by John McCrae
“I’m sorry,” Amy said, “So sorry I didn’t help you sooner, that-”
Mark stopped her with a raised hand. “Thank you.”
She didn’t deserve thanks.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
She looked away. Tears were welling out. “No.”
“Listen. Sit yourself down. I’m going to call your mother and sister, make sure they’re all right after dealing with Hellhound, let them know what happened. Then I’ll call the Protectorate. Maybe they can help guard us, in case Bonesaw comes after you again.”
“She will. But I- I can’t sit. I’m going to my room. I’ll pack so we leave sooner.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“Shout if anything happens.”
She nodded and turned to go, picking her way through the destroyed hallway. The floorboards that looked like a giant-sized version of pick-up-sticks. She was only halfway when she heard Mark on the phone.
“Carol? It’s me.”
Her face burned with shame. She made her way to her room and began packing her things into a gym bag. Clothes, toiletries, and other things, mementos. A small scrapbook, a memory card filled with pictures of her, her cousins and her sister. She found a pad of post-it notes and scribbled out a few words.
I’m sorry it took me so long to help Mark.
Good bye. I love you all,
Amy.
She wouldn’t be coming back.
Amy opened her bedroom window and climbed out, pulling the bag out behind her.
It would be better this way. Maybe, after weeks or months, she could stop worrying, stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to fall apart in the worst way. She’d already had to face finding out about Marquis. She’d taken a life. She’d broken one of her cardinal rules. She wasn’t sure she could take any more.
She just had to get away.
■
Amy cursed the curfew as she saw the figure in the air above her. When people weren’t allowed out on the streets after dark, it made those few who did venture out that much more visible. Not what she’d wanted, not when she was trying to avoid this exact conversation.
It was even more problematic when she walked at maybe three or four miles an hour, limited to following the paths the roads and alleys allowed her, when her sister could fly at fifty miles an hour. She should have hid, instead of trying to make some distance.
Victoria stopped midflight and hovered in the air, five feet above the ground and five or six paces in front of her.
“I was just at the house. I don’t even know what to say,” Victoria spoke.
“Pretty self-explanatory. One of the Nine came, house got trashed, I healed Mark.”
“Why? Why heal dad now, when you couldn’t before?”
“I only did it because I had to.”
“That’s what I don’t get. Why couldn’t you? You’ve never explained.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“So that’s it? No explanations? You just up and leave?” Victoria asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Amy looked away.
“We could get you a therapist. I mean, Mom was setting aside money for Dad’s care, we could use that to give you someone to talk to.”
“I… a therapist wouldn’t be able to help.”
“Geez, what’s going on? Amy, we’ve been together for a decade. I’ve stood by you. I’d like to think we were best friends, not just sisters. And you can’t tell me?”
“I can’t. Just let me leave. Trust me when I say it’s better.”
“Fuck that! I’m not about to let you walk away!” Victoria floated closer, reaching out.
“Don’t touch me,” Amy warned her sister.
Looking lost, Victoria stopped and spread her arms. “Who are you, Amy? I don’t even recognize this person I’m looking at. You go berserk at the bank robbery over some secret I’ve totally not gotten on your case about. You apparently say something to Skitter that causes this huge commotion in the hospital after the Endbringer attack. You… I don’t even know what to say about your reaction to Gallant’s death, the way you distanced yourself from me at a time when I was hurting the most.”
Amy looked down at her feet.
“And most of all, you just leave dad to suffer, when you could have healed him? You lash out at me, here, when I’m trying to mend fences and be your sister?”
“You want to know who I am?” Amy asked. Her voice sounded hollow. ”I’m Marquis’s daughter. Daughter of a supervillain.”
“Marquis?”
Amy nodded.
“How did you find out?”
“Carol left some paper out. I think it’s under my pillow, if you want to look for it.”
“You have his genes, but you’re Carol and Mark’s daughter,” Victoria replied, her voice firm. “And they’re going to be worried. Come home.”
“They don’t care. They don’t love me, not really. Trust me, this is better for everyone.”
“I love you,” Victoria said, stressing the ‘I’. She dropped to the ground and stepped closer.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Idiot,” Victoria grabbed her sister by the shirt collar and pulled her into a painfully tight hug.
“Don’t,” Amy moaned into her sister’s shoulder.
“All of this? We’ll work it out. As a family. And if your idea of family means it’s just you and me, then we’ll work it out together, just the two of us.”
All it took was one moment of weakness, and she was weak. At the end of her rope, desperately lonely, haunted by her father’s shadow, her shame at being unwilling and unable to help Mark until now, the idea that one of the Slaughterhouse Nine thought she belonged with them?
She was losing everything so quickly. Victoria was all she had, and it was the choice between abandoning that for everyone’s good and keeping Victoria close.
She felt Victoria’s body more acutely than she felt her own. Every heartbeat, every cell brimming with life.
Like a flame at the end of a long fuse, leading to a stick of dynamite, her power traveled from the side of Victoria’s neck to her brain. It was barely a conscious action on Amy’s part.
Victoria let go of her, pushed her away. “What did you just do?”
