Hero Status Read online

  I led her to one of the pristine couches and sat down beside her, trying to figure out how close to sit to be comforting without encroaching on her personal space and scaring her. Giordano stayed standing.

  “Sit down,” I told him. It was an intimidation factor, towering over someone like that, and Treasure didn’t need to be scared any more.

  He ignored me.

  I looked back at Treasure. Her shoulders were tense, her hands on her knees, and her gaze on her lap. She reminded me so much of Elisa that I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. But I had to interrogate her. Val’s life was depending on it. Yet I couldn’t push too hard or she might shut down completely.

  “I’ll start,” I said. “But I don’t know everything, so you’ll have to fill some things in for me, okay?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “Okay,” I said, and took a moment to gather my thoughts before I began. “Your mother hired two telepaths called Trick and Treat to control Supersonic. She made him fall in love with her, and was manipulating his career. He was her ticket to fame, everything she’d ever wanted. But he fought it, and when he tried to break free of the mind-control, he had a brain hemorrhage and died.”

  I paused to see if she would correct me on anything, but she remained silent, fiddling with the sleeve of her robe.

  “Your mother had to cover it up. She chose to frame the Black Valentine. Do you know why?”

  She shrunk from me, and I cursed myself for scaring her. “You,” she said, so softly I could barely hear. “Supersonic told Mom that you were married to the Black Valentine. Mom thought that if she could convince you the Black Valentine killed your friend, you’d… I don’t know, divorce her and marry Mom, instead.”

  That was it? The reason Val had been arrested and my family’s lives thrown into chaos was because Starla had hatched some irrational plot to win my affection? I wanted to scream, but there wasn’t enough time to have a meltdown. I needed to know the rest.

  “So she framed the Black Valentine,wiped the memory of the last person Supersonic had talked to, and had his ex-wife killed when she suspected her involvement,” I went on. “But it wasn’t enough. The director of the DSA saw through the frame attempt, and your mother needed to take care of her, too. But Trick and Treat couldn’t do it. They went to their boss for help, and that’s all I could find out. Do you know who their boss is?”

  Treasure was focused on her sleeve like it was the most fascinating thing in the room. I waited patiently, but Giordano was tapping his foot on the floor. If only he were telepathic. Inside my head, I was shouting at him to keep his mouth shut.

  “He isn’t anyone famous,” Treasure said. “At least, I’ve never heard of him. He just… rang the doorbell. He said Mom’s problem intrigued him and he wanted to help. Mom invited him in for drinks. It was crazy. He’s crazy.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “He said it was Dr. Sweet. I don’t know if that’s his real name, but it’s what he said.”

  She kept her head down, waiting for my next question, but it never came. My throat felt like it had closed up. Not him. It couldn’t be. My thoughts shot off in a hundred different directions at once with questions and theories and denials, but then everything screeched to a halt.

  He had Val. Dr. Sweet had Val.

  Treasure glanced up nervously. I must have looked like I’d just seen a ghost, and that wasn’t far from the truth.

  “I thought you and Valentina killed him,” said Giordano.

  “We did,” I croaked. “Twice.”

  And all that had been left the second time was a charred skeleton. How on earth had he come back from that? It wasn’t possible. Maybe this was someone else.

  “Can you describe him?” I asked Treasure.

  She looked even more shaken now, like she would run if I even breathed threateningly. Her eyes darted around the room for something else to focus on.

  “He’s… old,” she said finally. “Greasy.”

  “Dirty lab coat and a Hawaiian shirt?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  No. He was dead. I’d watched him die. It couldn’t be him.

  But he’d already come back from the dead once. Who’s to say he couldn’t have done it again? Maybe that was his superpower. But how he’d done it didn’t matter, just the fact that he was back. Dr. Sweet was back. I’d take almost any other supervillain in the world over him. He’d had Val for hours now. Dear Lord, what was he doing to her? What had he already done?

