by V Guy
The continued efforts eased the bindings between them. Selena discovered a slackening and sometimes severing of the enslaving strands. While she learned nothing of Serena or Malik, her confidence in their existence and significance within her life had grown. Her master offered fullness and meaning, yet she believed that even should their bonds be severed, she could be whole. It was a hope that insulated her from the burden of anything happening to her master.
Her new depth was soon filled; she spent her time learning anything and everything available, tying it to the presence of her conscious self. The priority of his business empire took a backseat. Even though Selena was diligent to complete the tasks set before her, she never took the research farther than required.
Last night’s digging and scraping had shown her a picture of her final days at Bedele Creative, which gave her a new appreciation of her current surroundings. There was a sense of space, peace, and quality here. There was also an air of impractical elegance and luxury, two concepts she unfathomably understood. This thrilled her, and she was excited because it implied there was more to discover.
Reading started Selena’s days, then breakfast while her master was entering a meeting. Exercise was usually completed before her meal, but she timed it even as he was moving down the passage to speak with his advisor. A bath and more reading followed until he entered a remote conference with one of his many facilities’ management. If her master followed his usual pattern, meetings would occupy his entire morning, his lunch would be brief, and afternoon meetings would occur. She set the manuscript before her and even as she read, reached toward the past with her mind.
Selena’s lunch was timed for when he had ten minutes remaining in his, and she entered cheerfully and greeted him enthusiastically. The existing tendrils of control in her mind needed the connection to remain fresh, memories of his abuse instructed her to keep the contact brief, the notice of her deliberately challenging those connections demanded presenting her showing at reasonable intervals, and the persistent hope that they became something more intimate led her to desire his presence.
His evenings were usually a toss-up as to his plans, and she discontinued the exploration into her past after his final, scheduled conference. Selena found something new to read and moved to the observation deck after supper, layering the fresh knowledge like a salve over her mind’s open scars. The deck host brought her typical beverage, returning to his position at the bar.
Baron Hess entered the area and signaled his request. Selena felt his proximity and immediately rose, her excitement and pleasure both genuine and sharp. The tendrils binding them were still intact and had been only loosened.
“Hello, my oracle,” he said lightly, sitting across from her and motioning for her to sit. “And how was your day?”
His words were like having a school crush finally speak. She looked at him cheerfully. “Excellent, Master. The day has been beautiful.”
His facial response was mixed as he considered her attitude’s inherent contradiction. “What are you reading?”
“Some Anna Karenina. The words are difficult.”
“Difficult?”
“It’s in old Russian, Master.”
Hess’s eyes widened. “You know Russian?”
She shrugged. “Some. Reading a story in the original text is always best, but it isn’t always the easiest. There are always new words to learn.”
He paused as he considered the few languages he knew. “Which languages can you speak?”
Selena brightened. “French, German, Russian, and maybe Mandarin. The characters are numerous in the Chinese alphabet, the intonations are particular, and I confess it’s hard to declare that I actually know it.”
“Why would you speak Chinese?”
“Chinese operas have the most elegant dances, and their costumes are exquisite.”
Hess squinted and frowned. “How would you know about Chinese operas?”
“You provided considerable literature for me to peruse, Master. There were links within the material.”
He was confused, pleased, and disconcerted all at the same time. Her interest in something other than him notably eased the pressure from him, but her distraction also touched upon a sense of failure. His mood darkened. He wanted her happy, knew the pleasure within him, and simultaneously felt a twinge of jealousy because of it. He scowled. “Have you any news?”
She frowned. “Master?”
Hess rolled his eyes. “Is anyone trying to kill me? Do you sense anything with your clairvoyance?”
“Nothing, Master. I’ve had no troubling premonitions.”
“How about good ones?”
She momentarily focused. “There is a project that will soon be complete. I couldn’t determine which one, however.”
A spark of recovery lit within him. “What of Malik? What of his role in our existence?”
“Master, if the creature is the one responsible for my impressions, then it will find us,” said Selena, lowering her head and embracing herself. “There’s no avoiding it. I feel the probabilities converging like a great net closing over the galaxy.”
“And?” He looked at her in concern.
“But I don’t sense hostility. Maybe it’s not Malik?”
“Without hostility? Are you certain?”
She nodded. “Hostility and danger produce strong, sharp sensations. This is more like anticipating a sunrise, waiting for the tide, or observing a rising fog.”
“Is it pleasant or unpleasant?” His impatience rose.
“I don’t know.” Selena looked at him in distress. “It just is, Master.”
Hess stood and paced through the recliners. “Is there no way to avoid it?”
“I don’t know. Delay, maybe.”
“Maybe?” he asked, his eyes flashing. “How would you actually know?”
Her eyes teared. “I don’t know.”
“What would delay?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Master.”
His face flushed with anger. “Can you at least tell me what would work?”
