Supervillainess (Part One) (6 page)

She sighed noisily.

“You may be two kinds of crazy, but you
somehow influenced my father to talk,” he added. “Even if I wanted
to leave you on the rooftop for endangering him, I couldn’t,
because helping you is the right thing to do.”

“I want my mask,” she said.

“I don’t care.”

Reader rested against his chest as he
carried her. She breathed in his scent, a combination of toothpaste
and oak. Unaccustomed to being vulnerable or dependent upon anyone
else for any amount of time, she found it harder to stay awake than
it should have been. But something told her if there was anyone she
could trust, it was probably the do-good son of a retired
superhero.

“Remember to lock the door,” she told him as
she slid into unconsciousness.

His response was lost on her, and she sank
into peaceful slumber.

When Reader awoke, daylight stung her eyes.
The sun had maneuvered through the blinds to torment her, and she
shrank away from the light before realizing what it meant that she
could see.

She was alive.

Uncertain whether to be disappointed or
encouraged, she pushed herself up enough to survey her
surroundings.

Still in this shit
hole,
she thought. Her gaze settled on the
muscular form of Kimber stretched on the floor in the space between
boxes and futon. His guests were stirring in the other rooms of the
apartment, but he snored softly, oblivious to any kind of danger
that might kill him where he lay.

By her sluggish mind and inability to hear
his thoughts, the damn doctor had drugged her again. Reader tested
her body. The pain was minimal, and her bleeding had stopped. She
wasn’t healing anywhere near as fast as she should have, and she
rested back, wracking her groggy mind to figure out why.

Thinking was a wasted effort with her senses
dulled. She started to drift into sleep once more before rousing
herself again. Not only was she in an apartment full of strangers,
but she was unarmed, and her makeshift mask was nowhere in sight.
By now, her brother would be searching for her. It was understood
if no body turned up, then the person was not officially dead.
Regaining her strength, and not being caught off guard, were both
imperatives if she was going to survive the games her father had
sanctioned and become his heir.

Reader sat and then stood. She felt even
weaker than she had the day before. Had her brother laced his
weapons with poison?

She took a step and balanced herself then
took another.

She smashed to the ground, on top of Kimber.
Her fall across him caused him to jerk awake, and the doctor raised
his head to peer around him, dazed.

“Your reflexes are worse than your carpet,”
she said acidly, wondering how either of them were still alive when
half the city was hunting for her and this man had the
self-awareness of a rock.

Kimber sighed and shifted to help her right
herself.

Irritated by his constant chivalry, Reader
pushed his hands away and struggled into a sitting position, back
propped up by the futon.

“You need to rest,” he said grumpily.

“There’s an aging superhero in the house who
has every right to murder me in my sleep, and a villain loose in
town who will do anything to slaughter me and anyone with me.”

“It’s too early for this shit.”

“You fool. You’re in the
presence of the next supervillain … no,
supervillainess
in charge of the
city. A little respect is due,” she snapped, offended.

Kimber rose without responding and
automatically leaned down to help her back onto the bed. She tried
to wriggle free, but he was unusually strong. She ended up seated
on the bed she had been trying to flee.

“Does the supervillainess drink coffee?” he
asked. He straightened, hair ruffled charmingly from sleeping on
the floor. “Or maybe just the blood of her enemies?”

“Either.”

He shook his head and started towards the
door.

“Hey, Doc, can you close the blinds?” she
asked, squinting towards them again.

“Normally I would. But after what you did to
my father, fuck no.”

“Villains are allergic to the sun,” she
pressed. “You clearly feel morally obligated to help me. Do you
want my skin to boil and melt before you’ve had a chance to heal
me?”

Kimber gazed at her for a moment. The good
doctor finally crossed to the window.

Humans are so
predictable,
she thought, pleased she
wouldn’t have to waste her energy on reaching the
blinds.

Grasping the cord to the shades, he pulled
it down, exposing her to full sunlight.

