PHENOMENAL GIRL 5 (3 page)

The butler smiled. “Mister Elliot does what he can.”

I stared. “The Reincarnist—I mean Elliot—did all of this?”

The butler nodded. “Yes, Miss Lainey.”

I looked around again, weighing my surroundings against the man I barely knew. “Interesting.” Was there anything the man couldn’t do? Well, except hold a conversation without sounding arrogant.

“Do you have a dress for dinner, Miss Lainey?”

Some of my newfound glow started to slip away. “Yes, I have a dress. I met the President in it, so I think it will do for dinner.” Maybe my nerves were making me extra irritable, but neither of them had to act like I didn’t know how to dress or handle myself in the company of the elite.

“Should you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ring,” Mayhew said, unperturbed. “If you need help dressing, I can send up one of the maids. Also, the workout facilities and the pool are at your disposal in the downstairs left wing.”

“Thank you.”

“I shall leave you to get acclimated.” He left with a slight nod, shutting the doors behind him.

The doors had barely closed before I launched myself onto the large bed. Working with the Reincarnist might not be a picnic, but the amenities were definitely making up for it.

It wasn’t like it was going to be such a hardship working with him, either. Regardless of the vibe he gave off, it was an honor to work with the smartest man alive, and hey, he’d earned the right to his arrogance.

There was also the little flutter he gave me in the pit of the stomach.

Oh no
, I ordered myself.
Don’t go there. Crushes on the boss do not work out. Ask anyone
.

Still, I couldn’t wait to wow him at dinner to night.

Or at least show him I wasn’t a poorly dressed dolt.

I descended the wide staircase, keeping a steady hand on the banister. It didn’t help; my four-inch heels still caught on something invisible to the human eye, and I almost fell down the stairs. Klutziness, thy name is Lainey. Swearing under my breath, I tightened my grip on the banister and continued gingerly down, probably looking like a kid wobbling in her mother’s shoes. I had never mastered the sashaying walk most women seemed to be born with. Maybe it was because I had never had a mother to guide me to womanhood, but there was something boyish about my manner, despite being amply blessed in the bosom area. I was meant to kick butt, not be eye candy.

I made it to the hall without falling and stood outside for a moment, checking to make sure every inch of the black designer dress was in its place. Satisfied, I took a deep breath, opened the door to the dining room, and walked in. A large table took up most of the space. At one end sat the Reincarnist, reading a newspaper. He glanced up and folded the newspaper, setting it next to his plate.

“Good, you are on time.” He rose and walked over to me. I felt his eyes travel my body, assessing me as he approached.

See, I’m not a slob
, I thought. Aloud, I said, “Where is everybody?”

“Pardon me?”

I gestured to the room. “We’re in this huge room, all dressed up. I thought you were having company.”

“Not to night, no.”

“So why are we dressed up?”

He looked at me as if I were beyond understanding. “I told you, we dress for dinner in this house. Long ago, people used to dress up for dinner and not lounge about in jeans and T-shirts.” He pulled out a chair at the other end of the table from his place and stood waiting for me to take it. I looked blankly at him. Why would he seat me so far away?

“Sit down.” He motioned to the chair.

“Seriously?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just the two of us. You’re all the way down at the other end of the room!”

“The acoustics are very good in here. One can carry on a conversation quite well, though I am afraid I have gotten used to dining alone as of late.”

I gave up and sat down. So my life for the foreseeable future was going to be spent dressed up for meals in an enormous hall with a companion who didn’t like to talk. Not that I would have been able to hear him, anyway.

“Maybe I should bring a book or something,” I said, more to myself than him, as he retook his seat at the other end of the monstrous table.

“Pardon?”

“Exactly.”

He rang a bell and Mayhew appeared from the door behind him. “We are ready.”

“Of course, sir.” He disappeared again.

I examined the array of utensils in front of me. Good thing I had practice eating at fancy political dinners, otherwise I’d be feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of forks.

