by Gini Koch
“Is anything in here familiar?” Aunt Carla asked.
“Well, sure. The bathroom is a lot like one at The Hotel when I was there right before I got married. To Jeff Martini. Not to Chuckie. Sorry, Charles.”
“You’ve told me you only call him Chuckie in bed now,” Caroline said. “Because it didn’t sound adult enough and he was a successful businessman and deserved respect.”
“Yeah, he said the same. I call him Chuckie all the time where I’m from.”
“Or else you still want to call him Chuckie and don’t because you feel pressured, and so in your fantasy, you call him the name you prefer,” Aunt Carla suggested.
“Maybe. I think I just want to get cleaned up. Do I wear jeans, concert T-shirts, and Converse here?”
They both nodded. “When you’re relaxing,” Caroline said.
“Great. Then I’ll change into that. I think I’m okay to shower alone, but I promise to call if I need you guys.”
Aunt Carla shook her head. “We’ve both seen everything you own. Leave the bathroom door open. Just in case.”
Chose not to argue about this compromise. Got out of these clothes and into the shower. It was a great bathroom and I felt physically better after showering using the highest-class hair and personal care products I’d ever seen. Contemplated using hyperspeed for it, but decided that it would be better to wait, in part because I needed to relax a little.
Shower done, I dried off with the fluffiest towels in existence. If this was really the life I was “trying to escape,” I had to ask myself why anyone would think I’d want to.
Contemplated things Chuckie had said to me before I got married. He’d mentioned that he’d have found a smooth, casual way to get me used to living a wealthy lifestyle. Clearly, he’d managed well. Though nothing was overdone—unostentatious was still Chuckie’s watchword and apparently it was this family’s as well.
Combed my hair back into a ponytail and trotted out. They’d laid clothes out for me and I stared. The underwear, jeans, and Converse were not an issue, nor was the Aerosmith hoodie. It was the T-shirt they’d picked that had me confused.
“Why the hell would I wear, let alone own, a Jack Johnson T-shirt?”
Both women stared at me as I started to get dressed. “Ah, because he’s a personal friend?” Caroline asked. “You guys went to a concert a few years ago, went backstage, bonded. You never miss him when he’s on tour. The kids know him. He’s their favorite.”
This did not compute. “Jack Johnson? He of the slow and boring?”
“You all think he’s cool.” Caroline sounded ready to cry. “He’s the nicest guy—he’s your friend, Kitty. I count him as my friend because of you. How can you be insulting his music all of a sudden?”
Wow. Not only was everything else messed up, I suddenly liked a musical artist I found to be stultifyingly dull. It was like I was in Bizarro World.
I froze, my jeans halfway on. “Oh. Wow. That’s it.”
“What’s it?” Aunt Carla asked.
Didn’t answer and finished getting dressed instead, though I took the Jack Johnson shirt back into the ginormous walk-in closet and hung it back up in the rock T-shirts section. Chose a Mötley Crüe shirt—had a feeling I was going to need double rocking support today.
Put on the hoodie and looked around for my purse. Remembered that it wasn’t my purse and it was downstairs somewhere. Maybe still in the car. Couldn’t recall. Decided not to care, since the likelihood that it contained a Glock was slim. Still, one never knew.
“Where do I keep my Glock?”
“In your purse,” Caroline answered. “Though I don’t know that you’ve ever fired it except at the shooting range.”
Interesting. Apparently the wealthy had some serious security issues. Then again, I’d been run off the road with clear intent to kill, so those concerns seemed less like paranoia and more like brilliant planning. And, hey, I had a Glock. Chose to look at this as really good news.
Also chose to look out the bedroom window. In time to see a dark sedan with an impressive pushbar in front and blacked out windows driving slowly up the street.
“Um, Caro? Aunt Carla? Tell me . . . do we happen to have a safe room in this house?”
CHAPTER 17
“YES,” Aunt Carla answered promptly. “Angela insisted that you have a safe room here and in Australia.”
