Torrent crouched low in the shadow of the elm, then sprang up to grasp the tree's lowest bough with his outstretched hands, hoisting himself up. He dropped back to the turf and repeated this exercise until his breaths came heavy and the cold and weakness were shaken from his limbs. Tomorrow was already the first of May, but the night air was still enervatingly damp. Worse, his sinuses burned and his throat felt dry and inflamed; undoubtedly, his sister's cold was finally catching up with him. If it had been any other night, he would have stayed home and gone to bed early, but this rendezvous was too important to break.
"Good! You're still here."
Torrent jumped in surprise and spun around to see Alex coasting down the hillside. He parked his bike and backpack at the foot of the tree and started pulling out his gear. "I thought I was going to be late."
Torrent let out a sigh of relief that he wasn't being attacked, but he wasn't exactly happy. "I thought you weren't coming. What about your date?" 'And what about mine?' he thought.
Alex made a gagging expression as he clipped on his boxing helmet. "That broad was boring as hell, and stuck-up to boot, though I'll be damned if she's got any reason for it. I had to get out of there for her own good. Where's Evangeline?"
"She's not here yet."
"Are you sure she's going to come? I have my doubts."
"She said she would," Torrent said curtly.
"Okay." Alex stood up and looked at Torrent quizzically. "Was I not supposed to come?"
"Why wouldn't you come? I just didn't expect you."
"You just seem a little pissed, like I'm barging in on a date or something."
"What? Don't be ridiculous," Torrent snorted. "A date's a date. This is a patrol. We're patrolling."
"Okay. Because if you were—"
"Oh Hell, aren't we crime-fighters? We're patrolling. Now shut up about it!"
Alex walked away, finished tying his long red scarf over the bottom half of his face. "What's eating you?"
"Stupid questions," Torrent grumbled. He crossed his arms and turned to face the woods. "Nothing. I don't feel well."
"You should have stayed home, man. But then you would have missed your date."
"Fuck off!" Torrent whipped a broken branch at Alex, but it went spinning over his head and crashed noisily into the brush.
"Hello?" a hushed, feminine voice called out. Someone was creeping through the brush toward them, walking a bike with flashing LEDs on the spokes. Torrent turned his flashlight on her, then let out an involuntary whistle.
"Holy cow," Alex muttered.
Evangeline Garver walked up to within a few paces of the gawking teens. She turned with a flourish, grinning. "Ta-daa."
She wore a snug, pink leotard decorated with glittering tongues of red and orange flame that ran all along the trim from her sleeveless shoulders to her bicycle shorts. She had gloves and boots to match, laced up with red paracord and orange aglets. Her wavy hair was braided into a long ponytail tied with glowing orange bands. A mask of thin cloth decorated with the same flame motif covered her face from her forehead to the bridge of her nose.
"Where did you buy that?" asked Alex. Out of a sense of propriety and loyalty to Sebastian, he made sure not to let his eyes linger on her curves for too long.
"Do you like it? I made it myself. Well, put it together is more like it."
"In one day?" asked Torrent. Propriety be damned; he stared at the curve of her rump and the creamy skin of her exposed legs.
Eva giggled nervously and started to blush. "Actually, I'd been working on it for a while. I never thought I'd really go out and use my talent like this, but I thought about it a lot — what my outfit would look like, what I'd call myself. One day, I just decided to work on a costume for fun. And here it is." She let out a deep breath like she'd bottled that story up for a long time. If either of the boys thought it was weird, neither said so.
"Could you make a costume for me?" Alex asked.
"Uh, I guess I can try. It's not like I made this from scratch. I just cut out the patterns and glued them on, and I used a little fabric paint. I can't figure out how to sew spandex."
"Like I'd ever wear spandex," Alex scoffed.
Eva laid a finger on her lip as she examined his plain black T-shirt. "What did you have in mind for your design? A big, white X, maybe?"
"Nah, I already got one of those. But I'm not The Mysterious X anymore. From now on, I go by Kid Awesome."
Beneath his goggles, Sebastian rolled his eyes. Alex had obviously taken SLAM's criticism harder than he'd let on. "You could always write that on your shirt."
Alex scowled at him. "Maybe I will."
Torrent turned to Corona. "You look amazing. What are you going to call yourself?"
Evangeline put her hands on her hips and struck a pose. "What do you say to Corona?"
Torrent grinned from ear to ear. "I'd say it's a hell of a lot better than Kid Awesome."