  “Treasure,” I said, using every bit of willpower I had to keep my voice from trembling. “I need you to think carefully. This is very important.”

  Her hands were in her lap again, clutching the fabric of her robe so tightly her knuckles were white. But she was looking at me.

  “Where did he take the Black Valentine?” I asked. “What is it he and your mother have planned?”

  “They said—I—I didn’t know—I—” She shook her head frantically, her words lost.

  Giordano stomped his foot. “Spit it out!”

  “You’re not helping,” I growled at him.

  Treasure’s gaze was down again, her head still shaking back and forth. I took her hand.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I can’t stay here,” she said. “She’ll know. She always knows. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

  “I’ll take you somewhere else,” I said. “I promise. I can stop her, but I need you to help me.”

  She squeezed my hand with enough force to cut off my circulation if I hadn’t had super-strength. Then she looked up at me.

  “It’s Mom,” she wailed. “It’s always Mom. You know how she is. Supersonic’s dead, and you didn’t spontaneously fall in love with her, but Dr. Sweet said she didn’t have to settle for old has-beens like you. He said she could have any superhero she wanted. They’re both insane.”

  “Who’s she going after?”

  “The Idols. They’re at a club in Miami Beach called the Lair. Mom wants Mr. Tomorrow.”

  He was young, movie-star handsome, and arguably the most popular superhero in the country right now. Of course she would want him.

  “And Dr. Sweet is going to use the Black Valentine’s powers to get him for her,” I finished.

  “He said she was the only one strong enough to control so many people at once.” Treasure’s voice trembled. “Because it’s more than that. Mom wants to be rescued, but it’s not like some supervillain or natural disaster is just going to turn up.”

  “So Dr. Sweet is going to make one,” I whispered.

  “Mr. Tomorrow will save Mom,” said Treasure. “I don’t think she cares how many other people die.”

  I felt light-headed. This was bigger than me, bigger than Val. I had to alert the DSA. They would already be on the scene, with the Idols there; I just had to tell them what to expect. They’d probably arrest me, but as long as I saved Val and everyone else before that happened, I didn’t care.

  “The people Dr. Sweet experiments on,” said Giordano, “They don’t usually survive.”

  “I know.” I grabbed my cane and stood up. “Let’s go. Treasure, I’ll drop you off at a safe house on the way.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” said Giordano.

  “I’m not leaving her here.”

  I expected him to argue, but he just looked at me. “Fine. You babysit her. I’ll save Valentina.” He strode out the door.

  “Giordano!”

  I went after him, but I didn’t even make it out of the room before the car door slammed shut and the engine started up. The key was in my pocket. How had he hot-wired it so fast?

  I’d gotten the car from Irma, and where had she gotten it? From Giordano, most likely. It was one of the Belmontes’ cars. I cursed.

  “Are there any cars in the garage?” I asked Treasure.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we’ll take one of those. Come on.”

  I checked my watch. It was almos
t one a.m. Who knew when Starla and the doctor would start their attack?

  I could already be too late.

  Chapter 15

  I toyed briefly with the idea of outdoing even Val’s suicidal speeding habits, leading the police on a mad chase to the front doors of the Lair. But I had to drop off Treasure first, and I didn’t want a cop tackling her the instant she stepped out of the car. I went infuriatingly slowly down the interstate and just prayed I wouldn’t be too late.

  Hang on, Val.

  Giordano was already on his way, and he could just take the straight shot down A1A to Miami Beach; he didn’t need to sidetrack through the crowded city to drop off Treasure. Sure the speed limit was lower, but Giordano wouldn’t be going the speed limit. If he got there first and saved Val… then I’d thank him. I wasn’t so egotistical that I’d resent someone else rescuing my wife. As long as she got out of this alive and whole, that was all that mattered. It wasn’t like if he saved her, he’d win her affection, and she’d leave me for him. A life-threatening situation wasn’t a solid basis for a long-lasting romantic relationship. The only person who didn’t know that was Starla Strauss.

