Rutger

by Cari Silverwood

“I think we are freaking Cyn out.” Willow grinned. “Let’s give her some room.”

  Maura began looking for a seat. Vincent shrugged and perched against the wall opposite the door, a couple of yards toward the front. Past him, further along this wide tubular compartment, a partial divider was visible then a cockpit slash cabin slash whatever the driver’s area was called, where she glimpsed two red-upholstered seats and a pair of steering wheels.

  “This is Big Daddy?” She placed her hand over Rutger’s where it lay on her thigh and she realized she was wearing a backless white gown. “Who took all my clothes?”

  “Yes, this is Big Daddy.” Rutger steadied her. “He’s not spoken since we arrived, but the vehicle has power.”

  “He,” she murmured. Why were all the AIs called he? Okay, with a name like Big Daddy she could see the point. But how big was Big Daddy?

  She scanned from the cockpit to Vincent and Willow, then over the table, where a seated Maura met her eyes. Behind her and to her left were a microscope and white cabinets, chairs, lots of dingle-whatsit science stuff she didn’t recognize, further left was another table, and another divider with the door closed.

  “So, did you make me better than before? I feel like I’ve turned into a butterfly you stuck in a jar. Can I claim on insurance for floppy limbs?”

  Everyone kept staring, their expressions a mixture of pained, sad, or something in between. Rutger squeezed her where he’d wrapped his arms around her to stop her from toppling. After clearing her throat, Willow stepped forward, placing her hand on the corner of the table.

  “We’re surprised you’re alive. We did what we aimed to. Maura took samples from several different beasters and she’s cultivated nanites from us. Yours and Vincent’s have similarities, and they grow faster.”

  “You grow them in what? Blood?”

  “No, in a material I found here, made for the purpose,” Maura answered. “I microtomed and stained the Ghoul Lord sample Vincent gave me and found something that would bond to it that Willow could sense. It was however a potentially deadly chemical. Considering your healing powers—”

  “And that you were dying anyway,” Willow interjected.

  Her lips pinched in, then Maura continued. “We injected it via IV infusion. We took a chance, a leap of faith as Rutger called it.”

  She nodded and felt him threading his big fingers through hers. “Okay. It was a good call.” She pressed her hand onto his fingers, took a breath.

  “And so, then I had to see if I could help you kill off what was inside you.” Grimacing, Willow perched herself on the table’s corner. “I wasn’t sure I could because, when I looked inside you, your brain was lit up like a Christmas tree.”

  Oh shit. She blinked at Willow. “But I’m here.”

  “Yeahhh, no fucking clue why. Really. Pardon the swearing. I had to hope you could heal what those things were doing, had done to you, plus any damage that might occur when I went after them. Maura decided to inject some of your own nanites into your cerebrospinal fluid. Vincent showed her how. And again, destroying your brain was a side effect we had to consider. I crushed the tentacles as much as I could, I think the deadly stuff that stuck to them did something too. And you and those nanites did the rest.”

  “So…” She gulped, thought. “I really did have bits of Ghoul Lord inside me?”

  Willow laughed. “That, or I was hallucinating. Whatever it was, our treatment worked. I can’t see anything wrong in there anymore. I figure you must have titanium in your veins, something far beyond what any ordinary human ever had, Cyn. You have a clean brain.”

  “Oh hell,” Vargr muttered. “I fuckin’ hope not.” He smiled at her.

  She favored him with a raised eyebrow then reached across with her unoccupied hand. Now both her beasters were holding her hands. It felt like she was in kindergarten again with her two best buddies by her side. Which was a little too platonic for her ovaries.

  Kindergarten? She searched her memories but nothing else surfaced. Still a nobody, way back in her past.

  “I just hope I get to walk again.” She stared at where her hands lay, clasped in Rutger’s and Vargr’s. “Because I need to.” The fire in her heart surged, rebuilt, peaked, seemed to course along the arteries and veins of her body. “I need to stand up and go kill those fuckers.” Killing them would be so satisfying. Did her eyes blaze, because it felt so. She raised her head then pushed herself off Rutger’s lap, slowly. He slipped his hands to her waist. This time her legs held her weight, even if her muscles were quivering. “Are you with me?”

