Jinx (28 page)

34

‘You’re being stupid‘ Fiona announced. ‘Completely, totally, willfully, horribly, awfully stupid.”

I gave her a sour look. Fiona was one to talk about being stupid. She’d had Johnny convinced she was still in love with her dead fiancé before they’d gotten together.

Fiona and I sat in the kitchen at the Bulluci mansion, along with Carmen and Lulu. Fiona and Johnny had come back from their trip a couple of days early because of everything that had been going on. I’d invited Carmen and Lulu over to join us for brunch. Johnny and Grandfather were off watching a soccer game, while the other men in our lives were all busy with their day jobs.

It had been a little over a week since I’d last seen Devlin at the cemetery. He hadn’t called or even popped into the house to see me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Still, I checked the news on SNN every night before I went to bed and first thing when I got up in the morning—praying I’d see Debonair on there and hoping I wouldn’t.

I was a mess. A confused, sad, conflicted mess, which was why I’d invited my few girlfriends over to commiserate with me. What I hadn’t expected was for Fiona to berate me for my lack of faith in love.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Fiona punctuated her statement by shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. Two empty plates sat on the table beside her, along with a pitcher of apple juice and a tub of cream cheese she’d slathered on the six bagels she’d eaten. So far. We’d only sat down to brunch fifteen minutes ago.

Carmen and Lulu looked back and forth between the two of us, amused by the whole exchange.

“Why am I being so stupid?” I asked. “It’s all perfectly clear and logical to me.”

“That’s your problem. You’re so damn
sensible
all the time,” Fiona said. “Sometimes, you just have to follow your heart, Bella. No matter where it leads you. Carmen and Sam, and Lulu and Henry, are proof of that. The four of them couldn’t have been more wrong for each other, but they made their relationships work. Despite my efforts to the contrary.” She muttered that last part under her breath.

“Hey!” Lulu growled. “Henry and I were, are, and will always be perfect for each other. Besides, I’m not the one who beat my future husband to a bloody pulp while we were dating. That was all you, Fiona.”

Fiona’s eyes fixed on Lulu’s blue-streaked hair, and a few sparks fluttered from her fingertips. I was very glad we had tile floors throughout the house. Otherwise, Fiona would have burned it down long ago.

“I think what Fiona and Lulu are trying to say is that it takes a lot of effort and compromise to make a relationship work, no matter how perfect you might be for the other person—or how much you love him,” Carmen said, sliding a stack of pancakes to Fiona.

Fiona’s eyes fixed on the food, and the sparks around her fingers snuffed out. She was easily distracted sometimes.

“I do love him, but it’s never going to work. I can’t ask him to give up being Debonair for me, and I don’t want to be with a superhero.”

Carmen put her hand on top of mine. “I know how you feel, Bella. But you have to ask yourself—do you love him enough to at least give it a chance? And isn’t getting your heart broken better than never knowing if it would have worked out or not?”

The three of them went back to their brunch, but I didn’t have any appetite for the high-protein, low-fat cheese-and-spinach quiche in front of me. I stabbed a bit of burned cheese and ate it without really even tasting it. Were my friends right? Should I try to make things work with Devlin, even if he was and would always be Debonair?

I thought back to all the time we’d spent together. That first confrontation in Berkley’s house, meeting at the museum, our time in the Lair of Seduction, the way he held me, the way he listened to me, the way he loved me. He was a nice, mostly normal guy wrapped up in a bad-boy package. He was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.

And I knew what I had to do. I had to at least give Devlin a chance. I had to try. It was the only sensible thing to do.

Carmen looked at me, as if she knew what I’d decided. She smiled. “Go answer the phone, Bella. It’s for you.”

I looked at her. “But it’s not even ring—”

A second later, the phone in the kitchen rang out, a loud, beeping sound.

I looked at the phone, then at Carmen. “That’s just creepy.”

“Tell us about it,” Lulu said, taking a swig of her mimosa. “You don’t see her that much. We’ve got to deal with that stuff all the time.”

I walked over and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Bella. It’s Arthur Anders.”

“Hello, Arthur,” I said in a listless voice, wondering why the curator of the Bigtime Museum of Modern Art was calling me on a Sunday morning. “What’s up?”

“Bella, could I ask you to come down to the museum? I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”

“What is it? Is something wrong with the exhibit again?” I asked, worried.

