Ex-Cape From The Past Read online

  Ex-Cape from the Past

  Daniel Wentzel

  To Jill, the best plucky sidekick a man ever married.

  And to Liz, who always read the next chapter as though she had super-vision.

  THE CAPES AND THEIR IDENTITIES

  Etherya – Molly Martin

  Major Maximum – David Donaldson

  Hustle – Frank Falco

  The Grim Detective – Charles Christman

  Venusia – No secret identity

  Sharpshot – Simon Smith

  Mystro – Byron Balthazar

  Ladybug – Beth Baxter

  Moondancer – Alicia Adamson

  The Hospitaller – Wulfric Weiss

  Steelstrike – Unknown

  GizmoGadget – Tully Tomkins

  Sprite and Pixie – No secret identities

  Prologue

  Etherya tried not to be insulted when they drew the guns.

  The man with the revolver fired all five shots at her. The one with the automatic stopped at seven. They might as well have been shooting at a ghost. She shifted the molecules of her body until they had un-synced with the rest of the matter in the universe. All twelve bullets passed harmlessly through her, taking no notice of her presence. She barely acknowledged them.

  The man with the automatic decided to try brute force and charged her, wielding his gun like a club. She calmly marched straight through him. The maneuver had disconcerted better fighters than he. Once through to his other side, she solidified and delivered a wicked back-kick. It threw him against the wall of the building next door. She spun and shoved his face into the same wall. He crumpled to the ground, blood running from his broken nose.

  She whirled again to face his partner who stared at his useless pistol. He drew back his hand to throw it at her. He hesitated when faced with the dubious expression on her face. She took advantage of his hesitation to use the same maneuver she’d used against her first super villain.

  She kicked him hard in the crotch.

  The man doubled over in pain, and, after a sidestep to keep him from vomiting on her, she applied a choke hold. She left his unconscious form next to his buddy.

  Hustle waited for her at the corner. At the sight of him, her heart leaped, then broke.

  “Did you call the cops?”

  He patted the pouch on his belt where he kept his phone. “Yep.”

  “Think we should leave a note telling the store owner to put in a better alarm?”

  “I think he’ll get the message.”

  She stared back at the thugs contemplatively. “My farewell performance.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  Her tears dampened the underside of her mask. “Yes. It does.” She held one hand parallel to the ground. It shook uncontrollably.

  Desperate to act before the surprise on his face could change to pity, she brought his head down into a deep kiss. He ruined her dramatic farewell by squeezing her bottom. She laughed through the tears and punched him playfully in the chest.

  He stopped her before she could end the embrace. “You sure they’ll even be open?”

  She broke away and picked up the duffle bag with her wallet, identification, and her change of clothes. “When you have superheroes for clients, you work nights.” She glanced back and regretted doing so. “Goodbye.”

  “You’ll be back, Bright Eyes.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  She marched away with her heart in her throat. Two blocks farther on, she entered a government administration office. It took her only three hours to sign up for the Vigilante Amnesty Act, and Etherya officially ceased to exist.

  Chapter One

  Five Years Later

  Molly had been a city girl most of her life, and nothing reminded her of it like going shopping in Capetown’s most popular grocer, The Friendly Bag Boy. A nine-foot tall, redheaded, pimply-faced caricature of a bag boy waved hello with one hand and held a sack of groceries in the other. Once inside, customers could spot the store’s trademarked representative in a variety of costumes and poses in every corner of the store.

  The people of Capetown loved it. Molly felt like a snob because she didn’t.

  The Bag Boy had marked down the peaches, so chaos reigned in the produce section when Molly went for her favorite lunchtime fruit, the kiwi. The glorious emerald green inside the ruddy brown skin always gave her the impression the kiwis hid a secret identity. She could relate.

  She paid no mind to the slight sound of impact behind her, assuming it to be another customer’s footstep. She didn’t realize the sound originated from a dropped banana until she took a step back, a kiwi in each hand, and her right foot slid from beneath her.