Her head lowered in humiliation. “Master, I can only see what will happen following an actual event. I can’t create selective futures.”
“What good are you?” he roared, hitting her chair. “Why do you suppose you are here?”
“This focus isn’t directed toward you, Master,” she whispered. “It’s directed toward me.”
Hess stared at her, his fury simmering below the surface of his reactions. He walked to the bar, got a drink, and returned to stew in his recliner, barely containing his irritation. “Have you reviewed the information I sent?”
Selena’s concern diminished. “Yes, Master. There are excellent probabilities that Rhinehold’s manned facilities will be at full production in another month. The facility you intentionally closed should be back online within two. I don’t calculate that the upgrade delays will present any issues, but I do believe that the processor supply line will fall below expectations; there’s considerable inefficiency to be expected with the large number of new employees. Add that problem to the number of faulty part returns, and you’ll have an overall production bottleneck. The best solution is to hire more people or get someone experienced to return.”
He scowled. “None of them revealed the master of the attack.”
She paused, glancing at him as she considered his attitude and response. “Master, if they participated, then they share the shooter’s guilt. Maybe if you offered them amnesty, shielded them from prosecution, and offered them their jobs back, they’d yield.”
“They’re still guilty.”
“But they aren’t the person you want. They are the solution to quicker production restoration.”
Hess shook his head in disgust. “What are your predictions without them?”
“Master, close to expected output can be expected after six months. Equipment shouldn’t need retooling, as long as too much isn’t broken during the training period.”
&nbs
p; “My advisors can tell me all that. What can you tell me that they can’t?”
Hess’s fresh hostility caused her trepidation. His attitude was tough to satisfy, especially now.
“My words are the future they have calculated. Your advisors were right.”
“Then what do those words say of the dismissed employees? My advisors can tell me nothing, none of the employees are talking, the directly guilty parties are dead, and the police lack evidence to implicate anyone. The guilty party could be planning another attack!”
She frowned. “I don’t sense—”
“I want to know. Will you be around the next time I need it sensed? Will you be available the next time they try?”
Selena was thoroughly cowed, and the new, fresh feeling of depth succumbed to despair. “Where else would I be?”
His jaw hardened. “Take Rhinehold’s employee records and go through them with a fine-toothed comb. I want to discover anything about anyone who might have any cause to kill me. I want to know who complained, who had disciplinary problems, people with tardiness issues, and anyone who was ever chastised on the line.”
A strong harbinger of danger gathered the moment her powerful, instinctual desire to please Hess surfaced. Selena knew the outcome before she spoke, that she would speak regardless, and understood the level of revelation that would follow.
“Master, I completed an analysis of the employee records shortly after the last incident.” As much as she resisted the impulse, her next words were spontaneous. “I arrived at a disturbing conclusion that I didn’t know how to handle.”
The power of his gaze was strong even with her eyes averted. “What kind of disturbing conclusion?”
Her voice softened to a whisper. “Colby Kine was the most probable culprit. I could give you a list of everyone on the employee listing, but no one matched the strength of his markers. A number of his associates were likely coconspirators. They had convincing connections with the assailants.”
Danger hovered above her like a cloud; his presence felt closer yet. “He was the only one I rehired,” said Hess, snarling. “You didn’t think to tell me about this?”
A chill coursed her spine. “Probabilities can be shifty. He was your friend, and I thought maybe I was wrong.”
***
Selena was released from the infirmary five days later. Her master’s abuse continued for the next week with a disturbing twist: he freely availed himself of her body with harshness, violence, and a profound absence of love or affection. She returned to her quarters from these and later sessions, wounded in body and spirit, and her soul’s false reception of him progressively weakened. Whenever she could isolate her focus, regardless of the moment, she was relentless about embracing a pain that offered tangible, desirable returns.
Selena had fundamentally changed. Living life as this man’s slave was outside her purpose; she would find it, whatever the cost.
35: Beach
Day 774: Evaline, Tichner Beach
“Get ready, we’ll soon have patients,” said Malik, his manner and words brusque, his skin ashen. “Inform Ileana that the nerve treatments will be delayed and have the commandos ready for either rescue or action. The decoy is warming and the ship’s systems are initiating for launch.”
Evelyn rose from her breakfast, her eyes widening in alarm. “We’ve only just arrived from last night’s adventures. Aren’t you supposed to be speaking to detectives in thirty minutes? What’s happening?”
He frowned and shook his head. “It’s Serena, but Liola is also involved.”
***
“Again?” asked Serena in disgust. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”
“It’s what they came to do. There’s three of them and three of us.” Elena scanned the restaurant to see if there were others with the ogling men. “You’re beautiful, Liola is beautiful, and I’m—”
“Beautiful,” said Serena and Liola together.
Liola upended her drink. “You should stop belittling yourself.”
