Exquisite Possession: A Dark Scifi Romance (The Machinery of Desire Book 4)

by Cari Silverwood

  “If you’re staying for me…I could wait here. Though really…what can you do to him? He was a man of power with a small army of men.”

  “No longer,” JI said, musing. “He may have some still. I’m not sure. However, M, I’m still not going. You can go.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous for M?” She looked from him to the aunt.

  “No. You haven’t seen what he can do. I saw him pounce on a flying sniker once and rip it apart in mid-air. “Why do you need me M? He cannot have restored a JI mech. He needed a mind to make it live, remember?”

  “Very well!” he huffed, lowering his agitated limbs. “I will leave in a few days. If you come, I will be immensely pleased. You know it is what we should do. No one else is capable. The landships won’t risk their vehicles. Ryke cannot do anything. The scavs? They are not organized or knowledgeable.”

  “The judge has been blessed, I suppose, and so can live on the land. But a threat? No. Besides, I am only a scav, if a large one. I have nothing to add to such a mission. You are stronger without me. Now, I am returning to the tower after I see this reservoir. Co-ordinates, please.”

  Curious how she felt disappointed. As if she wanted JI to show his heroism and march off to defeat her nemesis, the judge. She wished no harm on JI either. His decision was a smart one.

  Still, in all that she’d seen happen in this world, it would be nice to see a hero take the helm and steer it to a better place. So much hate, vilification of others, so much conflict. Aerthe needed a hero.

  Maybe that was Aunt M’s role?

  She hoped so. Somebody with balls and morals should be in charge. M had morals, it appeared. Balls? He might have ball-bearings, Fern mused, as she followed JI. Those would do.

  Aunt M, superhero of Aerthe.

  Chapter 12

  Fern had a similar fantasy to the one he’d seen in his mind? A spiked cock, for pierced with hard metal seemed close to the same.

  JI wondered how easy that would be to do. Organic bodies did not spring back into place when cut or dented. You could not simply put a new bit of flesh to them and glue it on, rivet or screw it on. No.

  That would hurt – having spikes put in his cock.

  Might it fall off it done wrong? One of the best things about being a man was having one. He should ask someone about this, yes.

  This deliberation sent his imagination sidling into dark places again. Fucking Fern in a dark alley with his spiked cock. Definitely inspirational. He liked this idea far too much.

  He sat up in the bed they’d made on the tower’s top floor from various bits of salvaged beds and sofas, and smacked Fern on her butt.

  It was naked and peeking out from the covers. She deserved that. Clearly, he’d not smacked hard enough, as she only grumbled.

  The handprint appeared in pink and white on her cheek.

  “Today we forage. M found a few stores, a few places to look. I wish to find piping for the plumbing, and…” He vaguely waved his hands, being unsure at present as to his requirements. “Stuff. Good stuff. Like ropes. Yes. I will sketch you today also. My book has blank pages.”

  She peered out with one opened eye. “You can draw?”

  “Definitely. It’s only lines.”

  Her snort sounded derogatory, but he let it past. Today he would also find a collar for her. That would quieten her. Bring her to heel. Again, he had to question how he knew that since he’d never put a collar on a woman before.

  Perhaps this was intuition?

  He saddled up Arthur and Martha for this exploration and foraging day, finding them in the vicinity of the tower where last left. They could fend for themselves in most areas, and if worried would’ve come to him, even if they had to squeeze through the front door of the tower.

  Following the list of co-ordinates, they set out into what was hopefully less pawed-over sections of Owler.

  The city was a maze of blocked streets and sunken streets, unexpected waterways, and crumbled buildings. Trees, shrubs, and grass also had staked claims where the soil was thick enough, and in a few high niches on buildings.

  Those could be the remains of century-old gardens.

  As the loss of their previous owners, Sawyer and Ari, had faded, the jaggs had bonded closer to him. They loved him unconditionally, and he them – in spite of their persistence in eating meat. Herbivores were what they should be by now, yet they stole snacks of meat from his supplies. He chided them, then they did it again. Incorrigible creatures.

