by S. N. Graves
She put on some music to a dull hum, just enough to help cover her voice, then opened her bedside table and fished out her old commlink. It still had service, though it tended to be slow. It was better than nothing. She tapped in her father’s code, and then waited, listening impatiently to the connection ticks. Every second he didn’t answer elevated her heart rate until her pulse felt more rabbit than grown woman. Just as she was about to give up and try again later, she heard his voice.
“Sammy? Are you all right? Has he hurt you?”
He sounded near tears, positively frantic, but Sam cut him off. “Daddy, I don’t have a lot of time. If he catches me talking to you, I could be in a lot of trouble, so please… What do you know about a man named Vincent?”
Marx stammered, but she could imagine the snarl that took his lips as he spoke. “That’s Arles’s uncle. He was the money and the muscle behind keeping that repugnant shit out of prison…or a mental institution where he belongs.”
“I know who he is. I met him. I need to know what he does.”
“You met him?”
“Please don’t make me repeat myself. We don’t have time. Arles took me to breakfast and all these men showed up. They looked like…mercenaries, maybe? Or a cult. I can’t think of a better way to describe them.”
“You need to get out of there now,” he said.
Get out of there? She couldn’t get out of there. If she did, Arles was going to call in the dogs on him. If Dad didn’t give a shit about that, why the hell hadn’t he said something before she’d spent the night with the bastard? “But what about—”
“I was wrong. If I have to spend time in prison, so be it. That group is dangerous.”
“Arles said they were CC, Inc. What is that?”
“They are very dangerous. They have been watching my house for a week now. That freak in the red coat just sits there in his car. You have to leave right now. We’ll get on a plane, and we’ll leave the country.” The resolve in his voice chilled her. He was honestly ready to give everything up and run. Who the hell were these people?
“Your heart can’t take flying, Daddy. We’ll never make it.”
“Aren’t you listening to me? These men will do you harm. They are sick and powerful, and I can’t fight them. No one can fight them.”
“I think they’re planning to kidnap a little girl. They…they gave Arles a folder and they were talking about buying her, or taking her.”
“I don’t care.”
His reply stumped her. She leaned back and peered at the old commlink as if it were somehow responsible. “Well, I do. Do you really think it’s right to sit by and do nothing while they destroy some kid’s life?”
He was silent, but she had the feeling he was going to protest any second. If he didn’t care about the little girl, perhaps she could appeal to him on another level, though it made her almost sick to stoop to it.
“Besides,” she said. “If he’s in prison for aiding in a kidnapping, possibly worse, then he can’t very well put you in jail, now can he?”
“You have a point.”
Her stomach lurched, and she fell silent as his soft chuckle came through the comm’s speaker.
“At the very least, if we had evidence of his part in it, we could use that for leverage. Send him running back into whatever hole he crawled from. If we can out them publicly, they’ll be too busy with damage control to interfere with me. This could be very good for us. ”
Us.
Daddy’s us, Arles’s we—did no part of her belong to herself anymore? “You mean blackmail him?”
“Blackmail him, put the police on his scent. Just generally stir up trouble on their end. Sometimes you have to fight with the same fire as your enemies, Sam.”
Why did it suddenly seem like Dad was all for getting her out of this ridiculous situation, until an opportunity arose where he could benefit? She was probably just stressed, but it hurt to think even for a moment that he was merely using her. “I don’t want him hurting some little girl when I am in a position to stop it.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Ferrah. No last name. I couldn’t see the folder.”
“Can you get a look at it? Get me some addresses, contact numbers? Hard-copy memos discussing the transaction? If you can, I may be able to set up something with the police to stop it. You have to hang in there. You can do it.”
“I just want things to go back to normal. That’s all.” Tears burned her eyes before they strained her voice. She cleared her throat and brought the back of her hand up to roughly wipe her eyes. “But if I am in a position to do some good”—to make what she’d already gone through worth something more than just Arles’s perverse thrill—“I should do that, right?”
