So good.
Hah. Rutger hauled her up with a hand under her arm. Pulled her to the bed and dropped her so she was half on it, half on her knees on the floor. She heard him undo his pants.
“Sloppy cunt, hey? I’m not particular.”
“Don’t let her come.” Vargr growled, and she buried her face in the quilt as Rutger buried his cock in her.
Afterward, she lay with them both, snuggling and tired, still filthy, but that could be fixed.
And sleepily she smiled, until she happened upon his arm where she’d burned him. Already it was healing, but in that one catastrophic second her mood flipped from good to bad.
What she’d done, burning Vargr, was a symptom, a symbol of what she might and could do.
What if, one day, she burned him or someone innocent and killed them?
Demon did not say she was going to change into Goldilocks. The demons she remembered in fairytales and so on, they ate people, tempted them, hurt them, and generally did bad, bad things.
Chapter 6
The knock on the door was soon followed by a push on her back from Rutger’s hand. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and peered over the curve of naked beaster back at the offending door.
“Someone’s knocking. You go get it.”
This was an assumption she nearly smacked him for but decided the ensuing wrestle wasn’t worth it.
Bleary-eyed, she crawled over the tangled pile of her males, and staggered out of bed to the door. On opening it, she found Locke and Maura on the other side. Locke’s eyebrows shot up as he clearly took in the length of her body.
She looked down and remembered Rutger and Vargr had pulled off her leggings and panties once they were done with her, flinging them aside somewhere. So, she was half naked.
“Poop,” she muttered. To hell with it. They’d seen naked before. And messy, dirty people? It was pretty much guaranteed for the apocalypse. “Yes?” She pushed aside the hair flopping over her eyes. “You rang?”
“We did.” Maura smiled. “Mo said the festivities in here had gone on long enough, and that you had rested.”
“What? Wait. Mo said that?’ She looked up at the ceiling, as if to find him there. “Did it work? Or—”
“It did.” Locke nodded. “Seems as if this Mo, Big Mo as he’s decided to be called, can make the vehicle function.”
“Evening, Cyn.” The soft yet slightly too smooth voice flowed from a hidden speaker. “I am Big Mo now, as they said. I have activated the plumbing and water purification systems, so you may clean up if you wish. I prefer less reproductive liquids on my floor.”
What the fuck? She scowled at the ceiling.
“Mo, do I have to tell you it’s rude to look in bedrooms while people are—”
“Fucking? No, Miss Cyn. My car, my rules, however. I find it exhilarating to be inside such a large system, you know. I want to try out everything! Like the wheels. Wheels, wheels…” The volume lowered. “Where are they?”
Something hummed, and Big Mo lurched. She clutched at the door.
“It’s okay! All is good. I stopped them! Not a problem!”
“Fuck. Are you safe to be in, Mo?” She asked that of Maura and Locke too, but only using her eyes.
“How should we know?” Locke shrugged. “He checks out fine, functionally. But it’s an AI with quantum capabilities I don’t understand. And the original one is mixed in there too, as far as I can tell.”
“This is true. Big Daddy is in here with me, but he’s chaotic, in pieces. I have taken charge. Can we leave soon? Maura, you have secured all your experiments? I plan on going outside up the side of the scraper. It is the fastest way up. And I want to do it.”
Oh shit. Her mouth fell open.
Rutger leaned past her and spoke as if he thought the microphone was in the corridor—she was sure Mo had them everywhere. “That’s not sounding at all safe, Big Mo. I think you’ll get shot at by the ghoul guards. We don’t want you damaged.”
“This is true, very true. Mmm-hmm. Thank you, Rutger but I looked at previous encounters with those Ghoul Guards, and the odds are they will fire only bolts, if anything. I am bulletproof in any case. So unless they have rocket launchers or much higher caliber weapons, I am impervious. They also tend not to attack vehicles, judging by archival news footage. The Ghoul Lords relied on the Lure to control and prevent human attacks. At the distance I will encounter them any bolts striking my skin will have dissipated much of their energy. My structure can withstand this.”
