Even Villains Fall in Love (7 page)

It didn’t matter.

He pulled on a clean shirt. Today he’d fix the
Morality Machine, and tracking down Tabitha would be a simple
matter of watching the news. He’d find her, turn on the machine,
and fix this mess.

When Election Day rolled around, it wouldn’t
matter that he couldn’t cook. He’d be president of the United
States. If a computer geek who worked freelance out of his basement
wasn’t good enough for her, the president and de facto leader of
the free world would be.

He pulled on his jacket out of habit and froze,
captivated by his reflection in the mirror. The jacket,
custom-tailored black Dior, had been off-limits since the wedding.
It always hung in the closet, a laughable reminder of life before
her. The jacket radiated warmth, like a favorite blanket. It hugged
him, promised him security.

“Daddy!” The scream at the door was accompanied
by a ruckus that would make a zombie horde proud.

Toddlers and Dior didn’t mix. The jacket went
back in the closet. Today was a grease and gears day. The jacket
could wait.

“You girls ready?” he asked with a big, fake
smile as he opened the door.

Chapter Ten

I can count on one hand the number of
times I have cried in my life. I cried when the doctors told us
Blessing would live. I cried when we buried my parents after a
drunk crossed the yellow line. Then Tabitha left me, and I learned
what true sorrow was. There is no pain like losing the woman you
love.

***

“Master?” Hert sidled up to the worktable
cautiously.

Evan’s gaze slid sideways to the paper Hert
held, probably another calendar revision reminding him of the week
he’d lost to the depression. “What?”

“We found her, Master.” The minion held a paper
out, quivering in terror.

“Give me that.” Evan snatched it away. “I am not
that scary,” he shouted as Hert flinched.

The minions all ducked.

From across the room, Angela frowned at him from
her throne of stuffed animals. He’d spent sleepless nights waiting
for Tabitha to come home, clearing part of the lab and turning it
into a kid-safe play area complete with ratty couch, old TV, and
movies on VHS. The girls were fascinated by the ancient technology.
Black ribbons of cassette tape hung from the ceiling like paper
chains designed by Death.

He glowered back, and his daughter’s eyes
narrowed, making her look painfully like her mother.

A wave of happiness hit him. The gears spread
out on the table looked like dancing daisies. Pink clouds floated
past. Evan shook his head, but the pink clouds persisted. A small
rainbow burst in front of him. “Angela?”

“Yes, Daddy?” she asked in a smug tone that was
an exact replica of Tabby’s when she’d just won a fight.

“Stop it, or you’re grounded.”

The pink clouds vanished, melting into the
dungeon gray of the basement. His own dark feelings of self-hate
and fear returned. “You should never manipulate people’s emotions,
Angela. That’s what super villains do.”

She unwound her blanket and walked over to his
workbench. “Is that what you do?”

“What?” He looked up in alarm, then picked up a
gear and made a show of studying it.

“You’re a villain aren’t you, Daddy?”

He tapped the gear slowly on the tabletop. “Of
course not.”

“Then why do you have machines and minions?”

Evan glanced at Hert. “They’re cheaper than cats
and dogs.”

Angela crossed her arms. The other girls were
paying attention now, cherubic faces peeking out of their blanket
fort. “You make people agree with you.”

“Obviously not,” he growled, “or we wouldn’t be
having this argument.”

“You’re a super villain.”

“Would your mother marry a super villain?
She’s a super hero. Everyone knows super heroes don’t marry
villains. There
are
rules.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You tricked her! That’s
why she left us! You tricked her!”

“What? No! Sweetie, no.” Evan scooped her up in
a hug as guilt twisted in his gut like a knife. “No, Angela, no.
Mommy knew I was a bad guy. I gave that up so I could be with her.
I didn’t trick her. I love her.”

“But you are a villain,” Angela said.

“Only as a hobby.” He patted her back and rocked
side to side like she was still three months old and easily calmed.
He glanced at the paper Hert had pushed at him. “Girls? How would
you like to go to Colorado?”

Chapter Eleven

Pick up and leave home? Home is where
the heart is. Tabitha is the soul and center of my world. I could
no more willingly live apart from her than I could will myself to
quit breathing.