~*~
"So, Corona..." Torrent flashed her a smile. He loved the name. It was better than what he'd expected her to come up with, and much better than any of the trite crap he'd thought of. He also loved the way she looked in her tights, especially when her bike bounced over uneven pavement. Most of all, he loved the thought of going out with a superheroine. The mask, the secret identity, the hair-raising nocturnal escapades, it was all intensely erotic; the fact that he already knew who she was and that they hadn't done anything exciting didn't matter a damn. Tonight, he was all hormones. He felt just like he did that night with Cascade, only without the annoyance of a guilty conscience.
Corona looked over at him and waited for him to continue. He didn't say anything, just kept eying her with that impish grin. She gave back a wry smile of her own, amused by his expression. "Soooo, Torrent," she said. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh, I was just wondering if you were cold in those shorts," he said.
She laughed, shook her head slowly. "No. No, I almost never get cold, unless I'm sick. It's actually the heat I have a harder time dealing with."
"I'm freezing," he said.
"Are you?" She glanced over at him, narrowing her eyelids. "Well, why don't we pull over? I've got plenty of warmth to go around."
"Follow me." Torrent led her to a silent, tree-darkened side street in Oakland, finally stopping at an empty carport where he parked his bike against a high wooden fence. Flanked by the windowless sides of two apartment buildings and recessed from the street, they'd be out of sight and earshot of any insomniac passersby. And as long as Alex kept his promise to keep his distance, they'd be uninterrupted.
He beckoned her with a gloved finger. "Come over here, Corona."
Evangeline peered at him coyly through her eyelashes as she took his hand. "Poor baby," she whispered as she peeled off his glove and gently massaged his fingers. Soothing heat radiated off her in waves.
"Oh, that's amazing," he whispered. He lifted his hand, touched the back of it to her cheek. Eva nuzzled him, her eyelids fluttering shut.
"You're amazing," she said. "It was awful not talking to you everyday. I felt so alone. The things you said at the forum — in my head, it was like you were rejecting me."
Torrent wrapped his other arm around her back and pulled her close. "Never," he whispered.
"And now you bring me out here. I feel so stupid for having been mad at you. I never thought I'd get to do this. I never even realized how much I wanted to."
"To kiss me?"
She threw her head back and laughed joyfully. "To be a superhero!"
"Ahh, of course."
"Being out here with you, defying my dad, wearing the costume, it makes me feel very..." She shivered, a thrill of excitement. "Mmm."
"Mmm?"
"Mmm," she confirmed.
He looked down at her, held her eyes. "What does 'mmm' mean?"
"Why don't you guess?"
Sebastian crushed her against his chest, lifting her onto her tip-toes as he kissed her.
"Hey, you're pushy," she teased. She smiled drunkenly as she snuggled against him.
"You'll get used to it," he said. A second later, his right hand glided over her butt and grabbed hold.
"Hey! That's too far!" She jerked away, but he pulled her back and licked her lips. "Seriously, Sebastian!" Naturally, he ignored her. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her. Eventually, she wiggled her left arm free and clocked him.
"Ow!" Torrent readjusted his goggles and rubbed the side of his head.
"I warned you," Corona replied. Her tone was angry, but her expression didn't match it; she was was trying too hard not to smile. "Maybe that's how girls act in Pennsylvania, but we Heartland ladies aren't so loose."
Torrent smirked. "Seemed like you enjoyed it."
"That's not—"
Suddenly, a wild shouting resounded from the street, followed by a clash of metal and shattering glass. A chorus of voices were shouting what Torrent recognized as Spanish, but with the lazy enunciation and sleazy gutter rhythm of the Caribbean mestizo. "Volando!" "En marcha!"
"What's this racket?" Torrent muttered. He stepped off toward the street, pulling his glove back on and unholstering his stun baton.
Corona almost warned him to be careful, but stopped herself. It seemed absurd to say something like that to a superhero. Anxiously, she followed.
Torrent was so taken aback by the scene on the street that he actually did a double take. Only a few minutes ago, the area was entirely deserted, but now, there were no less than ten men — it was hard to be precise with the way they bounced around — vaulting off awnings and the hoods of parked cars. They wore hooded sweatshirts painted with a skeletal ribcage and their faces were covered with skull masks. Most of their outfits looked no better than what you'd find in cheap Halloween costume shops, though a few of them were quite elaborate and colorful, the sort the Mexicans wear for All Souls Day. They were beating on cars with pipes and baseball bats. The storefront window of the corner deli had already been smashed.
"Oh my gosh," Corona whispered.
