“The four scientific disciplines.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in this.”
“I like buildings, always have.”
“Why didn’t you become an architect?”
“Too much reading, you know how I am with that stuff. Anyway, it felt like I’d been...I don’t know, called to something else.”
“And if you hadn’t?”
Lionel shrugged.
“I don’t know. I never thought about it before my powers, not seriously, and after? Well, it seemed sealed in fate, so to speak.”
“What about being a fireman?” Her smile was teasing.
He burst out laughing.
“Oh yeah! That’s right, I liked the trucks. What did you want to be?”
“I don’t know. I think most of my time was spent just trying to survive Douglas.”
“And you did, beautifully.”
Alice felt heat rush to her face.
“I wonder sometimes, what my mother might think of me now. She was smart, but so suspicious of women doing anything except being a wife and mother.”
“But, she worked.”
“Because she had to. Mrs. Frost once told me that my mother wouldn’t let Uncle Logan and Aunt Diana come get us, because she didn’t approve of my aunt. I used to wonder about that until I found out who my aunt really was.”
“You think your mom knew?”
Alice nodded.
“And didn’t want me around it.”
“You’re worried she’s looking down on you and not happy with what you’ve become?”
“Something like that.”
He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. Alice felt her heart stop, there was so much naked admiration in his gaze. His fingertips lingered on her round cheek, a smile turning up the edges of his lips.
“I know she’d be proud of you.”
Alice felt the strangest mix of feelings. On one hand, she was touched by his sincerity, not realizing how much she’d needed someone to tell her that. On the other, a jolt of desire lanced through her body, filling her mind with images of their naked bodies entwined on her bed.
“Well, isn’t this sweet?”
Alice jumped at the voice and turned to see half a dozen men with pipes and knives surrounding them. The one who’d spoken came out from behind Lionel, a smirk on his oily face. His beady eyes raked up and down Alice in a way that made her stomach turn and her fists clench.
“Maybe we’ll have us some fun before turning you over to our boss.”
“You can try,” she said, throwing a punch at the goon nearest her.
He clutched his broken nose before she kicked him in the chest, shoving him into the man next to him. They both fell to the ground and Alice picked up the dropped pipe just in time to slam it into the next attacker’s throat, who clutched at his crushed windpipe in shock. She hit him again in the face, then grabbed the slit in her dress and yanked, opening it several inches, giving her room to maneuver.
One of the men lunged for her, catching at the sheer fabric attached to her shoulder strap, which ripped and threw her off balance. She fell hard to the ground, landing on her back and the man was on top of her before she could stand, punching her square in the face. The dress now allowed for her to kick, but she couldn’t get her legs free to flip the man. She tried to throw a punch, but her reach was too short and he pinned her arms down by her head. He looked at her torn dress, a lustful light in his eyes and leaned closer until she could smell the cheap wine on his breath. She turned away and his lips grazed her exposed neck. She fiercely bucked, trying to get her legs untangled from the damn dress, but her movements just seem to excite the man. His grubby fingers let go of one hand so he could try to slip his hand under the neck of her gown. Alice raked her fingernails down his face and he screamed, loosening his grip on her other wrist. She did it again with her freed hand just before he back-handed her.
As he swung his arm back for another blow, he was yanked off her.
She rolled over, quickly staggered to her feet, and took in the bodies lying around in various states of consciousness.
Lionel was holding the man who had been on top of her. He cocked back his arm and punched, without holding anything back.
“No!” she screamed, rushing toward him.
It was too late, the man’s head snapped back, his nose caved in. Lionel threw another punch, and another.
She grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Enough!”
He roared as he threw another punch into the man’s face.
“Lionel, stop!” She pulled harder.
He dropped the man onto the pavement, and with a snarl, turned in her direction.
Alice almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were wild, spittle flying from his mouth, and his breath came in unnatural pants. His face was so red Alice was afraid he would collapse at any moment.
“It’s Alice,” she said, holding out her hands. “It’s me. Lionel, please, calm down.”
Sirens blared in the distance, getting closer.
“We have to go,” she said, glancing at the man who lay in a bloody heap at Lionel’s feet. “Come with me, please.”
It was as if her words drained all the fury out of him. The tension was released in Lionel’s muscles and he sagged like a marionette with its strings cut. His breath was still rapid and ragged, but the light of rage had faded from his eyes.
He stared at Alice with remorse and shame.
“Oh god, no...no! Alice! I—”
The sirens were getting louder.
“We have to go,” she said again, pulling on his arm, this time to get him up and moving.
“I killed him.”
“Yes...but—”
“You go, I have to stay.”
“No, Lionel this isn’t you, something is wrong. We have to get you to Gerald.”
Lionel shook his head, never taking his eyes from the man.
Alice grabbed his face and turned it to her.
“I am not leaving without you. Now, get up and let’s go!”
“Maybe I can help.”
Alice’s head jerked up at Marco’s voice.