***

Evan watched from the foyer of the university
biology building as students walked through the pine-studded
campus. Tabitha stepped out of the library wearing jeans and a
conservative T-shirt. His breath caught. She looked amazing. His
heart raced as he waited for her to turn and smile. He needed that
smile more than anything in the world.

“Mister Fascino?” The dean of the biology
department opened his office door.

Evan tucked the cuff of his Dior suit
shirtsleeve over the miniaturized Agree-With-Me Ray then turned
with a smile. “Dean Lang, it’s so good of you to see me at such
short notice.”

The giant of a man laughed heartily. “Trust me
when I say, Mister Fascino, that I would rather speak with
prospective teachers than the prospectus committee again. Drink?”
he offered, motioning to a decanter of amber liquid sitting on a
low side table near oversized windows.

“No, thank you.” Evan took a seat and smiled at
the dean. “I’ve found it’s dangerous to accept unknown liquids from
the biology department. Biologists have such a quirky sense of
humor.”

Dean Lang laughed. “We have more petri dishes
filled with strawberry Jell-O on April Fools’ Day than real
specimens. That’s eighteen-year-old Glenlivet whiskey, if you’re
interested. A gift from the family when I took the job.” He settled
his comfortable bulk into a dark leather chair. “So, you’re
interested in teaching here?”

“Yes, sir,” Evan said, stepping away from mental
calculations of how much the dean had spent on office furniture.
“Professor Buckley mentioned there was an opening as an ethics
lecturer. I’ve wanted an excuse to move to the area, so I thought
I’d apply.”

All of that was true. Since finding out that
Tabitha had enrolled as a mid-semester transfer last week under the
name Zinnia Perl, he was more than a little interested in moving to
the foothills. Finding the aging Professor Buckley and persuading
him to take an early retirement had taken all of ten minutes, in
which time the professor had mentioned someone would need to fill
his post as the ethics teacher—a class Tabitha took four days a
week.

“And, have you ever taught ethics?” the dean
asked.

“Not as such, sir. I hold dual degrees in
genetics and mechanical engineering. I’m very familiar with the
ethical quandaries of science. I’ve attended a number of ethics
classes and symposiums.” Mostly true. He’d tested out of a number
of ethics classes, which was practically the same thing.

Evan adjusted the mini Agree-With-Me Ray clipped
to his watch. “Why don’t I start today?”

The dean blinked at him with an expression of
bovine confusion.

Being in that class was essential to life. If he
couldn’t see Tabitha soon he wouldn’t survive another day. He
needed something from her, a look, a gesture, something to give him
hope.

She’d have no way to ignore him. Angry as she
was, she wouldn’t miss the chance to ask about the girls. Maybe
threaten him. It didn’t matter. She could break every bone in his
body if it meant she’d consider forgiving him. He tapped the watch
again. “Class starts in a few minutes. You want me there.”

“Ah,” said the dean, shaking his head. “Are
you...are you quite ready to teach? I could have someone else fill
in.”

“No need. Professor Buckley was kind enough to
give me a copy of his lecture notes. I know the material.”

Dean Lang rubbed his temples. “Well, if you’re
quite sure. I suppose I could, um...ah.”

“Write up my packet and finish the paperwork,”
Evan suggested. “That would be perfect. I’ll come by and sign
everything tomorrow.”

“Right.” The older man shuffled paper. “I’m
sorry, did you already send your credentials over? I don’t recall
seeing them.”

“I’m sure you saw them. You complimented
me on the thesis paper I wrote.” Evan arched an eyebrow.
Stubborn old man. Agree-With-Me!

“Quite. Yes, of course I remember now. Age and
all.” The dean gave him a weak smile.

Evan stood up. “Thank you so much for the job,
Dean. I look forward to working here.”

He ran to the classroom, a small lecture hall on
the far side of campus, featuring orange plastic chairs and fake
wooden desktops. He scanned the crowd, but couldn’t find
Tabitha.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down to
the teaching podium and pretended to busy himself with the papers.
The material wasn’t all that interesting, only a review of free
market eugenics and the synthetic life form
Mycoplasma
mycoidesJCVI-syn1.0
.

