Better at what? This was only a consultation. She hadn’t agreed to anything yet. She could always change her mind.
They passed through the house, and she was too distracted to pay much attention to the tasteful furnishings. Larry sat at a table ringed by a giant swimming pool. Connie and Apollonia crossed the bridge as the bull shark swam in slow circles below the pristine waters.
Larry looked up from a stack of papers he was reading and smiled. “Connie! You made it.” He set the papers aside and shook her hand. It felt weird.
“That feels weird,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed.
They hugged. Awkwardly at first, but within a second or two, it all came back to them.
“It’s been too long,” he said. “We’re so glad you chose to help us. Aren’t we, Apollonia?”
“Yes,” Apollonia replied flatly. “Very happy, Lord Peril.”
They had a seat, and he started rifling through his papers again.
“Larry, I think we should—” started Connie.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Apollonia, have the chef make something. What would you like, Connie?”
“I’m fine,” she replied.
“Something to drink?”
“I could use a beer,” she admitted.
“What kind? We’re fully stocked.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Connie.
He smiled. “Oh, right. You’re not picky. Guess you can’t afford to be when you never know where you’ll be. Jeez, I missed you, Connie. You’re looking great. How long has it been?”
“Ten years,” she said. “Larry—”
“Don’t just stand there, Apollonia. Get that beer.”
Apollonia nodded. “Yes, Lord Peril.”
She glided away, and the shark in the pool submerged deeper to avoid swimming too close to her as she crossed the bridge.
“Lord Peril?” asked Connie.
“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “She’s just a bit traditional. She’s great, actually. Very loyal. Very efficient. A little stolid, but that comes with the job, I think. All the good henchagents, er, women, uh, henchagents are like that.” He frowned. “That’s what they prefer to be called now. Henchagents. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?
“Larry, I just—”
“I’ll admit that this Lord Peril stuff does make me sound like a guy with an eyepatch and a robot army. I thought about Mr. Peril, but that doesn’t sound much better, and I can’t get them to call me Larry. Old habits.” He set down the papers again. “Damn, listen to me. Going on and on. I’m just so excited you’re here. I’ve missed you, Connie.”
“Yes, you said that already.”
“So, what’s been going on in your life? Still having those crazy adventures? Still saving the day?”
“Yes, but before we—”
“I bet.” He laughed. “Do you want to know something? I almost didn’t call you because I was afraid you’d think I was some sort of evil genius. And then we had that disastrous first call, and I thought for sure you’d assume I’d taken after Mom.”
“Never crossed my mind.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to lie about it. There were days I thought for sure I was set on the mastermind path, myself. Seems unavoidable at times. I might have even done it if I was any good at masterminding, but I’m a month into this and already in way over my head. It’s why I’m so glad you’re here.”
Apollonia returned. She opened a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and set it before Connie.
“I’m happy to help, Larry,” said Connie, “but you should know—”
“How’s Tia?” he asked. “Do you two still keep in touch?”
“We’re still friends. She’s my sidekick now. Officially.”
“That’s great. I remember that time Mom threw her into that nest of cobras, and you jumped right in after her. Mom never did figure out how you managed to survive that one. You don’t know how many family dinners I had to listen to her complaining about it.”
“Cobras aren’t that dangerous if you know how to handle them,” she said.
“That’s what I finally told her. I said, ‘Mom, they’re just goddamn snakes. Connie can deal with some goddamn snakes.’ Didn’t talk to me for a week. Made some excuses about having to supervise a doomsday device, but I knew she was just mad because I was right. And she always sort of hated you. Can’t hardly blame her. Nobody likes having their plans for world domination foiled by a twelve-year-old.”
“I was fourteen with the cobra thing,” said Connie. “I was twelve when I stopped her from freezing the Earth.”
She realized, as she occasionally did, that she’d been doing this a long time. Kids shouldn’t be responsible for saving the world, but at the time, it’d been a grand adventure.
“We were just dumb kids then.” He held up his wine glass. “To dumb kids and old times.”
“Old times.”
She smiled, tapped his glass with her can, and took a drink of the warm beer as Apollonia glowered down at her. They were going to fight at some point. Connie had a bad history with henchagents, and it was bound to happen.
“I am sorry about your mom,” said Connie. “She wasn’t a good person, and she’s probably not really dead. But she was your mom and if she is, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Means a lot.”
“And before I agree to anything, I think it’s important to set some—”
Something exploded just on the other side of the villa. The black helicopter came plummeting into view, spewing flames and smoke as it wobbled out of control. It crashed into a marble fountain.
“They’re here,” said Apollonia.
The sounds of gunfire being exchanged echoed from nearby.
“Who’s here?” asked Connie.
Apollonia took Larry by the arm and dragged him toward the villa. “We need to get you to the safe room, Lord Peril.”
Connie ran after them. “Who is here?”
“Funny story,” said Larry. “Remember when I mentioned being worried about some people in Siege Perilous not being interested in my new policies? Turns out some people in Siege Perilous are not that interested in my new policies.”
