Box of Frogs (The Fractured Faery Book 1) Read online

  ‘Gasbudlikins!’ I exploded, dropping down to the pavement and spinning round. The cat meowed one final time and took off, sauntering down the road away from both of us.

  ‘Do you need help?’ I asked desperately. ‘Saving from some bullies? Help with your homework? Anything?’

  The boy frowned, his brow creasing. ‘Actually,’ he said, while I started to smile hopefully, ‘nah. Fanks, though.’ He tripped away after the cat without a backward glance.

  My shoulders sank. So much for being a damned superhero. Nobody seemed to want my help. All I’d learned about myself was that I couldn’t fly and that my biceps were weedier than an average IT technician’s. And my darn finger was even more sore than before. What a waste of sodding time.

  I shook myself off and set off in the direction of the Travotel. I’d just have to try again later when it was dark. Besides, I needed to get some supplies.

  Making a brief detour, I located a small Boots in the main shopping precinct and scooped up some antiseptic cream and plasters. The other shoppers gave me a wide berth and, when I caught sight of myself in a nearby mirror, I realised why. My cheeks were bright red and there were smudges of dirt all over my face, hands and clothes, mingled with the grass stains from the night before which I hadn’t noticed previously. I also reeked. Grimacing, I grabbed some deodorant. No wonder even the cat didn’t want my help.

  When I stepped out of the shop, it started to rain and big fat droplets of cold yuck landed on my head. Someone opened their umbrella right next to me, almost taking out my eye. I was turning to spit out an expletive when my attention was caught by something else entirely. Or rather someone else.

  Directly opposite, and probably less than twenty metres away, stood a woman of Amazonian stature. She was completely ignoring the rain and glaring at me with a mixture of shock and fear. She sashayed her hips once, as if in delight, then started to reach inside her coat pocket. I didn’t wait to see what manner of weapon she was pulling out. I simply ran.

  Fool, I mentally berated myself. Regardless of who I was – or indeed what I was – I knew full well that the bad guys were after me. Wandering around in the middle of day was just asking to be taken down. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the rain, I’d probably already be dead.

  I pelted round the nearest corner and darted into a shop, making sure to close the jangling door behind me. Chest tight with nervous tension, I whirled round and waited to see if the woman was following me.

  ‘Welcome, dear!’

  I ignored the trilling voice of the shop assistant, keeping my eyes peeled on the street outside.

  ‘Terrible weather we’re having, isn’t it?’

  I crossed my arms and continued to stare. There was no sign of the woman and for a moment I debated whether to go back and find her. Perhaps if I confronted her, I’d learn more about who I was. Without the element of surprise on her side, I’d be more likely to gain the upper hand. After all, I’d beaten back all those goons last night.

  In the end, however, the persistent shop assistant behind me made the decision for me. ‘We have some lovely new clothes in. I just hung them up. There are some warm coats.’ She paused. ‘You look like you need a coat.’

  I supposed I did look like I was in need of proper clothing. Satisfied that my would-be attacker wasn’t on my heels, I slowly turned, realising that I was inside a charity shop.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, somewhat belatedly. ‘Yes, I do need something decent to wear.’

  She beamed in delight. ‘How about a nice anorak? Or we have these jumpers?’

  I started to nod then my eye fell on something else entirely. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I’m in the market for something completely different.’

  ***

  When I finally got back to the safety of the hotel, after doubling back several times to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I was soaking wet and shivering. I laid out my new clothes and jumped in the shower. I hadn’t appreciated quite how dirty I was but, judging by the colour of the water swirling down the drain, I needed a damn good scrub.

  As soon as I was warm and dry again, I tried on the first of my new outfits. The shop assistant had been nonplussed at some of my choices – but she didn’t know what I did.

  First of all, there was a dark leotard. It fitted snugly and was surprisingly comfortable. To avoid any unpleasant suggestion of camel toe, I pulled a pair of shorts on top. Then I grabbed my pièce de résistance. This was what had really caught my eye in the shop: a bright, electric-blue cape. Goodness only knew what it had originally been used for but it didn’t matter now. Every superhero needs a cape and now I had one of my own. I’d even managed to snag a mask to cover my eyes and nose. It had some ridiculous flowers on one side, which I yanked off, but I left on the sequins. The Madhatter deserved some sequins, I decided.

