Devlin quit laughing. He looked at the two scraps of paper, then at me. I got the impression he wanted to teleport away. Somewhere far, far away.

I reached over and slid the glasses off his face. "You don't have to hide from me. Not anymore, Devlin Debonair Dash."

He looked at me, really looked at me, and I realized I was staring into the face of the man I'd slept with. The face of the man I'd come to care about.

Devlin tucked his glasses in his pocket. His mouth twisted. "Of course I do. I have to hide from everyone."

I thought about what Lulu had said-how finding out a superhero's real identity ruined the mystery, the fantasy, for her. Maybe Devlin thought that way too. "Why do you say that?"

He let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. "Because if people found out I was really Debonair, they'd be angry with me. Think I'd betrayed them in some way. That I'd lied to them all these years. They'd laugh and snicker and point their fingers, especially the women. I couldn't stand that."

"Why do you even do it?" I asked. "Why be somebody like Debonair?"

Devlin stared down at his scuffed wingtips. "I'm not like the other men on the society scene in Bigtime. I'm not that rich, at least not anymore. I'm not that handsome, and I never know the right thing to say. I can't even tell a good joke. Half the time, I forget the punch line. I've always been awkward and self-conscious, particularly around women. I've never felt like I fit in, not even in my own family. Debonair is a way for me to be everything I want to be. Suave. Smooth. Cool. Confident. Everything I'm not in real life. It's an escape from being average, boring, nerdy Devlin Dash, if only for a few hours at a time."

"I see."

And I did. I understood Devlin better than he realized. I used to dream of being Johnny Angel, and I'd seen the effect a secret identity had on people like my father. To some, it was better than the most potent drug. More desirable, more addictive, and much more harmful. At least, it had been to my family.

"I don't think people would laugh at you if they knew the truth. You're a very interesting, special man in your own right, Devlin."

He gave me a wan smile, as if he didn't really believe me.

"And your powers?" I asked, wanting to know the rest of the story. "How did you get your powers?"

Devlin looked out into the shimmering water. Memories clouded his blue eyes. "You know my grandmother, Grace, raised me. My parents died in a sailing accident when I was thirteen. What you don't know, what very few people know, is that I was with them when it happened. We were out on the bay, when a sudden storm swept up. My father tried to turn the boat back to shore, but the sail snapped. Lightning danced across the sky, coming toward the boat. I knew it was going to hit us. Right before it did, I felt this odd sort of power grow inside me. My vision grew fuzzy, hazy, almost like I was standing in a sea of fog. The next thing I knew, I was in the middle of the bay, trying not to drown. A second later, lightning struck the boat, and it exploded. They say my parents died instantly. They never found their bodies."

"But you didn't die." I squeezed his hand, willing him to go on with his story. "You survived. How?"

Devlin drew in a deep breath. "Cap'n Freebeard and his Saucy Wenches saw the explosion and came to help. They found me clinging to a piece of debris. They rescued me and kept me safe until Grams could come and get me."

Devlin watching his parents drown, discovering his power, being taken aboard Freebeard's love boat. That would have had a major impact on him. The shock, the trauma, the stress. It was the beginning of him becoming Debonair.

From his story, it sounded like Devlin had a natural, genetic mutation that gave him superpowers, unlike Carmen Cole, who'd developed hers only after being dropped into a vat of radioactive waste. Or Henry Harris, who'd been struck by lightning. Or a dozen other legends I'd heard. Devlin was more like me than I'd realized.

"I know why you were in Berkley's house that night. You were stealing the painting so you could restore it, weren't you? That's why you steal all the art you do."

He nodded. "I take the paintings, restore and preserve them, and then return them to their owners-or to the nearest museum. There's no real harm in it. I do it because I can't stand to see beautiful things wasting away. I suppose I'm an art lover, like you. I always have been."

I took a deep breath and moved on to what I really wanted to know. "I understand why you saved me from Hangman. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what I don't understand is why you kept me in the Lair of Seduction. Is that standard operating procedure until your seduction techniques work? Or was there a special reason we slept together?"

"I kept you in the Lair of Seduction because I wanted to keep you safe and . . . because I wanted to spend time with you."

"But why?"

I had to know. I just had to know.

Devlin stared into my eyes. "Because I've been in love with you for a long time now, Bella."

My heart leapt up into my throat, and my stomach flipped over. "You're what?!"

He took my cold hand in his own. "I'm in love with you, Bella Bulluci. I have been ever since we went out all those months ago."

