silence to appease Mrs. Log, keeping her voice low. She seems eager for my opinion all of a sudden.
I shrug. “Decent.”
She doesn’t have her glasses on, on account of having just been wearing the goggles, but even without their magnification, I can see how much her eyes light up. “Decent.” She repeats the word to herself, as if it was a precious gift I’d just handed her and told her never to let anything happen to.
“As for the twenty bucks,” I say, getting back to business, “since it was your first offense, how about you buy me lunch and we call it even?”
“Wow.” I drag my feet down the aisles at Helen’s antique shop downtown, unable to stop gaping at her collection. Not everything here is actually an antique, but it’s all superhero and supervillain related.
A proud smile creeps across Gordon’s face as he gives me the tour. Which you’d think wouldn’t take very long, since the shop isn’t that big, except that I have to stop at every item and gawk for five minutes; I can’t believe the stuff she’s got.
I point to a recliner in the corner. It’s made of purple leather and has a chunk of one of the arm’s missing. The price tag on it is, like everything here, disgustingly more than I could ever afford. “That’s Professor Doomsworth’s chair! He wouldn’t leave it for a month before he died. He was a little, you know …” I spin my finger next to my head, indicating he was crazy. “Oh, and that’s the spot where Gregorio the Necromanticore blasted Doomsworth’s hand off, and that’s—”
“Yes, Damien,” Gordon says, setting a hand on my shoulder and steering me on to the next one. “We know.”
I only get excited about the supervillain stuff and don’t really know anything about the hero artifacts, but Gordon seems to enjoy showing off the store to me anyway. We pass half a broken magician’s wand, the black kind with the white tip, and I’m like, “Is that … is that—”
“Part of it,” Gordon says. “Come on. The best is in the back.”
“And that’s the shooter the Marbler choked on. Mom says she was at the game when it happened, but she was a little kid at the time.”
Gordon winces when I mention Mom and picks up the pace, leading me around the L shape of the store and into the back section.
I drool at the sight of even more cool stuff. “And over there, that’s—”
“Damien.” Gordon taps me on the shoulder to get my attention and points to a ring under a glass case.
I recognize it immediately and press my hands and face against the glass, unable to resist getting as close as possible. Alarms blare and red lights flare overhead as soon as I do. A camera flashes, practically blinding me.
“Get back!” Gordon shouts. He jerks me away from it just as Helen hurries over to us. I’d say she ran, but it’s not what I would call running, what with her limp and all.
I’m still seeing spots from the flash, but I notice a little panel open up beneath the case, revealing a nozzle that sprays out some weird mist. Gordon pulls me back farther and warns me not to breathe it in. He sounds ashamed when he says, “It’s, um, a supervillain deterrent. Puts them to sleep.” He scratches the side of his head. “Since you’re half villain, you might be susceptible.”
Helen pushes a series of buttons on a keypad on the wall. The little panel closes, and the alarm stops blaring. “Sorry about that,” she says, but I can tell she’s proud her security system would have stopped me.
“That’s the ring,” I say, forgetting to cover my mouth and nose against the mist. It’s a gold ring with a ruby in the middle. It has BB+CM engraved on it. Bart the Blacksmith and his wife, Cissy Miles. I know all about it, and not just because the man was a legend but because he was Kat’s grandfather. He had the power to imbue the metals he forged with special abilities. He was notorious for making chains that could bind superheroes’—or
I shrug. “Decent.”
She doesn’t have her glasses on, on account of having just been wearing the goggles, but even without their magnification, I can see how much her eyes light up. “Decent.” She repeats the word to herself, as if it was a precious gift I’d just handed her and told her never to let anything happen to.
“As for the twenty bucks,” I say, getting back to business, “since it was your first offense, how about you buy me lunch and we call it even?”
“Wow.” I drag my feet down the aisles at Helen’s antique shop downtown, unable to stop gaping at her collection. Not everything here is actually an antique, but it’s all superhero and supervillain related.
A proud smile creeps across Gordon’s face as he gives me the tour. Which you’d think wouldn’t take very long, since the shop isn’t that big, except that I have to stop at every item and gawk for five minutes; I can’t believe the stuff she’s got.
I point to a recliner in the corner. It’s made of purple leather and has a chunk of one of the arm’s missing. The price tag on it is, like everything here, disgustingly more than I could ever afford. “That’s Professor Doomsworth’s chair! He wouldn’t leave it for a month before he died. He was a little, you know …” I spin my finger next to my head, indicating he was crazy. “Oh, and that’s the spot where Gregorio the Necromanticore blasted Doomsworth’s hand off, and that’s—”
“Yes, Damien,” Gordon says, setting a hand on my shoulder and steering me on to the next one. “We know.”
I only get excited about the supervillain stuff and don’t really know anything about the hero artifacts, but Gordon seems to enjoy showing off the store to me anyway. We pass half a broken magician’s wand, the black kind with the white tip, and I’m like, “Is that … is that—”
“Part of it,” Gordon says. “Come on. The best is in the back.”
“And that’s the shooter the Marbler choked on. Mom says she was at the game when it happened, but she was a little kid at the time.”
Gordon winces when I mention Mom and picks up the pace, leading me around the L shape of the store and into the back section.
I drool at the sight of even more cool stuff. “And over there, that’s—”
“Damien.” Gordon taps me on the shoulder to get my attention and points to a ring under a glass case.
I recognize it immediately and press my hands and face against the glass, unable to resist getting as close as possible. Alarms blare and red lights flare overhead as soon as I do. A camera flashes, practically blinding me.
“Get back!” Gordon shouts. He jerks me away from it just as Helen hurries over to us. I’d say she ran, but it’s not what I would call running, what with her limp and all.
I’m still seeing spots from the flash, but I notice a little panel open up beneath the case, revealing a nozzle that sprays out some weird mist. Gordon pulls me back farther and warns me not to breathe it in. He sounds ashamed when he says, “It’s, um, a supervillain deterrent. Puts them to sleep.” He scratches the side of his head. “Since you’re half villain, you might be susceptible.”
Helen pushes a series of buttons on a keypad on the wall. The little panel closes, and the alarm stops blaring. “Sorry about that,” she says, but I can tell she’s proud her security system would have stopped me.
“That’s the ring,” I say, forgetting to cover my mouth and nose against the mist. It’s a gold ring with a ruby in the middle. It has BB+CM engraved on it. Bart the Blacksmith and his wife, Cissy Miles. I know all about it, and not just because the man was a legend but because he was Kat’s grandfather. He had the power to imbue the metals he forged with special abilities. He was notorious for making chains that could bind superheroes’—or
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