Amy could see the revulsion slowly spreading across Victoria’s face.
The magnitude of what she’d just done hit her with a suddenness and pain she likened to a bullet to the chest. “Oh god. Please, let me undo it.”
She reached out, but Victoria stepped back.
“What the hell did you do?” Victoria asked, her eyes wide, “I felt something. I feel something. You’ve used your power on me before, but not like this. I- You changed the way I think. More than that.”
Tears welled at the corners of Amy’s eyes. “Please. This is what I was afraid of. Let me undo it. Let me fix it and leave, and you can go back to Mark and Carol and you three can be a family, and-”
“What did you do!?”
“I’m sorry. I… knew this would happen. I was okay so long as I kept following my own rules, didn’t open that door. Bonesaw forced me to open it.”
“Amy!”
“You have to understand, for so long, you were all I had. I was so desperately lonely, and that was at the same time I was starting to worry about my dad. I got fucked up, my feelings got muddled somewhere along the line, and it’s like… maybe because you were safe, because you were always there.”
“You have feelings for me,” Victoria answered. She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, she didn’t even try. “That’s what Tattletale was using as leverage, wasn’t it?”
Amy couldn’t meet Victoria’s eyes. She looked at her hands, appalled at what she had just done.
“And Gallant? I was thinking you secretly liked him, but-”
Amy shook her head. “I hated him. I felt jealous because he had you and I never could… but I never acted on those feelin
gs. I never acted on any of my feelings, until just now, and all I want to do is to take that back.”
“When I was at the lowest point in my life, when the boy I thought I might marry someday was dead, were you secretly elated? Were you happy Gallant died?”
“No! Vic- Victoria, I love you. I wanted you to be happy with him. I just… it hurt at the same time.”
“Oh my god,” Victoria whispered, the revulsion giving way to something worse. Realization.
“I- I tried to keep things normal between us. To act like your sister, keep it all bottled in. It’s just tonight was such a nightmare, and I’m so scared, and so tired, and so desperate. Bonesaw forced me to ignore all the rules I was imposing on myself. All the rules I was using and following so I wouldn’t do anything stupid or impulsive.”
“Anything stupid. Like what? What did you do?”
Amy’s voice was a croak as she replied, “…make it so you would reciprocate my feelings.”
She chanced a look at Victoria’s face, and she knew that the horror she saw in her sister’s expression didn’t even compare to what she felt.
“Please. Let me fix it. Then I’ll leave. You’ll never have to see me again.”
“What in the world makes you think I’d let you use your power on me again!?” Victoria shouted, taking to the air, out of reach. “Who knows what you’re going to do to me!?”
“Please?” Amy begged.
“I can find someone else to fix it. Or maybe, at the very least, I can show some fucking self-control and realize it’s my sister I’m having those feelings about.”
“You can’t. I- Oh fuck. You’re underestimating what I did. Please. If you never ever give me anything else, if you never talk to me or look at me again, just let me fix this.”
Victoria shook her head slowly, then scoffed. “Good job, Amy. You just did an excellent job of taking every instance of me defending you, every instance of my giving you the benefit of a doubt, and proving me fucking wrong. You were worried about being as fucked up as your dad? Congratulations, I’m pretty goddamn sure you just surpassed the man.”
With that said, Victoria was gone, flying into the distance.
Amy sank to her knees on the flooded street.
Arc 12: Plague
12.01
The first beetle gripped the corner of the paper in his mandibles and slowly pulled it back. Two more moved to the edges of the folds and held them firm. The fourth and largest of the four beetles ran its head left and right along the paper until it was firmly creased. Each of the four changed positions and repeated the steps at a different point.
“That’s really creepy to watch,” Charlotte said, from where she sat at the kitchen table.
I looked up from the laptop I was using to view a webpage on origami. ”Is it? I’m pretty used to them, so I don’t give it a lot of thought.”
“They’re so organized and human. Bugs shouldn’t act that way.”
“I don’t really believe in thinking that way anymore,” I said, absently.
“What way?”
I had to stop to compose my thoughts. I glanced at Charlotte, and Sierra, who was standing by the fridge, silently eating her breakfast. ”I don’t believe in shouldn’t, like there’s some universal rules about the way things should be, the way people should act.”
“So there’s no right or wrong? People and animals should do whatever?”
“No, there’s always going to be consequences. Believe me when I say I know about that. But I do think there’s always going to be extenuating circumstances, where a lot of things we normally assume are wrong become excusable.”
“Like rape? Are you going to tell me there’s a situation where rape is okay?” Charlotte asked. I would have thought I’d touched on a hot subject if her voice wasn’t so level.
I shook my head. ”No. I know some things are never excusable.”
“Right.”
“But as far as bugs are concerned, at least, I figure anything goes.”
“It’s still creepy.”
“Give it time. You’ll get used to it.” I picked up the tightly folded piece of paper that was the end result of my little experiment. I pushed at two corners of the tight paper square, and it settled into a cube about three-quarters of an inch on each side, with holes on two opposing faces.
