“If I wanted to break up, I’d be gone already.”
A cloud of smoke erupted at his feet. The cloud dispersed, and he was nowhere to be seen. Tia grabbed a towel to flap at the wisps drifting toward the smoke detector.
Hiro took her by the hand and pulled her close to him. He kissed her, and she pressed herself tight against him.
“I’m still here,” he said.
She smiled. “I noticed.”
The smoke detector shrieked.
“Damn it,” said Tia. “This is why I ask you not to pull that ninja-vanish bullshit in the house.”
Connie stepped into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess, and she sported a bruise on her face. She said nothing and quickly checked their eyes.
“The Roquefort? You didn’t eat any, did you?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” said Hiro.
“I hate blue cheese,” said Tia. “I only bought it because it was on sale.”
“Good.” Connie opened the refrigerator. “Tell me you have pickles.”
“Bottom shelf. What’s happening now?”
“You might have bought some evil cheese.” Connie pulled the half-full jar of pickles from the fridge.
“I’m not a fan, but I didn’t know Roquefort could be evil.”
“It’s not Roquefort. It’s a type of sentient fungus that’s indistinguishable from Roquefort until it comes into contact with a viable host. It nearly conquered the south of France once. I stopped it. Now it’s trying to kill me for that.”
“So, all my party guests are going to become cheese zombies?” said Tia.
“Not if you show me where your squeeze water bottles are.”
Connie poured the pickle juice into the bottle, screwed on the cap. She walked briskly to the master bathroom with Tia and Hiro following.
Millie, hogtied with several towels, lay twitching in the bathtub. There wasn’t much fight left in her at the moment as she neared final assimilation. Connie grabbed Millie by the chin and squeezed a hefty amount of juice down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, vomiting up a glob of rancid white-and-blue slime.
“What the hell?” she asked with equal parts anger and confusion before throwing up some more.
“She’ll be okay,” said Connie. “I should’ve spotted the signs right away, but I was too distracted by Byron.” She sighed. “Damn it, I forgot about Byron.”
Jennifer from accounting, not Jennifer from customer service, shuffled through the doorway. Blue speckles spotted her flesh, and cheesy drool dripped from her lips. Connie knocked Jennifer off her feet and squirted the antidote into her mouth. Not having eaten as much as Millie, she still coughed up a handful of the rancid cheese.
“Call an ambulance,” said Connie. “I’ll take care of everything else.”
Tia already had her phone out. “On it.”
Most of the party guests were in various stages of infection. Many lay convulsing on the floor. Several others stood around in a stupor. The few that hadn’t eaten the cheese huddled in a corner, confused by this turn of events. Jennifer from customer service made a clumsy attempt at attack. Connie pinned her to the wall and force-fed her the antidote. She took care of the room before moving on to Byron. One problem at a time.
“Connie?” asked Byron from over her shoulder.
She held down a spitting, howling old man, struggling to open his snapping jaws long enough to cure him, but she paused long enough to see Byron was okay. He must not have been a fan of Roquefort either. Thank heaven for small miracles.
“Give me one second,” she said with a relieved smile. “This guy is being really stubborn about this.”
She finally gave up on his mouth and squirted the juice up one of his nostrils. He curled up on the floor and threw up. Connie patted him on the back. “There, there. All better now.”
She gave everyone else another quick check for infection, ending with Byron. His eyes were clear and his skin unspeckled.
Worlds had finally collided, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. Byron hadn’t said much of anything yet, and she wasn’t sure what to say either. So, they both said nothing.
Tia broke the silence. “Ambulance is on its way. I also called Agent Ellington.”
“Didn’t know you had her number,” said Connie.
“She gave it to me. Said I might need it.”
“Very considerate of her. Everyone should be okay now with some follow-up care.”
Tia helped one of her guests up. “Guess the party’s over.”
4
The ambulances and government operatives arrived. The infected guests were taken away for treatment to ensure the last of the fungal infection was cleared. Agent Ellington took statements, but Connie cut it short. It wasn’t as if Ellington didn’t know where to find Connie. She wanted to get home, get Byron away from this stuff.
He drove, not saying much, and she relished the blessed silence. It couldn’t last, though.
“I didn’t expect it to be so violent,” said Byron.
“Why would you?” asked Connie. “It was just supposed to be a party.”
“I’m not talking about the party. I’m talking about the fight.”
“I live a dangerous life,” she said.
Byron sighed. “I knew that. But watching you beat the shit out of people . . . it’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect anything,” he said. “You have adventures. It was fun to think of my girlfriend out there, somewhere, fighting bad guys and discovering lost treasures, saving the day. I knew there was danger, but you’re always so capable. You can do everything.”
“Not everything,” said Connie.
“Close enough.”
“Byron, I promise you I’ll do my best to see that something like this doesn’t ever happen again.”
“That’s just it. It will happen again. If I’m part of your life, you can’t stop it from happening.”
