Blood of the Masked God (Book 1): Red Wrath Page 3

  “They have pigeon,” I said, making a face. “You should try it.”

  “Is that a dare? Maybe I will.”

  When the server came back, I ordered a double round of fish tacos for myself and he went for a grilled chicken sandwich.

  “Chicken sandwich?” I asked after she left. “Are you always this exciting?”

  He blushed and for a moment I felt bad teasing him. His brow had been damp with sweat since we’d sat down. This was a man out of his environment. He was jumpy and if I said “Boo,” he might faint.

  “So you’re an accountant,” I said.

  “Yeah. Not exciting. Steady work, but great schedule once tax time is over. And you run a coffee shop? Not a chain store?”

  “Small franchise. We’re just moving into a new location which isn’t open yet, but it’s done well in three places so far, so fingers crossed.”

  “Well, here’s to people owing the government money and to the caffeine that fuels our economy.”

  We both sipped.

  “I guess there was some excitement over in the city,” I said.

  “I heard but didn’t read the news. It’s all too stressful these days.”

  “So what do you read?”

  “For fun? Movie forums, film blogs, reviews, that sort of thing. Although I don’t get out to see many, at least I keep up with what’s out. Besides, most of the good stuff streams online.”

  “And by good stuff…”

  “Oh, well, depends which genre. I watch Hong Kong kung fu, film noir, westerns, just about anything really. But usually when winding down I settle in with documentaries and such.”

  “Exciting,” I said.

  Again the blush. But he continued on, this time unintimidated. “It’s nice getting a slice of the world in long-form, not boiled down to a headline or sound bite or wisecracking analysis. It turns the volume down on a world obsessed with Chronos, Maid of Honor, Ensign Nutso, and every other costumed man and woman with a special ability. At least no one got killed today.”

  “I thought you didn’t read about it.”

  He turned the glass of beer on his coaster. “I guess I scanned the article.”

  “It’s hard not to,” I said, letting him off the hook. “It’s like we’re all bystanders and helpless to do anything when one of these people decides to flex his muscles.”

  Or burn a building down. Or drop a car on a crowd. Or…

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Just hungry.” I gulped some ice tea and hoped it would prompt him to finish his beer so he could order another. But he didn’t. Most of the beer was still in the glass. Spiking it was going to be tricky.

  Our food arrived. Both of my taco plates were overflowing with lettuce, while the tacos themselves held only a few scraps of fried fish tucked into the tortilla along with a fancy glop of aioli. They tasted good, though. I ate two before coming up for air.

  He only nibbled at his sandwich. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this.”

  “You’re doing fine. How’s your beer? It looks like they’ve got a bunch of local styles on tap. I’ll get the server to get you another. Or we can order something a little stronger.”

  “I shouldn’t. This is already making my head fuzzy.”

  “Let’s both order one.”

  When the server came by, I asked for two gin and tonics.

  “You’re committed now,” I said. “Some sort of artisan gin from upstate. How can you say no?”

  He nodded and tried unsuccessfully to manufacture a smile. But at least he was able to make eye contact. This was more exhausting than I had imagined.

  While eating my last taco, half the contents went down the front of my jacket. Clumsy me. I used up my napkin and his when he offered it.

  “Can you go grab me another one?” I asked.

  He got up and went to the wait station. A rush of guilt surprised me as I poured a couple of shots of vodka from my flask into his gin and tonic. A quick stir with a finger was all it needed. I had the flask away by the time he returned.

  “I guess I need to update my profile,” I said. “Prolific slob.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Carter said. “I can always dribble ketchup down my shirt to even us out.”

  I laughed. It was genuine. He finally got around to eating half his sandwich and drank most of his beer and gin and tonic when I told him how good mine tasted. Then he flagged down the server for the check.

  “The gin and tonic was excellent,” I said. “Let’s have another.”

  He shook his head. More sweat beaded his face. “I really don’t drink that much. I think we’d better go.”

  The bill arrived. He took a moment to pay using his phone and calculated a 20 percent tip, doing the math without moving his lips. Once the server took the check holder and returned with a receipt, we walked out of the restaurant.

  We paused a little ways away from a loud group talking just outside the front doors.

  “That was a really good chicken sandwich,” he said and offered me his hand.

  “Wait, it’s only a couple minutes past seven.”

  “Look, you’re a good sport and really friendly,” he said with a slight stammer, “but I don’t want to keep you longer than good manners dictate.”

  “Good manners? You think I’ve been humoring you or asked you out just to get a free meal?”

  His ungainly shrug told me enough. That was exactly what he was thinking and had no doubt experienced who knew how many times.

  “You’d see me again?” he asked.

  “I’d ask you the same thing. I’m the one who dumped a taco all over myself. But you can’t be that tired. Is your place near here? Maybe you can show me one of those Hong Kong movies you mentioned. Unless it’s already past your bedtime.”

  “No, I’m not…it’s uh. I’m a little woozy,” he said with a short laugh. “My place is a ten-minute walk from here.”

