Hardly a night had gone by since Leah had discovered that she could fly that she hadn't flown. She could hardly believe her good fortune. She'd gained a power she'd dreamed of all her life. There were other gifts as well--strength and invulnerability. Gifts which were arguably more practical, but they paled in comparison to flight.

The night sky over Portland was dark, cold and silent. When Leah simply maintained her altitude, letting the wind push her where it would, it was also eerily still. From that great height none of the individual details of the city were visible. Portland was reduced to abstract linear patterns of light and color that reminded Leah of nothing so much as circuit boards. The glittering patterns of light stretched east and west, sharply bounded by the Columbia River flowing west to the Pacific, split by the Willamette flowing north to join the Columbia. Sometimes Leah simply drifted, studying the view and reveling in her freedom.

Closer to earth the view was different. Individual structures became visible. Downtown high rises, warehouses, huge parking lots dotted with street lights. The occasional green arc of a baseball field to provide a sense of scale. Highways showed as endless chains of red or white lights inching along below her. Sometimes she swooped silently among the high rise buildings of the city, or above the streets of residential areas. Occasionally she landed on a rooftop and simply and watched and listened to the people going about their lives on the ground below.

At the moment Leah was flying fairly slowly over downtown. She was dressed in her flying outfit. Black sneakers, jeans and long-sleeved shirt, the better to remain unseen in the dark. A black fabric mask tied in the back concealed most of her face.
A crash from below caught Leah's attention. Something large and dark arced from the window of a high-rise office building trailed by the glitter of shattered glass. The ground shook when the safe crashed into the pavement in the midst of traffic. Brake lights flared. Tires squealed, horns blared and the sound of metal crumpling as vehicles collided drifted through the night air.

A human figure leaped out of the shattered window and plummeted to the street below. He--it was a young man--slammed ungracefully to the ground, bounced, rolled and came to his feet, arms spread wide like a performer. “I'm okay!” he announced to the onlookers.

“Oh god,” Leah muttered. “Another costumed idiot.”

Leah plunged earthward, landing lightly not far from where the kid--he was eighteen, maybe, nineteen tops--was struggling to pry open the safe door. He had curly black hair, a porn star mustache and he was wearing a billowing, long-sleeved white shirt suitable for a pirate movie or a Ren Faire. Jeans and sneakers and a bright red satin sash around his waist. Black gloves and a Zorro-style mask completed the look.

“What the hell are you doing?” Leah demanded.

The kid turned his head abruptly to stare at her for a moment. “What does it look like I'm doing? I'm robbing Ingolf & Devore. There's a fortune in jewels and cash in here--”

“By throwing the safe out a window? You could have killed somebody!”

“Eh,” the kid said, shrugging his shoulders. “It's a tough old world.”

His utter indifference to the possibility infuriated Leah. She launched herself at him, intending to seize him in a bear hug and drag him into the air so he had no leverage to resist. He reacted with surprising speed. A swift open-handed blow caught Leah in the face, smashing her to the pavement. She wasn't really hurt, but it was so surprising that Leah stared up at him for a moment.

He grinned and wagged an admonishing finger at Leah. “Now, now--that's just a taste, doll. Don't mess with me, or I'll bust you up.”

“Better men than you have tried,” Leah said, drifting to her feet. It was pure bravado. She hadn't actually had a fight since high school. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

That got under his skin. Surprise flickered across his face, followed by annoyance. He scowled for a moment. Then he hopped up onto the safe and posed--he actually put his fists on his hips and thrust out his chest. “Don't you know who I am, bitch? I'm Black Guard!”

“Black Guard?” Leah asked. “Black Guard?” Then it clicked. She laughed. “Blackguard,” she said. “It's pronounced 'blaggard,' kid.”

“Whatever,” the kid--Blackguard--announced imperiously. “Shut up!”

Leah kicked the safe, knocking him off-balance. As he fell forward, Leah belted him. He flew off, cartwheeling through the air to hit the side of a building with an audible crack.

A cheer went up. Startled, Leah glanced around, discovering that they'd drawn a crowd. Leah shook her head. They ought to be running, not standing around watching. She flew after Blackguard, who sat up and shook his head. Leah landed nearby. “I don't suppose you want to give up now?” she asked.

Blackguard's lip curled in a sneer. He scrambled to his feet, seemingly unhurt, taking up a fighting stance. “Oh, I don't think so. It's on now, bitch!”

He hurled himself at Leah, who was happy to let him grapple with her. Leah wrapped her arms around him and flew upward swiftly. The farther she got him from the crowd, the better.