“Do you always wear black?” Elliot asked, his voice echoing
off the walls. Okay, so maybe the acoustics
were
good in this room.

“Huh?”

He motioned to my dress. “I have seen photographs of your costume. And your dress. Do you always look as if you are in mourning?”

I glared at him in outrage. He made me get all dressed up and then he was going to complain about what I was wearing? “I went to meet the President in this dress, and he didn’t seem to think I looked like I was going to a funeral.”

“The President was probably admiring the assets the dress shows off.”

That was it. The gloves were off. No way was I going to sit there and be insulted and somewhat sexually harassed.

“You know, for the smartest man alive, you certainly are an idiot when it comes to women,” I said, my voice calm.

Mayhew, who had walked in at just that moment, was standing stock-still, shooting quick glances at his employer. I calmly stared at Elliot, waiting for his response.

His lips twitched suspiciously. He found my outburst amusing? “I do apologize, Miss Livingston, I meant no offense. You are correct. I am not an expert in women’s fashion. I only meant that you might want to try wearing a bit of color once in a while. I am sorry to have upset you.”

The danger past, Mayhew set the first course down in front of me, winking.
He knows his employer’s crazy
, I thought.
Maybe at least I have an ally in him
.

“Apology accepted,” I said. “I’m sorry I said you were ignorant.”

This time a smile did break out. “Actually you are correct, Miss Livingston. I may have lived forever, but I still do not have the best social skills. A side effect, I am afraid, of spending too much time in the lab and with books.”

“Maybe you should get out more. When you’re not tracking down villains, I mean.”

“Maybe I shall. Do try the wine, it is an excellent vintage.”

I sipped it. It was good; not too heavy. “So, speaking of the lab, how did it go with the coffee grounds?”

“We shall see to night. The police have searched the surrounding area where the child was last seen, as well as the one I pointed out today, and found nothing. Tonight I want to try a detection spell on-site, and see what I can find. I may need you to fly around and check the buildings.”

I speared a piece of lettuce. “So I
can
be useful to you?” I said, a slight hint of humor creeping in my voice.

“That remains to be seen. I want to determine how strong your investigative skills are. But first, let us enjoy our meal. No more business discussion at the dinner table.”

“Is that what heroics are to you—business, not pleasure?”

“Fighting crime is our job, much the same as it is for a police officer or a judge. And having studied extensively in criminal psychology and forensics, not to mention my magical advantages, I get many requests for help from the police, and that is also my job.”

“I thought you were old money,” I said, and then bit my lip. He probably didn’t like the billionaire playboy stereo type being shoved in his face.

He laughed. “My dear girl, Robert Elliot might be called ‘old money’ by society, but who do you think earned and invested it for all of these years? I have worked very hard for all of this.”

Well, now I felt stupid. “Of course you did. It’s just a hard concept to wrap your mind around, someone living multiple lives and retaining the knowledge from each.”

“I do not remember everything,” he said with a distracted air. “Many of the details are fuzzy. For instance, I can tell you I fought in every major war in the United States, but not who my commanding officers were.”

I shivered. “Sounds a bit spooky to me.”

“Why? You do not recall every bit of your life in perfect detail. Could you tell me what happened to you on this date fifteen years ago?”

“No, not exactly.” I would have been eleven, so I could hazard a guess that my classmates at the School were probably torturing me, but I got his point. “So I guess death doesn’t really scare you, huh?”

“Why would that be?”

I toyed with my napkin. “You know you’ll come right back, right?”

“Not exactly.” He frowned. “There is never a guarantee the life I am living will not be my last one. Or that if I do come back, that I will retain any memories at all or just become a blank slate.”

I shivered.
Yikes.

“We could talk about my long life for years, but I would rather hear something about you,” he said. He obviously wanted to change the subject.

I let the approaching main course of beef Wellington distract me. “There’s probably not much to say that you don’t already know.”

“Pretend I know nothing about you.”