  She collided, not with the ground, but with a wall of muscle. She had a split second to register a burly man had caught her with one arm. She winced as the kiwis, which she had thrown into the air, plummeted straight toward her face.

  The man’s reflexes did not fail him. He snagged a kiwi and tossed it back in the air and then did the same to the other one.

  Good Lord, he’s juggling.

  A few other customers broke into applause. The man blushed, caught both kiwis in one big hand, and helped Molly stand.

  “Impressive.” Molly had never seen him before. Her circle of acquaintances was not large. Even in a town as small as Capetown, she did not know everyone. Still, he would have stood out to her.

  He stood at least six foot five with a barrel chest and broad shoulders barely contained in his Hawaiian shirt. Being right up against his chest had made it clear how much muscle he concealed with his stocky build. When he scanned her to rule out an injury, there was nothing untoward in his scrutiny, and she found herself struck by his warm brown eyes.

  “When you slipped on a banana peel, I figured I should break out the vaudeville act.”

  Molly chuckled as she knelt down and lifted the crushed banana. It went into a trash bin where shoppers discarded corn husks. “Where’d you learn to juggle?”

  He handed her back her kiwis. “I quit smoking back in college. I needed something to do with my hands.”

  “Sounds like you quitting smoking saved both our lives.” She put the kiwis in her cart and stuck out her hand. “Molly Martin.”

  “Sean Cedar.” His enormous hand engulfed hers.

  “Thank you, Sean. Can I repay you somehow?”

  His mouth opened, but no sound came out for an instant. “Um, I’m new in town. Where’s the best place for pizza delivery?”

  Molly grinned. This, she could help with. “For delivery, you want Four Brothers on Siegel Road. If you’ve got time for takeout, try Marconi’s over a few blocks.” She paused. “Assuming, of course, you don’t want a thick crust.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “You’ve given this considerable research.”

  “I am a woman of many talents. Cooking does not count as one of them. I can make four things in this whole store that doesn't come in a box or a can.”

  “Boxes and cans?” He shook his head. “Already out of my league.”

  Molly laughed, fighting to keep it from becoming a nervous giggle. It had been ages since she’d been flirted with. Her heart rate had increased, and butterflies filled her belly. Physically, he didn’t match her type, but given her last relationship had been not months, but years ago, could she even claim to have a type?

  Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” erupted from his cargo shorts. He peeked at his phone. “Darn, I have to take this.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.” Molly waved, happy to have a chance to chicken out. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so.” He smiled before pressing a button and responding. “What’s up, Kim?”

  Kim? Never mind then.

  ✽✽✽

  Molly tucked the rented DVDs from the machine under her arm as she unlocked the door. She looked forward to the mind-numbing comedies. In her left hand, she had two bags of groceries and a third filled with Chinese food from the Jade Panda.

  This early in the school year she needed to be grateful to get any substitute work, but kindergarteners wearied her. Other people could feed off the energy of the children and respond in kind. Not Molly. Then she’d faced the confusion of the not-flirting at the grocery store. It had all left her exhausted.

  Her answering machine blinked, and she pushed the button to listen.

  “Hey, Bright Eyes. Give me a call.”

  Molly dropped the bags, and white rice spilled onto her linoleum. Only one man in the world called her “Bright Eyes.” She found the handset in her hand without conscious thought. She still remembered his number by heart.

  “Frank?”

  “Hello, stranger.”

  “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  “Whoa. Molly, relax. Everything’s fine. I hoped you’d be free tomorrow.”

  “Free?”

  “For lunch. Dinner would be fine too, but the earlier, the better.”

  Molly couldn’t speak with her mouth suddenly dry. “I…yes. I have no plans.”

  “Great. Do you know Daisy’s on the main highway? Meet you there at noon. Gotta run for now.”