Torrent put his hand on her shoulder. "You'll be alright. Just do what comes naturally."
"Naturally. Right."
Torrent tapped his goggles to turn on the camera. A flick of his wrist activated his two-way radio. "Come in Black, this is Blue."
Kid Awesome's voice came back over a crackle of static. "Black here. You done playing doctor yet?"
"Get over to the corner of Ward and Cato quick," Torrent said. "There's a riot... or something."
"Roger that."
Three of the skeletal vandals were muscling up a planter box from the street, likely intending to put it through the second window. Another had a lighter in his hand, cursing as he struggled to set the deli's awning ablaze.
Torrent turned to Corona. "You don't speak Spanish, right?"
"No."
"Good." What he was about to say wasn't fit for a lady's ears.
Torrent's voice boomed through the empty street. His diction was precise, even scholarly; King Alfonso's own Spanish. "Hey! What do you think you're doing, you motherless, bean-eating degenerates?"
The vandals stopped all at once and stared at him. The wooden planter dropped and the lighter went out.
"I said: what do you spiggity cockroaches think you're doing here? Does this smell like the barrio?"
"What did you say to them?" Corona asked.
Torrent smiled. "I'm inviting them to discuss their grievances in a culturally sensitive manner."
Corona was not amused. "Did you notice there's ten of them?"
The hoodlums hastily exchanged some words, then strode toward the two vigilantes. The skeletons fanned out as they approached, as if to encircle them. One of them, presumably their leader, taunted them in English.
"I think you're in the wrong neighborhood, gabacho. You're gonna be real sorry you came here when you're picking your teeth out of your shit tomorrow morning. But maybe your girlfriend will like what I got for her. Los Esqueletos Voladores will put that putona through her paces." He grabbed at his crotch as his gang hooted and jeered.
He waved Corona over. "Come on over, baby. I got something for your mouth."
"Sebastian, please..." Corona's voice was a high-strung whisper. She tugged on his sleeve, and her shoes scuffed the pavement noisily as she retreated a few steps. The poor girl had probably never been spoken to like that in her life.
If someone had said such a thing at school or in any other context where he wasn't wearing a mask, Sebastian would have gone right for their throat. But in the guise of Torrent, such talk seemed banal. He'd heard that kind of language so often (albeit usually about his mother) that he barely noticed it now. It was street thug boilerplate.
"You should be more concerned with what's going in your mouth," Torrent shot back, kicking the curb of the sidewalk suggestively.
A stumpy-looking Esqueleto pushed to the front of the semi-circle and leered at Torrent. The goon's paint-covered eyelids receded into his skull as his eyes bulged in recognition. "It's him! The cocksucker who jumped me at the garage!"
Torrent couldn't see the man's face behind all the makeup, but he recognized the voice. "Not the troll from the chop shop?" He waved his right arm, and a stream of vinegar leaped across the gap. A dark, wet spot spread across the runt's crotch. "There, now I recognize you."
"Que chingados..." Before the thug could finish, the stream curved up and blasted him in the eyes. He swore and stumbled backwards, knocking down a couple of his friends in the process.
"Gut him!" someone yelled. One of the Esqueletos hurled himself at Torrent. He was short and blocky with a neon green, glow-in-the-dark rib cage on his sweatshirt. He swung a black-gloved fist covered in stainless steel spikes at Torrent's face, missing his nose by a hair.
Torrent jumped back, pushing Corona out of the way with one hand while his other extended the stun baton. He turned his shoulder into the next punch before his opponent could fully uncoil. The blow was jarring, and Torrent hissed in pain as the spikes bit into his skin, but it left the Esqueleto wide open. Torrent jammed the baton into the thug's armpit and watched him spasm, spit spraying through his clenched teeth, before finally collapsing onto the sidewalk.
"Watch out!" Corona shouted.
Torrent looked up just in time to see one of the other hoodlums lash out clumsily with a switchblade. Torrent was annoyed that Corona hadn't just fried the guy, but he needed to focus on not getting sliced up. Luckily, his adversary was less adept with a blade than the hooker had been the other night. Once he'd put enough distance between them, Torrent emptied the whole bladder of vinegar into his face. A thrust to the ribs with the baton put him down for good.
If the others would have rushed him right now, Torrent had little doubt that, superpowers or not, he and Corona would have gotten their clocks cleaned. But with three of their squad already down, the gang hesitated. Instead of conquering as Los Esqueletos Voladores, each was too worried about getting pounded as an individual. It was just like Sebastian's grandfather taught him: fear was the best force-multiplier.
