Taming Two Warriors

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Someone behind them?” Kat asked, frowning. “You mean the girl that Melli doesn’t want to have to see anymore—the reason she’s dropping her classes?”

  “Exactly!” Jodi was relieved that her new friend caught on so quickly. “She’s just an absolutely horrible person.”

  She went on to tell Kat the details and her new friend’s eyes got wider and wider as Jodi talked. When she finished, Kat exclaimed,

  “My God—that girl is a sociopath. She shouldn’t be wandering around free—someone like that deserves to be locked away!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Jodi said angrily. “But of course, nobody is going to believe that she was the one behind Melli getting attacked. She’s this perfect, model-looking little bitch with gorgeous hair and big brown Bambi eyes and she wraps men around her little finger the minute she opens her mouth.”

  “But this is horrible!” Kat looked really upset. “Who knows how many other people she’s hurt the way she hurt Melli?”

  Jodi shrugged unhappily.

  “I have no idea and we may never know.”

  “If she was a man, Liosh probably would have ripped her to pieces, the way he killed the one who attacked Melli,” Kat said. “But I’m sure since this Amanda is a woman, he feels like he can’t touch her.”

  “Exactly.” Jodi nodded. “But I wish there was a way to punish her. At the very least, some way to indicate that she’s a bad person and make other people stay away from her so she can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Kind of a ‘Mark of Cain’ that sets her apart and warns everyone off her?” Kat asked.

  Jodi nodded. “Exactly! So she can never hurt anyone ever again! And so Melli won’t be afraid to go back to campus and finish her classes.”

  “You know, you just might have something there.” Kat looked thoughtful. “Have you met the little Tolleg surgeon we have on board called Yipper? He looks a little like a cross between a baboon and a hound dog.”

  “Yipper?” Jodi looked at her blankly. “Honestly no—I’m sure I’d remember him if I did meet him, though—he sounds unforgettable.”

  “Oh he is—he’s an excitable little guy.” Kat smiled fondly. “But he’s also a brilliant scientist and surgeon. I went to see him the other day and he was working on a new kind of gene therapy—something to do with the Kindred Mating Scent.”

  “Really?” Jodi was instantly interested. “That crazy Mating Scent is the main reason Vorn and I got together. His was so strong it was making me insanely horny for him—I literally couldn’t resist him.”

  “Yeah, the Mating Scent will get you every time,” Kat remarked. “But did you know that every once in a while a Kindred is born without the ability to make a Mating Scent? It’s really sad—inhibits their ability to attract a female and bond with a mate. Anyway, Yipper has been working on a way to help warriors like that develop and exude a Mating Smell so they can live normal lives. I guess you could call it olfactory/ pheromonal gene therapy.”

  “Okay…” Jodi wasn’t following. “That sounds sad and it’s really nice of, uh, Yipper to help, but what does any of this have to do with marking Amanda Brannigan as a bad person?”

  “Come on.” Kat tugged her by the arm. “Let’s go see Yipper and you’ll understand.”

  “Oh dear me, yes indeed, yes indeed.” Yipper nodded vigorously, his long ears flopping. “Bad smells are easy to make—too easy, in fact. Yes they are, yes they are!”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Kat said, nodding. “And how difficult is it to administer this therapy of yours? Would we have to bring the subject into the lab or what?”

  “Oh no, that would not be necessary. No it wouldn’t, no it wouldn’t.” This time Yipper shook his head, his furry ears flying. “All you would need to do is just inject the new gene under the skin—just a quick stick, yes indeed, yes indeed! The new gene would find its way to the subject’s DNA and begin replicating itself almost like a virus, replacing the old gene sequence with itself and making millions more until the subject was completely altered. It would happen in a matter of minutes. Yes it would, yes it would!”

  “Well that sounds simple enough,” Kat remarked. She grinned at Jodi. “Do you have an idea of where I’m going with this, doll?”

  Jodi grinned back.

  “You know, I think I do. Thank you, Kat—you’re full of good ideas.”