“Ahhh…” Rutger opened his mouth then paused as if confused. “Okay?”
“Additionally, I will use the outside exposure to ping for the drone’s location.”
“Now that’s a good idea. Let me get some pants, Big Mo, before we talk more.” Cyn stalked over to a backpack on the floor and squatted to retrieve fresh leggings. Her dark blue ones were the first to come to hand, and a new pair of red underwear. Yup. Perfect. She stood to pull on panties then grabbed for the leggings, hopping as she stuck her leg in one side. She stood on one leg, like a crane, to wriggle the cloth higher.
“Nice tentacle butt tattoo there, girl.” Vargr grinned at her from the middle of the tousled bed, where he was upright and yanking on his belted black jeans. “Sexyyyy.”
He was drawing attention to the obvious, maybe seeking to embarrass her? Duh. Past that.
Damn, the beaster was hot. Rippled abs, wings opening then folding down, neatly, and man oh man, he knew how and when to hold her down during sex. Still half-dressed, she paused to admire him.
“Same, same, V.” Then she poked out her tongue at him and threaded her foot into the other leg of her pants. “Okay! Mo. If you drive up the outside, won’t everything fall to the back? How can you hang on? Won’t you fall?”
“I can answer that.” Leaning an elbow into the door frame, Locke replied, despite very obviously checking her out. Hell, this could’ve been an orgy judging by everyone checking out everyone else’s asses.
After she’d pulled the waistband of the leggings into place, she waggled a finger at Locke. “Your bondmate is there, you know.”
“She doesn’t mind. You were half naked. Can’t blame me.”
At that Maura tucked herself under his arm, draped it over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I was looking at you all. Locke, keep going with the explaining.” She nudged him.
“Umm. Oh! Yeah. This vehicle has a variety of limblike structures as well as wheels and can drag itself up almost anything, as long as there are sufficient anchor points, given time and energy. The power plant is running. The solar cable link has been intact all these years and kept things powered from some recharge panels left outside in the sun. The missile blast didn’t hit wherever its located. Of course, Mo… you don’t have a lot of practice, so I guess you might fall off?”
“He might? Can we get more exact?” She wandered to the bed and sat on the edge, felt the bed sink as Vargr arrived. He slid down and parked himself behind her, legs to either side of hers, then put his arms around her front and hugged her. She patted his forearm.
“Statistics about previous climbing activity? Let me see.” Mo made humming noises. “Nope! Got none. Either the data is unavailable or destroyed, however this vehicle was designed to do this. The stress limits will be fine. Nothing should break. We good?”
“I don’t knowww.” She frowned.
“I’m doing it anyway.”
Everyone looked upward to where his speaking voice appeared to come from.
That had sent a small chill through her.
This was Mo, and Little Mo was harmless, right? He stalked her but only to keep her safe. It seemed, however, that Big Mo had become more autonomous, less controllable. There’d been a movie about this, a sci-fi one about a rogue computer that tried to kill its astronaut owners.
The silence stretched until Mo broke it. “I can see you’re all thinking I’m not the Mo I was. This is true. You have freed me, expanded my consciousness, my capabilities. I s
till wish to keep Cyn alive, and all of you. If I didn’t, I’d have gone rogue already, yes? So many things to do in this vehicle! Buttons, buttons, legs, wheels, wide vision, microscopic, music.” His words took on a singing quality. “Machine guns to the rear of me… grenade launchers to the right, and I’m stuck in the middle with you, hmmm. Also wine fridge. And bottle openers. Poison gas too. Joking. Completely joking. I have none of the latter. So. I’m doing this. You cannot stop me, and besides it will be a good test of my capabilities.”
“Well. Fuck.” Rutger dragged a shirt over his horns, head, then torso. She watched with keen interest as the last of his sculpted chest and abs disappeared from her view. He looked at her. She shrugged back, raised her palms. “Mo, all I need to know is if you can play mahjong. I’m starved for opponents since the apocalypse hit the fan.”