“Of course you should. There is no telling what they will do to that child. What they have done to other children before her. They are awful people, Sam. You can’t let them get their hands on her. You do what you have to do…and get me those names and addresses. Just don’t let them get in your head. Don’t swallow their lies.”
“I don’t know if I will be able to contact you again.”
“I’ll handle the contact. You just do your part, all right, baby?”
She’d expected a bit more concern—hoped for it, really—but nodded to herself anyway. “Yeah…I can do it.”
* * * *
Arles scrubbed his hands and face with sanitary wipes he’d dug out of his glove box. It hardly helped. He still felt disgusting. The house hadn’t been filthy so much as just a wreck, but the stink of animal hung on him, grating his hyperaware senses. And there was the stench of cat food too, clinging to his hair and his nostrils like a cloud of rancid funk. It made him gag. The confines of the car seemed to amplify the smell, and he threw open the door to lean outside into the fresh air, breathing in deeply with his eyes closed. He’d almost collected himself enough to draw his legs back into the cab and close the door when something hot and wet slapped him upside the face.
The dog.
It was staring at him with as much of a smile on its shaggy face as a dog could manage, breathing hot recycled air into his mouth and aiming that slug-like tongue for his nose. He lurched up to dodge it, but the animal moved in, and that slippery eel of affection slipped right into his mouth. Before he could stop himself, he raked the sanitary wipe over his lips and tongue, but that only replaced the taste of dog breath with alcohol and leather.
Leather? Great. He’d grabbed the car-interior wipes. Choking on his tongue, he shoved the mutt back and stepped out of the car. The animal whined and canted its big one-eared head curiously.
“Stop it. How did you get out here anyway? Isn’t there a couch you’re supposed to be finishing off somewhere?”
The dog lifted a paw and nudged at his knee before whining again. Persistent bugger. It seemed to really want something. “What’s the matter, Lassie? Did Sammy fall down a well? Maybe you ate her, huh? She giving you a tummy ache? Oh well, that’s what you get. That woman is toxic. We’ll both be lucky to survive.” The dog tilted its head so far it looked about to fall over, confusion written all over it. Arles sighed and tossed the wadded wipe back into his car. “And I’m talking to a dog. Not even a real dog.”
Zorg clearly took offense, his barks loud and insistent.
“Okay, shut up. I get it. You’re sensitive. No Lassie jokes.”
The dog growled, baring its teeth. Arles backed up, nearly folding himself through the driver’s-side door. Then the animal lunged, and Arles’s limbs locked, his eyes clenching shut as he braced for attack. He couldn’t make himself move, run, smack the thing away, anything. Fear embraced him like a blanket of electricity. This was how he’d always expected to die, frozen in place, shitting himself, and pulling some stupid face as a monster dog-beast ate out his insides.
Zorg’s filthy paws pressed on his shoulders, and the animal’s slobbery maw clicked as it brayed and growled next to his ear. Arles’s eyes opened slowly. The dog had him pinned,
but wasn’t barking at him. It was barking past him. He shifted as much as Zorg’s weight allowed and looked over the roof of the car.
Someone was coming out of a van parked on the far side of Sam’s house. Arles put a hand to Zorg’s chest and shoved him off to get a better look. The man was wearing gloves. It wasn’t near cold enough for that, as the guy’s T-shirt and shorts proved.
“Can I help you?” Arles stepped around the dog, who continued to throw a fit, and approached the man cautiously.
“I doubt it.” The man eyed the dog with a sneer, and then pulled something black out of his pocket.
He almost expected a gun, but no. Arles wasn’t entirely sure what it was—a slim, shiny box with a red light on its end. It looked like a modified lock pick. No, this guy was not on the up-and-up. “Do you have business here?”
“Buddy, I live here.”
The words took a little too long to digest. Long enough for Zorg to rush past him to charge the man. Whatever was in the man’s hand made a high-pitched whine just before Zorg crumpled. The dog landed in a heap, its legs folded beneath it, its long nose pegged into the dirt. Its eyes dead. That shook Arles awake. “What the hell did you do?”
