Villainous

by Brand, Kristen

  “Eddy…stay. Julio, w-w-w—” I gave up and motioned with my hand for Julio to follow me.

  Eddy heaved himself to his feet as Julio and I continued down the hall. There was a staircase to the second floor and a door leading to a screened-in porch in the back of the house, and Dr. Sweet hadn’t left a trail of footprints to show which way he’d gone. So which would it be, hm? Would he take the door and run away, or take the stairs to grab whatever else he had stashed in this madhouse to fight us with?

  “I’ll check outside. You take upstairs,” Julio said, so he must think the doc had run for it. The kid would never take the safe route and leave me to face danger alone. I didn’t have the means to argue, so I started up the steps as he slipped out the door.

  The stairs creaked, of course. With the state of the old wood, I’d be grateful if they just creaked and didn’t collapse beneath my weight. The staircase turned at a right angle halfway up, and everything got darker the further I ascended. Not daring to lower my gun, I paused on the steps and struggled to pull my night-vision goggles back up one-handed. Eventually, I managed it, and as I continued up, the smell of decay that I’d noticed when I first entered the house grew stronger.

  At the top of the stairs was a straight hallway that mirrored the one on the ground floor. There was no sound to indicate another person’s presence yet, no shuffling or breathing, but that didn’t prove that he wasn’t here somewhere. The sound of rain hitting the roof was louder up here, and without the sounds of a gunfight to cover it up, wind pushing against the house and distant rumbles of thunder were audible, if barely. But my hearing was still recovering from me firing a gun right next to my head, so maybe it was louder than I thought. This was getting ridiculous. My telepathy wasn’t working, I couldn’t speak, and now I’d damaged my hearing. Someone ought to blind me and be done with it.

  I went through the first doorway on the left, intending to search each room methodically. This had been a bedroom—no, it was still a bedroom. The metal bed frame looked ancient, but the mattress and sheets atop it were new. Chairs with moldy cushions, a rusted metal space heater, and various debris had been pushed against the wall to clear space. The closet door had broken off, and there were two pale garments that looked like lab coats hanging inside. Was this where he’d been sleeping since breaking out of the Inferno? I shuddered. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t here now. Next room.

  It was a small bathroom, the floor tiles cracked and missing in places, the mirror broken, and the toilet a bowl of disease. The walls were stained, and I’d be tempted to think I was the first person who’d been here in years, if it weren’t for the rubber gloves and surgical knife resting on the sink. Those looked new.

  Something creaked behind me. I swung around gun first, but there was nothing. Just the old house making noises? Maybe. I longed to reach out with my telepathy and reassure myself no one was there, but this was Dr. Sweet we were talking about. I’d never been able to sense his mind, so it wouldn’t have mattered even if I could use my powers.

  I moved on to the next room, and that’s when I had to suppress my gag reflex. There was no furniture here, nothing to indicate what purpose the room had served before, just corpses. They were laid out in two rows on the floor, pale sheets covering them. This was definitely the source of the smell. There had to be almost a dozen of them. Had Dr. Sweet killed them all in the past twenty-four hours? They didn’t stink nearly bad enough to have been lying here since his arrest two months ago. But then, the way the psyc had been produced even while Sweet was in prison pointed to someone else taking over when he was gone. Unless Sweet had added him or her to the collection of corpses (which was quite probable, all things considered), that meant one more mad scientist could be lurking around.

  The lack of furniture and closets meant there was nowhere in the room to hide, unless Sweet was lying perfectly still under one of the sheets, pretending to be a corpse. And that was…exactly the kind of thing a sick freak like him would do, actually. I resisted the urge to groan, steeled my stomach, and walked up to the first human-shaped lump. The only way to be thorough was to check each and every one.

  I bent down, grabbed the very edge of the stained sheet between by thumb and forefinger, and pulled.

  It wasn’t Dr. Sweet, at least. A very dead, surprisingly dry corpse greeted me. (It should be much juicier. How could it be so dry in this humidity?) The top of its head had been neatly sawed off, blood staining the wood under it. I didn’t take a closer look, but I’d bet the DSA’s budget that there was no brain in there. You know Dr. Sweet took it out. The next room would probably have jars of brains lined up on a shelf, just you wait.

