Constance Verity Saves the World Read online

  “You’d be surprised. If you’re trying to forge a cursed artifact, you have to curse it yourself. Otherwise, it’s a dead giveaway.”

  “That makes a surprising amount of sense, though I would think you’d get rid of it. Just to be safe.”

  “I’ve tried. It keeps coming back.”

  The bug-eyed idol stared at Dana. “Can I at least turn it around?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Dana turned the hideous thing the other direction. A tremor shook the building. The rumble grew in intensity. Connie grabbed her glass as it rattled its way to the edge of the coffee table.

  “All right, already.” Dana turned the idol back around, and the tremors ceased. “Temperamental, isn’t it?” She glanced across the shelves. “Are all these things cursed?”

  “About a third. Another third are enchanted.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Excalibur makes you King of England,” she said. “The cursed Muramasa blade makes you an invincible warrior but demands you take a life a day.”

  Dana pulled her hand away from the ancient Japanese sword on Connie’s shelf. “Oh.”

  “I should probably organize them better,” admitted Connie.

  “You’re going to run out of room,” said Dana.

  “I give most of them away eventually or put them in storage.”

  “You shouldn’t be living in an apartment, anyway,” said Dana. “You should get a house. You’re rich. Why not move into a manor? Or a penthouse condo?”

  “I like having a small place,” replied Connie.

  “That’s great for you,” said Dana, “but what about later?”

  The word later hung in the air. Dana was Byron’s sister, but there were times she was more like his mother. It might’ve been because their actual mother had died years before or because Dana had fixed Connie and Byron up in the first place. Or Dana was a busybody who knew what was best for everybody, even if she was subtler than most busybodies. Connie had learned to ignore it, and Dana was usually polite enough to allow it. Usually.

  “You can’t raise a family in this place,” said Dana. “You can’t childproof a room full of cursed artifacts.”

  “I grew up around stuff like this.”

  “But you’re you. You’re designated to deal with it, aren’t you? I’m talking about normal children.”

  Connie didn’t want to have this conversation. She checked the time. Byron wasn’t due for another half hour.

  “I should really get ready.” She had no official plans, but maybe Dana would catch the hint.

  She sat on the couch. “I love my brother, Connie. And I like you. But have you thought about where this is going?”

  “No.”

  Connie hoped the brusque reply would deter Dana, but she was a juggernaut of sisterly concern and friendly advice. Once she got going, the only option was to step aside or get run over.

  “The life you live, it’s complicated. What about kids? If you and Byron settle down and decide to have children, how do you hope to manage that, living like you do? Hard to be a mom when you’re off visiting the moons of Atlantis or busting ghosts.”

  “No offense, Dana, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Byron is my business. I just want to make sure you’re doing right by him.”

  “That’s up to Byron, isn’t it?”

  Dana chuckled with a touch of condescension. “My brother doesn’t always know what’s best for him. That’s why I have to watch out for him. And I’m hoping you do too.”

  “Do you want us to break up?” asked Connie.

  “I never said that. I like you two together, and it’s obvious Byron likes you a lot. But there are things he wants that I worry you won’t be able to give him.”

  “Has he said anything?”

  “Oh, no. He doesn’t like to talk to me about stuff like that. I don’t know why.”

  Maybe because Dana always knew better. She was confident in her opinions of how everyone should live their lives.

  But it didn’t mean she was wrong this time.

  Dana said, “Well, I have to get going. Theater tickets.”

  “You’re not dressed for the theater.”

  “Underground theater,” replied Dana, using her fingers as quotation marks. “Whatever the hell that means.”

  Dana’s hipster artist boyfriend wasn’t the type of guy Connie would imagine Dana belonged with, but somehow, they made it work.

  “God, I hope it’s not a one-man show,” said Dana.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I didn’t have the courage to ask. Wish me luck.”

  “Can do. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

  Dana left, and Connie took a shower while waiting for Byron.

  She pondered her limits. She was capable of so much, but she tried envisioning herself with a husband and kids, a house in the suburbs, a dog that barked too much, waging a never-ending battle with the homeowners’ association over the color of her mailbox. Off-white was close enough to eggshell that they should mind their own goddamn business.

  The absurdity of such a simple thing being out of her reach almost amused her.

  When she was younger, she’d thought about having children. At twenty-six, there’d been a king who had wanted to make her his queen. She’d almost taken him up on it, but then the grand vizier had betrayed the kingdom, killing the king in an attempt to steal the throne. Connie had killed the vizier, restoring justice and claiming her revenge, but that had been the day she’d decided certain choices just weren’t hers to make.

  She couldn’t scale mountains or fight mutants while pregnant, and she doubted the universe would be kind enough to give her a nine-month adventuring sabbatical. She could always adopt, but how many moments would she miss while out there saving the world? First steps, birthdays, and school plays.

  “Sorry, honey, Mommy couldn’t make your graduation, because she was keeping serpent men from bringing forth their mad snake god. Have a card and a hundred bucks instead.”