"But-but why? We only had dinner that one time. You barely knew me then. Or know me now. Or . . . whatever."

"I've been interested in you ever since we chaired that art exhibit out at Paradise Park."

"But that was months ago!"

"I know."

I shook my head. "But you never called or asked me out. You didn't even talk to me that much when I'd see you at events."

A wry smile twisted Devlin's face. "Like I said before, I'm not very good with women. But after that, I started watching you. Talking to you when I could. And I realized what a special person you are. How warm and kind and caring."

"But why didn't you say anything before?" I asked. "I would have gone out with you. I would have given you a chance."

"I couldn't. I was too afraid. You're so beautiful, so sophisticated, so elegant. I thought you'd just laugh at me."

With all the messes my jinx created, I knew what it felt like to be made fun of. I gripped his hand tighter. "I would never laugh at you."

He squeezed back. "I know that now, Bella. When you put yourself up for auction at the museum benefit, I decided to bid on you."

My eyebrows rose. "You spent twenty thousand dollars just to have a date with me?"

"I'd spend that much and a thousand times more."

I didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened by the fervor in his voice.

"When we had dinner earlier this year, I thought we had a wonderful time. You smiled at me and seemed interested in what I was saying. You even laughed at my jokes. Nobody ever laughs at my jokes." The smile left Devlin's face. "But you never called me afterward like you said you would."

"I was going to," I said in a soft voice. "That night after dinner, I found out my father had been killed. Murdered, actually. I was a mess after that. It's no excuse, but I forgot all about you. Afterward . . . other stuff just kept happening."

"What other stuff?"

I grimaced. "Superhero stuff. My brother was kidnapped by ubervillains a couple months after my father was killed. It was a stressful time, to say the least."

Devlin looked puzzled. "Who kidnapped your brother? I didn't hear anything about that, and Kelly didn't mention it to me."

"It doesn't really matter," I said, glossing over the details.

We sat there for several minutes before Devlin spoke again.

"What about now, Bella? I know we haven't exactly gotten off to the best start, but I want to be with you. Do you think there's a chance you would want to be with me too?"

His voice sounded so fragile, so small, and yet so hopeful it broke my heart. Because the answer to his question was no, and it always would be.

"I don't want to get involved with a superhero," I said. "I can't, Devlin."

"Why not? I don't understand why you hate superheroes so much."

I closed my eyes, debating whether I should tell him my family secret. I supposed it was only fair, since I knew his deepest, darkest one. "Have you ever heard of Johnny Angel?"

"The guy who rides his motorcycle around town?" Devlin seemed startled by the abrupt change in conversation. "The one who wears the black leather jacket with the angel wings on the back and hangs out with the biker gangs?"

I nodded. "Well, let's just say Johnny Angel is sort of a Bulluci family tradition."

His blue eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

"My father died because he was Johnny Angel," I said. "He tried to help some friends stop a couple of ubervillains, and they killed him for getting in the way."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

I shrugged, used to hearing the condolences. "Not many people do."

Devlin stared at me. "You're afraid the same thing will happen to me. That Hangman or some ubervillain will kill me."

"Yes," I admitted. "I already have a bit of a soft spot for you, Devlin. I don't need-I don't want my heart to be crushed again by a superhero. And it would be if we starting seeing each other."

"But I'm not a superhero," Devlin said. "Not really."

I shook my head. "You're close enough. You go out and break into museums. Steal things from people. Teleport around the city and pick up sexy superhero awards. You even have an archenemy in Hangman." Sadness tinged my voice.

"Bella-"

He started to protest, but I put a finger to his lips, shushing him. "No, Devlin. It would never work out between us. Trust me. Please. We can't be together. Not now. Not ever."

Devlin stared at me for a long time, his eyes dark and sad. Then- POP!.

He vanished.

Just like always.

I waited for him to return. To realize my finding out his secret identity wasn't the end of the world. To tell me being a superhero wasn't that dangerous. To ask me to reconsider. To demand we be together, now and always. But he didn't.

And part of me wanted him to, no matter how I tried to pretend otherwise.

I waited half an hour before I realized he wasn't coming back. At least not tonight. Maybe not ever, given the hurt look I'd seen in his eyes.

But it was for the best. I didn't want to have a relationship with a superhero-or semisuperhero in Debonair's case. I'd spent too many nights sitting up praying my grandfather, father, and now Johnny would come home safely. I wasn't about to do that again. Not for anyone. Devlin would come to understand that in time, I hoped.

