4
I lost all sense of time and space. I was in a car, a car I didn’t want to be in, with some dangerous men. What they wanted with me and where they were taking me, I couldn’t imagine, but I didn’t feel frightened. A blue haze bathed my fear, softening it. Voices and bits of conversation floated in and out of my drugged mind.
“Can’t believe she got you two fools with pepper spray . . .”
“Not our fault . . .”
“Didn’t know . . .”
“Thought she’d go down quicker . . .”
I lapsed into unconsciousness once more.
Something hard and cold pressed against my cheek, so cold that it burned. I jerked my head up. A million needles stabbed my jumbled brain. The hot pricking traveled from my head down my spine and into my limbs. A groan of pain escaped my numb, cold, chapped lips.
“Well, well. Look who’s awake. Rise and shine, Lois Lane.”
Cold, rough hands hauled me up. The room spun around, and I struggled to focus. I found myself face-to-face with one of my kidnappers. His beady eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red and runny. I studied him, memorizing every detail of his flat face, his clothes, his mannerisms. I wanted to give the police an accurate description of my kidnapper, if somehow I got out of this alive.
We were in a small, empty, concrete room with only one door. I thought about distances and angles and running.
“Jimmy!” the man yelled. “We’ve got a live one.”
The second man entered the room and grabbed my arm. I studied him as well. They dragged me outside. The sudden motion made me sick. I took deep breaths and tried not to vomit. Focus, focus! I had to be sharp, be strong. That was the only way I was going to get out of this mess.
I forced my mind away from the stabbing needles and throbbing headache and concentrated on my surroundings. We stood in an enormous factory or plant of some kind. A long, winding assembly line snaked over pipes, under catwalks, and around huge vats. Fog puffed up from the silver canisters. But what caught my attention was the ice—it covered everything, from the concrete floor to the metal pipes high overhead. The temperature hovered around the freezing mark. My ragged breath frosted in the air.
The two men half dragged, half carried me up a flight of stairs. I tried to dig my heels into the ground, but they skidded along the frozen floor like a pair of ice skates.
“I wish Frost had picked another place to do his experiments,”the second man grumbled after slipping on the icy incline.
“Quiet!” the first man hissed. “Or he’ll put the deep freeze on you.”
My own insides froze with fear. I knew who Frost was. The ubervillain was a member of the Terrible Triad, along with Scorpion and Malefica. If my head didn’t feel like a marching band had taken up residence inside, I might have been able to give my two kidnappers the slip. But I was no match for Frost or any other member of the Triad, even on their worst, most inept day. My inner voice let out a small, plaintive wail. This was not going to end well.
The goons dragged me through a dark hallway. We emerged onto a platform overlooking part of the factory. Ice and frost and metal stretched out as far as I could see. The two men stopped. I hung between them like a rag doll.
I cocked my head. A faint sound echoed in the distance. I concentrated. The sound came again, then again. It took me a moment, but I recognized it. The distinctive click-click-clack of high-heel shoes rang out through the factory, getting louder and closer with every step. My doom approached.
Malefica, the leader of the Terrible Triad, strolled into view. Skin-tight, bloodred leather hugged her perfect figure from head to toe. A black leather whip looped around her impossibly thin waist, while a black M strained to cover her impressive chest. A black-and-red mask obscured her face, while a red cowl hid her hair from sight. A scarlet cape and strappy sandals completed the fashionably evil ensemble.
“Ah. I see our guest has arrived. We’ve been expecting you, haven’t we, boys?”
Frost and Scorpion stepped out of the shadows. I gasped.
Frost was a tall, skinny man clad in an ice blue suit. A shock of white-blond hair stood straight up on his head, and his eyes glowed with a vivid, blue flame. With bulging, rippling muscles, very wide shoulders, and a shaved head, Scorpion was the polar opposite of Frost. He wore black from head to toe and looked as solid as cement.
And so I found myself face-to-face with every superhero’s worst nightmare—the Terrible Triad. I swallowed.
“Leave us,” Malefica barked to the two hired hands.
The men dropped my arms and scurried away like rats. I wobbled and tried to remain upright.
Malefica’s ruby red lips curved into a smile. “Carmen Cole. It’s an honor. I’ve been a fan of your work for some time now.”
My inner voice muttered. Somehow, I managed to speak. “Sorry, I can’t say the same.”
“Aren’t you the feisty one? Pity.”
Malefica backhanded me. The sound cracked like thunder. The woman worked out, that was for sure. I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. The needles returned, worse than before. My head felt like it was going to explode into a million, pulpy pieces. I bit back a groan of pain. I was nothing, less than nothing, to the Triad. I would likely be dead within the next five minutes, but I vowed not to show weakness in front of them. I would not! My scraps of pride wouldn’t let me.
I stared at the scarlet sandal tapping in front of my aching face and burning brain. It was the only way I could take my mind off the searing pain rippling up and down my body. Plus, I found it odd and somewhat funny how big and clownlike Malefica’s feet were in proportion to the rest of her lithe body.