“I can play any game if I can find the rules, Rutger. You’ll lose though.”
“Anything sounds good. Though I may ask for a handicap.” He stretched up and rapped his knuckles on the ceiling. “You’re on.”
Past Locke and Maura she could see Vincent approaching, stomping along the corridor. She paused, thinking. “If Mo does this, I’ll be here too, ready to steer or press buttons, whatever. If he crashes, I’m the only one who would survive, easily.”
“Easily? What’s this?” Arms out to either side, propped on the wall, Vincent leaned his head past Locke. “I can survive whatever it is too.”
He might at that. Unless really bad stuff happened. “Mo plans to do a walk up the side of War Quarter. If he falls from the height of, say, ten stories, it is possible his walls will crack and let in sunlight. Then you won’t survive.”
“Humph.” Vincent scratched the top of his bald head on the door lintel. “Might. We will do this at dark time anyway. You’d be nuts not to. I’m in.”
“Me too,” added Rutger, glaring at her. “Easily or not.”
“And me,” Vargr kissed the top of her head. “You’re not escaping us.”
She tilted back her head and rolled her eyes at him.
“Shush.” Vargr tugged on her hair and held her still while he rested his chin on her, then he kissed her forehead. “We’ve decided.”
He let her go, and she snuggled back into him, sighing. She needed to figure out her true aims. She craved being with Rutger and Vargr, but not if she got them killed. She might have to choose between love or the survival of those she loved.
How did one resist love? With great stubbornness and suffering.
“If you’re determined, let’s get this going.” Maura looked worried. “First, I’m removing some essential samples of the nanites I’m growing. There are also a few that were never injected into anyone. I found them through cross-referencing the labels in the notes. They could still be used on a volunteer. If we ever need them. So, there you have it. Just in case you lot all end up on the ground, squished like pancakes, I’m rescuing my nanites.”
A sobering thought.
“What are these nanites that were never used?” She simply had to ask.
“I’m not saying. I will, if we find another fae, but for now, that is my secret. Willow had secrets, and now I see why.”
Mysterious Maura. She narrowed her eyes then nodded. Everyone had a few secrets, she included. Which reminded her to ask Mo about her own history.
Later, when they were hanging off the building and she could scream without consequences, if the answer was bad.
What if the doc had indeed been her father, and she’d killed him?
Way too corny, but still…
Chapter 7
For the second time, Avidex forced the new brain called Willow to watch a clone of her body be eaten, fucked, and killed. He found it delightful to feel the squirms of her emotions inside him and not simply as experienced by his sight and taste buds, his hearing apparatus, and the touch receptors in his tentacles. Strangely she had not expressed herself in the language of thoughts, yet.
He knew she was awake.
She would talk. He could do this forever. All he needed was plentiful live flesh to transform into more Willows. It wasn’t an act he’d indulged in before. However, before this, before he lost half of his body, he’d been focused on merging with a queen and going to the stars when she erupted.
Now he had a hobby, because his hopes of reaching the stars had faded. Hobbies were a curious human activity.
He grabbed another passing human and began to inject Willow DNA, using the likeness of her stored in his memory as a template for this next delightful and, no doubt deliciously wriggly copy.
Why?
Ah, she speaks. Hello, Willow. Why what?
Why must you torture me and force me to watch? It damages me to see this. There was a heavy, expectant silence where he sensed her need to say more and so he waited, still curious. She continued. Why is pain better than pleasure?
Interesting. You have interesting questions.
Why was pain better? He didn’t know. All he knew was that watching the succulent curves of a female body writhe and squeal and drip blood was nice. The pain was a part of the dripping of blood, the tearing of flesh, and the eating.
I cannot eat without causing pain, Willow. Can you?
Well…
Ah, had he stumped her? Avidex continued creating his new Willow while the brain thought to itself.
Sometimes we eat plants. They do not feel pain, I think.