More proof Mom had been in covert and clandestine ops before she was killed. Murdered, more likely. Felt rage growing. Good. I was going to need it.
“Super. Where, exactly, is the safe room? And how many can it hold?”
“Downstairs, at the back of the house,” Caroline replied. “And it can hold at least twenty people. It’s stocked to support those people for at least a week. And it also has full medical supplies.”
“And weapons,” Aunt Carla added. “Because, if you’re in a safe room . . .”
“Yeah, you’re not there for the thrill of playing hide and seek. But this is great news. By the way, the nausea will pass.”
“Huh?” Caroline said, as I grabbed her and Aunt Carla. Contemplated grabbing Jamie, but I only had two hands and no idea if either woman would follow orders from me, ever, let alone right now. I’d come back for Jamie—those downstairs would be the first targets. Besides, I had to find the room anyway.
Took off at hyperspeed. Zoomed downstairs and ran around for a second or two, then realized I had no idea where the room was and safe rooms were supposed to be disguised, so I had no chance of guessing where it was with the limited time I had. Stopped in front of Chuckie and Reader. They both jumped as if we’d appeared out of nowhere, which, considering how hyperspeed worked, we had.
“The safe room! We need everyone in it—right now! Don’t question, just go!” I shoved Aunt Carla and Caroline at them, then ran back upstairs. Grabbed Jamie, realized I hadn’t seen the boys downstairs, and went to their room. Sure enough, they were in there.
Grabbed Max and threw him on my back, while I took Charlie’s hand in my free one. “It’s just like in Rock Creek, kids. Hang on, no strangling me, Max. Charlie, lead me to the safe room. You steer, I’ll handle the speed.”
Had to hand it to these kids—they didn’t question. Max held on, Charlie nodded, Jamie squeezed my hand, and we took off. Charlie led me to the room the adults were thankfully heading for. We got there first, but the others were right behind us. Naturally there was a combination. Stopped and put the kids down. The running had been short, so while the kids and women were gagging, no one was tossing their cookies.
Ran back to find Chuckie starting to head upstairs, to grab the kids no doubt. Grabbed him and ran him back to the room. “Get it open,” I told him, “get everyone in, then get your guns. We’re about to be attacked.”
He opened his mouth, and I put my hand up. “I did all this at something called hyperspeed. I’ll explain it later. Just get in the damn room. If I’m crazy, super, it’s a fun family excursion right before Mommy goes to the Special Hospital for a Little Vacation. If, however, I’m not—and I guarantee that James can tell you that I wasn’t making it up about those freaking machine guns—then the assassins are on our street. Move it!”
Spun around and ran back to the living room. Sure enough, the purse was on the sofa. I dumped it out and, joy and rapture, a Glock.23 dropped out. Grabbed it and ran back to the safe room. Chuckie had just gotten it opened. Hyperspeed was a great thing.
Contemplated the options. Sure, they weren’t the Reader and Chuckie I knew, but they were still clearly Reader and Chuckie. Meaning some things would be the same, including who was likely to be the most adaptable and shift into teaming with me the fastest. Plus, I had the children to consider.
Grabbed Reader and shoved Chuckie inside. “Take care of everyone and if I sound totally scared, sweet, or clueless, or James doesn’t give you the right password or whatever you t
wo use, then assume we’re hostages and come out with guns blazing. Otherwise, we’ll let you know when it’s over.”
With that, I slammed the door. Sure enough, it locked.
Took Reader’s hand and ran upstairs, to the same window where I’d spotted the car in the first place. It was just parking across the street. Hyperspeed remained the best superpower ever.
“See that car?” I asked as he gagged. “That’s the car that drove us off the road. And it was filled with assassins with machine guns. I have one Glock and, as far as I saw, a single clip. I have no idea what firepower you and Chuckie possess. But I have something else that I’m now convinced this world does not have.”
“Kitty, I realize something’s off, and I can agree that this looks highly suspicious, but—”
“Bizarro World.”
“Wait, what?”