Blackguard realized what she was doing and objected blasphemously. Leah ignored his complaints, as well as the blows he threw. With his arms pinned in a bear hug, he had little leverage--not enough to do any real damage. By the time she'd risen above the rooftops he'd figured that out and resorted to another tactic. He leaned in to kiss her, a vigorous, open-mouthed kiss with lots of tongue.

“Gah!” Shocked by the sudden, unwanted intimacy, Leah turned her face away, relaxing her hold on him.

Blackguard followed up with a brutal head butt and wrenched himself free of her grip. He gave her an insolent little salute as he fell, apparently utterly unconcerned by the looming impact.

He slammed into the pavement, only to bounce back up to his feet and bound over to the safe. He resumed trying to tear it open, but managed only to twist and break the handle and the combination dial. He snarled and kicked the safe.

Leah drifted down behind him. "Did you really think that was going to work?"

Blackguard spared a moment to glare over his shoulder at her. "Shut up!"

Leah reached for his arm. Blackguard evaded her grab. A flurry of blows drove her back, disoriented but unhurt. She snatched at his shirt, grabbing a handful of material. Rather than resist, Blackguard lunged forward when she pulled. He drove her back with blows to her head and torso that flew faster than she could follow. A final kick to her midsection pushed her off balance. She fell on her ass, uninjured but disoriented.

Blackguard bounced on the balls of his feet, hands raised, ready for more. Leah launched herself from a crouch, trying to catch him offguard and tackle him. He twisted aside, a hammer blow to the side of her head deflecting her into the side of a parked Caravan. Sheet metal crumpled and the vehicle rocked heavily as she bounced off. "Shit," Leah muttered. She was on her hands and knees by the side of the car.

She sensed movement, too late to avoid a kick to the ribs. It drove her into the side of the SUV again, collapsing the door and shattering the windows. Blackguard didn't let up this time. Punches and kicks rained down on Leah without respite. She tried to block, to strike back, but Blackguard's defense was offense.

He didn't try to block or dodge, he hit first instead. Repeatedly. He kept her on the defensive, always reacting, never able to formulate a response before he hit her again. Leah stopped reacting, unable to break out of the pattern. She simply endured until Blackguard stepped back, panting.

For all the effort he'd expended, Blackguard hadn't actually injured her. His smug grin slipped a little when Leah drifted up to her feet again. She was glad to see his confidence shaken a little. Hers certainly had been.

She hadn't laid a hand on him yet. If he were strong enough to hurt her, he'd have kicked her ass by now. They both knew that; she could see the knowledge in his eyes. She could also see the awareness that he hadn't.

"Ready to give up yet?" Leah asked.

Blackguard's amused smile aggravated her. "Are you kidding? I can do this all night." Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. "Or not."

He threw a frowning glance at the safe and sighed in annoyance. Then he flashed a grin at Leah. "Well, time to go!"

Leah took a step closer. "I'm not going to let you--"

Blackguard turned and vaulted the hood of a nearby Jeep. Leah flew after him. He charged the nearest knot of bystanders, who scattered at his approach. He seized a young woman by the arm. She was in her mid-twenties, in jeans and a blouse. Ignoring her efforts to pull free, he spun to face Leah, pulling the woman into position between them.

The woman stared up at Leah, terror on her face. "Help me!"

“Let her go,” Leah said. She landed again, closer to Blackguard and his hostage, her own stomach knotting. She wasn't prepared or trained for this. What if someone got hurt because of her?

"Stay back!" Blackguard backed away from Leah, dragging his captive along. The crowd around them retreated. The sirens were closer.

Leah took a step forward. "I won't let you leave with her."

"I'm not taking her anywhere. You want her? Then catch her!"

Blackguard lifted the woman off the ground and spun in place once like a discus thrower before flinging the screaming woman down the street. She sailed overhead, flailing in panic, screaming.

Leah clamped a lid on her outrage and flew off in pursuit of the woman. Her screams cut off when Leah caught up to her, crashing into her in her haste. The impact knocked the wind out of the woman, but it was better than letting her slam into a building or fall to the pavement. The woman clung to her, gasping and wheezing as she struggled for breath.

Leah settled to the earth again. The woman clung to her, barely able to stand. She was breathing again, crying and hysterical with fear and relief. Leah understood, but she had no time for it. She gently but firmly disengaged the woman's frantic grip. She turned back toward Blackguard--but he was no longer in sight.

She flew back to the gathered crowd, came to a stop in mid-air and addressed the bystanders. “Where did he go?” she demanded, shouting to be heard over the sirens of the arriving police vehicles. A score of arms rose to point east down Sullivan Street. Leah flew off in pursuit.

