Jackhammer wasn't anywhere on my route, so I didn't see what he was up to, but Venom was still in the kitchen. The smell of whatever she was baking was heavenly. The stew she'd been stirring smelled delicious as well, but the oven let forth a cloud of vanilla, spice, and a few other things I couldn't identify. It didn't matter. It made my mouth water.
"How may I help you, sir?" Venom had ditched the lab coat for a light-blue jersey pullover. She was still wearing the stylish pair of dark blue slacks she'd been wearing in the lab. "Dinner won't be for another three hours but I can get you a quick bite if you're hungry?"
She raised her voice slightly at the end to turn it into a question.
"I think I'll see how I feel when supper's served, if that's okay. In the meantime I could do with some cider."
"Sweet or hard?" she asked with an exaggerated wink.
I hadn't tasted hard cider in probably fifteen years. It sounded almost as good as whatever was being made for supper smelled and I said as much.
"Go sit down and I'll bring you a bottle. Jackhammer makes it himself, so if you like it be sure to tell him."
I agreed that I would and, reluctantly, left the kitchen to grab a seat at the dining room table. I questioningly eyed the bowl of apples sitting so picturesquely in the center of the table. Maybe something solid in my stomach wouldn't be a bad idea before the alcohol hit, and unless my eyes was mistaken these were more of the same variety I'd had for breakfast the other morning. They'd aged really well in storage, judging by how sweet they'd become while still remaining crisp and fresh-tasting. It was still too early in the year for even the earliest of apples to be ripe yet. True, they could have been imports, but I had the feeling that man like Jackhammer wouldn't buy apples from New Zealand if he could grow them in his backyard.
I was saved the choice, however, when Venom appeared carrying four bottles, two pilsner glasses, and a bottle opener, on a tray and a zipper-seal bag of what looked like tortilla chips. She set the tray down before tossing the bag in front of me. I had taken the chair at the foot so she took a chair a couple down from me to my right.
"I thought I'd join you, if that's okay. I've been cooking for a couple hours now and boy are my dogs barking." She slouched in the chair and slid slightly so she was sitting with her shoulders against the back. "Try the chips. I made them up last night and I'm curious what you think of them. If you don't mind my using you as a guinea pig, that is."
"Are these going to make my skin turn green or my hair fall out?" I asked with a smile.
"Not unless I got too much weasel spleen in the blend."
"I'll take my luck, then." I popped open the bag and snagged a chip. I hesitated only slightly before biting the tip off.
My hair didn't fall out, my skin didn't turn green, nor did I suffer an erection lasting more than four hours. Instead, what I got was the taste of buttered popcorn.
"How is it?"
I chewed thoughtfully a couple times and swallowed. "It's good. The taste is rather surprising. What is it?"
She chuckled. "For once I can answer that question without having to say I don't know. It's a popcorn tortilla chip. I popped some corn, ground the kernels in a food processor, tossed in a little salt, pepper, and just a hint of cornstarch to make sure it thickened, mixed the lot with some melted butter and milk and then poured the batter into an oiled pan, cooked the mess into sheets, let them cool, then cut them into pieces and shallow-fried them. They're probably a cardiologist's nightmare, but they are good, hmm?"
I ate another and nodded. "Yes. I wouldn't want a steady diet of them or anything, but they'd be great at parties."
"Thank you! Any artist loves it when someone likes their work. Now try the cider."
It occurred to me only after I'd pulled the top off without aid of the bottle opener, poured the contents into a glass giving it the right amount of head, and taken a healthy swig of the cold, crisp, amber liquid that hit just about every single one of my pleasure centers, that I might have been thrusting a dagger into my chest, not knowing if it was poisoned or not.
Purple froth didn't suddenly spew from my nostrils, so I assumed it was safe. It was also very good.
"That's wonderful," I said. "I'll have to tell Jackhammer when I see him next."
"He'll love to hear it. How are you feeling?" The concern in her voice sounded real.
