Her personal favorite right now was for a homunculus mage from the Eritai world who had newly arrived on Earth and hoped to pass as a magical girl. It was hopeless, of course, because sooner or later she’d get caught — only magical girls could transform, so it was silly to pretend to be one of them. Still, Rhea applauded the effort, and the situation had sounded so amusing that she had agreed to design the girl’s costume for free.
Or, rather . . . for a “favor” at some unspecified date. Rhea never did anything for free.
“Hmm . . .” Rhea pondered, tapping her pencil against her cheek. It had a feather taped to the top, because anything she used in view of a customer had to be elegant. “What kind of costume do you think I should design her?”
“Costume?” Chronos asked, sounding startled.
“Defectors always care about costumes,” Rhea said, making a broad sketch of an idea she’d been considering a few days ago. “I presume this one came to you because she heard you were related to me.”
“No, she doesn’t know you exist,” Chronos said.
More and more interesting! Rhea kept her glee hidden as she looked up at her sister. “What kind of magical girl outfit did she used to wear?”
Chronos looked blank.
“Are there any elements or motifs that she tends to favor?” Rhea asked patiently.
Chronos continued to look blank.
“Does she have a favorite kind of fabric?” Rhea prodded.
“Um . . . the kind that clothes are made of?”
“Does it wrinkle, or is it stiff?” Rhea asked impatiently.
“Oh. Her first magical girl outfit was fluffy and it wrapped around her. Like a bathrobe,” Chronos said. “The future one was going to be stiff.”
Rhea had extreme doubts that the defector had worn something that resembled a bathrobe. “What else?”
“Um . . . she wears a lot of buckles . . .?” Chronos said.
“Buckles!” Rhea cried in delight. She hadn’t been asked to design a villain outfit with dozens of buckles in months! She started sketching, singing to herself, “I make vil-lains look the cool-est!”
“Ngh,” Chronos muttered behind her.
As she sketched, Rhea cast her mind over magical girl pasts from all over the world, looking for defectors who had worn a lot of buckles, but she couldn’t see any. She couldn’t see any recent defections at all, actually, and she was very skilled at finding them. Could it be . . .?
Rhea weighed the pros and cons of speaking up, and decided that the chance to pump her sister for more information was more important than refraining from irritating her. After all, Chronos must be pretty desperate, or she wouldn’t be here. She wasn’t likely to turn and leave.
“Huh. I can’t see any recent defections,” Rhea said casually, glancing down at her hands. “Were you actually involved in this one?”
Chronos glowered. “Much as I appreciate your attempts to spy on me . . .”
“Ha!” Rhea crowed. “So you were!”
“Mind your own business!” Chronos shouted.
Rhea was delighted, but she kept her face composed to hide her glee. This was a wonderful step for her sister, and she knew that smugness would only make her scowl and flee. So she answered in a matter-of-fact tone instead.
“Oh, don’t be so huffy,” Rhea said. “I can’t see your past any more than you can see my future.”
“But you would if you could,” Chronos accused.
“Of course,” Rhea said. “You’d spy on me if you could, too.”
Chronos’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t deny it.
“Besides, we both know Papa was right,” Rhea added briskly, flipping the page to move on to her second sketch. “Magical girls are our natural enemies. Before they came along, all our world’s magic-users were mocked, persecuted or killed. But for some reason, everyone reveres them. Revered for a magic system that’s so overpowered, and with such little cost, it’s like cheating! If you’ve shown even one of them reason to quit, you should be proud.”
“Like you’re proud when you pick fights with them?” Chronos asked flatly.
“Of course,” Rhea said, glancing up at her. “They’re trouble. Even mages from other worlds are starting to fear them.”
“Because they also pick fights with them!” Chronos shouted.
“And rightly so,” Rhea said, snapping her fingers. “Minerva!”
Her minion walked through the curtain, letting it swish shut behind her. Her arrowhead-like tail poked out behind her as soon as there were no customers in sight range. “Yes, ma’am?”
At least she has the good sense to make sure the customers don’t see it, Rhea thought. She would have preferred her sister to have not known where her minion was from, because information that interesting could be traded for more information, but . . . ah, well. In that case, there was no real point in hiding Minerva’s power.
“Make these for me,” she said, handing the two sketches to her minion.
Chronos looked restless. “How long will it take? I only have half an hour before she wakes up again, and it’s a ten-minute taxi ride from the Deathwave tunnel.”
Rhea almost laughed at how easily her sister gave up information. There were only nine Deathwave teleporter tunnels in the world, all between cities with major villain activity. If she hadn’t already known her sister lived in Athens, it would have been laughably easy to find her.
Then again, giving her sister the benefit of the doubt, Chronos had most likely assumed that Rhea’d known where she lived already. Which was, of course, true.
Rhea couldn’t automatically find the holes her sister left in the past, unlike finding scenes from anyone else’s past, but once she stumbled upon a hole, she could infer plenty. She could always tell the general location where her sister had been, for instance, not to mention when she’d been there, and she could listen to what other people had said about her after she’d left.