  My gag reflex was behaving admirably, so I moved on to the next one. And if I seemed callous, keep in mind that I’ve seen plenty of corpses during my career, lots of them in far worse shape than this one. I reached for the next sheet—and the wall exploded.

  The impact threw me sideways atop the body, and tall orange flames erupted with a roar from the next room—the room I’d have gone into next if I hadn’t stopped to survey the corpses. The heat on my face made my scars burn in awful memory, and a crash indicated that the floor in the next room had just collapsed. I shoved myself to my feet and dashed for the stairs. The room below the collapsed floor was the one across from where Mary was being held. The fire would spread fast. I had to get Dave out.

  I jumped down the stairs two at a time and tore the goggles from my face as I reached the ground floor. The light in the hallway had a flickering, orange tint to it, and the air already smelled like smoke. No flames in the hall yet, though. Just Eddy, one hand clutching his head and the other hanging limply but still grasping his gun.

  Wait, was that the sound of gunfire? It sounded far off, though it could just be muffled because of my hearing. Had Julio found Dr. Sweet? He must have. Otherwise, he’d have dashed into the burning building to try and save us by now.

  “Edd-dy!” I tried to shout. “We have… have to…”

  The heat intensified as I got closer to him, and glancing at the door to my right was like looking through a doorway to hell. The fire inside was so bright that I had to squint. Not good. The rain might slow down the spread of the flames somewhat, but this was a wooden house. We didn’t have much time.

  “Follow me,” I told Eddy.

  “Sure,” he said.

  Then he lifted his gun and shot me in the stomach.

  Chapter 18

  The pain knocked me back two steps. It always amazed me how something as small as a bullet could hurt so much. It felt like I’d been impaled with a flagpole, and the bullet hadn’t even penetrated me.

  “Oh, right,” Eddy said. “You’re wearing a vest.”

  He lowered his aim and fired again. Agony exploded in my thigh, dropping me to the floor. I gasped and raised my gun, pointing it shakily at the man who was more a father to me than my actual father.

  “Go on.” Mary’s smirk contorted his face. “Shoot him. I don’t care.”

  “W-Wha—”

  “He stumbled a little too close to me during the explosion,” Mary explained. “I’d tell you to dock his pay, but that assumes you’ll be doing something in the future other than dying horribly.”

  “I’ll sh-sh-shhoot.”

  She laughed. “My God, Val, are you stuttering? You’re stuttering. You know, I’ve wanted to kill you for ages, but now I actually feel kind of bad. Look at you. This’ll be like putting down a sick old dog.”

  I put pressure on my right thigh, warm blood soaking the denim, and used my other hand to keep the gun trained on Mary. It was a waste of energy, though. I couldn’t shoot Eddy. Not even to save myself.

  “The big bad Black Valentine on her knees.” Mary pointed her gun at my head. “Will you beg for your life? It would make me so incredibly happy if you begged.”

  Oh, please. I’ve been threatened by the best: Bloodbath, Madame Guillotine, Blueblood, (Oh God, Blueblood, what an asshole). I didn’t beg then, and it was going t
o take more than a smug child with a gun to make me start now. Or at least that’s what I would have said if I could speak properly, but I couldn’t, so I just glared.

  “No?” Mary asked. “Fine, then. Die with dignity or whatever. But just so you know, when I tell the story of how I killed you, I’m gonna say you begged.”

  No, she wouldn’t. And you want to know why? Because she talked too much. She talked too much, and she was standing with Eddy’s back to the front door, so she hadn’t seen Irma come in thirty seconds ago. But most importantly, because I’d come here with a backup plan, and she hadn’t.

  “Get out of Eddy’s body, Mary!” Irma shouted.

  Mary spun around—and froze.

  “You don’t want it, trust me,” Irma said. “It’s ugly, overweight, and has extremely high cholesterol.” She stood in the front doorway on the other side of the fallen No-Men. While the right wall was starting to catch fire and smoke made the air hazy, it was still easy to see that she had a gun trained on a body lying at her feet. Mary’s body—her real one. Her costume was still on it, sans mask, and the expression on her face looked incongruously like she was sleeping peacefully.

