room. “Champagne?”
“Absolutely,” Suzanne murmured, scooping a flute off the silver tray before cutting her way to the center of the ballroom. I lifted my own glass, smiling as I watched her go. The ballroom Arun had rented for the night was decked out like an elaborate Roman temple, with white pillars, busts of forgotten emperors and gods, and mosaics of Apollo and Alexander the Great. Landscape portraits hung along walls draped in silks, and white candles of all sizes pooled off waist-high pedestals, threatening to set the guests afire.
There was a make-it-yourself sachet bar at the back of the room, while more menservants wandered about with expensive lotions and perfumes, others carrying silver trays bearing exotic fruits, fresh vegetables, mini- quiches, and sandwiches. It was, I thought, a brothel and buffet mixed into one.
Snagging a sampling of strawberries dipped in chocolate, I followed Suzanne to the front of the stage, looking to the press row for Vanessa. Eyes stared back at me, a few bright bulbs flashed, but none of them were my ally’s. I checked my phone for a message once seated, but there was still nothing. Maybe she’d had a breaking story to follow. She usually covered the crime beat, investigating anything that hinted of Shadow activity. Our aliases were carefully chosen so we could search out our enemies and thwart their plans. Or, if really lucky, take them out if it did nothing to impact the mortal population. It had been mere curiosity-the same curiosity Lena and Madeleine exhibited in the bathroom, minus the envy-that’d had Vanessa begging for a ticket to this event.
“These mortals are capricious, aren’t they?” she’d said, glancing over the perfumed and embossed invitation when I handed it to her. She was asking me because while she’d been reared as a member of the troop, I’d been raised as one of the mortals they protected. My metamorphosis last year from normal human being into twenty- first-century superheroine had taken both allies and enemies in the paranormal world by surprise. As for me, up until that point I’d thought superheroes were pop culture myths. That the emerging glyph on my chest, which now lit under attack, was just a severe case of heartburn.
That the attack that nearly killed me as a teen had been random.
I thought of Suzanne, and her stepdaughter Cher, who had been Olivia’s first and only best friend. “Well, these particular ones are capricious.”
“Oh, not them. I think your friends are great.”
I didn’t correct her about the women being “my” friends, as I might have in the past. Like everything else that had been Olivia Archer’s-her luxury condo, her car, her cat, and her wardrobe-what was hers was now mine. This had been difficult at first, and I was a bit thrown by how quickly people had forgotten me-Joanna Archer-and the tragic circumstances of my “death.” But I had a new life now, and all these women were a part of it.
But I was interested in what Vanessa thought of my mortal playmates. They were flighty, weak, shallow when the tide was out-everything she was not. So what could she possibly find likable? “How so?”
“Well, first of all, they didn’t have the advantage of growing up in a matriarchal society. I’d hate to be seen as the weaker sex.” She shuddered, and I half smiled, knowing what she meant. Zodiac women enjoyed an elevated status the rest of the world’s women couldn’t fathom. “They also have to deal with lessened physical abilities, so they rely more on their minds and feminine skills to get what they want.”
Which reminded me of Cher’s unwritten motto: Flirting-it’s a tool, not a weapon.
I shook my head. “They just don’t know any better. It’s the ignorance of being mortal.”
And before enduring an attack that had broken my body and spirit, I’d been gleefully ignorant. But all of that- mortality, injury, getting by in a man’s world-was well behind me. I had powers that enabled me to heal from man-made weapons, run faster, leap higher, and be stronger than any human could ever conceive. I could materialize walls from thin air and conjure plant life amid the most arid of terrain. My lungs had expanded like wings in my chest, and my every sense soared with each inhalation. It was like giving sight to someone who’d been blind since birth.
Mortality, I knew now, sucked.
Vanessa shook her head, like I’d said it aloud. “Not for your mother. She knew what she’d be giving up, and she chose mortality.”
“She did it for me.” And that was why and how I had all my powers. Zoe Archer had given hers over to me to save me from that long ago attack. But then she’d disappeared.
