Free Nightingale by Jennifer Estep Page A

the drapes this time instead of yanking them wide open. “Except it looks like it snowed a couple feet last night. Nothing’s going on.”
    I didn’t see any cars in the street, except for the ones covered up past their wheels in the white stuff. None of the usual vendors populated the corner. No taxis, no one going to work or church. Even the city’s numerous pigeons hunkered down in the eaves on the side of the building. I didn’t see any tracks where a plow might have bulldozed through.  
    “Let’s see what the news folks are saying.”  
    I turned the TV to SNN. In addition to being devoted to all things hero and villain, the round-the-clock news channel was also the go-to source for information in the city.  
    “Can you turn it up?” Talon asked. “I can’t quite hear it over here.”
    “Oh. Sure.”
    I cranked up the volume, wincing as the SNN theme music blared on and added to the ache in my skull. A news anchor with a tan face and a bad toupee smiled into the camera.
    “Well, folks, this is one Bigtime snowstorm we’ve woken up to this morning. Heh, heh, heh. The city received almost three feet of snow overnight. Chief Sean Newman of the Bigtime Police Department has ordered all businesses shut down for the day while plows clear the streets. We go out live now to Kelly Caleb, who’s made her way to Paradise Park. Kelly, what’s the situation?”
    The camera cut to a blond woman wearing a fuchsia snow suit, gloves, and a toboggan with a fuzzy ball on the end of it. She smiled, her perfect teeth whiter even than the dazzling snow around her.
    “Well, Steve, I’m live in Paradise Park, which has become a winter wonderland today …”
    Kelly talked about the record amount of snow the city had received and how everything was canceled because of it. I was grateful the O’Hara-Potter party had taken place yesterday instead of being scheduled for tonight. My next event, one of the Berkley Brighton memorial dedications, wasn’t until Tuesday, which should be enough time for the city to dig itself out.
    A noise on the TV caught my attention. A shimmering blur zoomed by Kelly, sending sprays of snow up around her before suddenly stopping. Swifte, another one of Bigtime’s many superheroes, beamed into the camera. Usually, Swifte took center stage with his flashy white costume, but today he faded into the snowy background.
    “Hey, Kelly, what’s happening?” Swifte asked.
    Kelly looked over her shoulder and ducked. A large snowball zoomed over her head and smacked into Swifte’s chest.  
    A trilling laugh floated through the TV, and the cameraman swung his lens around to a woman wearing an ice-blue suit. A giant snowflake flashed like a strobe light on the front of her costume. Wynter. Another one of the city’s heroes whose icy powers were just what her name suggested.
    “Hi, Wynter.” Kelly smiled at the superhero. “I thought we might see you out and about today.”
    “I do love this kind of weather,” the superhero purred. “And I love snowball fights even more. What do you say, Swifte?”
    The other superhero dusted the snow off his costume. “Sure. Just don’t come crying to me when you lose.”
    Wynter held out her hands. Blue flames formed on her palms, before turning into two snowballs. “Care to make a friendly wager on that?”
    Swifte grinned. “Always.”
    The two heroes spent the next few minutes lobbing snowballs at each other, while Kelly gave the play-by-play action. Swifte was faster, throwing the balls at the speed of light, but Wynter had an ace up her sleeve—her superpower. While Swifte lobbed fist-sized snowballs at her, she summoned a giant one on the hill behind him. Gravity did the rest. The ball bounced down the rise, picking up more snow with every roll. Swifte never saw it coming. The enormous mound landed on top of the superhero, picked him up, and kept right on going toward the park’s Ferris wheel. All you could see of Swifte were his legs sticking out of