for her every day, even after their breakup. The table was right under a poster of Talon holding his grappling hook gun. A poster of Bandit hovered next to it, both of his revolvers drawn and pointed at the G-man hero, as though the two of them were fighting just as they had in real life.

Piper Perez had been my best friend since forever. She also was one of the most striking women I’d ever seen. Her glossy, black hair framed her face like a silk waterfall, bringing out the dusky tones in her tan skin and highlighting her warm, brown eyes. The only thing distracting from her natural beauty was her nose—her very red, very swollen nose. Piper blew into a tissue. Several more littered her side of the table and clustered on the windowsill, along with her oversized purse.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, unbuttoning my coat and hanging it on the back of my chair.

“Allergies.” Piper sniffled. “They’re killing me.”

I wondered how her allergies could possibly be bothering her when every blade of grass in the greater Bigtime area was buried under three feet of snow, but Piper was hyper-sensitive. Dust, pollen, cat dander.
Everything
made her sneeze.

A waiter bustled over to take our order. Piper got a bowl of broccoli cheese soup with a baked potato and a basket of sourdough rolls, while I requested a salad with hot, grilled chicken and creamy blue cheese dressing. I also put in a to-go order for Chloe’s sandwich and pie.

“And I need my usual carryout order, Ray,” Piper told the waiter. “Times five today.”

“Sure thing,” Ray said, scribbling on his pad.

When he left, Piper turned her attention to me. She looked at me from top to bottom, and her dark eyes narrowed. Piper might not have supersenses, but she was just as observant in her own way.

“Spill it,” she demanded.

“What?” I asked, trying to play innocent.

“Spill it. You’re all depressed and moody. I could hear it in your voice over the phone this morning. Tell me what’s bothering you, Abby.”

I never could hide anything from Piper. Besides, I needed somebody to talk to about what had happened—and to tell me how crazy I was for wanting to see Talon again.

“Well, you know the O’Hara party on Saturday night?”

Piper nodded.

“Something strange happened after that …”

I told Piper everything from finding Talon in the alley to dragging him back to my apartment to having sex with him, then drugging him and taking him to the convention center. She listened intently through it all, making mental notes in her head. Piper had a mind like a supercomputer—she never forgot anything, especially when it came to superheroes and ubervillains.
 

“So you saved Talon, took him back to your place, and had your way with him?” Piper asked. “Sweet!”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it
having my way
with him.”

“Well, at least you got some action. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a naked man?”
 

Piper’s eyes drifted to the front of the restaurant. I didn’t have to turn around to know she was staring at Kyle. Her dark gaze flicked to the poster above our heads.
 

“And with Talon. He’s one of the coolest heroes in the city.”

“I thought you worshipped at the altar of Swifte,” I teased. “And the Fearless Five.”

She waved her hand. “The Fearless Five are so passé. So over. Swifte too. Edgy independent operators like Talon are all the rage these days.”

Piper was obsessed with superheroes, mainly because she kept getting rescued by them. She always seemed to be in the wrong place at the right time. If a building caught on fire, Piper would be stuck in the penthouse. If an elevator suddenly lost power, Piper would be trapped inside. She’d been almost mugged, almost flattened by a runaway subway train, and almost run over by more speeding cars than I cared to remember.
 

She’d been saved by everyone from Aria to Granny Cane to Wynter, and she had the autograph collection to prove it. Piper kept track of all the heroes and villains in the city, and she probably knew more about the superfolks than they did themselves. Sometimes I thought she ought to quit her job as the chief financial officer of Fiona Fine Fashions and go to work as a reporter for SNN. Piper could give Kelly Caleb a run for her money.
 

“So who is he?” Piper asked.

“I don’t know.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You had an unconscious superhero in your apartment, a
naked
, unconscious superhero, and you didn’t look to see who he really was?” Her voice rose with every word, ending in a near screech.

I winced. “Keep your voice down. You know loud noises give me headaches.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “But I have to say, I’m
very
disappointed in you, Abby.”

“Well, don’t be. I couldn’t have found out who Talon was even if I wanted to.”

I told her about the electro-shock visor and the metal bars that had shot out of it when I’d tried to take it off.

“Oh, yeah,” Piper said. “Talon upgraded to a new visor about three months ago. I didn’t know it had those sorts of capabilities, though.”

Her chocolate eyes gleamed, and I could tell she was making more mental notes, probably for the hero-villain encyclopedia she was writing. Piper was such a fangirl she’d decided to pen the ultimate guide to Bigtime’s superheroes and ubervillains, including all of their battles, rivalries, and costume changes over the years.
 

Ray brought our food, and we spent the next few minutes eating. My salad was wonderful the way Quicke’s food always was. Fresh, creamy dressing. Crisp vegetables. Chicken seasoned with tangy lemon pepper. But I didn’t have an appetite; instead I pushed the greens back and forth on my plate.
 

“Do you think you’re going to see Talon again?” Piper asked, tearing into a roll and slathering it with honey-cinnamon butter.

I shook my head. “No. He doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t know who he is. It’s not like we swapped numbers or anything.”

“But you sort of know who he is,” she said. “You
have
seen him naked.”

“I know, but I’m not sure I’d recognize him. I was a little freaked out by the whole thing.”

“If you ever see him again, I think you’ll know him. Especially with those supersenses you’ve got now.” A wistful note crept into her voice.

Piper had been with me the night I’d received my supersenses. Her only regret was I’d gotten them and she hadn’t. She’d always wanted to be a superhero, dreamed of becoming one ever since we were kids, but this time, I’d been in the wrong place at the right time instead of her.

We were at The Blues karaoke bar. I’d been doing my best impersonation of a diva, while Piper flirted with the bartender and sipped gin and tonics. I’d just finished my number when one of the amps beside the stage produced a screaming fit of static. I’d gone over to help Stanley Solomon, the bar’s sound guy, fix it and started fiddling with some of the knobs.
 

Unfortunately, a giggly sorority girl chose that exact moment to spill her amaretto sour on the amp. The police said there must have been a frayed wire or something in the amp. Whatever it was, my hand was attached to it when it decided to pump out a couple thousand volts of juice. All I remembered was waking up in the hospital the next day screaming for someone to turn the volume down on their radio, only to discover it was the heart monitor beeping out my pulse.
 

Everything bothered me after that. The slightest noise. The softest touch. The faintest bit of sunlight. The migraines, oh, the migraines. Piper finally figured out what was wrong with me, after she’d gone to the Bigtime Public Library and checked out and read the few books on superpowers she didn’t already own. Piper’s theory was that the jolt I’d received had opened some closed part of my mind, giving me the ability to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell a thousand times better.
 

“Well, now that we’ve properly dissected your strange and curious love life, I need a huge, huge favor,” Piper said. “Will you help me?”

“Sure,” I said, pushing away my half-eaten salad. “What is it?”

“It’s in my purse. Or rather, he is.”

“He?”
 

Piper nodded. She leaned over and opened her bag. A ball of sandy fur nestled in a white blanket in the bottom. Fur?