Chapter 13 – the suspicions of a superhero – cat attack

‘Cath. Cathy.’

‘…what?’

‘Look, if you’re not comfortable here then we can go somewhere else. Any more of this sitting in silence and I’ll think we’re a couple again.’ 

‘Jeez Ish, give us a break. Can’t blame me for getting a bit distracted in this place,’ and I nodded towards the guy at the bar who was trying to get the eye of the barman by causing a light blue flame to glow between his antlers. 

We were sitting at a table for two in the corner of Tickety Boos, a straight pub we used to visit a lot when we started going out, adding an extra kick when I managed to get a kiss in. Since the Change though it’d take more than two women kissing to cause a stir as for some reason it had become a haven for Supers. Actually, that was probably because it was so normal, allowed them the feeling they were ordinary folk having a pint after a hard day’s work. Never mind that work involved single-handedly rescuing a herd of minke whales stranded on a beach in Fife or blowing out a forest fire with your hurricane breath.

I eased my shoulders, trying to stretch the tension out and forget about that illegal pen drive in my pocket. ‘Look, I know you’ll say I’m paranoid but you can’t blame me for being uptight. I’m the only one here not in spandex or a cape. This must be what it feels like being straight in a gay bar. Trespassing.’

‘That is so Hero phobic,’ but Ish was smiling and I remembered how seeing that smile, being the cause of it, used to feel like my own superpower. 

‘I can see them glancing over y’know, trying to get a sneaky peek, wondering who the dyke is chatting to the great Silver Selkie.’ 

I couldn’t help feeling smug. Although Ish always looked good, as the Selkie she was spectacular. Blonde hair that had a look of slickness about it, as if she’d swept out of rough seas, the blue eyes shining as much as her silvery costume which was definitely more sexy than daft. Perhaps it was to stop myself getting too keen again that I carried on with, ‘They’ll be reporting back to that idiot, the Golden Eagle. Telling him you’re slipping back into your old ways, getting friendly with the ladies. You’ve a lot more in common with him than me now anyway.’ 

As her smile faded I tried not to feel too shitty. Told myself I needed to say stuff like that so neither of us got any ideas about getting back together again. Because she blew that. Blew it when she went up to Skye and got bitten by that bloody seal. 

A silver halo started to shimmer around her, her voice turning hard, that Selkie sound added to her words, jabbing my eardrums. ‘Cath, what is this? You going for some time record in turning a nice night out crappy? Rather be sitting here with the Doomsayer.’

‘The Doomsayer?’ I put on my very best gravelly movie trailer voice. ‘But I thought you liked her.’

‘Yeah, she’s nice enough, just a bit, y’know…doomy? Never that easy sitting next to someone who knows exactly when and how you’re going to die.’

‘Really? Shit…’

‘Yeah, can really be a downer when you go and reach for another party ring and she starts tutting and rolling her eyes, muttering about your future health.’

‘Wait…party rings? At this meeting you were at?’

‘The sugar. We need it, us Heroes, keeps up our energy levels,’ but she did look a bit embarrassed when taking a sip of her G & T.

‘Aw great, that’s just a health care crisis waiting to happen, isn’t it. Superheroes with diabetes, ‘Scotland Super Shame…’

‘God, you are as bad as she is, freaking everyone out when we started talking about organising a Hero conference next year and she goes into one of her trances and starts saying how we might not be here next year …’

‘Fuck…that sounds serious…’ but Ish smiled wearily, ‘Och, you learn to filter her out, think of her as some manic depressive Scottish granny. Y’know, there used to be a time when I thought PTA meetings were bad but Superheroes…’ and she yawned and I realised under that mask she was as exhausted as she used to be after a day teaching music to fourteen-year-olds trying to get them interested in xylophones while they were busy kneecapping each other with mallets. 

I should have been sympathetic so of course I come out with, ‘Still, better than the day job, isn’t it? If you will choose to be a Superhero…’

‘Choose!’ Her voice rang out and our glasses shuddered, the bar staff eyeing the optics nervously. ‘Choose?’ She’d lowered her voice but was keeping it at a pitch that caused my ears to vibrate unpleasantly. ‘You know I had no choice in it. D’you honestly think I’d have chosen this, all the hassle?’ and before I’d thought about it, I’d put my hand on hers to quieten her down. 

