Even Villains Fall in Love

by Liana Brooks

“Right. Is Daddy in the lab, sweetheart?”

  Blessing tilted her head to the side in an exact imitation of her mother. He needed to win the election, if nothing else he needed the Secret Service guarding his girls before they went to school.

  “Daddy?” Blessing asked. “Will you go to your lab? Please?”

  Evan groaned in dismay. “That’s cheating!”

  “We could put them to work, Master.”

  “There are child labor laws,” Evan said. “Even if I ignored the laws, what could they do?”

  “Sort widgets,” Hert said promptly.

  His daughters danced around him. “Fine. Girls? We are going to Daddy’s lab. Only touch something if Daddy says it’s okay. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy!” they chorused before rushing Hert like the offensive line at the Pro-Bowl and charging down the stairs.

  “Hert?”

  “Sir?”

  “Keep them away from the machines.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the knives,” Evan said as he hurried down the stairs.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the blow torches.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the screw drivers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the electrical outlets.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the drafting pencils.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the lasers.”

  “The lasers are out in the desert for Minion Field Day, sir.”

  “Hert,” Evan said as the girls ran into his lab and stopped next to the Agree-With-Me Ray with appreciative “oo’s” and “ah’s.”

  “Sir?”

  He looked at a lifetime of notations on a collection of whiteboards, lines of meticulously maintained tools for his engineering projects, and glowing vats waiting for his next minion. “Keep the girls away from everything.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Evan took a deep breath of the cold laboratory air and all his neurons began firing. Here, surrounded by diagrams and machines, he wasn’t the geek caught flat-footed who didn’t know the answer or how to make pancakes. In the lab, he reigned supreme, ready to mete out swift judgment and tackle everything.

  On the far side of the room, nearest to the subterranean exit, sat his new machine: the Election Ray. The Agree-With-Me Ray’s older, better-looking brother, the Election Ray didn’t need close proximity to work, it just need waves of some form. Airwaves, electric waves, radio waves, and cell phone waves all worked to project a single message throbbing into the unsuspecting minds of humanity.

  Early results were promising. For the first test, he’d sent a message encouraging everyone to buy purple Banala Babes Dolls. Stores had sold out, but only of red and blue. People had bought the dolls in pairs and hadn’t touched the purple. Fine-tuning was in progress.

  The rebuilt Agree-With-Me Ray sat in another corner under bulletproof glass. He had fond memories of that machine, but the original was too bulky for use as anything but a museum piece. A smaller version shaped like an obsidian statue of the Greek goddess Nike sat beside the first, also under glass. Three industrious minions were working on the latest version as per the specs he’d drawn up the day before—all the power of the original Agree-With-Me Ray streamlined to fit into a stylish wristwatch.

  “Daddy?” Delila ran to him. “What’s a widget and when can I sort one?”

  “Hert!”

  “Master?”

  “Give them something to sort.”

  “Yes, Master.” Hert obediently found a jar of mixed screws and nuts, dumped it on the concrete floor, and sat with the girls to help them sort the contents.

  Evan watched for a moment before heading to his favorite invention: the Morality Machine with its ability to adjust one fine-tuned aspect of the personality. After all, he didn’t want Tabitha as a slobbering monster with no morals. As a villain, she’d be downright scary.

  Love was a complicated thing, a complex process in a constant state of flux. Most people didn’t understand how to perfect the three-part harmony of lust, attachment, and commitment that produced true love. He was ahead of the game there, lust had fueled Tabitha’s first kiss. Even now, the memory was enough to make him harden with need. Any villain of moderate intelligence could whip up a basic love potion to produce lust—a combination of adrenaline, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. But, like any bad cocktail of drugs, there was a time limit on chemical mixes. The body eventually adjusted and then love faded.

  Third-stage love involved free will and commitment. He couldn’t take away Tabitha’s free will without risking her mind entirely. Driving down the street, she might need to swerve suddenly to avoid a deer or oncoming car. Without free will, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.