I took a bite of the delicious beef, determined not to let my past ruin my appetite. The sting had gone out of my history awhile ago, but I still hated talking about it. I settled on giving the edited version. “My powers are the result of a power plant accident that killed my dad. My mom survived long enough for me to be born.”

“I am very sorry.”

I picked at my food. “I never knew them. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. But I like to think that they would be proud of the work I do.”

“I am sure they would be.”

Pushing aside the melancholy that always cropped up when I talked about my parents, I continued. “My powers manifested at eleven, and I was sent to live at the School.” I eyed him. “Which you founded.”

He nodded. “A couple of lifetimes ago, yes.”

“I’ve worked with both the Red Knights and the Power
Squad, and now I’m working with you.” I held up my hands. “That’s me. Not as exciting as fighting in World War II or learning the black arts.”

He winced. “Do not use that term, if you please. That is for unenlightened people, of which you are not one, who think magic is the direct route to damnation.”

“So I’m enlightened now, am I?”

“Anyone who graduated from law school at the tender age of twenty-four is enlightened.” At my shocked look, he added, “I said I researched your career. I told Ben to accept you the first time your application went through, but he thought Pushstar was a better choice. We both know how wrong he was.”

“Pushstar’s washout was legendary,” I said, stunned by the revelation that
he’d
wanted me to make it into the EHJ. The Reincarnist had told Doctor Rath to accept me? Why? And then why had he been so derisive about my powers? And asked me my name? He had to believe I was intelligent and capable if he had recommended me in the first place. “So you
do
know everything there is to know about me.”

“Not everything.” He put his folded napkin down next to his plate and pushed back his chair. “We should get ready to patrol. You can assist me in setting up the detection spell.”

I retrieved my own napkin from my lap and stood up. “Sounds great. I’ve never actually seen anyone use magic before.” I followed him out of the cavernous dining room into the hall and up the stairs toward our suites.

“Yes, they do tend to segregate the magic students at the School, do they not?” He moved at a brisk pace. “Just do what I ask, and you shall be fine. I will wait for you to change.”

Leaving him in the hallway, I went into my suite and dressed in a hurry. My black leather costume and thicksoled boots were with the rest of my clothes. Pulling them on, I slicked my hair back into a tight ponytail and bounded back down the stairs to the foyer.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s patrol,” I said when I found him downstairs. Damn, and I’d dressed fast too.

Elliot slid a vial into his jacket pocket. “Excellent. We can…” He trailed off, seeing me. “Why are you wearing that?”

God, did he think he was a fashion critic? “I thought we were going patrolling. It’s my costume.”

He shook his head. “Just as I do not use aliases, I do not use costumes. Neither will you in my company.” He motioned to his outfit: a simple dark suit, long trench coat, and a fedora. “We try to blend in with the crowd as much as we can. All the better to sneak up on a villain.”

“How do you keep villains from finding out who you are? No wonder this place is so heavily guarded!”

“Confusion spells. This hat.” He smiled. Was he teasing me? “And how exactly does tight, black, leather clothing and no mask protect your secret identity?”

Okay, so he had a point. “I have no one to protect. They find out my secret identity, the only person they’re going to hurt is me. But I’m not as high-profile as you. I don’t have any arch nemeses.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “The language we speak is so over-the-top, do you not think? Archnemeses, secret identities, villains, super-aliases…”

I shrugged. “Our lives are over-the-top. We’re heroes. It’s what we do. I can bench-press an elephant and you live forever and cast spells. That’s over-the-top.”

“Do you at least have a jacket to wear over that?”

“Got just the thing. Won’t be but a minute.” I turned and flew back up the stairs, literally, to return only moments later in a lightweight black coat that was fitted to my waist and then flared out.

“Oh, that is
so
much better. That certainly blends in.”

“Sarcasm is no one’s friend,” I retorted. “I’ll wear civvie clothes next time. Let’s go.”

We walked outside into the chill night air.

“Which one of your cool cars are we taking?” I surveyed the line of vehicles.

My comment got a genuine smile out of him. “You think my cars are cool?”