Face the Change (Menopausal Superheroes Book 3)

by Samantha Bryant

  For the second time, Sally Ann gave her spiel about the Director’s plan to take the Department public as the Unusual Cases Unit. Jessica chimed in to say the cat was already out of the bag anyway, at least in her case. Patricia’s face was already all over the internet, and she was becoming quite famous in the urban legend department as the Lizard Woman of Springfield, thanks to some less-than-discreet rescues and fights in public settings.

  Finally, Sally Ann and Jessica finished then fell silent and waited for Leonel’s reaction. He looked a lot more hesitant than Jessica had. In fact, he’d gone quite pale. Jessica noticed. “Are you all right? Should I get a doctor?” She was already on her feet, ready to fly across the facility if necessary.

  “I’m fine. It’s not my wound.” Leonel ran his hands through his hair, pulling the ends forward and tugging at them. He spread his arms, gesturing for the women to come closer, even though they were alone in the room. “It’s David. Things… things are difficult right now. If I do something like this, it might make it worse.”

  Jessica rubbed Leonel’s arm, soothingly. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s him or the Department.”

  Sally Ann stood up and paced a few steps away. “Did he actually say that?”

  “Not in so many words, but that’s what he meant. He said he couldn’t take it if he lost me.” Leonel grabbed Jessica’s fingers. “He left last night when I told him I was coming back to work.”

  Sally Ann nodded. It didn’t surprise her. She herself never dated anyone seriously. It was hard to do this kind of work with entanglements. It wasn’t only yourself you put at risk. Even if your loved ones weren’t in direct danger, they were still in danger of losing you, and that was a lot to ask of anyone. Honestly, she was surprised David hadn’t tried to put his foot down sooner.

  “Do you think he’ll come around?” Jessica asked. She was visibly shaken.

  “I don’t know,” Leonel said, flopping his head onto his arms and shaking the table.

  Sally Ann cleared her throat, and Leonel sat up, wiping tears off his cheeks. She gave him a moment to collect himself. When he had, she spoke softly. “What do you want, Leonel?” Jessica shot her a dirty look, but Sally Ann went on anyway. “Don’t think about David or your daughters or the Director or Jessica and me or anyone else. Ask yourself what you really want—in your innermost heart. We’ll have your back either way. If you want to go back home and live your life in quiet safety, I wouldn’t blame you for that. None of us would.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the time to be talking about all this. You don’t want to make a decision you might regret later,” added Jessica.

  “The thing is, there’s no decision to make.” Leonel shook his head, smiling and crying at the same time. “I love David, but this work—es algo más fuerte que yo. It’s stronger than me. I can’t give it up—it would be like giving up my purpose.”

  Sally Ann considered her own feet for a few long seconds, thinking. The Department was like that for her, too—a kind of home, a place that demanded the best of her and let her use all that she was. “We should call you Fuerte,” she said. “Because that’s what you are—strong inside and out.”

  “It’s perfect,” Leonel agreed. “Flygirl and Fuerte. I like it.”

  Cindy’s Electric Personality

  The driveway they pulled into was unremarkable. In fact, Cindy wondered how Mekai could tell which house to choose, given that they were all very much the same and the numbering system was subtle. “This is the safe house you called? Where are we? Stepford?”

  He smiled. “They call it Shadow Hill, but, yeah, Stepford’s not too far off.” He turned off the engine and turned around to look at her. “You better let me go in first. Mrs. A doesn’t like surprises.”

  Cindy agreed, though her curiosity was seriously piqued. She rolled down the window so she could watch Mekai enter the house. To her surprise, he entered without knocking and without using a key. In her experience, people with houses this nice didn’t leave them unlocked. If Cindy hadn’t already been bursting with curiosity, she was now.