"I'm feeling a lot better, though this headache just won't quit. Do you think there's anything you could whip up to help with that?"
She shook her head. "Not without tasting you and that damn gas again. You might not be too bad, but that gas made me want to throw up."
"What do you mean, taste?" My curiosity was aroused. Yes, only my curiosity. "You've said that a few times."
"Sorry, it must be a weird way to put it. When I touch something I get a sensation, and a knowledge, from it that I can only describe as being similar to taste. You know how when you look at a loaf of bread you can see it's brown, shaped like a mushroom, and when it's sliced open the inside steams and is white to brown? Well, when you touch it you feel that it's soft, and warm. But when you bite into it you taste the butter, the salt, the milk, the yeast and flour. Your mouth recognizes how the gluten has altered the way the starch and water has been held together. Net result? It's yummy. Well, it's like that when my skin touches anything. It's why I like to cook so much. Food tastes a lot better than a keyboard or the inside of a rubber glove."
"And you get this... taste whenever you touch anything?"
"Pretty much, yeah. It makes it really easy to diagnose and counteract poisons. It's all part of my power group, though the gods alone know why I can do what I can do." She sighed and poured herself a glass of cider. She took a good swig before speaking again. "I sure as hell don't. That is good cider."
"I'm glad you agree. So, when you touch a person, say, a super, you can tell a lot about them?"
She nodded as she finished off her cider. She poured another and burped loudly. "I can tell just about anything about them." She caught my eye and smiled. "You tasted spicy. Like a bowl of chili that someone topped with extra jalapeños. Only it wasn't peppers, it was something else. I don't know. I've never tasted that before in someone."
The serum. So it was still in my system. Damn it. I'd thought I'd burned through the lot of it.
"Really? You tasted something in me that you'd never tasted before?"
"Yup. It was strange. I sort of liked it, though. Made me feel perkier. Why?"
Now for the ten million dollar question. "Could you duplicate it?"
"Of course. My ingredients might be a little unorthodox, but I could do it." She eyed me oddly and sipped her cider. "I ask again. Why?"
I smiled even though my stomach had just dropped to my toes and my throat felt like someone had poured kerosene down it and lit a match. "You really can duplicate any chemical compound you've run across?"
"Yes, or create something to do what I want it to do. All I need are some raw materials. Some tests back in the eighties said I manipulated chemicals on an atomic level. I don't know how I do it, I just do it."
"That's just plain awesome." I finished my cider and poured my second bottle. I had the need for some numbness, though it'd take a lot more alcohol than I'd been given to hit anything nearing numb. "May I ask about what happened to Hypnotico?"
I wanted to change the subject, but I really could have done better than that clumsy segue. Luckily I didn't have to.
"Jackhammer and I questioned him for several hours before he broke, but he admitted to drugging Corrine in an attempt to kill you. You really scared the hell out of him, you know. He used that stuff he'd prescribed for Wildcard and it did exactly what the label said it would. Apparently he'd been preparing for the eventuality for a couple of weeks and hadn't dropped a hint to any of us what he was thinking. I'd never realized that Raymond took such a long view when he planned things. The hormone levels in those pills were shocking and it's amazing that Wildcard didn't start growing hair on th
e palms of his hands... Speaking of the devil, how did you know he wasn't crazy anymore?"
"He never really was. He came close, and I know how that feels, but he never quite crossed that line. When he really came back to himself nobody would believe he wasn't totally round the bend. After a while he stopped trying to be heard. The fact that he couldn't talk really didn't help, either." I cleared my throat. "And the fact that his friends probably felt really guilty and didn't try to talk to him didn't help matters either."
She cringed a little but nodded her head. "You got me. We all felt bad for him, but we also all knew that what happened to him could happen to any of us, and we really didn't want to face that fact." I could hear that she was holding something back, but I didn't want to press. It was none of my business and if she wanted to share she'd share. "We should have..." She trailed off and absently rubbed the rim of her glass with a fingertip.