He was in his guise as Shadow Master, his eyes black and his powers already seeping toward Lionel. Within moments, Lionel was calm enough to stand up.
Alice stared at him. Shock and anger warring within her.
Was he following us?
Marco nodded toward a darkened alley across the way.
“Make for that alley and jump the roof tops until you’re back at the loft. I’ll get Gerald.”
She wanted to demand an explanation, but the police were almost there.
“Let’s go,” she said as Lionel picked her up.
When she turned to look for Marco, he was already gone.
When they got to the loft, Lionel tore off his suit jacket and tie, and went to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Soon after, the shower started.
Alice stared at the door.
Lionel killed someone.
Lionel lost control and killed someone.
The thoughts ran in a loop until she wished there was a way to open her skull and tear them out. Instead, she walked to the bar and grabbed the whiskey bottle. She held it in her hand, wondering if she could indulge just this once.
“No.” She set it down with a loud clunk. “Lionel needs me to be lucid. I can’t...God! If there was ever a time—”
She closed her eyes and wasn’t at all surprised at her tears. If there was any day that was made for crying, it seemed to be today. And that made her laugh, because she felt as if the day had stretched to encompass an entire week, with all she had experienced.
And that thought, in turn, made her cry again.
She’d made it to the couch by the time Lionel finally finished his shower. When he emerged, his blond hair stuck up all around and he’d left his shirt mostly unbuttoned, exposing his well-muscled chest. Despite how tired and
upset she was, Alice felt her body stir to see him in such disarray.
He sat down next to her, once again tense, like a coiled spring, and Alice wondered if he’d pop. That thought should have been frightening, after what she had seen him do, but it wasn’t.
“I never wanted you to see me like that...” His voice broke.
Alice was shocked to see tears running down his cheeks.
“What you must think of me.”
“No,” she said, her hands gentle on his face as she turned him to look at her. “It’s not your fault. I know it.”
He nuzzled into her hand in a way that reminded Alice of a puppy and her heart ached to make it all better. She brought him in close, laying his head on her chest as he clung to her.
She lay back, cradling his head, and they stayed like that for a while. Alice ran her fingers slowly through his hair as Lionel’s breathing became even and deep. As he slept, his face took on that charm of boyhood she remembered so well, and it made her smile.
“I would do almost anything for you,” she whispered. “For both of you.”
A frantic knock broke the silence and Lionel shot up, his eyes wide in fear.
“It’s Gerald,” said a muffled voice behind the door.
“Come in,” Alice said, getting up slowly. Her body was still a bit sore, plus her dress had become distinctly uncomfortable. She was surprised to see Marco come in behind Gerald. He looked from Lionel’s barely-buttoned shirt to her rumpled dress and hair, and walked to the kitchen to make coffee.
Alice had a sudden terrible need to tell Marco that nothing happened, that Lionel had fallen asleep and she’d just been his pillow, nothing more. And then she remembered that he’d been following them.
She opened her mouth to demand an answer to that, when Gerald interrupted, saying, “Why don’t you change? This is going to take a minute and that dress looks like it’s seen better days.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Lionel said, attempting levity, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
When she emerged a few minutes later in a soft bathrobe, Marco had poured coffee and laid out the sticky buns he’d baked a few days before. Even though he’d done things like this for months, there was a nervous energy about it tonight, as if he needed to keep busy more than ever before.
Alice was again about to ask Marco about following them when Lionel’s frightened voice stopped her.
“Well?”
Gerald sighed. “The toxin, or whatever it is, has...it’s hard to explain. I’m not even sure what I’m looking at, but it seems that it’s altered you, somehow. From what I’ve been told about what has been happening—”
“Been happening?” Alice asked. “This has happened before?”
“Twice,” Marco said. “Though not as...brutal.”
“Once, right after the scratch, and…the night you were gassed. I could feel it before we went in…I think that’s why I was so reckless. I didn’t want you to know,” Lionel said. “At least not until we could fix it.”
“And that’s just it,” Gerald said. “I’m not sure I can. This has possibly changed the aggression centers of the brain. You’ve spent a long time building control over your anger, because of your strength, and this is overriding that.”
“Can’t you just purge it?” Alice asked.
“I don’t think so, not without killing him.”
Alice paced, her mind reeling.
Whatever had been done to Lionel was from Phantasm, she was sure of that. But why do this to Lionel, why make him stronger, in a way?
“You love them, don’t you? What would you do if they were broken? What would happen if they died bloody?”
She gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
“What is it?” Marco asked.
Alice stared at Lionel and stammered out what Phantasm had said to her.
“That almost sounds like he’s punishing you,” Marco said. “But for what?”
“Douglas said that Percy and Phantasm had something over each other,” Alice said, pacing again. “We took Percy out and that must’ve set his retribution in motion.”
“What was it though?” Lionel asked.
“Something personal, would be my guess,” Gerald said.
“Why?” Alice asked.
