by Melos,Alana
VILLAINESS #2:
THE PRINCE OF CUPS
by
Alana Melos
The Prince of Cups
Book 2 of the Villainess Series
Copyright © Alana Melos
Model Cover Photo © cokacoka @ depositphotos
All other artwork, graphic cover design, logo art, and graphic text © Jotham “Pipes” Talbot
Published: December 5th, 2015
Publisher: Alana Melos
The right of Alana Melos to be identified as the author of this Work is asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Characters and locations are fictitious or used fictitiously. All characters are at least 18 years old. All sexual acts portrayed in this work of fiction are consensual.
Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/cfQK35
Author's Blog: http://alanamelos.blogspot.com
Author's email: [email protected]
Author's Twitter: @Alana_Melos
Contents:
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR'S NOTES
EXCERPT FROM VILLAINESS #3: THE PRINCESS OF WANDS
LINKS TO OTHER WORKS
Prologue
A long time ago, people didn’t know what metas were. They were around, but low key, underpowered. You’d read about them all the time in the tabloids or papers… the people who’d answer the phone knowing who it was, the ones that saw ghosts, the ones who had freakishly good reflexes which were still in the realm of human possibility. You could call some of them the top of the top, best of the best. There was some sort of Event (and yeah, they capitalize it) which made those people even better, and gave the rest of the normal joes some sort of jolt too. In some ways, everyone’s a metahuman now, and as time has gone by, they’ve gotten stronger and stronger. We have collectively as a race grown into what some call the next stage of evolution. It’s just that some of us are a lot more powerful now, and this cosmic Event helped people grow into their potential, whatever it may be.
When the first enhanced meta revealed himself in a really spectacular way saving thousands of people, people hailed him as a hero. He gathered metahumans and together they forged a superhero group--that noise you hear is my eyes rolling hard right now, by the by--and started about making the world one big country. It backfired, big time. I won’t go into the details because it’s ancient history now, but suffice it to say my parents were instrumental in their downfall, and the collapse of the global government. I live in the world now partly made by villains, partly made by the heroes...a mish mash of order and anarchy. White and black hats live together, fight each other, and try like hell to finish molding the world in their image. No one’s gotten the upper hand again as everyone is suspicious of any group, any person, anything getting too much power. I’m told it’s much like living during the Cold War, something way, way before my time.
Even though most of the big names are dead or retired, “super” groups still remain. Some get the idea they can protect humanity, others try to take it over, and others yet just want to make a fast buck somehow, either by hiring out their services or by stealing. I’d never seen the advantage of being attached to a group, having to follow their rules, doing their things… but after the whole deal with Sadowski, well, let’s just say getting a job has been a little hard now. Other fixers don’t want to come near me, and even though I could swear up and down he’d been selling me out--and it was the fucking truth he was--they just didn’t want to take the chance.
I needed people to run interference for me… and… this is hard to admit… keep me in check when I needed to be. I wouldn’t say I got “out of control” often. It was more like hardly ever… because everything I did I meant to do. There wasn’t a rash action in my body anywhere, yet the randomness of my actions made it appear I was, well, random. My father often said if it wasn’t for my mother watching his back, he wouldn’t have made it to retirement. My mother often rolled her eyes at the thought of working with people… yet she always had. Come to think of it, maybe that was why she rolled her eyes at it. They’d both lived through hard lives to retire on a private island… but would they have if they’d done it alone?
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing having someone watch your back.
Chapter One
I knelt on the edge of a rooftop looking down on the cold, dark street. As always, I kept up my telepathic scans, trying to look for danger… and in this particular case, my target. Jobs had gotten hard to come by since my last big unpaid job for Sadowski, the bastard, and while Michael had gotten his payday, I hadn’t. Sadowski hadn’t planned to pay me because of the double-cross he’d engineered, and I had been more concerned with teaching him a lesson than getting what was due. That had, perhaps, been a mistake. Rent was coming due now, and without a fixer’s help, scaring up rent money meant I had to find my own work. It wasn’t turning out too well.
The job I was currently on was easy enough. It was a straight kill. I didn’t need to make it look like an accident, or a suicide, or any of that other nonsense… but it was only ten grand for a hit. That was petty cash. Of course, the guy I was after was just an accountant, so it wasn’t like I was going up against a meta or anything. No, he’d just looked a little too closely at a mob boss’s accounts and decided he’d go to the police. Not smart, accountant guy. Not smart at all. To create plausible deniability, the boss hired out instead of having one of his crew do it. Fucking bastards knew I was hard up for cash--word got around quickly in the seedy underside of the city--and while I’d negotiated up from five thousand for the hit, ten thousand was still far below my normal level of payment. I forced a smile and took it. I had to rebuild my rep somehow, and if I could keep negotiating up… well, let’s just say I was avoiding the Doctor for right now too, since my bills there were becoming perilously close to being late.
I wasn’t used to being poor. It sucked.
Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers and each journey started with one step and all that jazz. I’d build up my rep again. When I saw my target, I quickly established a light mental connection with him, ‘pinging’ him on my radar if you will, just so I couldn’t lose him no matter what. At least unless another psychic cut the cord. I lowered my mask and started walking along the rooftop with him below, keeping pace. My outfit was all leather today, even a biker’s jacket, simply because it was a lot easier to clean blood off of leather than cloth, and it hugged my lean curves yet gave me enough room to move easily. My long blonde hair was braided and hung down my back in a thick tail, swinging down to the middle of my back. The mask was porcelain, strengthened so it wasn’t as delicate or easy to break as you’d think. I liked the dullness of it today, and it was a simple mask, a blank face. No expression today. I wasn’t happy to be scraping the bottom of the barrel.
I wore the mask to protect my face… and to prevent identification. My face cost me a lot of money. Yeah, I had good genetics to work from, but I
still had every little imperfection removed because I couldn’t stand to be less than what I could be. That reason alone was why this bottom-feeding rankled me so much. As I paced my prey, I reminded myself that I started from the ground once and I could do it again. I’d be stronger for it, too, and wiser.
My mark kept walking along the bright lights and busy sidewalks. Like almost everyone else in the city, he didn’t have a car. There was plenty of energy--the emergence of the metahumans had really advanced tech by leaps and bounds and had solved the energy crisis--but not enough parking. It was easier to commute or walk. He’d just come off of the subway and was heading home on foot. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hit him on the streets or if I wanted to do it in his apartment. I know the mob boss I’d contracted out to wanted to make sure the cops knew it wasn’t him, so I’d toyed with the idea of doing in front of a street cam. I hadn’t made up my mind yet.
I didn’t want to take too much time with this. In the end, I decided to wait for a sheltered part of the city, maybe an alley or a darkened street. I read his mind quickly to get his route home, and then planted the suggestion to take a short cut. That was playing close to my ‘no mind control’ rule, but I kept it as a suggestion, rather than a command. He didn’t have to follow it; his mind merely presented him another option. I cut a fine line there, but I didn’t want to make this a bloodbath. If I had to kill him on the street in front of witnesses, I would. If I had to kill him at home in front of his family, I would. If he took a side street, I could take him when he was alone and spare myself some extra effort, and any extra heat from executing multiple people. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but since I was building up my reputation again as a professional, this would be the best way. It would be a clean, precise hit.
When I had to cross the street, I flew quietly to the next rooftop over to keep next to my target. Another two blocks, and the suggestion sank in; he turned down a mostly unpopulated street, and then into an alley. I jumped down and landed quiet as a shadow behind him, my sword already drawn. Without further ado, I stabbed through his side and up crosswise, to do the most damage possible in one strike. I knew I got his kidney, and perhaps part of his intestines. I twisted my sword in the wound and jerked it out. My mark gasped and fell, blood pouring from the vicious stab.
Stretching out with my telepathy, his pain echoed through my body, and I savored it. His terror and pain rang through my head, mirroring faintly in me what was happening in him. I stood there over him, stealing his emotions for my own. It was a pale imitation of what he was feeling, but I filtered it through nevertheless, sorted it out, and filed it away for later contemplation. He knew why he was being killed too, and he couldn’t understand how people had known so quickly. He’d only just reported the information just a few hours ago, and people were watching--
Before I had a chance to process that thought, a blast hit me from behind, sending me flying down the alley. I hit and bounced off the ground, and then skidded the rest of the way, partly on my face. The mask cracked and a piece sheared off under the onslaught of friction. When I slid to a stop, I used my telekinesis to lift me to my feet and turn around all in one smooth motion. A man landed not far from where I had come to a stop, dressed in a black and blue uniform: one of the meta division from the local ICPD. “You’re under arrest,” he said, his voice authoritative. The dark visor of his helmet concealed his eyes, and I could tell he was fit and lean under the sharp lines of the uniform.
A piece of my mask dangled from the strengthened backing so I snapped it off and cast it aside, exposing my chin and mouth. “Shouldn’t you help the poor guy?” I asked, raising my sword as I prepared to defend myself.
“He’s as good as dead,” the cop said, lightning crackling around his hands.
“Not if you fly him to the closest hospital,” I pointed out, wondering if holding the equivalent of a lightning rod was a good idea. Dropping my sword, I held out my hands as if to be cuffed. “You can save him, or arrest me.”
He didn’t turn away, more interested in taking me in than saving their informant. So much for public servants. The lightning around his hands increased in intensity and he raised them both. A second later, he cut loose with jagged lines of electricity. I threw up a telekinetic shield, and the lightning splashed over it, dissipating as it hit the invisible wall.
“You’re not getting away,” he said.
“Maybe you’re not getting away,” I taunted and reached out with my mind… then frowned. I could see him there, a beacon of light and color, but I couldn’t touch him. I redoubled my efforts, and felt something invisible flex underneath my mental onslaught, but it wouldn’t break. “You have psychic protection.” That was new… and not good.