  After far too many long minutes, I turned off on the exit for the safe house. Traffic slowed even more. I wanted to slam my fists down onto the steering wheel in frustration. I gritted my teeth and exhaled noisily. I had to get a grip. If I couldn’t calm down, I should at least pretend like I had everything under control. I didn’t want to upset Treasure any more than she already was.

  Treat’s phone was still in my jacket pocket, and for a split second, I thought about calling Moreen before I remembered. My stomach dropped, and my facial muscles twitched before I got the emotion under control. I pushed away my worry for her, but all it left behind was the fear I’d lose Val, too. I had to get to the club in time. Tonight, there were hundreds of lives in danger, not just hers. I picked up Treat’s phone, called 911, said I was at the Lair and had seen supervillains, and hung up. I thought about my contacts in the DSA, but their numbers were all saved in my cell, and I didn’t have them committed to memory. Fortunately, Treat’s phone had Internet access. I handed it to Treasure.

  “Can you google the DSA’s Miami branch?” I asked. “See if you can find a hotline or something I can call.”

  She nodded. A few minutes later, she’d found it, probably ten times faster than I would have if I’d tried. She dialed it for me and handed back the phone.

  “Hello,” I said to the operator who answered the phone. “This is David Del Toro, White Knight. Can you patch me through to Walter Franke, please? I’m sure he’ll want to talk to me.”

  The operator was a professional; her voice only wavered slightly as she interrogated me to make sure I wasn’t a prank caller. I was put on hold for about thirty seconds, then transferred to a person who was not Walter and asked a few more questions to confirm my identity. After about five minutes, I was sure they had to now know who I was but still hadn’t been put through to Walter. I stopped the interrogation.

  “Walter Franke?” I said again.

  The speaker hesitated. “We’re trying to reach him.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll keep this cell phone on. You have the number—you probably have my GPS coordinates. Just have Walter call me when you reach him.”

  I hung up. Ten minutes later, we reached the safe house, and I pulled to the curb.

  “Unit 1202.” I handed Treasure the key. “You can order room service, do whatever you want. They shouldn’t give you any trouble, but if they do, tell them you’re a friend of Mr. White’s. That's me.”

  “Okay,” she squeaked.

  “I’ll come back for you when it’s all over.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung between us, the kind that happened when there was a strong possibility one speaker in the conversation would be dead soon, but neither wanted to bring it up.

  “If I don’t make it, you’ll have to go to the police.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Thank you.”

  I nodded, and she got out and shut the door. When she disappeared inside the building, I pulled back into the street.

  I crossed the Bay on MacArthur Causeway, passing Star Island and wondering if the DSA was still watching my house. The nightclubs were split pretty evenly on either side of the water, in downtown Miami and Miami Beach. It was just my rotten luck that this particular club was so far from the safe house.

  The area was all upscale nightclubs, hotels, and restaurants. I knew I was getting close to the Lair when I saw the line wrapping around the block. I parked the car illegally on the side of the road, not caring if it got towed. I’d be leaving the club in DSA custody or a body bag; there was no need for a car anymore. I covered my black eye with a pair of sunglasses, and luckily plenty of other people were wearing expensive shades even though it was dark, so I didn’t stand out. My clothes were even sufficiently stylish, though I wondered if anyone could really tell the difference between jeans that cost three hundred dollars and jeans that cost thirty. I couldn’t.

  The Lair was Miami Beach’s only supervillain-themed nightclub. At least, that was how it advertised itself. I’d never been in a supervillain lair that looked like a castle Dr. Frankenstein would call home. Music and bright colored lights filled the air around it, and the crowd outside marked it as the most popular spot on a street built to cater to nightlife. There were no flashing police lights yet, and no screaming crowds dashing out of the exits. I sighed in relief. It looked like I wasn’t too late.

  Unless Dr. Sweet had Val mind-controlling everyone in the building.

