“You can’t just distract me with sex,” he said.
“Who’s distracting? I’m just offering alternatives.”
She kissed him. His hand slid down her back. The phone stopped ringing, and she was undoing the string on his pajama bottoms when it started again.
“I have to answer it!” yelled Byron, lunging over her.
She could’ve stopped him, but she was mildly curious herself at this point.
“Hello?” he said. “Uh-huh. Yes.” He put the phone to his chest with an apologetic half-smile. “It’s for you.”
She mimed a surprised expression before taking the phone.
Byron shuffled out of the room for a glass of water.
“This is Verity,” she said. “What do you want?”
She didn’t recognize the voice. “We need your help with a most urgent—”
“It’s late. Get to it. I’d like to get back to sleep.”
The voice gave her an address, and she hung up.
Byron returned and joined her on the bed. He hugged her. “Sorry. I should’ve listened.”
“It’s fine.”
“So, what was it about? Aliens? Space robots? Mutants?”
“Didn’t say,” she said. “Didn’t ask.”
“But it’s a mysterious phone call,” he said. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to be prepared?”
“Not really. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it in the morning.” She undid the pajama string.
“So, you really weren’t trying to distract me?”
“I was, but now that we’re both up, might as well make the most of it.” She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
• • •
In the morning, Byron got dressed for work while Connie lay in bed.
“Are you sure it’s smart to go alone?” asked Byron.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” said Connie. “I do this all the time.”
“It’s still weird to me that you’re going at all.”
“It’s not that weird. Think of it like this. Do you have meetings at your job? And do a lot of those meetings seem pointless or vaguely purposed?”
“Sure.”
“And do you sometimes wish you could just not go to those meetings, but you go anyway because you know not going will just make everything more of a hassle around the office?”
“Sure.”
“Same thing for me. It’s better to go and get it over with rather than try to avoid it.”
“I still think you should take some backup,” said Byron. “Call Agent Ellington.”
“She’s a government agent. Not a personal valet. I can’t call her every time some little annoyance pops up.”
“What about Tia?”
“She has a job. Trust me, I know how to handle this. It’s not my first rodeo.”
He shrugged. “You know your business.”
“I’ll text if anything goes wrong. Promise. By the way, isn’t Wednesday your day to pick up the donuts for work?”
“Damn it.” He fumbled with his tie. “I’m going to be late. You do not want to be late with the donuts. Welker will spend half the day whining about it.”
Connie sat up and waved him over. She helped him with his tie and handed him his briefcase. She kissed him. “Go get ’em, tiger. Those debits aren’t going to credit themselves.”
“That’s not how it works,” he said.
“Accounting is one of the few things I know nothing about,” she replied. “Now, don’t you have donuts to pick up?”
He gave her a peck. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
He rushed out the door, and she took a moment to enjoy the domesticity.
• • •
A pair of intimidating goons in matching black suits guarded the manor. The guards barely acknowledged her, but the security camera over the door swiveled in her direction. The doors swung open automatically.
Connie made a show of glancing at her wrist. She didn’t wear a watch, and she didn’t have any pressing engagements. But it’d hopefully remind whoever was watching that she had better things to do with her time.
“One question: this isn’t one of those fiendish-death-trap manors?” she asked a guard.
“No,” he said, though he hesitated and didn’t sound convincing.
She could either turn around or plunge headlong into unknown dangers. Her life tended to go askew when she refused adventure, and she could usually beat death-trap manors in a few hours. Better to get it over with, she decided.
She stepped across the threshold, and the doors closed behind her with an ominous click. She inspected the marble floors for telltale signs of trapdoors or land mines. The place was mostly empty, but a shiny lion statue in the center of the room might be a robot. And the sconces might conceal flamethrowers or machine guns.
A tall, serious man in a butler’s uniform stood at the top of the stairs. “This way, ma’am.”
Connie climbed the stairs. She spotted the hidden gears that could turn the stairs into a slide with a flip of a switch, leading to a pit of whirring blades or something equally inconvenient, but she reached the top. The butler was a foot taller than Connie, and his well-tailored uniform did nothing to hide his muscular frame. He moved with the self-assurance of a rhino.
They walked down a long hallway. The butler’s polished shoes clicked against the tile, echoing off the walls. Busts of scholars, artists, captains of industry, and a dictator or two lined both sides. They might shoot lasers or poison darts out of their mouths, but nothing triggered.
They entered a windowless, undecorated room. A monitor was bolted to the wall. The butler gestured toward a plush leather recliner that could conceal retractable manacles. “Please, have a seat, Ms. Verity.”
“I’ll stand. Thanks.”
“As you wish.”
“So, we’re not going to fight?” asked Connie.
He smiled slightly as if amused by something unspecific. Maybe an old joke that had popped unbidden into his head. “Not unless you want to.”
“No, I’m good.”
The monitor switched on and the image of a man from the neck down appeared. He wore a polo shirt. There was a single golden ring on his finger with a familiar insignia of a sword atop a pyramid. Connie recognized it but couldn’t place the exact organization. After a few decades, all the secret societies and hidden conspiracies blended together.
