Nightingale

by Jennifer Estep

  Her dark eyes flicked to Bandit. The ubervillain smiled.

  “I told you she’d figured it out,” he said.

  Octavia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter that she has, does it?”

  Bandit smiled and shook his head. More fear piled onto the hard, cold knot in my stomach.

  “But I thought Tycoon was a man,” I said. “You’re … not.”

  “My father, Otto, was the original Tycoon,” Octavia said. “I took his place last year.”

  Last year? That was when I planned his funeral. “Your father didn’t drown in a boating accident, did he?”

  Octavia’s smile was all the answer I needed. The cruel curve of her crimson lips frightened me more than Bandit’s guns. “I presented my father with a plan that would have made us billions, far more than his penny ante drug and gambling rings, but he didn’t want to act on it. So I decided it was time for a management change.”

  “What plan?” I asked.

  “Sunrise, of course,” Octavia snapped. “You have the flash drive, don’t pretend like you don’t know what’s on it.”

  “But I don’t know,” I said, trying to draw things out so I could keep breathing. “I couldn’t open the files.”

  “But you recognized the names,” Octavia said.

  “They’re just names for different colors of makeup. Who cares about makeup?”

  Octavia’s eyes darkened, and I realized my mistake. She cared about makeup. A whole hell of a lot—enough to kill me for insulting her.

  “You know what, baby?” Octavia turned to Bandit. “Instead of standing here talking in circles, let’s show Abby exactly what she’s going to die for.”

  Bandit smiled again.

  #

  The two of them exchanged another kiss, then Bandit hauled me to my feet. He let go of me, and I crumpled back to the floor. Bandit dug his boot into my ribs. I gasped and jerked away.

  “If you fall again, I’ll put a bullet in your spine.” His voice was cool and casual.

  “Not up here,” Octavia admonished. “I just had the carpets cleaned.”

  Octavia strolled out of the conference room, and Bandit pushed me along behind her. I recognized the hallway. Even if I hadn’t, the red lips hanging on the wall would have clued me in—I was in Oomph’s corporate headquarters. I’d come up to this floor several times to speak to Octavia while planning the engagement party and dinner for Olivia and Paul Potter.

  “What about Olivia?” I asked. “Does she know about you?”

  “Olivia does what she’s told,” Octavia scoffed. “If I hadn’t needed her to marry Paul to add the appearance of legitimacy to my takeover of Polish, I would have dumped her overboard with my father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  As we walked, I peered into the offices that branched off the hallway, hoping someone was working late. But the offices were all as dark and empty as Octavia’s soul.

  She pushed the button to summon the elevator. “Peter Potter likes to drink, and when he’s drunk, he likes to gamble. He was into my father for millions.”

  “And Polish was the payoff?”

  Octavia nodded. “We were going to handle the merger quietly, but then Wesley Weston made a play for Polish.”

  Wesley. My heart twisted. I could still smell him on me, still feel his lips on mine. I should have told him how I felt about him, even if he’d rejected me, because now, I’d never get the chance.

  I realized Octavia was staring at me, waiting for a response. “So you forced Olivia and Paul to get engaged so no one would question the merger too much.”

  She nodded. The elevator pinged! its arrival, hurting my ears, and Bandit crowded me inside. Octavia stepped in after him and hit another button, followed by a code on a keypad to one side of the door.

  We went down. When the doors opened again, we stepped out into a lab. Everything was white plastic, from the walls and floors to the counters running down either side of the room. Trays sat on the counters, every single one full of eye shadows, lipsticks, blushes, and more. Every inch of space shimmered with color, from soft pinks to aqua blues to plumy purples. There was enough makeup to cover every woman’s face in Bigtime.

  Bandit shoved me forward. Octavia strolled in front of us and threw her arms out wide.

  “This is where the magic happens,” she said in a proud voice.

  Magic. Right.

  We walked about halfway down one of the counters, before Octavia stopped and swept her hand out again.

  “And this,” she said, “is Sunrise.”

