They drove to the party. She didn’t say much. She’d faced down armies of mutants with less dread. He filled the car with a little small talk, but mostly, he held her hand. It made her feel like everything was going to be all right.
The party was a dozen people. Most of them were Tia’s friends, people from the ordinary parts of her life. Connie didn’t know many of them aside from their names and faces. They were nice, normal people with nice, normal lives. Connie didn’t have much in common with them, but she knew how to fake it.
Tia greeted Connie and Byron at the door. She hugged Connie then Byron.
“So nice to finally meet you,” said Tia. “Connie’s told me a lot about you.”
“Really?” he replied. “She hasn’t told me much about you, actually.”
“Oh, we should change that, then. Do you mind if I borrow him for a bit? Help yourself to some cheese while we talk.”
She took Byron’s arm and guided him away before Connie could object.
Connie found the table, loaded with appetizers and a hefty cheese plate. She grabbed herself a pig in a blanket and a beer. The crowd milled about. She exchanged a few pleasantries with anyone who wandered nearby, but no conversations started. Connie scanned the party for Hiro. She was surprised he wasn’t there.
“Hello, Connie,” Hiro said from beside her.
She didn’t jump, but only because she had a lot of practice at not jumping.
“Christ, you love doing that, don’t you?” she asked.
“One must stay in practice,” he replied. “Byron seems nice.”
“He is nice,” said Connie. “Have you talked to him yet?”
“Not yet, but he’s an organ donor and an NPR supporter as well. Good for him.”
“You stole his wallet?”
“I’m offended. I don’t steal small. I borrowed his wallet. And his keys. And forty-one cents in change from his pockets. Just to get a sense of him. Well, the change was just for the hell of it.”
Connie glared.
“I’ll return everything before he even notices they’re gone,” said Hiro. “Heaven forbid he lose his Subway sandwich reward card. He’s three punches away from a free six-inch.”
“Hiro, if you ruin this for me . . .”
But of course he was gone again. It would’ve been infuriating if she wasn’t used to it by now. Now it was only annoying.
Byron and Tia chatted across the room. Connie deliberately avoided reading their lips. It was a conversation. Nothing more. Tia and Byron were the two most important people in Connie’s life. They should meet. They should talk. She’d give them a few more minutes before joining them. Four or five minutes. Three.
Three would be enough.
They laughed. That was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.
She was less concerned with Tia than with Hiro. Tia was at least a regular person. A ninja ex-boyfriend was more troublesome.
Millie came forward and nodded to Connie. “Oh, hello.”
Connie pushed forward her most diplomatic smile. Millie was the closest thing to an archenemy Connie had in her ordinary life. She had plenty of archenemies in her adventure life. Too many. It stretched the definition of the word. But on the ordinary side of things, Millie was Connie’s biggest foe.
Millie had been Tia’s friend for years now. Her ordinary friend. They did ordinary things together and dealt with ordinary problems. Connie tried to be there for Tia, but there were times when adventure conflicted. Millie was there to pick up the slack. It should’ve been a good thing. There was plenty of Tia to go around.
But there was a weird conflict between Connie and Millie. A friendship tug-of-war, a struggle for best-friend status. Millie didn’t have much of a chance in the battle because Connie and Tia had been friends for nearly thirty years. But it was obvious she wanted the title and resented Connie for having it.
It was all a bit silly, but Connie was competitive enough that she found herself invested in the contest more than she should have.
“Try the Roquefort yet?” asked Millie. “I don’t usually like it, but this is delicious.”
She cut a thick slice and put it on a tiny cracker before taking a big bite.
“So, that’s Byron?” asked Millie, her mouth full, implying something with her tone. Something Connie couldn’t decipher.
“Yes.”
“He seems . . . nice.”
“He is nice,” replied Connie pleasantly, forcing a lilt in her reply.
“Not what I expected from you.”
Connie swallowed her irritation. If she could ignore the thinly veiled insults of the King of the Mummies, she could ignore this.
“Doesn’t really seem your type,” said Millie, cutting another hunk of the Roquefort, not even bothering with the cracker this time.
“What type is that?” asked Connie before she could stop herself.
“Oh, nice and stable and, well, a little boring.”
Connie could jab Millie in a pressure point on her torso that would go unnoticed but would cause her to drop dead in six months. Untraceable. No one could prove anything.
“He’s a good guy,” said Connie.
“I’m sure he is.
“So, did Tia tell you about her promotion yet?” asked Millie.
“No.”
Millie grinned. Little bits of white and blue stuck in her teeth. “Oh, I’m sure she was planning on it soon. You’ve just been busy . . . doing whatever it is you do.”
“Saving the world,” said Connie.
“Yes. That.”
Untraceable.
“I’m sure it’s important stuff,” said Millie. “Tia was planning on getting around to telling you eventually.”
Sometimes, Connie hated civilized society. She’d discovered a lost tribe in Asia who settled all interpersonal conflicts with hatchet fights. Bloody, sure, but definitive.
“Uh-huh,” said Connie, grabbing a bunch of crackers and walking away. Some battles weren’t worth fighting. Millie had been a distraction, and Connie had lost track of Tia and Byron. Connie drifted through the party, acting casual, hunting for them.
