She checked for pockets, and found that this gown-like dress didn't have any. She was expected to carry a purse. Cube knew of purses but had never used one herself, unless the pouch counted. But she didn't want to hide this weapon in a purse; she wanted it right on her body, where she could put her hand on it in a hurry.
She cast about. Finally she tucked it into her waistband under her blouse. That wasn't ideal, but her clothing left little choice. With luck the slight bulge over her tummy wouldn't be noticed.
She looked at Silhouette's watch. This was a gem-studded wristband with a small disk with two or three tiny sticks radiating out from its center, marking time. She had used up most of the time she had given the accountant.
She closed the desk, returned the key to its hiding place, replaced the brick, and strode for the main reception room. She just had time to settle herself in a fancy chair and cross her legs appealingly before the accountant arrived.
"Hello, Sil," he said with artificial joviality.
"Silhouette."
"Beg pardon?"
"You are my employee. You will address me formally."
He looked startled, then regrouped. "Of course, Silhouette," he said, humoring her. "Now what is this little problem? I am prepared to authorize any reasonable expense if there is a dress or item of jewelry you desire."
"James, I will cut to the chase. You have been embezzling from me for the past two years. This will not only stop, it will be reversed."
"Embezzling!" he said, astonished. "How can you say such a thing, Sil--Silhouette?"
"Do not attempt to play a game with me, James. I have known all along. Now it is time to correct it. I will give you one day to get your accounts in order before I have them audited." There was the magic word. If it did not work--
"Audited!" he exclaimed, his ruddy features paling. "You can't be serious! Your aunt would never authorize--"
So it had scored. "Susan will no longer be reviewing the estate accounts," Cube said. "I will do that personally, after the auditor is done." She fixed the man with a metallic gaze. "You have two choices, James: make prompt reparations and be allowed to resign from your position without adverse notice, or fail to do this and face termination and criminal charges."
The man stared at her with the expression that was becoming familiar. He couldn't understand how timid Silhouette could do this. He didn't know who was governing this body. "This--a joke, right?"
"An unfunny one," Cube agreed. "Now go to your office and get your accounts in order, because my next call is to the auditor. You have your instruction and your deadline. I suggest that you not waste further time."
Like a zombie, the man shambled out of the room. Cube nodded; the magic word had indeed been potent.
And no bluff. She drew on Silhouette's information to use the telephone book and check the Yellow Pages under Certified Public Accountants. Toward the end of the list was one called Xanadu. She liked that word; it sounded like Xanth. So that was the one she called. Soon she had an appointment with the auditor, Kubla. He would not arrive for two days, so Silhouette would have to handle it, but Cube had, as the Mundane idiom had it, greased the skids.
Now it was time for Yorick's afternoon visit. He was Silhouette's fiancé, an imposing and urbane man a decade her senior. He had the appearance of the ideal consort, and Silhouette's relatives approved of him. They didn't know he was a vulture.
For Yorick habitually brutalized Silhouette, carefully so as to leave no visible marks, and had raped her on occasion. At first she had been fascinated by him, but now she hated and feared him. He was like a hunting snake, to distort a metaphor, and she like a captive bird; she could neither resist nor escape him. He was the main reason for her decision to commit suicide.
Cube was not fascinated by the man, and she was no captive bird. Everything she knew about him from Silhouette's experience satisfied her that she wouldn't want him even if he came courting her in her real body. What use to exchange a manless life for a victim's fate? He, above all, had to be dealt with.
But mere words would not cow this brutal rogue. He was interested in Silhouette for three things: her money, her beauty, and her social status. He had a deal with the corrupt accountant to siphon her money, he ravished her beauty at will, and he would have her status when he married her. He would not lightly give up these things.
But there were measures that should be effective. Cube would invoke them. She had to prevail, because if she did not get this man permanently out of Silhouette's life, she would have no life. So she would address them in order, and with luck persuade him to look elsewhere for his gratifications. If she failed--well, it might get ugly.
Yorick arrived on schedule, for he was a punctual man, especially where his interests were concerned. "Hi, babe!" he said.
Cube froze for a moment. She had not made proper allowance for his appearance. He was a handsome man, the kind that could ordinarily make her swoon with frustrated longing. But handsome was as handsome did, she reminded herself with another Mundane aphorism. In any event, he was not for her. Even if he had been decent, he was a Mundane in Mundania.
Yorick swept her into his arms and kissed her, and she couldn't bring herself to resist. If only such a thing could be real, on its several levels!
Then she summoned her gumption. What she needed to do was cause him to break the engagement and go away forever. That would require some finesse and considerable ugly implication. First she had to undermine the foundations of their relationship. Then she had to provoke him into dumping her.
"Desist, dear," she said, gently pushing him away. "We have special business."
"Indeed we do, Sil!" His arms did not release her; instead one hand slid under her skirt to squeeze one firm buttock while the other quested for her breast. He liked the fullness thereof. "Let's get to the bedroom."