The classroom door opened, bringing the smell of
dying leaves and something a little too sweet for pleasure.
Tabitha’s new perfume.

He looked up, drinking the sight of her in as he
tried to prepare an argument for the coming confrontation. He
wasn’t following her; he was here for the job. She’d said something
about finding work, hadn’t she?

Tabitha took her seat, glanced at him with an
easy smile, and then looked away as if he were the least important
thing in the world. Again.

Somehow, Evan managed to stumble through the
fifty-minute class without begging Tabitha’s forgiveness. Her sweet
smile dominated his thoughts as he rambled on about medical testing
and...something. There were words, he strung them in sentences,
none of that mattered. He felt fifteen again, lost in a hell of
shame and fear. Finally, the lecture ended and he could say,
“Time’s up. Make sure to study chapter twelve for the quiz on
Friday.”

The students filed out. Tabitha collected her
books as she chatted with a friend, then turned to look at him with
a pretty, pink blush on her cheeks.

He licked his lips as she walked down the aisle
between long rows of stadium seats. A wiser man might have run, but
he couldn’t. He’d do anything to see her again, take any abuse just
to be near her.

She trapped him with her smile as surely as any
cage. “Doctor?” she asked, an innocent note of hesitancy in her
voice.

“Mister Fascino, for now.” He smiled. “I’m
still waiting to defend my thesis.” Wrong answer. He cleared his
throat. “Evan works best.”
Or Love, Lover, Sexy,
Husband, any of those
. It didn’t matter what she
called him. If she spoke, he would listen.

“Evan.” Her mouth curled around his name the way
it did in bed when she begged for release. A prayer, a charm, a
promise —on her lips his name became a many-faceted thing. “Are you
coming to the department mixer tonight?” she asked.

“Um, what?” He’d been lost in memory.

“The mixer. It’s not quite a dinner, but they
usually have pizza and punch, store-bought cookies. You know the
drill. We all come and socialize.”

“You like pizza?”

“Love it!” She laughed, the way she always did
when they were alone together, and happy.

What was that supposed to mean? There was no
hand signal, no hint of what she was thinking. Just Tabitha
clutching her books to her chest and looking virginal as the day
they married. “Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on going.”

“You should come,” she said. “We graduate
students have to stick together.”

“Right.”

Her hand reached for his, a butterfly’s touch.
“I’d like you to come.”

If she’d asked him for the moon, he would have
found a way to put it in her hands by supper. “I’ll be there.”

She walked away. No backward glance. No
significant eye gesture to signal she’d left a note. Nothing.

Evan checked under her desk, under his desk, and
by the door. Not even a pencil shaving.

It didn’t make sense. She stormed out of the
house furious, and now she acted like she couldn’t wait to see him
at dinner? Dinner? Was there some sort of coded message? A
cryptogram spelled out in pepperoni?

There had to be a rational explanation for all
of this.

He fiddled with his watch and froze. The
Agree-With-Me Ray? It wasn’t supposed to work like that. He should
have been able to persuade her to listen, but it wasn’t the
Morality Machine. Not by a long shot. If it worked like that,
everyone from Dean Lang to Tabby’s new BFF would be offering to
show him their private leather-and-lace collection.

He grabbed his phone and dialed. “Hert?”

“Yes, Master?”

“How are the girls?”

“Watching a movie, Master. There is popcorn
everywhere.”

“Fine. Did you get the video feed of Tabby?”

“Yes.”

“And? What was the signal? What did she do? Did
she do something at super speed I didn’t see?”

“We’re still analyzing, Master, but I don’t
believe she did anything except invite you to dinner.”

Evan chewed his lip for a minute. “All right.
New plan. Find out where this mixer is, get a team in to bug her
apartment, and pick some minions to watch the girls. It looks like
I’m going to have a late night.”

Chapter Twelve

There should be some background story
about my awkward youth or how I was teased as a child, or even how
my parents never loved me. I could write that story, but it would
all be lies. No one pushed me into a life of crime. I’ve never
tried to excuse my behavior that way. I’ve never tried to excuse my
behavior at all.