“They’re in the backyard,” said Hiro from beside her.
She didn’t jump. She’d been expecting him. She hadn’t detected him, but his timing was predictable.
She reached for a cracker in her plate, but they were all gone. His plate was filled, though.
“Goddamn it,” she said.
“Practice.” He bit into a cracker and offered her some of his.
“I thought you told Tia you were going straight.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to be boring. Speaking of boring, are you sure this guy is right for you?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Boring is what I need.”
“So, you admit it, then. He is boring.”
“Poor choice of words,” said Connie. “He’s normal.”
“Normal is just a nice way of saying boring.”
“No, normal is a nice way of saying he won’t disappear on me the moment things get serious. Normal means he’s not a cyborg from the future or an alien or a barbarian warlord or a secret agent or whatever.”
“If that’s what you want . . .”
She stopped him. “It is. I like this guy a lot, and if you screw this up for me, master ninja or not, I will find you and I will kill you. There isn’t a hole deep enough for even you to hide in. I’ll track you to the ends of the universe. That’s a promise.”
Hiro said, “That’s not a very normal thing to say.”
“We’re not very normal people,” she replied. “But Byron is, so let’s smile and act like we’re the same.”
“You forget. I’m a ninja. Trained in the art of blending in. I’ve mastered the ninjaly art of inane small talk. I can put a man to sleep just by talking about the weather. This will be no problem for me. I’m more concerned for you. Can you really manage this? Hiding half of your life from him? It isn’t necessarily fair to you or him. And it’s a lot of strain to p
ut on a relationship.”
“I don’t hide it from him. I don’t dwell on it.”
“Still, it’s a balancing act I don’t envy. I can’t imagine how Tia and I would manage if I had to act as if I didn’t steal things for a living.”
“Don’t you mean used to steal things?”
Hiro forced a laugh. “Oh, yes, yes. Of course. Used to steal things. No stealing for me now. I’m a good boy.”
Connie replied with silence.
“There might be some incidental stealing,” he said. “Nothing big. Just a little contract now and then. Tia and I have an unspoken understanding.”
“And she knows about this?”
“I assume. It’s not like we’ve talked about it. That’s what makes it unspoken.” He waved his hands. “How did we end up talking about my relationship? This is about you and Byron. And I like him. I do. But I don’t see it going the distance with you two.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“Let me finish. I’d like to think of us as friends, and I will do what I can to help you make this work. But, as your friend and as a ninja dating a normal woman, I can tell you finding that balance is key. We are who we are. We can’t change that. Now, let’s go check up on our significant others and act like you aren’t a regular visitor to the center of the Earth or that I didn’t steal the Mona Lisa last weekend.”
“Hiro . . .”
“Unspoken,” he said with a smile as he pushed her outside.
They found Tia and Byron sitting at a table on the patio. Tia was a regular person. Mostly. She’d been, willingly and unwillingly, on a significant number of Connie’s adventures. Tia had her war stories. But she surely knew enough not to share many of those stories with Byron. Connie, who had met gods, knew better than to pray for their aid, but Hachiman, god of war, archery, and agriculture, did owe her a favor. She wasn’t above cashing it in now, but he’d probably reply by shooting Byron with an arrow or making it rain. Neither would be very helpful.
Connie and Hiro had a seat, catching Tia and Byron in the middle of a chuckle. They shared knowing smiles.
“Having fun?” Connie asked.
“She really is nervous about this, isn’t she?” said Byron.
“Yes, weird, considering her past experience,” said Tia.
“All right,” said Connie. “You’ve got me. I’m better with saving the world than this.”
“Connie, you can relax,” said Tia. “I like him. He passes.”
“That’s a relief,” said Byron. “I was honestly a little nervous myself. I know you’re Connie’s normal friend, but I also know you’ve done some stuff. Thought I might come across as boring.”
“Stable is not the same thing as boring,” said Tia.
The weight lifted from Connie’s shoulders. It must’ve been visible to the rest of the table.
“I get the feeling she would’ve broken up with me if you hadn’t approved,” he said.
She didn’t deny it. She wasn’t sure herself. But it didn’t matter. It was a non-problem, and all the time she’d spent worrying about it had been a waste of time.
“Now, now,” said Hiro. “Our Connie isn’t quite so wishy-washy as that.”
Except he didn’t just say it. He said it in that winking, smirking way of his. And he put a little extra oomph on the Our. It was only a matter of time before Byron figured out Hiro and Connie’s past. She should’ve just told him. Why hadn’t she just told him?
Connie was trapped between Scylla and Charybdis. Figuratively. She’d been trapped there once literally, and it’d been easier. She should do something to defuse the situation.
She took the coward’s way out.
“Excuse me. I have to use the bathroom.”
She beat a hasty retreat. It wasn’t her finest moment, but she could take only so much social intrigue. She’d been part of diplomatic conferences that made her less edgy, but in those situations, the most that was at stake was a war or two.
Tia’s guest bathroom was occupied, so Connie used the master. She took her time. Every minute, she wondered if Hiro would spill his secret or if Byron would figure it out. It wasn’t a big deal. People had exes. Her exes just happened to be ninjas, barbarians, and the Prince of the Mole People.