  I walked past the line of attractive people in fashionable clothes and approached the bouncer. There were two ways this could go, and I tried the nice way first.

  “Evening. You need to see an ID for someone my age?”

  I handed him my ironically fake driver’s license, a roll of hundred dollar bills tucked underneath it. His eyebrows rose in surprise. He handed me the ID back, pocketed the cash, and stepped aside.

  “Have a nice night.”

  “Thank you.”

  A cry of outrage came from someone in the front of the line. A lot of them had probably been waiting all night to get inside.

  Be grateful. It’s safer out here, I thought.

  I entered the front lobby. Whoever had built the place had spared no expense, and it looked like something out of a movie. The flooring was gray stone, and a rich red carpet ran up a sweeping staircase with polished banisters. There was even an honest-to-goodness suit of armor set up against the wall. (And no, I don’t want to hear your White Knight jokes.) A tremendous chandelier hung from the ceiling, but the rest of the LED lighting definitely belonged to a club, not a castle.

  I wasn’t sure where to go, whether up the stairs or through one of the doorways. The place was enormous. How was I ever going to find Val in here? I didn’t have telepathy; I would have to rely on my eyes and ears, but that could take all night. I was sick with worry for her. Somewhere in this building, she was strapped into one of Dr. Sweet’s machines, and he was playing around with her brain. She was so close.

  I’m here, I thought, hoping she might be able to hear me. I’ll find you. Just hold on.

  Dr. Sweet could already know I was in the building, and undercover DSA agents were no doubt on scene to protect the Idols. I had to get moving—and fast.

  I stuck to the first floor, since Dr. Sweet had a habit of occupying hidden basements. Then again, he’d probably scoped out those places long beforehand in order to set up his lab, and the job with Starla had been last minute. I couldn’t count on it resembling my other encounters with him. Still, I had to start somewhere, and the first floor was as good a place as any.

  I passed couples sitting close together on intimate couches and women emerging from the bathroom with freshly retouched makeup and hair. Some people were exchanging phone numbers; others were just lounging and looking hot. As elaborate as this room was, it was only a spot for guests to catch a b
reather away from the crowds. I needed to find the main room if I wanted to get a true feel for the place.

  Before I could, Treat’s phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and put it to my ear.

  “What the hell are you playing at, Del Toro?” Walter growled in greeting.

  “I’m at a nightclub called the Lair,” I said.

  “How nice for you.”

  “You’ll recognize the name, because it’s where the Idols are.”

  He went silent.

  “Dr. Sweet is here,” I said. “He has Val, and he’s planning on staging an attack and using her powers to mind-control Mr. Tomorrow.”

  “What a load of—”

  “I don’t care if you believe me. Just tell your men on the scene to prepare for an attack. I’m sure you’ll have me arrested before the night is out.”

  “Count on it.”

  I hung up. Walter may have been a prick, but he was a professional. He’d treat the situation at the Lair as a full-scale emergency. He had to now. I just hoped I got to Val before he got to me.

  Treat’s phone started ringing almost immediately, showing Walter’s number again. I couldn’t figure out which button was the off switch, so I crushed it and tossed the remains into a trash bin by the bathroom.

  Now where had I been? Right, the main room. I just followed the sound of the music, and in less than a minute, my search was over.

  It was a disaster waiting to happen. The hall was gigantic and had to be packed close to its maximum occupancy. The dance floor was a sea of people, their hands thrown into the air as they swayed and writhed wildly. I spotted at least two bars, the counters lined with a wall of bodies both sitting and standing. Keeping with the lair motif, high-tech speakers and disco balls mixed with stone gargoyles and a giant world map with targets on major cities. Colored lights and lasers flashed, but the room still managed to stay dark. I could imagine the chaos that would break out when Dr. Sweet attacked, the screaming and stumbling as people rushed to escape. Walter should evacuate the place. Did he realize how serious a threat Dr. Sweet was, or did he think I was the only danger?