The Rise of Renegade X (30 page)

“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
V
s.

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.”

“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.”

“Maybe she just liked me better.”

He kicks me in the ribs. Maybe I should learn to keep my mouth shut, but it’s hard when Pete keeps spouting off nonsense.

“If she liked you so much,” he says, “why did she agree to come to your room with me at your party?
Your
party, Damien, at your house. Guess you weren’t keeping her as satisfied as you thought, ’cause it was
her
idea to do it on your bed.”

“Shut up!” I get to my feet, blood rushing to my head. I feel my ears get hot and my whole face feels like it’s on fire. My wounds flare up, but I’m too busy thinking about how I’m going to kill Pete to notice. “That’s not what happened.”

“Not what she
told
you.”

“I trust her more than you.”

“You think she’s going to tell you the truth? She wanted to go all the way, man. If you hadn’t walked in on us …” Pete smirks and shrugs. “Maybe if she hadn’t been so into it, she wouldn’t have been startled when you opened the door. She wouldn’t have changed back to herself, and you wouldn’t have ever known. Maybe it wasn’t our first time, either—you ever think of that?”

I kick him really hard in the shins and pull my arm back, but Pete’s too fast. He ducks before I can make contact. He grabs my arm and wrenches it behind me. I feel him pry my thumb out so he can see it. “So it’s true,” he says. “Damien Locke’s only
half
a villain.”

I struggle against him, but he twists my arm until I’m afraid it’s going to break.

“Watch it, hypocrite,” he says. “You didn’t see me not being your friend when you took Kat from me. But the same thing happens to you, and suddenly we’re enemies. It was her decision, too, not just mine. And now, get this, you’re the son of a freaking
superhero.”
He spits on the floor after saying it. He pushes me forward, into the hallway and not toward the front door. I get the feeling he’s not “showing me out.”

“Kat knows what I am,” I say. “She loves me anyway. We’re having a pirate wedding and you’re not invited. And if you’re lucky, I won’t send you an invitation.”

Pete slams his hand into my back, knocking my breath out of my lungs. “Yeah, she really loves you—that’s why she was at my place the other night, begging all the guys to take her into the bedroom.”

I kick at Pete, but I miss and he grabs my hair and jerks my head back. He pulls so hard that my eyes water.

“And next year,” he says, “it’ll be me and her at Vilmore. What do you think’s going to happen without you there every day to remind her not to screw other guys?”

“You’re dead, Pete. I hope you know that.”

He laughs and opens a door. He shoves me into the room and slams the door behind me. I hear a key turn in the lock. “We’ll see about that. If everything works out for me tonight, I’ll be back. I still owe you, Damien—don’t think we’re squared up just yet.”