Constance Verity Saves the World

by A. Lee Martinez

  The ordeal had been terrifying, but looking back on it now, it was almost quaint.

  “We all have our fetishes,” said Hiro. “If you like, I can pretend to be an alien come to steal you to ensure the genetic survival of my species.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “If you want my opinion—” he started.

  “I don’t.”

  “—I think it’s not the abductions you miss. It’s having something to come along and break up your day now and then. Connie might be the adventurer, but you’ve done some amazing things, seen some amazing places.”

  “Not really,” she said. “I’m usually blindfolded.”

  “You’re sidestepping.” He took her hand. “When’s the last time you and Connie did something thrilling and heroic? Not counting the cheese zombies?”

  “I don’t know. Month or two ago. We broke up an exotic animal smuggling ring. Saved a rare tiger. Might have been magic. I was never really clear on that.”

  “I remember the day you came back from Sumatra.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I remember that night even more.”

  She smiled, despite herself. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’m right. You always get grumpy when it’s been too long. I get the same way when I don’t do my thing. Not that I do it anymore.”

  She pulled away from him and opened the drawer on his bedside table. The Hope Diamond lay there with his mints and Daniel Steele novel.

  “How did that get there?” he said, and she was almost convinced he was innocent.

  “Uh-hmm.” She closed the drawer and sat next to him on the bed.

  “You’re bored,” he said. “And you’re missing your friend. You two are closer than most anyone could be, but now there’s Byron, and he’s taking up a lot of Connie’s time.”

  “That’s normal.”

  “Normal, sure, but it’s still hard on you. You’ve had Connie to yourself, more or less, for a long time. She might have gone off to save the world without you regularly, and every so often with you, but when she was here, she didn’t have much to get in the way of hanging out.”

  “Okay. So, maybe you’re onto something.”

  “I am. And the best part is I even know how to fix your problem.”

  “Oh, do you?”

  “Call her,” he said. “Tell her you want to go with her on whatever strange adventure she goes on next.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “Didn’t you make her take her with you when you destroyed the Great Engine?”

  “That was the exception.”

  “Make another exception. You’ll be glad you did, and I bet Connie would love to have you along.”

  Tia said, “I see what you’re doing. You think if I go off on some wild adventure, I’ll come back not annoyed at you.”

  “I’ll admit it sounds nice.”

  “And while I’m away, you’re free to do your thing.”

  “Seems only fair. You must admit, we do avoid these types of evenings when we’re allowed our indulgences.”

  “I don’t approve of stealing.”

  “Nor should you. Distasteful business, really. But I console myself by being terribly good at it.”

  He winked, and she went for her cell, but it wasn’t in her pocket.

  “Looking for this?” asked Hiro, holding the cell in his hand.

  She reached for it, and he pulled it away.

  “It was your idea to call Connie,” she said.

  “Yes, but not right this minute.” He lifted her up in his arms and had her on the bed in one graceful sweep. “Unless, of course, you’d rather get something to eat first.”

  Laughing, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close.

  8

  It was Byron’s idea to throw a housewarming party and invite the neighbors. Connie hadn’t spent much time at home in the past. She’d never had much reason, but now that adventures were more infrequent and she was in a relationship, she planned on being there more often. It couldn’t hurt to get to know the other condo residents. If she made a good impression, they might overlook the occasional incident that was bound to happen.

  She never would’ve thought of it herself, but that was why life with Byron was an adventure. It wasn’t simply getting a chance to do normal things. It was having someone in her life who knew how to do them.

  While Byron prepared the snacks, Connie did a final check. They’d unpacked, mostly. Some boxes were shoved into a closet and an out-of-the-way corner. They’d used half of her furniture and half of his. It didn’t match, but her furniture rarely did. They’d gathered a dozen folding chairs. Among them, she spotted an old stoop chair antique.

  “Byron, did you put the cursed Busby chair out?” she asked.

  “No. I thought we put that in basement storage,” he said.

  She picked up the haunted chair and shoved it in a closet. “Nice try. Now stay.”

  The cursed chair sat there innocently as she closed the door on it.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “Can you get that, honey?” shouted Byron from the kitchen.

  “Sure thing,” she shouted back, feeling very domestic at that moment. It was weird but welcome.

  She opened the door. Doctor Malady and his robot bride Automatica stood in the hall. The evil genius smirked at her. “Ah, Miss Verity, so good to—”

  Connie seized Malady by the collar, pulled him inside, and threw him against the wall. She pinned his arms behind his back while searching him for nefarious devices.

  “I saw you die, Doctor,” she said.

  “Oh, that. I got better.”

  “I don’t know why you’re here,” said Connie, “but I’m only going to tell you once. Byron is off-limits. If you want revenge, you won’t start anything here. Am I being clear?”

  Doctor Malady nodded. His monocle fell. “Very, though I’m not here for vengeance.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “The housewarming,” he said. “We brought cookies.”

  Automatica, the Doctor’s robot bride, stepped forward and uncovered a platter of cookies. “They’re sugar.”

  Connie released Malady and sniffed a cookie suspiciously.

