Even Villains Fall in Love (5 page)

“Only a little,” Angela said. “It makes my head
hurt, and my tummy gets all wavy.”

“Queasy you mean?”

She nodded.

“So one telekinetic, one pyrokinetic, one mind
controller, and one locksmith.” Evan frowned. Three high-level
mutations and one limited focus telekinetic. Why didn’t that sound
right? “One of these things is not like the other. Delila?”

“Daddy?” She looked up at him, the picture of
innocence.

“Do you do anything besides click?”

“No, Daddy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Daddy. I don’t do nothing but listen.
Sometimes people tell me funny things.”

“Like?”

“Like everything, Daddy. Mommy told me what she
bought me for my birthday, and the man at the store told me how to
get his money from the machine.”

Probably a form of mind control. Uncontrolled
mind control. The tiny part of his brain responsible for
self-preservation and putting the brakes on really bad ideas curled
into a corner, gibbering in terror.

“She does puzzles quick too,” Angela offered.
“Real quick.”

“Puzzles is easy,” Delila confirmed. “They’re
just like locks. They want to be in order.”

They weren’t even in school yet! Maybe he could
talk Tabitha into sending them to a private boarding school. In the
Swiss Alps. With nuns. And absolutely no boys.

He patted Delila’s head. “This is something
Mommy doesn’t need to know about. She’s stressed. She’s had a long
day at work. Let’s keep all of this to ourselves until the time is
right.”

“When is the time right?” Maria asked.

Ten weeks after never.
“When she’s calm. I’ll get her a trip to the spa, some
flowers—”
lots of champagne
“—
and tell her then. For right now...” He mimed locking his lips and
throwing away the key.

The girls mimicked him.

“Good. I want you four to stay upstairs while I
clean the glass up. Stay right here. Do not open the front door. Do
not color on the walls. Do not move things, start fires, or hit
each other. I am not explaining black eyes or ER visits to your
mother tonight.” Or any other night while the absence of the
Morality Machine kept her stuck in the rigid black and white world
that super heroes loved so much.

Chapter Seven

Super heroes make the average person
jealous. The super hero mutation is the full package of charisma
and power. Stunning good looks are standard, and exceptional
strength and stamina are often included. Everyone wants to be
special; it’s ingrained in the human psyche. But there’s a dirty
little secret that everyone leaves out of the pep talks: for you to
be special, everyone else needs to be average.

Special is just another way of saying
freak.

I have no super power of my own. I
don’t fly. My bones break as easily as the next person’s. But I do
have a highly evolved brain, a certain touch of arrogance, and a
naturally persuasive nature even when I’m not augmented by
machines.

I’ve never needed anything
else.

***

Evan sent Hert and two other minions upstairs to
watch the girls while he worked on the broken Morality Machine.
Whatever Blessing had done, she’d done it well. The crystal focus
lay shattered into a few billion pieces, the tubing hung in shreds,
and the magnet that did most of the work had cracked down the
center. He’d spent weeks hunting down the right size magnet to
trigger serotonin and vasopressin production in the female
brain.

Fine-tuning the thing for Tabitha had taken the
whole three-week honeymoon. Death by sex only sounded like a good
idea. In practice, there was too much of a good thing. Especially
if you were out of practice because the only woman in the world you
were interested in was the one who walked away.

“Hert!” he bellowed.

There was a flap of webbed feet on concrete and
his chief minion stood at quavering attention by his side. “Yes,
Master?”

“Do we still have the plans for the original
Morality Machine? I need a list of supplies.”

“We can have most the supplies by the end of the
week, Master. I’ll need to check the specifications for a few
things, and the crystal will take at least two weeks.”

“We don’t have two weeks, Hert. We may not have
two hours.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. An almighty migraine
was coming on. “Who owes us favors?”

“Sir?”

“Is there anyone we could have pick a fight with
Zephyr Girl today? Challenge her to hot dog eating contest or
something?”

Hert’s eyes bulged in shock.

“Scratch that. Get some minions upstairs. The
house needs to be spotless. Everything she’s been asking for in the
past month, find it and get it. New dresses in the closet, new
shoes, go steal a new car if you have to.”

The minion cleared his throat. “Don’t you think,
perhaps, that stealing might make her angrier?”

