Supervillainess (Part Two)

by Ford, Lizzy

  While she was happy to lead one of the city’s wealthiest drug rings, doing drugs had never appealed to her. She experimented with cocaine one summer, when she was twelve, and ended up dragged to a drug den by none other than Igor. It was the sole time in her life she’d ever seen him angry about anything, and he came close to betraying her to her father.

  She wasn’t addicted; she’d been playing with the stash belonging to one of the ninjas training her in combat arms. After a week stay, with Igor lecturing her daily about how junkies could never take over a city, she got the point about drugs. Igor was so angry, he managed to terrify almost every drug addict in the den into going to rehab to escape the monster they all saw, and she had returned home hours before her father arrived from a two-week operation in the city.

  What she had learned from the incident: if she wanted to fulfill her sole goal in life, present from the age of six, she couldn’t let drugs distract her. The second lesson: Igor really did care for her. Until then, she had believed her father’s claim no one could love her and her brother.

  The thought of Jermaine left her feeling aching and hollow. He was better off dead. This much she knew. She had been merciful compared to what her father would’ve done to him. Still, she missed her brother as much now as she had the day he betrayed her. Losing him only made her more determined not to lose anyone else she cared about, which meant beating her father before he captured or killed Igor and the Doctor.

  Reader didn’t allow herself to dwell on the daunting task or her brother’s loss, not today. She had a more important mission.

  He’s not here. If he were, she wouldn’t be able to read the warped out minds of those around her.

  Her ninjas returned from the top three floors and sent her telepathic reports, confirming the Doctor was nowhere to be found in this drug den.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it free.

  Igor had sent her yet another video slamming the city’s new superhero. Her father’s propaganda arm was in full swing as retribution for the fact a clueless, inexperienced superhero had breached his fortress and survived. She didn’t need to talk to her father to know he was enraged.

  She tapped her screen to watch the first few seconds of the video. It was hard not to smile when she saw the grainy footage – probably taken from one of the street or store cameras. It showed an awkward man in yellow spandex tripping over his cape as he tried to chase a mugger. Someone had subtitled it, Doctor Clown.

  “Don’t worry, Mister Clown,” she murmured. “I’ll gut the man who posted this video.”

  Sensing she was getting nowhere again tonight, Reader left the drug den and stood outside on the sidewalk, pensive. Her men had scoured every registered and unregistered drug den in Sand City, including those that belonged to her father. If what happened to the Doctor truly did occur as Officer Ford had explained, then Kimber should have been in one of the places in the city where he could score morphine and other opiates. She’d set a hefty reward for his sighting and sent out word to all the dealers, wholesalers, and importers they’d receive double if they found and detained him.

  So far, everyone was looking and no one had seen him.

  Igor texted again. If you’re not having any luck, I have an idea.

  Reader sent a quick reply and gave her ninjas orders to continue searching. She left this part of the inner city and walked several blocks to Igor’s new home. All the lights on the ground floor of the townhome were on, and she smelled a fruity dessert baking before she even opened the door.

  She entered, noting the new couch where none had been two days ago.

  “Hey, Igor,” she called.

  “Kitchen.”

  She crossed to the well-stocked kitchen, not surprised to see him at standing at the counter, reading on his iPad while he cooked on the stove.

  “What’s your idea?” she asked.

  “I’m guessing you had no luck tonight.”

  “None.”

  Igor lowered his tablet and faced her. “Have you checked rehab centers?”

  “Why would a druggie go to … oh.” Thinking like Kimber had proved close to impossible for her, not just because he was a do-gooder, but because, whenever she thought about him, she felt strange. It wasn’t admiration this time, but it had something to do with her rescue three days before, when he’d risked his life and stood up to her father to save her.

  He’d even turned down the offer of a truce, because it meant she would get hurt. At first, she thought him crazy, until she recalled who and what he was. He was supposed to do good in every circumstance, even situations where there was no real good to come of it, in which case he was supposed to do the best he could.

  But still. He’d done good for her. And it wasn’t the first time.

  “Because superheroes who are also junkies might try to get help instead of hiding in a drug den doing drugs,” she said.

  “Exactly,” Igor replied. “Do-gooders have a very strange notion of how to do things, compared to us, which makes me think this idea might hold water.”

  “Hmm. Okay,” she agreed. “So I’m going to have to send my ninjas to rehab centers.”

  One of Igor’s eyebrows lifted. “Why are you doing this, Reader?”

  She knew his tone well enough by now to understand he already suspected the answer to this question.

  “So he can help me take out my father. He’s been a distraction, and Father now has him in his crosshairs. We might as well work together,” she replied.

  “That’s it?”

  Not quite. But she didn’t understand how to justify the hesitation she’d always experienced when the Doctor was around. He distracted her from her goals – and oddly enough, she didn’t mind. “I don’t know,” she said, puzzled. “I can’t convince myself to kill him yet.”

  “Maybe in time.”

