She nestled her head under his chin. “I think I’m done. The caretaker spell might be broken. It might disappear entirely.”
“Which means?”
“Which means I could become ordinary.”
“I don’t think anyone who has done everything you’ve done could ever be ordinary.”
“It could mean no more adventures.”
“That’s not so bad, is it? Wasn’t it only a year ago that you wanted that?”
“I got over that. When the spell’s influence diminished, I was grateful for the quiet it gave me. I love those moments, but I love saving the day. It’s a chance to make the world a better place, and I’m good at it.”
“Maybe you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
Connie pushed away from him. “I’m Constance Verity. I can do that.”
Byron looked away. “Uh-huh.”
She said, “What does that mean?”
“Why does it have to mean anything?” he asked.
“That’s a weird way to say that. It means that it does mean something.”
Byron pondered whether they should have this conversation now. He decided they shouldn’t but knew the time he’d spent pondering made it likely unavoidable.
“We can talk about it later.”
It was, he realized, the exact wrong thing to say.
“So, there is something to talk about, then.” She sounded accusatory, like a prosecutor getting a witness to bumble into a verbal trap.
“You’re having a bad day,” he said. “It’s not important.”
“Not important enough to talk about now,” she said. “But important enough to talk about eventually.”
“Goddamn it, Connie,” he said. “You’re like a dog with a bone. Can’t you just let it go for a bit?”
A scowl passed over her face before softening. “You’re right. I’m not in the mood for a fight, and I just want to not think about stuff for a while.”
She moved closer, and her hand ran up his leg. He pulled her close and kissed her. She did that thing that she’d learned somewhere in her adventures (he didn’t ask where) that drove him wild even though it had nothing to do with naughty bits and they were still both fully clothed.
She straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt. She needed this. Everything else could wait. No talking. No adventures. No thoughts about tomorrow.
He put his hand on her cheek, and she kissed his palm.
“It’s going to be a fight, though?” she asked softly.
His hand moved down her neck and along her shoulder. “Not necessarily.”
She rolled off him.
“You’ve just lost a friend,” he said. “You’re dealing with an identity crisis. We don’t need to talk about this now. It’s not fair to either of us.”
She knew he was right, but she couldn’t help herself. “What’s wrong?” She wasn’t happy about how annoyed she sounded.
“I’m just wondering how much you want to be here.”
“I’m here,” she said.
“Physically. But you’re not really here. You’re out there, somewhere.” He waved in the general direction of the world. “Thinking about your next adventure.”
“I just told you, there might not be any more adventures.”
“So, I’m your consolation prize?” he asked. “You can’t be off fighting spider soldiers at the center of the Earth, so you’ll settle for this?”
“I never said anything about settling,” she said.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Christ, don’t tell me you’re getting insecure on me. I love you, you stupid asshole.”
He lowered his head. “I love you, too.”
Connie wanted to let it go at that. She couldn’t.
“I’m sorry if my mixed feelings about being the savior of the universe are screwing things up for you.”
“Damn it, you’re impossible to talk to sometimes. I need some air.”
He left the condo. He didn’t slam the door, at least.
She sulked for a few moments. He’d been right. She didn’t need this. It was better for both of them if she let him go, giving them both time to cool off. And if he never came back, it might be better. Period.
She went to the window and waited for him to appear on the street below. He appeared, glanced up at her. She wanted to be angry at him, for him to be angry at her. He looked annoyed, sad, tired. But not angry.
She should’ve known the right thing to do. Why didn’t she?
She opened the window and jumped out of it. An awning below broke the two-story fall, and she slid gracefully to the sidewalk.
“Just something I learned from a trapeze artist,” she said with a playful smile.
He didn’t smile back.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Because I love you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s not?”
“We’re two fundamentally different people. What happens when the novelty wears off and we can’t deny that any longer?”
“But you’re the one who wanted this,” she said.
“And you didn’t?”
“Of course I did.” She caught herself. “I do. Okay, I get it. Adventuring has been crazy lately, and maybe I let it get crazy because I wasn’t sure how I felt about us. I’ve had some of the same doubts, even if I didn’t admit it to myself until now. But, Byron, I might be an ordinary person soon. Then we won’t have anything to fight over.”
“That’s just it,” he said. “It’s not about ordinary and extraordinary. It’s about compatibility. If tomorrow, the adventures stopped, can you see yourself happy being with me?”
“Sure.”
He held up his hand. “Don’t just say it. Think about it. No adventures. Just you and me, doing regular stuff regular people do. Dinners and movies, watching TV together, maybe having kids. Do you even want kids?”
“Sure. Unless you don’t want kids. I mean, it’s no big deal either way.”
He didn’t reply. He looked tired. She only wanted to stop fighting.
“I don’t know what you want to hear,” she said.
“That’s just it. I don’t want you to tell me what you think I want to hear. I want you to tell me what you think.”
“I think this is stupid. I have enough hassles without trying to manage a relationship.”
It took her a moment to hear herself.