  A black-and-white cardboard display embossed with Oomph’s red lips perched on the counter. The display framed several makeup products, all encased in black plastic—a lipstick, a bottle of liquid foundation, pressed powder compact, eye shadow, eye- and lip-liner pencils, blush, mascara. My eyes caught on the names. Brown Betty foundation. Raven eye shadow. Quicksilver eyeliner.

  I looked at Octavia, who watched me, waiting for a reaction. “But it’s just makeup.”

  What was so sinister about that? The worst thing you could do was poke your eye out with a mascara wand. What about it was worth killing me for?

  “It’s not just any makeup,” Octavia said. “It’s a very special blend. New versions of old, beloved products. I called the collection Sunrise because that’s our signature red lipstick.”

  She uncapped the lipstick and twisted it up. The Sunrise red shade was pretty enough with a soft, shimmer finish, but it smelled—bad. Like rotten eggs mixed with sweaty gym socks. I realized it was the same lipstick, with the same putrid odor, that had made my nose burn at Oodles o’ Stuff when Piper had showed it to me.

  “Go ahead, Abby,” Octavia said, holding the tube out to me.

  I shook my head and backed away as far as I could. I wasn’t touching that stuff.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to freshen up?”

  “She can smell it,” Bandit said. “Just like I can.”

  “Oh. I forgot she has supersenses.”

  I stared at the tube. “What’s in that?”

  “Oh, the usual ingredients. Beeswax, various dyes and pigments, and just a hint of euphoridon.”

  I blinked. “Euphoridon. But that’s—”

  “A radioactive drug,” Octavia finished. “A very addictive one. Euphoridon is what most of the junkies down on Good Intentions Lane get strung out on.”

  “And you put it in makeup? Why?”

  “To get women hooked on it, of course,” she replied, capping the lipstick. “So they crave it. So they buy Oomph makeup and nothing else without even realizing what they’re doing or what’s happening to them.”

  “That’s why you gave away all those free samples at the engagement party,” I accused. “You were trying to get people hooked on it then.”

  Octavia stared at me. “You really are too smart for your own good, Abby. Actually, those were just trial samples. Primers, if you will, of some of our best-selling products with just a hint of euphoridon in them to whet people’s appetites for more. Subconsciously, of course. My market share will double in the first week alone when the Sunrise makeup hits the market. Within a month, I’ll have a stranglehold on the industry and be ready to launch a new lip-care line, with the help of Polish.”

  The way Octavia talked you would have thought she was discussing the weather, not the massive addiction of every makeup-using woman in Bigtime. There wasn’t much I could say. Still, I tried to think of something because the longer I kept talking, the greater the chances were of me coming up with a brilliant plan to escape. I opened my mouth to respond, when a faint yip caught my ear.

  My heart froze. Rascal? What would he be doing here? I cocked my head and listened—really listened. The yip came again, followed by another, and another, until a whole chorus of dogs yapped together.

  “The dogs are howling again,” Bandit said.

  Octavia rolled her eyes. “Well, we won’t need them much longer. One more test, and the lab coats tell me we can st
art mass producing the Sunrise makeup. Then, we can sit back and wait for the money to roll in.”

  “Hopefully I’ll have a little more time to deal with the animals,” Bandit said. “Instead of dumping them in an alley for the police to find.”

  “That was your fault,” she hissed. “If Talon hadn’t slipped past your so-called security team—”

  “Wait a minute. You tested your radioactive makeup on animals?” I asked, remembering what Wesley, what Talon had told me, and his suspicions about Rascal. “Those puppies and kittens they showed on SNN? You killed them?”

  “I had to test it on something,” Octavia said. “The police tend to notice when people go missing.”

  “And my dog? Rascal, was he one of yours?”

  “Unfortunately,” Octavia glared at Bandit. “Letting him get away was another one of your slipups.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” he growled back. “The little bastard bit me, and I dropped him. I took a couple of shots at him, but he was quicker than I thought he’d be, thanks to all that euphoridon your lab coats shot him up with.”

