The Rise of Renegade X

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “We’ll talk later and figure out how to get you into Vilmore.” She moves to hug me, then realizes I’m sopping wet. She hesitates and does it anyway. We embrace, holding on to each other too tightly, like it might never happen again. I whisper in her ear. “Let’s dress like pirates for the wedding.”

  “Aw, but you were right—you’d look hot in a tux.”

  “Swords, Kat. I’m talking about getting to have swords. And a parrot who’s also a sea captain to read us our vows.”

  “Let’s tell everyone else it’s a Renaissance theme and to dress accordingly.”

  “Better yet, we tell my side it’s a fifties-diner theme, yours that it’s World War One, not Two. Anyone who shows up without a costume gets the Renaissance garb we’ll have on hand.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kat says. We high-five each other.

  I wave at her as she walks off to her warm house and warm food and cranky relatives. I don’t look forward to deciding what to do with myself next.

  And then I don’t have to, because a dog licks my hand. I look down to see Heraldo dragging his leash, with Sarah nowhere in sight.

  It’s dark by the time Heraldo and I get to Mom’s. My arms are sore from dragging a giant dog through the city. Every time he sees something interesting, he pulls me along after him. I don’t know how Sarah does it. I also forgot my glove in the park—I think my right hand has leash burns.

  “Mom!” I call as I get through the door. I set my stuff on the couch, take off my other glove, and let Heraldo loose. He takes off into the kitchen. I hear a deep bark and then Mom screams. She pokes her head into the room and seems relieved to see it’s me. She’s on the phone. She holds her hand over it and says, “Damien, what are you doing here? And more importantly, what is this beast?”

  “I’m dogsitting.”

  She holds up a finger, signaling me to hold on. “You’ve got her this time? Oh, excellent. No, everything’s ready on this side. Don’t hold back—get results, honeybuns. Whatever it takes—keep me informed.” She pauses, her eyes darting toward me. “He’s here, actually. I’ll make sure, don’t worry.” She hangs up. “Taylor says hello.”

  I’m sure he does. “Things didn’t work out at Gordon’s.”

  She flinches when I say his name. Heraldo jumps on her, knocking her back a step, and she pushes him away. “Damien, please keep that thing under control. I’ve got important work going on.”

  “For honeybuns?”

  She fixes her hair. “As a matter of fact, yes. I have a surprise for you. You know Taylor and I have been doing some work together?”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Mom clasps her hands together and beams at me. “Taylor’s actually quite brilliant. He’s worthy of more than being ‘dean’ of some school.”

  “Of Vilmore.” I pet Heraldo, and his tail thumps really hard against my leg. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Mom tilts her head, her expression pitying. “You used to be so ambitious before you got that X.” She puts her hands on my face, pinching my cheeks. Then she pats me on the head. “I shouldn’t have let that man take you—”

  “My father, you mean?”

  She sighs. “People like me and Taylor, we’ve got untapped potential. And we’re not getting any younger.”

  “He’s the dean of Vilmore. Some people would kill to get there. It’s … Stop looking at me like that, Mom.”

  “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can’t understand. All right, Vilmore is a prestigious school, churning out many fine young supervillains who’ll go on to do famous things. But that’s just it. How many of those kids dream of sitting in an office at that same school? It doesn’t make the history books.”

  “And what’s so horrible about your life?” I slump down in the armchair and pick at a string hanging off it.

  “Well,” she says, very matter-of-factly, “I did have you at a rather young age.”

  “So? You were twenty-two, that’s—”

  “It’s hard to build a name for yourself while having to put so much time into someone else. I think I did a pretty good job, considering, and I love you very much, you know. I wouldn’t change a thing. But … you’re growing up now, and—”

  “And it’s so convenient that you have someone else to pawn me off on.”

  “—if I’m going to give my career an extra boost, now’s the time.” Mom sits on the edge of the couch. She smells like chemicals from her lab. Sulfur and ammonia. It’s good to be home, even if it feels really empty after being at the Tines house. Mom’s whole face lights up, and I have to admit I haven’t seen her this happy in years. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll—Damien, where’s your coat? It’s cold out.”