“Bizarro World. I’ve switched places with the Kitty in this universe. Should we survive this attack, I’ll tell you all about it, at least, what I can remember. However, survival is not a given. But, what these assassins don’t know, or know how to counter, is the fact that I have hyperspeed, increased strength, and superfast healing.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m Wolverine with Boobs, James. In the world I come from. Because, I think I may have mentioned, I’m married to an alien and there was mother-and-child feedback and all that jazz I’m living to tell you later. You need to back me up. I’m going to take these bastards out before they kill anyone, especially anyone in this house. By the way, should I kill them or incapacitate them? If given the option, I mean?”
He stared at me. “Incapacitate,” he said, sounding shaken. “But if you have to kill them, we can take care of it. You’re really not our Kitty, are you?”
“No. Welcome to the New Reality. I’m really hoping that your Kitty and I don’t have to die in our respective Bizarro Worlds in order to get home, but the way my luck runs, I don’t count on it. Where do you want to be—up here or downstairs?” I had my guess, but it never paid to assume.
“Here. Our weapons are stored in my room.”
“I knew it!” I went to take off the safety off on my gun—sometimes I was prepared. Only . . . “What the hell? Is this gun defective?”
“No, why?”
“Where the hell is the safety?”
He stared at me. “Glocks don’t have safeties. Well, not external safeties. It’s one of their best features.”
“The hell they don’t. Dude, I’ve used Glocks for the past, like, five years, and every one of them has had a safety.”
“Well, girlfriend, in this universe, Glocks don’t have safeties.”
“Wow. No safeties on the Glocks and no aliens. Can’t wait to find out what else you’re lacking.”
Reader managed to shoot me the cover boy smile. “Let’s survive this attack and then we can compare universal notes.”
“Works for me.” With that, I took off.
Hyperspeed was such that it couldn’t be caught on video or film, so the human eye didn’t stand a chance. I normally needed to be enraged in order to get my skills working well, but not only had Christopher and I been working on this for ages, but I’d been on edge all day and thinking about my mother being dead had started my anger revving already. It was nothing to flip over to rage—I’d been holding that emotion back for hours.
Didn’t have time to find out how many entry doors this place had—I needed to ensure that the assassins weren’t able to set up or surround us. Zipped out the front door so fast I was pretty darned sure no one could have spotted it. No one started shooting, so I took that to mean I was going so fast I couldn’t be seen by anyone other than an A-C, and apparently they were in extremely short supply here.
Of course, if there were no A-Cs, and therefore no A-C technology, and my Glock was different, that meant that other things were potentially different as well. However, as with most of the events of the past few years, I was going to have to find out what was going on and adapt on the go.
So, you know, routine.
CHAPTER 18
“AIR . . . KITTY . . . NEED AIR,” Mom said.
I released my hold a little but didn’t stop hugging her. “Sorry, Mom. I just . . .” Couldn’t stop crying. Decided to blame hitting my head and changing universes or whatever. Saw Martini out of the corner of my eye—he looked freaked out and upset.
Mom hugged me back. “What’s going on, kitten?” she asked me softly. “Whatever you did with the Prime Minister can be fixed, I promise.”
Crawford cleared his throat. “Ah, Angela? It’s all a long story, but the fastest explanation is this—this isn’t ‘your’ Kitty. She’s from an alternate universe and has, as far as we can guess, changed places with the Kitty we know and love. Not that we won’t learn to love this one, I’m sure,” he added quickly.
Mom grabbed my upper arms and moved me back so she could examine me. Just the way she’d acted any time I didn’t want to tell her about something bad that had happened when I was younger.
She nodded. “Looks like Kitty, but with a much better dye job than you usually manage for yourself.”
“It’s highlights, Mom. And I didn’t start doing this until . . .” My throat closed up and wouldn’t let me say the next words.
Her expression softened. “Ah. I’m dead in your world, aren’t I?”
Felt the entire room stiffen. Looked at Martini again—he’d already known, I could tell. His whole empath thing must have clued him in the moment I saw Mom. Felt bad for him—if what he’d said was true, then my emotions were undoubtedly affecting him and, from how he looked, they were affecting him negatively.