The man spoke, and his voice was tinny and digitized. “Hello, Connie. Great to see you again. Can I get you something? Maybe a drink or a scone?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there in person,” said the man, “but I had pressing matters here.” A pair of hands appeared and set some papers before him. He quickly signed them and handed them back.
“Join the club,” she said.
“Right. I’m just glad you could find the time. I know how crazy your schedule gets.”
“Siege Perilous,” interrupted Connie, placing the ring’s insignia. “Larry Peril, is that you?”
“Yes, of course it’s me.” Peril pressed his hands together. “Oh, for the love of . . . Georgia, where did you learn to operate a camera?”
Someone chattered lightly off-camera.
“It’s not that hard. Look through that end and make sure it’s pointed— Wait. Is the voice thing on too? Oh, hell, why did you do that?” Larry Peril bent down into frame, tilting his head sideways. “Give me a second, Connie.”
She sat in the recliner. “I’ll take that scone now.”
The butler nodded and walked away.
“And some earl grey if you got it,” she called before he left the room.
The audio became static as he removed the microphone pinned to his shirt and set it down on the desk, and moved out of camera. Little snippets of audio were audible.
“No, you look through this here,” said Larry. “Well, if I’d known you were going to have this
much trouble, I would’ve hired someone from the union.”
The camera raised. He took his seat back at the desk, reattached the mic. It’d been at least fifteen years since she’d seen Larry Peril. He had his mother’s piercing black eyes. He smiled. As a kid, he’d had a sweet smile, and he’d never lost it.
“Well, damn.” He sighed. “Turn off the voice thing already, Georgia.” His digital voice snapped to his normal tone. “Thank you. Much better. This must appear all very sinister to you.”
“You mean the mysterious calls in the middle of the night, the death mansion, the henchagents? No, it doesn’t look good.”
“Wait. They called you in the middle of the night? Why would they do that?”
Georgia mumbled off-camera.
“Yes, I said it was urgent, but have some decorum. I knew I should’ve made the call myself. And I specifically said not to use the death mansion.”
Georgia mumbled something.
“What about the bungalow?” he said.
Mumble mumble.
“How long does it take to decommission a mutant piranha tank, anyway?”
Mumble mumble.
“Whose idea was it to make them flying if we don’t have a way of ensuring they stay in the water?”
Mumble mumble.
“No, do it right. If those things get out and start breeding, it’ll defeat the whole purpose. I know you’re doing your best, but it’s frustrating sometimes.”
He turned his attention back to Connie. “Sorry. There’s just a certain way people are used to doing things around here. I should’ve done this personally, but I’m fairly overwhelmed. I don’t know how Mom did it.”
“How is your mother? I’d heard Lady Peril had died trying to activate the ancient doomsday device in the Great Pyramids.”
“She did. At least, as far as anyone can tell. Who knows for sure? But if she isn’t dead, she’s faking it more than usual. I inherited the controlling interest in Siege Perilous. You’re looking at the Mastermind Interim.”
“I didn’t think you had any interest in the family business.”
“I don’t, but I figured if I didn’t do it, somebody else would. I’ve been trying to change things around here, but it’s an uphill battle.”
“So, you’re not evil?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You wouldn’t be the first mastermind’s kid to take up his parent’s mantle after their death.”
His smile dropped. “Maybe it sounds terrible, but I’m not upset by her death. I stopped going to funerals when I was twelve.”
Connie said, “Sorry. That was out of line.”
“No, it wasn’t. I know I was always a disappointment to Mom. I was never what she wanted in a son. Remember when I wore that stupid cape, just to please her?”
“I remember, Lord Peril,” she recalled with a chuckle before catching herself.
He covered his face and laughed. She joined him, and they laughed for a good thirty seconds.
He wiped his eyes. “Goddamn. Stupid kids, right?”
Larry said, “Jeez, Connie, I missed you. You’re looking really great, by the way. Adventuring must agree with you.”
“Thanks,” she said. The butler returned with her scone and tea on a platter. She helped herself, blowing on the tea.
“So what’s this all about?” she asked Larry. “I don’t think you went to all this trouble just for a reunion.”
“You’re right.” He leaned forward and smiled. “I need you to help save the world.”
She sipped her tea. “I’m listening.”
10
It wasn’t the first hydra Connie had fought. Or the largest. But it was certainly the most stubborn. It just kept coming, no matter how many of its heads she cut off. Sticky, acidic blood splattered across her face and shirt as she decapitated a fourth. It stung her cheek and burned holes in her clothes.
The stump bubbled as a new pair started to grow.
“I’m on it,” said Tia as she stabbed the road flare into the monster’s regenerating wound. Its other head squealed as its rage grew.
The last hydra head struck out at Tia, but Connie deflected the venomous strike with an old, rusted shield she’d found lying around on the temple floor. She stabbed the creature through its throat, and it hissed and wheezed as it flopped around on the dusty stone floors.