  We walked. He giggled a little too loud at the slightest joke. At a curb, he almost stumbled but I caught him by the elbow.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. No. Maybe,” he slurred. “I usually don’t have more than one beer because of my medication. I’m feeling a little off. Maybe we should postpone…”

  “Let me at least get you home.” I kept him walking until we arrived at an apartment with a metal security gate that needed a key. “Is this your place?”

  He nodded. As he fumbled with his pocket, I helped him with his keys. The gate squeaked as it opened and we passed through to a glass door and an elevator lobby.

  “What floor?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t normally…I haven’t had anyone up in a long time. Might be best for you to take a rain check.”

  “You can barely stand. What floor are you?”

  I hit the call button. The elevator whined as it descended. The whole time Carter stared at me as if trying to remember something. He giggled again. The elevator doors slid open.

  “Floor?” I prompted.

  “Two.”

  We rode up a floor and he feebly pointed down the hall. The corner unit was his. This time he managed with his key and hesitated. I gave him a push and followed him in. He wasn’t particularly strong but he was large enough that he could have been trouble if he wasn’t about to keel over. I helped him to a reclining chair and he turned into a rag doll and collapsed. But his eyes were locked on me.

  “You should go,” he said. “I’m not up for a movie.”

  I checked the place. I saw no signs of a roommate, but then I saw a picture on his computer desk of him with a black woman on a beach someplace tropical. Then a second photo showed both of them standing in wedding attire.

  “You’re married?”

  “She died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Five years.” I thought he was going to say more, but he trailed off. Then he rose and scrambled to the bathroom. The sounds of retching followed. I went to help and took his jacket off as he knelt
in front of the toilet. I took the jacket into the living room and went through the pockets. His wallet only had a few dollars in it and no credit card. I looked at his phone. It had a lock screen.

  I stuck my head back in the bathroom. “What’s your phone pin?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’d like to call someone to let them know your condition. Maybe your mom? Or dad?”

  “All gone,” he said.

  “In-laws? Neighbor? Friend? There must be someone.”

  He gave me a blank stare. I wouldn’t get much from the phone anyway. The online payment services didn’t work the same as a good old-fashioned credit card. But might have a paper credit card statement somewhere with the number on it.

  I helped him up. He splashed water on his face and rinsed. “This is awful,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got to lie down.”

  “It’s all right. Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I got him to his bedroom where he crawled onto the bed and collapsed. Once his shoes were off, I retreated back into the living room.

  His laptop prompted me for a password as it woke up from sleep mode. He had a desktop computer with a pair of monitors but it too was password protected. I didn’t see any scribbled notes anywhere to give me a clue. I pulled open the largest drawer. Carter apparently hadn’t gone paperless, as he had plenty of files stuffed inside. The front file was all newspaper clippings and printouts. It was jammed in the drawer and so big I couldn’t get to anything behind it. I removed the massive file and couldn’t help but take a look.

  It was all about Chronos. Hundreds of pages worth. Magazine articles. Blog posts. Police reports. Dates on the articles went back at least a decade, and in many places wherever Chronos was quoted, the page was highlighted in yellow.

  I had just whammied Chronos’s biggest fan.

  But then I remembered his bio.

  Hates superheroes.

  Who was this guy?

  Chapter Five

  I made a cursory search of the rest of Carter’s place. His only piece of jewelry was a wedding ring on a chain hanging on a picture of his wife. He had a cheap wristwatch in a drawer, but little else that could easily be sold. Without the computer password, the whole evening was a bust.

  I should have taken the laptop and left.

  Still, the fact that he had a file on Chronos piqued my curiosity. Plenty of people fanboyed on superheroes. Chronos had thousands of unofficial clubs and social media groups and more than a few people who thought he was a god. But Carter’s collection of clippings, although disorganized, felt different. A bit clinical, as if Chronos was a subject Carter was studying. There was little else in the man’s apartment to suggest fandom of any kind. Even an entry-level booster club member would have a button or sticker, or a picture of their hero up on the fridge.

  I returned to the filing cabinet. He had files on other supers and a few villains, but the Chronos file was by far the largest. I leafed through it again, this time more carefully. Many of the news articles were of casualties suffered in the course of any of a hundred fights Chronos had had with an array of crooks and villains. I was familiar with all the events and had a few of the same clippings saved on my tablet.

  There was more stuffed into the back of the drawer. It was a file full of older articles. One immediately caught my attention.

  Chronos tangles with Strongarm, the Post headline read. Three dead, hundreds saved. I didn’t have a copy of this particular article. I didn’t need one. I had survived the event. But Peter and Emily Lewis hadn’t. My parents. On the second page of the article was a picture of my mom and dad. It felt like I had a snake winding around my throat. Couldn’t breathe. Maybe I didn’t want to.

  “Carter, why do you have all this?”

  But he was asleep in the bedroom. I checked to make sure he was breathing and he was. Even snoring a little. This was my cue to exit. Any minute a friend or member of Carter’s family might show up and I would be toast. My close call with Princess Pike might have already alerted the cops that I was somehow involved in criminal behavior. Villains didn’t normally go after poor people.