"Desist!" Cube said more sharply, twisting out of his grasp. "Sit down. We must talk."
"Sure we will, soon." He pursued her.
She found refuge behind a couch, where he couldn't conveniently reach. She had no script at all for this; Silhouette had never had the gumption even to try to avoid him. "There are matters relating to our marriage that must be settled. First, there will be a pre-nuptual agreement." That was another magic word or phrase.
"A what?" He was trying to figure out how to get to her.
"With teeth in it."
"A pre-nup!" he exclaimed, fidgeting and avoiding her gaze. "Whatever for?"
"In the event of the dissolution of our relationship, you will have a fair but modest stipend until such time as you marry elsewhere. You will have no claim on the estate, and there will be no cash settlement."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, outraged. But there was a vacuity in his tone: he was bluffing. "You can't do that."
"There will be other details, of course, but that will be the essence. You will not get rich off me."
A cunning look replaced his incredulity. Then it was suppressed. He fidgeted and looked away again, apparently unaware of the manner she was reading him. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. "Of course, dear. Whatever you say. All I want is your happiness."
"Excellent. I will have my lawyer draw it up soon. It will be absolutely tight."
"Not if I don't sign it," he muttered.
"What was that, Yorick?"
"Nothing, dear. Now let's get to the bedroom."
One support had been compromised. On to the second. "When we marry," she continued inexorably, "I will not be taking your surname. I will keep my own, so it will be quite clear that we are not social equals."
Anger clouded his countenance. "That's outrageous!"
She delivered the level gaze. "You do still wish to marry me?"
"Of course! But not this way."
She leaned forward so that the upper surfaces of her breasts were exposed and smiled, devastating him with her beauty. "What way did you have in mind, dear?"
"That's it!" he rasped. He lung
ed across the couch, catching her by a long tress. "We'll have none of this crap! If you don't like the bedroom, we'll do it right here on the couch."
"Release my hair," Cube said firmly.
"The hell!" He yanked on it cruelly. "What's got into you, Sil? How come these sudden airs? You know you're nothing but a damned slut, nothing at all without me."
That did it. She had been foolishly half reluctant to destroy him, because of his handsomeness. Now she understood right through to the core that handsome truly was as handsome did, and he was fecal matter. Her gumption was converting to something like rage. "Release my hair," she repeated, her hand finding the plastic piece at her waistband.
"The hell!" he repeated, yanking so hard that she had to bend forward over the couch, showing twice as much breast as before. He reached over her back, caught her bottom, and heaved her up and over so that her head plowed into his thighs. His hands remained busy, catching her legs, hauling her the rest of the way onto the couch. She was unable to resist effectively at the moment, but the plastic was in her hand and her rage was burgeoning.
He turned her over, roughly, and ripped open her blouse. "You're just a piece of meat! Now spread your legs."
Cube tried to sit up, to get her feet on the floor. But he was holding her down as he continued to rip at her clothing, and she remained weak from her pill-induced illness. She could not get him off her, and could not get off the couch. The situation was out of control.
It was time to defend herself more effectively. Words had lost their power. She needed to temper her rage with effective action. She bent her right arm at the elbow and punched upward at his head. The L point of the weapon rammed into his left ear.
"Ooow!" he cried, lurching back. "What the hell?"
That was more like it. "Get away from me," Cube said.
"You bitch! You hit me! Well, now you're really going to get it!" He lifted his fist.
Cube's right hand was now beside her left jaw in the follow-through of her punch. She straightened her elbow, wielding the plastic like a hammer. It collided with Yorick's right eye. The force was not great, but the plastic was hard; that eye would be black tomorrow.
"Ooow!" he repeated. But still he did not desist. "I'll kill you!"
Her third strike had better aim and greater force. She flattened his nose. Blood welled out, dripping on her.
Now at last Yorick fell back, releasing her. Cube sat up. Then she shoved him away from the couch. He sat on the floor, holding his face, groaning.
Time for the finale. The script for this was adapted from a dirty magazine that had shocked Silhouette when she read it. "Oh, this is fun," she said.
"Fun? What did you hit me with?"
He hadn't seen the plastic. Good. "Only my hand, dear. But I can get a knife if you prefer."
"A knife!"
"When we are married," she said sweetly, "this will be a regular thing. Violence turns me on. Now let's go to the bedroom."
"The bedroom!" he cried. "I'm bleeding to death!"
"This was an avenue you chose," she reminded him. "Sex with violence. I find I have developed a taste for it. Of course this level won't satisfy me long; it will have to escalate. I will order manacles for you, so that next time we can do it right. I have some delicious ideas."
"You're crazy! I'm getting out of here!" He scrambled to his feet.
"But dear--I thought you liked this! I thought you were a soul-mate. Now come to the bedroom, where I can make you really hurt."
"No way!" He stumbled toward the door.
"But we're engaged! It's all set."
"Not anymore it isn't! I'm gone!" And he was.