They entered the house. Apollonia threw a hidden switch or pushed a secret button or something and armor plating fell across all the windows. Outside, a war raged. She pushed another secret switch somewhere and the fireplace opened, revealing an elevator. “This way, sir.”
Apollonia blocked Connie from entering the elevator. “You’re not authorized.”
Connie craned her head back to stare down the Amazon. “Like hell I’m not.”
“We were safe until you showed up. You’re a security risk.”
Connie poked Apollonia in the chest. It was like poking a granite pillar. A granite pillar that didn’t care for you very much and might do something about it.
“I’d love to beat the shit out of you right now, but we have more important things to worry about.”
Apollonia sneered. “I have the time. How long could it take, short stack?”
“I’m average height,” said Connie, realizing it wasn’t a great rebuttal but too late to retract now.
“Yes. Average would best sum you up.”
Larry put his hand on Apollonia’s shoulder. “It’s all right. She’s cool.”
His henchagent wasn’t happy about it, but she followed orders. Connie boarded the elevator, which descended into the hidden recesses under the house. Apollonia positioned herself between Connie and Larry.
“It’s really no big deal,” said Larry. “Everything’s under control. It’s only one division that’s having the issue.”
“What division is that?” asked Connie against her better judgment.
“Assassinations.” He tried to sound relaxed about it. “We’ll be fine. Just so long as they didn’t send Scimitar.”
The elevator doors opened and a woman in glasses greeted them. “Scimitar has been identified leading the assault,” sh
e said.
Larry tried to wave away Connie’s concerns. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Just so long as Hardcastle isn’t here too.”
“Lord Peril . . .” The woman held up a photo of a giant of a man, like a shaved bigfoot on mutant growth hormone.
“It’ll be fine,” said Larry as Apollonia led him into the control center. “This facility is built to withstand a bomb blast. We already have reinforcements on the way. We only need to hold them off for half an hour. Forty-five minutes, tops.”
“Uh . . . sir, there are reports of preemptive strikes against—”
“Fine. It’ll be fine.”
They sat in the control bunker while explosions rocked the outside. On the monitors, a confusing battle raged. It was difficult to tell who was winning when everyone wore the same uniforms and used the same equipment. Larry reassured Connie that this eventuality had been considered and that, while inconvenient, it was nothing to worry about. Not as long as the outer doors held. When those fell, he explained that this is what the secondary doors were for. When those gave way, he admitted that it might be a problem, but all the final security doors had to do was hold out for another ten minutes before help arrived.
They fell off their hinges two minutes later. Smoke and dust billowed into the bunker as Connie and Apollonia pushed Larry behind them. A squad of elite soldiers poured into the room silently. They pointed their assault rifles at Larry’s outnumbered security forces.
Hardcastle and Scimitar strolled in behind their troops. Hardcastle was bigger and more powerful in person. Tall and thin, Scimitar was the Laurel to Hardcastle’s Hardy.
Hardcastle carried a custom machine gun designed to mow down tanks. He held it against his hip while chewing on a half-smoked cigar.
Scimitar, dressed all in black with a meticulous vandyke, playfully traced the air with his sword.
“This is treason,” said Apollonia. “You swore an oath of loyalty.”
Hardcastle guffawed, but Scimitar raised a hand to silence his partner.
“My oath was to Lady Peril, not this dimwit. And I’m an assassin. Anyone who relies on my loyalty is bound to be disappointed.” He held up his sword in preparation to give the fire command but paused, leering at Connie.
“Hang on. What have we here? Is it really Constance Verity I see before me?” He bowed. “It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We studied under the same teachers, I believe. I was told repeatedly, you were among the best. Master Chaput said he’d trained none better.”
“He flatters me,” said Connie.
“Flattered.” Scimitar half-smiled. “I’m afraid the Master is no longer with us. I killed him. It was necessary to test my steel against his. When I found him beneath me, I spared him continued embarrassment by killing him. It was the least I could do. I suppose you’ll want to avenge him now.”
“We’re wasting time,” grumbled Hardcastle.
“Won’t take a moment, dear boy.”
Scimitar nodded to a henchagent, who threw Connie a sword. Connie and Scimitar met in the space between the two factions. They touched swords. He immediately lunged, which she parried and countered with a forward recovery. He met her blade with a riposte headed right to her heart. She pushed the attack aside, but he managed to slice her shoulder. The cut was shallow, but he stepped back and laughed.
“It’s been years since it’s taken me this long to draw blood. You’re quite good.”
She should’ve replied. Something to challenge his ego. Something to keep him talking, to buy time for reinforcements to get there. But she didn’t like Scimitar, and she wanted to beat him.
She held up her sword, and he launched into another attack. This time, he gave her no quarter, relentlessly swinging and striking. His form was flawless, and she could only parry the flurry, waiting for an opening. It never came. He stopped and stepped away.
Her cheek felt wet, and she wiped a trickle of blood away. She’d seen the strike, but only barely. He could’ve taken her eye. He’d just chosen not to.