“People like this, they don’t tend to scare easily and they usually have at least one thing they’d die for, one weakness, however well hidden, that can be exploited. Usually, it’s family or friends.”
“We could look at reports from around that time,” Marco said. “See if there were any murders that stick out.”
Alice felt her stomach turn. There was one murder that stuck out in her mind from that time.
I don’t know that...but, damn! Everything is starting to point to Victoria. I can’t think of that now though. I’ve got to help Lionel.
“Great,” Lionel said, yawning. “More reading, you know how much I love that.”
Her mind spun, thoughts fluttering around like leaves in a wind storm. Retribution, revenge. Innocent people killed. Lionel poisoned. His aggression centers altered...
“Oh god,” she whispered, a sick feeling settling in her gut.
“What?” Lionel asked.
“The research Rose and I have been doing, Tony Veran was working on something that was supposed to take out the aggression centers of the brain, or at least dull them for a time.”
Gerald nodded. “There was lots of talk about that kind of weapon after the war.”
“Only this didn’t work, it made all the subjects more aggressive.”
Three sets of eyes stared at her.
“I think...” She sank down onto the couch. “What if—”
“Tony Veran was working for the Syndicate?” Lionel asked.
“They wouldn’t have killed Tony, if that was the case,” Marco said.
“That just leaves Victoria,” Gerald said.
Lionel laughed. “What? C’mon, she’s a smart woman, I’ll grant you, but this kind of thing?”
“She’s a brilliant scientist in her own right,” Alice said.
“Why would she give that to the Syndicate?” Marco asked.
That was the question that had been nagging Alice since her conversation with Rose earlier. What Alice knew of the passionate, brilliant philanthropist and scientist didn’t line up with the monster that had drugged her.
There must be a way to either vindicate her or find out for certain.
“If we could break into the Veran Corporation,” Lionel said. “Maybe we could find an antidote or something.”
“Or the formula for what they dosed you with,” Marco said.
“That’s not going to be easy,” Gerald said. “And I doubt Garrick would back you up on it.”
“What choice to we have?” Lionel’s voice took on a desperate tone. “We have to fix this!”
Alice smiled as an idea formed.
“We don’t have to steal anything. We’re going to ask her for it.”
“We’re going to what?” Marco asked.
“I can go to her and ask for her help. If she didn’t give it to the Syndicate, then she’ll be confused, but will help us. And if she did, maybe she’s remorseful now, maybe she has no idea what they’ve done with it. Either way, it clears her.”
“And we’re back to square one,” Marco said.
“Yes, but at least we know she’s innocent.”
“But, if she refuses?” Lionel asked.
Alice sighed. “Then...”
“How will you do this without revealing any of us?” Marco asked.
“I’ll think of something. We have to try.”
They nodded.
“It’s better than breaking and entering,” Gerald said as he gathered his bag. “And Lionel, you might want to limit your fights, especially alone. Maybe stick with Marco, since he might be able to siphon off some of your anger if the need arises.”
Lionel tensed his jaw and nodded. Before Gerald had closed the door, Lionel was pouring hims
elf a generous whiskey and for several minutes he stared out the window, taking large gulps.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” he said when she stood next to him. “I wanted to do something nice for you—”
“And you did.”
He shook his head.
“There’s no use beating yourself up,” Marco said. “It won’t happen again.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ll be there, helping you.”
“Speaking of,” Alice turned to Marco, her face flushing with anger. “Why were you following us?”
Marco looked down, hands in his pockets.
“Well...I was worried.”
“About me,” Lionel whispered.
“Yes. If anything happened—”
“I’d never hurt her!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what?”
The two men stared at one another, Alice caught between them. She had the distinct feeling of being trapped between two angry animals.
“Stop it, this doesn’t help anything,” she said.
With one last glare, they turned away.
“You shouldn’t have followed us, Marco, but,” she took a deep breath, “I’m glad, in a way, that you did. I don’t think we could’ve gotten out of there without you.”
“Still, it wasn’t okay,” Lionel growled.
“No, it wasn’t.” Alice touched Lionel’s arm. “But neither was keeping this from me. You should know me better by now than to think I’d turn away from you.”
Lionel swirled the whiskey in his glass, staring at it a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” Marco said.
Alice nodded. “Okay, now that we’ve got that taken care of, I need some sleep.”
“I’ll get the cots.” Lionel downed the rest of his whiskey. “You get the sheets.”
Before Alice turned to go into her room, she caught Marco’s eye for just a moment. She remembered the way he’d looked at her when they’d almost kissed and swore she saw a glimpse of heat in his gaze before he turned away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alice stumbled out of her room in the morning, stifling a yawn so she didn’t wake anyone up. She was surprised to see Marco already awake, until she noticed that his cot looked like it had hardly been slept in. He was still in the black shirt and pants that were part of his Shadow suit. The rest of his gear lay on his empty cot. He sat on the couch, a cup of coffee in front of him and a novel by a new author named Heinlein, open on his lap.
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