Meanwhile, her sister couldn’t see any possible futures which involved her, which meant that she had no way of knowing whether she was missing important things or whether there was nothing to see. Chronos couldn’t even see possible futures which involved herself, which was an added limitation that Rhea didn’t have. She could see her own past just fine.
Rhea repressed a smirk.
“Won’t take long at all,” Minerva said, holding the sketches out on each side of her. “Boss hired me for a reason.”
“Because you’re fast at sewing?” Chronos asked.
Minerva snorted. “No.”
A glow and a river of sparkles spread from each hand, and the tip of a sleeve emerged from one paper.
“Make sure to get both sizes right!” Rhea called.
“If these don’t fit, I’m blaming your drawing skills,” Minerva shot back.
The spirals spun faster and faster, and lines from the drawings darted out of the paper, forming into edges of real-life cloth as they appeared. As the last of the lines formed into reality, both costumes landed with a heap on the floor.
Chronos’s mouth was open.
“You forgot the boots,” Rhea said.
Minerva checked both papers. She held one of them upside down and shook it. Glows emerged from that hand as the boots dumped out of the paper onto the floor. She checked both papers to make sure they were blank, and then handed them back over.
“That’s an unusual power,” Chronos said.
Rhea took the blank papers and tossed them in the trash. They tended to get crumpled when Minerva used them, and paper was cheap.
Minerva snorted and rolled her eyes. “Only around here.”
“Around where?” Chronos asked.
Unbelievable, Rhea thought, shaking her head. Her sister hadn’t noticed the tail.
Then again, if her sister was really that unobservant . . .
“Go total her purchases,” Rhea said pleasantly. “Use the chart for Ultra-Special Tier A customers.”
Minerva grinned and ran off, tail bounc
ing eagerly after her. She got paid on commission, so she loved it when they charged customers the ten-times-normal rate.
Chronos prodded one of the costumes with her foot. “Why’d you make two? She only really needs one.”
“The black one’s for her; the red one’s for you,” Rhea said. “Did I get her size right? I assumed average height and weight for a thirteen-year-old — is she thirteen?”
Unfortunately, Chronos didn’t take the bait and accidentally volunteer more information.
“You designed a villain outfit for me?” Chronos burst out, grabbing the red one and holding it up.
“Well, you’re not walking out of my store dressed like that,” Rhea said tartly. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“I’m not going to wear this thing!” Chronos shouted.
“Would you rather go home empty-handed?” Rhea asked, holding up the black costume tantalizingly.
Chronos pursed her lips and glared.
Advice, Rhea remembered. She came looking for advice to get that defector of hers to leave. She’s too clueless to understand how important costumes are. She might very well just storm off empty-handed if I don’t spell it out for her.
“Here’s my advice,” Rhea said gently. “Every new villain needs a costume, lair, arch-nemesis, and ultimate goal. If she’s clinging to you, it’s probably because she feels she’s missing something she needs. This costume might be it.”
Chronos hesitated. She seemed to be thinking.
“That’ll be $54,739!” Minerva announced cheerfully, bouncing back into the room. “Cash or credit charge?”
“Oh — credit charge,” Chronos said. She recited a number.
It was all Rhea could do to keep from laughing as Minerva raced off with gleaming eyes. Chronos was at a shop for villains, and she wasn’t supervising the charge to her account? Really?
Her poor little baby sister. Thirty-three, and yet so naive.
Chronos stared at her reflection in the mirror, swallowing. Despite her vigorous protests, her sister had insisted on brushing her hair and shoving her into the dressing room with the red dress. Even though it was now five minutes past when Chronos had wanted to leave, she couldn’t quite make herself walk out like this. She’d thought nothing of being seen in public with her pajamas and bunny slippers, but this . . .
I look like a villain, she thought queasily. I don’t want to look like a villain.
But if she didn’t wear this, her sister wouldn’t let her leave. And if she didn’t leave, Kendra would wake up, find her gone, and no doubt teleport to wherever Chronos was currently.
She’d worked so hard to convince Kendra that she wasn’t a villain. If Kendra showed up here, she’d figure out that Chronos had come from a villain family, which was the last thing she wanted that annoying pest to realize.
Besides, that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to leave before Kendra woke up and chased her here.
Kendra had a chip on her shoulder about corrupt magical girls.
Rhea’s favorite hobby was corrupting magical girls.
Somehow, that didn’t seem like a meeting she wanted to see.
Showing up wearing this isn’t going to convince the pest that I’m not a villain, Chronos thought gloomily. Although . . . I guess . . . I could wear this long enough to take Rhea’s advice . . .
If Rhea was right, it wasn’t just the costume Kendra would need.
From a distance, she heard her sister shout, “Minerva! She’s family! Only triple-charge it!”
Chronos walked into the living room, dumped the villain costume on her unwanted houseguest’s face, and said, “Hi, Kendra. If you still want to be a villain, here’s your costume.”
“Mmph!” Kendra yelped, waking up under the fabric.
Chronos grinned at the revenge. It was nice to be the one to wake the pest up this time.
“We’ll go shopping for a lair in half an hour,” she announced carelessly, marching past the couch towards her bedroom. “Get dressed in time for that, or get out.”