  As expected, the overall effect was completely ridiculous. However, my reasons for playing fancy dress were twofold. First of all, I needed a disguise to guard against those who were after me; secondly, I wanted the world to know that I wasn’t just a crazed person roaming the streets – I really did want to help out. Every other darned superhero in the world had a costume. Surely I deserved one too?

  I twirled round several times, practising with the cape to avoid suffocating myself instead of expertly swirling the silky material as I wanted to do. After twenty minutes or so, I reckoned I had it. My first venture into the real world today might have been a total disaster but I was ready for my second one.

  I applied cream to my poor finger, slapped on a plaster and waited for night to fall.

  Chapter Four

  Obviously, I didn’t want to stride out of the Travotel wearing my superhero disguise for all and sundry to see. In fact, by the time it was actually dark, I was starting to regret my plans to dress up.

  There was still nothing on the news about any unfortunate events at a local golf course, and I still remembered nothing about myself. I’d spent an hour or two making use of the hotel’s business centre but, with virtually no clues to go on, my internet searches weren’t very helpful. Unsurprisingly, typing ‘who am I?’ into the search bar didn’t get me very far, regardless of which search engine I used.

  If some real clues didn’t present themselves soon, I would have to involve the police. In that scenario, it was probably better that they didn’t discover I’d been running around the city streets and trying to save people in order to test out my supposed super powers. Neither I didn’t think my real self, whoever she was, would appreciate my costume. I could only presume that my amnesia was making me bold. If I didn’t know myself, I certainly didn’t know anyone who would be embarrassed by my get-up.

  I told myself that I was being sensible. I doubted the authorities would look kindly on a hero vigilante and, with any luck, my disguise would hide my identity from CCTV cameras as well as potential evil-doers. Anyway, it was important to go with your gut instinct. All the same, it was fortunate that I’d had the foresight to purchase a long raincoat that more than covered my outfit. I dropped some cash and the strange spherical object I’d nabbed from the headless corpse into one of the deep pockets then did up the buttons.

  I didn’t put on the mask until I was well away from the hotel. Once it was snug and secure on my face, I stashed the raincoat under an old car that didn’t look as if it had been driven since the seventies. Doubtless the coat would be safe there until my return in a few hours’ time; if nothing else, it was both dry and out of sight.

  Once that was done and I was striding along the street once more, I felt as if I’d found myself in the middle of some bizarre Marvel-inspired farce. I whispered under my breath that confidence and aplomb would carry me further than my blue cape and straightened my shoulders.

  My first stop was the side street where I’d spoken to the homeless guy. Alas, there was still no sign of him. Given how nasty his head wound had looked that wasn’t surprising, but I was still disappointed. So far he was my only viable lead – and I suspected that ev
en he didn’t have much to offer.

  Once I’d established that he wasn’t anywhere nearby, I veered off to the seedy area where I’d tried to play hero earlier. I did, however, avoid the cat’s street. I might seem to possess a high embarrassment threshold but there was only so much humiliation I was willing to put myself through.

  I pitter-pattered my way along the pavement, keeping a close eye out for anything untoward. It had finally stopped raining and the clouds were clearing. That was good. I couldn’t remember a full twenty-four hours of my life but so far most of it had included rain; anything that didn’t involve getting wet could only be deemed positive. I hadn’t tested it yet but I was fairly certain my cape wasn’t waterproof.

  A small group of people appeared from the gloom on the other side of the street. They were laughing, merry with alcohol although not yet so sozzled that they couldn’t walk in a straight line. One of the men lifted his head and spotted me, grinning when he took in my costume. ‘Hey!’ he yelled. ‘Where’s the fancy-dress party?’

  ‘I’m not going to a party!’ I called back. ‘I’m a superhero! I’m looking for someone to rescue.’

