by J. Judkins
Naomi leaned forward, a rapt smile on her face. “Tell me more. What are a supervillain’s limitations?”
Kim shrugged. “All self-imposed. Supervillains only pretend to be ordinary people until it’s time to throw aside their carefully crafted mask and do whatever they feel like doing. They ignore the rules. That’s what makes them villains.”
Angel was on her feet. “Kim! What are you doing?”
“I’ve made my decision.” Naomi pushed back her chair. She stepped around her desk and embraced Angel in a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Kim could only bristle at the sight, feeling a surge of something she chose not to call jealousy. “Thank you? For what?”
“I’m very, very interested in you,” Naomi whispered to Angel, ignoring Kim. “I don’t know if you truly are what I suspect you are, but I intend to find out.” She released her. “Until we meet again.”
“Thank you for what?” Kim demanded once more.
“For hope. You’ve given me hope!”
Naomi turned her smile upon Kim. “Neither one of you have yet to tell me what I need to know, but I can tell you that Angel is the key to everything. Time is running out. I suggest you use yours wisely.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means there are going to be some changes around here,” she said sweetly. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to vacate the building before I summon security and throw you out.”
“What?”
“Twenty-five,” she said, five seconds later. She mimed glancing at a nonexistent watch at her wrist. “Twenty.”
Angel tugged at her arm. “Let’s go.”
Bewildered and confused, Kim could only follow.
Chapter Ten
Angel reached over from the passenger seat and touched Kim’s arm. She held up a small device. “Do you have any idea what this is?”
“Stop that. I’m driving.” Kim brushed Angel’s hand away. She couldn’t afford the needless distraction. There wasn’t much time left. The day was spent, and her condominium was five minutes away. That left her barely any time at all to find a solution to her current dilemma.
It had taken time, effort, and a whole lot of what some might consider “repetitive inner dialogue” and “navel-gazing” for her to realize she wasn’t quite as doomed as she’d first imagined. This was assuming doom could be marginalized, of course.
It all came down to what Angel believed, and how logic guided her emotions. Kim’s “lack of trust” was a perfect example. It had been classified as a deterrent to Angel’s romance-oriented goals, and so she’d implemented a plan to overcome that specific obstacle. One set of conditions inexorably led to another.
Angel’s theory was sound, but she hadn’t followed that particular chain of logic to its natural, final conclusion. She hadn’t realized that specific conditions didn’t necessarily lead to specific outcomes.
Kim and Angel both agreed that love couldn’t survive without trust. But Angel still hadn’t realized that establishing trust only meant love was possible. That it could happen, not necessarily that it would.
This was why Kim still felt she was doomed, but only in a limited sense. The threat of marriage still loomed on the horizon, but her free will was still her own. Loving Angel in the biblical sense wasn’t inevitable. Or fated. It was simply pretty damned likely to happen.
“I found it in my jacket as we left the building,” Angel said, once again holding up the device on the off chance that Kim might have missed it. “I know for a fact it wasn’t there when we left home this morning.”
Kim knew the truth of it, but could she make Angel understand? Did she have the words to explain it? What would happen if her sex-crazed girlfriend simply refused to see it that way?
If Angel believed Kim’s personal deterrents had been lifted, then it wouldn’t matter one whit if the logic she’d used to reach that specific conclusion turned out to be flawed or not. Angel would proceed as if she’d been successful, and Kim knew she didn’t have a fraction of the willpower necessary to resist her. Protests in the heat of the moment were barely articulate, even at the best of times. They certainly weren’t effective.
Kim could picture how it would happen in her head. They’d walk into the apartment, casual as you please, neither one betraying any hint they knew exactly what was about to happen.
But it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Tensions would mount, sparks would fly, and then they’d be overcome with desire and falling into each other’s arms. They might not even make it to the bedroom.
Then the front door would open, and there would be Dad, staring back at them. Kim could imagine nothing worse. The embarrassment would kill her.
But what could she do about it? How could she avoid that fate?
“When I was in Blackgate’s computers, I discovered that their agents had looted several other artifacts with similar markings,” Angel rattled on.
A deceptively attractive thought popped into Kim’s head. What if she took the initiative, and led Angel directly into the bedroom under the pretense of “getting it over with” before Dad arrived?
No, that couldn’t work. Doing so would inadvertently give Angel the mistaken impression that Kim wanted her desperately, and that it was all her idea.
But the alternative was even worse. If Kim dared attempt to reassure Angel that tonight was the night, in the hopes of delaying her until this evening, it was entirely possible that Angel might take her words to heart and mistakenly conclude that tonight was the night!
“As for the individual symbols, Blackgate scientists have never been successful in extrapolating a meaning from them. These three characters are new.” Angel’s finger hovered over the indicated symbols one by one. “They’ve never been recorded.”
