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The man’s head turned between Rex and the other guard. A slight sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. Everything is fine.”
“Then who are they?” He put his little bug back in the box and held the box close to him.
“My security.”
“You don’t need security.”
“Well, how do I know you won’t use your device on me?” She put her hands in her pockets and gave him a closed-mouth smile. “I’m sure it won’t work, but you might still try.”
“I wouldn’t use it on you. I need your help.”
“Mmm. Yes, you do.” Her eyes flicked to the box on the couch and then to the man. “You haven’t even told me your name yet. You know mine, and it doesn’t seem fair.”
The man swallowed hard. “Keyser. My name is Keyser.”
Beatrice nodded to Rex. Before Keyser could take another breath, Rex flashed behind him, took Keyser’s head, and twisted until the head popped off in his hands. Keyser’s body collapsed. Blood spurted from his body and poured onto the floor. Beatrice stepped back, but not before the blood flow stained her boots.
She hopped back. “Damn it.” She met Rex’s eyes. “Will you please clean up this mess and ensure the black box is locked in the vault? I know just the person who can help me with that.”
Rex nodded. He and the man with him began working on the mess.
Beatrice scoffed and looked down at her boots. “I’m not even going to bother breaking these in now,” she said.
She walked through the kitchen to the utility room, where she removed the boots and threw them away. She turned, ready to call Morris, but as usual, he anticipated her needs before she asked. He stood in the doorway, holding a pair of slippers.
“How did you know I needed those?”
“It’s my job,” Morris said.
After putting on the slippers, Beatrice went into her office, sat at the desk, and made a call.
“Why are you calling me?” the male voice on the other phone said.
“Our problem just showed up at my door.” She picked up a pen and started drawing circles on a random paper.
“I don’t understand.”
“You told me Xerxes and his little invention had been taken care of. But considering you still haven’t addressed the other problem, I’m not surprised.”
“We had confirmation that Xerxes was dead, and we confiscated his invention.”
“The dead demon in my office proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Keyser?”
“Oh, so you do know about him. Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
The man cleared his throat. “The situation had been handled.”
Beatrice scoffed. “Really? Handled, huh?” She threw the pen across the room and crumbled up the paper. “It doesn’t matter. He’s been taken care of, and I have the prototype.”
“Do you know what to do with it?”
Another man who doubted her abilities. How many times did she have to prove herself?
“If you feel the need to ask me that, you still don’t understand who I am. Now I need to know if you have resolved our problem.”