  So he’d focused the machine on the second stage of love, attachment. Mad lust kept the bedroom games fun, but attachment made sure she only wanted to play with him. His machine focused magnetic waves on the glands that controlled production of vasopressin and oxytocin. A second magnet sent a pulse wave that triggered memories of their time together. It was as good as staring into her eyes for hours at a time. Tabitha lived in the soft glow of fond affection, always thinking of him.

  If it weren’t for the Morality Machine, the first kiss would have been their last. Tabitha would have found some other man, someone she didn’t instantly write off as beneath her. She would have found love the old-fashioned way, and he would have died of a broken heart. The core of the Morality Machine winked at him under the spotlight. Such an elegant machine. The black matrix around the crystal looked like a spider web lain out by MC Escher. The crystal heart shone translucent blue and showed the perfect moment: Tabitha kissing him.

  The image wasn’t part of the machine, more a screen for what the machine did. Tweaking it would be hard. With the proper fix, he could boost her sex drive, tinkering with the first stages of lust. If he did that the crystal image would probably change to one of their more erotic forays into emotional expression, and that would leave Tabitha panting with need every hour of the day. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t let her out of the bedroom like that! Super powers be hanged, he’d find a pair of cuffs and... Evan took a deep breath. Later.

  Election Ray first. Sex later.

  If he turned it up right now she’d come home, and he needed to get some work done.

  “Daddy?”

  Evan jumped out of Angela’s way. “Yes? Why aren’t you sorting widgets?”

  “Is that Mommy?” She pointed at the crystal.

  “Yes, it is. Isn’t she pretty?”

  “Why do you have a picture of Mommy in the crazy spider web?”

  “Because I love Mommy, and I want to think about her while I work,” Evan said as he steered his precocious child back to the pile of unsorted screws.

  “Where’s my picture?”

  “What?”

  “Mommy has a picture. Where’s my picture? Don’t you love me?”

  The other three girls gasped.

  “You don’t love us, Daddy?” Blessing asked.

  “Of course I love you!” Evan knelt down as his brain raced to dig himself out of this hole. They were too much like their mother. Far too perceptive for his peace of mind. “I didn’t have the pictures I want of you,” he said slowly, constructing the lie as he went. “Why don’t you girls color Daddy some pictures and we can hang them up for me to see every day?”

  Maria clapped. “Can we decorate?”

  “Sure, why not? Hert, do we have a decorating minion?”

  “We have several programmed for color awareness and spatial reasoning, Master. Those are useful tools for programming.”

  “Great, bring one of them over.”

  Evan plopped Delila in his lap while the girls showed him the funny shaped things from the jar—mostly scrap metal—until Hert shuffled back over with a black and purple polka dotted minion. Like Tabitha’s canisters upstairs, the color codes had made sense at one time, but no
w he couldn’t remember why he’d programmed the genes for polka dots. Maybe he’d been drunk at the time.

  “Master, this is Fishy Thing.”

  “Fishy Thing? That sounds like one of my high school projects.”

  “Yes, Master. You programmed Fishy Thing during your senior year.”

  Purple and black. That’s right, he’d meant it to look like the homecoming game with everyone in school colors. “Great. Fishy Thing, my girls want to decorate. Help them out and keep them away from the machines and anything else dangerous. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master,” Fishy Thing answered.

  He checked on Agree-With-Me the Third, then went to work fine-tuning the Election Ray. The plan was the epitome of simplicity. Everyone knew the president of the United States was the most powerful person in the world. Power, influence, acclaim, wealth, attention...everything Evan had ever wanted rolled into one. But becoming president meant close public scrutiny, lying on a daily basis, and a year of hard work as he tried to build support for his lies. Unless, of course, everyone happened to want to write his name in the box for president on Election Day.

  Evan would win by a landslide. One hundred percent of the vote without rigging the system. There couldn’t be an argument because everyone would want him to win. The Election Ray ensured they would justify why they voted for him. He merely needed to fine-tune it a little bit, and keep Tabitha from finding out.