Elena set her beverage aside and rolled her dark eyes. “It’s a small town, their selection is limited, and I happen to be young and fit, unlike most of the women here.”
Serena grinned. “You also look like you could remove one of their heads. Maybe you should smile a little?”
“And have them stare even more?” Elena pulled her long, brown hair back into a ponytail and secured it. “What are the odds of something happening tonight? Every time we’re here, they’re here, and every time we sit down, they take a nearby table.”
“This town is too small,” said Liola, hazarding a glance toward the men’s leering eyes. “The next place we go needs to have a population of at least a million souls and three good places to eat.”
Serena coughed. “We could cook?”
“This was supposed to be our day off.” Elena finished her beverage and wiped her lips with her sleeve. “Let’s pay our tab and leave.”
Liola nodded, speaking into a hidden mike even as she motioned for the waitress. “Preston is watching the entrance. They won’t do anything.”
A few other men noticed their departure, but their gazes stopped shy of the level of the regulars. It was with sighs of relief when the three women stepped onto the restaurant’s porch.
We’re out, said Liola into her interface mike. A specialized, partial skull interface was nestled against each of their scalps, and her words were transmitted solely through the intention of her mind. We’re walking back to the beach.
No reply was expected or received. Preston always kept watch when they went out. They strolled across the parking lot and onto the concrete leading to the beach boardwalk, passing between bathrooms on either side.
“Nice to be free of that nonsense,” said Elena. “Every cursed time. We should fly to Bronton for our next break and avoid them altogether.”
“Bronton, you say?” asked one of the men when they passed the entrance to the bathhouse. The other two men were with him, spreading to impede their progress. They had apparently left through the restaurant’s other exit and sneaked along the lot’s edge. “We could meet you there instead.”
Preston, what’s going on? asked Liola in confusion. Don’t look behind you, she said to her companions, but there’s two more. Their partial interfaces contained proximity and visual sensors, offering them a full range of vision with a rear-view projection as a heads-up display in the forefront of their mental eyes.
What are we to do? asked Serena.
We’ll probably hurt them, replied Elena with disdain. They could sense her agitation through the mental connection.
“You’re out for a stroll, too?” asked Liola, boldly stopping before them. “Looking wasn’t enough?”
“We’d also like to touch,” replied the man to their left.
“What’s it worth?” Liola noted the center man tap the side of his head. The center guy is recording this, she thought. Preston, where are you?
“It’s worth an evening or two,” said the center man, shrugging. He was clean-cut, shaven, and looked as if he had just walked from a bank or a vehicle dealership.
“Not what we’d pay,” said Liola. “What you’d pay.” Both the men behind us have knives, but they’re partially leading with their empty hands to grab us. They’ll probably try to slice our necks in the worst case, capture us at the best.
“We’re getting it free, pretty little girl,” said the center man, sneering. “And we’ll get it as often as we want.”
The front three men advanced. The ones behind them moved closer.
What do we do? asked Serena, frightened.
You fight as if your life depends upon it, which it probably does. Just do as you were shown, replied Elena.
“No,” said Liola to the man, straightening. “Let us pass.”
The men’s hungry smiles indicated her answer was unacceptable. When the two behind them approached within two paces, she braced. Now.
Liola was unhesitant, dropping a blad
e from its holster in her sleeve to her palm and leading into the man behind and to her left. His right hand was extended to grab her shoulder, but she dropped beneath it, plunging her blade directly into his heart and kneeing his crotch, supposing the first blow was insufficient.
Elena twirled as well but without a knife, extending her foot to trip her adversary, catching that assailant’s extended right hand with her own, bending it back at the wrist, twisting his arm even as his momentum carried him toward the ground.
Serena wasted no time. Every man before them was caught by surprise, and she made a loud battle cry, advancing a step to the man on her left and swinging with her right. He was surprised but reacted quickly, catching it with his right. She was naturally a lefty; she jammed a quick, four-knuckle fist twice into the unprepared man’s throat. She immediately followed this blow with a knee to his crotch.
Again, the latter blow was unnecessary. Her long, fashionable gloves were powered gauntlets, and as opposed to having four, fragile knuckles impact him, it felt more like an iron wedge.
The two final men fatefully paused. Serena spun out of their reach.
Liola’s man was fatally wounded; he collapsed to the ground. Elena’s man had his face planted into the boards. When she quickly dropped her right knee and planted it roughly into the base of his spine, he stopped moving. Serena’s assailant collapsed, cradling his crotch and gasping for breath. She rotated around him, placing herself in a ready position behind the aiming men. Liola turned, leading with a bloody knife.
She made a challenging snarl. “No means no.”
Silvery sheens caressed the two men. “You’re still coming with us,” said the well-dressed man, drawing a weapon. “We’ve heard about you. We’re ready.”