  She’d made the cosmic forces that controlled her life more manageable, but they were still a factor. She’d made peace with certain sacrifices, and she’d never considered certain choices. She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids, but it wasn’t only about her now. It was also about Byron. They hadn’t talked about it yet. Weird. They’d been together long enough for the topic to come up unless they were both avoiding it.

  They were going to have to talk about it at some point. That and other things that made her uncomfortable, a dozen conversational minefields where one wrong step could cause the entire relationship to self-destruct.

  She stepped out of the shower, slipped on her shirt while drying her hair. She heard Byron rustling around in the kitchen. He was early.

  She heard a dish break. Then another. Then something slam and some gruff voices.

  It wasn’t Byron.

  She did not have time for this tonight.

  She stepped out of the hall to see a muscular goon in a tight suit rifling through her kitchen cabinets. She cleared her throat.

  “Something I can maybe help you with?”

  The snarling muscle shoved her into the living room. A mobster in an Armani suit sat in one of her chairs. He removed his hat and ran his fingers along the brim. “Please, have a seat.”

  “I’ll stand, thanks.” Connie toweled her hair. The goon put a hand on her shoulder, but his boss shook his head.

  “As you wish.”

  The goon grunted, folding his thick arms across his chest. She had trouble telling what regular people found scary. Bloodthirsty hopping vampires and giant robots were obvious. Tough guys who relied on scowls and attitudes were a little more nebulous. This one probably assumed she felt exposed, having just stepped out of the shower and not wearing pants.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  The boss smiled. “To the point. I like that. I’d like to think we can handle this with civility. Nobody n
eeds to get hurt as long as we understand—”

  “Oh, Christ,” she said. “You’re one of those verbose, civilized gangsters, aren’t you? The kind that loves his own voice and likes to talk around his actual threats.”

  The boss frowned. “I don’t think you understand—”

  “No, you don’t understand.” She tossed her towel across a chair and considered taking out the goon. She didn’t need the hassle. “I have company coming over. So, just tell me what you want so we can get this over with.”

  The mobster and his goon exchanged glances.

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” she asked.

  “Sure, I do,” said the boss. “You’re the lady who has my diamonds.”

  “Diamonds, huh. Let me guess. Through circumstances too complicated to get into, you hid a fortune in stolen diamonds in something I just happened to pick up somewhere.”

  “Yes, my men were fleeing from the authorities and—”

  “Don’t care. Don’t need to know. Under normal circumstances, I’d see that you were all foiled and brought to justice, but this will probably be faster if I just give you what you want.”

  The gangsters had hidden the precious gems in a velvet purse. Not hers. She didn’t own a purse. She didn’t ponder how this one had come, unknown, into her possession and under her sink. Things like this fell into her lap regularly. She’d gotten into the habit of checking her grocery bags for loose relics and other bric-a-brac.

  She checked the velvet bag, full of diamonds.

  “If you would be so kind . . . ,” said the gangster boss.

  Connie offered the bag but didn’t drop it in the goon’s callused palm.

  She said, “I do have to ask. These are just diamonds, right? They’re not cursed or something weird like that? You’re not planning on using them to power a doomsday machine? You just want them for their monetary value?”

  The boss said, “What other value is there?”

  She tried and failed to assess his trustworthiness. He was a bad guy, but a greedy bad guy wasn’t that big a deal. If he was working for an evil sorcerer or mad scientist or something else like that, she might as well nip this in the bud now.

  Not all of the adventures her destiny sent her way were life-or-death. She saved the world too often, but she didn’t save it every week. Sometimes, she just foiled petty crimes and million-dollar jewel heists. Sometimes, she simply happened to be in the right place at the right time to give a lost extraterrestrial directions to the other side of the galaxy.

  The goon grabbed her wrist and squeezed painfully. She dropped the bag into his hand as he grinned menacingly. She should’ve knocked him out, but she was still hoping to resolve this quickly.

  “You have what you came for,” she said. “You can feel free to leave now.”

  The goon tossed the bag to his boss, who inspected them again. “Your cooperation has been greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, you know too much.”

  She sighed. “You don’t want to do this.”

  He unbuttoned his jacket and withdrew a revolver. “It’s nothing personal.”

  “Funny,” she replied. “I was about to say the same thing.”

  She twisted, using her knowledge of the secrets of the Shaolin masters to pull the goon in front of her. The boss’s bullets struck the goon in the chest, and Connie shoved him into his boss. They toppled backward over the chair. While the boss struggled to free himself from his thug, Connie disarmed him. She sat, pointing the weapon at the boss.

  “You just had to be an asshole,” she said. “I mean, I would’ve tracked you down eventually and taken the diamonds back, but you had to force the issue.”

  “We can make a deal,” he said from the floor, underneath his dying goon.

  “No deals. I’m calling an ambulance. Then I’m calling the cops. And that’s that. My whole evening, gone up in smoke because you didn’t take the time to do an Internet search. I’m not exactly a household name, but I have a goddamn Wikipedia page. One thug? I’d be insulted, except that you’re obviously not very bright.”