Cube smiled grimly. That had not played out quite the way she had hoped, but it was probably enough. Bullies didn't like to get bullied themselves. She had given him three excellent reasons to break up with her, and he would probably be too embarrassed to tell anyone else why.
But the job was not yet finished. Cube quelled her violent passion, for the next stage was of another nature. She went to her room, stripped away her ruined dress, stepped into the Mundane shower, and then changed to a new and more conservative outfit. No flexing surfaces of breast or thigh would show. She fixed her lovely hair, formulating her plan for the finale. Because she needed to secure Silhouette's situation, making sure the vultures would never return. Silhouette was not a strong-willed woman; she would need ongoing support. Cube would try to arrange for it.
She went to the aunt's room, tapped on the door, and opened it without waiting. The aunt looked up from her chair. "There is a small mess in the living room," Cube said. "See that it is properly cleaned up. I am going out." She departed, leaving the woman speechless. She would be worse than speechless when she saw the blood and understood that this time Silhouette had beaten up Yorick, rather than the other way around.
She went to the gardener's modest quarters behind the four-car garage. Silhouette's memory clarified him as a good man, a friend of her father's and still a loyal employee. Now she needed friendship and loyalty.
She knocked on his door and waited. After a moment the old man opened it. "Miss Silhouette!" he exclaimed. "So good to see you."
She stepped in to him and kissed him, startling him. "Filip, I need you."
"Miss Silhouette, I am always at your service. You know that." The startle was fading.
"This is not routine. Please, may I come in?"
"Oh, Miss Silhouette, this is not--"
"Sil."
He paused. "I think I do not understand."
"My aunt called me Sil, with contempt. Henceforth she will address me as Silhouette. You have always treated me with respect, even when I was a spoiled child. You may call me Sil."
"This is not proper."
"Because I need a friend I can trust."
Now understanding came. "Come in, Sil."
She entered the cramped chamber that was his kitchen, den, and bedroom. She sat on the bed, pretending not to notice that it had not been made. Filip sat in the one available chair. He was a portly man her father's age, in faded jeans and a worn plaid shirt, with nicely graying hair. He was an immigrant from central Europe and still spoke with an accent. He waited politely for her to state her business with him.
"I thought you had more space."
"Your aunt needed more storage space."
"My father would not have taken yours."
"Your father is not here."
Just so. "How is your son?"
"Phil's doing well in trade school. I see him every week."
"We were playmates as children. He was two years older than I, but he never talked down to me."
"He liked you, Sil."
"And I liked him. But I went to the fancy boarding school, and then to the fancier private college, and we grew apart. I regret that."
"So does he."
"But when we were young, and I had homework I couldn't handle, I would bring it to him. He wasn't in my school, and never had assignments like that, but he would tackle it and figure it out and explain it to me. Then I understood it, and could keep up with my class."
Filip nodded. "He got a good education that way."
"The upper-class education not available to the children of immigrants."
"We are not complaining. Your father was always generous to us."
"When Father died, your situation deteriorated. So did mine."
"It pained me to see it, Sil. But it was not my place to comment. I'm only the gardener."
"My father's friend. And mine."
"And yours," he agreed.
Cube pondered briefly, not finding this as straightforward as she had hoped. This was not a man to put in his place, but a friend to enlist, and he might not appreciate what she meant to ask of him.
"Your son was smarter than I, and decent, like you."
"And homely, like me."
"Does he have a current relationship?"
"A girlfriend? No, he has never been interested."
Cube felt a
larm. "He is not interested in women?"
Filip smiled. "It is not that, Sil. His heart is already taken."
Damn! "Who?"
"I think you know. But of course he knows it is futile."
Ah. "Not necessarily."
"I do not follow."
"Would he be amenable to a relationship with me other than as an employee?"
The man frowned. "Please, Sil, do not toy with my son. He has a life to make."
Cube wrestled with phrasing. "I think I am asking your permission to date your son."
"But you are engaged to marry Yorick!"
"Not anymore, I think."
"What happened?"
"I broke his nose."
He looked amazed. "How--?"
"With this." She brought out the plastic L.
He whistled. "That would do it! But why?"
"He would have broken more than my nose, in time, and my heart. The man's a cad."
"No argument! But I never thought you would take such action."
"Things have changed. I also put Aunt Susan in her place, and will fire Accountant James."
Filip shook his head with amazement. "I am not saying they do not deserve it, Sil. But I have a problem, no offense intended, in understanding how you could have done it."
"This is why I need a friend. I have a secret, and I need help."
"Anything, Sil."
"I hope this will not change your mind. You must keep the secret even if you do not approve."
"I will."
Cube told him of the exchange, and what she hoped to accomplish.
"That explains an enormous amount," Filip said. "I do not think Silhouette ever could have done the things you did. She was never emotionally strong."
"Yes. She lacks gumption, which happens to be a quality I have too much of. It was a struggle for her to get up the nerve to overdose on pills, and she didn't take quite enough."
"But you say you will exchange back at midnight. Then she will have the same problem."