  Bad timing on her part. Did she really need to go back to super heroing now? Not that she would leave him, the Morality Machine kept that from happening, but she’d be upset. And then he’d feel guilty.

  But really, he thought as he started dismantling the wave device to adjust the controls inside, this would put her out of a job. Everyone would agree with him. Everyone would obey the laws. Everything would be just the way he wanted.

  Chapter Four

  There are days I miss being Doctor Charm. I loved the attention and the challenge of being a super villain. Any thug with a fist can rob a little old lady in an alley. That doesn’t take talent or brains. But I was never a thug, or a don, or a mastermind. Smalltime wasn’t my style. I didn’t want to be another fish in the pond, even if I was a big fish. I wanted to be the apex predator of the hemisphere. And I was.

  ***

  Evan patted his Election Ray. “We’ll test this first thing tomorrow.” If the calculations were right, he was one speech away from the Oval Office. Stretching, he turned to see the rest of his lab covered in pink and purple streamers. Crayon-scribbled graph paper covered most of the wall. Good thing no super hero was likely to stop by for a midnight battle of good versus evil, or they’d have died laughing. He lifted a multicolored paper chain off his computer. “Girls, Daddy’s fortress of evil looks different.”

  “We decorated!” Angela said happily. “Now you have pictures of us so you can love us.” She shoved a piece of paper at his knee.

  Like a good father, he inspected the balloon-headed, noodle-limbed figures and pronounced it a masterpiece. Tacking the picture over a diagram of a magnetic shield he’d been meaning to build, he smiled at the girls. “Let’s get some dinner going.”

  “What are you making?” Maria asked.

  “Reservations,” Evan said.

  “Pizza!” Delila squealed. Her sisters wasted no time picking up the refrain.

  “In that case, I’ll make a phone call.” Evan shooed them upstairs, then headed into the kitchen to scrub the machine grease off his hands as he told them to turn on the TV.

  “Daddy! It’s Mommy!”

  He turned to see Zephyr Girl smiling for the camera. She hovered inches off the ground, her hair in a ponytail, auroras ribboning around just like they had this morning.

  Evan licked his lips. Tabitha had worn her hair back like that last week while they worked in the garden. Her shirt had clung to her glistening skin. He’d tangled his fingers in her hair so he could run his tongue along her neck. He remembered how she shivered, the sweet coo of anticipation she made, the oak’s rough bark scrapping against his back when he pulled her close...

  “Why did you come back?” a reporter asked as she shoved a microphone in Zephyr Girl’s face.

  “I thought it was time. There was no real reason behind this, simply a desire to do good.”

  The reporter pulled the microphone back. “And with your return, do you expect to see the return of your arch nemesis Doctor Charm?”

  Zephyr Girl laughed. “I don’t think anyone needs to worry about Doctor Charm. I handled him the last time we were together.”

  Only Evan knew to look for the slight tweak in her smile that meant Tabitha was talking to him. She’d handled him all right. She handled, he’d gone down, they’d both hit their peaks. Maybe tonight she’d be interested in the fondle variation, or a replay of the events in slow motion.

  “And what can we expect to see from the new and improved Zephyr Girl?” the reporter asked.

  “Me at my best, saving the world!” She tossed her hair, mugging for the camera and fueling a thousand adolescent dreams. With a wink, she shot off in a cloud of sparks.

  “Why does Mommy get to fly?” Blessing asked.

  “Because Mommy is special,” Tabitha answered from the front door. A breeze fluttered her white cape.

  Evan smiled. “Hello, beautiful.”

  In a blink, she was in his arms, warm and safe. She stood on tiptoe, kissing him as she had the first time. “I missed you,” she said. He caught her hand, keeping her from turning away as the girls tugged at her cape and peppered her with questions.

  “I’ll go make dinner,” he whispered in her ear as he watched a bead of sweat pearl on her neck and slip down her cleavage. He wanted to run his tongue down her neck after it and then head lower. His jeans tightened.