  She called the authorities and checked the thug’s wounds. They were bloody, but with some first aid and basic acupuncture she’d picked up somewhere (she’d actually forgotten where), she was able to stop the bleeding. He’d live.

  While inserting a needle into a nerve cluster and holding her gun on the boss with her other hand, she cradled the phone between her cheek and neck and waited for Byron to pick up.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Would you be terribly upset if we rescheduled tonight?” she said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she replied. “Just something came up. You know how it is.”

  “Do you need to leave town?”

  The boss thought to take her out while her back was turned. She coldcocked him with a spinning kick to the nose. He knocked over a lamp, but she caught it just before it hit the floor.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Byron.

  She should’ve just told him, but she didn’t. She didn’t know why.

  “I’m just tired,” she said. “You know how it is.”

  “I know,” he said, but there was a tone she didn’t like.

  “You’re not mad, are you?” she asked.

  “Why should I be mad? I’m ten minutes from your place, and you’re canceling on me. Again.”

  “I don’t cancel that often,” she said. “It never bothered you before.”

  She waited for him to say something. He didn’t. The silence across the phone felt like a gulf she couldn’t cross. Worse, it told her it had bothered him before. He just hadn’t said anything, and she hadn’t noticed. Some master detective she was.

  God, she was stupid. Byron had every right to be mad. She was stringing him along.

  She should’ve just told him about the mobsters and the diamonds. He’d understand. He knew how her life worked.

  “Tia is having this party Saturday,” said Connie. “She invited us. You and me. Other people too, of course.”

  Why was she still talking? Probably because he hadn’t said anything. She didn’t need to say anything else. Just give him time to talk.

  “It’s a dinner party or something. Dress casual, I think,” she said. “Nothing fancy or anything.”

  Thirty-six was too goddamn old to start trying to date like a regular person. If only she’d met Byron on a jewel heist in Morocco or fighting ghost pirates in the Bermuda Triangle. Someplace where their lives had been in danger, where things were as basic as staying alive and saving the day.

  It would’ve simplified things, but it also would’ve led her down the same path. Crazy, passionate flings that didn’t go anywhere. They were fun, but she wanted more now. She wanted something other than wild sex in steamy jungles while waiting for rabid gorillas to strike.

  The boss stood and grabbed a sword off her wall. She did not need this right now, either.

  “Uh, one second, Byron.” She muted the phone, waved her gun at the mobster. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Most broads don’t have the guts to shoot a man in the face.”

  Connie groaned. “You did not just call me a broad. What decade are you from? Anyway, I don’t have to shoot you. Don’t think I wouldn’t, but that’s one of my cursed swords you’re holding. I’d put it back where you found it if I were you.”

  He raised the sword and ran at her. His foot caught the end table. He fell, cracking his head against her coffee table. The sword sailed through the air. She caught it in one hand and checked him. He was still conscious.

  “Warned you. Now just lay down and try not to fall asleep. The ambulance should be here shortly.”

  She unmuted the phone. “Sorry about that. So, did you want to go to the party?”

  “Yes. If you want me to go.”

  “Of course I do.” She was a good liar, but even she had trouble believing herself this time. “I’ll see you Saturday, then?”


  “Yes, Saturday.”

  “Great.”

  She ended the call abruptly before anything could go wrong. Worlds were bound to collide, but not tonight.

  The sirens in the distance grew louder.

  3

  Connie had a history of bad ideas. They came with her life. When most people would run from kaiju attacks or cursed temples, she went forward. It worked out okay. Most of the time.

  But this was a bad idea.

  Byron buttoned up his shirt and straightened his collar. “Are you getting dressed?”

  She sat on the bed, in her underwear. “In a minute.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re stalling.”

  “No, I’m not. I just don’t know what I’m wearing.”

  “Wear your red dress. You always look good in red.”

  “Little ostentatious, isn’t it?”

  “Then a simple top and some pants,” he said.

  “I don’t want to be underdressed.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Sure. Take your time. I don’t suppose it will matter if we’re fashionably late.”

  She rose from the bed and hugged him from behind. “Or we could stay home and entertain ourselves.”

  “You’re stooping to bribing me with sex. You must be more nervous than I realized.”

  She backed away. “Maybe a little.”

  “As tempting as an offer as it is, I think we should at least drop by.” He put a hand on her cheek. “And if I am your boyfriend—”

  “You are,” she said.

  “Then we have to do this. It’s boyfriend stuff.”

  “Does it really matter? I’m not going to know many of the people there. It’s mostly Tia’s friends.”

  “Yes, but it’s Tia. She is your best friend, right? It’s about time I met her.”

  Connie shrugged. “She said the same thing.”

  “So we’ll go. We don’t have to stay long.”

  “Promise?”

  He picked her blue top out of her closet and held it out to her. “Cross my heart.”

  She chose some jeans and the top. Nothing fancy. She had a ball gown, but she’d only worn that once while impersonating a princess who just happened to be her physical twin. And she had a formal suit she wore when attending any political affair of note. But this was just a party. No need to overthink it.