Lionel let out a sudden, rumbling snore and turned over, muttering something about clams.
They both stifled giggles, not wanting to wake him.
Marco’s hair flopped down into his eyes and before he could brush it back, Alice reached to run her fingers through it. She’d done it hundreds of times before, but this time was different somehow. When she was done, Marco’s dark eyes were intense on hers, the merest trace of longing in them.
“You need a haircut,” Alice whispered.
“I don’t have time.”
“Do you like that book?” she asked, wanting to focus on something, anything, other than how tempting it was to run her hands through his hair again.
“It’s alright. I think I like Asimov better.”
Alice nodded and went to get a cup of coffee. Not wanting to just sit and stare at the wall, she plucked a book from one of her shelves and sat next to Marco. She felt her shoulders relax and her mind let go of its constant whirling as she sipped her coffee and read.
She had no idea how long they sat like that, but when Marco finally spoke, her coffee was gone and the sun had just fully risen above the horizon.
He set his book down on the coffee table by his cup.
“I know you may not want to talk about this, but...we have to.”
Alice felt her stomach flip.
It’s about yesterday, almost kissing him. I knew it! I’ve made him uncomfortable. But it was nothing...really.
“Wh-what do you want to talk about?” she whispered.
“Victoria.”
A whoosh of air flew out of her mouth, but the relief was short lived. As much as she didn’t want to hear that Marco was upset by what happened yesterday, talking about Victoria wasn’t the alternative she’d wanted.
“I know this is hard for you, but we have to consider the facts.”
“None of it makes sense though, what’s the reason she would do any of this?”
“Fear...” He closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen people want to do because of it.”
“Afraid of what? The Third Reich fell, she married the love of her life, and is one of the most powerful women in the country.”
“No, she isn’t. She was married to a powerful man — she was a wife. No one believed in her or treated her as the real power in that corporation. And if she had to hide her real identity, just to work with Tony’s research after the war, what else has she had to do? You know better than most what the world sees when it looks at a woman who wants something more.”
Alice closed her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her lips.
“Alright, but how is working with the Syndicate—”
“Or leading it.”
“How is that getting her what she wants, whatever that might be?”
“I don’t know. But, maybe, you could find out when you talk to her. As difficult as it will be, you have to be dispassionate about her to find out the truth.”
Alice stared ahead, her mind spinning over dozens of different possibilities and connections that might answer her question, but in the middle of it all was a raw nerve of disappointment and anger.
This woman had been the person she’d remember every time a man in her business class would pinch her rear or tell her she was lost. Every time a professor marked her paper more harshly than the other students or overlooked her in discussions. Every person that treated her as less intelligent and worthy of notice, simply because she was a woman. Rebelling against all these things was used by Alice to help spur her on.
And when it got to be too much, all she had to do was remember how her aunt and Victoria had carved out lives for themselves, despite all opposition. If Victoria could do it, she could, too.
Alice had felt a kinship with Victoria and despite everything that pointed to her being Phantasm, Alice still did.
What does that say about me?
“Do you think...” Alice paused, her small fingers winding through Marco’s long ones. “Do you think Phantasm, whoever it is, had something to do with Aunt Diana’s death?”
Marco sighed, his eyes hooded by furrowed brows. “Probably.”
She turned away as a sick anger began welling up inside of her.
After a moment, she could feel warm strong arms pull her close. She rested her head on Marco’s chest, and the curve of her body melded perfectly into his. The gentle sound of his heart calmed her mind, creating a peaceful island in the middle of so much uncertainty.
She trusted what Marco had promised, that he would never use his powers on her without her permission. But there were moments, like this one, when she had wonder how it was possible to feel so at home in someone’s arms.
Lionel’s loud snore jolted her out of such thoughts and Marco’s arms fell away. Lionel’s head jerked up, blond hair spiked as though he’d been electrocuted. He squinted at them, lips pouting as if he were angry he’d awakened himself.
“What time?”
“Early,” Marco said, standing up. “There’s coffee and food in the fridge that even Alice can’t mess up by reheating.”
“I’ve gotten very good at reheating, thank you very much.”
She smiled up at him as Marco laughed and walked to the door as if he couldn’t wait to leave.
“You could stay for breakfast,” Alice said, stopping him just before he closed the door.
He smiled. “No thanks. I should...well, your date was interrupted and I don’t feel like being a third wheel.”
“You’re not.”
“It’s okay, really. I gotta get ready for work.”
Alice was confused by the feeling of rejection that stabbed at her. Yet when she turned and saw a shirtless Lionel grinning at her with a mouthful of stale sticky bun, the feeling evaporated.
“So, gorgeous,” he said around a second bite. “What should we do today?”
It took all day for Alice to convince Victoria’s snooty secretary that a meeting was vitally important.