‘Alright, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it, just teasing you, OK? We’re both stressed and…’ she switched her hand on top of mine, keeping eye contact for too long as I pulled my fingers away. 

‘So anyway, this meeting you were having, it was about the Fantoosh? This Gathering business?’

‘Yeah, sort of.’ She looked at me slyly. ‘Why? You’ve never shown much of an interest in Hero stuff before. You always used to moan about how I kept going on about cape stuff, that was one of the reasons why -’

‘Yeah, well, I’m starting to take more of an interest.’ I took another drink of my pint, scanned the rest of the pub, trying to check for eavesdroppers. Could never be sure who was listening, especially in a place like this. ‘Got hauled in by the Slorach who made it clear one of the reasons I shouldn’t go kicking off about Davey Robertson was because SACS are involved in that big ned’s party.’

‘SACS are going to be involved? In what way?’ Ish’s voice had taken on that chiming note she got when getting anxious.

‘Choosing which clients get along to the Moor, apparently. Not sure yet, not got the details. How, have you been told -’

‘No, that’s the thing. We’ve not been told anything at all. That was one of the discussions on the Agenda.’

‘You have an Agenda? Fuck sake…did the X-Men ever have “Any Other Business?”’

‘God, too right we need an Agenda. Bunch of Scots in a room with superpowers, nothing would ever get done otherwise, all end up in fighting… Anyway, yeah, few of us were wondering if we should query it directly with the Fantoosh. Because no Heroes, and we’ve checked with the other regional groups, have been asked to get involved with the Gathering. It’s been made very clear it’s for people with Abilities and Abilities only and that Heroes are not invited. And, y’know we do sort of see the point of it but it also seems…dangerous.’

‘Dangerous?’ I gave a wee snort. ‘What, you thinking that if you’ve got a load of folk with Abilities without any big old Heroes to protect them they’ll end up doing themselves some kind of almighty mischief. Ish, I work with these people, I know what they’re capable of and-’

‘Oh, go take that chip off your shoulder, it’s making you all unbalanced. You’ll get some salt and vinegar from behind the bar if you ask nicely.’ I managed a witty, ‘Oooooh!’ as Ish continued. ‘I mean dangerous in that if we’re not careful it could end up reinforcing what the Knoxians are on about. About keeping everyone separate, about Heroes being superior and those with Abilities have got them because of something bad they did in a past life…God, they’re just such…bloody…fuckwits!’ 

Thankfully her outburst was localised enough only our glasses were split neatly in half by her aggressive sonics. One of the plus points of being surrounded by Heroes was that we didn’t have to faff around with paper towels or manky cloths. Instead the Time Bandit popped over and rewound our drinks to their unspilt state, Ish apologising all the while, the barman keeping a close eye on proceedings so that no one else got a free pint.

Once both of them had left us I asked, ‘So…the Knoxians. You don’t just see them as a bunch of religious nutters then? I mean, I know they’re annoying twats but to have you swearing like that…I mean, you never swear unless I’m the one winding you up.’

Ish looked so fierce I held my glass tight, hoping it wouldn’t crack again. ‘They’re worse than annoying, they’re dangerous. Poisonous. I mean, all this talk about how an Ability is a punishment, that they need to be cleansed, that Heroes are the Elect it’s just…’ and she shuddered, let out a sigh that caused her glass to rattle gently against the table in a sort of sad way, making a noise like rain falling. ‘They’re starting to have an effect.’

‘What? How’d’you mean? On Heroes?’ Ish glanced at a bat-faced boy standing at the end of the bar with big Batfink ears who looked away when she caught his eye. A humming sound began to envelop my head. ‘Ish…’

‘It’s fine, just giving us some sonic protection. Stop nosy buggers like him listening in…I know how it looks from the outside, that all our Scottish Superheroes are doing our best to stick together, present a united front and everything. And yeah, you’ve got the bad guys, the Gorbals Vampire and the Haar, those idiots Bleezin’ Squad but mostly things are under control but honestly…you have no idea the amount of work, the negotiating that has to go into keeping egos in check.’ Ish rubbed her eyes. ‘I mean yeah, everyone thought it was a big deal when the Flying Hun and the Feenian did that flypast for the Big Firm match but the amount of sponsorship they got for that meant it was easy to set up. It’s the wee things that cause the problems. The gossip, someone hearing how someone is always being hired to open supermarkets, rumours about how that double-decker wasn’t really veering out of control, that someone’s publicist was a passenger…anyway, what I’m saying is some Heroes seem to be getting the impression that there’s only so much do-gooding opportunity to go around. And that people with Abilities are starting to dilute things…make things harder for us. So when the Knoxians start bigging us up and going on about repenting…’

‘Big ears start to listen,’ and I nodded in Bat Boy’s direction. 