  “Lost it. Guess I’m not as ready to take care of myself as you think.” Heraldo suddenly leaps on me, his front paws punching me in the stomach. He slurps my face. “Get down! Boy …,” I add lamely, pointing at the floor. He doesn’t listen.

  “Anyway,” Mom goes on, rubbing her hands together, “tonight, everything changes. Tomorrow, we’ll be king and queen of this city—”

  “Who? Us?” It’s hard to listen with Heraldo’s hot breath in my face. I fend him off with both hands as he licks my hair. I make the mistake of turning my head right as he barks, and then my ear is ringing.

  “Taylor and I. And you’ll be my little prince. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “You’re taking over the city? Tonight?” Did she call me little? I’m sixteen and taller than her.

  “I’ve been bursting to tell you, but you’ve had so many changes in your life lately, I didn’t have the heart to get your hopes up, in case it didn’t happen.” She slaps a hand to her chest and breathes out. “It’s such a relief to share this with you! It’s so exciting, I can hardly stand it. Think of it, Damien. We can do whatever we want, have whatever we want. You name it.”

  “Oh, so if this works out, you and Taylor won’t get married? Because that’s what I want.”

  Mom’s selective hearing must be acting up again, because she acts like I didn’t say anything. By “whatever I want,” she must have meant the opposite. “That Sarah Kink girl’s the key to making all our dreams come true. You were right, Damien—the hypno device wasn’t Dr. Kink’s invention after all. It turns out it was his daughter’s. Now that we’ve got her in custody, our plans are going to go very smoothly.”

  Custody. Mom and Taylor nabbed Sarah and have her in “custody.” Just like they had her dad. My insides go cold and it takes effort to keep from shaking. But if I have any hope of saving Sarah, it all depends on Mom and Taylor not finding out I care about her.

  I force myself out of the chair and follow Mom as she dances into the kitchen, she’s so happy about whatever’s happening tonight. Something that involves kidnapping my sidekick. “Your plans?”

  “You picked a good time to come back. I have to give you something. I tried to call you, but you had your phone off.”

  The counters are covered in chemistry beakers, and there are stacks of filthy pots and pans piled on the stove. Papers with what look like recipes and math are tacked to the cupboards. Intermingled between all the science-lab equipment are open boxes of Chinese food with dry noodles and chopsticks hanging out of them. There are stains on the floor, too, especially near the stove and the sink, where Mom must have spilled her concoctions and never cleaned them up. “Mom, did something happen to your lab?”

  “What? Oh no, sweetie. With you gone, I got a little carried away.”

  “Lazy is the word I think you’re looking for.”

  “Well, that, too. Ah, here it is.” She grabs a small vial full of green liquid off the microwave. She holds it out to me. “I want you to take this as soon as possible. This will protect you.”

  I stare at it. “From what?”

  “The hypno toxin I invented. Taylor and I are about to pump it through the sewer system. On its own, it doesn’t do much, but when combined with Miss Kink’s device, anyone who breathes it
in will be susceptible to mind control. Oh, I shouldn’t say anyone. Anyone who’s not a supervillain. Once we’ve spread my toxin, all we have to do is speak into the device and set the trigger word. We’re going to broadcast it across the city. Once the trigger word is set, anyone affected by the toxin who hears the word spoken through this device will be helpless, forced to obey my—our—command. But it’s the superheroes I’m really interested in, not the nobodies. By morning, if all goes well, every superhero in Golden City will be like brainless robots, ready to do our bidding.”

  “I think the term is zombie.”

  “Don’t be silly, sweetie. Zombies are undead and they eat brains. It’s very different. We’re not monsters.” She laughs.

  “And you think I might be affected by your … work.”

  She shrugs and tries to smile. “Well, you are half … you know.”

  “Superhero.”

  “Anyone who’s not a supervillain who breathes in the toxin I made will become susceptible when they hear my voice through the hypno device. I don’t know how the toxin will affect you, but I don’t want to take any chances. So you take this antidote, okay? Promise me.”

