Metal Angels - Part One: (A Supernatural Thriller Serial)

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Metal Angels - Part One: (A Supernatural Thriller Serial) Page 9

by D K Girl


  ‘What information did you need when you watched me having sex by the pool?’

  ‘I told you. Just your whereabouts. The viewing was as unfortunate for our tech as it was for you. I can assure you.’

  ‘I can assure you, you are fucked up. Most sisters just call if they want to know where you are.’

  ‘Kira, stop. I need your help.’ Blake clutched the door hard. ‘Can you just do this, no smart mouth? No bullshit?’

  She braced for the inevitable retort, but it didn’t come. Kira stepped up close. Far too close.

  ‘I’ll do it because I think you are losing your shit,’ she said softly. ‘And anything that might piss off Captain Nex and Tamas is high on my to-do list. But promise me you will never, ever dress an android in our dad’s stuff again, Blake, and we are good.’ Kira nodded at the sneakers on Az’s feet. Scuffed black running shoes with a faded orange symbol on the heels. ‘You said you threw out all his things.’

  An odd prickling teased the backs of Blake’s eyes. ‘Those shoes are all I retained. Just go, Kira. I’ll call you. Don’t forget to take the faux skin for your arm.’

  Blake kept her gaze lifted, focused on her sister. Concealing the limb that had made Kira, and indeed herself, a B-grade celebrity was certainly prudent. If this went as Blake intended, they would not remain at the Wheel and Barrow.

  ‘Blake, I’m sorry you’re hurting so much. You need to –’

  ‘Go!’ Blake shouted. Azrael jerked against Kira’s hold. ‘Go, Kira.’

  Anger brightened Kira’s amber eyes. ‘And they say I’m the messed-up one. Fuck you, Blake. We’re gone.’

  She slammed the door, and the prints hanging either side shuddered against the wall. Blake slid to her knees, resting her head against the cool wood. It was done. She curled her trembling hands against her chest and waited for the panic to subside.

  Kira - 10

  Kira knew better than to stare at the steering wheel. It always made her want to heave, watching the smooth leather rotate back and forth as the automated car navigated its way to a destination. Her guts were saying, look away, but her head was too busy trying to work out her sister’s deal. True to Blake’s word, Gwen the wonder tech had met them and herded both Kira and Az into the vehicle, waving them past security after a few words to the guards. Kira dragged her gaze from the shifting wheel and up to the rearview mirror. Azrael still lay where he’d fallen, draped across the back seat like some Roman emperor, knees up, one arm resting in the footwell. His hoodie rode up, pulling the white T-shirt beneath with it, exposing his honey-coloured belly. The view was, admittedly, not terrible.

  ‘She’s lost it. My sister is certified.’ Kira sat in the front passenger seat, sneakers kicked off, bare feet up on the dash. ‘Did you see her face? Looked like the fucking hounds of hell were chasing her. The girl who doesn’t flinch in thunderstorms, didn’t bat an eyelid when that earthquake hit last year, is flipping out over you.’

  For most of the twenty-minute journey, Az had stared at the ceiling as though its beige surface were the roof of the goddamn Sistine Chapel.

  ‘I feel like I should feed you grapes or something. Sit up, dude.’ She swivelled in her seat, reaching for him, aiming for his exposed skin. Couldn’t help herself. Those stomach curves looked as though they’d feel velvety. She loved velvet. Her metal fingertips found faux skin.

  ‘Oh shit.’

  Contact was deliciously unpleasant, like hot wax on bare skin, before it jolted into something not so great – a shock of electricity shooting up her arm, and a blurring in her vision. Kira ripped her hand away, settling back on her haunches. Azrael sat bolt upright, his head knocking the roof.

  ‘What the fucking hell was that shit?’ Kira shook her metal limb. It tingled. No. Not tingled. It vibrated. Hummed like a dildo on low speed. ‘Okay. Weirdness has gone to defcon five. What did you just do, robo-boy?’

  She pressed her arm against her belly, her breathing coming in short intakes. Though the vibrating thing was disconcerting, it wasn’t exactly awful.

  Azrael did his usual thing, he stared. Only this time it wasn’t the vacant newborn look. His expression was soft and settled, as if for once he weren’t trying to peer into shadow. Kira leaned forward, holding her breath. The emerald-green of his eyes was impossibly vibrant. Tiny rust-coloured specks floated in the green pools, giving them a depth good enough to dive into.