  “Mmmm. We all are.” The frown on Willow’s forehead said she was dubious. “First, though, we need to get you a walking frame.”

  Her eyeroll did not seem to impress anyone. Maybe she should take this slower? The itch to do something was maddening.

  “Have you been through that door yet?” She indicated the closed one.

  “Yes.” Rutger stood, his hands readjusting. “Would you like a tour?”

  Then it struck her what was missing from this. They’d come here to discover who they were, what those nanites had done to them, and what Maelstrom was. No one looked even vaguely ready to blurt out that amazing information. Had they failed? Or had they been too busy keeping her alive?

  It would be, technically, ungrateful to complain if the latter was true. Also technically, if her nanites were this good at healing damage, why not inject them into every beaster?

  Because they were afraid to, because they still didn’t understand what she was? Or was she miles ahead of them with that bit of logic?

  Fuck-it. Whoever said she had tact?

  “First, tell me that you’ve found out what we are?”

  Vincent puffed out his mouth. Maura looked sheepish. Vargr shrugged and looked to Willow.

  “Why am I the fall guy?” She wiped her hands over her face and looked far wearier than Cyn had ever seen before. “We don’t know, yet. We can access Big Daddy through Little Mo. We know he’s running a program to correct some big system problems. Little Mo is worried it’s stuck looping, but Locke says no. I looked inside him, and he’s just too complex for me to figure out easily.”

  “Is this relevant?”

  “However…” She nodded at Cyn. “Have patience, woman. This needs context. Okay, bottom line. Big D has nothing about this except the timeline for beaster creation and what I’d call the scaffolding of the experiments. What the nanites are derived from is probably hidden in some paperwork we found back there, beyond that door. It’s not indexed, it’s messy, but then the invasion was happening. It’s mixed in with archaeological stuff the doctor was running. There are thousands upon thousands of pages of hand-written notes in his office. Big Daddy was possibly wiped clean or excluded from this data, on purpose.”

  They didn’t know. Still.

  This lack overshadowed her own survival and cast a depressing cloak over her feelings.

  “Then I guess we have a lot of reading to do?”

  “That’s our goal. Rutger and Vargr have started, but we need more time.”

  They all murmured agreement. She wasn’t sure who, precisely, she was too busy staring at that door.

  Willow cleared her throat. “There’s something else, Cyn. Something I have to tell everyone. At the moment it’s a secret.”

  “What’s that?” She was no longer the focus of their stares, Willow was.

  “Before I will say, I want to give you time to heal. I really need to find out if you can still control the Lure. It only stopped when you got those GL pieces in you. Right?”

  “Okay. Why?” Her thoughts ticked by. Willow must intend to go closer to the Top or somewhere she thought the Ghoul Lords might be.

  “Not yet. Please. Go on that tour with your beasters. Shoo. Wait. Get that drip out of your arm first.”

  “Oh.” She ripped it out, watched the blood that leaked swell into a tiny dot and stop. She even clotted better than a human. Yet there was always a downside to being superhuman i
n the movies. “What’s my kryptonite?” she muttered to herself.

  “Say that again?” Rutger ducked lower and met her gaze. His horns curled above, as impressive as ever, dripping blue motes that ebbed in intensity as they fell. Her beautiful beaster.

  She shook her head, smiled, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Nothing. Thank you, both of you, for watching over me. You went far beyond what I could ever have hoped for…” Or at least, as far as her amnesiac self could remember.

  “It was our pleasure.” That was softly said, and he lifted her hand and kissed the back, same as Vargr had been doing. She’d never realized Rutger had some gentleman in his make-up.

  When everyone had left them alone and he and Vargr were helping her dress again, because her arms and legs were still being idiotic, he leaned down to kiss her on the mouth. “You’re our pretty fuck-toy. Of course it was a pleasure.”

  Vargr moved in behind her, tugging her jeans and zipping them at the front. He slipped his hands beneath the waistline and cupped over her mons, squeezing there. She gasped, closing her eyes. Being a sandwich between these two had to happen soon.