Traffic was backed up for blocks. Pedestrians and curious drivers of stalled vehicles milled below, looking up as Leah passed. She saw no sign of Blackguard. She hunted frantically, furious at him. When she saw no sign of him on the main street, she raced up and down side streets as well.

There were simply too many places he could have gone. He could be hiding in any number of buildings, or simply making his way through them, leaving her farther behind every minute. She continued looking long after she'd given up hope of actually finding him. It was infuriating and embarrassing to be beaten so easily, and then to have him give her the slip.

Leah felt helpless and stupid--but mostly stupid. She'd really screwed this up. She'd nearly gotten a bystander killed, she'd failed to catch the bad guy, and he'd not made off with the loot only because the safe was tougher than he'd thought. She was much stronger than Blackguard, tougher, and yet he'd manhandled her with humiliating ease. She'd thought she could deal with him when she stumbled across his crime, but strength alone clearly wasn't enough.

Blackguard was a long-time brawler, she guessed. Maybe trained. She'd avoided physical conflicts most of her life while he'd probably been fighting almost as long. If she intended to do this again, it suggested that she needed to learn to fight.

She returned to check up on the crime scene from high overhead. The police had things under control. The woman she'd rescued was sitting on the curb with a couple of EMTs kneeling beside her, checking her out. The police were talking to witnesses. One cop examined the safe, then looked up at the broken window.

He turned his head and Leah knew by his body language when he spotted her. He pointed at her, then at the pavement at his feet. That was clear enough. Leah hung in mid-air, pinned by his gaze. She considered just flying off. There would be nothing he could do about it. Would that be resisting arrest? Even if not, it wouldn't help her relationship with the cops in the future.

She drifted down to alight in front of him. He was roughly her age, maybe a couple of years older. Of average height, but broad shouldered, lean and fit. Short brown hair and brown eyes that had the look of having seen too much. He wore an Portland Police Bureau uniform, complete with an overstuffed equipment belt. Just above his badge was a metal plate with his name engraved in it. Sean Miller.

He'd been studying Leah while she studied him. Now he spoke. "You're the iron maiden?"

Leah blinked. "What?"

"This was you?" A slight inclination of his head directed her attention to the scene behind him.

"For certain values of 'this', yes."

"You got a name?"

"Yes."

He almost smiled. "You like to tell me what it is?"

"Not really."

He let her squirm beneath his gaze. Leah clamped her teeth firmly, resisting the impulse to fill the silence with words.

"So, Iron Maiden, tell me what happened."

"Iron Maiden?"

"I've got to call you something. You have something better in mind?"

"Not really, no." She hadn't thought about it. This wasn't how she'd intended to go public. If she went public at all. "I was passing by when a safe came flying out of that window." She pointed at it. "He could have killed somebody."

Miller didn't look. Of course, he'd already seen it. He made a noncommittal sound. "Tell me about it."

Leah did. She felt herself blushing again when she confessed to being pummeled so handily by Blackguard. If Miller found it amusing, his face didn't show it. His face didn't show much at all.

"Strength is good," he said when she was done. She had to listen carefully, he spoke softly. "But skill is good, too. You make a habit of this--" he held up a hand to stifle her objection--"if you do, you should learn some things."

"Any suggestions?"

He smiled. "I could suggest a couple of teachers, but if any hot brunettes suddenly start taking classes, it might make keeping your secret more difficult."

"Hot?"

Miller smiled again but didn't respond. "What can you tell us about this Blackguard fellow?"

Leah ignored the slight pang of disappointment when he didn't rise to the bait. "A couple of inches taller than me, black curly hair, and a cheesy mustache--"

"Define 'cheesy'."

"It looked the mustache a 70's porn star would wear."

"Watch a lot of 70's porn, do you?"

Leah glared. He bore up somehow. "What else?" he asked.

She described Blackguard's costume. "Oh, and he was young. Maybe twenty. Maybe younger. And he had blue eyes."

Baker quizzed her for a couple more minutes. He made notes in a small spiral bound notebook. He spoke again while writing, without looking up. "My sargent is coming this way. He's going to want to see your ID, or arrest you for not presenting it. But if you fly away before he gets here, there's not a lot I can do about it."

Leah looked around. A tall, thin African-American cop with ten years on Miller was heading in their direction. Leah glanced at Miller, who continued to concentrate on his note taking. "I understand. Thanks."

Leah bent her knees and leaped. The earth fell away as she kept rising. She heard a shout from below but refused to look down. Iron Maiden. It was a pretty good name, really. If she intended to play superheroine she'd have to use something. Why not that?