  “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” I put the vial to my mouth like I’m going to drink it, but when Mom turns her back to mess with something by the stove, I stick it in my pocket. “Yuck. You didn’t tell me how bad it was going to taste.”

  Mom smiles. “We all have to make sacrifices, Damien. An unpleasant taste is a small price to pay for staying safe tonight. It’s going to be worth it. With all the superheroes in the city under our command, rising to the top will be a cinch.” She snaps her fingers. “The other supervillains will have to acknowledge our power. How’s that for going down in the history books? First Golden City, and then who knows? With that much superpower under our command, we could expand. And someday you’ll inherit everything. How’s Kat going to like being an empress?” She winks at me.

  Okay. That’s a lot to offer a girl, I have to admit. “Kat likes me how I am. She doesn’t need a whole city.”

  “So you are back with her?” Mom raises her eyebrows.

  She’s totally prying, but I don’t care. “Yeah. I am.” It feels good. After all the ups and downs over the past year, I finally know where I stand with her, and I can’t say it’s a bad place to be. More the opposite. “We’re getting married. You should come. Wear a poodle skirt and roller skates.”

  “Oh, I’m glad,” Mom says, and I don’t know if she heard me, or if she thought I was joking about her wearing the roller skates. “And once we’ve taken over the city, you’ll never have to see that man again. You can come home for good.”

  Come home? Never have to get yelled at by Gordon again? I’d have my own room—I could have my own palace. A one-story palace, of course, but it’d still be huge. Just let Gordon try and push me off a building again. No more trying to turn me into a superhero or letting villains burn in a fire just because they’re going to grow up to have Vs.

  I picture Gordon and the rest of the fam as mindless zombie slaves, glassy-eyed, bowing to my every whim. Making me sandwiches and telling me how much they love supervillains. Especially me. Maybe I’ll even let them live in my house, to keep them safe from Mom. She might get carried away and do something really awful to Gordon.

  Something really awful like turn him into my slave? With no freewill at all?

  Okay, that’s pretty bad. My lungs feel heavy, and guilt prickles up and down my spine. Gordon rescued me from a fire. After I stupidly ran in there when he told me not to. He wasn’t willing to go in for just anybody like I’d thought he’d be—he almost died specifically saving me. His intentions of turning me into a superhero, just like him, were totally misguided, but he was trying to help. It’s not his fault he’s an idiot.

  And this new world of Mom’s, with her and honeybuns at the top? Yeah, parts of it sound cool, like me and Kat having our own palace. But the rest of it sounds pretty awful. Who are we going to make fun if there are no heroes around? And, I don’t know, before Gordon freaked out because he thought I robbed Helen’s store, things were starting to go okay. I never had a problem being an only child before, but now that it turns out I’m not, it’s not so bad. I kind of like my siblings. Even, dare I say it, Amelia, without whom Kat would not know that I might be in love with her and want to have her babies. Or something like that.

  Another flaw with Mom’s plan: you’d have to tell the zombies to feed and wash themselves, too. And breed. Otherwise this little empire isn’t going to last. Or expand. There’s an untapped industry: zombie-slave superhero porn.

  I catch myself making a disgusted face, then quickly replace it with a grin. “Gee, Mom, it all sounds so wonderful. I can’t wait.”

  She hugs me. “I know. I’m so excited.”

  “Are they going to torture that girl? Sarah something? To get her to fix the hypno device?” Not if I have anything to say about it, they’re not.

  “If they have to. I told Taylor not to hold back.”

  Crap. “Can I go help? Pleeease?” Hopefully I’ll get there in time before they do something awful to my sidekick. I don’t know how Sarah will hold up under torture, but I don’t want to find out. I have to get to her before she’s scarred for life and before she fixes that device.

  “I don’t know, Damien. I want you here where I can keep an eye on you. Things might get a little crazy tonight. I don’t want you wandering around the city. Without a coat, I might add.” She shakes her head in exasperation. “Besides, I haven’t gotten to see you in a while. I missed you, you know.”