Scimitar lowered his sword and stroked his mustache. “Indeed, you’re good, but I’m better. A pity. I was hoping—”
She wasn’t in the mood for this. She advanced, thrusting with every bit of skill she had. He parried with more effort than his bored expression might indicate, but not much more.
“Really, now you’re just being sloppy,” he said. “Best to end it now, I suppose.”
He stabbed for her heart again. She met the strike and pushed it slightly aside. Enough to avoid an immediately fatal blow. She followed her half-defense with a thrust of her own. Scimitar, in his arrogance, wasn’t ready for the blade between his ribs.
Scimitar stared at the sword in his chest. “Very good, Constance.” Grinning, he fell over. His sword tip pulled from her side, and she grabbed the wound. Blood soaked through her shirt. It looked worse than it was, but it hurt like hell.
The floor lurched under her feet. She fell over. It shouldn’t have been this bad, but everything grew fuzzy. Her hazy vision saw minions from both sides collapsing. Apollonia had Hardcastle on the floor, punching him repeatedly.
Larry, a portable gas mask clamped over his mouth and nose, stood over Connie.
“Oh, god,” he said. “You’re hurt.”
Her side stung as he touched it. His hands came up covered in red.
“Fucking Kansas,” grumbled Connie before succumbing to unconsciousness.
12
Tia met Connie at the airport.
Connie tried to convince Tia otherwise.
“I’ll catch a cab,” said Connie over the phone. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s okay. Your plane is landing during my lunch. Should be able to squeeze it in.”
“What about your job?”
“They’re used to me taking long absences,” said Tia. “They won’t mind.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be tired as hell when I land. Won’t be much fun to talk to.”
“Connie, I’m your sidekick. Airport pickups are just part of the service.”
“You’re really taking this new position seriously,” said Connie.
“How do you think I managed to hold down a job while being semi-regularly kidnapped by aliens and gangsters and alien gangsters? By making myself indispensable, that’s how. You’ll wonder how you ever got along without me.”
There was no talking Tia out of it. That’d be fine normally. But Connie’s last adventure had left a nasty gash in her side and a bad taste in her mouth, and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Standing on the curb, she focused, calling on ancient techniques of biomanipulation to override the pain in her gut. It was only pain. Pain was an illusion, a feedback response from nerve endings, transmitted to the brain. The brain couldn’t feel pain. The brain could only report pain from other parts of the body. Pain wasn’t real. Pain was just nerves doing their job. Pain was only a matter of perception.
She drew in a deep breath, and the ache dulled. She still felt it, but only in a vague way. She smiled at her triumph over her own flawed biology. The sōhei warrior monks would be proud of the way she stood without the slightest hint of injury. A soldier needs only strength enough to stand and hold a sword to perform her duty.
A woman brushed hastily by Connie with barely a muttered “Excuse me.”
Connie winced and dropped her bag. “Goddamn it.”
Tia’s car pulled up to the curb. Connie groaned, tossed her bag in the backseat, and climbed in. She grunted involuntarily as she sat.
“Everything okay?” asked Tia. She didn’t ask specifically about the Band-Aid on Connie’s cheek. Coming back from an adventure with a fresh bruise or two wasn’t really worth commenting on.
“Peachy.” Connie stared straight ahead, fearing that turning her head might lead to some incidental torso-twisting. “Had a little trouble in Kansas, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Tia pulled into traffic. “Kansas, huh? Surprised you went.”
> “Didn’t know it was Kansas until I got there,” said Connie.
“So, how’d it go?”
“Good,” said Connie. “Saved Larry from an assassination attempt.”
“That’s good. And what about the other thing?”
Tia changed lanes. The sudden shift popped in Connie’s side. She frowned, stifled a grimace.
“I don’t think that other thing is a thing,” she said. “I think he really just wants my help.”
“Did you talk to him about it?”
“It didn’t come up.”
“Connie . . .”
“Things got crazy faster than I expected. I didn’t think it was the right time to talk about feelings.”
“You never think it’s the right time,” said Tia.
“He was attacked,” said Connie. “I think it confirmed he had valid reasons for wanting me around.”
“Hey, if you don’t want to deal with it like a mature adult, who am I to make you?”
“Exactly.”
Tia smirked. “But you should.”
“If it comes up, I’ll talk about it,” replied Connie.
They drove a while in silence. She managed her pain, not as well as she would’ve liked, but well enough.
“Are we going to talk about that?” asked Tia.
Connie feigned innocence. “Talk about what?”
“That way you’re holding your side there. Did you get hurt?”
“I’ve been hurt before,” said Connie. “Comes with the job.”
“Then why are you trying to hide it?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Why are you so defensive?”
“When did you become so nosy?”
“My best friend is a master detective,” replied Tia. “Maybe she’s rubbing off on me.”
Connie sank in the seat. The seatbelt applied pressure to her wound, and she swore. “I might have gotten stabbed. Just a little.”
“Knife?”
“Sword.”
“How little?”
“Larry’s docs were able to clean the wound and stitch it up. I’m taking antibiotics.”
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 9