Despite the latest attack, the museum had reopened, and the
Whimsical Wonders
exhibit was still on display—minus the Star Sapphire. Joanne hadn’t wanted it to be part of the show again, and I hadn’t blamed her. But it would be just my luck if some other disaster befell the exhibit, now that it had already been wrecked by ubervillains twice, and the main benefactor brutally murdered.

He hesitated. “Not exactly.”

Which meant there was something
seriously
wrong. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

“I’ll be there within an hour,” I promised and hung up.

“What was that about?” Fiona asked, slathering cream cheese on another blueberry bagel.

“I’m not sure, but it didn’t sound good.”

“Don’t worry, Bella. I think you’re in for a pleasant surprise.” Carmen’s eyes glowed for half a second. “A very pleasant surprise.”

“With my luck? I don’t think so, no matter what kind of psychic vibe you’re getting.”

“Oh, trust her, Bella,” Lulu piped up. “No matter how annoying she is, Sister Carmen and her psychic premonitions are rarely wrong.”

I didn’t know which I was more afraid of—my bad luck or Carmen’s uncanny ability to see into the future.

35

I kept my word, leaving the girls to their brunch and arriving at the museum about an hour later.

Arthur waited inside the door for me. I was a little taken aback by his appearance—jeans and a white polo shirt. It was the first time I’d ever seen the curator not wearing his usual plaid jacket.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Calm down, Bella. Nothing’s wrong with the exhibit. In fact, a piece has been added to it. One that I think you’ll like very much.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about? We didn’t get any more donations. Not since the second ubervillain attack.”

After that, I’d had to work very hard to convince people to leave anything on display. To my surprise, Joanne had helped me, pretty much bullying everyone else into doing what she wanted. I still didn’t understand why.

Arthur gestured for me to follow him. “I got a call this morning from the security folks saying that someone had broken in. The weird thing was that he didn’t take anything. Instead, he left something behind for once. A drawing.”

My heart started to pound. Somehow, I knew Debonair was behind this. Devlin, Devlin, what had you done?

“Can I see it?” I asked.

“Of course. That’s why I called you. The person who broke in left a note, saying you were the one who had done the drawing, although you had nothing to do with the break-in itself.”

I almost fainted, and my hair frizzed so badly I thought it would leave my head altogether. I knew what I was going to see even before Arthur stepped aside to show me the piece of paper. My drawing of Debonair hung in the middle of a wall, right next to a painting by Pandora, as though it were the same sort of masterpiece. Somehow, all the crinkles and stains and rumples had been smoothed out of the paper, and it had been mounted and framed in silver. Even if I hadn’t drawn it, I would have thought it was a breathtaking piece—or maybe that was just because I happened to be in love with the subject.

“Do you recognize it?” Arthur asked.

I swallowed. “Yes, it’s something I drew a few weeks ago after the first attack on the museum.”

“I see.”

Arthur continued to stare at the drawing, his eyes dark and hooded. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. That I was still an amateur artist with no real talent—and that I always would be.

“Here,” I said, stepping forward. “This must be someone’s idea of a practical joke. I’ll take it down.”

“Leave it up,” he said.

“What? Why?”

The curator smiled. “We’d like to keep it on display. In fact, if you have any more work that’s similar to this, we’d like to see that as well.”

“You want to what?” I asked, stunned.

“We want to do an exhibit of your drawings. You have a wonderful style, Bella. You’ve really grown as an artist. You’ve finally found your passion. You should share it with others.”

Arthur pointed to the drawing and began describing everything he liked about it—from the shading to the subtle shadows to the smoky detail. In short, he loved it—and wanted to see more works. Pronto.

“This is like a dream,” I said in a shaky tone. My knees felt like they were going to buckle. “I can’t believe you like my work, especially after that critique you gave me in college.”

Arthur patted my arm. “Of course I like it. I’ve always liked it. You’re very talented, Bella. You just needed to find a way to fully express yourself. Your work has always been good, but this—
this
is truly magnificent.”

Arthur started talking to me about when I could show him more of my work, but all I could think about was Devlin.

Carmen and the others were right. We could make it work. We could make anything work. Devlin had just made one of my dreams come true. I was going to spend the rest of my life making his a reality.