  “I got a million of ‘em,” Kat said with a laugh. She looked at Yipper. “Listen, Yipper—here’s what we need you to do…”

  Forty-Nine

  “Hello, are you Amanda Brannigan?”

  Amanda looked up from the perfume bottles she was sorting, frowning at the girl with long black hair and vivid green eyes. She looked vaguely familiar.

  “Oh, yes—hi,” she said, smiling in case the girl was some kind of secret shopper who worked for the store. Working retail was such a pain in the ass but at least Amanda had the cushiest job in the large department store. As a “beauty consultant” she spent most of her shift sorting makeup, arranging perfume bottles, and trying to make customers feel bad enough about themselves to buy the ridiculously overpriced products the store sold.

  “Well, I could sell you this lotion you picked for your face,” she might say to a woman who was getting into her 40s. “But there’s not much we can do about that waddle under your chin unless you’re willing to buy a good-quality firming cream.” She would shake her head. “Honestly, it might be too late already. But maybe if you started the new cream today…”

  Or she might talk about a customer’s weight.

  “This bronzing powder is really going to help you contour your face and hide the pudginess,” she’d say.

  Or their age.

  “Have you thought about wearing a lighter shade of foundation to try and minimize the fine lines around your eyes and mouth? I have something here that will make you look sixty again. What’s that—you’re only fifty-four? Oh dear…well, I think it’s clear you need this badly…”

  There were endless ways to sell a customer on the various products stocked behind the clear glass case and since Amanda worked on commission, she was extremely good at all of them. Also, it was fun to see their faces fall when she negged them—giving a backhanded compliment that hurt—or played on their sense of insecurity.

  Amanda had always been thin and gorgeous her entire life—she’d been winning beauty pageants since she was two—so she had no sympathy for women who let themselves go around looking less than perfect. There was just no excuse for being ugly, in her opinion. Ugly people deserved to be put down and told exactly how disgusting they were. Honestly, she was doing them a favor—they needed to know how the world really saw them. And most of them ought to be staying home anyway—not inflicting their ugly-ass-selves on society.

  Of course, most of the women who visited her were just stupid old cows, though when the young girls came in to get their makeup done for Prom, Amanda had fun with them too.

  “Are you going to put out for him tonight?” she might ask in a conspiratorial whisper, as she worked to get a girl’s blush or lipstick just right. “I’d do it if I were you. You’re never going to get another date with him if you don’t. Besides, Prom sex is practically a tradition—everybody does it! And don’t worry about making him wear a condom—everybody knows you can’t get pregnant on the first time.”

  Yes, there were endless ways to be awful and Amanda knew them all. So as she sized up the girl with the black hair and green eyes, she was wondering how she could sell her on one of the overpriced products in stock. If she could make her feel bad enough to buy one of the “Whole Body Beauty Kits” the store was pushing, she’d make enough commission to get that new skirt she’d had her eye on for so long…

  “Do I know you?” she asked, giving the new customer her brightest smile. “You look familiar.”

  “Maybe because you know my sister,” the girl said, putting out her hand.

  Amanda took the offered hand and started to shake but a sudden sharp pai
n stabbed into her palm.

  “Ouch! What was that?” she gasped, yanking her hand away. Looking down, she saw a tiny drop of blood welling in the palm of her hand. “You cut me!”

  “Oh, sorry,” the other girl said pleasantly. “My ring must have got you.” She held up her hand, flashing a flawless many-faceted ruby surrounded by diamonds. “Engagement ring,” she explained. “I’m due to get married next month.”

  “Oh, well that’s wonderful,” Amanda said, blotting her palm on a tissue and trying to smile.

  Brides were easy sells—they would buy anything to make their big day perfect. Mentally, she promised herself to make this bitch pay through the nose for poking her with that ridiculously huge engagement ring.

  “So I’m guessing you want someone to do the makeup for your wedding?” she asked, brightly.

  “Well, I was hoping to find something new,” the girl said. “Maybe you could show me some skin care products?”

