would magically appear in the steam on the mirror.
“Um …”
My gaze fell to the floor. No name there, just puddles of water.
“Um …”
I looked out the open door. Talon’s clothes sat in a row in the next room. My eyes latched onto the winged bird insignia on the superhero’s ruined shirt.
“Wren.” It was the first thing that popped into my head. “Just call me Wren.”
“Wren?” Talon asked. “Is that your real name?”
“Of course not. But it’s a bird name. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“But why don’t you just tell me your real name?”
I sighed. “Look, you’re naked. In my apartment. I don’t usually have strange, naked men in my apartment, especially not superheroes. You’re not going to tell me your real name. Why should I tell you mine? It will probably be easier for both of us if we stick to anonymous names. That way, I won’t wonder whether my mailman is thinking about the night I took off his clothes whenever he delivers my packages.”
Talon threw his head back and laughed. The rich, throaty timbre rumbled through the room, almost like bass notes. The sound made me smile, despite the weirdness of the whole evening.
“Well, I can guarantee I’m not your mailman, but I get your point.” Talon smiled. “So, Wren it is. You saved my life. That’s all I really need to know. Nice to meet you.”
Talon must have still been feeling the affects from Bandit’s gas because he held out his hand about a foot away from where I stood. I leaned down and stuck my wet one in his.
“Nice to meet you too, Talon. Now, why don’t we get you cleaned up?”
“I’d like that.”
#
I spent the next half hour leaning over the tub, cleaning the wound in Talon’s shoulder. The bullet had gone all the way through, which meant I didn’t have to try to dig it out, like people always did in the movies. I don’t think I could have, given how much smelly blood would have been involved. Looking at the two small, neat holes in his skin was bad enough.
Talon pressed a hidden button on the side of his visor, which started humming. A moment later, the mechanized voice delivered its diagnosis.
No vital tissue damaged in shoulder region. Flesh wound only. Recommended course of action is round of painkillers and bed rest …
“Your visor can tell how seriously injured you are?”
Talon nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have superpowers, so I have to rely on my equipment more than most. I programmed the visor with a body scanner, basic medical information, and some other bells and whistles.”
“That is too cool,” I said. “A stun gun, a body scanner, and a medical encyclopedia. That thing’s better than a Swiss Army knife.”
The superhero laughed again. I liked the sound.
“You know, you have a very gentle touch,” Talon murmured as I rinsed off his shoulder. “I’ve barely felt a thing this whole time.”
A gentle touch? Yeah, I supposed so, now that my skin was supercharged to feel even the slightest vibration up to ten feet away. That was one of the reasons I usually wore oversized flannel shirts, baggy cargo pants, and custom-made camisoles by Bella Bulluci and Fiona Fine whenever I was at home. I couldn’t stand to feel anything but the softest, smoothest, silkiest material on my skin.
“Well, I’m trying,” I said. “It’s not every day I patch up a bullet wound.”
Talon shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’s not that hard. I’ve done it several times.”
I knew he had. Nicks and scars covered his body, the signs of old battles and the price of being a superhero—especially one without any regenerative capabilities. Unlike Striker, the leader of the Fearless Five who could heal instantly, Talon was more of a mortal superhero, a clever gadget guru who used his wits to get by, which made me like him even more.
“All right,” I said. “It’s as clean as I’m going to get it.”
It was clean—squeaky clean. I couldn’t smell any stench of
“Um …”
My gaze fell to the floor. No name there, just puddles of water.
“Um …”
I looked out the open door. Talon’s clothes sat in a row in the next room. My eyes latched onto the winged bird insignia on the superhero’s ruined shirt.
“Wren.” It was the first thing that popped into my head. “Just call me Wren.”
“Wren?” Talon asked. “Is that your real name?”
“Of course not. But it’s a bird name. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“But why don’t you just tell me your real name?”
I sighed. “Look, you’re naked. In my apartment. I don’t usually have strange, naked men in my apartment, especially not superheroes. You’re not going to tell me your real name. Why should I tell you mine? It will probably be easier for both of us if we stick to anonymous names. That way, I won’t wonder whether my mailman is thinking about the night I took off his clothes whenever he delivers my packages.”
Talon threw his head back and laughed. The rich, throaty timbre rumbled through the room, almost like bass notes. The sound made me smile, despite the weirdness of the whole evening.
“Well, I can guarantee I’m not your mailman, but I get your point.” Talon smiled. “So, Wren it is. You saved my life. That’s all I really need to know. Nice to meet you.”
Talon must have still been feeling the affects from Bandit’s gas because he held out his hand about a foot away from where I stood. I leaned down and stuck my wet one in his.
“Nice to meet you too, Talon. Now, why don’t we get you cleaned up?”
“I’d like that.”
#
I spent the next half hour leaning over the tub, cleaning the wound in Talon’s shoulder. The bullet had gone all the way through, which meant I didn’t have to try to dig it out, like people always did in the movies. I don’t think I could have, given how much smelly blood would have been involved. Looking at the two small, neat holes in his skin was bad enough.
Talon pressed a hidden button on the side of his visor, which started humming. A moment later, the mechanized voice delivered its diagnosis.
No vital tissue damaged in shoulder region. Flesh wound only. Recommended course of action is round of painkillers and bed rest …
“Your visor can tell how seriously injured you are?”
Talon nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have superpowers, so I have to rely on my equipment more than most. I programmed the visor with a body scanner, basic medical information, and some other bells and whistles.”
“That is too cool,” I said. “A stun gun, a body scanner, and a medical encyclopedia. That thing’s better than a Swiss Army knife.”
The superhero laughed again. I liked the sound.
“You know, you have a very gentle touch,” Talon murmured as I rinsed off his shoulder. “I’ve barely felt a thing this whole time.”
A gentle touch? Yeah, I supposed so, now that my skin was supercharged to feel even the slightest vibration up to ten feet away. That was one of the reasons I usually wore oversized flannel shirts, baggy cargo pants, and custom-made camisoles by Bella Bulluci and Fiona Fine whenever I was at home. I couldn’t stand to feel anything but the softest, smoothest, silkiest material on my skin.
“Well, I’m trying,” I said. “It’s not every day I patch up a bullet wound.”
Talon shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’s not that hard. I’ve done it several times.”
I knew he had. Nicks and scars covered his body, the signs of old battles and the price of being a superhero—especially one without any regenerative capabilities. Unlike Striker, the leader of the Fearless Five who could heal instantly, Talon was more of a mortal superhero, a clever gadget guru who used his wits to get by, which made me like him even more.
“All right,” I said. “It’s as clean as I’m going to get it.”
It was clean—squeaky clean. I couldn’t smell any stench of
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