'Then again, superpowers are a pretty good force-multiplier, too,' Torrent thought as he backed into a fire hydrant.
The thugs cautiously advanced as he drew back. Torrent stepped behind the hydrant, eyeballing their alignment with the nozzle. "Come on, you pussies!"
The biggest one of the bunch, a bloated goliath brandishing a metal pipe, happily obliged. He took one swing and then went howling to the ground as the hydrant's cast-iron valve cap and a high-pressure stream of water blasted into his stomach. Before any of his friends knew what happened, the water twisted in mid-air and lashed back at them.
"Brujos!" they cried.
Torrent grimaced as he struggled to keep control; already, he felt the roaring geyser slipping from his psychic grasp. "Give me some steam, Corona!"
She threw out her arms, making a little box with her thumbs and forefingers to focus on the water, and then did what came naturally. The stream flash-boiled into a dense, scalding cloud. The screams of the thugs rent the night air and Torrent tumbled backwards, coughing.
"Torrent!" She ran toward him, letting off on her thermokinesis. "I'm sorry! I-I..."
He pulled off his fogged goggles and rubbed his eyes. "Never mind," he barked. "Worry about them!"
But most of their enemies had already routed. Only the gang's leader and the one Torrent had plowed with the hydrant cap remained, the latter was still groaning senselessly into the pavement.
"You think I'm afraid of you,calderadas?" raged the leader. He tore off his mask, revealing skin that was red and already puckering with blisters from the steam burn. His next movement tore a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at Torrent's chest.
Corona screamed and let out a blast of intense heat focused on the gunman's outstretched arm. Fabric ignited, skin sizzled, and the barrel of the pistol glowed faintly. He threw the gun away, howling in pain as Torrent tackled him.
The pair hit the wet pavement with a splash, rolling and thrashing their limbs. One fought for dominance, the other for escape. Torrent's fists smashed into his enemy's face, his ribs, his kidneys. The Esqueleto raked Torrent's cheek with his fingernails and gouged at his eyes.
Corona, meanwhile, dashed for the gun. A big hand caught her leg, and she yelped sharply as she hit the ground. The fat Esqueleto pushed himself off the ground with one hand and reached for his pipe with the other. He never saw the man running up behind him.
The bloated gangster collapsed again and rolled over, gasping from a kick to the ribs. A hand in fingerless leather gloves darted out to seize him by the collar, yanking him up into the path of a fist. Once, twice, thrice the fist collided with his face, until his head lolled over to one side, blood spilling out from underneath the shattered skull mask. Corona's stomach recoiled at the gruesome spectacle.
"Need any help over there?" Kid Awesome called out. He still held his grip on the fat hoodlum, his right arm coiled back, ready for another blow.
The leader of the thugs offered a hoarse gasp as Torrent's knee rocketed up into his testicles. He ceased thrashing immediately and curled into a ball.
"Nope." Torrent stood up, panting. "I'm good."
Corona ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. "Are you hurt? When he pulled out the gun—" She didn't bother to finish. She bounced up and down, high on adrenaline and conflicting emotions.
Kid Awesome loosened his grip, letting his unconscious opponent slump into the widening puddle of filthy water. "Who are these assholes?"
"You mean you haven't heard of The Flying Skeletons?" Torrent mocked. He gestured to the leader, said, "That one is the Volando Esqueleto, and uh, well, that one must be Rotundo Esqueleto. Heh."
"Yeah? More like the Pinatas," quipped Alex. "Pussies."
"Thanks Al, er, Awesome X," Corona said. "I thought he was going to clobber me. I don't know what I would have done."
"Oh sure, thank him when he shows up after the fight is over," said Torrent.
"What am I, your chaperon? I came as fast I could. Oh, and point of order, two creeps don't make a riot, even if they're wearing masks." He inclined his head significantly toward the fire hydrant. "Looks like you did most of the damage anyway."
"There's only two of them because we scared off the other eight," Torrent said. "The fire hydrant couldn't be helped."
Kid Awesome snorted. "Pshaw. Peddle your fish tales somewhere else."
The three vigilantes froze. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance.
Torrent dropped to his knees, tore open a velcro flap and fumbled with a bundle of zip-ties. "Quick, help me tie up these shitbirds!"
"Forget it!" Kid Awesome said, grabbing him by the arm. "Let's get out of here before anyone sees us. You remember what happened last time."
Corona looked at her fellow vigilantes with bewilderment as she sprinted along beside them. "Don't we have to tell the police what happened?"