  He had spare collars in the saddle bags, now that he thought of it. Jagg collars, from when they were pure carnivores and slightly smaller in the neck. They’d likely be too big for Fern?

  Whenever they paused to check terrain, Martha eyed Fern’s black pants and boots, swinging her head to nuzzle and to sniff the toe of the boot.

  The places found by Aunt M were so far of zero use. Old stores, warehouses, various businesses. Their goods were too rotted, too old, too damaged by water and weather, or near impossible to reach safely. Still, there was far more than seemed likely after so much time. Had mekkers reduced the population of this world to such a degree that so few were left to scavenge? Or was this city a terrible place that was largely avoided?

  Monster season, the name bothered him.

  “Are those boots animal hide?” JI clicked, and Arthur ambled closer to Martha and Fern, where they’d stopped on the slope of the jigsaw-cracked road.

  Rocks skittered backward under Arthur’s hooves. The jagg’s eight legs made climbing most things possible. If unsaddled, they’d happily leap to places he’d need a rope and pitons to negotiate.

  “I think so? Not sure. Pilf found these for me.” She patted her thigh. I don’t know what materials they use for clothes here. Doesn’t seem much left of what was here before the mekkers invaded. Few industries. They must have lost near everything in the wars.”

  “And still haven’t recovered. My makers, the mekkers, have much to be blamed for.”

  “True.” She half-smiled. “So…you were used by them when a JI mech for what?”

  “War, of course. I was a battle mech. One of the best.” He nodded to himself. “Long ago I was in the war. I killed, destroyed, on order. When Emery woke me, I found I’d lost the will to kill. She was rather annoyed by that.”

  He chuckled and stroked Arthur’s neck. The beast swung his head, twitched his antlers so they tilted, as if fascinated by the caress. His big eyes rolled.

  “Why?”

  “I almost got her killed. We were attacked in a town by scavs. I just could not shoot them.”

  He could now. He’d killed Osta, though the first new kill was the wolf-spider mech. Osta taught him to lie. Ari to betray. The wolf spider mech brought back an ability he’d had before – killing without remorse. Or…very little.

  “That sounds almost a good trait. There are few pacifists here.” The wrinkles appearing on her brow charmed him.

  The small things humanoids did were often nuances of their temper, of situation, of personal history. The complexities abounded.

  “Yes. But also a bad trait since it leaves you defenseless.”

  Martha did a sudden jerk and leaped sideways and Fern was almost thrown. A black-and-white mechling had scurried under the jagg. Fern gasped an ouch and gripped her side.

  That would be her metal staples.

  “They hurt?” He indicated her side.

  “Yes. Sometimes. No, you’re not removing them.”

  “I did not intend to. A mechling with the doctor program put those in. Aunt M might know more, but not I.”

  “Good.” Fern gazed down the dead-end street showing past the rise. At the very bottom of the street was a store with double doors. To either side of them the frontage was boarded up. “That could be promising?”

  “It could. Aunt M marked it as a good site. Let’s go see.” He gave Arthur a tap of his heel, and they started forward with Fern riding alongside.

  Though the street was deserted, up high something d
odged into the light then was gone, leaving only small fragments bouncing down the façade of the buildings it’d perched on. JI checked the sheath where his long gun resided. Wise not to dismiss all the local beasts as lesser things he could defeat easily. Some might be food, others might want to eat them.

  He was no longer close to invincible. One of his few regrets.

  “Where do you get your food from most days, Fern?”

  “I shot some. Cut off meat.” She shuddered. “I kinda hate having to cut something up though. I need cans, packets! Chocolate… I crave champagne and chocolate. Pilf and the grounders gave me food too. Some of the creatures here have way too many legs. No offense, Martha.” She reached down to pat her jagg’s neck. “They showed me how to tell what plants are okay to eat.”

