The Last Adventure of Constance Verity (27 page)

“Maybe so, but she could've at least given us a backflip.”

The Red Shadow ninja's corpse vanished in a puff of smoke. All the best ninjas were self-cleaning.

“I knew you could handle it,” said Hiro. “We always were a great team. I take care of the thievery while you handle the dirty work that comes along.”

“You forgot the betrayal. That's your department too,” said Connie.

“Oh, it was only once or twice. Harmless, really.”

“Three times.” She grabbed him by the collar, kept the sword by her side. “And don't even think about disappearing.”

He flashed her that devil-may-care smile of his. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Why did they send a Red Shadow assassin after you?” she asked, keeping tight hold on him.

“As you said, they must have known I let you see me and thought to eliminate a loose end. I don't know anything. Really.”

This time, she didn't say anything, letting the silence surround him.

“I might have been curious,” he said, “once I found out you were involved. I suppose I might have followed the pickup agent after delivering the package.”

“Where did this agent go? And don't pretend you have an honor code preventing you from telling me.”

“I'll be more than happy to tell you,” he said, “but on one condition. I'll go with you to retrieve it.”

She let him go. “Why?”

“Because you'll need me. You're an exceptional infiltration artist, but I've done some reconnaissance. You're not going to be able to get it without me.”

“And what's the price?” asked Connie.

“No price. Happy to do it. Eager to, actually. If helping you steal something will prove my sincere devotion, then I can think of no one better suited to the job.”

“You don't expect me to trust you.”

“Not today, but eventually, yes. You'll see. I've changed.”

“I wouldn't bring him along,” said Tia. “He's up to something.”

“I would,” said Thelma.

Connie could never read Hiro. He always had that smile on his face. Mischievous and playful, like a child who relished his ability to get away with anything as long as he could fake a sincere apology later.

“If you betray me this time . . .”

“My betrayal days are behind me.” He grinned in that infuriating, infatuating way. “I swear.”

“If you betray me again,” she said, “I will smash every valuable thing you've ever collected, including, but not limited to, your Picassos. And, no, I didn't say return to their original owners. You'd just steal them back.”

Hiro paled. It was good to see a crack in his sly demeanor. “But that's monstrous.”

She kicked a pedestal and the ancient vase rattled around, nearly falling off. The terror in his eyes pleased her more than she expected.

“Hell hath no fury . . . ,” she said with a malignant smile.

T
hey took a flight to Eastern Europe, ended up in a late-night parked-car stakeout of a tall, plain building in Leningrad or Kiev or some other exotic locale for no other reason than that exotic locales came with adventuring. Except all the old world cities, the alien civilizations, the magical glens, the incredible and the mundane, and every possible combination thereof blended together. Connie didn't pay attention anymore and could autopilot her way through a plane flight, boat ride, or camel caravan with the best of them.

She only cared about getting in, grabbing what they needed, and getting out.

“I'll just pop in and grab it,” said Hiro.

“Security won't be a problem?” asked Tia.

“I won't dignify that with an answer.”

“Here's what I don't get,” said Tia. “You had the spell. You wanted Connie to find you. Why did you give it to these guys if you were just going to steal it back?”

“Are you suggesting that I should have broken a contract with an employer?”

“But you're stealing the enchantment now.”

“My original deal was to bring them the spell, and I did so. There was no mention of not stealing it again.”

“That's some shaky ethics you've got there. I'm just saying you could've saved yourself a step.”

“I could have, but where's the challenge in that? And I refuse to get paid for not delivering things I've been employed to steal. Now, if you'll excuse me . . .”

“Be careful, Hiro,” said Connie. “They might be expecting you.”

“That only makes it more interesting,” he said with a wink.

“Do you need us to do anything?” asked Connie. “Maybe cause a distraction?”

Hiro was already gone, vanished from the backseat without opening the doors or jostling the car.

“Okay, that's just ridiculous. Although I can see why you have trust issues. Speaking of which, are you certain we can trust him?” asked Tia.

“Of course we can't trust him,” said Connie. “He's betrayed me three times. I'm sure he'll do it again when the opportunity presents itself. But we'll deal with that when the time comes. But Hiro is a compulsive thief and he has a thing for me. That should be enough to keep him on our side for now.”

“This is the guy who gave you your baggage?”

“No. My life gave me my baggage. Hiro is just one of the forms that baggage took.”

“It's pretty screwed up,” said Tia. “Sure, he's handsome and charming, but I guess I can't blame you for having trust issues if this is your healthiest relationship.”

“It's not my healthiest,” Connie said. “Just my longest. In an adventure, everyone has their own secret goals. You learn to live with it And I know Hiro. He'll leave us in the lurch when it suits his purposes, but until then, he'll be on our side. And when he does vanish, it'll be in a relatively safe position.”

“Safe. Like dangling over a crocodile pit?” asked Tia.

“In his defense, it was a small crocodile pit, and the crocs weren't very hungry.”

“Only you would make that distinction. I'm not just talking about the betrayal, although that's an obvious problem. I'm simply observing that your longest relationship was with a guy who can literally vanish in an instant. That's a metaphor for something.”

“I've always been lousy with relationships,” said Connie. “That's no secret. Comes with the life.”

“That's bull. Nobody is making you date guys like that. You're choosing to.”

“I've dated regular guys. It doesn't work out.”

“Whatever you say,” said Tia.

Connie didn't like Tia's tone but chose to ignore it. Tia didn't press.