  Molly stared at the receiver willing it to provide more information. What did he need to see her about? Five years had passed since she’d seen him, since she’d seen any of them. Would she go? Should she?

  And what, pray tell, would she wear?

  ✽✽✽

  “What do you think?” Molly studied the dress in the mirror
. She’d gained a considerable amount of weight in five years. Not having to chase down purse snatchers or run from the occasional thirty-foot scorpion left her well over her fighting trim.

  Heather pursed her lips, her eyes never leaving the blue dress. “I’m guessing this guy’s an ex-boyfriend.”

  Molly started. Her complexion went white in the mirror. She couldn’t quite tie down Frank with terms like “boyfriend,” but she couldn’t deny being familiar with the taste of his lips. “What-” she stammered, “gave you that impression?”

  “I get one of two messages from that dress. Either ‘Take a gander at what you never should have dumped, fella’ or ‘Hey, I’m still hot. Wanna get back together?’”

  “That’s what this dress says?”

  “In three different languages.”

  “Then I definitely need to change.”

  Heather cocked her head. “You sure?”

  Molly amazed herself by going from white to blushing in an instant. She returned to the changing room and reached for the zipper at her back. “It’s complicated.”

  “’Complicated’ describes everything about your pre-Capetown life. You never say anything else.” Heather sighed. “Am I at least right he’s an ex?”

  Molly slipped off the dress. “We…fooled around a little.”

  “I see, and you hope to reinstate said fooling?”

  Molly heard the grin in Heather’s voice. As her best friend, some good-natured ribbing regarding Molly’s love life fell within her rights. “I’m not even sure he asked me on a date. We used to be kind of…coworkers. He might want to talk to me about work.”

  “How can you be ‘kind of’ coworkers?”

  “Let’s say we worked in the same field.”

  After a brief pause, Heather mostly hid the resentment in her voice. “I don’t suppose you’d let me know what field?”

  Molly stopped redressing. She opened the door of the changing room and stuck her head out. “Heather…”

  “Did you piss off the mob? Are you in the witness protection program? Right now I wouldn’t be surprised if you used to make your living as a stripper.”

  Your second guess was closest. “Heather, I’m not trying to shut you out here. I’d just be telling you the tale of a stupid kid who did a lot of stupid things. Most of the stories make me come across as ridiculous. I’ve lived my other life, and I’m trying to put it behind me.”

  “Except for Frank.”

  Molly blushed again. “Frank’s a special case. When I needed a friend, I could rely on him.”

  Heather grinned. “You should have said. I have exactly the dress for a ‘special case.’ Wait here.”

  In under a minute she returned and handed two flowery dresses to Molly. “Try the eight first. It could be tight around your waist, but I don’t think in a bad way. If you find it too tight, try the ten.”

  Molly obeyed. The size eight was sleek without being slinky and somehow made the extra pounds look like she couldn’t possibly have done without them. Molly came out of the changing room with a huge smile. “What does this one say?”

  Heather eyed her professionally. “This one says ‘I’m ready for anything, buster. The ball’s in your court.’”

  “I owe you.”

  “You certainly do. Sixty dollars plus tax.”

  Molly hugged her friend and handed her the credit card. She reminded herself how lucky she’d been when she found Heather in Capetown. Maybe someday she’d let her friend know what kind of night life she used to live. Maybe.

  ✽✽✽

  Heather’s parting instructions had been clear. “Sweetie, I know what shoes you own, and none of them go with this dress. You don’t need anything fancy. Get a nice pair of white sandals, preferably something with a heel.” The last had been pointed. Heather constantly suggested Molly should wear heels, insisting her friend had great legs for such a short woman

  Molly never wore heels out of habit. Dressing as a superhero required wearing comfortable shoes. She’d met a few capes who hadn’t followed that rule. All of them had sprained their ankles at one point.