  JI shifted in the saddle, scanning side to side. The closed-in street with the heavy shadows was creepy. “We bought some preserved goods in towns. I’ve been relying on Aunt M a lot for plant identification. She has a memory that goes back to before the war. One of the few, maybe the only, intact memory like that. Everything else got scrambled.”

  Maybe it was time to tell her one of his secrets? Although secrets lost value when revealed.

  “Remember I said I was a JI mech on the same landship as Emery?”

  “Yes.” She turned her head. “Why?”

  “I was there the day your sentence was carried out.” The day the judge stabbed you. “I knew in advance. Emery was very sad and worried. She was my friend.” Still is, he hoped. “I wanted to help her and you. I loaded doctor and surgery programs onto mechlings that had gone sun mad. Ones I thought likely to be dropped from the landship the same time you were.”

  “You saved me then? You, JI? Oh my god. Thank you! This, me being alive, was because of you. I cannot ever thank you enough. Though it is weird – imagining you as a machine.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad I did that. I had hoped it’d helped, then I found you and knew for sure.”

  And now he was glad he’d said this too. Anything to balance the bad things he intended to do to her. Because wanting to fuck her tied up was surely bad. He resisted squirming in the saddle, sighed. Was it bad if she liked it?

  JI dismounted and decided to leave the jagg loose so Arthur could do what he did so well – dismember anything that attacked.

  “Let’s go see what’s in there.” The double red doors were more splintered mess than recognizable doors. Inside looked dark. He pulled a few of the ever-lights from his bag, threw one to Fern, unsheathed his gun.

  “JI, I’m glad too.” Then she went up onto her toes, reached up to his neck, and pulled him down for a quick, deep kiss.

  That brightened the day.

  The gentle press of her lips on his lingered. The brief flicker of tongue. Where could he go to fuck her? Not here. No, not here. Too dangerous.

  “The mechlings never said it was you that loaded the programs.”

  “Unlikely they’d know me. Even then I did it incognito, using the ship’s system.”

  “Of course.” Her smile warmed him almost more than her kiss.

  He’d done good.

  Still didn’t mean he should tell her everything.

  They walked into the darkness, past dusty crates with nothing of use, spreading their light, moving from room to room through doors and gaps in walls and corridors. The walls felt as if they were coming nearer. If they fell on him and Fern, he did not have the strength to free them. Sobering.

  This was fear. Strangely he feared for her as much as for himself.

  “We should go back,” he decided. “I’m not sure we’re in the same building anymore.”

  The floor had lowered also; there’d been stairs.

  “I wonder what M saw? Those crates in the first room? Sporting goods, I think. A good ol’ hockey stick can be lethal, but I doubt it beats a gun, or any of the big knives or swords I’ve seen.”

  He turned to retreat.

  “Wait. There’s a light ahead, through that doorway. Is it sunlight?”

  He didn’t think so, but light was odd enough to draw him. JI walked to the doorway.

  Inside was a large room where much of the floor had become a pool of water. “That smells of the sea.”

  Above the pool dangled an intense blue light and gave the walls a blue tint. The perfectly still pool mirrored the light. What powered the light? He took a single step, only to be brought short by Fern’s hand clamped around his wrist.

  “Wait!” she whispered harshly. “I think I know what this is. What it’s like. An angler fish. They live deep in the oceans on my world. See how a long strand rises from the pool, behind the light. The shadow of it shows on the far wall. I think…that is connected to some creature lurking in the pool.”

  “That is a huge jump in logic.” But in his mind, he felt her sureness.

  “What else could power this light, this deep? It must be animal. Unless a scav came down here and set something up?”

  If an organic source, how did this aid the creature? “The light is bait?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He began to back up. Once at the doorway, he added, “What can it find to eat here this deep in a building?” An object at the edge of the pool, that he’d thought a partially buried ball, looked suspiciously like the back of a skull. A ripple spread from the middle of the pool.

  Time to go.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it’s lost and swam here by accident. Maybe it got a party invitation.”