The cop smiled slightly and strode forward, throwing bolt after bolt at me. I channeled all my energy and focus into the shield, but with each jolt, my feet slid back. First an inch, then three. Then a half a foot. I could do a lot of things with my teke, but he made me pour as much power as I could into the shield to protect myself. Screw this, I thought. Target’s dead, time to rabbit. I diverted as much energy as I could to take off into the air while maintaining my shield and grabbing my sword telekinetically. As I flew up, I tasted freedom… for a second. Something looped around my foot and yanked me down. I cushioned the fall as best as I could, but still landed heavy on my side, and my blade went skittering away from me. A rib cracked, and I winced in pain. When I glanced at my caught foot, I saw a ribbon of electricity dissipating slowly. He wasn’t just a blaster of electricity, but a manipulator of it, able to use it for a variety of purposes. This didn’t bode well.
He lashed out again with his lightning and I deflected it, pulling my sword back to me. Yeah, it conducted electricity, but with the way he was blasting, I’d be out of reserves in a matter of a few seconds and I needed a weapon. I curled my fingers around the handle and brought it close. He’d closed the distance between us, and I got to my feet slowly. We circled each other. His electricity still danced around his hands, it was a bit dimmer than before. Maybe he couldn’t keep up the onslaught. When he lashed out again, I dodged this time. Both static and exhaustion licked around the edges of my body. My reflexes were slower, and having had to block so many times, so hard, and so fast drained me quicker than I’d thought. He swept the alley, making me have to jump and hover to avoid the lightning. I charged, dive-bombing him. My blade was true, and I struck home… but he twisted, and the edge deflected off of his armor.
This guy wasn’t a slouch, and he’d blocked my most effective weapon: my telepathy. Paranoia began to rise up in me, and the thought that I was set up… again… rang in my head. “Who sent you?” I demanded as we faced off.
“Just doing my duty,” he said, shooting out a lick of electricity, forcing me to move to the side. I was a hair’s breath from the wall, and I scooted alongside it, jabbing out with my sword, forcing him to keep his distance.
“Your duty is dying right over there,” I said, nodding my head towards the accountant. I blinked behind the mask as realization hit me. “You didn’t even call for backup. You don’t care about him. This is to get me.” You know what they said about paranoia… it wasn’t paranoid if they really were out to get you.
He lunged, his fists alight with pale blue lightning. I parried with my blade, and a jolt of electricity raced down the sword and up my arm, causing it to go numb. I ducked his other fist and rabbit punched him in the side, ineffectively due to his armor. The cop swiveled, backhanding the empty air as I ducked then rolled. I came up on my feet again, dancing closer to the mouth of the alley. If this was personal, then it would be better to bring it to a more open forum. Anything could happen behind closed doors and veiled shadows.
My hand and arm were still numb, but I forced myself to keep hold of my sword, using both hands as if it were a bastard sword. I lost some range, but gained speed with strikes using it this way, if the numbness didn’t fuck up my aim too much. He must have sensed my intention as the next strike forc
ed me away from the mouth of the alley when I dodged. I lashed out with my teke, trying to trip him up, and knocked him back instead. With his momentary disorientation, I took to the skies again, reaching the top of the building. I inwardly gloated for a moment, reveling in the fight and that I’d lived… and then the lightning hit me. I shrieked, not prepared for it. The sky fell away from me as I crashed. I tried to cushion my fall as I had before. Light danced through my eyes as I landed hard on the ground, even with the telekinetic cushioning.
That was all it took. That’s how fast it was. You either had the upper hand or you didn’t, and I didn’t.
Dazed, I tried to regain my feet, but he kicked away my blade and was on top of me. He ripped the mask off and cast it aside, tearing some of my hair out in the process. He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look directly into his reflective visor. “It is you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I knew it. It’s my lucky day.” He turned my head away so I couldn’t see him, which was smart. It was easier to attack through my teke if I could see the target. Rattled as I was, trying to rally any energy around me for an assault without line of sight was impossible.
“What am I to you?” I coughed out, looking around for anything to use. Electricity jolted through me. Pain raced through my body as I convulsed. I couldn’t even scream. Nothing was under my control. When he lifted his hand, I could see wisps of smoke curling up from my face.
“About a month ago,” the cop said, turning my face back to look at him, “my brother in law took something home from work, a sword. The next day, the criminal who it belonged to took it back from his house… and left my sister’s and nephew’s head on the mantle in return.” He leaned in and I could smell the minty gum he’d been chewing. “I was so hoping I’d run into you, some day.”
Oops. Yet more fallout from that job. If I wasn’t regretting it before, I sure as hell was now. I tried to say something to defend myself, but his tasering had worked too well. All I could do was grunt. Feeling was coming back pretty fast, but I didn’t have regenerative powers. Even as I thought that, he zapped me again. I cried out, but it was an involuntary action, my body responding to the tasering. More smoke drifted up and away, and I blinked, trying to clear my head and make my body move.