  Automatica, her face an unchanging metal smile, said, “I do hope they are satisfactory. An analysis showed sweetness variance within acceptable parameters.”

  “Don’t be so modest, my dear. Your baking skills are second to none.”

  The seven-foot-tall robotic woman tittered. “Oh, you. Excessive flattery will increase my self-esteem matrix to inadvisable settings.”

  He winked, reset his monocle, and had a cookie.

  “You’re not here for revenge?” asked Connie.

  “Heavens, no,” said Doctor Malady. “Revenge is a sucker’s game. I’m honestly glad you foiled me the last time we met. A man has time to think about his life choices as he’s plummeting into a volcano for the second time. Puts things in perspective.”

  “What’s your scheme?”

  “No scheme. We’re retired. Aren’t we, sweetie?”

  Automatica beeped an affirmative. “Current mission objective: wedded bliss.”

  She leaned downward to allow the short evil genius to kiss her cheek.

  “I suppose it was unfair to spring ourselves on you like this,” said Doctor Malady. “When I’d heard you were moving into the building, I suspected this would be an issue.”

  Byron stepped out of the kitchen. “Oh, friends of yours, honey?”

  “I’m afraid calling ourselves friends might be a bit of an overstep,” said Malady. “More like respected rivals. Though who can know what the future might hold? You must be Byron. A pleasure to meet you.”

  Automatica curtsied. “We brought cookies.”

  “You can set them on the kitchen table,” said Byron.

  The Doctor and Automatica wandered into the kitchen.

  “Should I be concerned?” asked Byron.

  “I’ll le
t you know,” replied Connie.

  They followed their guests into the other room.

  “Don’t tell me we’re the first ones. This is your fault, y’know,” Doctor Malady said to Automatica.

  “Punctuality is among my higher directives,” admitted Automatica.

  “It’s just as well,” said the Doctor. “It gives us a chance to clear things up. I don’t blame you for being suspicious, Constance, but I can assure you that my villainy days are well behind me. I don’t expect you to trust me. Not right away. But we do hope we can put our past behind us. I’d like us to be good neighbors.”

  “You live in the building?” asked Byron.

  “Unit 2A. You should drop by sometime. Automatica and I do love company.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Connie. “You’re up to something.”

  Doctor Malady chuckled, a soft rasp that scraped its way out of his throat. “Perhaps I am. If so, then I can think of nothing better for this world than having Constance Verity three floors up, keeping an eye on me. If I can be honest, I have had the old megalomaniacal itch, but now that you’re here, I know it would all be pointless. You’re my own little reminder that all my previous world-conquest attempts haven’t fared very well.”

  “Shall I prioritize disassembly of the subjugatitron, then, dear?” asked Automatica.

  “Oh, not just yet. Haven’t the heart to tear it apart. A memento of a different man. Perfectly harmless so long as its power core isn’t replaced.”

  “Shall I cancel the delivery of the new power core, then?” asked Automatica.

  “Now, now, dear. No need to bore our hosts with the trifles of our daily lives.” Doctor Malady smiled sheepishly at Connie. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Thanks,” said Byron. “Would you care for a tour?”

  “As a matter of fact, Automatica was hoping to see how you’ve remodeled the bathroom. She isn’t happy with ours.”

  “Its spatial dimensions are a barrier to efficient functionality,” said Automatica.

  “I hear that,” said Byron. “We installed a whole new sink. Really opens up the room.”

  “Color us intrigued,” said the Doctor as Byron led them away.

  Connie stayed in the kitchen. She didn’t buy that Malady was retired, but this wasn’t the time nor place for that confrontation. Malady wasn’t likely to start something there. He was an evil genius, but he always did have a sense of decorum.

  The next guest arrived. The elderly couple, named Jim and Nim, lived on the second floor. They brought a fruit tart. Connie showed them in as Byron returned with Malady and Automatica.

  “Jim, Nim, how lovely to see you,” said Doctor Malady. “And is this your famous fruit tart I see before me? You must share the recipe one day.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” said Nim with a coy titter.

  “Now, Nim, don’t make me dig my old hypno-ray out of storage.”

  Jim and Nim and Malady and Automatica all laughed. Byron offered them something to drink as another knock came. Connie answered it and was greeted by a tall, pale gentleman in a dark suit.

  “Hello,” he said. “Welcome to the building.”

  His accent was vaguely European, and his bloodshot eyes pierced her soul. Her soul had been pierced on multiple occasions, and most creatures that could do that tended to be impressed by what they saw.

  He smiled. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Vampire, right?” she said.

  He nodded. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it? The invite made no mention of excluding the undead.”

  “No, I guess not. Please, come in.” She stepped aside. “Though if you have an invitation, you didn’t have to ask to enter.”

  He floated through the doorway. An unnatural fog swirled around his ankles. “It is still a matter of politeness, is it not?”

  “And I appreciate it. So, you live here too?”

  “Unit 1B. Got a great deal on it because it has terrible sun exposure. Welcome to the building.” He smoothed back his slick, black hair and produced a bottle of wine from under his opera cloak. “A delightful vintage, I’m told. I don’t drink the stuff, myself.”