  Jesus, she wanted to dive in. Sink down and drown.

  Azrael leaned forward to meet her, and Kira’s own reflection shimmered in his eyes. Her lungs ached with the need to breathe, but that could wait. Everything could wait. The world was waiting. Perfectly still.

  Something flickered in the depths of the tiny emerald lakes, a shadow passing beneath the surface. The car stopped dead. Kira gasped as the jolt pushed her back. Away from Azrael.

  ‘Okay.’ She squinted against the sudden dullness of the car’s interior. ‘That happened.’

  What the hell was that? She needed a cigarette and a lie down. The vibration in her arm was gone. Kira tugged at her cardigan, glancing down. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see her tits hanging out; the contact had smashed into her like a one-night stand in a nightclub toilet. But she was fully clothed. An odd sense of relief filled her. Az was beautiful, no doubt, and something freaky had just happened, but getting wet in the panties over it felt all kinds of wrong.

  He was a hot lump of dumb again. Mouth open, eyes vacant again. Slumped against the back seat. If he drooled, it wouldn’t surprise her.

  ‘God, what is going on, Blake?’

  She glanced at the wristband. Sending a mute, catatonic robo-boy out into the world with her pisshead sister wasn’t Blake’s usual MO. She craved control the way most people craved chocolate or heroin. Something was up in the Facility. Very high up. Granted, Kira had been quite adept at blending Eron in, if she did say so herself, but Eron was different. The guy could wipe his own ass. And though he had stunning eyes – if white eyeballs were your thing, which it turned out, for her, they were, who knew? – nothing hid in the depths of them. Or rose to the surface like a miniature aurora borealis.

  ‘So, mental note.’ Kira cleared her throat. ‘My metal and your metal, not such a good combination.’

  Fucking great combination actually. But she couldn’t sit in the pub touching up the mute, getting her kicks. She’d have to make sure it was flesh hand only for contact. ‘We’re going in there, okay?’ She nodded at the faded red door. The car had parked them in the alleyway alongside the pub, beside the staff entrance. Cat piss and rotten vegetables scented the air. ‘You ready?’

  Getting Az out of the car was surprisingly easy. He mimicked her. Right down to the overhead arm stretch she did when she stood up. Then things got adorable. Azrael ran his hand over the brick wall, fingers tracing the graffiti there.

  ‘First time seeing brick, huh? Always a memorable moment.’ Kira stood at the door. She should herd him inside, but it was too precious. He moved on to one of the dumpsters. Put both hands on it, moving along the side as though he were reading some kind of braille on the smooth metal. An old, disturbingly-stained mattress hung over the far edge. He made a beeline for it, and Kira considered stopping him for all of two seconds but watching him sniff the grotty fabric was amusing. And there’d been far too little amusement lately. The guy was all goggle-eyed and entranced, like a kid seeing snow for the first time.

  ‘You think that smells good, wait till you smell the inside of the Barrow,’ she said. ‘Beer-soaked carpet and toilets that will make your eyes water. But the vodka is good, and the curry divine. Let’s go.’

  Two hours in, everything was going well. As well as could be expected when babysitting a giant child. At just after nine on a Tuesday night, the pub had barely a dozen people in it. Mostly regulars. Most of them beyond bored with Kira’s ever-changing assortment of sidekicks, and after the initial interest when Kira had walked in, they’d all gone back to their beer and fish curries. Surprisingly, n
o one had complained yet about Perry’s music choice. K-pop tunes thudded through the speakers, loud enough to force everyone to yell-speak at their companions.

  Perry let the last few drops from a Moet bottle drip into a flute and handed it to Kira. ‘It is good to see your ugly mug again, K.’

  ‘Ditto, my friend. Forgot how damn huge your nose was.’

  Perry blew her a kiss. Kira feigned catching it and snorting it off the wooden bar top.

  ‘Sweetie,’ Perry said, ‘your new little friend is delightful, but whatever happened to that tall, lean piece you brought in a couple of times? One with the silver hair and lips like a slice of heaven?’ He threw the empty Moet with well-practised aim into a bin at the far end of the bar, where it joined the other bottle Kira had sucked back since they’d arrived. ‘Alice, go grab some more of those from the storeroom, will you?’ Perry called to the redhead clearing tables.