  For several long minutes, she heard nothing. Then, slowly, she became aware of a low-level buzzing coming from somewhere above the van. She opened the sun roof to peer up at the clouds. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose with static electricity. Her father stirred in his slumber, agitated. There was an audible pop as if someone had turned off a breaker, and then Mekai opened the door. Distracted by the strange electric phenomena, Cindy hadn’t seen him approach and fought to hide her surprise. She noted that Mekai had taken the time to wash his face while he’d been inside, but that couldn’t fix the swelling in his cheek where he’d taken a hit from the man who’d attacked them in the parking lot.

  “All right. We can go in,” Mekai told her.

  After a quick glance up and down the street to make sure no one was watching them, the agent reached in and picked up the twitching body of Anton Lorre and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of dirty laundry. The contrast between the two men couldn’t have been greater at that moment, Cindy thought. Mekai’s broad shoulders easily supported the limp and slender body of the scientist her father had killed and inhabited like a rented apartment. Cindy felt heat rush to her face.

  She slipped quickly out of the van and around to the back to keep Mekai from noticing her reaction and intending to grab one of the bags in the back storage. Standing in the driveway, she took in the entire vista of matching brown brick houses, wishing she knew what to look for to see if they’d been tracked to this location. No one was visible. Cindy guessed it was still too early for children to have returned from school and parents to have come home from work, but even so, the utter emptiness of the street was eerie.

  “A little help would be nice.” Mekai called out from behind her. Leaving the bags for the time being, Cindy bounced up to the stoop, grabbed the large handle of the heavy door and hauled it open, holding it so Mekai could enter ahead of her then letting it fall closed behind them.

  The solid wooden door opened into an impressive, if dark, foyer. With a quick glance, Cindy took in the high ceiling and dangling chandelier as well as the odd stain on the black and white tile, only partly hidden by a rug, something smoke colored, shaped like a Rorschach blot monster. It gave her an odd feeling. But she wouldn’t complain about the upgrade to her temporary base. Creepy or not, this house was far superior to the deteriorating hotels she and her father had been encamped in since their escape from his compound.

  “This way.” Mekai gestured with his chin, then turned to the right into a well-appointed front parlor, just off the foyer. The room was also dark, lit by sunlight that had worked its way through a high window to cast a weak beam into the center of the space. Mekai laid his burden down on a sofa, carefully removing the shoes before repositioning the man into a more comfortable sleeping position. Her father made some grumbling noises but remained asleep.

  Cindy knew her formula needed some tweaking to do any more for him. It wasn’t enough in its current form. Rejuvenation had helped slow Anton’s decay and even give the man back some basic motor control, but he was still too easily exhausted.

  At Mekai’s silent gesture, Cindy followed him into what turned out to be the kitchen. It was a large room, obviously meant for entertaining and preparing elaborate meals. Cindy touched the countertop and frowned. “We should find something to cover this with. I have a feeling our host wouldn’t appreciate it if we marred this fine surface.”

  Mekai grunted as if he could care less. Oblivious, Cindy clapped her hands. “All right. I’ll need the supplies we bought.” Mekai looked at her, crossing his arms. He’d told her once before that he was no one’s roadie. That was fine with her. Carrying the supplies, she could handle. She held out her hand. “Keys, please?”

  Mekai clearly didn’t like that idea any better. “I’ll get it. I have to move the car to the garage anyway.” He leaned down to look her in the eye, poking a wide finger at her skinny c
hest. “You stay here.”

  Cindy bowed slightly. “My bag as well, please.”

  As soon as Mekai passed through the door, Cindy opened all the cabinets and drawers, looking for—well, she didn’t know what she was looking for, but she felt sure she’d know it if she found it. She didn’t know where she’d expected Mekai to bring them to hide out and recoup, but she definitely hadn’t anticipated a trip to the expensive end of suburbia.

  Her search didn’t yield any hints as to what was going on here, though she did gain respect for the bankroll that funded the house. The kitchenware was all high quality and polished as if new. The cabinets were strangely barren of typical things like spices and bottles of oils, the kinds of things that accumulate over the years of preparing meals. It seemed like someone had recently moved in or didn’t spend much time at home. Like a bachelor with a beautifully appointed kitchen no one ever cooks in.