“Relax. I just shut the stupid mutt down.” The man crouched next to the deactivated dog and yanked off its collar. “Who are you anyway? You with the government?” He nodded toward Arles’s car. “Didn’t see your plates. Look like government.”
Arles just stared, and felt himself nodding instinctively.
“Yeah, well, I told the dumb bitch this was going to happen. You can only break the law so long, you know?” He gave the limp dog a hard smack, then tossed the collar into the overgrown bushes. “This piece of shit here was supposed to be deactivated for parts years ago. He’s not legal. Half the damn cats in her house aren’t legal. You don’t have to take them, though. I’m taking care of it. She going to be fined? Going to jail, maybe?”
The more the man talked, the less Arles wanted to know who he was and why he was here, and the more he wanted to kick that smug look off his face. “I think you need to leave. Now.”
The man’s lip drew up over his teeth as if he’d smelled something disgusting. It was probably the cat food in Arles’s hair. “Oh, I get it. You’re not here about the animals. You her new boyfriend?” He grabbed the dog like a sack of produce and slung it over his shoulder. Then he stepped in and loomed over Arles. How had Arles not noticed how massive the man was before sticking his nose in the guy’s business?
“Really? How desperate are you, man?” he asked.
Arles’s knuckles slammed into the man’s perfect teeth. The man stumbled back, and Arles spun around with the blow, clutching his fist to his chest and swearing through a snarl. His hand was busted for sure…and he was getting blood on his shirt.
“Arles!”
Sam ran toward them. Or…probably toward her dog, who looked quite dead. Then something struck him on the back of the head. His teeth throbbed from the impact. He collapsed to a knee, hit again, and again. His body wanted to fold under the assault, to lie down on Sammy’s overgrown lawn and wait until the pain passed.
He’d been here before. He knew the drill. Easier to just give in to the weight of blackness trying to consume him.
But that wasn’t him, not anymore. He twisted sharply, the blade of his hand crashing into the side of the other man’s knee. He felt the joint give, heard the popping, but there was no satisfying crunch of bone. It didn’t matter. The guy dropped, nearly falling on top of Arles, which made it easier to hit him. Repeatedly.
In a matter of heartbeats they were tangled in each other, like two feral cats fighting for dominance. Arles felt his ribs crack, but he didn’t register the blows. He focused on a delicate balance between destroying the man and not leaving a corpse on Sammy’s lawn. He could hear her screaming at them to stop, but he couldn’t, not so long as the man kept coming, kept hitting back. He wasn’t going to be the one to bow out.
And then cold, chemical-treated city water smacked him in the face.
Arles withdrew immediately, skittering back from his opponent as the blast from the garden hose in Sammy’s hand soaked them both. He sputtered and put an arm over his face to block it out, but she’d turned most of it on the other man, who swore at her and staggered to his feet.
“I said stop it! Both of you.” She was breathing hard, her shoulders trembling.
He wanted to go to her, to get between her and the man screaming obscenities in her direction. But she still had the hose.
“Sammy, you know this guy?” Arles struggled to his feet, inching closer to her.
She ignored him. “Get out of here, Hank. Before I call the police.”
“Like you’d call the fucking law out here. Go ahead. I’ll tell them what you have in the house.” Hank stalked toward her, and she sprayed him in the mouth with a full blast from the hose. He choked and flailed for a moment, and then launched at her, only to slam up against Arles.
“Touch her, and I will break you. Understand?” Arles powered his palm into the man’s chest, shoving him back several feet.
SAM HELD THE hose like a weapon, the only thing between her and an enraged Hank…besides Arles. It wasn’t enough; it was never enough with Hank. Half the reason he’d lived with her as long as he had was her fear of dealing with him on this level. Arles was already bleeding. If he pushed, Hank would take him apart.
That frightened her more than she wanted it to.
“Samantha, if you don’t get this little shit out of my face, I’m going to crack his skull.” Hank swatted at Arles as if the man were an insect, and Arles grabbed his arm and threw it back to him to bounce off his chest.
“He was trying to take Zorg, Sammy. He’s here for your animals.”