  “Certainly.” Amanda prepared to go into her sales-pitch, but honestly, she suddenly didn’t feel too well. She had a woozy, slightly dizzy feeling that made her put a hand to her head for a moment.

  “Are you all right?” the girl asked.

  “Fine—just a little light-headed for a minute. There—I’m better now.” And Amanda did feel better. She smiled brightly and began to put out the most expensive skin-care products in stock. “I’m sure you’re looking for something really special to make that dull skin glow so you can start looking beautiful in time for your wedding,” she remarked. “You’re probably going to want to do a whole beauty routine and if I were you, I’d get started right away.”

  The girl only smiled and nodded, apparently not affected by the hint about her skin.

  Just then, a senior beauty consultant—an old bitch named Janice—came behind the counter to get something. She started to dig around under the counter—even though she could clearly see that Amanda was trying to make a sale—but then she stopped and straightened up. Her nose wrinkled and she stared at Amanda.

  “Amanda, what kind of perfume have you been spraying over here? It smells awful.”

  “What?” Amanda shot her a glare, trying to let her know she ought to shut up and leave before she lost the lucrative sale.

  “I said, whatever perfume you’re spraying, please stop. And maybe we should ask Mr. Hornfetter to come over—I think whatever it is has gone off somehow.”

  Mr. Hornfetter was the beauty sales manager—the same man Amanda had charmed to get her job in the first place. He was forty, fat, and balding—not to mention stupid enough to think that Amanda might someday be willing to sleep with him. Of course, she’d never said as much, but she’d certainly implied it. She’d opened her blouse just enough to show some cleavage and licked her lips a lot during the interview—naturally he’d hired her on the spot.

  “I don’t smell anything,” she said, trying to keep herself from snarling in irritation. “Do you mind, Janice? I’m with a customer.” She nodded at the girl with green eyes who was standing there silently, waiting for the exchange with Janice to be over.

  Janice’s nose wrinkled.

  “But I think it’s getting worse.” She looked at Amanda’s customer. “Excuse me, Miss, but do you smell that?”

  The girl nodded.

  “I’m afraid so. I don’t want to be rude but it smells kind of like a cross between dog crap and rotten eggs with maybe just a whiff of skunk thrown in. Oh, and hot garbage too. I’m definitely getting some dumpster diving notes in there.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.” Janice stepped away quickly, coming out from behind the counter. “Ugh—it’s everywhere!”

  “This is ridiculous.” Amanda frowned at her. “I don’t smell anything. I’ll go get Mr. Hornfetter myself!”

  She marched out from behind the counter, intending to find the sales manager and complain about Janice butting in while she was talking to a customer. Maybe she could even get the old bitch fired—that would be good. Amanda didn’t smell a thing—it was clear that Janice was just trying to steal her sale.

  As she marched swiftly down the aisle, looking for her boss, she failed to notice the wrinkled noses and indrawn breaths of the people she passed. Some of them put their hands over their noses and mouths and one woman actually gagged. But Amanda was much too intent on thinking exactly what to say to get her coworker fired, to pay any attention.

  At last she found Mr. Hornfetter, carefully arranging a new display of luxury lipsticks that cost an exorbitant amount. His back was to her but the overhead lights flashed off his shiny bald head, so Amanda knew it was him.

  She stopped for a moment to unbutton the top button of her blouse and show some cleavage before she went up to touch her boss on the shoulder. She’d already gotten one other coworker fired this way—an awful old hag name Beatrice Johnson.

  Beatrice had been getting all the shifts Amanda wanted in the middle of the day just because she had kids in school and was always whining about how she had to be at work early so she could be home in time to help them with their homework. Amanda had actually been forced to work the evening shift several times to accommodate the other woman’s schedule—and she’d missed out on some excellent parties that way.

  Fortunately, a word in Mr. Hornfetter’s ear about how she’d seen Beatrice slipping high-end cosmetics into her bag had put an end to that. And Amanda had made certain to shore up her story by palming an expensive little pot of cheek stain and putting it into her coworker’s purse right before accusing her.