I waited a few seconds before speaking again. "You don't need to seek absolution from me, if that's what this is," I said, waving my hand at the chips and empty bottles. "The man you need to talk to is in the sunroom with my would-be killer. Is she okay?"
"As okay as she ever was. The crap Ray gave her didn't last very long at all."
"Good. Not to beat the point to death," I said, making sure she knew I was changing the subject again since she was so uncomfortable with what we'd been talking about, "but what's happening to that jerkweed?"
"A burial. Jackhammer crushed his windpipe and let him suffocate last night." She sipped her cider lightly and made a face like it had turned sour. "All four of us agreed he'd violated the rules of the Guild, Canadian law, and in general pissed us off. We thought about giving you the honor," she continued, twisting the last word into a weapon, "but Corrine didn't want to wait and Jackhammer claimed the ancient rules of hospitality had been violated. Since you couldn't speak to make your views known he had to speak for you."
"In other words he wanted to kill the bastard himself and did it."
"That's what I'm thinking."
"Well, it is his house."
"I was thinking that too."
I sipped my cider and realized that, while it was still good, it couldn't wash the subtle taste of recent adrenaline from my mouth. "And I, for one, wouldn't want to get between that man and his idea of vengeance."
"Neither would I."
"Anyway. You say that gas was almost pure that got used on me?"
"Chemical analysis on the sample Wildcard gave me was north of ninety-six percent. The other sprayer topped the chart at ninety-eight, both of which are improbably high. The computer analysis linked the impurities together and said the likelihood of it being the same maker but different batches at some astronomically high percentile, but I wasn't paying too much attention."
"Wait a minute. Wildcard gave you a sample?" I swallowed the last of my cider and realized the alcohol was starting to trickle into my system. "Don't you mean he gave you the spent sprayer?"
"No, he'd filled his lungs with the gas to keep the levels in the room down."
"How in the name of Aphrodite's nipples did he do that? The gas would have killed him, right?"
"No, though that'll take a bit of explaining." She sighed and straightened in the chair. "Wildcard learned a long time ago how to change his skin into a one-way osmotic membrane. Oxygen goes one way and carbon dioxide goes the other. Nothing else transfers either way. He still puts on a show, mind you, but that's all it is. He never needs to come up for air, which used to be quite fun, and he's immune to inhaled poisons. Hell, unless it breaks the skin, he's immune."
"That's... amazing." I hoped I sounded as impressed as I felt. Even in a world of unique and powerful people, that kind of self-inflicted adaptation was nothing short of incredible.
"He was an amazing man in his prime." She smiled. "He's still an amazing man."
"Yes. He is." My agreement was by no means a simple ploy to make her feel better.
"And what about me," a familiar voice boomed behind me. "Ain't I amazin'?"
I laughed but refused to turn. "No, you're more spectacular, or perhaps awesome. Amazing, though, seems to fit more with someone who can stretch his arms across the room." I paused for a second. "Or perhaps fantastic."
"How 'bout someone who heals a broken leg in two days?" Something hit the back of my chair. "Even though he's older than dirt."
"Nope. I'll go as high as incredible with a side order of surprising, but I'm afraid we'll have to keep it there." I smirked and a quick look at Venom put a similar expression her face.
"Well, damn. Alrighty, we'll have to go with that. Vivian, would you excuse us for a minute?"
"Sure thing," she said, getting up and grabbing the bottles. "I should go check on the stew anyway."
Jackhammer waited till she had left the room before taking her seat. Sure enough, his leg was no longer in a cast though he was walking with a cane. That was probably what he hit my chair with.
"Son, I think we need to talk."
Steamroller refused to meet my eyes when ushered out of the sunroom. Wildcard extended his leg and took one big step halfway across the house. I had the feeling he was going to be having fun for quite some time to come, if he had the chance. Things looked a little dicey in the not-too-distant future --- for everyone.