  Tabitha stretched. “I’m out of shape. I forgot how much work it takes to fight.”

  “Sore?”

  “Everywhere!”

  “I’ll give you a rub down tonight.”

  Blue eyes went wide with desire. “Promise?” she nearly purred.

  “Promise. I’ll rub everything.”

  By the time Evan returned from tucking in the girls, amber and amethyst candles lit the bedroom. He locked the door and watched candlelight dance across his wife’s bare skin as she lay on the black satin sheets, like an offering to some ancient god. Golden hair flowed like a molten river over her pale skin. Evan slipped onto the bed and kissed a thin white scar on her upper arm. Flying glass in the lab had cut her the first time they’d fought. He’d realized then that he could never win against her. Every bruise on her body tore him apart.

  Running his fingers down her back, he savored her scent and her quiver of anticipation. Evan smiled and leaned down to whisper in Tabitha’s ear, “Do you really want a back rub?”

  “To start.”

  Taking a bottle of lavender oil from the nightstand Evan warmed it in his hands, and massaged the knots from her back. She hissed in pain and he lightened his touch. “What did you do today?”

  “Git Kraken was terrorizing Key West with his latest genetic constructs.”

  Evan chuckled. “Really?”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction. Apparently he was offended that he wasn’t invited to host a drag queen beauty pageant.”

  He caressed her, basking in her presence like ancient man worshipping the first goddess. “This is the man with tentacles, isn’t it?”

  “That’s the one. He has tentacles and ego, but not much else.” Tabitha rolled to the side and stretched a long leg onto his lap. “My hip is sore.”

  He obediently focused on her hip, watching her body melt in pleasure.

  With a languid sigh, Tabitha rolled to her back. “Mmmm. Evan, I was thinking of something this morning.”

  “So was I,” he said, his voice low and smoky.

  “Really?” She pushed up on one arm. “Have you thought about where to go?”

  “I was going to start here.” He moved one hand inward of her hi
p. “Then work my way down—”

  She swatted his hand away. “I meant a job, Evan.”

  He frowned. “You went to work today, sweetie, what else is there?”

  “I want you to get a job!”

  “I have a job.”

  Tabitha rolled her eyes. “You lock yourself in the basement and fiddle with a computer.”

  “It’s a job.”

  “I want you to get out of the house. You need friends.”

  “I have friends.”

  “Minions don’t count.”

  “If I can watch movies with them, they count.”

  Tabitha propped herself on her elbows. “Look at me.” Her nipples peaked in the cold air, begging for his attention.

  “I am.”

  “You’re wasted in the computer field. Why don’t you go work at the university? You’d make an amazing teacher.”

  He lifted his eyes to her face. “Would you stay home with the girls if I went to work?”

  “Is that the only way I can get you out of the basement?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you want me at work?” Tabitha asked with a frown. She sat up and crossed her arms.

  “I don’t want you hurt.” He traced the scar on her arm. “Do you remember this?”

  “It was a scratch.”

  “You don’t heal fast, Tabby-cat, and I can’t risk losing you. You have too much of me. Without you, I would fall apart.”

  “No you wouldn’t. You’re a handsome man, you’d find someone else.” She flopped back in the bed with a sigh. “All you have to do is smile and women trip over themselves to have you. Last time I let you go grocery shopping someone wrote her phone number on the minivan with shoe polish.”

  He chuckled. “There’s only you, love. Always and forever, only you.” He leaned down and kissed her. “And, as I recall, it took more than a smile to catch your attention.” He nudged her over so he could finish her backrub—and think. “Would you really give up Zephyr Girl again?”

  “Until the girls start school. If you taught morning classes, you could be back by the time school was out.”

  He fingers found a subtle dent in her skin where stretch marks had left their tracks during pregnancy. She’d hated the eighty pounds she gained carrying quads, but he’d loved her full form, almost missed it some days. That was an idea. “What if we want another baby?”