  She went to the foyer and looked back the way Mekai had led her in. The front door was still closed, and her father still lay where they’d left him. Peeking down the other way, she saw a long hall that led to another door and a stairwell. She wandered to the end of the hall and had placed a foot on the stairs when Mekai returned. He spotted her immediately and grimaced. “I said to wait in the kitchen.”

  Cindy shrugged. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

  Mekai shifted the bags to one hand and bumped a door open in the center of the hall she had just traversed. “Here.”

  Cindy went inside, made use of the facilities, and lingered for a while, rummaging through the drawers and the medicine chest. A bottle of witch hazel had been stowed under the sink and she tucked it under her arm to take with her. She could use it to take down some of the swelling in Mekai’s face.

  When she stepped back out into the hall, fully intending to find out what Mekai didn’t want her to see at the top of the stairs, she found him still standing there waiting. He hadn’t even put down the packages. Her shoulders sagged with disappointment, but she followed him back to the kitchen without comment.

  In short order, she had lined up her supplies and set up a workable rig atop a thick towel to protect the beautiful countertops. Before setting to work on the serum for her father, she created a paste of arnica, parsley, St. John’s wort, and witch hazel, among other things, and spread it on a warm cloth. “Here,” she said, offering it to Mekai. “Hold this on your face for a few minutes. It’ll take down the swelling and alleviate some of the bruising and pain.” He took it, and after examining the greenish goo suspiciously for a moment or two, applied it as instructed.

  Cindy went back to her rig. Taking out her pouch of emerald dust, she poured a small amount into a durable glass bowl, then added oils and herbs, all the while humming tunelessly to herself. Mekai stood in the hall, looking like a bodyguard, swiveling his head periodically to look at her father on the couch then back at her. He held the poultice in place with one hand.

  She nuked the bowl of ingredients, stopping the microwave every few seconds to stir and assess. When it had reached the right temperature, she placed a little wire stand with a candle lit beneath the bowl—another useful find, originally intended for wax potpourri. It was no Bunsen burner but would do the job, so long as she monitored it carefully. When she finished, she hopped up on the counter so she could reach the microwave buttons more easily and set the timer for three minutes.

  “So, are you going to tell me about Mrs. A?” Cindy let her dangling feet swing back and forth and bump softly against the lower cabinet doors.

  Mekai removed the rag from his face and folded it to wipe the paste from his skin. His face remained expressionless, though Cindy noted the swelling around his eye had gone down. Curiosity was driving her crazy, but Cindy tried to play it cool. She bounced her heels against the cabinet in a simple pattern.

  She wished she understood Mekai. He was definitely better company than her father, and she craved conversation. Mekai would be very interesting if she could get him talking—there were flashes of humor among all his threatening postures. But clearly, he saw her and her father as a job, something he had only agreed to do because Bertrand asked him to. Cindy suspected they were a chore he would be happy to offload as soon as possible.

  She had been thinking so hard she didn’t hear the microwave when it beeped. Mekai cleared his throat. “Time, Ms. Liu.”

  Cindy hopped down off the counter and returned to her mixture. It had thickened considerably, but the color was still wrong. She stirred the concoction again and then, using a couple of coasters she found under the counter, raised the still-burning candle nearer to the bottom of the bowl. After resetting the timer, she went back to contemplating her sneakers.

  “Mrs. A was the first one of you I met,” Mekai spoke suddenly. Cindy hid her surprise. His tone was conversational, as if they had merely paused in the middle of a long talk and he was picking up the story where he’d left off.

  “One of who?”

  “You know.” He waggled his fingers in the air. “You uncanny sort.”

  Cindy smiled, genuinely amused. “As if your life is normal.”

  “Well, normal is relative. In my world, dead people stay dead, and children are actually young.”

  “But Mrs. A?”

  “She’s something else.”

  Cindy waited, hoping he would go on, but he seemed to have said his piece. Luckily the timer went off again, and she could busy herself with stirring and testing consistency. The color had deepened to a dark, oozing green, slick and reflective in appearance. “It has to cool for a while.” She stretched, yawning exaggeratedly. “Do you think I could meet her?”