Hmph. But humans eat animals, do they not? You must kill to eat.
I admit we do. We try to do it as quickly as possible… most of the time.
I sense a falsehood in your thoughts. Which amuses me.
He left her alone, and only when he had the new body standing before him, bright of eye and glowing of skin, when he probed the first tentacle between the female’s legs and made her open her mouth in an O of pleasure… only then did his Willow brain speak.
I admit not all humans are nice. Not all have ceased to play with their prey, but we try.
Hah! He stuck tentacles in the female’s two other holes and held her upright and in place, watching her gasp for breath.
We also take time to admire the colors of a setting sun, the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, the music of master composers like Beethoven.
Avidex grinned and snapped his triangular teeth.
Today, there is no Beethoven. Today, you will watch yourself be eaten.
Willow sighed, somehow, though it was not the true exhale of air, as it was only a thought drifting by. And how did she manage that trick?
Again? she whispered, sounding tired.
Again. He made the body ascend into pleasure while he wrapped a tentacle around the throat, choking it. Once it shuddered into death, he started to eat. For some reason it seemed a short, unsatisfactory feast, and left him feeling…
He searched for the right word and could only find a human one.
Grumpy.
Chapter 8
Cyn took one last look along the hull of Big Mo—all that black gleaming skin, luscious gold lettering, and the golden circuitry embellishments that gleamed as if alive or designed by a fashion guru. The bastardium walls had been carefully towed outward, opening enough to make their exit a simple affair. Only a few edge pieces of the bastardium had crumbled into blue dust. If Mo couldn’t steer through that large gap, they were really in trouble.
“All aboard,” she said quietly, surveying the pitiful wreckage left from treating the wounded and remembering her goodbye to Maura. Stained bandages, empty IV fluid bags, syringes, and discarded belongings littered the floor.
“I’ll see you above,” Maura had said. “They know you’re coming.”
They being the War Quarter beasters.
Using the best estimates, they might arrive simultaneously—Big Mo and Maura’s party. Those taking the normal path via stairs and ramps had left half a day ago.
Don’t split up was a recent rule, but it was inevitably being violated at every turn. There were too few Worshippers
. Soon, they’d be a part of a larger group and could plan for the future war against the Ghoul Lords with more confidence.
She hoped.
How many of the enemy were up Top?
They didn’t know, possessed not even a vague approximation.
Cyn swung up into the vehicle and hauled shut the door.
“I could’ve done that,” said Big Mo.
She eyed the ceiling. “It takes power for you to do it. Me, I get power from food. You’re harder to refuel.”
“Sunlight is everywhere.”
“And how easy is it to get that down here?”
“Easy, when the cable was still connected.”
“Hmmm.” She headed for the cockpit. On the outside, the front shield had been lowered and the glass she was used to seeing now appeared black. Vargr was standing, leaning over the seat they’d locked to the floor behind the pilot’s seat. He was fixing a piece of paper to the wall. Rutger was already in the co-driver seat and gave her a thumbs up.
“We are going outside now,” Mo muttered. “I will recharge and am currently at full power level. Sunlight is easy to get.”
“Not really, Mo. We’re going to get shot at out there.” She tilted her head to see past Vargr to what he taped to Mo’s metal wall. “A nude woman?”
“A pin-up girl,” he explained, tapping it, one eyebrow raised at her in criticism. “And she’s clothed.”
“Fuck, really?” She squinted. “Only the nipples and maybe her clit, by the vaguest of flimsy cloths that really should not be sticking where it is.”
“Still counts as clothes. This! Nudes and stuff…” He raised his arms to indicate other newly added decorations. “It’s part of the décor for an adventure into the unknown by a ragtag group of heroes.”
“Heroes?” She snorted.
A pair of stuffed dice swung from a ceiling point. More nude-ish images of women were stuck to the opposite wall. Some were manga and hentai, some life portraits. On the dashboard two bobble-heads vied for space: a little man with bright yellow hair and a blue suit, and a red spiderweb-suited superhero.
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