  “You—” Now Mary was the one stuttering. “How did you—”

  She’d left her body in a motel room with a guard, but I’d pulled the location from her mind after I’d taken the psyc. Not that I would explain that to her even if I could.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Irma said. “I’m going to back away, and you’re going to slowly approach your body and return to it. If it looks like you’re going to try anything stupid, I’ll put a bullet in your head—and I do mean yours, not Eddy’s.”

  Just hurry up and do it already, I willed Mary as she stood there, motionless. The smoke was getting thicker now, burning my eyes and making my throat itch. Time was running out if I was going to save Dave from the fire. The flames consuming the right wall had started creeping across the ceiling, and the heat was becoming too much to bear. I could feel my heartbeat accelerating by the way the throbs of blinding pain from my thigh came faster.

  “You have five seconds, then I’m going to start putting bullet holes in your extremities.” Evidently, Irma was getting impatient, too. “Five…four…”

  “Fine!” Mary threw Eddy’s gun aside with much more force than necessary. “Fine. You win.”

  She held up Eddy’s hands in a gesture of surrender and walked slowly forward. Irma backed away at the same pace, moving through the doorway and out onto the porch so Mary couldn’t jump into her body instead. That officially made Irma the smartest person here, since she was the only one taking steps to get out of a house that was on fire. The flames hadn’t touched me yet, but the proximity was enough to singe the bare skin of my right arm and heat up the denim of my pants leg to the point that I was afraid it would burn me. I dragged myself closer to the left wall—the one that wasn’t on fire yet—sending a fresh wave of pain out from my thigh. It might have been easier if I’d let go of my gun, but I couldn’t. I still needed it.

  Eddy’s hands were clenched into fists as Mary reached her body. I took a moment to savor the expression on her face—her real face. It was nice to see it without a scowl, glare, or smirk, nice to see it without hate. It made her look younger, though maybe that was just because it made me remember her when she’d been younger and happier, at least around me. In any case, it didn’t last. Eddy’s body collapsed to the floor with a thump, and Mary stirred and rose. In no time at all, the glare was back and burning hotter than the surrounding flames.

  “I hope you’re happy.” She held out her hands dramatically, facing me. “The Black Valentine wins again. Give yourself a pat on the back. I guess I’m not killing you today.” Her voice grew lower and raspier. “But you’d better watch your back, big sister, because someday soon I’ll—”

  The recoil jolted the gun in my hand, and Mary stopped. She looked down at the bloody bullet wound in the center of her chest then back up at me, her gaze full of disbelief, fear, and unjustifiable betrayal. Then she fell, and that was that. I was a good enough shot to give her a quick death, at least. No long, terrified minutes spent bleeding out. No painful gut wound. No spending her last minutes on earth listening to her killer gloat. It was a mercy she wouldn’t have given me.

  Irma came back inside, and someone who didn’t know her well would think her expression was unemotional and cruel.

  “Let me help,” she said.

  That was when the roof collapsed.

  Flaming debris crashed to the floor in front of me. I threw my hands over my head and faced the wall to shield myself. The sound was so loud; it was as though the sky had cracked apart and fallen. Heat spread out like a shock-wave. When I opened my eyes, coughing from smoke, a wall of crackling, roaring flame met me. I couldn’t see Irma or Eddy. Oh, no, please. Please tell me it hadn’t fallen on them.

  “Valentina!” Irma screamed, a sound I’d never been happier to hear. “Valentina!”

  “I—I— Here!” I shouted back. “Get Eddy o-ou—” Damn it all. “—OUT!”

  I used the wall as leverage to push myself to my feet. Putting weight on my right leg felt like jamming a red-hot poker into the bullet wound. I ignored it and took slow, shaky steps forward, keeping my hand on the rough wooden wall for support. There were no flames behind me, nothing between me and the back door. Hopefully, it would stay that way long enough for me to free Dave and get him out of here. The heat of the flames tried to force me back, but I kept going, eyes tearing up from the smoke. The sound of coughing reached my ears, and I thanked whatever luck was still with me. That was Dave. He was conscious. I wouldn’t have to physically drag him out, which was good, because I’d been shot, and he was heavy as hell.