Evan sighed. “Right. Super hero morals. Wrong,
right, black or white, no happy medium ever. I hate super heroes.
Tabby excepted,” he said before Hert could cut in. “I can do this.
I can do this. Tabby doesn’t know I’m still working as Doctor
Charm. Maybe she won’t notice.” He looked at the shattered image of
him holding his wife. “Let’s pray she doesn’t notice.”

Four hours later, he was sitting in the corner
of his lab, desperate for a long cool drink of something strong. He
wanted Tabitha home, wanted her in his arms and kissing him, but he
was terrified of what would happen when she did. He’d already
packed a bag with the essentials, in case she gave him his marching
orders.

“Daddy!” Blessing screamed from upstairs.
“Mommy’s in a fight!”

Evan whipped around. “Hert?”

“We didn’t schedule anything, Master.”

He took the steps three at a time. “What’s going
on?”

“Mommy’s in a fight,” Maria repeated calmly.

Picking up Maria so he could claim a spot on the
couch, Evan watched as Zephyr Girl whipped around a giant lizard
thing, the unholy offspring of Barney the dinosaur and Godzilla.
Zephyr Girl darted in, pulling a trip wire past the reptilian legs
and dodging a heavy fist.

His heart skipped a beat. Right after Election
Day, he was finishing the body armor he’d planned for her. It
hadn’t seemed necessary when she was a stay-at-home-mom, just kinky
in a fun way.

A heavy green claw swiped downward, and Zephyr
Girl didn’t move fast enough. She bounced off a building, her neck
snapping back.

“Mom!” Delila rushed to the TV screen. Tiny
fingers fanned over the live image of Zephyr Girl plummeting toward
the ground.

“Move back!” Angela ordered, pulling on her
sister’s shirt. “Let me see Mommy.”

“Move, Tabby. Move, baby,” Evan whispered. He
hugged Maria tighter. The TV needed to be off. Now. The girls
shouldn’t watch their mom die. He shouldn’t watch his wife die.
Anger burned through the fear. Whoever created that abomination was
going to pay.

Zephyr Girl somersaulted. A burst of auroras
buffered her feet from the hard cement and she shot back up. Vivid
blue lights burned the sky.

“Yay!” Maria clapped as she bounced on his
leg.

Zephyr Girl did a barrel roll to dodge another
wide-armed punch. In a flare of light, she twisted, swung around,
and punched the monster at supersonic speed. The creature staggered
like an ancient redwood. Buildings shook with its fall and Evan
laughed in relief. How would U.S. Geological Survey classify that
kind of earthquake?

The girls clapped as Zephyr Girl waved for the
cameras. “Nothing to worry about,” she said with a radiant
smile.

Voices overwhelmed the TV and the news crews all
tried to ask questions at once.

“Mommy punched a lizard!” Delila giggled.

“Zephyr Girl!” The Rainbow Dane ran up to the
scene in a sparkling pink cape. “You’re injured!” He posed
dramatically.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Okay, girls. Enough TV.
Let’s go get dinner ready. Mommy will be home soon.”

“Is Mommy hurt?” Blessing asked, trying to peek
around his arm to see the TV as he moved to shut it off.

He glanced at the screen where The Rainbow Dane
was wiping blood off Zephyr Girl’s arm. Right next to the scar he’d
left on her. That armor was getting built tonight. She’d never be
hurt again.

“Mommy’s fine,” he promised, flicking the TV
off. “The Rainbow Dane is helping her out. He’ll wipe out the
scratch, put a smiley face Band-Aid on, and send her straight home.
He’s a good guy, that’s what he does.”

“Who is The Rainbow Dane?” Delila asked.

“Someone who is never coming to dinner,” Evan
muttered.

He stalked off to the kitchen planning to reheat
the spaghetti sauce from the freezer. On an afterthought, he went
to check the Band-Aid supply. It was not a manly, hero-ish supply.
But bravery was certainly involved. Any adult who could walk out
the door with a Pinky the Silly Goose Band-Aid on them without
dying of shame was braver than he.

