Even Villains Go To The Movies (8 page)

“What home?” Rage shot him a triumphant smile that dared him to keep the game up as his muscles spasmed around the break.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he asked, “Haven’t you got one?”

“Why do you ask?” Rage stood and brushed dirt from her black jeans.

He stood too, wincing as he tested his knee. “What are you driving at?”

“What’s your name?”

He smirked at her. “Repetition. Two-love. Match point.”

Rage stepped closer. “Who do you think you are?”

“Rhetoric. Game and match.” He took her hand back. “A kiss for the winner?”

“I don’t remember that part of the play.”

“I’m improvising.” Arktos brushed a stray hair back from her eyes. It felt like a wig, and the too-blue-to-be-true eyes were probably contacts. He couldn’t bring himself to care. She’d been there to defend him. He traced her jaw line. “A kiss for the winner.”

“Who won?”

“Does it matter?” he whispered, leaning forward.

She met him halfway.

Arktos slid his free hand behind Rage’s neck as she pressed against him. He ran his tongue across her lips and they parted, inviting him in.

Her hands rested on his shoulder, fingers kneading the muscle as she pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Arktos slid his hand under her jacket, feeling the sweat of the hot night and the thin layer of silk between him and her skin. He slanted his mouth, taking more. Demanding more.

She tasted of lime and vanilla, an exotic confection meant for him alone.

With a little gasp she pushed away. Her eyes were wide, her breath coming rapidly, cheeks flushed as if they’d done more than kiss. She shook her head to clear it, then came back to him.

Her kiss was desperate and raw, as though she could steal his soul and all the secrets of the universe with a touch of her lips.

Arktos leaned against the hot bricks behind him and lifted her, needing to feel the weight of her. Their tongues met again and this time he felt her control slip. It started as a strange warmth on his arms where skin touched skin, gliding over him until he was caught in a torrent of emotions. He felt her hunger for more, loneliness mixed with lust, desire warring with fear.

He pulled her tight against his chest in an attempt to comfort her. The need to protect her and drive away those fears was almost stronger than the need to know every inch of her. Almost.

But not here. They had to go somewhere quiet. Somewhere private. Not home, he thought as she bit his lip and slipped out of his hands.

Cold surrounded him as she withdrew. “Rage?” He held out a hand, inviting her back.

She stepped back, shaking her head. “No. No. It ends here.”

“Ends?” He pushed away from the wall and pursued her. “What do you mean it ends here? We’ve only just started.”

“This... Us? We are a bad idea. This can’t happen.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “We can’t be together.”

“I don’t understand. Why not?”

She licked her lips, eyes drowning him with regret. “You can’t give me what I want.”

All the air left his lungs. You aren’t what I want. His mother had used those words again, and again, and again. Go away. I don’t want you. A rhythm as familiar as his own heartbeat. “What do you want?”

“A family. A husband, some kids, maybe not the white picket fence or a farm, but I want a family and you work for The Company. I can’t be with you for the same reason I can’t sign with them. I’d have to give up all I ever wanted, and I won’t.” She tugged at the edges of her trench coat, wrapping it around herself. “I’m sorry.”

Arktos stared, trying to bring his defenses back up. “Kids? Isn’t...” He took a deep breath, feeling his muscles mend and his heart break. “You know you can’t, don’t you? That’s why it’s part of The Company contracts. All superheroes are sterile. The same mutation that allows me to fly makes it so I can’t father children.”

She rolled her eyes. “What utter bunk.”

“Bunk?”

“Southern Ladies don’t swear.” She took a tentative step toward him, hand reaching out to caress his arm. “Superheroes can have babies.”

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “I wish we could, but every one who’s tried has died or been unable to conceive.”

“That’s not true.”

“Do you have proof?” Every nerve was alive with the need to remove the space between them and kiss her again.

“I have proof.”

Rage kissed him, and he tasted the salt of her tears. He let her go.

“My name is Angela. I’m the oldest of five children, and my daddy is a super villain.”

Chapter Ten

Dear Mom,

What did Maria do? I’ve read your email twice and I think you let Gideon encrypt it because there’s no way Maria has given up being the evil overlord of South America to work for the U.S. Forestry Service. Things like that don’t happen in the rational world. Granted, my world has been less than rational lately, but that’s because I gave up all pretense of having a brain and moved to California to work in Hollywood!