  “Fuck, stop teasing me, both of you.”

  “Luv, babe… Dream on.” Vargr licked her ear, her neck, the warmth of his breath and voice sifting over her skin. “You provoke us, we tease you. Teasing you is our favorite sport.” His finger curled into her slit and penetrated her enough that she could feel the curl of that finger inside.

  “No sex yet?” She felt a little strangled in saying those words.

  “Not yet.” Rutger stepped away, and she peered up at him and tried to look wistful.

  Then they both abandoned her, apart from Vargr’s grip on her arm to keep her steady. She was dressed, aroused, and wanted to drag them into the nearest corner to get fucked, weak as she was.

  “Bastards,” she said, mouth downturned. “Come on, show me Big Daddy.”

  Though Rutger headed to the door, she caught him saying something quietly. And was fairly sure it was along the lines of: “I’ll give you big daddy soon, all right.”

  Now that had her grinning. They were in as much sexual agony as she was.

  Chapter 20

  Those words from Willow about a secret were ill-timed, Rutger decided. All they’d done was stir everyone, especially Cyn, who would have to be the most impatient person ever. She grumbled while they showed her through the rear segments of Big Daddy. Luckily, they’d kept her pink jeans and black shirt, or she’d be butt-naked, which would’ve made following her a cock-tease and a half. His cock was totally on board with doing her even minutes after she awakened from a damn coma.

  There were benches in this first part. One side had computers and screens as well as porthole-like windows similar to those on a plane. On the other side was a bench with reagents, bottles, centrifuges and Lord knows what else that Maura was using to make nanites. The table Cyn had lain on had been recently bolted to the floor and as they went deeper into Big Daddy he noticed other things that must have been recently added.

  “If she wants the Lure to be controlled, it’s obvious what that means. And you knew nothing of this? Either of you?”

  “Yes. It means we forget about it for now. When Willow wants to say, she will.” She’d become their leader by default. Mads could have stepped up but had chosen not to. So far it was working out well.

  “I cannot forget. I feel all fired up.” Cyn rolled her shoulders and stumped down the corridor, using the broom he’d given her for a crutch. Upside-down with the brush under her arm, it did the job.

  Vargr smiled at him over her head as if to say, yes, she’s back to normal. Maybe the man hadn’t noticed the fine trail of red scales on one of her arms. It’d been extending as the days passed and now seemed to be twining up her biceps. It could be mistaken for a tattoo.

  “Are there no weapons on this thing?” She turned to frown at him.

  “There are.” He gestured at the next door as Vargr opened it.

  This was a makeshift armory with semi-automatic weapons lining the wall on new racks. The screw holes still showed metal filings. There was also a shower and bathroom facilities. The bathroom was being used to store ammunition.

  They trudged on, past a bedroom with crates piled up to the ceiling, even on the bed, though much of that seemed canned food. It was useless to stock up on food, unless you were afraid to leave this bastardium-shielded cube.

  Unless you were a plain old human, as Doctor Nietz had been.

  He did like the way the man had chosen names. Bastardium had a ring to it. If he was allowed to name anything, in this terrifying era, he’d call it fuckonium.

  At the very rear was the last room, where he twisted the handle, pushed the door, and stepped through.

  “Here are the papers.” These were stacked to the ceiling like the crates. A desk held another PC, as well as more papers. Some stacks had neat, color-coded folders, or notepads with coded names on them. Some were fully in code, and about half appeared to be printed copies.

  The floor was strewn with loose sheets of paper. From behind some of the stacks peeked a hexagonal glass-fronted, ceiling-high display case. Inside that were what he assumed were antiques—vases, bottles, a sword and a dagger, an old pistol that might be a flintlock, jewelry.

  If this were the doctor’s study, it made sense. He had been a known collector, fascinated by history as well as science.

  From the antique desk, Cyn picked up a folder of print-outs. “Printed yet no digital record?”

  “Not that we know of. Big Daddy was wiped or never had access. When or if he wakes, we can ask for clarification. Mo has limited access to the files that would help us make sense of this.”

