by J. Judkins
Brandon selected a brownie. “What’s the occasion?”
“I thought you might enjoy them.” Naomi chose her words with care, not at all eager to test her own limitations if she could avoid it. “They were made specifically for you.”
“Oh? They’re not for the others?”
The question gave her a moment’s pause. What would the average human think of them? She honestly couldn’t say. Would they be toxic? Harmless? Delicious? It was anyone’s guess. “If they want them . . .”
Her boss eyed the tasty treat with deep suspicion.
Realizing Brandon needed further persuasion, Naomi attempted to ease his decision with a hefty, verbal shove in the proper direction. “Consider it an apology.”
“An apology? For what?”
“The brownies are meant to symbolically convey the sincerity of my apology for being two hours late cooking brownies this morning.”
His brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Naomi nodded in agreement. Being late cooking brownies to serve as an apology for being late hadn’t made a lot of sense to her either. Perhaps her timing had been off.
“And the second reason?” Brandon prompted.
“I’d rather not say. It’s complicated,” Naomi said, which was exactly true. If Brandon knew the brownies also served to apologize for deliberately poisoning him with said brownies, it was doubtful he would eat them.
He took a bite. Then chewed.
And chewed.
And chewed.
Naomi gave a good approximation of holding her breath with anticipation.
Finally, he swallowed, and it was done.
She was now committed. There was no going back. Her course was set. Nothing could change it now. Success would see her free. Failure would tie her to an irrevocable life of perpetual slavery, if she were lucky.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“Nope. We’re all finished here.” Naomi grinned at him. Like taking candy from a baby. Not a glorious victory, but the rewards were sweet.
She took the plate and all its contents with her as she left the room. Only after the doors closed behind her did she allow herself to smile. A victorious laugh welled up within her, but she decided not to give it free rein. There were people watching.
The dreary workload of the day didn’t seem quite so dreary anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
Saturdays were considered half-days to the employees of Brookings Pharmaceutical. Few remained past noon, and today had turned out to be as typical as any other. Naomi counted only four employees preparing to leave as she made her way to Brandon’s office at thirty minutes past the hour.
The doors swung open. Her target looked significantly less than healthy. The intervening two hours had not been kind. His skin shown a pasty yellowish-gray. His hands gripped the sides of his chair, as if fearful the artificial gravity system was about to fail.
Brandon returned Naomi’s cheery smile with a weary-eyed and profoundly unfocused stare. “There was something wrong with those brownies,” he complained. “I don’t feel able to move. The room won’t stop spinning. I tried calling for assistance, but can’t concentrate to form a link.”
“Don’t worry about the link,” Naomi soothed him. “Please, come with me.”
She led her boss stumbling out of the room. The remaining coworkers watched with curious eyes from over cubicle walls and through open doorways. None made an effort to impede them in any way.
A press of the button, and Naomi ushered Brandon into the open elevator doors. They descended to the subbasement storage floor.
Oppressive silence greeted them upon their arrival. They were alone. No one ever came to this level unless they had specific business, and fewer still lingered for long. This made it perfect for Naomi’s purposes.
“This is the basement,” Brandon said, an observation Naomi considered somewhat impressive, given the unholy concoction she’d fed him only a few hours ago.
“Yes.”
Overhead lights flickered and snapped on as they progressed down the cardboard box-laden, shadowy hallway.
“This is the basement,” Brandon repeated once again. “We’re in the basement. Why? What are we doing here?”
Naomi didn’t answer. They had reached their destination.
She pulled open the freezer door, taking a moment to steel herself against the rush of escaping, frigid air. “Your body is going into phase two,” she explained. “The cold will slow your metabolism and you’ll go into torpor.”
Brandon didn’t move. “This is where the humans store food,” he said.
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“Are you leaving me here?”
“Yes, I am. This is necessary,” Naomi said. “As I said, the cold will put your body into torpor. This will save your life, as this will prevent the poison from causing further damage and any potential lasting harm.”
Brandon still refused to be moved. “No. That won’t work. I can’t stay. The humans come and go here all the time.”
Naomi pulled on Brandon’s arm, prompting him to take a tentative step forward. Then another. “Normally, they would,” she agreed, “but you’re fortunate. Today is Saturday. This is a good thing. There’s no possibility of discovery until early Monday morning.”
“Oh.”
Brandon stood within the freezer. He hugged himself against the cold, wintery air, looking forlorn and lost.
The sight caused Naomi to hesitate. “I’ll return for you soon,” she promised, her voice betraying a hint of sympathy. “Please, don’t worry about anything. You’re going to be fine.”
“Hold on, did you say poison?”
The closed door silenced any further words.
Naomi took a deep breath, then allowed a faint smile to cross her lips. She’d done it. There was no going back now. Everything had been finalized. The die had been cast. The goose had been cooked. The farm had been bought. The cards had been dealt. The—
Brandon pushed the door open from the inside. “Poison? I heard that right, didn’t I? What do you mean, poison?”