Kim continued to ignore Angel and whatever it was she was prattling on about. She turned into her condominium complex and tapped the garage door opener hanging from the sun visor. Best guess, she had between one to four hours. Dad would show up whenever he felt like it, and not a moment before. It was always random.
She shut off the car. The soft ticking of the cooling engine did little to help her relax. Kim gathered her belongings from the back seat. One to four hours to decide my fate. Not much time at all, in the grand scheme of things.
Hold on . . . four hours implied a time limit. Could she use that?
Angel stood waiting at the garage door. “It seems to utilize the same power source as the others,” she said. “Nothing harmful to humans. No radiation.”
Kim grinned as she closed the garage door behind them. Yes, that was perfect! A time limit! Angel would want hours to savor her ultimate victory; a time limit was the perfect excuse.
Neither spoke as they crossed the parking lot. The sun was setting in the horizon. Daylight Saving Time was still in effect, but the chill of a crisp autumn night was upon them.
Kim unlocked the security door, but didn’t open it. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. This was it. The moment of truth. If she didn’t explain herself in full, Angel would certainly seduce her ahead of schedule and she’d lose her chance.
“Dad’s going to come by later tonight,” Kim said. “It’s something he does every other month or so. He’ll pick a random time to show up.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we can’t be busy having sex in the doorway, because he might come by at any time.”
Angel’s mouth fell open. “You were planning on it? In the doorway?”
“No, we shouldn’t plan on it,” Kim corrected her.
“I see.” Angel shuffled her feet, apparently carefully considering her next words. “Is there another point at which you’d rather—”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to,” Kim interrupted. “All I’m saying is that we definitely shouldn’t before Dad gets here. Because of the time limit.”
“How much time do we have?”
She doesn’t give up, does she? “I just told you—”
“All
ow me to clarify.” Angel transferred the whatever-it-was from one hand to the other. “Do you have any idea of when to expect him?”
“Oh.” Kim pulled the security door open and held it for Angel. “No idea. It’s kind of random.”
That seemed to satisfy Angel.
Chapter Eleven
Kim followed Angel as they ascended the stairs to Kim’s condominium. It wasn’t the largest or most expensive of the three on that level, but it was home.
The door opened into the living room. Kim tossed her keys and sunglasses onto the end table next to the couch. Mindful of her father’s imminent arrival, she took a moment to search for distasteful, subtle indications of human habitation. Other than the open credenza door, which Kim promptly closed, there was nothing to be found. There were no piles of unread mail. No discarded clothing or dishes scattered about hither and yon. The entertainment center was clean and free of dust. Even her somewhat uncomfortable, ten-year-old couch and its matching chair on the opposite side of the room seemed as pristine as could be.
Living with Angel certainly had its advantages.
With no final preparations to make, Kim’s thoughts turned to the inevitable confrontation with her father and what she could hope to expect. A plan formed in her mind.
Dad wasn’t the most inquisitive person on the planet, but he would certainly want to know more about his only daughter’s new roommate. He’d ask pressing questions that Kim wouldn’t want to answer.
Fortunately, there was a solution. All Kim needed to do was match Dad’s expectations of her by feeding him mere tidbits of information. She’d tell him Angel was staying here, but leave the rest unsaid.
Dad would assume his secretive daughter was concealing something; Kim would let him wonder what the hidden truth could possibly be. And then, at the proper moment, Kim would “let slip” that she and Angel were dating.
It was a solution that would leave everyone satisfied. Angel would be ecstatic to be acknowledged, and Dad’s curiosity would be sated. All the personal details of her and Angel’s private relationship would remain private.
There was only one potential problem.
Angel was the polar opposite of the cautious type. If Dad asked direct questions, Angel would respond with direct answers.
To prevent this, Kim needed to find a way to keep Angel from saying too much. Anything less risked disaster.
“Kim?” Angel tapped Kim’s shoulder.
“What?”
“I said, I’m curious as to why you said nothing to me about your father’s impending visit until now.”
“No particular reason. I’m not going to hide you away, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I expected this. I understand.”
Angel’s words of reassurance did nothing to reassure her. “Hold on, you expected what, exactly?”
“You’ve often cautioned me against sharing personal information with others.”
“And?”
“There have been no exceptions to date. I’m expecting you to conceal certain aspects of our relationship. Why should it be different with your parents?”
“I haven’t been avoiding talking about you because I’m ashamed of you, Angel. I just don’t think it’s anyone else’s business.”
“I understand. You don’t need to convince me.”
“I’ve never been in the habit of sharing information.”
“As I said, you don’t need to convince me.”
This didn’t fit with what she knew about Angel’s intentions. Kim was firmly convinced that Angel wanted to get married to her in the worst way. The act of “telling the parents” was a necessary step on the dark and twisted path to matrimony.
“You think I should tell them?” Kim asked. “Is this because of the marriage talk?”
Angel’s forehead wrinkled. “That hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Then, what?”