  “Mom, I hate to break it to you, but Taylor’s not as great as you think. I know he’s not sure if I’m Vilmore material, and I want a chance to prove him wrong. What could be a better chance than this? Let me go over there, and I’ll make that Sarah girl talk. I have ways. And I’m sixteen. You don’t have to worry about me going out by myself. I can handle it.”

  “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose you can go over to Taylor’s. You’re right, it would be a good opportunity for you to show off your villain potential. Who knows? Maybe you two will bond tonight and you’ll be a little more accepting of him joining our family. And you did take the antidote—that should keep you safe tonight.” She looks around the kitchen and purses her lips, like she hadn’t noticed how messy it was until now. “Pick up something on your way home, will you? Maybe Indian food.”

  I make a face. “No way.”

  She hands me twenty bucks. “Sushi.”

  “Mom.”

  “Fine. Get whatever you want, dear. And, Damien, change your shirt before you go. You look like a ragamuffin. You’re going to be prince of Golden City tomorrow—you need to think about the impression you’re making.”

  “I’m sorry, Damien.” Taylor splays his hands in a “you’re out of luck” gesture when I get to his house and ask to help them torture Sarah. “You’re too late.”

  I try not to look like my heart just stopped beating. Too late?

  Taylor shakes his head. “Besides, your mother shouldn’t have let you come here. You don’t need to get involved.” He gives me a stern look, like he doesn’t think I can cut it and should go back home.

  He picks his way past piles of boxes in the living room and I follow him. Taylor inherited this house when his mother died last year. We helped him move here from his old apartment. It smells like an old lady—like mothballs and antiseptic spray and vanilla candles—and he still hasn’t dealt with all her stuff, since he spends most of his time either at Vilmore or at my house.

  “You mean I missed out on all the torture?” I say. “Did you let her go, or could I still get in on it?”

  Taylor whips around and accidentally elbows a pile of gardening magazines as tall as I am. The whole stack topples over, crashing into a three-legged table with a vase on it and knocking them both to the floor. He makes an exasperated scoffing sound, like it’s all my fault for being here. “Damien, go home. You’re not needed.”
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br />   “But—”

  A familiar face appears out of the hallway. A sinister grin slips across Pete’s mouth as he takes his place next to Taylor. “Damien,” Taylor says, “I think you’ll find that I have all the assistance I need. Peter here will show you out. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a very important phone call to make.” He disappears in the hallway and I hear his footsteps on the stairs.

  I make like I’m heading for the door, even if I have no intentions of leaving here without Sarah. “Thanks anyway, Pete, but I can find my own way out.”

  Pete grabs my arm and twists it behind my back. “Not so fast, Damien. Who’s winning now?”

  “Oh, I see. Got a taste for me the other night, and now you want more?”

  Pete lets me go. His fist comes at me so fast that I don’t know what’s going on until it’s too late. His knuckles collide with my jaw in a burst of pain. The force knocks me back and I stumble into a glass cabinet full of china plates. It rattles and I feel some of the dishes inside it fall and break. Warm blood pours out of my bottom lip.

  “Been waiting to do that,” Pete says, cracking his knuckles, “for a long time.”

  “You’re just mad because all those pockmarks uglied up your face.” I touch my lip and wince. I pull my hand back and stare at my own blood staining my fingers. Nobody’s ever hit me before. That’s kind of surprising, now that I think about it. “I warned you not to scratch, Pete, just like I warned you not to mess with me.”

  Pete lunges at me. I step out of the way, but he grabs my shirt and punches me again, and this time it’s my left eye and the bridge of my nose that erupt in white-hot pain.

  “It was you on the cliff, wasn’t it? You almost killed Sarah!”

  “You catch on quick.” Pete smiles and holds up his fist. “The first one was for the other night,” he says. “That one was for being a lousy friend and stealing Kat from me.”

  I glare at him, even though my eye is throbbing. “You took her from me. We had a good thing going, and then you—”

  “I saw her first!” Pete screams. He grabs me by the collar and shakes me, my head banging against the china cabinet. “You knew I liked her. You knew I was crazy about her, but you took her away from me anyway! I even introduced you.” He laughs and shoves me to the floor. “I was an idiot.”