So, I wrapped his coat tighter around my chilled shoulders and headed back to my car. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts I didn't even notice the Benz was on fire until I was twenty feet away from it.

I stared in horror at the flames leaping out from underneath the hood. Why was my car on fire? I hadn't been anywhere near it for the last hour. There was no way my luck could have caused it to spontaneously combust. Even I wasn't that jinxed. At least, not usually.

I whirled around, but I didn't see anyone standing in the shadows. No superheroes, no ubervillains, no regular, old-fashioned gawkers come to check out all the commotion.

I stared at the burning car. Through the dancing orange flames, a line of fire zipped straight up the hood to the melted windshield. It looked almost like the car had been cut in two before it exploded. What could do that to a car? Especially a behemoth like my Benz? I didn't know of any ubervillains who were that powerful. Had someone new come to Bigtime?

My power pulsed. My fingers itched. My hair expanded to gravity- and conditioner-defying heights. Static energy wrapped itself around my body like a glove. Something very, very bad was about to happen.

"Ah, Bella Bulluci. Just the woman I was waiting for," a feminine voice called out.

A woman stood behind me. She wore a buttercup yellow suit that reminded me of Fiera's costume-except it was made out of shiny leather. She wore matching boots with it, sort of like galoshes young kids were always forced to endure. The bright ensemble made me grimace. I thought Fiona was bad, but yellow leather? Talk about cheesy.

A triangular-shaped prism decorated the front of her costume. A beam of light slashed across her chest, before hitting the prism and expanding into a rainbow spectrum on the other side. It was one of the weirdest insignias I'd seen. A yellow, triangle-shaped mask covered most of her face, the bottom point resting on her nose. Her bright eyes had a red tint to them.

The woman was tall, almost six feet, with auburn-colored hair that stuck up in spikes over her head. She had a decent enough figure-long legs, modest breasts, a relatively flat midsection. But her posture was ramrod-stiff. I didn't think a four-star general could have stood up any taller or straighter. She almost looked like a board someone had stuffed into a costume.

But what caught my attention most was the device in her hand. The long, slender cylinder looked like a laser pointer, except for the reddish glow burning on the end of the barrel.

And it was aimed at me.

26.

'Who are you?' I asked, not daring to take my eyes off the laserlike device for a second. My power pulsed around me, the laserlike device for a second. My power pulsed around me, ready to add to the impending disaster.

She smiled. "I have lots of names, but you can call me Prism. I believe Hangman might have mentioned me."

I licked my dry lips. "You're his boss, right? The one who told him to break into the museum?"

She nodded. "That's right. I want the Star Sapphire. And you're going to give it to me, Bella."

"But I don't have it. The Fearless Five do. They took it from Debonair when they rescued me. Everybody knows that."

Prism's eyes glowed red-hot for a second. "I don't believe you. You might not have the sapphire, but you know where it is and how I can get it."

I shook my head. "Trust me. I don't. I don't know anything about the sapphire."

Prism cocked her head to one side. "We'll see."

If I'd had any sense, I'd have started running. But I had a funny feeling Prism and her laser would cut me down before I took five steps. It also didn't help matters that I'd decided to wear three-inch heels tonight. Then again, I hadn't thought I'd be face-to-face with an ubervillain. Most of my dates didn't end this way. I certainly hadn't planned on this one turning out like that.

My fingers crept up to my wrist and to Jasper's bomb-laden bracelet. I thought about using it, but there was one small problem-Prism could pull the trigger on her weapon a lot faster than I could fumble with the charms, arm them, and try to throw them at her. Even then, she could still move out of the way. Or worse, stand still and take the blast. She could have superstrength for all I knew, or be impervious to explosions, like Johnny was.

My eyes slid around, hoping some superhero would see the flames and smoke from the car and come to my rescue. Debonair, Swifte, the Fearless Five, Halitosis Hal, Pistol Pete, the Invisible Ingenues, Wynter. Somebody. Anybody.

Nobody came.

"Now, Bella, enough chitchat. You're going to tell me where the sapphire is and exactly who has it." Prism waved the laser around. Smoke and flames curled up from the silver barrel. "Or else."

"Or else you're going to shoot me, right? That thing, what does it do?" I asked, stalling for time. Having seen a couple of hero-villain battles, I knew there were few things ubervillains liked better than to show off their destructive gizmos.