  It still made her laugh to remember the shocked look on Beatrice Johnson’s stupid cow face when Security had asked to look through her purse and the guard had found the blush. Beatrice had stuttered and stammered and turned bright pink—she couldn’t have looked more guilty if she’d tried.

  Amanda, of course, had stood by looking virtuous and sad—as though it truly broke her heart to see a fellow employee stealing. Afterwards, Mr. Hornfetter had thanked her for her bravery and honesty and she’d murmured something about just wanting to help.

  After that, Amanda got any shift she wanted.

  She was already planning what to say to get Janice fired too—that disgusting old bitch had been getting on Amanda’s nerves for days. But before she could tap Mr. Hornfetter on his pudgy shoulder, he turned around, his nose already wrinkling.

  “Oh, hello, Amanda,” he said frowning. “What is that terrible smell?”

  “What smell?” Amanda demanded impatiently. Honestly, what was everyone talking about?

  “It’s just…really bad.” He shook his head. “A customer must have brought something in. Or maybe a rat died behind one of the walls. I’ll have Security look for it.” He looked at Amanda. “Now then, my dear—what can I do for you?”

  “Well…” Amanda made her eyes big and woeful. “You know me, Mr. Hornfetter, I don’t like to complain about anybody but sometimes you just have to speak up, you know?”

  “I suppose.” Her boss nodded neutrally. “Did someone bother you, Amanda?”

  “As a matter of fact…” Amanda took a step towards him, meaning to run her fingers down his shoulder seductively. The trick was to make him think she wanted to sleep with him, though naturally she’d rather lick a toilet brush than get anywhere near the bald old goat.

  But to her surprise, Mr. Hornfetter took a sudden step from her.

  “I’m sorry, Amanda,” he said in a slightly strangled voice. “But I think maybe that smell is coming from you. Did you step in something?”

  “What?” Amanda exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look on the bottoms of your shoes,” Mr. Hornfetter ordered. “Did you walk through a dog park before coming to work today?”

  “Of course not—I don’t own any dogs!” Amanda protested.

  Still, she picked up her feet and looked at the bottoms of her low-heeled work shoes anyway. Of course there was nothing there.

  “See—nothing,” she said impatiently. “Anyway, I
came to tell you that Janice is trying to steal my sale!” She took another step towards him but Mr. Hornfetter stepped back so quickly that he knocked over the display of expensive lipsticks he’d been working on so carefully. Shiny rectangular boxes flew everywhere, skittering across the polished floor like expensive beetles.

  Mr. Hornfetter swore under his breath and bent down to pick the shiny little rectangular boxes up off the floor. Amanda bent reflexively as well, to help, but her boss’s nose wrinkled again and he scooted away.

  “Amanda, please! Since it’s clear you didn’t step in something, I have to think that smell is coming from you,” he told her. “If you’re having excessive flatulence today, I can get someone else to cover your shift.”

  “What?” Amanda was horrified. Was everyone going crazy today? What was this awful smell everyone kept talking about that everyone but her could smell? What was going on?

  As she backed away from the spilled lipsticks, Janice came back with several other coworkers. She was whispering to them in a really obvious way, Amanda thought sourly. Exactly the way she and her girl friends on the cheer squad used to whisper about whatever fat, pimply, disgusting kid they wanted to torment in the cafeteria back in high school. One of them—Eric Dawson, who worked in men’s fragrances, took a step towards Amanda, sniffed, and took a quick step back.

  “Oh my God, you’re right!” Amanda heard him mutter to Janice. “She does smell like dog crap!”

  “Hey!” Amanda couldn’t take any more. She stormed over to her coworkers, who all backed up hurriedly, most with their hands over their noses. “How dare you all talk about me like I’m not here? And what smell? I don’t smell anything at all!”

  “That’s because you can’t smell your own personal odor—your body gets used to it and you can’t actually tell when you stink,” a voice murmured behind her.

  Amanda whirled around to see the girl with black hair and green eyes giving her an extremely satisfied smile.