She wished she could argue, but there was a radius of weirdness and danger extending to Connie and her immediate friends. It didn’t get Mom and Dad often, but even they weren’t entirely immune.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you mixed up in this part of my life.”
“Connie, I knew who you were on our first date. I could’ve walked away at any moment. I didn’t. It wasn’t because I wanted to have an adventure. It was because I liked you. I’m not an idiot. I was expecting something like this sooner or later.”
“You were?”
He pulled a fleck of evil cheese from his hair. “Not this exactly. But something. It’s unsettling. Violent. I don’t really like it.”
“You can drop me off at my place,” she said.
“Damn it, Connie, will you let me finish? We all have our baggage. Yours is just more colorful than mine. But, damn it, I love you.”
It was the first time either of them had said it. They’d been dating a year now, but they’d been hedging their bets by avoiding the word. And now he’d gone and raised the stakes.
“I’m not sure I can protect you,” she said.
“Sure, you can. You’ve protected Tia all these years.”
“That’s different. Tia has practice with this. She’s almost as experienced as I am. She knows when to keep her head down.”
“I’ll learn. I’ve signed up for some self-defense classes. And I bought a Swiss army knife.”
“Problem solved, then. If you’re serious, you have no idea what you’re in for. Do you want some time to think about it?”
“I’ve thought about it.” He took her hand. “I’m willing to take a few lumps. I dated a woman who broke out in baby talk all the time. This is a lot less irritating. And if I get into trouble, you’ll rescue me.”
“Most guys wouldn’t take being the damsel in distress so happily.”
“I’m a modern man.” Byron leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And most guys aren’t lucky enough to be dating C
onstance Verity.”
She laughed. “For a regular guy, you’re pretty special.”
“That’s why we work so well together.”
Sighing, she shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I just realized I love you too.”
5
There were henchagents waiting outside of Larry’s apartment. Neither of them acknowledged him as he approached the door. Their skull-shaped helmets covered their faces, and their red jumpsuits covered everything else, even their hands. They didn’t move, making it easy to mistake them for statues.
He slipped his key into the lock. “Evening, fellas. Um . . . ladies.” It could’ve gone either way. It didn’t really matter.
He entered his apartment and tossed his keys into the bowl by the table. A tall, dark silhouette stood framed by the fading light coming through the half-closed blinds.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
The woman stepped forward. She wasn’t his mother. She was taller, about his age, wearing a gray suit with a black tie. Unlike the henchagents, she wasn’t wearing a helmet. She was striking, which didn’t surprise him. The elite minions tended toward extremes, either scarred and hideous with metal teeth or supermodel good looks.
“You’re new,” he said.
The woman adjusted her black-rimmed glasses, pulling them to the end of her nose before pushing them back up. It felt like being eyed by a predator. Without malice but with a cold calculation of whether he was worth killing.
“Lord Peril, your mother sent us,” she said.
“Tell her I’m not interested,” he replied. “I’m out of the evil-genius game. I’ve made my peace with that.”
The woman glided toward him, and he was struck by how much taller she was. Really, it was only a few inches, but it seemed more. “You were never meant to be an office manager. You were groomed for greater things.”
Larry walked past her. He was aware of his own plodding, clumsy steps. Her presence alone put him in mind of a three-legged antelope loping pathetically.
“We all know how that worked out,” he said as he grabbed an apple juice from the fridge. “Mom will just have to look elsewhere for her successor. Not that I expect she’ll ever need one. The old lady will probably live forever.”
“Lady Peril is dead.”
He would’ve laughed, but it was no longer funny. “Right. Just like the last time. And the time before that.” He put the juice back and grabbed a beer. He struggled with the twist-off. “Didn’t catch your name.”
She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Apollonia.”
He took the beer back, tilted it back, sputtered as a bit of foam went up his nose. He grabbed paper towels to dab at his damp shirt.
“Well, Apollonia, I don’t know how long you’ve been working for Mom, but she dies a lot.” He set down the beer and used his fingers for air quotes. “She dies a lot. It’s kind of hard to give a damn at this point. Did they find a body?”
“No.”
“That settles it. No body, no death. Not that a body would prove anything either.”
Apollonia eyed him with undisguised disapproval. She and Mom must’ve gotten along swimmingly.
He said, “I don’t know what your deal is, but you can go back to whatever secret headquarters you crawled out of and wait for her to return. Because she’ll be back.”
He went for his beer, but Apollonia snatched it off the table. She went to his cupboard and looking for a glass. “Don’t you have any mugs?”
“I just moved in.”
“Three years ago,” she said.
“Mom’s been keeping an eye on me.” It wasn’t a question. He’d known.
“All in the files.” Apollonia settled on a Slurpee cup with a picture of Optimus Prime on it.
“Careful,” he said. “That’s a collectible.”
She poured the beer with a steady hand. “No serious relationships in four years. Two dates with an office temp, leading to one brief, awkward sexual encounter. No call afterward.”
“I’m not in the right place for a relationship,” he said.
“No known associates or friends.”
“I go bowling on Tuesdays.”