“I have to inform Mrs. Veran as to the nature of this meeting,” said the woman, her voice pinched and nasal. “I can’t schedule something just because your dead aunt was a friend of Mrs. Veran’s.”
Alice wished she had the power to reach through the phone and knock the woman senseless. Instead, she remembered Mrs. Frosts advice for dealing with difficult people and took a deep breath.
“I understand the difficulty,” Alice said, every muscle straining to keep her voice strong, yet soft. “And I can assure you that this isn’t a social call. It’s...” Alice took another quick breath. She had to be delicate, say just the right thing. “It’s regarding something of scientific importance. I believe she would be keen to hear me out.”
There was a hesitation on the other end and Alice held her breath.
“I see. I may be able to let you have an afternoon appointment tomorrow.”
“That would be lovely,” Alice gushed.
The next day, Alice stepped out of a cab in front of Victoria’s beautiful home, her stomach roiling with nerves. Dressed in what she hoped was a respectably modest blue pencil skirt and sleeveless, boat-neck blouse, Alice took several deep breaths as she stared at the Veran’s front door.
“Now or never,” she said to herself and knocked.
A chubby man with a sour expression soon answered. When she told him who she was, he gestured for her to follow him.
Alice felt her pulse quicken as her black heels echoed in a quick rhythm on the white and gray marble floor. They walked past two different rooms, both with doors shut tight. As they approached the third room, the door opened, and a large man stepped out with his back to Alice.
When he turned to face her, the world slowed and became silent. The air left her lungs in a rush of shock, and her pulse stopped and sped up all at once.
Standing there, single eye glaring at her, was Baritone.
Instinctively, her hands clenched and her feet widened into a defensive stance.
Baritone looked like he was about to
walk past her, but then his one eye narrowed, the scar that ran under his patch puckering. He was a few feet from her and she could smell the tang of his cologne.
“We must not keep Mrs. Veran waiting,” the butler said. “She is a very busy woman.”
The words brought her crashing back into the world around her.
“Yes, of course...”
She swallowed and tore her eyes from Baritone, who hadn’t moved. She walked past him, sweat trickling down her now shaking body, feeling the man’s gaze on her. She knew he wouldn’t move until she was out of sight. Whatever doubts Alice had been clinging to disappeared. She had no choice now but to accept the truth.
Victoria was Phantasm.
The butler opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter.
It was the last thing Alice wanted to do, but she thought of Lionel and squared her shoulders.
She could do this — she had to.
It was a beautiful room. Any other time Alice would’ve loved sitting in one of the soft pink and gray chairs, sipping tea, and reading one of the hundreds of books that lined the white shelves. The faint smell of jasmine floated on the quickly warming air and Alice could feel the faintest breeze from the open French doors and ceiling fans.
“So good to see you,” Victoria said, giving Alice a gentle embrace. “I must say, you look tired — not sleeping?”
Alice felt her skin crawl at Victoria’s touch, but forced her smile to widen.
“Oh, yes. Bad dreams, nothing to worry about.”
“Some believe that bad dreams are our conscience trying to expel guilt.” Victoria’s eyes took on a hard glint for a moment.
Have some experience with that, do we?
Just then, the butler arrived with a tray of cakes and iced tea. Once the butler had served each of them, he placed the tray on a side table and left, closing the door.
"I hope you weren't too startled by the man who just left." Victoria took a dainty sip of tea.
Alice was spared trying to make a response by nibbling on a cake.
"He's a ghastly-looking fellow,” Victoria continued. “But after what happened with Tony and the children...well, I felt that I needed some security. He's the best body guard money can buy, apparently. Though I wonder how many decent people he may frighten away along with the dangerous ones."
Alice wanted to believe her, but just couldn’t.
"Do you think you'll be attacked again?" she asked in the most sincere tone she could muster.
"Anything is possible. And in my experience, it's best to err on the side of caution. Oh, I almost forgot! I was going to call and ask if you’d like to help with the Park Side Clinic celebration. It’s ten days away and I’m desperate for volunteers.”
“Anything to help Gerald and the clinic. What are you planning?”
The question felt horribly loaded to Alice.
“There’s this huge open field, of sorts, where an old warehouse used to be, right by the old paper processing plant.”
Alice smiled. “I know it well, it used to be one of my favorite haunts.”
“I had forgotten you grew up there.” Something in Victoria’s tone said that she hadn’t forgotten at all. “Anyway, I’m going to host a sort of party for the neighborhood, to celebrate the opening of the new clinic.”
“Are you going to make the rich of Jet City mingle with the poor of Park Side? Won’t that make some enemies for you on the board?” Alice asked.
Victoria shrugged.
“Perhaps. But I think they’ve been too separate from the people they are supposed to be helping. I expect some very good things to come out of this event. I’ve ordered huge tents and game booths. I want to make it a family event. Maybe bring in new clients for the clinic.”
“What kind of help do you need?”