“But it’s her very humanity that keeps her safe. That fragile flesh is as strong an armament as an Amazon’s shield. She has the power to totally disappear. Becoming one of these capricious humans is her supernatural legacy. Now
But power and legacy weren’t the words that came to mind as I sipped my champagne and looked around now. I wished Vanessa were there so I could see what she’d make of the male attendants in oversized diapers, and the sparkling white runway soon to be filled with bridal lingerie. At least I didn’t have to be
“I’m sorry again about the henna,” Suzanne said, settling next to me in a puff of scent and silk and crystal embroidery. Lightbulbs flashed like mad from the photographer’s row as Cher joined us. “I know how long you waited as it was applied.”
“It wasn’t exactly a hardship.” I’d been massaged and served finger food and drink the whole time. I patted her hand, careful to keep the printless pads of my fingertips-the one true giveaway of my Zodiac status-from touching her soft hand.
“Well I, for one, am extremely disappointed,” Cher said, sending a little finger wave to Madeleine and Lena just behind us. She was dressed similarly to her stepmother, having gotten fully on board with the whole “ethnic thing,” as she called it. Her lengha had gold threads and colored gems handcrafted throughout, and revealed her navel, where another bright gem winked merrily. “I was test-driving a real tattoo. I wanted to put a butterfly right behind my right earlobe.”
Suzanne settled the fishtail of her gown around her legs. The shimmering jacquard winked elegantly in the pooling candlelight. “You mean for when you and your old man move into the double-wide?”
“Mama, your southern Baptist roots are showing! Tattoos are not trashy. They’re mainstream now. Just ask Angelina Jolie.”
“I will, next time Arun and I vacation with their clan in St. Moritz.” She made sure to say that loudly enough for Madeleine to hear. I smiled and sipped my wine. “And these weren’t just random designs or tattoos. Arun helped me assemble the collection, explaining each one’s significance in his culture.”
“They were beautiful,” I said, thinking again of the assorted mandalas. The delicate whorls and dots of the one I’d chosen had been almost mesmerizing…all the way up until they washed down my drain.
“Arun says they’re magic,” Suzanne replied, edging close, her tone dreamy at the magic of the man. Short courtship or not, she truly appeared to be in love. “They establish a sacred place on the body.”
“Oh, well that’s probably why they washed off,” Cher said, waving the whole issue away. “There are no sacred spaces left on our bodies.”
I snorted before I could help myself. At some point in the last year my acute grief over Olivia’s death had lessened to the point that my mind skipped more to the memories of her happy life, much of which included these two women. I’d even begun thinking of my impersonation of her as a sort of tribute, a way to keep her memory alive. Cher and Suzanne had been her greatest friends, and for that alone I’d be ever grateful, but their friendship helped cloak my real identity now, and that added weight to my gratitude.
So as the lights dimmed to low, I smiled as one of the biggest weapons in my undercover arsenal began clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh, goodie!” Cher giggled. “Here we go.”
The elegant notes of a violin filled the hall, the notes of Pachelbel’s Canon swelling as the chiffon curtains at the runway’s entrance slowly parted. Every smiling face turned Suzanne’s way. There was a smattering of applause and a delicious surge of anticipation, an emotion I could now pick out by scent. It was sugary and light, like softened vanilla and whipped cream. I inhaled deeply of the collective emotion…
And a big cake rolled into the room.
I tilted my head, sniffing. Shit, I couldn’t tell the difference between the anticipation and the cake?
“Is it someone’s fucking birthday too?” Madeleine muttered under her breath, as the giant cake slowly made its way down the runway. It was frosted entirely in white with red roses, giant chunks of glitter sparking from each bloom’s center. Madeleine’s remark was too low for Suzanne and Cher to hear, but I had no such problem. I turned and she sunk back in her seat at my glare. One word from me and she’d be sitting out the wedding of the decade. She smiled weakly, and I turned back around.