  “Yeah.” She shook her head, unable to untangle the combination of erratic thoughts and sudden emotions that came with discussing or thinking about the Doctor. “If he went to get help … I bet I know where to start.”

  Her thoughts turned to where she’d found him once before, in the apartment of one of his ER work friends.

  “Save me some pie, Igor!” she called as she left the townhome.

  Reader slid into the backseat of the waiting car out front and gave the address to her driver. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of the building where she’d told Kimber she put in a Superhero Application for him, a few weeks before.

  The doorman didn’t try to stop the feared daughter of the city’s supervillain. Neither did the security guard, who leapt to his feet and smiled nervously. Ignoring them, she went to the seventh floor and strode down the hallway to the apartment of one of Kimber’s friends.

  Reader debated between taking out the door with a controlled explosive and knocking. Supervillaineses were not always welcome. Last time, she had knocked, out of respect for the Doctor, and it appeared to work. So she did it again this time.

  A moment later, the door opened. The green-eyed man on the other side appeared startled and then star struck. She recalled meeting him before and signing his villain collector cards, though she didn’t remember what his name was.

  “It’s you,” he breathed.

  “I’m looking for the Doc … for Kimber,” she said. “Is he here?”

  Uncertainty crossed the man’s features. She tilted her head. She was able to read his mind, which meant the Doctor wasn’t present. The fact the man appeared ready to lie to her about that caught her attention.

  … swore not to tell her where he is … he was thinking.

  “And where is that?” she asked.

  Whether or not he wanted to respond, his mind would automatically. The man flushed, and mumbled something incoherent, but his thoughts gave her the answer.

  Quail Lake Rehab.

  Reader strode away, leaving him with his mouth gaping. She left the building and went to her car.

  Half an hour later, her dr
iver rolled to a stop in front of the secluded rehab center in the middle of a forest, beside one of the lakes.

  Reader left the car and walked inside. The night shift consisted of a large orderly flirting with a nurse at the reception area, though both snapped to attention when Reader approached.

  “I’m looking for …” She tilted her head, suddenly unable to read their minds. “Kimber Wellington.”

  The two exchanged a look before the nurse checked the computer. “There’s no one here by that name.”

  “But he’s here. I sense him.” Without asking for permission, she went to the locked door behind the reception desk that led into the patient area of the center.

  After a brief hesitation, the large orderly scrambled to unlock the door for her. “We won’t interfere with your business here,” he said. “But please don’t get us fired. We aren’t supposed to let anyone back here.”

  “I’m the last person to report anyone for breaking the rules,” she said, amused. Reader strode into the dimly lit corridor lined with patient rooms. The doors were closed, and she paused in the center of the hallway between the first two. Not here, she thought and stepped forward to the next two.

  She repeated the process until she reached a point where her villain instincts warned her a superhero was present. Reader rested her hand on one door. Her mind was silent. She crossed the hall to the door opposite it and rested her hand on this door.

  “Open this one,” she directed the orderly, stepping back.

  He obeyed and moved aside for her to enter.

  The small room was clean and neat, with two beds – one against each wall – dressers, and a light on the nightstand between the beds. The light was on, and the Doctor was seated in a white t-shirt, his legs under the blankets, with a book, reading.

  “I know. Lights out was three hours ago,” he said without looking up.

  She closed the door behind her. “Trouble sleeping, Doc?”

  Kimber’s blue gaze flew up, and he stared at her, startled and then angry. “You …” He drew a steady breath with effort and set his book aside. “You’re something out of a nightmare, Keladry.”

  “Good to see you, too, Doc,” she replied with a half-smile. “And it’s Reader.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” he replied and pushed off the covers to reveal blue pajama pants.

  She shrugged, unaffected either way. Reader sat down on the bed opposite him, her gaze on his book.

  “What the fuck, Doc?” she asked and stretched to grab it. “What to know before moving overseas.”

  He snatched it back and placed it on the side of his bed near the wall, out of her reach.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “But you just got here.”

  “And had a relapse within weeks of arriving.”

  “Because my father triggered it,” she said. “It wasn’t your choice.”

  “I’m weak. It doesn’t matter what triggered it. He reminded me that I couldn’t control that part of me. And if he did it once, he can do it again,” Kimber said quietly. “The city deserves better than a superhero who can’t trust himself.”

  “You’ve been a shitty superhero,” she acknowledged. “But you can learn.”

  He rolled his eyes. “For what purpose? What happens when there’s a bus of kids or an entire stadium full of people I have to protect, and your father takes me out with one dart? I couldn’t live with myself if that happened, and I can’t go out there and pretend to be something I’m not when innocent people’s lives are depending on me.”

  She listened and was quiet when he finished as she considered all he said. “I understand,” she said finally.

  Kimber raised an eyebrow. “No smart ass remark this time?”

  “These things are important to you.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “They are.” He was staring at her intently, as if seeing her for the first time. “My weakness could get a lot of people killed.”