Kid Awesome let out a loud guffaw.
"Oh, that's adorable," Torrent said, taking her by the elbow and hurrying her along.
After they recovered their bicycles, the trio shot off down an unlit alleyway, their electric motors pushed to the limit. It was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, and they dared not risk detection by turning on their lights. As the narrow channel of crumbling concrete and stained, ivy-covered brick walls gave way to thick brush and whipping leaves, the pavement turned to a bone-rattling trail of ruts, washouts, and half-exposed rocks. It was a hair-raising experience, like a roller coaster in the dark.
Torrent, who was in the lead, yelled without taking his eyes off the road. "Trust me, I know where we're going."
"I'm relieved." Corona's voice reverberated through her clenched and chattering teeth. Torrent's bicycle slowed considerably, and Eva's already white knuckles had to tighten on the brake levers to keep from colliding with him.
"Kill your motors, you won't need them where we're going," he said. "And take it slow so you don't go flying over the embankment.
"Embankment?" Corona piped in alarm.
"And keep your head down," Kid Awesome added. "Wouldn't want you to get decapitated by a low branch."
"Decapitated?"
Torrent looked back at her with a smirk. "It's all part of the adventure, Corona."
Eventually, the trio navigated the impenetrably dark labyrinth of trees on that precariously steep hill, emerging into the broad valley of the Panther Hollow railroad bed. The noise of the police sirens was all but inaudible beneath the orchestra of crickets and the lonesome windsong of the swaying trees. Here, there were no houses, no lights, and nothing to be seen except for the ribbon of railroad that ran off into the empty night. To the south, it bent until it came to the shores of the Monongahela and passed through the Blight. To the north, perhaps an eighth of a mile from where they now stood, was the battleground where Sebastian and Alex defeated Miasma.
The two boys slapped their hands together and congratulated each other on another rousing victory. Alex also heaped praise on Evangeline for her quick thinking.
"I had my doubts about you, but you've made a believer out of me, Eva. I thought I'd be squeegeeing Torrent's brains off the sidewalk when that asshole pulled his pistol, but you had him dead to rights." He slapped Sebastian on the shoulder. "I don't think this guy realizes how lucky he is."
"So, I guess I owe you my life, huh?" Sebastian said. He had removed his cowl and pushed his goggles up into his hair, and now he eyed her the way a wolf would a sheep. Evangeline turned away timidly from his gaze. He stepped toward her, and she in turn shrank back, only to be seized roughly around the waist and thrown against him. He kissed her violently. Eva's already bruised lips throbbed, but she kissed him back just as hard.
"Alright, already! You're embarrassing me!" Alex's complaint went unheeded. "Sheesh," he said, shaking his head and tramping off into the brush. "I'm going to get changed. Watch out for ticks."
"I'll let you undress in private," Sebastian whispered. "Unless you need help."
Evangeline laughed. "No, I don't think so. This requires I put new clothes on after I take these off, but I don't think you're interested in that." She backed away, ducking under a valance of wet leaves. "Go on now, turn around!"
With a reluctant sigh, Sebastian stooped over his bicycle to grab his backpack and then disappeared into the woods.
~*~
Fifteen minutes later, the three heroes, now disguised as normal teenagers, sat at a picnic table on the Squirrel Hill side of Schenley Park. The grassy hilltop was an island of silence overlooking the lights of the city. It was well past midnight, and they were alone, so they spoke freely. Sebastian recounted to Alex the bizarre and sudden onset of the masked gang and the curious detail of how one of them had recognized him.
Alex had been slouching against the edge of the table, but now he sat up straight. "Recognized you?"
"As Torrent."
"Oh," said Alex, relaxing. "Well, sure, from the news, when we busted up the chop shop."
"It was the guy from the chop shop," Sebastian said.
"The hell you say!"
Sebastian psychically pumped a shot of water from his backpack into his mouth. "He had face paint on, but the size and build were right, and I remembered his voice."
"Now that's a hell of a coincidence, isn't it?"
Sebastian shrugged. "Is it a coincidence?"
"I don't understand. Shouldn't he be in jail, or, I don't know, off in penal indenture somewhere?" Eva asked.
"There wouldn't have been a trial yet," Sebastian said. "Last I'd heard, they were still trying to identify the owners of most of the cars. They probably wanted to bring all the charges at once."
"So?" asked Eva. "Wouldn't he still be in jail?"
"Maybe that flies in Deseret, but this is a free country," Alex scoffed. "Sheesh, take off the magic underwear already."