  “Mrs. A? She doesn’t much like new people.”

  “So, what is she? Some kind of electric hermit?”

  Mekai turned his head quickly and stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “Well, I figure whatever she’s about has something to do with electricity. A wave of something went across us while we waited for you in the car, and this house is full of static electricity. I’ve shocked myself a dozen or more times already, and we’ve been here less than an hour.” She moved back to the doorway and peeled up a corner of the hallway rug. “They’ve hidden it well, but there’s conductive matting everywhere, suggesting a need for grounding.”

  A low whistle sounded. Cindy whirled around. A tall, willowy old woman stood in the kitchen, peering into Cindy’s bowl. Cindy moved toward it protectively, but the woman had already moved away by the time she drew near.

  “You weren’t kidding, Mekai, dear. She has quite a mind. Once upon a time, she might have been a good fit for one of my projects.”

  Mekai spoke through a tight jaw. “I asked you to stay upstairs.”

  “It’s my house, dear. I’ll go where I want.”

  Cindy cocked her head and stared at the woman. Something about her was very familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on it. If the woman would keep talking, something would jog her memory. “What kinds of projects?” she asked.

  “Oh, this and that. Nothing of interest to a chemist.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of Cindy’s work area.

  “I’m not exactly a chemist,” Cindy said, her feathers ruffled. The woman had sounded so dismissive.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No. Chemistry is part of what I do, but it’s more than that. It’s macrobiology, anatomy, physiology, endocrinology, neuroscience, etiology—”

  The woman raised a hand. “So, you’re a Jane of all trades?”

  Cindy gasped. “Elizabeth Ayres?” She knew her. It was the “Jane of all trades” line. Elizabeth Ayres had won the Copley some thirty years before when Cindy had just made the move to corporate science. Dr. Ayres’s work in bioenergetics was groundbreaking and fascinating, but, more than that, her ardent feminism and good humor had earned her attention in the press. Cindy had fully expected the woman to show up on the list of Nobel Prize nominees sometime. Then she had disappeared. Vanished. For twenty years, she had been an unso
lved mystery, and here she was standing in front of Cindy Liu. “Is it really you?”

  The woman shot a look at Mekai. He looked dumbfounded.

  “I read your work when at university. I’ve always meant to get back to your book on metabolic processes. I think I would understand it differently now.”

  The woman looked nonplussed, and a little nervous. “How old are you, child?”

  Cindy considered for a moment. She ought to keep her cards close to the chest, but this was Elizabeth Ayres. The Elizabeth Ayres. It was a once in a lifetime chance. “I’m sixty-seven.”

  Mekai looked as surprised as Dr. Ayres, though he knew the facts of her case already. Cindy didn’t blame him. She still surprised herself every time she looked in the mirror. What your brain comprehends is not the same as what you truly believe.

  Elizabeth Ayres turned to stare at the agent. “Mekai Davis, who exactly have you brought into my home?”

  He bent his head in a gesture that was almost a bow. “This is Dr. Cindy Liu, mad genius and spoiled brat.”

  Cindy wanted to stick her tongue out at Mekai but settled for glaring at him. Dr. Ayres seemed thoughtful. She tapped a finger against her chin, and Cindy would have sworn she saw a small blue spark at the point of contact. Though she almost vibrated with excitement, she resisted the urge to throw her resume at Dr. Ayres, to try to impress her with her degrees and accomplishments. Instead, she played it cool, extending a hand to be shaken.

  At the gesture, the lightbulb in the hood over the stove popped, throwing glass into the stovetop and onto the floor. Only then did Cindy notice that the prickly feeling she’d had in the car was back. The hairs on her arms and neck were standing up, and she felt as if ants were crawling all over her. Cindy eyed the lighting fixture above them and moved a step back, nearer Mekai and the doorway. The system hummed and flickered. Cindy picked up the bowl of greenish-black fluid, holding it protectively against her stomach.