“Get back inside!”
“Not until you tell me what you’ve done!” Only Brandon’s unsteady stance prevented him from crossing his arms in obstinate defiance.
Naomi stalked forward, hands unconsciously clenching into fists.
Wait, what was she doing? Violence certainly offered a great deal of short-term satisfaction, but it wasn’t the answer.
Naomi’s hands relaxed. She took a few deep breaths to allow herself time to gather her composure, to reassess the situation and fully determine the best course of action.
Brandon tapped his foot to fully convey his impatience. “I’m waiting.”
“Are you familiar with the term, ‘accidental poisoning’?” Naomi asked.
“Yes.”
“This wasn’t accidental!” she cried, and gave Brandon a hefty shove, slamming the freezer door after him.
The next several minutes were spent rearranging boxes and stacking cases of non-perishable foodstuffs against the door, blocking it from ever opening again. Safety features? Who designs a freezer with “safety” in mind? How ridiculously inefficient! Anyone could escape with door handles on the inside!
Naomi waited until after the rhythmic pounding on the far side of the door faded into silence, then added an extra five minutes to be certain. Only then did she dare summon the elevator to return to her office on the sixteenth floor.
As expected, the office was empty and quiet. It was five minutes past the hour.
Naomi’s grin got away from her. Everything had worked out perfectly. The humans wouldn’t be back until after the weekend was over. This would allow her plenty of time to make further arrangements.
She made a beeline for her own office to gather her personal belongings.
“Excuse me,” a voice prompted.
Naomi turned in surprise. “Melanie?”
“I saw you with Brandon. W
hat happened to him?”
“I thought everyone had gone home,” Naomi said, evading the question. A cover story! How could she have forgotten a cover story?
“Is he sick?”
Naomi hesitated, momentarily overcome with self-doubt. Should she be laughing maniacally? It seemed like an unnecessary risk, to laugh and potentially give herself away. But if she waited until after she was alone, why bother doing it at all?
From what she understood, supervillains pretended to be ordinary until it was time to cast aside their thin veneers of civilization. Could laughing be a psychological thing? Something to boost morale? What was the appropriate course of action? She’d hoped to be a supervillain playing the role of a receptionist, but her uncertainty made her feel as if she were a receptionist playing at being a villain. As if it wasn’t genuine.
In any case, it would be a mistake to dwell on it. “Playing the part” would only slow her down. She couldn’t afford self-doubt at a critical moment such as this.
The elevator doors opened. It was only after they’d closed again that she realized Melanie had been waiting for an answer. An answer that never came.
Apparently having also concluded that Naomi wasn’t going to respond, Melanie had tapped the down button to summon the elevator once more. “Have a nice weekend.”
Naomi hugged herself. A wide grin spread across her face. Could the situation be more ideal? She and Melanie were alone. There were no distracting coworkers around to complicate matters. Her boss was no longer in a position to interfere or otherwise forbid the interaction. This was a rare opportunity.
Naomi hadn’t embraced the supervillain persona for the ability to kick ass. That had been a welcomed perk, but combat effectiveness paled in comparison to what it truly offered. After everything was said and done, what Naomi truly wanted was a lifelong companion to ease her loneliness. She wanted someone special to love, someone with whom to spend the rest of her life. Freedom wasn’t the goal. Freedom was the means to achieve that goal, to make that ideal life possible.
And to reach that elusive goal, she need look no further than the attractive woman standing before her. Melanie was everything she wanted—intelligent and fearless. She followed her dreams no matter where they took her and allowed no one to dictate her actions.
And she was cute as could be. That certainly helped.
Naomi hurried to the blonde woman’s side. The office can wait. There may never be a better time than this. “Wait . . .”
“Yes?”
“I was hoping to talk to you about something personal.”
Melanie waited. Naomi used the brief respite to choose her next words with care. She didn’t want to frighten her away. “During work yesterday, something happened. A certain, special woman caught my eye.”
Naomi noted Melanie’s raised eyebrow and decided to interpret the reaction as interest, a sign to continue. She pressed on. “I don’t want to get in trouble by saying too much, too soon. My words may sound deliberately vague, and I apologize for that.”
She wasn’t worried about inquisitive security listening in, but she was all too aware of being recorded. Deeds could be explained and justified, but words held deeper meaning. If she gave too much away, those words could be used against her. She could face retroactive justice.
Don’t expect privacy. Keep things noncommittal. Give future accusers nothing incriminating to use. But at the same time, it would all be for nothing if she couldn’t drop enough clues for Melanie to understand her meaning. It was going to be a tricky balance.
Naomi’s hands twisted as she sought the perfect words. “Suppose, for a hypothetical moment, that there was someone working here who happened to be interested in a special someone.”
“And does this ‘special someone’ have anything to do with me?” Melanie asked.
“It could. I’d like to involve you, if you’re interested.”