She knew of several villain realtors in the city. Her family had bought properties from several of them while she was a kid.
Chapter 3: The Realtor
Costume, Kendra thought, hugging the fabric, smelling its fresh new-clothing scent. I have a costume again.
About the only thing that had kept her together the past few days had been her determination. Now that she’d won . . . she wasn’t sure what to think.
A costume again. That was a start. She had a costume again. That felt like getting back half of what she’d lost.
Except . . . I can’t transform anymore, Kendra thought, staring at it. Tears rose in her eyes, and she blinked them back. This will never become a second life. It’s only cloth. If someone had killed Cream Angel, I would just have lost my powers. But now . . .
Now, if I ever lose a battle . . . I’ll die.
She set the costume carefully beside her, looking at it. Taking it in. It was black and sleeveless, with a white border around the neck and down the front. It had a short skirt and a silver belt with a trapezoid-shaped bronze buckle.
It was an awesome buckle.
A very awesome buckle.
I could wear this, Kendra thought, imagining it on herself. This could be my style as a villain.
A lump rose in her throat.
I’ve killed villains before. Now I’m one of them. I’m going to be battling without a second life to shield me, and I’m going to be fighting those I used to revere.
It begged a question she didn’t want to know the answer to.
Does that make me a hypocrite, or just plain vulnerable?
“And here’s a lovely place for any villain just starting out!” the realtor proclaimed, waving her hand dramatically. A cloud of darkness swirled before them, revealing . . .
. . . a three-towered building in very poor repair.
“Really?” Kendra muttered.
There were visible bricks all over the walls, even though it had been painted to cover them. Three times, at least, judging by how many different colors of paint were visible in peeling layers. Despite its size, the building had only five windows, all of them near the top, and they were all enormous, which meant it would be uncomfortable to live in and impractical to defend.
And then there was the fact that the enormous building was all by itself on top of a hill, with nothing else around for miles. A more conspicuous lair there could not possibly be.
“Yes, a perfect lair for anyone who really wants to be found,” Kendra said sarcastically.
The realtor’s chipper attitude seemed unchanged. “Only if they invite other people here, such as villains they want to impress! The whole building is covered by anti-tracking magic barriers!”
Chronos’s eyebrows raised. She looked impressed.
“The building, but not the grounds?” Kendra asked suspiciously.
“The barrier extends a whole foot outside the walls!” the realtor said cheerfully.
Kendra snorted. In other words, completely useless if you go outside for any reason. “Next,” she said.
“Oh, you will love this building!” the realtor enthused as if she hadn’t heard, skipping ahead of them across the straggly grass. “It’s absolutely perfect for your needs!”
Chronos ambled after her, and Kendra hurried to catch up.
“This is the seventh trash heap she’s dragged us to,” Kendra muttered in an undertone. “Why are we doing this?”
“New villains need lairs,” Chronos shrugged.
“What was wrong with your apartment?” Kendra asked.
“The fact that I don’t want you using it as a lair,” Chronos said through clenched teeth.
Kendra rolled her eyes. A lair that doesn’t look like a lair would be good camouflage. Okay, the apartment would have been lame, but at least it wasn’t a horrendous ripoff. Five of the buildings we’ve looked at today have had broken walls, and one of them still had the previous owner’s dead body in it!
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The realtor’s unbelievable reaction to that particular discovery had been to say cheerfully, “As you can see, this property is in such high demand that it’s always snapped up almost immediately! Better move fast — it’s been on the market for two days, and I guarantee it’ll be snapped up before it’s been vacant for three!”
As if the corpse in the main hallway had been some sort of selling point or something.
“We can’t trust a word she says,” Kendra hissed. “I know for a fact that she’s lied to us about several things already.”
“She’s a realtor for villains,” Chronos shrugged. “You expected honesty?”
“There have to be better realtors out there!” Kendra hissed.
“If by ‘better’ you mean more effective at lying to people and stealing their money, then yes, there are. I can take us to an agency that specializes in breaking into already-occupied lairs and selling them to new owners, for instance.”
“Villains,” Kendra muttered.
Chronos smirked. “Regretting changing your allegiance? It’s not too late to back out.”
“No,” Kendra said immediately.
Chronos looked disappointed.
The realtor pranced straight through an arched doorway at the front of the building. Kendra and Chronos followed her through the gaping archway, which led straight to an entryway.
“Have you noticed there’s no front door?” Kendra asked.
“It doesn’t need one!” the realtor exclaimed in a thrilled voice. “The archway’s automatic defenses only let in people who have been invited in! It’s very convenient!”
“Then how did you get in?” Kendra demanded. “How did we get in?”
“The agency owns the property, so I qualify as one living here!” the realtor said cheerfully.
“Is there a dead body in here, too?” Kendra demanded.
“This whole place is so beautiful!” the realtor exclaimed, prancing down the hallway. “Just wait, you’ll love it!”
Kendra put up with the overly-superlative sales pitch with her usual grumpy suspicion as the realtor led them through the rooms along the top floor. It didn’t seem as bad as she’d expected, though. There were no dead bodies, all the walls seemed intact, and the only red flag she saw was that there was a huge layer of dust covering everything.
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