  Reader wasn’t concerned about random people at all. She made an effort to see Kimber’s side - the point of view of someone she was sworn to defeat. It was healthy to think like the enemy, so she could predict him. But he was more than that. He was the only person in the city she actually wanted to stay in the city.

  “Having a weakness is scary,” she admitted. “You fear what it will do to you, because it’s beyond your control, and you fear what others will do to you when they discover it. And you fear it will eventually become what destroys you.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “You and Igor are my weaknesses.”

  “That explains why you expelled us.” Kimber studied her, puzzled. “Why didn’t you try to throw us out again when we returned?”

  “Because, when you were gone, I realized you being here makes me stronger when I need to be. Knowing you could be gone in seconds, if my father caught you, makes me fight harder. Defeating him meant more when I had a reason to fight.”

  He was silent, his features unreadable.

  “Having a weakness and being weak aren’t the same,” she added. “Everyone has a weakness. Your flaws do not define who you are. How you overcome them, and how you use them to make you stronger, defines you.”

  “You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met,” Kimber whispered after a minute of silence. “There are days when I would seriously like to murder you and moments like this, when I’ve never heard anything or seen anyone so incredible.”

  “You came back to the city for me,” she reminded him with a small smile, recalling his claim when they’d been fleeing her father’s fortress. “But I also think you know your particular brand of do-goodness can make a difference here. You have to decide what you want more: to let your weakness define you for the rest of your life or to let it make you stronger.”

  “It’s not easy.”

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed. “My brother …” Her voice broke. She looked away from Kimber and cleared her throat. “My brother let his weaknesses define him. He betrayed who he was, the city, and me. We know how that ended. I don’t want that for you.”

  She shifted when the bed beside her sank beneath his weight. Reader met Kimber’s gaze again, wary. Warmth was in his eyes, and his shoulder was inches from hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not,” she replied firmly. “He had to be dealt with.”

  “We will never agree on murder. I meant, I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

  Reader was silent.

  “We have something, don’t we?” Kimber asked, a flicker of uncertainty in his voice. “I mean … something that pulls us towards one another when it defies every last piece of common sense I possess.”

  “Like a supervillainess submitting a superhero application for someone?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Like me returning when I know how out of my league I am.”

  As they spoke, they leaned closer towards one another. Their shoulders met, and her heartbeat quickened.

  “You being here is your calling,” she told him.

  “And you being here is yours.”

  Their lips were close enough to brush, and Reader felt the warmth radiating off his strong frame.

  “This is crazy,” Kimber whispered against her mouth.

  “I excel at crazy.” Reader closed the remaining distance between them and kissed him. The idea of kissing a superhero – her mortal enemy – sent a thrill through her. His lips were warm and smooth, and he showed no sign of his normal hesitancy when it came to dealing with her.

  She savored the soft kiss, feeling as if she were just now beginning to understand him. Deepening the exchange, she felt his hand cup the back of her neck and leaned into him, resting her palm on his warm thigh.

  What started as slow exploration soon slid into something more urgent. Heavy petting, hands sliding beneath clothing, bodies shifting to give one another better access – and hungry kisses.

  Reader pushed him onto his back in t
he bed.

  Kimber pulled his mouth away, his breath as unsteady as hers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I can’t control my strength.”

  “I heal fast,” she responded dryly.

  “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  “I’ll rip your heart out,” she promised with a grin.

  Kimber cupped her face in his large hands, studying her. “Then let’s make this worth it,” he said and pulled her face down to his.

  That her feelings led up to this only seemed natural, and the primal draw between them was of a nature she didn’t fully understand. It was more than a calling, more than fate.

  She soon gave up trying to understand how she could so easily shed the mantle of who she was and toppled headlong into her senses, until Kimber’s warm skin, rich scent and rough touch were all she could think of.

  Nine: A superhero may be down, but is never out

  The next morning, Kimber checked himself out of rehab and returned to the townhouse. He had awoken alone and naked, with nothing but a note from Keladry to remember his night by.

  Eight PM – Old Man’s Pier, she’d written.

  He read the note clutched in his hand one last time, standing on the porch of Igor’s townhouse. He’d been holding onto it since he left the center. His feelings were beyond jumbled. Keladry was as aggressive in bed as she was committing mass murder, and they’d worn each other out by dawn before falling asleep. Kimber had never experienced a night so satisfying or a morning so befuddling. Everything she’d said, combined with the afterglow of their night, left him feeling as if he could belong here after all.

  It unsettled him, especially whenever he considered how easily General Savage had taken him out the other day.

  Self-doubt battled with the sense the city – and Keladry – really did need him. Kimber left rehab but kept the book about living overseas. He instructed a cabbie to bring him here, while also telling himself he could walk to the bus station at any time. He was simultaneously confident and scared, exhilarated whenever he thought of making love to Keladry again and just as quickly certain a superhero could never love a villain. In one hand, he held a pamphlet from the rehab center, a reminder of his weakness. In the other was Keladry’s note.