  She nodded, balancing an impressive pile of stacked plates against equally impressive breasts.

  Kira dipped her finger into the foam settling in her glass. To be fair, the first bottle was only half-full when she’d arrived. Someone else this evening had an appetite for expensive champagne.

  ‘Meh.’ She shrugged off mention of Eron as if he were a fly settling on her. ‘Got bored with him. He wouldn’t put out.’

  Perry scratched at the short-trimmed beard covering his chin. ‘Sweetheart, please. We’ve known each other too long. Occasionally, you dive a little too deep into someone, and that’s about the time you start fucking around. Booking in Liam till the poor guy’s dick is ready to fall off. That’s pretty much been your last couple of months. Hell, you left the country. Then you’re back for a week or two and you disappear again. Must have been love if Kira is on the run. And no prizes for guessing it was you who fucked up the happy-ever-after.’

  ‘Christ almighty, stick to sucking balls. It’s what you do best. You’re a shitty counsellor.’ Kira turned her back to her friend, leaning against the bar. She winced, remembering too late the bruise on her back where Blake had shoved her against the kitchen sink.

  ‘That’s why we get along so well, my dear. Shared talents.’ A soft whipping sound followed, and something snapped at her flesh arm. She turned to see Perry sauntering away, waving the black tea towel he’d just flicked at her like a victor’s flag, his pearly whites made even more luminous by the rich, deep shade of his skin. ‘You can pay for that shit he’s wasting, by the way.’

  He gestured towards the booth where Azrael sat pulling out each and every paper napkin from the dispenser, arranging them in a warped kind of snowflake design on the table. A woman stood at the end of the table, wobbling back and forth, a half-empty pint of golden goodness in her hands. She’d come into the pub about an hour after Kira and Azrael. Kind of hard to miss.

  Oompa Loompas had died and she’d bathed in their blood apparently. She was as orange as, well, an orange. The tan queen had spindly short legs and a shock of white hair that eclipsed Kira’s in the messy stakes. It might have been a bob once; now it was a bird’s-nest. A nest for bower birds apparently, the ones that collected shiny things. An assortment of clips and ribbons clung to random strands. The woman was way too interested in Azrael’s attempts at artistry.

  ‘That’s so beautiful,’ she of the dead Oompa Loompas declared, loud enough for some other patrons to glance her way.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ Kira sighed.

  ‘Quick, sweetie,’ Perry laughed, ‘she’s moving in on your territory.’

  Kira flicked him the bird. ‘Do something useful, like change that fucking music.’

  She strode towards the table, champagne safe in metal clutches. ‘Okay, show’s over, love. I need to talk with my man here. Private stuff.’

  Tan Queen turned towards her, stumbling against the edge of the table. Azrael glanced up, but his jade-greens didn’t so much as flicker over the orange catastrophe in front of him. It was all about Kira. His eyes locked on her like heat-seeking missiles. Even the drunken mess seemed to notice. Dark brown eyes darted between Kira and Azrael, flicking back and forth as if she were watching a tennis match. The chick was older than Kira had first thought. A roadmap of wrinkles made their way through the orange wasteland, but she wasn’t as unattractive as her hair. An old-lady stateliness was draped about her, her rouged cheeks resting around a smiling mouth.

  ‘Lady, please. Leave us alone.’ Kira swept her hand towards a couple of empty tables at the room’s centre. ‘Plenty of spare seats. You don’t need this one.’

  The smile faded. ‘No need to be so harsh. Just being friendly.’ She lifted one hand from the table to point at Azrael, and the movement made her rock. ‘He all right?’

  ‘Perfectly fine.’ Kira took the woman’s arm. ‘Go on, get yourself another drink or something.’

  A hint of spices wafted off the woman. Cinnamon or allspice or something else that should be in a bakery.

  ‘Righto, righto. No need to manhandle me, girlie.’ Tan Queen tugged her arm free of Kira’s grip with a strength that didn’t match her scrawny frame. ‘I’m leaving.’

  The woman studied Kira, her gaze dropping to her metal limb, then dragging itself up the length of the armadillo, as if she were counting each layer and saving it to memory.