Reader gasped and snatched the blanket
nearest her. She yanked it over her head.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it fast!
Don’t let me melt!” she cried.

“Are villains supposed to be divas?” Kimber
demanded and pulled at the blanket.

She fought back. “I’m dying!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He yanked the blanket
off her.

Reader froze, cowered and squeezed her eyes
closed, waiting for the excruciating pain to come.

None did.

“Imagine that. You’re still alive,” Kimber
said, entirely too satisfied for her liking.

She opened one eye then the other. She had
never stepped out in daylight, because villains were nocturnal by
nature. The sun was intense – but it wasn’t hurting her.

“I don’t understand,” she said and uncurled
from her defensive position. Her father had warned her and her
brother both about being caught outside during daylight.

“You’re an alleged supervillainess, not a
vampire.” Kimber gave her a knowing look then went to the door.

“Maybe I’m becoming invincible,” she said,
perking up. “Think of how I can expand my domain if I can operate
in daylight as well as night.”

“Can we dial back the crazy a little?”
Kimber asked with a sigh. “Stay in here and keep quiet. I’ll bring
you coffee in a bit.”

Reader marveled at the shade of her skin in
direct sunlight. Dust danced in the beams stretching across the
floor, and gentle warmth warded off the chill of the air
conditioning. When she was certain the sun wasn’t going to melt
her, she relaxed and sat back, tilting her head towards the light
and closing her eyes.

The sounds of muffled voices came from the
living room. Otherwise, the guest bedroom was quiet, comfortable
and bright.

And smelling of moldy carpet. Her nose
wrinkled. Unwilling to let her guard down or fall asleep with so
many strangers nearby, Reader climbed out of bed and walked
precariously to the boxes on the other side of the room. She had
already found their contents to be valuable, especially those in
the box containing climbing rope.

“Need to be ready to fight,” she murmured
and began pulling rock-climbing equipment from the box. Kimber had
anchors, grapples, clips, and more rope – everything she needed to
escape, if she had to. “Ahhh excellent.” She pulled a small hunting
knife from the box and unsheathed it. The blade was flawless and
polished. If it were hers, its pristine condition would stem from
care. But given it belonged to the doctor, she assumed he had never
used it after purchasing it.

She added rope and a bungee cord to her pile
before shifting to the next box. She rifled through the clothing
inside, selected two more black t-shirts, and added them to her
pile before moving on.

The third box had been sealed with several
layers of duct tape, as if Kimber did not want whatever was inside
ever to escape. Reader sliced through the layers of tape and opened
the box.

Framed pictures, a scrapbook, his medical
degree, and other memorabilia filled this box.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said,
eager to discover the doctor’s weaknesses, in case he tried to
ransom her back to her father. She pulled out the scrapbook with a
grimace. Someone had constructed layers of hearts and glued them
over the original cover.

Reader opened it.

“Suzanne Ann Miller loves
Kimber Jonathan Wellington
,” she read on
the front page. “Wellington. Mister Wellington. Doctor Wellington,
I presume. Please bring me some tea,” she said in her best attempt
at mimicking an English accent before turning the page. “Awww look
at these sickening pictures.” She rolled her eyes at the
photographs then almost laughed at the captions.

The day we met. We were
destined to be,
claimed the first. The
lovers were sharing a milkshake and beaming.

“How’d that work out for you, Doc and
Suzanne?” Reader asked with a shake of her head. “Did the Milkshake
of Destiny do as foretold in the prophecy of Disney-propagated
bullshit?”

“You just can’t sit still and keep your
hands to yourself!” Kimber’s quiet rebuke and entrance made her
look up. He snatched the scrapbook out of her hands. “Here. Eat
this.”

She eyed the muffin. “What’s in it?
Poison?”

“It’s a vegan, non-GMO, gluten free, organic
chocolate muffin.”

Reader accepted it with a scowl. “How is
that considered food? There’s nothing substantial in it,” she
complained.

Kimber gave her a mug of coffee next and she
peered into it.