  She pointed him toward the kitchen.

  The guests arrived in a steady stream. Most of them were normal people. People with names like Nathan or Pepper or Craig and normal jobs like accountant or lawyer or auto mechanic. But mingled among them came the occasional alien or scientist-adventurer or derring-doer. Things were going fine, though Duke Warlock, vampire, and Baron Solaris, vampire hunter, were giving each other a wide berth. Doctor Malady wasn’t too keen on Automatica making time with Luke and Vance’s security robot, but so far, it was little more than a few unhappy glances on his part.

  Tia and Hiro were the last to arrive.

  “Sorry we’re late,” said Tia. “Somebody had to change three times.”

  “You might dislike the wait,” said Hiro as he smoothed his lapel, “but I think we can both agree with the results.”

  Tia scanned the gathering. “A colorful group.”

  Connie shrugged. “No hijinks yet. Although Byron’s sister is talking to a bunch of gnomes in an overcoat. Fortunately, she has a boyfriend, so that’s probably not going anywhere.”

  Byron pulled himself away from a conversation. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Glad to be invited.” Hiro handed Byron a small rectangle wrapped in brown paper. “It’s a Vermeer. I do hope you like it.”

  Hiro and Tia mingled with the crowd.

  “We’re returning that,” said Connie.

  “I assumed.” Byron kissed her. “Something bothering you?”

  “I wanted normal, and here we are with three robots at our housewarming.”

  “Three? I only count two.”

  She pointed to Lucy from 4C. “Android. She may not know.”

  “Okay, so we have some robots and a mad scientist and Susan Lash, rogue archeologist, at our party. We also have Jim and Nim, Bart and Vanessa and Yolanda. So, we have a few eccentric neighbors. Everybody’s getting along. Automatica does make a mean cookie, and Warlock has excellent taste in wine. I think it’s going great.”

  “You’re not worried about living next door to fugitive aliens and a vampire one floor down?”

  “They seem like perfectly nice neighbors, and nobody in the building seems put off by them. I think you’re just put off by not being the most interesting person in the room.”

  “Did I ever tell you about the time I used a Rubik’s cube to prevent Zorthlokart the All-Devouring from consuming the galaxy?” she asked.

  “All right, the most obviously interesting person in the room,” he corrected. “But look at it this way. With neighbors like these, we probably don’t have to worry about complaints when something does happen.”

  He made sense, but she was still on edge. She was so used to trouble, it was impossible for her to imagine all these elements mixing together without repercussions. Her own adventure-drawing presence might just be the catalyst to throw the delicate balance out of whack.

  The front door burst open and a quartet of masked gunmen entered the condo. They waved their machine guns around the room as their leader stepped forward.

  “Your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Follow instructions and this will all go smoothly. We don’t want any trouble. It is in your interest as well as ours that this is over as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  Connie pushed Byron behind her and grabbed a pig in a blanket. She ate the hors d’oeuvre and clutched the toothpick between two fingers, waiting for the nearest thug to draw a few steps closer.

  The leader droned on. “The previous tenant of this condominium left an object of some value that we are here to recover. It shall take us only a few minutes at most to—”

  Doctor Malady zapped the leader with a transmogrifier ray, and the petrified statue stood in mid-sentence.

  A gunman attempted to fire on Malady, but Automatica snatched away h
is gun and bent it into a useless lump. Max Jackhammer, Crimebuster, coldcocked two others. The final gunman paused, thought better of the whole situation, dropped his weapon, and bolted out the front door.

  The party resumed.

  Doctor Malady pocketed his ray gun and tapped his knuckles on the petrified gangster. “Don’t worry. The effect is temporary. I think. 90 percent certain it should wear off in a decade or two. Century at the most.”

  Connie tossed her toothpick on the tray. “Maybe this is the right place for us after all.”

  Byron smiled. “Told ya.”

  9

  A ringing phone in the middle of the night was never a good sign.

  Connie rolled over in bed and cuddled Byron.

  The phone kept ringing.

  “Are you going to answer that?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “What if it’s important?”

  “It isn’t.”

  She kissed his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  The phone kept ringing.

  “We should answer it,” he said.

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “What if somebody we know is in trouble?”

  “Somebody I know is always in trouble,” she replied.

  “What if it’s not somebody you know? What if it’s somebody I know?”

  “It isn’t. Go to sleep.”

  He sat up and switched on the lamp. “Why does it keep ringing if it’s not an emergency?”

  Sighing, she turned her back to the light. “It’s always an emergency, but I don’t always have to answer the call.”

  “What if you don’t?” Byron asked. “What if it’s some alien-fighting guy and he needs your help to fight aliens and you don’t take the call and tomorrow, the Earth is enslaved?”

  “Then I’ll take care of it.” She pulled the blankets over her head. “Tomorrow.”

  The phone stopped ringing.

  “There?” She lowered the blanket. “See?”

  It started ringing again.

  “I’m going to answer it.” He reached for the phone, but Connie put her arms around him, pulling him away.

  “You could do that, or . . .” She kissed his neck.