pushed on.
“The people of California just passed the Watch List bill, and it puts any superhuman with a police record on probation. With your drug and disturbance arrests, all I’ve got to do is pass the word about your enlightenment and you’ll have the LAPD climbing up your butt. Try and get your prescriptions filled then.”
Willis took a breath, impressed or ready to fight. Or both.
“And you don’t think I owe you now?” Mr. Jones asked.
“I don’t know you well enough to count on gratitude.”
He nodded. “You’re on somebody’s watch-list yourself. They were here because of you. Wanted to know why you were talking to a PI in LA. And to me. Making someone nervous?”
He kicked the bag back. “We both have sticks.” Orb made a noise, and he put a hand on her knee.
“But I owe somebody something now. You can buy me a ticket to Chicago. Two.”
Willis and I were back on the street five minutes later. The police and the news-wagons were long gone, the neighbors out of sight. Somebody left us a parking ticket.
Chapter Eleven
Superheroes aren’t agents of the law, and most of what they do is in the area of emergency response, but since they are known for making citizens’ arrests, engaging in hot pursuit, and exercising warrants where superhumans are involved, the distinction is often lost on the public. Police departments are very aware of the distinction, and even the most professional and diplomatic CAI hero will occasionally find himself having to step carefully with the legal authorities.
Blackstone, Operation and Procedures.
* * *
I flew in late enough to count as early, and crept into bed without waking Mom and Dad. Graymalkin’s whiskers woke me the next morning, tickling my chin. Stretching, I winced. Gray protested when I put him off the bed and got up, and I wanted to yowl too when I looked in the mirror. A beautiful blue shiner looked back at me. It matched my bruised knuckles; hitting Blacktop had hurt.
I considered makeup for two seconds, and sighed. It wouldn’t fool the parentals.
Putting my hair in a quick pony-tail, I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and bolted downstairs, headed for the door. No luck. “Hope?” Mom called from the kitchen as I reached the open front door.
“Gotta run!” I yelled over my shoulder, then yelped as I ran into Dad. I hadn’t been pushing it, but he oofed as I bounced off him. He dropped the paper and grabbed me for balance.
“Dad!”
“Hope!” he mimicked, chuckling, then froze in the act of reaching for the paper. His grip on my elbow tightened and he closed the door, leaving the paper on the porch.
“You should see the other guy?” I quipped desperately.
“I think I should,” he said. And meant it.
“No! He’s in LA, in the Block!”
“I have lots of frequent-flier miles,” he replied. The floorboards creaked as he started to change.
“Darling, don’t embarrass Hope,” Mom said from behind me, putting a stop to that. Rescued!
My family’s big on sports, but Dad had hated my playing field hockey. Once I’d gotten kneecapped in the middle of a scrum and the referee had ignored the foul. Dad had carried me off the field, which had been embarrassing enough when I remembered it later, but then he’d been all over the ref once my knee was wrapped. It’s not often parents get banned from games.
Dad reversed himself before going full Iron Jack—a good thing since he was dressed for the office and the change would have burst his buttons and blown out his shoes. Still holding my elbow, he turned me about so Mom could see. She touched my cheek, and sighed.
“Shelly said you’d gotten in a fight. Let’s all sit down.”
“Shelly?” Dad said, lost.
“Yes, dear. Shelly’s come home,” Mom said, as easily as if she’d said Toby’s moving back in. She steered us back to the kitchen, where her laptop lay open on the table, and sat Dad down in front of it.
“Hi Mr. C!” Shelly said. Priceless.
By the time the conversation came back around to my shiner, Dad had calmed down. I was able to pass off the LA trip as research for Blackstone, and he even nodded approvingly when he heard how the fight went. But the idea of my getting into fights where there was no ready backup didn’t sit well.
Mom stepped in before he could scold me.
“You really must be more careful of your secret identity, dear,” she said. I sighed, nodding; she was right—the only thing Blacktop didn’t know