  ‘Want to take a picture? It will last longer,’ Kira said. An oldie, but still a damn goodie. ‘Piss off, now.’ She flicked her metal fingers in that condescending way asshole villains did in movies. But Tan Queen was too busy staring at Kira’s hand to appreciate the Academy Award moment. She darted another look at Azrael, raised her beer to him, and then stumbled away, snaking her way across the crimson, leaf-patterned carpet, her skin colour clashing with it in a gut-wrenching way.

  Kira snatched the napkin dispenser from Azrael. ‘No more masterpieces, my friend. Too many trees died for the honour of being wiped across someone’s ketchup-soaked lips.’

  Azrael stared down at the deep brown table, fingers tracing the veins in the wood. Any second now dribble would run from his mouth. She stuffed a couple of napkins in her pocket and dumped the rest on the neighbouring empty table.

  ‘I’m fucking starving. How about we –’ Kira jerked at the sudden vibration against her hip. Scrambling to pull her phone from her slim-fitting pant pocket, Kira almost dropped it in her haste to get it to her ear. ‘Blake? About fucking time. Jesus, what is the –’

  ‘Kira, it’s time to go. Now.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Leave the pub.’ Blake’s voice rose over the music. ‘I want you to take Azrael. I need you to keep him hidden until this is . . . Kira can you hear me? That music is terribly loud.’

  ‘Heard you, yes, understood you, no. Keep him hidden? Hidden from Captain Asshat? B, did you finally smoke that weed I gave you? I reckon it’s probably stale as shit by now. Maybe go easy.’

  ‘Pay attention, Kira. The quicker we make this, the better,’ Blake said. ‘You need to leave there but not in the car you arrived in. I’m going to set the auto to head out of Pryden, maybe into Lorhurst. Are there any clubs there that you go to? Somewhere they’d expect you to go?’

  ‘There’s not even a Girl Scout clubhouse in Lorhurst. No. I do not go there. Blake. Seriously, you are not James Bond. Not even close. Tell me what the fuck is happening.’

  Long pause. So long Kira held the phone away from her ear to check the signal hadn’t been lost. ‘Blake?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what is happening. I’m not entirely sure myself.’

  Kira’s grip on the phone tightened. ‘Blake Beckworth uncertain? Then it’s the fucking apocalypse.’ She laughed, short and sweet, and took another swig of her champagne, watching Azrael dip a fingertip into a blob of ketchup clinging to the top of the squeeze bottle. Blake’s silence seemed to press on the room. Even the K-pop boys toned down their screeching.

  Finally, ‘I’m asking you to exercise your talent for running away, Kira.’

  ‘Insulting a person is generally not the best way to get
them to help you.’

  ‘It is not an insult. Do not take this phone with you. Leave it at the bar. Have Perry take you to the private airport on Lancaster Road. An aircraft is waiting for you. Say nothing to your friend of any of this. Have him believe you are simply leaving town. Again.’

  Azrael sniffed the tabletop. Kira glanced around the room. No one paid them any attention. Even the tan queen was preoccupied at the bar, sitting on a stool, shoving French fries into her mouth, drinking a freshly filled beer. Perry held up another bottle of Moët, brandishing it at Kira. She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Fuck yes, she needed another one.

  ‘A plane? Exactly how far am I taking the robot?’

  Another one of those long, weird pauses but this time she could hear her sister breathing. Long inhales and exhales.

  ‘There is money on the plane, cash. Use it for whatever you need.’

  ‘What do I need? I mean does he need nappies? Do I sing him to sleep at night?’

  Blake laughed. A knot coiled in Kira’s gut. Blake was not okay.

  ‘You just need to keep him away from here,’ Blake said. ‘For a while. Promise me you will say nothing to Perry. I understand there is a strong friendship between you.’

  Holy shitballs, had Blake just sounded melancholy? Kira pressed the phone against her ear. This was kind of fucking delicious. Blake had gone rogue, and she needed her help. Kira didn’t even give a shit why. Pathetic as it was, and damn, it was pathetic, Kira was getting off on being back on Blake’s radar of fucks given.

  ‘Haven’t told him about the aliens in the basement, your secret is safe with me.’ Always had been. Just in case Blake ever bothered to notice. ‘I’m not even sure what the secret is, so I think we’re all good. So where’s the plane taking us?’

  Honestly, this day was turning into the best fucking thing ever. Late-night flights to nowhere, hauling a stolen piece of tech that was probably worth more than the military’s entire manifest. A piece of tech that was rubbing ketchup on his lip as if it were a new lipstick shade.

 

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