The door closed with a click and left the two of us alone. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it was serious.
"Vivian fill you in on what happened with Raymond?"
I nodded. "She said you crushed his windpipe and left him to suffocate."
"You're damn right I did. How does that make you feel?"
I shrugged and picked a chair facing him before I sat down. The air temperature was high enough to be slightly uncomfortable but not so high as to kick the air conditioning in. The only air vents I saw seemed to be intakes, too. Probably circulated the warmer air to other rooms in the house to help with the heating bill during the winter.
"He tried to kill me. What the hell do I care if he's dead?"
"Good answer. You know why he tried to kill you?"
I shook my head. "Not a frigging clue."
He nodded to himself. "How would it make you feel if I told you it was 'cause he was scared of you."
I shrugged again. "The why isn't as important to me as the what, and the what was attempted murder by way of a third party. He not only tried to kill me he was a coward until confronted."
Jackhammer had yet to sit down. Instead he was pacing, slowly, using the cane to keep the weight off his recently-fractured leg a little more than he probably liked. "It's not just the what, it's the who, and the who happened to be my wife. Do you know why he picked her? He told me it was 'cause she was the strongest one of us."
"Maybe. She certainly had the best chance of killing me. But if the bastard had Dragon Breath why didn't he use it while I slept instead of doping your wife?"
Jackhammer paused and sighed. "I asked m'self the same question, son. The only answer I got was that it didn't matter. Now I wish I'd kept him alive so I could ask him instead."
"Don't beat yourself up," I said, wishing he'd sit down. "We all do things in moments like that we wish we hadn't."
"Maybe," he allowed, drumming his fingers on the top of the cane. "But I should have thought first."
"If you want to play the 'what I should have done' game we'll be here all night. In essence, you did what any of us would have done if the decision had been put on us, with the possible exception of Venom. I doubt she'd have wanted him dead no matter what." An itch I'd tried to ignore suddenly flared up and spread from my arm to the top of my head and started heading south. I forced myself not to scratch. "But it doesn't really matter. I think you did the right thing, especially since there was no guarantee I'd pull through."
"Son, when I did it to him I didn't really care about what he'd done to you. I just wanted to hurt him for nearly killin' Corrine like that." He looked shaken.
Of course. He'd relied on her for so long he didn'
t know what he'd do without her. Fifty-year marriages can do that to you. The thought of losing her had rocked him to his core.
"You won't have to worry about that for quite a while yet," I said gently. "Just like she won't have to worry about losing you for a long time to come."
"I hope not. My last physical was a month ago and the doc said I'd probably live another fifty years, though I think he was exaggeratin'." He smiled briefly. "At my age you start realizin' that you ain't got forever left to live."
I nodded. "Who wants to live forever? I'd get bored."
He laughed. "Me too. But I'd like to see the century dawn, if you catch my drift."
"I think I do." I cleared my throat. I had a hunch there was more he wanted to talk about than Hypnotico's demise. "I hope you get to see it."
"Thanks, son. Maybe you'll be at the party to wish me happy birthday or somethin' like that..." He drifted off and stared out the window. "Them boys in Alpha Zulu want you back pretty bad."
My heart dropped a little. "Probably so."
"No, son, they do. Ain't no 'probably' about it." He cleared his throat and took a breath. "So bad they tried to twist my arm to turn you over, if you can believe that. I told 'em no way in hell, but the man who was talkin' to me just laughed. Kinsey, I think he said his name was. He told me to turn you in or I'd be sorry. I laughed back and hung up the phone. Anyway, that was back when we were first learnin' 'bout you. Well, this Kinsey clown didn't call again till last night. He demanded that I turn you over or else. I told him to take a flyin' dive into a manure pile and hung up again." He looked down at me and frowned. "The bastard called right back and said it was my last chance. I got a little mad and told him where he could shove his last chance and if'n he wanted to take me on just to name the time and place. He just said I'd see and hung up."
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