  “I see.” She gnawed on her lip then dropped the papers. “Phew.”

  “Phew?”

  “Tired. I guess. I’m not ill anymore, though. I think healing, yes. I need to do that so we can get Willow to cough up her secret.” She pursed her lips, as if by thinking it that would happen faster. “Hey. I can have my gun?” She planted her free hand on her cocked hip, while her other hand clutched the broom crutch.

  “You’re not well enough!” Vargr sounded exasperated.

  He chuckled at his beaster friend. “Let’s get you to a bed, Cyn, so you can rest. After some rest, okay, maybe you get that gun.”

  “Maybe? In this land of desperate times? With those above doing fuck knows what that Willow knows about and we do not?” she said, challenging them both, with her hand out, palm up.

  “It’s only a pistol.” He made a what-the-hell face at Vargr.

  He eyed her. “Okay. When we get out of here, but then you rest.”

  “Done.” She grinned triumphantly. “Though… you two need help with the reading too, yes?”

  It was a point. “We do.”

  Willow was going to take some papers away but the mountain of documents might take them a week to read. They’d been sleeping outside, but there was a bed in the adjacent room. “I think some homework won’t hurt you. We can use the bed next door, if we clear it. Get your pack and her gun, and we’ll read in here?”

  “Sure. The ground outside is hard.”

  He planned to make her sleep soon, even if he had to gag and hogtie her, and wouldn’t that be nice. Fucking had been off the menu for days. If anywhere was comfortable, it would be the bed here. But neither of them was going to suggest sex today.

  “Are you getting dirty ideas?” She winked and clomped around with that broom, to face him more fully.

  “Huh.” He scrubbed at his chin. “Never.”

  Even with a broom under her arm, a bandage on her arm, and the marks on her face from days of unconsciousness, Cyn was sexy enough to rev up his cock.

  “Wait. Wait.” She frowned. “Three days and no fucking for ages, yet the Lure did not grab me?”

  “Well,” Vargr halted as he was about to exit. “The Lure isn’t supposed to get through the bastardium. Besides, you were mostly unable to walk.”

&nb
sp; “Mostly? I’m getting a severe dodging the topic vibe from that answer. What did you two do?”

  “We didn’t fuck you while you were out, girl.” Rutger couldn’t help grinning. It was almost poetic justice what they’d had to do. “But we knew it worked, and we weren’t one hundred percent sure about these walls, so they nasal tubed some of our jizz down you.”

  Her groan was pretty impressive. “I’d hit you with this broom if I didn’t think I’d miss and fall over.”

  “Try tomorrow. If you heal like you should, tomorrow we can look at playing on that bed, with you, dodging brooms. I claim her ass.”

  Vargr looked dubious, his eyebrow rising. “It might be too soon. I think we should just get her to suck up more jizz.”

  They ended up sprawled on the bed with Cyn between them. He wasn’t sure he could concentrate on reading with her this close, but he managed, especially since she did fall asleep soon after they gave her some food. Canned food.

  God he was so tired of this shitty canned food. Five years, apart from a few vegetables grown in the Parklands. And the rat meat most pretended was from lost chickens with A-grade survival talents.

  Rutger paused in his reading to watch her sleep with her face half-buried in the pillow, her foot tucked almost under his thigh. She was in a screwy position and Vargr had her butt to admire, but he decided he preferred seeing her simply lie there, breathe, and sleep.

  For a while, he’d wondered if she was going to die. They’d all thought it.

  He stirred a dark curl on the pillow and restrained himself from touching her lips, for it would surely wake her.

  After their teasing, it was perhaps karma that she woke them in the middle of their normal sleeping time.

  He cranked open an eyelid and saw she was dancing quietly, to the side of the cleared floor, and only clutching the wall a few times as he watched her. When she saw him watching, she stopped.

  “I can jump and do this—dance,” she whispered, but in a loud whisper. “And I really am well again!”

  Vargr turned over with a moan. “Da fuck. What?”

  “She can dance, you ass.”