Sebastian smiled. "Pre-trial imprisonment is rare in the Commonwealths, especially in Pennsylvania. It's too expensive."
"Especially if the guy gets acquitted," Alex added.
"You only see it in infamous cases, like murder, and even then, only when the accused is likely to flee," said Sebastian.
"That's crazy! Does anyone ever show up for trial?"
The arrangement seemed so obvious and natural to Sebastian that he was at a loss how to explain all the reasons why skipping trial was unlikely. He could only say, "Unless you're OK with giving up your whole life, you show up. Anyway, it's usually pretty easy for the fyrd to keep an eye on them."
Eva raised the obvious objection. "I don't think the fyrd did a good job of it tonight!"
"Can't argue with that," Sebastian said.
"That's because Morrie Kleinhoffer is the Justice of the Peace down there. He's such a bleeding heart, he probably let them go with a promise to be in bed by ten every night," said Alex.
"Anyway," said Sebastian, "The only thing that makes sense to me is that the Esqueletos are wrapped up with the car thieves. Probably one in the same, in fact."
Alex grunted thoughtfully. He fished a flexiscreen out of his backpack and synced it to his mobi. "What was the name of the shop they were smashing up?"
"It was some Russian or Polock name..."
Eva snapped her fingers. "Brotosky's! Brotosky's Deli."
Sebastian nodded. "That's it."
Alex repeated the name into his mobi and started scouring the Grid for connections. Meanwhile, Eva turned to her boyfriend, poking him playfully in his stomach. "So what did you really say to them when you were speaking Spanish? I know you were provoking them."
Sebastian smiled. "Let's leave it at that. It's unfit for the ears of a lady."
Eva pouted. "Fine. At least tell me what they were calling us."
He hesitated. "Well, puta means—"
"I know what that means. The other names. 'Broo-o' or something."
"Brujo means witch. Calderada is literally someone who belongs in a pot. It's from the idea that in the Middle Ages, witches got burned, while talents got boiled."
Evangeline gasped. "Good God! Is that true?"
"Nah, probably not. I don't think they'd have made a distinction between the two. Besides," he added with a smirk, "do you think they'd have been able to boil someone like you or me?"
Alex interrupted the conversation. "Here we go. Suddenly, this makes a lot more sense." Sebastian and Eva crowded around Alex as he explained. "The guy that owns the deli is head of the neighborhood watch. He was interviewed by the Tribune and he talked about the bust and crime in the area. And look here, it says he was pushing for the neighborhood association to press charges on behalf of the unidentified vehicle owners."
"Ah ha. So not a random act at all," Sebastian said. "They were out for revenge."
"Or intimidation."
"Does he have something to do with you guys? Did he tip you off?" Eva asked.
The boys chuckled. "No, of course not. Maybe that's what they think, though," Sebastian said.
"It'd be nice if we had some extra eyes, though," mused Alex. "Our patrols would be a lot less hit-or-miss. Maybe we can figure out a way to get in touch with the watch groups, even the JPs, without outing ourselves."
"Forget it. It'll never happen," Sebastian said. "They'd never work with us. It's only a matter of time before the press starts pinning crimes on us."
"So? Let 'em! Not everyone believes that propaganda!"
Eva laid her hand atop Sebastian's and looked at him, puzzled by his cynicism. "Why would you say that? Alex, right before we ran off, you said, 'Remember what happened last time.' Is that what you meant?"
"Heh, no," Alex waved his hand. "That's a whole other story." At length, the two boys related the long, sordid tale of the Mad Gasser of Panther Hollow and how they had taken the blame for it.
Eva was incredulous. "So the cops covered it up, even though the guy was dressed up and had chemicals and everything right there? And they made you out to be the bad guys? Why would they do that?"
"Because cops can be bad guys, too," said Alex.
Sebastian shrugged. "What can we say? Cops are going to stick together. If you think they pal around with us masks like in the old TV shows, you're fooling yourself. They don't like us messing around in 'their business.' It's the same way they have their rivalries between departments, or with the private detectives and patrol companies."
Eva regarded him curiously. It was a remarkably matter-of-fact reaction to being framed for a crime. She never expected Sebastian, of all people, to be so phlegmatic. "You're taking it very well."
"Huh." His sweaty brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression, wondering exactly when it had stopped bothering him so acutely. "Well, if I am, it's only because we're talking about it two weeks later. A guy can only lose so much sleep."
"You see all kinds of messed-up things out here," Alex said to Evangeline. "You'll get used to it."
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