I directed a housefly into one hole and settled it inside, then fed a braided length of twine through the holes. I handed the result to Charlotte and ordered the bugs to start making another.
“A necklace?” Sierra asked. She put her plate down in the sink and ran water over it.
“Or bracelet, or a key chain. So long as you have this, I’ll know where you are, because I can keep an eye out for the fly in a box. The real purpose of this, though, is when there’s an emergency. You can crush the box and the bug inside, and the moment that happens, I”ll use my power to protect you. It won’t be instantaneous, but you’ll have a swarm descending on whoever is giving you trouble in anywhere from fifteen seconds to a minute. If it works out, I can make something a little more stylish for the future.”
There were nods from both of them.
“I can’t protect you from a bullet or a knife wound, but I can screen the people in your vicinity, feeling them out to see if they have weapons on them and give you a heads up so you don’t get in that situation to begin with. If there’s potential trouble like that, I’ll warn you by drawing this symbol with my bugs…”
I drew three lines that crossed in the center, using the flies and beetles that were working on a cube for Sierra.
“Okay,” Charlotte said. Sierra nodded.
I got the bugs working on the second cube again. ”I’ll use numbers to inform you on the number of people nearby. You’ll want to approach a situation differently if there’s twenty people than if there’s five. Maybe have one of you hang back and be in a position to crush the cube, or just keeping your distance. Or just avoid the situation. Trust your gut, use your best judgement.”
“What exactly are we doing?”
“For now, just door to door. I’m going to mark the places you should visit, where there are families or groups of people. I need the info I can’t get with my bugs. Who are the people in my territory? What do they need: Maybe medical care, clothes, more food, maybe someone’s giving them trouble? You find out, take notes, then pass that information to me.”
“That’s it?”
“For now. I’m going to ask you guys to travel as a pair, obviously. You’ll be safer and there’s a better chance you’ll be able to signal me with the necklace if something goes wrong. Not that you should need the cube, but I prefer having some redundancy.”
The pair nodded. Sierra bent over to pull on the rain boots I’d provided her. Charlotte was already wearing hers.
“That’s the general plan. We’ll work out other tasks and maybe other signals later, in case you need my attention but not for an emergency, or if you want to cancel a request for help, whatever. That leaves payment.”
“I was wondering about that,” Charlotte said. ”But didn’t know how to ask.”
“We’ll try for six to eight hours a day, five days a week, but consider it flexible. Not to spook you or anything, but I’ll know if you’re slacking. I’m thinking two hundred and fifty dollars a day, and obviously it’s under the table, so you’re not getting taxed on it.”
“That’s a little more generous than I was expecting,” Sierra said.
I didn’t like Coil, pretty much despised his methods, but I did agree with his sensibilities on some things, like personnel and making sure people wanted to work for you. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it. I had yet to spend the earnings from any of my earlier villainous stints, since Coil was providing everything major I needed.
“There’s another reason I’m putting you guys out there. Two people aren’t going to be enough for what I’m planning long-term. I want you two to trust your guts on this, but you’re also going to be keeping an eye out fo
r possible recruits.”
“You’re hiring others?” Charlotte asked.
I nodded. ”I’m looking for people who are young, reasonably fit, and able to follow orders. With you two out there, I’m hoping others see a pair of girls who are secure, happy and healthy in my employ. You recruit someone I decide is worth keeping? I’ll reward you. But this isn’t a competition, got it?”
Both girls nodded their heads.
“If you don’t have any questions-”
“I do,” Charlotte piped up. ”Do you have a mask I could wear?”
I frowned. ”I was hoping you guys would put a more human, less sinister face on things.”
“I don’t want to run into someone I know and have to explain. Not that I think anyone I know lives around here, but-”
“Okay, no, I wouldn’t expect you guys to go unmasked when I won’t. That wouldn’t be fair. Give me a few seconds,” I told them. I headed upstairs to my office.
Over the past few days, I’d received deliveries of the more specific and obscure items I had requested from Coil. Among them were cases of more exotic bugs, a sturdy work table I kept upstairs in my room and five mannequins with custom measurements.
Coil’s people had taken the time with Brian, Lisa, Alec and Aisha to get comprehensive measurements and hand casts. Bitch had refused. This had led in turn to the creation of the mannequins, which had been shipped to me and set up on the pedestals beneath the shuttered window. One mannequin for each of my teammates and one for me. There was also a little folder of notes from each of the others on what they wanted, including some photos, clippings and print-outs for reference. Grue had included pictures of the little statuette he had bought at the Market, which he wanted me to copy for his new mask. I hoped to have a costume for each of us in short order.
I’d already finished a few draft attempts at designing Lisa’s mask, since it didn’t require much cloth and the nuances of it were tricky. The way her old mask fit her, it hid her freckles and eyebrows and changed the apparent angles of her eyes and cheekbones so her entire face had a different look to it. Emulating that was hard, since the texture of the silk compared to the material of her mask didn’t let me copy it over exactly. I’d used the scrapped attempts to test different dyes and how they reacted with the fabric. I grabbed the failed masks, pressing each against a white piece of paper to ensure they weren’t going to stain skin, and then headed back downstairs.