A quick search of the depths of the bathroom
cabinet gave him three plain bandages of the no-name, store-brand
variety. Much better. Not that anyone would see the bandage because
by tomorrow Zephyr Girl was going out to fight evil in full body
armor. Possibly with flying minions behind her to mop up the
leftovers and deal with tabloid reporters trying to get a shot of
her panties.

He bit his lip. Armor. Morality Machine.
Election rigging.

What he really needed right now was a way to
freeze time. Or a twenty-eight-hour day. Or three of him. As the
spaghetti burned, he doodled out a cloning idea. Three Evans, no,
better make it four. Someone needed to take care of the house. He
sniffed. What was—oh. “Girls? Does anyone want pizza?”

Chapter Eight

Crime really doesn’t pay. At least,
not in a regular weekly paycheck fashion. When I married Tabitha, I
convinced her that I had reformed. She believed me. The Morality
Machine helped matters along, but I made sure I didn’t give her any
reason to be suspicious. That meant finding a job. Or, since it was
simpler, creating a shell company that laundered the money from my
various persuasion schemes and sent me paychecks out of the accrued
interest until that well ran dry.

I freelanced, scaling back my plans
and running a scheme only when our funds dipped into the danger
zone. Little cons that never came up on the radar.

The bank run in China? Not my fault.
And I will deny to my dying day any involvement with that one
bribery scandal in DC. Although it was a clever job, wasn’t
it?

***

Tabitha arrived home as Evan dished out the
delivery pizza. He smiled anxiously, not sure what reception he
would get. “Hey, Tabby, how are you?”

She ran her fingers through wind-tangled hair,
jerking it nervously. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you took a tumble today?” He reached to
help her with her cape.

Tabitha jerked away scowling. “Don’t touch me.
Why is everyone trying to touch me today?”

Evan stepped back with his arms raised. “Sorry.
Do you want me to get you some food?”

“No. I want a shower, and some quiet,
and...space. I just need some space.” She stalked into the bedroom.
The door locked behind her with an ominous click.

He ate dinner with the girls in silence. Tabitha
stayed behind the locked door, coming out in jeans and a tight
T-shirt with a college logo only after he’d sent the girls to get
in pajamas. The T-shirt wasn’t one he recalled seeing in her
wardrobe.

“Here’s your dinner.” He set the plate down in
front of her, leaning in for a kiss.

She turned away, still close enough for him to
feel the heat off her skin, but obviously uninterested.

Evan slid into the seat beside her, resting his
elbows on the table and surreptitiously checking her for bruises.
“Are you wearing a different perfume?” Whatever she had on wasn’t
her usual blend of floral notes.

“Does it matter?” she asked grumpily. She took a
bite of pizza and regarded the slice with disgust. “What is this?
It tastes awful.”

“It’s the pizza we usually get.” Evan picked up
her discarded piece and nibbled. “It tastes fine to me.”

“Why are we eating pizza? I can’t live on junk
food.”

“I burnt the spaghetti,” Evan said. “Pizza was
easier than trying to make a new batch tonight.”

She dropped her fists to her lap with a glare.
“You burnt spaghetti? How? What kind of idiot burns spaghetti
sauce?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Tabitha?”
Name-calling was new. Even before the Morality Machine, she hadn’t
lashed out like that when she was angry.

The look of disgust transferred to him. “Tabitha
what? What excuse are you going to make this time? I’m sure it’s
perfect. Choreographed and rehearsed. Everyone always has excuses,
and you know what that means? More work me. Why are you doing this
to me?” She slammed her chair back, rocking the table as she stood
up. “Every time I turn around there’s another lie. Tell me, was
anything you said true? Ever?”

“I love you.”

Tabitha stood up, tears in her eyes. “No. You
don’t.” She fled into the bedroom, locking the door behind her
again.

Angela peeked around the corner, a stuffed cat
clutched in her arms. “Daddy?”

Pulling his emotions under tight control, Evan
turned to his daughter. “Hmmm?”

“Why is Mommy yelling?”

“She’s just tired,” Evan said with a sigh.
“She’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

“Are you going to ground her for yelling? You
ground me,” Angela reminded him helpfully.

“Mommy’s a little too big for grounding. I’m
going to...” He looked around. “Do the dishes. Mop the floor.
General cleaning type of things. Are you girls ready for bedtime
stories?”