“Nice sandals,” I croaked. “Bulluci’s fall collection?”
“Good eye,” Malefica said. “Now get up. We have things to discuss.”
I slowly, slowly staggered to my feet, held my head in my hands, and tried to keep the world from careening out of control. I wasn’t very successful. Unconcerned, Malefica sashayed away, her shoes click-click-clacking on the iced-over floor. Every footstep made my head ache even more. I limped along behind her. Frost and Scorpion brought up the rear, making me the middle of an ubervillain sandwich. Terrific.
Malefica twisted and turned her way through the factory until we reached an office. I stepped over the threshold and blinked. It was a room fit for a queen. Wingback chairs and an enormous love seat sat on one side of the room, while a huge, canopied bed took up the other section. A mahogany desk piled high with papers crouched next to a tall liquor cabinet. Flames blazed in a marble fireplace, and sinfully thick carpet covered the floor. It was the plushest ubervillain lair money could buy. Despite my fear of imminent, painful death, I made mental notes, not only of the room, but also of the objects in it. Not that the police would believe I’d been kidnapped by ubervillains, but a girl had to try.
“Sit.”
I did as I was told. There was no point in being stubborn. Besides, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand. It was hard to remain upright when your knees shook like leaves in a tornado.
Malefica strolled over to the liquor cabinet. She plucked some crystal glasses and a bottle of amber-colored liquid out of the dark depths.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No,” I said, even though my throat was as dry as a sandbox.
“Are you sure? It’s Brighton’s Best.”
I recognized the reference from my months on the society beat. That was a fifteen-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch that Malefica was holding. “No. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Pity.”
Malefica poured a couple of fingers’ worth of Scotch into a crystal tumbler. Frost and Scorpion settled themselves on the love seat.
My inner voice whispered. Suddenly, I knew that Malefica and her companions weren’t going to kill me. Not tonight. They’d gone to too much trouble to bring me here when they could have just murdered me on the sidewalk. They wanted something from me. More cold dread filled my stomach. But what could it be?
Malefica reclined in the leather chair behind the desk. She took a long pull on her drink then set it aside. Unless I missed my guess, the glass was a Hilustar tumbler. The crystal cups went for five thousand bucks a pop, making them a pricey way to quench your thirst. Then again, it would be terribly gauche to drink fifteen-thousand-dollar Scotch from a plastic cup.
“The reason you’re not dead by now is that my associates and I have a job for you.” Malefica’s voice reminded me of a purring, pleased cat. I hated cats.
My instincts had been right once again. Maybe I would live through this yet. “A job? What sort of job?”
“A very special job, one that only you can do.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Malefica tapped her long, scarlet nails together. “We want you to uncover the identity of Striker, the leader of the Fearless Five.”
Laughter bubbled up inside me like fizzy champagne. I tried to stop it, as it wasn’t very polite or good for your health to guffaw at an ubervillain when she was trying to cow you into doing her bidding. But the cork popped, and it spewed out anyway. I laughed.
And laughed . . .
And laughed . . .
And laughed some more.
Malefica pressed her scarlet lips into a thin, hard line. Her green eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry. But you’re kidding, right?” I wiped away my tears of hysterical mirth.
“She’s quite serious,” Frost said in a, well, frosty sort of voice.
“You unmasked Tornado. What could be so hard about Striker?” Scorpion growled. He cracked a few of his massive knuckles. The sounds echoed through the room like gunshots. “He’s not really so tough once you beat on him a little.”
I stared at the mountain of a man. “Tornado was sloppy; he made a mistake. Striker doesn’t make mistakes. The guy’s a ghost. I researched him for months and months and found nothing. No habits, no hobbies, no girlfriends or boyfriends, no widowed aunts who need rescuing over and over again. He’s untraceable.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to find a way to track him down,” Malefica said. “Or else.”
I rolled my eyes. Ubervillains. Always so dramatic. My inner voice snickered, and a little bit of my courage returned. “Or else what? You’ll kill me until I’m dead, dead, dead? Sorry, you’ll have to be more creative. I’ve heard that one before.”
Malefica smiled. Chills zipped down my spine.
“Ah. Smart girl. I knew you’d ask. Let’s go for a walk.”
Malefica led the way to a large platform that overlooked another series of huge, metal vats. A bank of computers winked at one end of the room. Four large, glass tubes with wires and electrodes attached to them crouched next to the electronic equipment. Blue and green and red liquid dripped and bubbled and gurgled in beakers on top of a workbench. All sorts of odd-shaped gadgets and doodads and gewgaws covered another table. It was Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory come to life. What the hell was the Triad up to?
Malefica pointed to the vats below us. “See those? Frost has concocted a special sort of . . . what did you so scientifically call it?”
“Radioactive, ice-cold goo,” Frost said. “Actually, it’s called freezeterium, a special chemical that produces some rather interesting effects in clinical trials.”
Malefica waved her hand. “You know how your scientific blathering bores me. Let’s move on.”
We walked down a flight of stairs. A row of cages sat on the floor next to the bottom of the vats. Animals stirred at the crunch of our shoes on the icy floor.