  The two of them started arguing, but I tuned them out. Red rage colored my vision like the gloss on Octavia’s perfect lips. Little bastard? Little bastard? Rascal was the best dog in the world. Oh sure, he barked and begged for food and generally thought he was the king of Bigtime and should be treated as such. But Rascal had more humanity in his tail than the two of them did in their entire bodies. Bandit was the bastard, and Octavia was an ice-cold bitch. They had to be stopped. Both of them.

  But how? And with what? If I’d had my vest, I at least would have had my stun gun. I might have taken Octavia out with that before Bandit shot me. But I’d left the vest back at the party with Piper. Without my vest, without my supplies, I felt naked, exposed, helpless.

  And it wasn’t like there were any weapons just lying around in the lab. Just lipsticks, powders, and mascara wands as far as the eye could see. Just makeup. My gaze flicked to the Sunrise display.

  Radioactive makeup.

  While Octavia and Bandit argued, I palmed a lip pencil with one hand. With the other, I swiped the pot of loose face powder.

  “Enough!” Octavia snapped. “None of this is getting us what we really want—the flash drive.”

  They both turned their attention to me.

  “Now you have a choice to make, Abby,” Octavia said. “You can tell me where the drive is and who you’ve told about it, and Bandit can kill you quickly.”

  The ubervillain pulled out one of his pistols and twirled it in his hand. Light danced off the silver weapon. “Three in the back of the head. You won’t feel a thing.”

  Yeah. Right.

  “Or?” I asked, pretty sure I wasn’t going to like Option Two any better than Option One.

  “Or,” Octavia continued, “you can refuse to talk, and Bandit can draw out the process.

  He kept spinning his gun. “I’ll start with your ankles. Then, your knees. Your hips. Shoulders. You can put quite a few bullets in the human body before irreparable damage is done. Although, you’ll wish you were dead after the first shot.”

  This time I believed him.

  “It’s your choice,” Octavia said. “Now make it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I drew in a deep breath. “All right. I’ll tell you where the flash drive is. There’s no need to torture me.”

  Octavia smiled. “I always thought you were reasonable.”

  I dropped my head and edged toward her, as if I was totally beaten. It was such a Rascal thing to do, looking defeated and begging for sympathy before springing into action. Octavia smirked at Bandit. I tightened my grip on my flimsy weapons.

  “Well?” Octavia demanded. “Where is it? Where have you hidden the drive?”

  I raised my head and looked into her cold, merciless eyes. “Up your ass, bitch.”

  I brought my hand up and rammed the lip pencil into her right shoulder. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but I put plenty of force behind it. The pencil punctured her arm, sinking into her flesh. Coppery blood spurted out from the wound, and the odor of sulfur intensified as the euphoridon seeped into Octavia’s system.

  Octavia screamed. I snapped the pencil off and stabbed her arm again with the broken tip. Bandit cursed and raised his gun. I grabbed Octavia’s shoulders, spun her around, and shoved her into the ubervillain. Then, I popped the top off the face powder I’d swiped and blew into it as hard as I could. A cloud of euphoridon crystals erupted from the container. Bandit cursed as the powder flooded his eyes. He banged into Octavia, and the two of them fell to the floor.

  “Get her!” Octavia screamed. “Get that bitch!”

  I dropped the face powder, turned, and ran.

  #

  I sprinted through the lab as fast as I could. For once, I didn’t even think about the sandals pinching my feet. If I did that, I’d slow down, and then, I’d be dead.

  A door was at the far end of the room. I sprinted toward it, slammed my hand into the bar, barged through the opening, and kept going. Bullets banged into the closing door. A few pieces of hot lead pierced the metal and pinged! down the hall after me. I screamed and kept running.

  I went through two more long, narrow rooms, both containing more makeup counters and scientific equipment, before my legs couldn’t run anymore. I slowed to a shuffle and listened for jangling, booted footsteps behind me. I didn’t hear any, but I kept moving, determined to put as much space between me, Bandit, and Octavia as possible.