That came out wrong.

I’m happy here, really. Everyone is very friendly and the job isn’t bad. There are worse jobs. I miss teaching. I miss feeling like I contributed something good to society. But I pay my rent and, for some reason, I have fans. I hope they’re normal people and not...well...never mind. Least said soonest mended.

Your daughter who would prefer not to be a sex object,

Angela

Some flight of insanity had suggested that a run after Angela woke up would make everything better. Never mind the heat index of 105, or the ninety percent humidity, or the fact that she was supposed to be shooting night scenes for
Fractured
all week and should sleep until five.

No, she’d woken up at eleven and gone for a run.

At least the cop car that had been trailing her had finally turned off. The poor officer was probably worried that she was going to get heatstroke, which wasn’t actually that farfetched an assumption, Angela thought as sweat dripped down her face. But half a mile ahead she could see the twinkling gem that was her destination: Cupcakes, a teeny tiny little building with a vacant lot next door that had been turned into an urban garden. It was the home of blackberry-lime cupcakes and worth the five mile run each way.

Angela put on one last burst of speed as the song “I Am Not That Girl” by the Brutal Cheerleaders started
. I am not that girl. I can’t be the one you want. I’ll never fall that far. I am not that girl.

Reaching Cupcakes, Angela paused to wipe the worst of the sweat off her face with her shirt, then opened the door and walked into the arctic chill of the bakery. The sharp contrast from the heat rose goosebumps on her skin, and tempting vanilla scented the air. It was a little piece of heaven, and for the moment it was all hers; the two small tables near the front window didn’t exactly invite customers to linger. Angela pulled out her earbuds as the bell over the door jangled again. “A blackberry-lime and some water from the tap, please,” Angela told the girl at the counter.

“Blackberry-lime and ice water,” said a deep voice from behind her.

“Right.” The girl stared, fingers hovering over the register.

Angela turned and looked up at Tyler Running Fox. He glanced at her and dismissed her without recognition. Angela suppressed an eye roll and turned back to the shop girl, still frozen in place. “Cupcakes?” Angela prompted.

“Uh-huh.” The girl blinked rapidly. “Is that Tyler Running Fox?”

“No, it’s Harry Dresden,” Angela snapped. “Can I have my cupcake, please?” She rubbed at the goosebumps that still prickled her arms.

“Sure.” Abruptly, the girl remembered how to use the cash register and rang them up as the same order.

Angela tried to catch her eye to say something, but the girl was staring open-mouthed at Ty again. Grudgingly, Angela slapped a twenty down. “Keep the change.” Not that there was much. They were not cheap cupcakes. She could probably make a batch for the price of one if she wanted to, but that would require complicated equipment like muffin tins and a citrus zester. Cookies were easier.

Tyler stood by the door, staring out the window but not seeming to look at anything in particular. The area was full of tiny bookstores, art galleries, and eateries started by people with a bit of seed money and whole lot of dreams. It was hard to picture Tyler in that crowd. If he had dreams, they were the kind where he debated what country he wanted to buy when he filmed his next movie.

“Can I have my water?” Angela asked. The girl blushed and hurried away. Angela picked up the spare cupcake and walked over to Ty. “Here.” From her earbuds the Brutal Cheerleaders crescendoed into the chorus
: I am not that girl. I am not the woman in your dreams. I am not the one holding on. I am not that girl.

He glanced down at her with a frown.

She rubbed her arm again as she waited for him to match her face to the one he’d almost kissed on the movie set.

“Thanks.” He nodded at her earbuds. “You’ve got good taste in music.”

“Um, thanks.” Angela wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe a, “Hi, AJ.” Or a smile. Recognition, at least. Shaking it off, she grabbed her water and stepped back into the all-embracing warmth of the L.A. sunshine and smog. Heat kissed her skin.

Basking in the warmth, she sipped her water and devoured her cupcake. Angela tossed the wrapper into the little garden next to the shop, where the seeds pressed into the paper lining would become another round of cheerful, heat-resistant flowers. The orchids were her favorite.

