The year is 2009, and I’m at a rooftop bar sharing drinks and appetizers with Alvina Ling, a friend of mine and an editor at Little, Brown. I don’t know it yet, but this is the meeting at which the idea for I Hunt Killers will be born.
But first, Alvina asks what I’m working on. I tell her about “the book that will kill me,” and then I mention something else. Something I’m really excited about. It’s a romance, but between a teenaged vigilante and the super-hero who annoys the hell out of her. It’s called Super-Her (come on!) and I’m really enjoying working on it.
Alvina’s not interested. But something she says that night sparks the idea for I Hunt Killers and the next thing you know, Super-Her is wiped away.
But hey — there’s still a file on my hard drive. And here’s the very beginning of that story…
And then — thirty stories up — the rope broke and Lindsay knew that she was going to die a stupid death, just like her mother promised she would.
Her mother’s exact words had been, “Oh, honey, are you sure you have to do this? You’re going to end up dying in some foolish way.”
Lindsay had been sure she had to “do this,” “this” being dress up in a two-tone black-and-forest green costume made of leather and a special mutant species of bulletproof Spectra, strap on a belt loaded with the latest in crimefighting gear, and head out into the Charm City nights to wreak havoc on those who would break the law.
Being a costumed crime fighter (or a “hapless vigilante,” if you listened to certain radio shows) was nothing new in Charm City. The city had four or five of them already, and other cities — Gotham, Las Estrellas, Steelton, Stone City, Nirvanopolis — boasted many times that number. But Lindsay was different — unlike those other heroes, she had no super-powers on her side, just an array of gadgets and gear that allowed her to spy on crooks, knock out men many times her own size, and swing from building to building along the Charm City skyline.
She managed that swinging thanks to a special powered grappling gun that was rated to hold over 500 pounds. And even though Lindsay had splurged on skim milk in her latte all week and not the usual non-fat, she was still pretty sure she weighed nowhere near 500 pounds.
But the line snapped anyway, thirty stories straight up the north face of the Global Trade Tower, halfway between the roof and street sauce. In the split second it took for gravity to manhandle her, Lindsay thought of her mother, of her sister, of her brother, of her costume, of her gear, of the 500 pounds, and found herself still thirty floors up…
…and then the plunge began.
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