  All of them laughed and the man who’d hailed me clutched his chest melodramatically. ‘Rescue me! I’m being kidnapped and taken to yet another pub where these bastards will force me to drink more beer.’ His voice rose. ‘Help! It’s not even a good pub. It’s that poncey Metropolitan place.’

  I paused. Well, hang onto your superhero tights. Providence was finally smiling on me. I shook out my hair and sprang across the street. ‘I must save you from a fate worse than death,’ I boomed.

  ‘Please, please, Miss Superhero Lady.’

  ‘I am the Madhatter,’ I intoned.

  ‘Please, Miss Madhatter. Please help me.’ The man, who close up was rather good-looking with strawberry-blond hair tied back in a daft man bun and sparkly blue eyes, fell to his knees, clasping his hands together and raising them towards me. He wasn’t exactly the sort of person I’d been looking for but this was far too good an opportunity to pass up. It certainly beat walking around the cold streets of Manchester hoping that someone would get attacked simply so I could try and save them.

  I tapped my mouth as if deep in thought. ‘I can’t save you from the pub,’ I told him. ‘But I can accompany you as your bodyguard to prevent anything untoward from happening.’

  The man’s eyes danced. ‘I’ve always wanted a bodyguard,’ he grinned. He looked me up and down, clearly enjoying what he saw. ‘Especially a superhero bodyguard. I can only pay you in beer though.’

  Did I like beer? I smacked my lips and beamed back. ‘Done.’

  He stuck out his hand. ‘Dave.’ He waited. There was no doubt as to what he expected in return.

  Uh… ‘I can’t tell you my real name,’ I said conspiratorially. ‘It would compromise my secret identity.’

  Dave was momentarily deflated. ‘Don’t worry, boyo,’ one of his mates said. ‘Your last girlfriend was mad too.’

  Dave leaned towards me with a rueful expression. ‘He’s right. She kinda was.’ Then, as if he’d overstepped the mark, he tried to backtrack. ‘In a fun way. She wasn’t bad. She just, er…’

  I touched his arm. ‘Let’s just get that beer, shall we?’

  I was rewarded with another disarming grin. ‘Let’s.’

  His friend leaned in. ‘He’s been desperate to get to the Metropolitan Bar all night,’ he confided.

  I smiled. Him and me both.

  ***

  As it turned out, the Metropolitan Bar wasn’t far away; in fact, I’d probably run past it during my escape bid from the Amazon woman. Despite Dave’s chatter and questions, each of which I neatly deflected, I felt a tight coil of fear inside me as we went in. I was half-expecting to be jumped on by several evil goons. Instead, not a single person glanced in my direction.

  Scanning the crowd, I searched for any sign of bald villains or potentially nasty killers but the punters appeared innocuous. Unless the woman in the far corner was planning to stab me to death with one of her dangly earrings, or the short guy nursing a pint was hiding a machine gun inside his ancient Oasis T-shirt, I reckoned I was probably okay.

  Dave and I strolled up to the bar, his friends apparently deciding that it would be wise to give us space. He glanced down at me. ‘Have you been here before?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Nope,’ I said cheerfully. ‘First time.’

  The woman behind the bar, with a neat blonde ponytail and a cheerful smile, ambled over. She took in my mask and costume and seemed unconcerned that I looked like an idiot. Then her eyes met mine and she squinted. ‘Oh. It’s you.’ Her friendly smile vanished and she glanced behind her as if seeking help. ‘Long time no see.’ She certainly didn’t sound very happy. But—

  She was addressing me. And she knew me.

  I stared at her, my expression as blank as my memory, while Dave nudged me in the ribs. ‘First time here?’ he murmured.

  I paid him no attention. ‘You know me,’ I breathed, finding my voice and focusing my attention on the woman. ‘You know who I am.’

  Her expression flickered. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ She turned her attention to Dave. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  I reached forward and grabbed her arm. She stiffened immediately. ‘Yes, you do. How do you know me?’

  She yanked her arm away from me and turned to the barman. ‘I’m taking my break,’ she said. ‘Can you serve these two, please, Phil?’