  Instead I went to his fridge. Each shelf was neatly arranged with a wide variety of foodstuffs with all the labels facing outward. I took out an Italian mineral water. Fancy stuff. I drank some and read through more clippings and printouts and wondered about the man I was trying to rob.

  Carter stirred noisily a few hours later. His phone had been going off with text message pings. I’d muted it and checked the screen. Someone named Megan kept asking questions.

  How’d the date go? Did she show up? You still alive?

  Family? Coworker? It made sense—even guys worried enough about blind dates set up on sketchy dating websites to tell a friend. You never know who you’ll run into.

  He emerged from the bedroom and went to his jacket I had draped on the back of his couch. As he fumbled for the pocket where his phone used to be, I casually set it aside on his computer desk. I probably should have tied him up if I wanted to have a real chat with him. I wanted information and if he figured out what I had been up to, he might be trouble. But I had a clear path to his front door and felt certain I could beat him there if he tried anything.

  “Carter? How are you feeling?”

  “Woozy. Jade? You’re still here. What happened?”

  “You were faint when we left the restaurant and I got you home.”

  “My mouth is dry.”

  I had him sit in his recliner as I got him a glass of water. He gulped a few swallows down and then coughed. “I’m sorry, I’m still really fuzzy.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. You said something about medication and not usually drinking so I thought I’d stick around.”

  He struggled to focus on me and then stiffened when he saw his desk and the papers I had out.

  “What are you doing in my files?”

  He tried to rise but fell forward. I caught him. His hands gripped the front of my jacket as I eased him back down into his chair. It took little effort to peel his fingers off me.

  “I couldn’t get into your phone to call anyone who might look after you,” I said. “So I went through some of your things. I was going to go to your neighbors, but then you woke up. Do you need to throw up again? If you do, I can bring you a bucket or something.”

  “I think I’m okay. But what are you doing with that file?”

  “Reading about Chronos.”

  Again, he attempted to get up.

  “Hey! Carter, relax. I’ll put it all away. I didn’t do anything but leaf through it all.”

  He looked like he was on the verge of panic as I put all the files back where I had found them. When I had trouble closing the drawer, I thought he was going to fall out of his chair again.

  “So you’re a Chronos fan,” I said.

  “He’s a research subject. Look, Jade, you shouldn’t be going through my things. Thanks for helping me, but it’s late and time for you to leave.”

  “Cool your jets. We need to talk first.”

  “About what?”

  “About what you have in that file. Tell me why you’ve been keeping track of Chronos.”

  “It’s none of your business. Please show yourself out.”

  “In a minute. I know it’s pretty amazing there’s someone who can fly and do all the things he does. Plenty of people keep up with his activities. Is that what this is for you? Are you one of his followers? Have a pair of Chronos Underoos to show your support for your favorite superhero?”

  Color rose in Carter’s cheeks. He reached around before noticing his phone by me next to the computer. “Give me my phone.”

  “Tell me first why you have that file.”

  “No. It’s my private business!”

  “It’s okay that you’re obsessed with him. I am too. When I was a kid everyone wanted to be him. Someone strong, immune to being hurt, able to fly. He’s the perfect man. What’s not to admire?”

 
“I don’t admire him.” He managed to stand. Wobbly, but he remained upright. “I’m not obsessed with Chronos. I think he’s the worst thing that ever happened to our city and planet. He’s dangerous and hurts people. Every time he shows up someone dies, but the press can’t seem to get around to blaming him for things that are clearly his fault. They love him too much. So does everyone else. So take your Chronos fixation out of my apartment.”

  He appeared winded by his rant. With an outstretched hand, he gestured towards the door.

  “Chronos killed my parents,” I said softly.

  “What?” he asked, clearly disarmed.

  “Ten years ago. It happened during his fight with Strongarm near Battery Park. Strongarm was escaping from a botched armored car robbery and Chronos tracked him there. Everyone says it was Strongarm who killed the three that died, but that’s not how it happened.”

  “I know that case well. You were there?”

  I nodded. “It was our corny family outing that my dad made us do once a month. I was getting a bit old for it, but my mom and dad insisted. It was a chance to spend time together when we were all getting so busy. Them with work, me with school. Except we picked the wrong day. The wrong place.”

  Carter eased himself down onto a hassock. He was all ears. And I couldn’t stop myself from speaking. The story just spilled out. I had hardly talked about it since the event. No one had believed me, not the cops or my uncle. There was one boyfriend a few years back, but he was all about moving on and letting matters go.

  “Strongarm and Chronos came crashing into the park, already exchanging blows. They were so fast. No one had time to react. They smashed trees, benches, a statue. Then Chronos began to hammer Strongarm into the dirt. Blow after blow. Strongarm was done, but Chronos wasn’t. He picked him up, flew into the air, and paused.

  “I’ll never forget his face. He was like a wild man who had lost all control. He was smiling ever so slightly, had a mad gleam in his eye. He launched Strongarm straight at us. I ducked. My mom and dad, they…”