“I think she's on to something,” said Thelma.

“Nobody asked you,” replied Connie.

“We're stuck waiting here,” said Thelma. “Seems like a good time for some honest self-examination.”

Connie's thumb hovered over Thelma's clicker.

“You can shut me up, but—”

CLICK

For an extra measure, Connie shoved Thelma in the glove compartment.

“I wouldn't bring it up, but I am your friend and you are trying to change,” said Tia.

“I am changing,” said Connie. “I'm dating a normal guy now.”

“You've dated normal guys before. Don't take this the wrong way, but you were never really into them.”

“Trevor and I were getting pretty serious before he was eaten by a space slug.”

“That's not the way I remember it. Just a week before, I started seeing the signs.”

“What signs?”

Tia laughed. “You seriously can't see them? Aren't you a master detective? How can you be so oblivious to your own patterns? Guess you're too close to it.”

Connie eyed a pressure point on Tia's neck. A little press with the thumb, and Tia would be unconscious for about an hour.

“I don't want to have this conversation.”

“That probably means you should be having it, and before you knock me out with some secret kung fu move you learned in Shangri-La or from Bruce Lee's ghost, you should know that's not how normal adults deal with situations.”

One little press.

Connie squeezed the steering wheel. “Okay. What patterns?”

“Whenever you date a normal guy, you get bored,” said Tia. “I get it. I get bored with most normal guys, and I haven't done a tenth of the stuff you've done. But it's deeper than that. You get all nitpicky.”

“I do not.”

“A week before that slug got Trevor, you were complaining about his taste in movies and how he liked his coffee.”

“His favorite Bill Murray movie was
Ghostbusters II
.”

“Okay, that's a big strike. I'll give you that. Still, you always find a reason to get rid of the ordinary guys, provided they aren't considerate enough to be devoured by a dinosaur before that's necessary.”

“Jeff. And he wasn't eaten. He was trampled to death.”

“Poor Jeff,” said Tia. “Poor He's-Always-Humming-All-The-Fucking-Time Jeff.”

“But he was humming all the fucking time.”

“And before Humming Jeff, there was Too-Many-Cats Bill—”

“Four cats. I draw the line at three.”

“—and Likes-The-Beatles-More-Than-The-Monkees Larry. Which isn't even a flaw, because every fucking person on this planet likes the Beatles more than the Monkees.”

“I'll have you know that there's an alternate reality where Mike Nesmith is a pop culture god. And really, the Beatles were never the same after they replaced Ringo.”

“I thought it was Paul.”

Connie chuckled. “What idiot believes that?”

“We're getting off topic. You have to admit you aren't great with ordinary guys, and it isn't always their fault.”

“Maybe.”

“Relationships aren't simple. Not friendships. Not dating. Not any of it. Do you think it's always been easy being your friend? There were times I thought about not returning your calls.”

Connie had also considered leaving Tia behind now and then. It would be safer for Tia that way. That's what Connie told herself. The truth was that it sometimes seemed easier to abandon any pretense of a regular life. There were times when Tia and Mom and Dad had seemed like more of an obligation than anything else. Dead weight to be left behind while Connie crossed the Sahara Desert or explored the deepest, darkest regions of the Amazon jungle.

Adventures were thrilling, addicting, but exhausting. Saving the world only mattered because she was reminded now and then that the world was worth saving, and it was in the quiet moments, whether relaxing under the waterfalls of Venus or meeting Tia for a nice lunch, that Connie found those reminders.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” said Tia. “I know you're under a lot of pressure.”

“You and Dad and Mom, you keep me sane. I need you. I need normal. I'm just not very good at it.”

“You're not the first woman to have a thing for drama and bad boys,” said Tia. “Doesn't mean you can't change.”

“I'm working on it,” said Connie.

“My ears are burning,” said Hiro. Somehow back in the car.

“Goddamn, give a girl a little warning next time,” said Tia.

“My apologies.”

But he wasn't sorry. He loved doing it. He lived for it. It was why he was so good at it. It was no wonder he vanished whenever things got serious. It wasn't the crown jewels or thrills that drove him to it. It was his nature. He was a shadow, and trying to date a shadow was stupid.

He flashed a cocky smile, and Connie's heart skipped a beat despite herself.

“I'm working on it,” she mumbled to herself.

He held up a metal tube about a foot long. “One caretaker enchantment, as ordered.”

“That was fast,” said Tia.

“Yes, it was,” he replied. “Sometimes, I even impress myself.”

Tia took the tube. “Are you sure it's in here? Last time I saw it, it was in a little metal square. You could fit it in your pocket.”

“I'm sure,” he said.

“You wouldn't mind if we double-checked?” She turned the lid.

“Don't—” said Connie.

The tube hissed. Tia passed out. Connie jumped out of the car and covered her mouth. Something stung her neck. Her vision blurred. She pulled the dart from her neck.

“Sorry,” said Hiro, that smug smile on his face. “Just being practical.”

She swung to take his head off, but he danced out of reach of her sluggish reflexes. She fell over and would've hit the pavement if he hadn't caught her. She struggled. In her imagination, she was fighting to the end, but she knew she was squirming in his arms like a dying fish.

She went unconscious.

Connie awoke with a headache. “Goddamn it.”

She took in her surroundings. It wasn't what she expected. The conference room had a single large table and two dozen chairs taking up most of it. There was nothing especially menacing about it other than the five security agents standing around in gray suits. They looked familiar, but they always did.