  I went through another door and found myself in a gray hallway. I went right and came to another branch. I zigged and zagged through the underground maze, going right and right, then left, left, left, trying to take the least logical route possible so Bandit wouldn’t find me. I saw another door, went through it, and emerged into what looked like a basement. Lots of metal walls. Lots of concrete beams. Lots of cardboard boxes. No weapons. No way out.

  I couldn’t go back and risk running into Bandit, so I moved farther into the basement. The yips and yaps of the animals I’d heard before grew louder. The sounds tugged at my heart, but I pushed the feeling aside. I couldn’t help the poor creatures right now. I could barely help myself.

  I turned a corner, and my gaze snagged on a red box—a fire alarm. I didn’t know if it would do any good, but I yanked the alarm. Sirens blared, reverberating through the building. I winced at the noise. Maybe I could run or hide until the fire department arrived.

  I limped along, my eyes sweeping over everything. It was dark here, with only a few weak bulbs flickering on the concrete walls, but the lack of light didn’t bother me. With my enhanced eyesight, I could see as clearly as if it were noon. Piper was right. I was going to do great things with my supersenses—like save myself.

  I spotted a bit of color ahead and picked up my pace. An Exit sign glowed red about two hundred feet away. A sweet, sweet Exit sign.

  I’d just touched the door when the fire alarm quit blaring. The sudden, abrupt silence made my head spin. Bandit must have told building security it was just a false alarm. He’d probably called the fire department too, which meant no one would be coming to help. Damn.

  I shoved open the Exit door, and a flight of stairs greeted me. I started climbing. Up, up, up, as fast as I could. My sandals rang on every step, the sound echoing to the top of the stairwell and back down. I didn’t care how loud I was being or how much the noise hurt my aching head. Seven flights later, I spotted a door marked Lobby.

  I didn’t barge through this door as I had the others because I had a sneaking suspicion Bandit and Octavia would be waiting for me on the other side. They might have lost me in the labyrinth of underground chambers, but they knew I’d try to find a way out and that I’d head up to the lobby. If I were them, that’s where I’d be waiting.

  So, I climbed up another flight of stairs to the first floor. I put my ear to the door, but I couldn’t hear anything over my own ragged breathing. Bandit could be waiting on the other side, gun
pointed, his finger on the trigger. I couldn’t tell, not even with my supersenses. I’d just have to risk it.

  Putting my hand on the bar, I cracked open the door and winced as it squeaked. I slipped through. The door whispered shut behind me, but it sounded as loud as a drum to my ears. I moved away from it.

  Much like the Weston building, the first few floors of Oomph’s headquarters wrapped around an open lobby. Three staircases set equidistance apart from each other led to the upper floors. Potted palms, fichus trees, and other greenery decorated the lobby itself, while a pair of red lips about a hundred feet wide dangled from the ceiling near the elevator bank. The lips swung ever so slightly, the cable holding them to the ceiling groaning with every movement.

  I crept through the hallway to the closest set of stairs. My eyes snagged on another fire alarm. I thought about pulling it again but didn’t want to give away my position. I had no qualms, though, about opening the glass case and removing the fire extinguisher inside.

  Makeshift weapon in hand, I eased over to the left staircase. A frosted glass railing ran between it and the wall. I dropped to my knees and crawled along, stopping as I reached a cut-out lip in the glass. I peered through the clear pane into the lobby below.

  Everything seemed to be normal. There was no sign of Octavia, Bandit, or any other goons. Not even a security guard sat at the front desk. Maybe I’d lucked out—

  A flash of silver caught my eye, and I looked—really looked—at it. Sure enough, Bandit stood half-hidden behind a palm tree in the shadows. I wouldn’t have seen him at all, except for the gleam bouncing off his gun. I scanned the rest of the lobby, but didn’t see Octavia. She had to be lurking around somewhere, though.

  I bit my lip. There was no way I could get past Bandit without him putting a bullet in my back, but there was no point in going up to another floor. The lobby was the only exit I knew of out of the building. I sure wasn’t going back down to the lab again. Maybe I could just hide in one of the bathrooms until morning, then sneak out when the commuters came in—