  She pointed her car toward the mall. On her way, Molly considered taking a pair of sneakers to the date. With Frank, she couldn’t know where she’d need to be at a moment’s notice.

  Her stomach dropped. Did he want her to come out of retirement? Would Frank be asking for the services of Etherya? If so, she probably shouldn’t even go.

  Not that she’d agree to it. That life was behind her. She’d be kind but firm. She’d stare into those sweet blue eyes…

  …and cave.

  She could deny it all she wanted. She owed him too much to reject Frank Falco if he needed her. Molly smiled. As much as becoming Etherya again terrified her, she cherished knowing she had someone in her life worth returning for.

  On the other hand, Frank might assume he needed a superhero who could ghost through solid walls when he could accomplish the same thing with a good lock pick. She’d do best not to anticipate anything.

  Maybe Frank wished to retire himself. Maybe he planned to confess the life of a costumed superhero offered him no fulfillment anymore, and he would give up that life to settle down and find a good woman to be his wife.

  Molly snorted as she parked. It might be possible for Frank to give up being a cape, but certainly not being a bachelor. Frank could stare down any mad scientist with a freeze-ray, but a woman seeking commitment sent him fleeing for cover.

  She entered the mall and inhaled the scent of teenagers. On this Friday night, they’d come out in force. She wound her way past the pretzel booth — firmly reminding herself she had Chinese food she could reheat at home — and headed to the shoe store.

  “Miss Martin?” A young woman waved her down.

  Molly’s mind went into overdrive until she solved the puzzle. She hadn’t initially been able to place the girl because of some essential missing props. Who could recognize Brianna Duncan without the ever-present tray of cupcakes? The girl had decided to open a bakery when she grew up, and she forever approached her friends and teachers with her latest creations. She signaled the death knell to all faculty diets.

  Also, Molly rarely spotted Brianna without an ear bud sticking from her ear, at least without having to tell her to remove it four or five times. Bri’s life required a soundtrack.

  Molly met the girl halfway across the court, noticing Bri carried a small clipboard. “Hi, Bri. What’s up?”

  “I work here, Miss Martin. My boss wants to get some market research into what people need in a phone. Would you have a few moments to take a survey? If I can get thirty people this afternoon, I can get a new phone. Mine needs an update.”

  “All right.” Bri lived in Molly’s development. It made sense to keep the peace.

  “Great, thanks. Let’s see. First, I’m supposed to ask your… age.” Bri winced.

  Molly read the multiple-choice question upside down on the clipboard. “Between thirty and thirty-nine.”

  Bri wasted no time continuing to the next question. Molly kept replying as the questions went from standard demographic inquiries to general questions regarding how she used her current phone.

  “Okay. Thank you, Miss Martin.” Bri had stuck the pen back into the holder on the board when a reedy-voiced man appeared at her elbow.

  “Everything all right, Brianna?”

  “Oh, Miss Martin, meet my boss, Mr. Williams.”

  Mr. Williams smiled avuncularly at Bri and held out his hand to shake Molly’s. He stood half a head taller than her, and he’d shaved his head. For a moment, Molly found herself struck by his familiar eyes. He reminded her of someone, maybe an old science teacher?

  “Thank you for taking the survey, ma’am. Bri’s a solid worker, and I’m glad to have her on my team.” He produced a package from the inner pocket of his blazer. “Here, for taking the survey, we’d like you to have this.”

  She appraised the small flashlight meant to be clipped to her key chain. Several tiny screwdriver attachments folded out from it — not exactly hitting the jackpot.

  “Thank you.” Molly ripped off the cardboard packaging, clipped the gift to her keys, and dropped them into her purse. “See you later, Bri.”

  The shoe store mocked her. The sandals she liked did not come in her size. The sandals she could live with did not come in white. The uncomfortable, unwieldy, and unattractive varieties could be found in all sizes, and at least four different manufacturers offered the exact same shoe. She settled on a pair a half size too big that didn’t make her skin crawl.