Ish nodded, rubbing her temples and yeah, I felt sorry for her but there was also this voice at the back of my head going, ‘Well, you were the one who went to Skye, didn’t you? With your “friend”. During our “break”. And if you will go trying to pet wild seals…’ 

Ish carried on, softly, almost speaking to herself, ‘You know, when the Change happened, when it happened to me, part of my way of dealing with it, with coping, was by thinking, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this to such a cynical old cow as you -’

‘Hey, less of the old!’ 

‘- I actually thought it would make us better, y’know? Some of us becoming remarkable. By becoming superhuman I thought we’d become more…humane.’

I gave a nasty wee laugh. 

‘Yeah. Exactly,’ and her tone depressed the hell out of me. It was alright for me to be cynical but Ish… ‘I mean, it’s not that bad. Just at meetings I’m starting to hear one or two comments along the lines of ‘Well, why should they be entitled to benefits?’ or ‘Why don’t they start living elsewhere for a change?’ 

‘What? But they’re supposed to be helping people. With great power comes great responsibility and all that shite.’

‘Listen, you don’t have to convince me…but some are saying we need clearer, stricter guidelines on what makes a Hero. Boiling down to keeping those with Abilities off what they see as our patch.’

And hearing that caused something inside me to flip. What with Katy and Davey and those bloody Knoxians, ‘Ish how can you stand being round these people? How can you sit in a room with those arrogant twats and listen to that shite,’ which was when I became aware the humming around me had stopped, that the sonic protection Ish had provided had lifted, that a noisy pub had gone very, very quiet. And how Ish was staring at me, as if the only thing holding her back from throwing her G & T in my face was the trouble she’d cause with the barman.

‘Because, Cath, they are my people now. Yeah, they spout some rubbish but they’ve a better sense of loyalty than some people.’

‘Aww, come on. Don’t start, we’ve been through this -’

‘Yeah, and it doesn’t get any better does it.’ She downed the rest of her drink, dunting her glass on the table. ‘The one time when I really needed you, really needed help…’

‘Ish, I don’t know if you noticed but I did have a few other things to be worried about, what with Mum and then Dad disappearing and you were the one who decided you needed space, went up to Skye with that Sarah, patted that fucking seal -’

‘Right, that’s it, I’ve had enough. You’ll never change, will you Cathy, ever,’ and she stood up, hauling her old school-bag onto her shoulder which looked even tattier than usual in contrast with the Selkie outfit. Nearly knocking over her glass she then hit herself against a passing table, hard enough I knew she’d have a bruise there in the morning. ‘Oops, sorr-’  she started then remembered she was supposed to be storming out in a huff, a path clearing in front of her as she headed for the exit, no one wanting to get in the way of an angry Silver Selkie. She’d burst your eardrums, collapse a lung, ruin your iPod at the very least.

‘Well…that went well,’ I muttered before calling to the door swinging shut, ‘Ish, wait, I didn’t -’ 

By the time I got up to follow her the path she’d made had vanished, replaced by a bunch of pissed-off folk in masks and spandex staring at me with their arms folded. I’d forgotten how touchy those Hero types could be when you upset one of their pals but decided to play it cool, tried to lighten the mood with humour. ‘Alright guys? Bit of a domestic there, nothing to worry about. Is there not a nuclear reactor or a bus with a load of kids heading off a bridge you should be saving?’ 

The silence that followed was so deathly it could have been handed a costume and upgraded to Supervillain status. So I started shoving instead. ‘So yeah, if I could squeeze past…s’cuse me…go see how…ah, yup, mind…Ish is doing…can I…ta.’

I’d got close enough to the exit to think I was going to make it out without being turned into ash or a frog or whatever when there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned slowly, not to build up tension but because the place was so tightly packed with humpty Heroes, I didn’t have the space to turn quick. Once I’d made it round I was staring into the narrow yellow eyes of a nasty-looking human-sized upright wildcat, ears flat against its skull, flashing tiny pointy teeth perfectly designed for ripping the fur off furry animals. Or bolshy civil servants. 