After one last sip of water, she dumped the rest over her head and tossed the cup in the recycling bin. A stray thought tickled her senses; someone was watching her intently. She looked around, but saw only Ty, standing in the window, nibbling at his cupcake. Weird.

By the time she arrived home her legs were shaking and the cupcake just a memory.

Mia and Aaron glanced up from the front step of the apartments where they were reading their textbooks. “Hey,” Mia said. “How was your run?”

“Good.” She sat down next to them. “Homework? Isn’t school out yet?”

“Two more weeks,” Mia said.

Aaron grumbled, “Finals.”

“Can you help us? The teacher told us to read Chapters seventeen and eighteen because they’re on the final, but we haven’t covered them in class yet.”

“It makes no sense,” Aaron said. “All I see are letters.”

Angela nodded. “Yeah, let me get a quick shower.”

“Real quick,” Aaron pleaded. “My brother is coming in an hour.”

She nodded again. “The fastest shower ever.” And it was. The water heater was broken for the third time this month but the pipes weren’t well buried, so the water was still warm enough. She raked a brush through her wet hair, pulled on the first shirt and shorts she could find, and dashed back downstairs.

Mia giggled. “Nice shirt.”

Angela glanced down at the white tee that had ZEPHYR GIRL emblazoned on it in sparkling blue letters. “What? It was my mom’s. I like it.”

“Help!” Aaron shoved his book at her. “What is this supposed to mean?”

They were still working on Chapter seventeen when Aaron’s brother roared up the street on his bike. Aaron groaned. “I gotta go. He has to work tonight. Can I come back for Chapter eighteen? Please?”

“Yeah, I should be around this weekend.” Angela smiled fondly at him and handed the book over. “Call Mia and she can get a hold of me.”

Aaron shoved his books carelessly in his bag and put on his helmet. “Bye, Mia!”

“Bye!”

Aaron’s brother waved too.

***

“Get a shower,” Arktos said, tossing Aaron’s bag against the wall. “I have work to do.” Aaron ran off upstairs as Arktos plucked old binders from the bookcase. Every superhero started their career by interning at the main offices on the east coast; he’d gone to NYU on their dime and worked at the offices scanning copies and filing paperwork in his free time. It would have been mind-numbing if the subject hadn’t fascinated him: the whole history of superpower mutations had been collated in the four years he’d been there. He’d read about the first superpowers, about the heroes and the villains, about the ones that got away and the ones who were laid to rest in a quiet cemetery outside the city.

During his last semester, Katrina, the Company boss, made the move to a paperless office. He’d been in charge of shredding everything. The binders he retrieved now were filled with the papers that had escaped the purge, mostly original profiles handwritten by the heroes he’d always admired. He set them on the table and flipped through the binder full of villains.

My daddy is a super villain
.

Males and females alike stared back at him as he turned the pages. They weren’t ugly, per se—the mutation seemed to grant good looks to most of them—but none looked like the kind of person you’d call ‘Daddy.’

And then there was the other thing: most people didn’t introduce themselves as the oldest unless they’d grown up with siblings. Most. It was a gamble, but something about the way Rage had said it made him think she’d grown up in a nuclear family. That was her dream after all: mom, dad, the kids, maybe a dog.

The water shut off upstairs, and he considered her accusation that The Company was lying about children. Having Aaron around was already violating part of his contract. But what else was he supposed to do? Grandma could barely take care of herself, and Aaron was always getting into fights or ditching school. Moving him off the reservation to a private school in L.A. had made sense.

At least it had when he’d moved Aaron out two years ago. Since his little brother insisted on getting kicked out of every school in a thirty-mile radius, his prospects had dwindled to a single over-crowded public school on the poor end of town.

Aaron fit in perfectly. They’d grown up poor.

And letting him date Mia seemed to be a good choice so far. Mia was a level-headed kid and her tutor...

Arktos took a deep breath and rubbed his still-tender ribs. He’d almost driven straight past Mia’s house because all he’d seen were long tan legs in too-short shorts. With her hair wet like she’d just stepped out of the shower, his mind had gone from brotherly concern for Aaron to tallying up his ten best pickup lines. And then swung straight to guilt, because he was mentally cheating on Rage, who didn’t want him anyway.