“Coworkers, not friends,” she said. “191 average.”
“I’m getting better.”
“Actually, your scores have been declining these last three months. No hobbies. A few flirty exchanges with the cashier at the local convenience store. In bed by ten on most nights. Unremarkable job performance.”
She handed him the glass. He took a drink. It did taste better, though there was only so much to be done with Pabst Blue Ribbon.
“I’m trying to keep a low profile,” he said. “Doing better would lead to a promotion. I’m happy where I’m at right now.”
“You should eat something.” Apollonia opened the refrigerator and sorted through his provisions. “Do you have anything besides bologna?”
“I like bologna. Beats the hell out of the tasteless nutritional paste I was raised on.”
She tossed the lunch meat on the table, grabbed his half-jar of mayonnaise, and found his bread.
“So, you’re here to pour my beers and make my sandwiches?” he asked. “Seems like a waste of your talents.”
She rinsed a dirty butter knife in the sink. She turned, and he assumed from the look in her eye that she was debating whether to use it on the mayo or him.
“Whether you accept it or not, Lady Peril has appointed you her handpicked successor.”
“Now I know you’re full of shit. Mom would never trust me with her legacy.”
“Nevertheless, she has,” said Apollonia.
She made the sandwich, her every move a model of efficiency. She even cut off the crusts, like he liked. They probably had a file on that somewhere.
“I don’t know you, Lord Peril—”
“It’s Larry.” He bit into his sandwich. “Just Larry.”
“I don’t know you, Larry. From everything I’ve learned, I see your lack of ambition to be entirely justified.”
“Jeez, for a minion, you’re not very nice.”
“I am not a minion. Those idiots outside your door, they’re minions.”
“What are you, then?”
“I’m someone Lady Peril entrusted to inform you of this opportunity. I don’t give a damn whether you take it or not.”
“So, if I say no, you’ll go?”
She nodded.
“What happens to Siege Perilous if I say no?” he asked.
“Not your problem, is it?
“I’m no mastermind. I’m not interested in conquering the world. What the hell would I do as head of an international criminal organization?”
“That’s up to you,” she said. “I’m just the messenger.”
She cleaned up her mess, though most of the bread was moldy, so she threw that away. He sat on his couch and viewed his small, plainly decorated apartment. This was his life now, and it wasn’t great, but it could be worse. It’d get better.
Apollonia gave him his TV remote. “You’ll want this.”
She opened the door, a shadow of possibility, maybe the last sliver of a life he’d never lived walking out of the life he was living, but just barely.
“Hey, wait. I guess it doesn’t hurt to take a look, right?” he asked.
She didn’t smile as she stepped aside and gestured toward the door. “After you, Lord Peril.”
6
Connie and Byron arrived ahead of their realtor. They didn’t mind waiting in the lobby, but Annie had left word that they were to be shown to the condo and wait for her there. A nice older man named Sven led the way and offered to give them the tour. Byron accepted, but Connie elected to wait in the hall. When Annie arrived, they’d have to do the whole thing over again, and she didn’t feel like paying attention twice.
The door across the hall opened, and a pair of older ge
ntlemen stepped out. Both wore crisp polo shirts and perfectly creased slacks. They had the bronzed skin and straight white teeth of catalogue models. She assumed they were off to stand somewhere nondescript, hands in pockets, smiling and talking about the virtues of relaxed-fit clothing in solid colors.
“Oh, hello,” said the blond one. His voice had the smooth polish of a radio ad announcer. Not the fun guy who got the clever dialogue, but the one rattling the legal copy at the very end. “You must be our new prospective tenant.”
“Must be,” said Connie, shaking their hands. Their palms were dry and cracked, as were their faces around the neck and ears upon closer inspection. Too much tanning, she told herself, though her experience suggested otherwise.
Vance, the blond one of the two, appraised her. “Have we met before?”
“I just have one of those faces,” she said.
They would find out. Eventually. Everyone found out.
She wondered if the condo board would accept their offer. Not everyone saw her colorful history as a bonus. She’d had one apartment burn down and a rental house explode. That would probably reflect badly on her application. Enough money could smooth anything over, and Agent Ellington might be able to put in a good word.
“You’ll love it here,” said Luke, the dark-haired one. “It’s a great building. Everyone is very friendly.”
He blinked. Slowly. Not so slowly that someone would notice it if they weren’t looking for it, but she was looking.
Their haircuts were identical. Stylishly shaggy, covering the tops of their ears. Ears that were probably pointed.
They smiled. Their skin crinkled, and a bit of dark red showed by their eyes where the flesh pulled away from whatever was underneath.
She didn’t need this. Not today.
“We have a great sushi restaurant just a few blocks down,” said Luke.
“Okay,” said Connie, “I’m just going to come out and ask it. I hope it’s not rude, but you’re Bluphinites, aren’t you?”
They smiled at one another. “What is a Bluphinite?” asked Vance innocently.
“You don’t have to lie about it,” she said. “I’m just asking. Your disguises are very good. I just know what to look for.”
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 4