Its clinging fake leopardskin tracksuit was tight enough for me to see she was most definitely a she. This would be Wildcat then, letting out a hiss. Ish had talked about her when we were still together, saying how she thought this pussy was getting too friendly at meetings, me thinking she was maybe wanting a good stroking. Not the best Hero to bump into if you’ve just caused their crush to leave close to tears so naturally I found myself saying, ‘Hey, there’s the Cat Protection place round the corner down Peep O’Day Lane. Maybe they could sort you out with that furball problem you’ve got.’ 

Which resulted in my t-shirt being grabbed by a whole load of claws, her yowling in my face, pushing me back until I was against the door, a handle thudding into my back. But I still managed, ‘Christ, if you’re needing help with your kitty litter changed, you just need to ask,’ because honestly, I was past the point of caring.

I’d expected Wildcat to sound rough, feral-like, but instead she was posh, like she spent her time running around country estates. ‘Cathy Burns…oh yes, we know who you are, what you think of us, how you treated the Selkie.’

‘Here, now, wait a minute, there are two sides to every -’ but she pushed her claws further through the fabric until they scratched and I was sure I felt blood trickle down my chest. When she spoke again there was a purr to her voice which made me feel even less comfortable. ‘The Silver Selkie is one of the best of us. Her singing…the happiness and sadness in it…she gives us a voice,’ and there was this sigh from the Heroes gathered behind her. They had this wistful look and I was sure I caught a brief melody floating, like a dream of one of Ish’s songs, and I felt a wee burst of pride. Followed by being pissed off that every Tom-cat and Superfreak knew about us splitting up and blamed me. 

The Wildcat gave herself a cute wee shake and as I wondered how she’d react if I reached up and tickled her between her ears – probably rip my fingers off – she leant in close, her breath hot and meaty, ‘If we hear you’ve done anything to hurt her…’ She released her grip, reached up, trailed a claw along my chin, let it catch the skin, was up against my ear, tickling.  ‘Think of what’s happened to some of your clients. If you don’t want something similar happening to you, you’ll stay out of the Selkie’s way.’

Can you call a cat a bitch? I stared over Wildcat’s shoulder, saw Batfink boy’s ears twitching like mad. I recognised the Stalker, the guy with the flaming antlers, nervously fiddling with his walking stick, the Human Volcano, granite faced, his ginger hair glowing red hot, clutching his pint that wasn’t in a glass but a special stone beaker to stop it melting. The tapping noise was Metal Ned drumming his fingers on the bar and although I wasn’t sure who the wispy blonde girl was standing next to him, the way her hair occasionally frizzed out, crackles of white electricity running over her I suspected she was Lightning Strike. 

‘Listen,’ I said, raising my voice, telling them all. ‘The Selkie and I are friends. I care about her as much as any of you here. And how d’you think she’d react to this, eh? With all her work to make sure that Heroes keep a decent reputation? Think she’d be impressed?’ 

There was a murmuring, the Wildcat’s eyes going shifty, ears pricking up, tuning in to the discontent brewing behind her. 

‘No, I don’t think so either,’ and I batted the cat’s paws away, held out my t-shirt to her, ‘I’ll be sending you the bill, best cut back on the cat-nip,’ and wrenching the door open, I tried to ignore the prickling of my back, waiting for ten small steel pins to rip down it.

But I was out and I was fine, taking a breather in the entrance way as the door slammed behind me. Until I saw the poster. 

Couldn’t very well not see it. Bright acid-house yellow with a cartoon version of my brother on it, a cartoon I’d drawn of him despite knowing it would sustain his sad delusion that he was some superstar DJ advertising his next club night. He was in full Chunky Funkster mode, sunflower shades on, big orange afro, cape flying out behind him, his decks in front with daffodils and fireworks and smiling suns flying off them and I was smiling at the psychedelic daftness of it until I read what was scrawled across it. 

‘Fucking bastards!’ I shouted, tearing it off the wall and part of me wanted to head back in there to try and take one of them out, pull the Wildcat’s whiskers off her. But I’m Normal and they’re Heroes and I wouldn’t last two minutes so I headed off to find Ish, tell her what the Wildcat said, show her exactly what her kind thought of the rest of us.