Zorg was a furry lump in the grass. A short ways away from him was an improvised nano-scrambler. If Hank had used it, the little synthetic organisms that powered Zorg and created his personality were now in a state of seizure and disorganization. If the dog ever responded again, there was a good chance he’d never be the same. “You son of a bitch.”
“Oh, come off it, Samantha. It’s long past time that psychotic mutt was retired.” Hank moved away and scooped up the nano-scrambler, then shoved it into his back pocket. His tone softened, strained for rationality. “I met a guy. He collects these old wrecks. Has them cleaned up, puts them on display. He’ll pay top dollar, and I’m more than willing to split the sale with you. He’ll take the cats too.”
“Get out of here.” Arles was between them again, right up in Hank’s face. Or at least as much as he could be without standing on his tiptoes. “She doesn’t want you here. She doesn’t want to sell her pets. She doesn’t need your money or your help.”
Hank nodded, and his teeth clenched together like an angry chimp about to tear Arles’s face off. “Oh, I see. Because she has you now.”
Sam gripped the hose until her knuckles turned white and her hands shook. “You need to leave.”
“Yeah, but I always come back. Don’t I? You think he’s going to do that? He’s just looking for an easy lay, Samantha. He’s a rich kid. He’s not the type to put up with your crazy shit and your fat ass after he gets what he wants.”
A gnawing pain lanced through her chest with his words; Hank had never been one to shy away from an ugly truth. And yet Sam couldn’t ignore the sudden realization that came over her. Arles hated her animals, couldn’t even be in the same house with them, but here he was, defending her and her zoo like they were all that mattered to him in the world.
“Easy?” Arles chuckled and held out his hands to gesture to Sam and the house and to Hank. “Does any of this look easy to you?”
“Shut up, Arles.”
“Arles?” Hank snorted. “His name is Arles? Look at that car, Samantha. Look at his clothes. You think a guy like Arles really wants you? He has an angle. He’s working something here and you know it. You been anywhere but his bed or yours yet? You think he’s going to want
to be seen with you? Hell, it’s embarrassing to even think abo—”
That was as much as he got out before Arles’s fist struck him in the mouth, little flecks of bloody teeth shooting out onto the soaked and trampled lawn. It took Hank a moment to recover, his hand pressed to his jaw. Arles took a step back to give the other man room to stagger around.
“You…have a lot to learn about how to treat people. Hank.” Arles snarled, shaking out his bruised and bloodied hand, and Sam couldn’t help but be amused at how both men managed to say each other’s names like they were obscenities. “You are a terrible human being, and Sammy is done with you. You’re dismissed.”
How bad did someone have to be for Arles Colfter to find him terrible? If she hadn’t been expecting the confrontation to turn into a bloody brawl again any moment, she might have giggled like a madwoman. As it was, she couldn’t suppress her smile, and ducked her head to conceal it. Through her hair she could see Hank backing away, and only once she trusted herself not to grin like an idiot did she lift her head to watch him retreat one shaky backward step after another. He met her gaze, and she’d seen that look in his eyes before. He was pissed.
And he would be back.
Arles continued to flex and shake his fingers as he returned to her. His slight limp didn’t become more of a hobble until Hank’s van rumbled to life and sped off, spitting mud all over the side of her house. Pain showed on Arles’s face when he finally took his gaze from the empty street.
He waved his wounded hand at the dog. “Is he dead? I didn’t know what Hank was doing.”
“I…I don’t know.” Sam dropped the hose and hurried to turn it off before kneeling by Zorg’s side. She lifted his lopsided head and drew up his eyelids to check for any sign of activity. “I don’t know if I can fix this.”
“Does it not have an on switch?”
“It doesn’t work like that. His programming may be lost.”
“So just reboot him. Stick a disc up his ass and hit install.”
Was he serious? “You know absolutely nothing about synthetics, do you? He has a data port on his neck. I have to sync him up to an alpha deck to even begin to see what the damage is.” She rubbed the dog’s cheeks with her thumbs as tears burned in her eyes. “He may be gone forever.”