  He grunted and she all but sprinted away and through a solid-looking door marked ‘Staff Only’. By my side, I felt Dave shoot me a wary look. I forced a smile in his direction and shrugged. ‘Secret identity,’ I reminded him, as if my exchange with the woman had been nothing but banter. ‘No one’s supposed to know who I am.’

  We got our drinks and, ignoring the prickle of discomfort across the back of my neck, Dave and I sat at the same table as his friends. I made sure that I had a clear vantage point to the door; if that woman reappeared, I wanted to know about it.

  ‘So,’ Dave said, taking several swift gulps of his beer as if alcohol could rescue him from the crazy woman he’d somehow entangled himself with, ‘tell me more about yourself.’ He shifted away from me slightly; clearly I was making him nervous. His eyes kept flickering around the room, as if he were searching for rescue. ‘Not your name. Tell me something else.’

  He’d already served his purpose but all the same I felt a bit sorry for him. I took a small sip of my drink and savoured the taste, letting the bubbles tickle my tongue. ‘I like beer.’ I burped loudly for extra effect before grabbing the edge of my cape and using the corner of it to wipe my mouth. With that done, I scratched my crotch rather vigorously.

  Dave’s cheeks coloured, embarrassed for me. ‘Good. That’s…’ he hesitated ‘…good.’ Then, apparently deciding that ignoring me would be the safest course because I wasn’t the sort of lady he’d thought I was, he turned to his friends and immediately engaged them in a supposedly riotous conversation about a game of football.

  I smiled. Now, when I disappeared to find my errant barmaid so I could interrogate her, he would be unlikely to care. In fact, he’d probably be relieved.

  I leaned away from him and his mates. The discomfort I’d felt earlier was increasing. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought that someone was watching me. No one in the bar area was glancing in my direction but there was a CCTV camera in a far corner and I was right in its line of sight.

  I stood up and ambled over to the bandit machine on the other side of the room. I half-turned and started to fumble in the pocket of my shorts as if I were looking for some change to gamble away. The camera followed me, its tiny lens swivelling in my direction. Bingo. I’d definitely made the right decision in coming here.

  I might have run away from the Amazon in the street but I’d been caught unawares and I’d panicked. That wasn’t going to happen again. This time I was here on purpose and I was prepared to do whatever I c
ould to take charge of the situation.

  What had happened with the bullets the previous night hadn’t been my imagination; I was sure of that. It might have been the adrenaline that awoke whatever powers lay inside me; all I had to do was to recapture that feeling and utilise the same skill now.

  I raised my arms slowly, vaguely aware of Dave eyeing me as I did so. Then I whispered under my breath, ‘Come on.’

  There was a brief tightening in my stomach, followed by a muted whooshing sound. The people around the edges of the bar blurred slightly and the high-pitched chatter around me dulled. I gazed round in astonishment. I’d done it – I’d slowed down time again.

  I didn’t know how long it would last, however. Shaking myself, I closed my gaping mouth and vamoosed through the staff door. With any luck, all the CCTV would pick up would be a blur of electric blue. As the door closed behind me, I allowed myself a Wonder Woman spin. Take that, arsebadgers!

  The bar might have been all sleek lines and burnished mahogany tables but the staff quarters beyond were somewhat shabbier. There were numerous health and safety posters lining the walls in the small staffroom, a few rickety chairs and a tea-stained table with an electric kettle and an array of mugs. There was no sign of the woman who’d recognised me.

  Figuring that she probably wasn’t carousing with the chef or the kitchen porter, I skipped past the door marked ‘Kitchen’ and headed instead for the two doors near the end of the corridor. One led into a suspiciously empty office that had a bank of television screens that were obviously fed by the CCTV cameras, including the one that had been tracking me. The other led outside.

  I popped my head out and there, leaning against the wall and blowing out a cloud of slowly dissipating cigarette smoke, was my target.

  As soon as I stepped outside to join her, the air around me seemed to crackle as if the air molecules were tightening. A heartbeat later, the smoke that the woman had been exhaling abruptly picked up speed. Time had returned to its normal pace. That was uber groovy. Maybe I wasn’t a superhero. Maybe I was a Time Lord. Or Lady.