I nodded. “For the past two and a half years.” Forced myself to pull it together. “So, I have no idea what’s going on here, but from the number of people in suits in this room, it’s a lot.”
“Yes, it is.” Mom removed herself from my grasp, spun around, and went to the door. “Secret Service are to remain on duty outside. That’s an order.” Then she shut the door and came back to me.
“Uh, why are you giving the Secret Service orders, Mom? In fact, why are they even here?”
“I’m the head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit, or the P.T.C.U. It’s clandestine, and all forms of covert and clandestine ops report into us, some directly, some dotted line. And I take it by your expression that you had no idea I did this kind of work until right now.”
“Right. Uh, do you think you did it in my world?”
“Am I married to your father, Solomon Katt?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then I did. I was in Mossad when we met.”
“But you’re neither Jewish nor Israeli.”
“No. I’m just special, kitten. Like you are.”
“You’re also married to the Vice President, remember?” Crawford asked. “Hence the Secret Service outside.”
“Oh. Right. You know, someone was trying to run me and my children off the road in, uh, my universe.” The panic about the kids that I’d managed to ignore for a few minutes resurfaced.
Martini winced. “Baby, please, stop . . .”
Was about to tell him to stop calling me baby when the full ramifications of what was going on hit me. “Oh. Crap. I have to pretend to be your wife, don’t I?”
“Please and thank you,” Crawford said. “Angela, I know why you kept the Secret Service details outside, but we may have to take them into our confidence.”
“Absolutely not.” Mom looked around the room. “Good, we only have Centaurion Division personnel here. I want no one other than those in this room to know that anything has happened beyond Kitty hitting her head, hard, and getting a concussion. Memory loss and confusion are a natural outcome of that. We can brief her on everything else.”
“Raj needs to know,” Serene said. “And Pierre will guess. Mister Joel Oli
ver might, too.”
Mom shrugged. “Raj, I agree. If Pierre or Oliver guess, then we can choose if we tell them or not. But otherwise, no one else. Too many know what’s going on right now.”
“I don’t know what’s going on. And, more to the point, I have no idea what’s going on with my children.”
“Your kids are safe,” James said with conviction.
“How would you know?”
“If Tim is right, and it’s the only explanation that actually makes sense, then you and our Kitty switched right when you were being attacked, right?”
I nodded.
“Then she was put into your place in order to do exactly what I and everyone else here knows she did—she handled it and she and your kids are all safe.”
“You have no way of guaranteeing that. Why would she be more likely to be able to keep from being run off the road than I would?”
Christopher walked over to me and picked me up. With one hand. Easily. “We’re aliens. From another planet. Compared to humans, we’re stronger, faster, and have accelerated healing. Due to a drug that some of us were . . . given . . . a few of us have mutated.” He put me down. “Jeff is one of those people—he’s the strongest empath in the universe, most likely. He’s also stronger and faster than the average A-C. I am, too. Jamie’s birth affected our Kitty and gave her most of our powers.”
“So she’s faster and stronger than you are,” James said. “And she’s been trained to handle these kinds of situations for the past five years.”
“And I’ve worked with her on her powers for the past three years,” Christopher added. “She can handle whatever is being thrown at her in your world.”
“Especially if there are actually no aliens in your world,” Charles added. “Because if there aren’t, then she’s probably the most powerful person on Earth right now.”
“I shudder to contemplate that,” Christopher muttered.
The Silver Fox came over and gave me a warm smile. “I’m Richard White, Christopher’s father. I’m also Jeffrey’s uncle, and Paul Gower’s.” He indicated the big, black, bald guy. Who happened to be standing close to James. Got the distinct impression they were a couple. “Paul is our current Supreme Pontifex, meaning our religious leader. I used to be, however, I retired when Jamie was born. Katherine and I also partner up when it comes to butt-kicking, as you like to put it. She is more than capable of protecting your children as she would her own.”