This got a smile out of Melanie. “I think I understand.”
The doors opened. After a short pause, they closed again. The empty elevator began its return journey to the ground floor.
“I’m taking a chance by telling you this,” Naomi said in a low voice. “There are work-related complications I’d like to avoid. If you’re in agreement and say yes, it’s vital we keep this between ourselves. No one else can know.”
Naomi paused to take another look around. It remained unlikely that anyone could be listening in, but she couldn’t shake the irrational fear. “We’d have to keep it secret,” she reiterated, her voice barely a whisper.
Melanie’s bright smile lit the entire room.
Naomi smiled back. “Then you agree? Are you interested?”
“Of course.”
“Good. That special someone is named Angel. I saw her yesterday afternoon with—”
Naomi stopped talking as Melanie angrily stabbed at the elevator button. She showed her confusion by tilting her head and narrowing her eyes slightly. “Is something wrong?”
Melanie whirled about. “What do you expect me to do?” she snarled. “What in the world do you want from me?”
“You have resources.”
“You’re saying you want me for my resources? What resources? What are you talking about?”
“You know. Resources. As in, the old friends in the government agency you worked for. Those kind of resources.”
Melanie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
“Do you want specifics?” Naomi asked. “We did a standard background check before hiring you at Brookings two weeks ago. You were recruited out of high school for specialized government work. I can provide details, if you like.”
Melanie held up a hand. “Stop! I’m not going to ask how you found that out.” She paused for a second. “How did you find out?”
“I thought you weren’t going to ask.”
“I changed my mind. I’m asking. How did you find out?”
Naomi shrugged, hoping the gesture would reiterate that the task had been nothing unusual. “What else is there to say? We do ordinary background checks. I can’t answer as to how, as I wasn’t specifically involved. There’s nothing at all unusual about it.”
Melanie’s stunned, wide-eyed expression reasserted itself. “Nothing unusual?”
“Nothing unusual,” Naomi agreed. “What I’m attempting to say is that I’m fully aware of exactly why you’re here.”
“I see.”
“Are you willing to help?”
“If you know that much about who I am and why I’m here, then you must know no one’s expecting results. I was sent because my supervisor needed to send someone. He thinks it’s a waste of resources, that there’s nothing to find. Basically, he wanted to get rid of me.”
Naomi didn’t have the slightest idea what Melanie was talking about. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re saying you know why I’m here, what I’m supposed to be doing, and you’re perfectly fine with it?” Melanie asked once again, her astonished expression now mixed with open disbelief.
“I don’t see a problem,” Naomi said.
“It really doesn’t matter to you?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter, and you’re asking me,” Melanie stated once more, as if to be really, really, really sure, and not merely really sure. “You’re familiar with my government background, you know why I’m here, and you’re asking me.”
“Your government background isn’t a deterrent in any way,” Naomi reassured her once again.
“Got it,” Melanie said; she still didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“I’m assuming you still have friends there?”
“Not friends.” Her face scrunched as if irritated. “I spent years trying to get ahead, surrounded by people snapping up the credit. I finally got sick of it and took a stand. My immediate supervisor took exception to that.” She spread her hands. “So, here I am.”
Naomi shook her head in bemusement. How could she not help but a
dmire such a woman? Years and years of dedication and service, and Melanie had thrown it all away to pursue a lifelong dream. Naomi couldn’t understand that particular dream herself, as the entire pharmaceutical industry seemed dreadfully dull to her, but surely Melanie’s inexplicable love of medicine or drugs or whatever it was had to have some appeal if she’d been willing to walk away from a lucrative, high-paying government job to follow her passions.
The elevator arrived once more. Both women ignored it. A short time later, it departed.
“Let me see if I understand,” Melanie said. “You’re acting independently of the others in your group and don’t want whoever’s ultimately in charge knowing about what you’re doing. Is that it?”
“I need to find this specific woman, but my time and options are limited. I can’t afford to wait.”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed. “Why her?” she asked testily. “What’s special about her?”
“She’s independent.”
Melanie waited. “And?”
“And I could tell after meeting her that there was something unusual and special about her.”
The look of disbelief returned. “You’re kidding, right? You’re interested in a ‘special someone,’ a woman you just met, but you’re afraid the powers that be will try and stop you from seeing her? That’s why you’re sneaking around, going behind everyone’s back?”
“My plan does involve a fair amount of sneaking. So, yes.”
Melanie’s finger repeatedly stabbed at the elevator button.
“Stop that,” Naomi hissed.
“If you want someone so badly, what’s wrong with me? Why not ask me?”
“I did ask you. I’ve officially lost track of how many times I’ve now asked you. Will you help me?”
Jab. Jab. Jab. Melanie was apparently incensed the elevator had yet to arrive in a timely manner. “Dear God, we’re speaking the same language, aren’t we? Why not ask me?”
Naomi shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not following.”
“I can be independent.”