“Why don’t you run one of the booths. Maybe put Miss Grace and her friends in their place by telling them what to do.”
Alice choked on her tea.
“You’ve got some of the board and their families volunteering?”
Victoria laughed.
“Yes! And it took some doing, let me tell you. Can I count on you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.”
“How are your other interests doing?” Alice asked.
Victoria’s smile tightened just a little.
“What other interests?”
“The Science Foundation. Who is spearheading the staffing, now that Dr. Veran is gone?”
“Me, of course,” Victoria said.
“It is good of the board to not cause too much of a fuss over your involvement. I imagine it’s been difficult for you, since Dr. Veran’s death.”
“Yes, it has, but I have been involved in the Science Foundation from the beginning, so they are quite used to me by now. But enough about that, I don’t think you came over here this afternoon to talk about me. What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Alice took a deep breath. “You see, a friend of mine was recently attacked. He was injected with a toxin that has made it difficult to control his anger. I have been reading about your husband’s ground-breaking work in behavioral science and was wondering if he ever did any experiments with anything that might help?”
It was a thin story, but she hoped that by drawing on the persona of a somewhat helpless young woman, she could sell it. She watched as Victoria took a slow drink of her tea, then folded her hands in her lap.
“I think he did do some work in that area, but I don’t see how I can help you.”
“If he kept copies of his research here at home, perhaps a chemist you know might be able to engineer a cure?”
Victoria smiled at her, and then, pity oozing from her voice, said, “It must be hard to watch your friend suffer and not be able to help him. I know how that feels. But unfortunately, if my husband did do work for the Army, and I showed that work to a fellow scientist, Tony’s reputation would be tarnished, people would think he was a traitor, and I can't have that.”
Alice felt her pulse quicken. If seeing Baritone hadn’t been proof enough, Victoria’s careless slip was.
“I never said anything about the project being from his time with the Army,” Alice said, hoping her voice wasn’t as accusing as it sounded.
Victoria paused, then smiled at Alice.
“You didn't need to, I knew what project you meant. Tony was always very open with me about his work.”
“Did he ever mention one of his research assistants with this project, a V.G. Muller? Maybe I could talk to him?”
Alice could swear she saw Victoria jerk a little, as if someone had poked her with a sharp object.
“He mentioned him, of course, but Dr. Muller died in the accident that wounded Tony. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this.”
Then how is Muller’s signature on the last experiment a week later. Why are you doing this Victoria?
A very familiar, very angry voice interrupted the awkward silence that had settled on them.
“I do not care if she is in a meeting! I will see her this instant!” Mrs. Frost said.
The butler ran into the room and opened his mouth to say something when Mrs. Frost charged into the room.
“Victoria, you have crossed a line and I will not have it!”
Victoria set her iced tea down and gave Mrs. Frost a benign smile.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“You have enlisted the help of the Philanthropic Society to force the Mayor and City council—” Mrs. Frost began.
“Force is a strong word.”
“—to legalize the use of Police officers who have been altered by drugs!”
Alice could only stare. This had to be dream. How could she really be hearing and seeing all this?
“Come now, Mrs. Frost,” Victoria said. “They aren’t drugs. Really, you make me sound like a petty criminal.”
Or a not so petty one.
“I am concerned by the increase in these...well, individuals wit
h, shall we say, special abilities,” Victoria said. “If the vigilantes are allowed to operate outside of the law, what will stop others? And those others may not try to stop crime, but cause it. Do you have any idea how potentially destructive these people are? The police aren’t equipped to handle them.”
Alice cleared her throat, feeling it tighten in panic.
“What special abilities are you referring to?”
In answer, Victoria held out a manila folder.
Alice opened it with some trepidation. Inside were clippings of newspaper articles with notes in what she assumed was Victoria’s own hand. The notes were interviews she’d conducted with anyone who’d been saved by the Jet City vigilantes. Further down in the pile were clippings from Metro City, and a place Alice had never heard of, Desert Springs.
All of them had to do with strange goings on, people either saved by those with strange talents and abilities, or those who had been harmed by them. One particularly disturbing article talked about a group of boys and men that were found in an alley, their bodies completely drained of water. Another spoke of a young boy, who reportedly made a tree grab the school-yard bully and squeeze him so hard his ribs broke.
Most of the articles were from papers that Alice had never heard of and were likely small presses. But the Jet City and Metro City articles were from respectable newspapers.
She bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of the right way to respond.
“Really Victoria!” Mrs. Frost said. “Half of these clippings are from newspapers that aren’t worth the paper they were printed on! Are you giving in to hysteria based on gossip rags?
“There were rumors,” Victoria said, ignoring Mrs. Frost’s comment. “Of the Nazi’s conducting experiments on people to try to make super-soldiers. Though the United States condemned such practices, they too tried to unlock what was believed to be the hidden potentials of the human body and mind.”
Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1) Page 29