  “D-Dave.” I limped into the room, and the smoke was so thick that I could barely make him out.

  “Val?” Relief filled his voice. “You’re okay. Thank goodness.” He coughed again. “On a side note, I think this is the third time I’ve woken up chained to a table. No, wait, it’s the fourth. I forgot that time you— You’re limping. What happened?”

  I didn’t waste precious time and energy trying to respond. I just kept limping forward and reached into the pouch on my belt for my lock picks.

  “Val?” The single syllable was drenched with worry. He’d probably tried to communicate by thought, and I hadn’t responded. I squinted at the manacle around his wrist and debated which lock-pick I’d need.

  “Val!”

  I swung around, because that syllable had been bursting with alarm. It probably saved my life. The bat Dr. Sweet had been swinging glanced off the side of my head instead of hitting me full on. And that was the winner. If there was a competition between my injuries—between the gunshot wound in my leg, Mary’s beating on my ribs, and everything else—the burst of pain in my head won the gold medal. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor with no memory of having fallen down.

  “This isn’t how I pictured my day ending.” Dr. Sweet kicked me in the stomach, driving a wet, pained sound from my mouth. “You have no idea how it’s going to throw off my schedule.” He brought down the bat on my legs, and I screamed. Dave was shouting. I couldn’t make out the words. Gun. I had another gun, didn’t I? I yanked it from the holster on my hip, but Dr. Sweet swung the bat and knocked it painfully from my hand.

  “All the research I had to destroy with this fire to keep the DSA from getting it. It’s a setback, a significant setback.” He broke into a coughing fit, not immune to the smoke. But it didn’t last, and he straightened up with a wide smile. “But if today ends with me killing you and White Knight? I’ll count it as a win overall.”

  He kicked me again, only this time, the pain felt far away. Everything felt far away, and the world went silent. I couldn’t hear the popping and cracking of the fire consuming the house, and I couldn’t hear Dr. Sweet even though he was still gloating over me. But then he turned, his smile growing wider, the flickering firelight gleaming off his oily cheek
s. Dave must have said something. It had probably been a threat of some kind, and restrained as he was, it would have been meaningless.

  I tried to focus. My consciousness felt thin and spread out too far. I had to gather it all back in. I had to think. What… What could I use? Gun? Those were all gone. Could I get to the one Sweet had knocked away? I tried to turn my head, the wooden floor scratching my cheek. The smoke wasn’t as thick down here, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. What else did I have on me? My head swam. I had a flashlight. That wasn’t going to be much help. I had a flashlight and…lock picks. Was that all? Had I not come more prepared?

  No weapons. No telepathy. No nothing. Panic tightened my chest.

  Sound came rushing back to my ears: the low roar of the encroaching flames and a familiar voice.

  “—I swear,” Dave growled. “I’ve killed you before. I can do it again.”

  “But this isn’t going to end like before,” Sweet replied. “Can’t you see? We’re all trying new things today. I’m beating someone to death like a common thug, and you’re dying.”

  No. He was not dying. Not like this. I moved my legs experimentally. The pain sent waves of nausea through me, but they moved. They weren’t broken. That had to count for something. I reached for my belt, my fingers fumbling for the only weapon I had left.

  “Still got a bit of fight left in you, Ms. Belmonte?” Dr. Sweet stood over me, and of all the things to cross my mind, it was that his pants were too long. The khaki was bunched up over his brown shoes. “I’m surprised, but then, you never did—”

  I jammed a lock pick into the side of his leg, right above the ankle. He yelled and stumbled back, dropping the bat. I sat up, and God, the agony. It made me so dizzy that I feared I’d passed out. But I didn’t. I snatched up the bat and swung it at Dr. Sweet’s knees. It connected with a jolt that rattled my arm bones up to the shoulder. He hit the floor next to me—nearly right on top of me. I brought the bat down on the back of his head. Once. Twice. Three times.