“Go ahead,” Malefica said. “Get a good look.”
I crept up to the first cage. A large wolf crouched inside. I edged closer. The creature rose to its feet, and I realized it was twice the size of a normal wolf. It turned around, and I gasped. It was a wolf, and yet not a wolf.
It had probably been a wolf at some time in its life, but the creature was now a thing of nightmares. Long, jagged tusks jutted out from its enormous mouth. Ice blue eyes the size of saucers stared at me. The creature yawned, revealing a long, black tongue and row upon row of razor-sharp teeth, teeth that could rip a man to shreds in an instant. My gaze traveled downward. The creature’s fur was the color of new snow, but huge, ugly, black talons curved out from its paws.
“Keep going,” Malefica ordered.
I swallowed a mouthful of bile. Sweat froze on my forehead. I tiptoed down the row of cages. Nightmare after nightmare greeted me from behind the metal bars.
“What are these things?”
“Wolves, mostly. A few foxes, the odd squirrel or two. The bears all died,” Frost replied in a cold, clinical voice. “The creatures have all been given varying doses of freezeterium, with a variety of outcomes, as you can see.”
At the sound of Frost’s voice, the animals leapt forward. They snarled and clawed at the bars on their cages. I jumped back. The animals’ rage, their absolute hatred for Frost, and their shame at being transformed into such monstrosities hit me like an ice-cold wave. My stomach flipped over.
“See how my pets love me?” he cooed.
“What are you trying to do?” I whispered.
“I’m seeing what effect freezeterium has upon various animals before I begin conducting human trials.”
“Human trials? Why?”
Frost gave me patronizing look. “It’s what I do.”
“Frost fancies himself a scientist. He wants to create his own little army of snow-bunny soldiers,” Malefica explained.
“I am a scientist,” Frost sniffed. “It’s not my fault the academic community refuses to acknowledge my brilliance.”
Malefica put a hand around my shoulder and led me away from the cages. I shuddered at her touch. Her perfume worked its way up my nose and down my throat. It was a sweet, cloying scent that made me want to retch.
The ubervillain steered me back up the stairs to the glass tubes and computers. I’d always known the Triad was the worst of the worst, but the depths of their depravity stunned me. Experimenting on helpless animals, planning to do the same to humans. Hot, sour vomit rose in my throat. Somehow, I forced it down. I would get through this. I would. Then, I would find a way to stop these vile people.
Yeah, right. As if I had a chance against three of the world’s most powerful ubervillains. Right now, I would settle for just getting out of this alive.
“So you see, our proposition is really quite simple,” Malefica purred in a pleased tone. “You will discover Striker’s identity, or else Frost will drop you into the radioactive goo until you come out looking like one of his little pets. Only worse, I imagine. After all, his project is still in the experimental stages.”
“I see.” I forced the words out from my stiff, frozen lips. “Why me?”
“Because you have the best success rate. You’ve unmasked thirteen heroes and villains in a little over three years. Nobody else has even come close to that number. You seem to have a gift for it. Maybe that’s your superpower.” Malefica laughed at her bad joke. Her peals of merriment rang like a dirge for the dead in my head.
“You have one month from tomorrow. When the month is up, go to Laurel Park in Bigtime. There’s a bench at the far edge of the park next to a wooden swing set. Be there at midnight. Do you know where that is?”
I knew the park well. It was one of my favorite places to go for a walk. “Yes.”
“Good. Then our business is concluded.” Malefica’s green eyes grew dark and sinister. “One more thing. Should you discover Striker’s identity before the month is out, don’t even think about going to him—or any other superhero— for help. They can’t protect you from us. I imagine they would turn you down anyway, as much trouble as you’ve caused them.”
She was right. No superhero in his right mind would have anything to do with me, unless the fate of the world was at stake. I didn’t think saving my own miserable neck would measure up to that high standard. Without superpowers and a safe place to hide for the next fifty or so years, the ubervillains would eventually get me, unless I did exactly what they said, when they said it. Malefica and the others were alarmingly persistent about taking their revenge. More than one of the Triad’s flunkies had spilled his guts about the group’s latest world-domination scheme and disappeared into witness protection, only to wash up in the marina a couple of days later—missing several vital organs. It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or even next month, but the ubervillains would find me, corner me, and finish me off in the most drawn-out, painful manner possible if I crossed them in any way, shape, or form.
“We’ll be keeping tabs on you, Miss Cole, so don’t think about trying to leave town,” Malefica continued. “There’s nowhere you can hide. Ubervillains are surprisingly unselfish about sharing information when it comes to people who’ve done them wrong. But if by some miracle, we can’t find you, well, we’ll just have to take our anger out on someone else. Perhaps Henry Harris, that technology reporter at the newspaper. You seem to be fond of him. So, think carefully before you do anything rash.”
I closed my eyes. I was trapped, caught like a fly in a spider’s sticky web.
Malefica snapped her fingers. Something pricked my arm. Then, mercifully, I passed out.