She was making too much of it. It was her reflex. Byron, Hiro, and Tia were not problems to fix. They were her friends. They weren’t out to get her. They’d figure it out on their own. All she had to do was nothing.
It was driving her crazy.
Part of her wished for an alien invasion, a monster attack, a hostage situation. She would’ve killed for a cadre of gunmen to inexplicably crash the party. That would’ve been contrary to everything she was trying to have with Byron, but it’d give her someone to punch, something to solve.
Connie sat on the bath mat cross-legged. She cleared her mind with the meditative technique of the Most Perfect and Humble Yogi Atheeva the Exalted. Atheeva’s favorite technique was to contemplate her own flawlessness and the paradoxical modesty one attained upon the perfection of flawlessness. Connie had always found it a bit suspicious, but Atheeva could levitate and burn holes into walls simply by staring at them, so who was she to argue?
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, wrecking her state of mindful relaxation. It shouldn’t have been enough to disturb her, but it did. The reminder of how far away she was from inner peace only irritated her more, thus ruining the entire point of the exercise.
Grumbling, Connie ceased her pursuit of perfection, though she’d only been aiming for inner chill.
Another knock. More insistent.
“All right, already,” said Connie as she got to her feet and opened the door. “It’s all yours.”
Millie lurched forward. Something shiny flashed in her hand, and Connie’s reflexes kept her from being struck across the face. She intercepted Millie’s second swing and with a twist, forced her to drop the cheese knife. It clattered against the tile floor.
“What the hell?” asked Connie.
Millie grabbed Connie by the hair. Most people Connie fought relied on martial arts skill, not hair-pulling and biting. It caught her off guard. Millie yanked, taking a few strands with her, clutching them in her fist as she rushed forward with a flurry of punches.
Her technique was sloppy, and Connie blocked and dodged almost on autopilot. When the opening came, she punched Millie in the solar plexus. Gasping, she fell to her knees.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” asked Connie.
Millie glanced up with cold white eyes flecked with spots of blue. She growled and crumbs of cheese fell from her lips. Telltale blue speckles colored her cheeks.
“Oh, hell.” She should’ve seen this coming.
With unexpected energy, Millie hurled herself at Connie. Connie sidestepped, knocked Millie’s legs out from under her. Millie hit the floor face-first with a sharp thud.
Connie jumped on Millie’s back and tried several pressure points. Any one of them should’ve rendered Millie unconscious or at least put her in so much discomfort she couldn’t move, but she kept struggling.
With an unexpected burst of strength, Millie threw Connie off and rose to her feet. She stumbled, gurgling and hissing. The person she’d been was gone, buried under a cheesy invading fungus. The thing that had been Millie turned toward Connie and snarled. It lurched forward.
“Goddamn Roquefort,” said Connie before kicking Millie full in the face.
• • •
“So tell me, Byron,” said Hiro. “Where do you see Connie and yourself in five years?”
Tia rolled her eyes. “Hiro . . .”
“I’m just asking.” He leaned closer. “It’s just our Connie has been through a lot of ups and downs, romantically, and we’re concerned.”
“No, we are not,” said Tia. “And you aren’t either. He’s just screwing with you, Byron.”
“It’s okay,” replied Byron. “It’s a legitimate question. I don’t really know, honestly. I like
Connie. A lot. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t have a great track record with dating, myself. And that was with normal people.” He frowned. “God, I hate using that phrase. It makes her sound abnormal.”
“Well, our Connie certainly isn’t ordinary, is she?” said Hiro.
Tia swallowed the last of her drink. “Oh, look, I’m empty. Hiro, honey, it looks like you could use a refill too.”
He handed her his glass. “Thanks.”
She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of his chair. “Perhaps you’d like to join me.”
“Of course, honey.” He smiled. “We’ll be right back, Byron.”
She waited until she was in the kitchen before glaring at him. “What are you doing?”
“Just having a conversation, darling.” He leaned in to kiss her.
She covered his puckered lips with her hand. “This is why you should never date someone who dated your best friend. Too many complications. Are you over Connie?”
He flashed a playful grin at her. He could get away with so much shit because of that grin. “Yes.”
She pushed him away. “God, for a ninja, you are a terrible liar.”
Hiro leaned against the counter, shook his head. “Are we going to have this fight again? Here? Now? What do I have to do to prove that I love you?”
“I know you love me,” she said. “I just don’t know if you love me like you loved her.”
“That’s hardly fair,” he replied. “You’re two different people. I love you for entirely different reasons than I love her.”
“Love?”
Hiro slouched. “Yes, I love her. I’ll always love her. Connie and I have a complicated relationship. But it’d never work between us. Too much baggage.”
“Like all the times you tried to kill her?”
“I never tried to kill her. I only occasionally left her in situations where she might be killed.”
“You just love semantics, don’t you?”
“Oh, damn it, if you want to break up, then let’s just break up.”
Silence filled the kitchen. Tia took a drink directly out of the wine bottle and handed it to Hiro, who did the same.
“Do you want to break up?” she asked.
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 3