“I’m uncomfortable with the thought of picking and choosing which facts to reveal, and which to conceal. It seems reasonable to assume your parents will find out everything there is to know about us before long. But I can understand your reluctance to share information, if you’re too shy.”
Kim folded her arms. “I’m not keeping them in the dark because I’m shy.”
“Then why conceal specific facts and reveal others? Why not tell them everything?”
Angel’s point seemed valid on the surface, but Kim wasn’t willing to embrace it just yet. “Because it’s none of their business, that’s why. Parents only need to be informed about relationships after things get serious. Until then, it doesn’t matter.”
Angel looked away. “I see.”
Kim sighed. She doubted Angel understood, but didn’t see a better way to explain it.
“First rule: keep everything a secret. Don’t tell Dad what we’ve been doing. Wait until after I tell him.”
“Meaning . . .”
“Just follow my lead. Okay?”
“Of course,” Angel said.
Kim remained cautiously pessimistic. Her eyes drifted to the small device in Angel’s right hand. “What’s that?”
Angel held it up so Kim could get a better look. “A tool of some sort. But beyond that, who can say? The popular theory at Blackgate is—”
“Where did you get it?”
“I believe Naomi slipped it into my jacket when she hugged me.”
Kim’s eyes lit with fascination. The unknown object was roughly half again the size of a handheld remote control, seemingly constructed almost entirely out of a reddish-gray metal. A deep, emerald-green light extended halfway down its length. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I don’t know,” said Angel. “What do you think it is?”
“Looks like some sort of high-tech alien toy to me!”
Angel’s face scrunched into her “dubious” expression. “I doubt it’s a toy.”
Kim reached out to grasp the suspected alien device, but then she thought better of it and pulled her hand back. It wasn’t something she could hear, but she could feel minute vibrations in her chest, as if she were in a spacious room with numerous intermittent speakers cranked up to ten. “Okay, what’s with that humming? Why is it doing that?”
“No idea. I believe it’s safe, though. There’s no radiation.”
“Radiation?”
“No radiation,” Angel corrected.
“Why would you think there’s radiation?”
Angel’s expression became subtly more irritated. “I said, no radiation.”
“That’s not what I meant. Why would you say anything about radiation at all in the first place?”
“Oh. Because despite years of work with other suspected alien devices, their power source remains a mystery.”
“Nothing harmful?”
“Nothing detectable so far.” Angel absently tossed the device to her other hand. “At least, nothing that’s been proven.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Kim took the device. The cylindrical shape and coloring reminded Kim of a stick of dynamite from the old Warner Brothers cartoons, only without the protruding fuse. There were no dials, buttons, knobs, or switches of any kind.
After giving it a thorough examination, Kim set the device on the couch’s end table. “What were you saying about Blackgate’s popular theory?”
“In their attempt to explain away the lack of visible controls, Blackgate scientists theorize that the devices are operated through direct mental interaction.”
“As in, the computers in an alien’s head interacts directly with the devices?”
“That’s the popular theory,” Angel confirmed. “Any insights as to what it could be?”
“An Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator,” Kim said.
Angel cocked her head slightly. “I’m not familiar with—”
“It’s from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Marvin the Martian wanted to use one to destroy the Earth. Any idea why Naomi would give it to you?”
“N
o idea.” Angel’s eyes were wide. “He wanted to destroy—why would he want to do that?”
Kim fell into her best Marvin the Martian voice. “It obstructs my view of Venus.”
Angel smiled and gave a curt nod. “Of course.”
Kim was about to remark on Angel’s somewhat condescending reaction when her suspicious and somewhat paranoid mind kicked in. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought it home?”
“If you believe it might be an explosive, why not give it to Dr. Harrison?”
Kim smiled ever so slightly. “I mean, we shouldn’t bring it home because the aliens might use it to track us down, not because it might blow up and kill us. Why give it to Harrison? Is it because you don’t like him, or because you think he could keep it safe?”
“The latter, of course.” Angel drew herself up. “We’re being paid to recover such items, after all.”
Kim’s smile widened. “Of course.”
“My personal enmity for Dr. Harrison has nothing to do with it.”
“Got it.”
Kim’s cell phone chirped with a text message. She acknowledged it so it wouldn’t bother her again two minutes later. “Dad’s in the parking lot. You ready for this?”
“I’m ready.”
Kim wished she could say the same. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. Even without the threat of marriage looming over her head like the Sword of Damocles, the act of introducing a girlfriend to her father couldn’t be seen as anything less than a significant step forward in any relationship.
Hopefully, Angel wouldn’t take advantage of the situation.
Speaking of which . . . “We’re still not officially engaged, Angel, so if it’s all the same to you, you should probably hold off on calling him ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’ for the time being.”
Angel opened her mouth, then closed it with a shake of her head. Her expression settled into the look Kim had come to loathe most of all—the look carefully crafted to indicate that the thought had never occurred to her. Angel’s signature look.