“God, Byron, I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did, and it’s good that it’s out in the open. Like I said, we’re just too different. You don’t belong in my world, and I don’t belong in yours. That’s not because of some spell. It’s who we are.”
She wanted to argue. So many times in the past, she’d assumed things were ending between them. He was always the one who convinced her otherwise. Now that their roles were reversed, she couldn’t find the right words. She’d stopped wars with diplomacy, but this wasn’t a war. And it wasn’t about finding a workable compromise. Sometimes, there wasn’t one.
“So, are we done?” she asked. “Is that it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, this has been a really shitty week,” she said.
He laughed without humor. “Tell me about it.”
Her cell rang. She answered, grateful for the distraction. She’d never wished so much for the world to be imperiled. Anything to take her mind off all this.
Tia’s voice broke through with urgency. “Don’t talk to Byron.”
“Too late,” said Connie.
“Shit.”
Connie turned away from Byron. “Wait. How did you know?”
Hiro’s distant voice mumbled indecipherably.
“Oh, she’s going to figure it out eventually,” Tia said to him.
Connie put a few more feet of sidewalk between her and Byron. “What the hell did he do?”
More of Hiro’s mumbling.
“No, I’m not going to lie to her,” said Tia. “It wouldn’t work, anyway.”<
br />
“What the hell did he do?” asked Connie, louder this time.
“He might have sabotaged your relationship,” said Tia.
Hiro mumbled.
“Accidentally sabotaged,” clarified Tia.
“I’m going to kill him,” said Connie.
“He says he’s really sorry.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“In his defense, he meant well,” said Tia. “He’s just a dumbass.”
A dark calm fell over Connie. “You tell Hiro that he’s a dead man, and I promise, it’ll be an ugly death.”
“You were right,” said Tia to Hiro. “She’s promising to kill you.”
“Put him on the phone,” said Connie.
“I would, but he’s already disappeared. Probably halfway to the airport by now.”
Connie mentally ran through a list of contacts that would enable her to track a wayward ninja across the globe. Hiro was the best. It’d take a long time. There’d be dead ends. He’d make sure of that. And when she did find him, he’d probably give her the slip, but she could be patient. It wasn’t like she’d have anything else to do now that neither Byron nor adventuring appeared to be part of her future. Having something to keep her busy sounded like a relief. She’d have to figure out what to do after she accomplished the task, but that was a ways off.
“I know he’s your boyfriend, but—”
“No, he’s earned it,” said Tia. “You do what you have to do.”
Connie’s phone cut out as a low thrum vibrated the air. A shadow fell over the street as a high-tech aircraft hovered overhead. It was shaped not unlike a giant flying broadsword, and it bore the Siege Perilous logo on its underside.
“I am not in the mood for this!” shouted Connie as the craft descended.
It launched several drones from its top. They orbited her condo, creating a glowing blue forcefield around the entire building.
The aircraft hovered low over the street. It must’ve been powered by antigravity technology because she saw no engines. It had wings, but they were mostly there to give the resemblance of a hilt, and its tail was rudderless. The thrum was what clued her in. Antigravity drives always thrummed like that in an atmosphere.
She returned to Byron’s side. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”
A ramp lowered, and two women stepped off it: Apollonia, tall and dark with her black glasses, wearing her black suit, and looking very bored, and Lady Peril.
Some evil geniuses liked to taunt and cackle, viewing world domination as a cool idea, less interested in ruling the world than in dreaming up schemes to do so and getting the satisfaction of watching humanity quake in fear for a few hours every now and then.
Lady Peril wasn’t that kind of evil genius.
She was nearly as tall as Apollonia and twice as humorless. She never smiled. She never laughed. For her, world domination was merely the inevitable result of her own innate superiority.
Her hair had some gray. There were a few more lines under her eyes, and a bend in her lips made her ever-present disapproving frown more disapproving than ever. She must’ve been pushing sixty-five at this point, but it didn’t stop her from rocking that sleek white bodysuit and long black lab coat, a look that shouldn’t have worked but did if you were a mastermind with the skills to back it up.
“You killed my son,” she said.
Connie said, “That’s how we’re going to play it? Nobody’s going to pretend they’re shocked you’re still alive?”
Lady Peril raised an eyebrow. Her eyebrows were perfectly shaped for raising. “Are you shocked?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“Then let’s skip that, shall we? Instead, let’s talk about my plans, which you, in your ever-predictable fashion, have screwed up once again. It was useful to me for certain people to think I was dead. Or to at least be uncertain if I was alive. And now you’ve forced me to reveal myself.”
“Forced you? You’re the self-professed genius who left her son in charge of an evil secret society. You’re the one who sent goons with guns and power armor after him.”
“That wasn’t me,” said Peril.
“It wasn’t?”
“No, but rest assured whoever it was shall be dealt with accordingly.”
“So, deal with them,” said Connie. “I have my own problems to deal with.”
Police sirens could be heard in the distance. Lady Peril remained unconcerned. “You must understand, Constance, that I was never particularly fond of Larry. He was, by any measure, a disappointment. Yet I could never deny a primal attachment to the boy. I knew that it was only a trick of nature, a survival instinct forged into the genetic code, a leftover from when such things mattered.”
