his family at all, and I guiltily resolved to ask Fisher if they could give her a good story.
Our circle broke up. Seven and Riptide going back to their pool game, but Artemis caught my eye and we headed for the dining room. She wanted some face time so she could razz me over my new costume, plus Willis had promised her an omelet worth killing for and she insisted on sharing it before I went out on dusk-patrol.
* * *
With Shelly around, nobody needs an alarm clock. She woke me singing “I am the very model of a quantum-set intelligence! I‘ve information personal—oh, you’re awake!”
I threw Superpooh through her. “I'm so going to kick your quantum-ass!”
She stuck out her tongue. “Like you can. This isn’t a good time, but Dane just texted you.”
“What? Why?”
“He wants to meet up. Lots of SOS’s.”
I wanted to scream. And how was I supposed to do that, at Def-1? Then I laughed. “Text back. Say ‘Meet at noon, Sentinels’ Museum.’”
“But—”
“He deserves to know, Shell. Everybody else seems to. So, why the wakeup call?”
Her grin got wider. “Fisher’s clean. I’ve run his accounts six ways from Sunday, strip-mined his epad, broken down every case file, the man is clean clean sparkly clean. Fact, he hardly spends a dime except on smokes and whiskey, and has built up so much paid leave time his union hates him. Nothing has any connection to his casework—he has the most amazing closing record, it’s like he pulls leads out of his butt.”
I felt a million pounds lighter; I’d hated suspecting Fisher. Whatever his secret, I had no urge to mess things up for our favorite chain-smoking gumshoe by telling the CPD one of their senior detectives wasn’t what he seemed. Besides, they might already know.
I stretched. Even last night’s dream didn’t bring me down, since I’d woken up with a semi-solution.
“Shell? Do you think you could dive back into the Future Files today?”
“Sure.” She dropped to the bed beside me. “What never-going-to-happen-now stuff do you want to know about?”
“I’m not sure.” I groped to put words on my thought. “Artemis says we’re fighting with an ‘intelligence disadvantage.’ Villains Inc knows all about us—after all we have our own website—but we don’t know anything about them. Well, we know about two, but how many are there? Who are they? What can they do? What might they do?”
In my dream I’d been wandering through the darkened Dome, alone and threatened by shadowed figures I didn’t recognize. They’d posed and leered, but I’d been afraid to attack, not knowing what they could do.
“None of this ever happened before,” Shell said doubtfully. “Or at least it didn’t become part of the public record.”
“I know. I guess what I mean is, can’t you put together a list of likely supervillains? Including bad guys who just haven’t shown up yet but might be around now? If Villains Inc. stayed secret ‘before,’ maybe they would have shown up on their own in the future?”
“Oh! Blackstone and Artemis are already working on a hypothetical rogue’s gallery, assigning probabilities that the Wicked Witch has recruited them like she did Tin Man.” She laughed. “Think we’ll meet the Cowardly Lion next? I can add a list of bad guys who might be operating now and we just don’t know it, if that’s what you want.”
Since the Teatime Anarchist had left the Future Files to me, she needed my okay to release any information in them. I put on Mom’s serious, Foundation Boardroom Face. “Make it so,” I said. Then I shrieked as she started tickling. Tickle-fights, where your opponent is as solid as a dream, are one-sided and completely unfair.
* * *
Unable to go to class, I called around and got the lectures copied and emailed so I could listen to them later, and tried to distract myself with study. It didn’t work, and I finally took an unscheduled morning patrol. Southern winds still warmed the city, and Dispatch had instructions to only call me in for major incidents until we canceled the Def-1, so I enjoyed a quiet flight. I took a break atop the Sears Tower to enjoy the sun and dangle my feet over Whacker Drive.
I couldn’t help remembering what Atlas—John—had called it. Showing the flag. Letting people know we were up here, ready to help them, that they didn’t have to be afraid of us. Breakthrough-made godzillas. City-shattering earthquakes. Car-flattening iron dragons. How afraid will people get?
I landed at the Dome’s portico doors, waving back