Their tacit agreement to take turns abandoned in light of that information, several of the reporters attempted to speak at once, their shouted questions a cacophonous jumble, indistinguishable from one another.
"Sorry," I began, shaking my head. "I don't under—"
I heard mumbling behind me, and suddenly their overlapping chatter. subsided long enough for one voice to call out above the others, "Do you know Tempest's real identity then? You two seem rather close, having been seen together on numerous occasions..." He trailed off in a leading, un-reporterly fashion.
I scowled at the insinuation and sought the source of that voice out in the crowd. "Despite what some may claim, I don't know his real identity. The fact that I'm constantly in varying states of peril is, although unfortunate, nothing new, and the only thing I know about Tempest is that he is always at the right place at the right time to prevent my untimely demise. It's rather hard to be 'close' to someone when you don't know their name or their face, and only talk when you're about to die."
I was starting to wish I could hide behind the Constable's long, gray and white cape, but it seemed the gathered press were far more interested in needling responses out of the not-media-trained kidnapping victim than the veteran press conference aficionado who only ever gave away preplanned non-answers. The barrage of questions kept coming.
"What are your thoughts on the supervillain Nightshade taking a bizarre interest in kidnapping you?"
I heard myself sarcastically letting slip, "I'm delighted," before I could think to stop myself. What did they expect me to say? Dumb questions earned dumb answers.
"She's joking, of course," the Constable made sure to say on my behalf, clapping me on the shoulder in a loud display of good-matured camaraderie. "We are doing our very best to ensure her continued safety until we get the Nightshade situation sorted."
A brunette in horn-rimmed glasses pressed forward to be closer to the from of the mass of reporters. "Three weeks is a long time to be trapped alone with one person. Did you really not see Shade's face even once?"
"He always wore a mask," I said stiffly, doing my best to contain my defensiveness, because, if I was honest with myself, I hadn't tried all that hard to unmask him at all. I'd been too busy tossing him down ravines and trying to strangle him, fighting just to survive. I should have tried harder.
She merely nodded, accepting the answer easily. Far more easily than I'd expect from a person whose field of work involved prying for answers, until she surprised me by saying, "That's what his other victim said, too."
"Other victim?" I craned my neck to give the Constable my most puzzled expression. "He kidnapped someone else?"
Instead of answering, he raised a hand to wave them goodbye, indicating the press conference was over, and Ren started pulling me away, up the last two steps towards the courthouse.
"That's enough questions for today," the Constable announced, a note of finality wrapping around his visage.
I managed to shirk off Ren's hold and break from the Guild's retinue, taking the steps down two and three at a time, despite the best efforts of those trying to reign me back in. Finally, I came level with the press line.
"Wait, who else was kidnapped?" I asked the brunette, slightly winded, just as strong fingers wrapped around my upper arms, dragging me back. Up.
A glint of something — intrigue? triumph? – showed in her eyes behind those thick framed glasses. "Atticus Courten, of course."
She said it not in the way you'd mention a nameless grocery clerk, and more in the way one might mention a household name, like a celebrity, a famous CEO, or notorious unsolved true crime victim. She said the name like she instantly expected me to know who she was talking about, and the worst part was that I did, though it took me half a moment longer than it ought have to place it.
"Wait." I blinked hard. By the time I reopened my eyes, my feet had lifted off the ground, Tempest readjusting his hold as he whisked us off to the Guild Headquarters. My surprise dwarfed even my fear of heights. "That's Leigh's brother's name. That's her last name."
"I know," he said simply, his attention fixed elsewhere, on getting us safely to our destination without running into planes or drones no doubt.
I continued as though no interruption had ever happened, not questioning how he would know that. "But he's been gone six years."
"I know," he repeated.
"They only just got around to declaring him legally dead."
"I know that, too." His mouth pulled into a grin below his mask when I pinched him.
"Aren't you going to perhaps add anything to this discussion? If I wanted someone to repeatedly tell me 'I know' I'd try telling Alexia she needs to do her homework."
"What do you want me to say?" he protested.
"Everything."
YOU ARE READING
Super•Villainous
Fantasy"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