“This is some guy’s mom?” asked Byron. “Poor kid.”
“You have no idea,” said Connie.
“Yes, do judge me by the outdated standards of foolish primitive cultures.” Lady Peril turned her nose up at them and smoothed her coat. “I’ll admit that motherhood was never my passion, though I do sometimes think that was my mistake. I shunted Larry’s childhood off on robotic caregivers. They kept him alive and offered him stimulation, and I assumed he’d follow in my footsteps naturally. Alas, we know how that turned out. It might have been different had I taken a more direct hand in things. Larry’s failings were perhaps a product of my own oversights.”
“I think they have a Mother’s Day card that says something like that,” said Connie.
Lady Peril disapproved. She was always disapproving, but her tightened lips and narrowed eyes meant she especially disapproved.
“It was my assumption that Larry would take after me. It was my assumption that he could manage Siege Perilous for the short time I needed. And when Larry contacted you, it was my assumption that you could prevent any harm from coming to him.”
“If you’re blaming me,” said Connie, “why aren’t you blaming Apollonia? She was his official bodyguard.”
Apollonia, blank-faced, step forward, but Lady Peril stopped her with a casually raised hand. “Apollonia and I will have that discussion at some point in the future, but she remains useful to me. You, however, do not. Under other circumstances, I’d be content to leave you alone. But these are not normal circumstances.”
A police car came screaming on the scene. A drone hovered over the car and sliced through its engine block with a high-powered laser. The cops stepped out, guns drawn, but the drone blasted the weapons out of their hands and circled the helpless officers.
“Revenge, Peril?” asked Connie. “That’s not like you.”
“And yet here we are.” Peril’s face pinched so tight, it threatened to split in two and allow her skull to come out. “Damned genetic imperative.”
She waved her hand, and Apollonia stepped forward.
“Now we fight. Finally.” Connie adopted a fighting stance. “Fine with me. I’ve been having a lousy couple of days, and maybe kicking your ass will make me feel better.”
She dashed forward, debating on going for a knockout roundhouse kick to Apollonia’s head. It’d be a shame to end the fight so quickly, but Lady Peril couldn’t be ignored for long. Three steps into the attack, Connie realized Apollonia wasn’t making any move to defend herself. A moment later, a drone carved a line before Connie with a bright red laser, stopping her in her tracks.
The drones circled her, whirring menacingly, their weapons glowing for no other reason than to remind her of the threat.
“Pretty cowardly,” said Connie. “Is this how you want it to go down?”
“No,” said Apollonia, “but I’m only an employee.”
She walked past Connie and grabbed Byron. He struggled, but she chopped him on a pressure point. He crumpled in her arms, and she threw him over her shoulder.
Connie moved to intercept. Drones fired at her feet, missing by scant inches.
“Your problem’s with me, Peril. Leave him out of it. You want revenge. I’m right here.”
Lady Peril said, “Pardon the cliché, but you have taken something precious from me. Now I shall return the favor.”
“We’re not even together anymore!” shouted Connie. “We just broke up, I think.”
“More’s the pity, then.” Lady Peril ascended the ramp with Apollonia and Byron behind.
Connie had only moments to come up with a plan. She hastily calculated angles of trajectory, figuring the series of steps that could lead the drones to catch each other in the crossfire.
Another drone was almost within arm’s reach. She could grab it, use it as a shield, use its lasers.
She could do something. She might not be the caretaker anymore, but there had to be something left in her. Some remnant of bravado, some spark of luck that’d turn things around.
The ramp started to close.
“Goddamn it.” Connie bolted forward. It wasn’t a plan. It wasn’t anything but pure stupid desperation. The kind of stupid plan that shouldn’t work but had gotten her out of tighter spots.
A drone grazed her calf. Another burned her shoulder. Neither blast was at full power, but they hurt like hell and broke her stride. She fell to her knees as the ramp sealed and the aircraft rose in the air. There was still time to do something.
The drones hovering over her suddenly shorted out and crashed to the ground. The forcefield around her condo building collapsed, and her neighbors rushed out. Duke Warlock and Nim helped her up.
“I was able to send out a focused EMP burst that shorted out the drones,” said Doctor Malady. “Are you all right, Connie?”
“No.”
The aircraft disappeared over the skyline, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop it.
25
Connie threw the pistol in her suitcase.
“A gun?” asked Tia. “That’s not like you.”
“I’m not like me lately,” replied Connie.
“What about all that stuff about trying not to kill people?”
“Desperate circumstances. And, let’s face it, I talk a good game, but I’ve killed a lot of people. And people-like things.” She tossed a pair of short swords in the case and rifled through her closet. “I know my infiltration gear is in here somewhere.”
“Connie, you can’t do this,” said Tia. “I know you’re worried about Byron, and still dealing with Larry’s death, which wasn’t your fault, by the way. But this is stupid.”
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 21