The moment I left the museum, I whipped out my cell phone and called Devlin. No response. The phone just kept ringing and ringing. I called his office, his cell phone, his home out in the bay. The last line had been disconnected, but none of the other numbers worked either. Try to tell a guy you love him, and he drops off the face of the earth.

Discouraged and frustrated, I went back home. Grace and Bobby were in the living room, watching television. For once, they weren’t kissing, just cuddling together. I plopped down on the love seat across from them and looked at Grace.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“Who?” she replied, a smile curving her lips.

“Devlin. I need to talk to him. Now.”

Grace waved her hand. “Oh, he’s around somewhere.”

“Listen up, lady. I’m in love with your grandson. Totally, completely, madly in love. I plan on telling him this as soon as possible. So you’d better tell me where he is right now. Or else I’m going to knock you into next week, even if you are a superhero. Are we clear?”

Grace looked at me, then Bobby. “Well, it’s about time you came to your senses. Devlin has been worrying about you for two weeks now. Change the channel to SNN, Bobby.”

“Where is he?” I asked, growing impatient with the older woman.

She pointed at the screen. “Just watch. He should be on in a few minutes.”

I looked at Grace, then the television. What would Devlin be doing on SNN? The only thing the television station covered was superheroes—

The anchor was prattling on about the latest ubervillain video game releases. Suddenly, his words became clipped and hurried.

“Now, we go out to our reporter Kelly Caleb with a breaking story. Kelly, what’s the situation?”

Kelly smiled into the camera, giving the audience a nice view of her trademark teeth. “Well, Jim, I’m here at the Bigtime Museum of Modern Art, where the board of directors has just made a surprising announcement regarding Debonair, one of the city’s resident superheroes. Debonair, can you tell the audience what this is all about?”

Debonair’s dashing face flashed onto the screen, and my pulse started to pound.

“Well, Kelly, as you know, I’ve been responsible for a string of art thefts in the past. I’m here today to tell you and your loyal viewers I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m no longer going to steal paintings—I’m going to help the museum restore them.”

Debonair went on to describe how he pilfered paintings from people’s homes in an effort to restore them before the works were lost forever. Arthur Anders came on a moment later to tell Kelly how happy the museum was to have someone of Debonair’s background working to preserve these priceless works of art. He kept shooting suspicious looks at Debonair, but Arthur seemed happy enough with the arrangement. The story went on for quite a while, before Kelly had to send it back to the studio to cover Swifte rescuing a turtle from a storm drain over in Paradise Park.

Grace clicked off the television. I fell back against the sofa, stunned.

“I don’t believe it,” I said. “Why did he do that? Why did he agree to work for the museum?”

“Because he loves you and wants to make you happy,” Grace said in a soft voice. “He’s not giving up being Debonair completely. He’s just making himself a little safer. For you. All because of you.”

I looked at Grace and Bobby. Then, I got to my feet and rushed out the door to find Devlin and tell him how much I loved him. How much he meant to me.

I went back to the museum, but he wasn’t there anymore. I cornered Kelly and demanded to know where he was, but she didn’t know. Some cousin she was. Nobody did. I called all his numbers again. I didn’t get an answer, but there was a message waiting for me when I tried his cell phone.

“I’m in our special place. If you love me like I love you, come and find me there. I’ll be waiting. If not, well, I’ll try to understand.”

I hung up the phone in frustration. Our special place? We had lots of special places now. The museum, the bridge, the bench down by the marina. At least, I thought we did. Suddenly, the answer came to me, and I knew where he was.

I went down to the marina, determined to hop on board one of the tourist boats that cruised through the bay on an hourly basis. But there was no one milling around the stands where you bought tickets. I went over and banged on the ticket booth. No one answered. Finally, I spotted a sign on the door that read, CLOSED UNTIL DEC. 1 FOR MAINTENANCE AND REPAIRS.

Well, this wasn’t going to stop me. I was a woman on a mission—one I was going to complete even if I had to hop in the water and swim all the way over to that damn island myself. Of course, I’d be frozen by the time I did that, but a few minutes with Devlin would be more than enough to thaw me out.