“Is this free range coffee?” she asked
sarcastically. “I don’t know if I can drink it, if the beans were
subjected to cages.”

“For someone who’s nearly bled to death
every day I’ve known her, you really don’t have a clue how to be
grateful someone cares, do you?” he snapped.

She glanced up, hearing the tension in his
tone. He was upset. With her mindreading skills disabled, she
couldn’t tell why, but the signs were unmistakable. The skin around
his eyes and mouth were tight, his brow was low and his jaw
clenched.

“Looks like I’m not your biggest problem
today,” she observed and placed her breakfast on the floor with
unsteady hands.

Kimber’s intent gaze turned to her. He
looked ready to say something when someone pushed the door
open.

“Kimber.” A pretty brunette was in the
doorway. Her eyes fell to Reader. “Shouldn’t she be in the
hospital?”

“I can’t use my superpowers in the hospital,
because of the drugs,” Reader said solemnly. “Hey, aren’t you the
girl from the scrap-”

“It’s a long story,” Kimber interjected. He
slid the scrapbook behind his back. “She has special needs, and we
ran out of bed space.”

That’s the worst lie I’ve
ever heard,
Reader thought.

Suzanne didn’t look convinced either.

“The psych ward has the smallest amount of
beds in any department,” he added, deepening the hole he was
digging.

“If you’re seeing someone, just tell me,”
Suzanne replied quietly. “It’s been a year. It doesn’t have to be
weird.”

Reader was quiet, curious about the two.
Kimber appeared at a loss for words. Though Suzanne tried to smile,
it was clear she was devastated by whatever had happened.
Devastated and … something else. Reader strained to hear the
woman’s thoughts but was forced to rely on instinct instead.

“She’s right, Kimber. She’s moved on. You
should, too,” Reader said wisely.

Suzanne’s eyes widened.

“No more of this.” Reader pulled fuzzy pink
handcuffs from the box. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Doc.”

Kimber snatched the handcuffs. “Suzanne, we
should talk elsewhere. My patient needs some time to rest.” He shot
Reader a look.

She rolled her eyes.

They left the room, and Reader returned to
her exploration. Her treasure hunt was turning up more than she
anticipated, though nothing indicating what the doctor’s
potentially nefarious motivations for helping her might be.

Reader went through his various awards, from
recognition as a football player in high school and college, to the
accolades he earned in medical school. Family photos made up the
rest of the contents.

Disappointed not to find what she sought,
Reader moved onto the next box. This one contained medical
schoolbooks, as did the next several.

She hunted through his belongings for
several hours, until the caffeine from her coffee wore off, and she
started to become drowsy. Double-checking the window to ensure he
hadn’t uprooted her nails, she stretched out on the futon with a
sigh, prepared to sleep the afternoon away.

Just as she began to doze, the door
opened.

Reader tensed. Kimber entered carrying a
sandwich and bottle of juice on a small plate. His glance went over
the opened boxes and her pile, but he said nothing about them.

“I need to check your bandages,” he said and
sat on the box beside the bed.

“They’re fine.”

“You’re not the doctor here.”

Reader rolled her eyes and tugged her shirt
up. Her bandages had bled through.

Kimber shook his head.

“Are your visitors gone?” she asked,
listening for voices.

“Yeah.” He carefully peeled the gauze off
her stomach. “You scared them.”

“Good.”

He snorted, a trace of a smile on his
features.

“I’m not healing fast enough,” Reader said,
frowning at the gunshot wounds.

“You heal faster than anyone I’ve ever
seen.”

“I have accelerated healing ability. I
should be on my feet and fine by now.”

“Let me guess. Because you’re a
villain.”

“Super-
villain. In training.”

He glanced at her face, down then back.
“What is all this talk about villains?” he asked finally. “Everyone
in Sand City is obsessed with them.”

“Every major city has a super community,”
she replied.

“Um, no they don’t.”

“They’re underground. Sand City is the only
place where it’s not a secret. We crossed the gray long ago.”