  JI doubted the latter. Ahh, it was a joke. A desperate joke from the tone of voice.

  He couldn’t resist… “If I shot the light, this might prove your theory? The creature might rise up?”

  “Fuck that idea.” She hauled on his wrist. “That is the stupidest, most suicidal… Now I know you were once a mech for sure!”

  Grinning, he let her tow him. Of all the things for her to take as proof.

  A sound that resembled the swirling of water, came from the room as they hurried down the corridor. For once, he wished he still had a heavy cannon embedded in his body, just like old times.

  Halfway to the entrance, she started up a quiet conversation. “Pilf said he saved me because I was a mission he’d been given by his god. He went to some chasm where he believes Aerthe manifests itself. Strange, but maybe no stranger than what was back in that room.”

  “So you are a mission from god?” How curious. He took such things seriously, most Aerthe people would.

  Fern laughed softly. “Yes.”

  “You are special then.”

  “Eh. I guess. Change of topic. Tell me about this Osta. What sort of a man was he?”

  This direction of topic did not please him.

  “How did you come to know him? You did know him?”

  “I did, yes. He was a good man in some ways. He aimed to kill mekkers, but for the good of his people.”

  “That’s what started most wars on my planet. He died in battle? I remember you said that. Is there none of him left in you? It’s a weird question, I know, but I feel I should know more about you, JI.”

  Then she touched his arm and gifted him with a smile and a raising of her eyebrows.

  JI stared back. “I will tell you what I can.”

  If he told the truth, she would fear him, and he didn’t want that, and so now he must lie to her.

  The irony.

  This must be what humans called a white lie.

  Chapter 13

  “Let’s wait until we get somewhere safe.” Avoiding answering might be best, until he decided what to say.

  “Sure.”

  The labyrinthine passages of this underground area were enough to try his brain, which underlined how poorly it performed.

  “Which way?” he eventually asked, after they’d dragged themselves over a collapsed step he’d forgotten seeing.

  “That way, I’m fairly sure.” Panting, she waggled her finger toward a door at the end of the corridor.

  Turning into
it revealed a clear line of their footprints coming in.

  Fern was a good compass. He’d been relying on Aunt M too much.

  “You go first.” He’d heard odd noises behind them, squishy ones, as if something large and damp negotiated the same maze they had. There seemed a brightening also, with walls acquiring wavering shadows.

  After some minutes, the sounds lessened and behind them became dead black. He focused his attention on where they were going.

  The view was prettier.

  Ogling Fern’s ass constantly, with the illumination from his light showing every nook and cranny of her snugly-clad butt – was this normal?

  Did males ever stop ogling?

  They emerged into the street, squinting at the glare of their surroundings.

  “We are uneaten.” JI wiped away sweat using his forearm.

  “Uneaten?” Fern mounted her jagg then reined her about, eight legs clopping and rearranging, to face the street.

  “There was something following us, for some time. I thought it best not to inform you.”

  “Oh.” Wide-eyed, she looked into the building. “Was it, you know…that?”

  “Possibly.” He’d distracted her from Osta anyway. “It made wet sounds, so I think it likely. Let’s get to the next place.”

  On the ride Fern remained quiet, and it let him compose the words he might use.

  He knew how not to begin. When I pithed Osta’s brain with a metal rod was what not to say.

  The entry to the next place was yet another hole going into darkness, on yet another obliterated street.

  Resigned to finding nothing, he climbed through the ragged cavity, past a barricade of scattered boxes, and was surprised at what lay ahead.

  Aisles of perfectly preserved…stuff. Too much dust lay atop for them to know what was inside, without cleaning it off. Fern was overjoyed.

  “All our Christmases at once!”

  “Is that good?”

  “Yes! Well, it depends on what this all is. Being the last person alive on Earth was a childhood fantasy of mine. Though owning all the shops isn’t so great when they’ve turned to dust and mold.” She advanced for a second. “Hey. Now is a good time to tell me about Osta? Here is safe.”