I stalked back and forth through the marina, fruitlessly searching for somebody,
anybody
with a boat that could ferry me out to the island where Devlin’s mansion was. But it was cold and rainy, and the marina was deserted, except for the gulls huddling underneath the picnic awnings. I prowled up and down the dock, considering stealing a boat, but then, of course, I didn’t have the keys and wouldn’t be able to start any of the monstrous yachts. I didn’t know anything at all about sailing, so the sailboats were out. I wasn’t dumb enough to try that again.

Just when I was about to call Sam Sloane and demand to use the Fearless Five rescue boat, I spotted a shimmer of color out on the horizon. Bright lights and crazy colors and calypso sounds that could only mean one thing—Cap’n Freebeard and his Saucy Wenches were out on the bay partying, while everyone else was home where it was nice and warm.

“Hey! Hey!” I screamed and jumped up and down, waving my arms. “Over here! Over here!”

My power flared, and I reached for it. It was something I was doing more and more of these days. Something had changed about my power, my luck, ever since I’d been trapped on Prism’s yacht. It wasn’t as much of a jinx anymore. Oh, things still exploded and spontaneously combusted and shattered whenever I was around, but the incidents were fewer and farther between. It was as if I’d lifted the curse off myself by finally giving in to my power and accepting it. I’d even started working with Chief Newman to see if I could fully control it someday.

So, using my luck, I focused on the boat and willed it to turn in my direction. And it did. Ten minutes later, Cap’n Freebeard eased his massive party barge up to the end of the dock where I stood.

“Ahoy there, matey! What can I do for ye on this fine, salty day?” Cap’n growled, squinting even though the sun wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“I need your help, please.”

I explained the situation to Cap’n, telling him that I needed a ride out to Devlin’s house in the middle of the bay.

“Devlin Dash, eh? He’s a fine lad, a fine lad. Come aboard, missy.” Freebeard beamed at me. “And join the fun.”

I wouldn’t say it was fun, but it certainly was something. Freebeard and his Saucy Wenches knew how to have a good time. They boogied and drank and ate seashell-shaped sandwiches nonstop—when they weren’t slathering each other with coconut oil and singing sea shanties. Jimmy Buffett music played in the background. “Lovely Cruise” was the name of the song that kept repeating over and over again, along with “On a Slow Boat to China” and some tune called “Take It Back.”

I stood next to the railing, tried not to get suntan lotion all over my clothes, and avoided staring at all the exposed cleavage around me. Somehow, I managed it.

After about half an hour of steady sailing, we came within sight of Devlin’s mansion and island.

“That’s my stop,” I said to Freebeard.

The dreadlocked captain swung the wheel around. “All right, lass. Here you go.”

He cruised the party barge up to the dock. I hopped off, careful to step on a steady-looking board, and waved back to the captain to tell him that I was okay. He took off his hat, waved it, then whipped the wheel back around. Two minutes later, the party barge was no more than a dot on the horizon. The thing had a powerful motor in it, much more so than it looked.

I turned toward the house. I had to pick my way carefully along the rotten dock, but as soon as my feet touched the grass, I started running. My luck held, and I fell only once. But it didn’t hurt much, and I kept going.

I dashed along the lawn, through the copse of trees, ran up the steps to the house, then sprinted through the silent, dusty halls. I pounded my way back down the stairs to the Lair of Seduction and threw open the door.

Devlin waited inside. There was a table with flowers, champagne, chocolates, and more. But I only had eyes for him. He was wearing his Debonair suit, but his mask was off, exposing his beautiful, beautiful face to me.

“Bella, I—”

That was all he could get out before I swooped down on him and pressed my lips to his. I planted kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, even the tip of his slightly crooked nose.

“I love you,” I said. “I love you, Devlin Debonair Dash, and I want to make this work.”

Devlin’s eyes held mine. “Are you sure, Bella? Are you positive? I know you have a lot of issues regarding superheroes. Even sometimes heroes like me.”

I shook my head. “What you did today with the news conference blew me away. It was more than I could have ever hoped for. I know you’ll never stop being Debonair, and I don’t want you to. But you came halfway, so I can come the other half. I want to be with you, Devlin. If you’ll still have me.”

“Always, Bella. Always.”

We kissed again, and I felt Devlin nudge me back toward the bed. I happily obliged. It had been too long. A day was too long to go without him. An hour, a minute, a single second.

“You’re
my
superhero,” I said as he lowered me to the bed. “And that’s all that matters.”