Connie took an ancient battle axe from the skeletal hands of a long-dead Viking who had been unfortunate enough to stumble onto the hydra’s lair several hundred years before. She pinned the monster’s head with her foot and finished it off. It took several strokes from the dull blade. More blood splattered on her hands and arms. Tia took shelter behind Connie to avoid the splash zone, though she rushed forward to sear shut the final wound.
Connie sat on the floor, leaned against a crumbling column, and caught her breath.
Tia offered Connie a towel. “You’ve got a little something there. On your cheek. And chin. And a little under your eye. And in your hair.” Tia made a sweeping gesture at Connie’s body. “Well, you get the idea.”
“Thanks.” Connie wiped the warm blood from her cheeks as the headless hydra squirmed limply.
“How long will it take to die?” asked Tia.
“It won’t. Not unless we kill it. The fire slows the process, but it’ll still regenerate, given enough time. We’ll be gone by then.” Connie rifled through her backpack. “Shit, I can’t find it.”
“I got it.” Tia produced the steel box from her own backpack. “Noticed you dropped it when we were running from that tiger, though what the hell is a wild tiger doing in Africa?”
“The mysteries of a life of adventure.” Connie took the box and opened it. The yellow flower inside didn’t look like much, but she’d once saved the universe with a handful of change in her pockets, so she didn’t judge by appearance. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t mention it.” Tia sat beside Connie on the stone stairs. “Just part of the sidekick service.”
The air around the ancient altar crackled with mystical forces as the planar alignment approached. The earth rumbled as alien evils slumbering in a realm outside of time and space stirred. The opening in the ceiling showed a sky full of holes into other worlds, other times. Most were harmless. Alternate realities and nameless dimensions. But in some of those dimensions, things waited. Unknowable things that ate universes with casual indifference as they passed through to other dimensions.
The hundred eyes on the dozen statues surrounding the altar glowed red.
“Almost time,” said Connie.
They waited for the proper moment, watching reality itself ripple, dissolve, and reform like a broken television trying to tune to every station at once.
“Have you decided to take Larry up on his job offer yet?” asked Tia.
“It’s a favor, not a job. And I think so. Siege Perilous’s rating among secret societies was hovering around an eight last time I checked the Global Peril Index.”
“Who the heck is in charge of making that list?”
“They have computers or something that do it,” said Connie. “Or they used to. I think the computer went rogue and tried to use satellites to make killer tornadoes. The only reason it failed was because the computer rated itself a nine. Now it’s a bunch of number crunchers somewhere. I’ve been there once. It’s a nice building. Great cafeteria. They tried explaining all the informational matrices and statistical sifting, but I stopped paying attention after a while. Regardless of how it works, their accuracy is solid. They predicted Ragnarok a week before anyone else suspected a thing. So, if they give Siege Perilous an eight, I have to take it seriously.”
“But Larry’s in charge now. Shouldn’t that defuse the situation?”
Connie shook her head. “Doesn’t work like that. When someone puts together a massive secret operation bent on acquiring wealth and power through any means necessary, that organization doesn’t just dissolve because the leader disappears. It’s only a mat
ter of time before Larry’s deposed or . . .”
“Or?”
Connie leaned in and whispered. Not because she was worried about anyone overhearing, but because she felt bad about what she was about to say.
“Or Larry becomes a mastermind himself.”
Tia laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Connie shrugged.
“This is Larry we’re talking about,” said Tia. “He’s never been very good at megalomania.”
“True, but he is his mother’s son, and he does have a sinister worldwide secret society at his bidding.”
“Yes, but . . . it’s Larry.”
“It’s Larry,” said Connie noncommittally.
“Larry can’t be evil,” said Tia.
“Wouldn’t be the first to be corrupted by all that power,” said Connie. “I’m not saying he’d be great as a mastermind, but a lot of these so-called masterminds aren’t all that capable or bright. The Scorpion Society is run by a brain in a jar with the exact level of intelligence you would expect from a brain in a jar, but that didn’t stop it from nearly launching Chicago into the sun.”
“Wait. When did that happen?”
“Nine or ten months ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me? My Mom lives in Chicago.”
“I didn’t know about it until after the fact. Had nothing to do with it. I foil a lot of evil schemes, but it’s a small percentage overall. The government kept a lockdown on public knowledge. They usually do.”
Tia frowned. As Connie’s friend, she knew about the many hidden dangers lurking around the world. It had bothered her for years until she’d accepted that people were on the job, keeping such impossible threats under control. Honestly, she’d never quite accepted it so much as resigned herself to the fact.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” asked Connie. “You think it’s a bad idea,” she added before Tia could reply.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. I know you. I know that face. That’s your bad-idea face.”
“No, it’s my undecided face. This sort of thing is out of your wheelhouse, isn’t it? I get that you’re always foiling evil schemes, but this doesn’t seem very foil-y.” Tia tapped her finger against her chin, searching for a better word. “Foil-ish? Foil-ic?”
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 7