"Blice . . ." Clara starts again.
"He's the man you're with? You chose an android over me?"
"Calm down. Don't do anything stupid."
"He's not even a real man." Blice shouts.
"He's more of a man than a coward like you."
Blice's dark purple eyes are glossy with rage. "I told both of you to go inside the house. We will deal with this right now."
21
As soon as they are all inside Clara's house, Blice slams the door and takes off his coat. He points to Isidore. "On your knees, computer."
"Blice, please!"
"You will address me as Owner. And you will not speak. Now get on your knees and watch how a human makes love to a woman."
What? He wouldn't. Isidore gets down on his knees as his heartbeat pounds in his mind. This isn't happening. Blice wouldn't do this. He can't.
Blice twists Clara's arm behind her back and throws her down on the bed.
"Don't hurt her." Isidore says.
"I'm not going to hurt her, isn't that right, Clara?"
Clara squirms under his body and grabs at the blankets. "Blice, please. Don't touch me."
"Do you value your job and your life?" Blice tears at her blouse and roughly kisses her.
"Isidore! Help me. Do something!"
Blice takes her neck in his hand as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand. "Mention this to anyone and Isidore will be dead in the morning."
"Don't hurt him." Clara whimpers.
"I swear I will kill you, Clara."
Isidore has to try something. "Owner-"
"One more word and I will permanently shut you down."
As Blice removes Clara's shirt, something primal and instinctual rises up in Isidore. That's enough of that. He has to stop this. Clara belongs to him, not Blice or anyone else. Clara's screaming only pushes him forward. He stands and tightens his hands into fists. Isidore runs at Blice then with one quick hit, sends him to the floor. "Never touch her again."
Blice's eyes are wide as he holds the side of his face and crawls back away from Isidore. "Niko . . ."
Isidore draws his revolver as Blice rolls to his feet. "She's mine."
Blice laughs. "What? You don't even know what to do with her. How many times am I going to let you live for such insolence?"
Isidore pulls the trigger and the bullet ricochets off of Blice's dark matter magic that flashes up between his hands. This just got a lot more dangerous. If Blice is using his dark matter, then it got more deadly as well. Isidore knows what happens to people who are injured by dark matter and it's never good. It's incurable and a death sentence. Isidore isn't afraid. He'll die at Blice's hands before he sits back and lets Clara be abused.
"Isidore!" Clara reaches over to her desk and tosses him a flash drive. "Use it."
Blice kicks at Isidore, but he dodges and punches Blice in the face again.
Isidore inserts the flash drive into his USB port. The muscles in his body tingle and tense, almost as if they are growing stronger. A loud ringing fills his ears and his vision goes black momentarily.
Blice takes this chance to land a punch to Isidore's chest.
Isidore wakes up and holds out his hands to catch himself on the wall, but his hands go through the wall, leaving a large hole. Whoa. "I'll fix that." He scrambles to his feet and lunges at Blice.
Blice pushes Isidore back and sweeps his legs out from under him. When Isidore falls to the floor, Blice kicks him in the side then grabs him and throws him into the table.
Isidore cries out and clutches his side. His arms and legs are burning and sore. What kind of program is this? He crawls under the table to avoid a large ball of purple glistening dark matter magic. How did he active his combat enhancement program against Kazimir? He quickly searches through his programs, but again he can't find it.
"You're dead, Isidore. I'm going to kill you and laugh as you disintegrate." Blice shouts at him and drags him out by his legs.
Isidore grabs onto the table legs and kicks Blice away. Blice's nails dig into his jeans and leave long bloody scratches to his ankles, all glowing with dark matter. He screams out as time begins to slow and his mind focuses on Blice. So the combat program turns itself on when it senses Isidore is in danger. He stands up and grits his teeth against the searing pain of the dark matter. He is aware of everything, the smells of the room, Blice's panicked pulse, a surge of energy glittering in Blice's furious eyes. Now to finish this. Isidore lunges at Blice, takes his shoulders in his hands, knees him in the groin and slams him down on the floor. Isidore picks up his revolver and places the barrel to Blice's forehead.
Clara screams and tries to push Isidore off of Blice's chest, but the strength that is flowing in Isidore's veins keeps him there, poised and ready to end his owner's life.
Blice struggles against Isidore's grasp and whispers under his breath. "Babochka."
It's that word again, the one Kazimir said. Isidore's body goes limp and he collapses to the floor. His mind turns blurry and reality blends with a strange and disoriented haze. He can't move and he can't think. He can only watch those in the world around him.
Strong arms pick him up and move him to the bed. Blice looks him over then frowns and rolls up the legs of Isidore's pants. He touches the scratches gently. "Oh my God. No. Look at his legs, Clara."
"Is that . . ."
"Dark matter. I didn't mean to. You have to know I didn't mean to."
"What can we do? Can it be cured?" Clara asks.
"No. It will continue to spread until he loses his legs or it kills him."
Clara breaks down and Blice holds her to his chest.
"Calm down. We'll think of something. I swear it."
"Why would you even use that against him?"
"I was afraid. With his combat enhancement, he is nearly unstoppable. Be glad I remembered his shutdown command or I would be dead right now." He cautiously sits Clara down on the bed then pulls his trench coat on. "When he wakes up, try to talk to him and make sure he's all there mentally. Sometimes that program can have adverse effects. What was the one you gave him?"
Clara rubs her arms where the bruises are forming. "It enhanced his muscles and made him stronger."
"So, it alters the way his body works?"
"Something like that." Clara begins to cry again. "You need to go."
"Of course. I'm sorry, Clara. I'm sorry." Blice leaves and the door shuts behind him.
* * *
Isidore groans as he becomes more and more aware of the world around him. When the headache hits behind his eyes, he wants to go back into the semiconscious state and be free from it.
Clara's hands are warm on his shoulder. "Slowly, Isidore. Are you okay?"
"I think so." He sits up and rubs his eyes. This is worse than he felt after the first time. It probably has something to do with whatever Clara's program did to his muscles. "What was Blice saying about dark matter?"
"Look at your legs." She turns away.
Isidore looks down and touches the deep scratches still glistening with purple. "Oh, that's not good. Clara, it's okay. I'll get new legs like Byron did. It's not a big deal."
"How can you say that? Let me see." Clara examines the scratches. "That's strange. Looks like they're healing."
"Hmmm . . . well, you did tell me that my skin heals faster than a human's, right?"
"I don't know if that works in a situation like this. Even Blice thinks it's bad. It's irreversible." Clara holds onto Isidore.
"Hey now, stop. We will deal with that when the time comes. Right now, I need to make sure you are okay. Did Blice hurt you? Did he hurt you?"
"No. I'm okay. I have some bruises, but it's not bad."
"Did he touch you?"
"No. He stopped. Well, you stopped him, I guess."
"Why is he acting like this?"
Clara sighs and plays with the ends of her hair. "You should know about Blice and me. We slept together once."
What? Not him. Anyo
ne but him. "Please tell me you're joking."
She shakes her head. "It was one night. It wasn't anything special."
Isidore can't handle this right now. His mind is still foggy from the programs and the weird things his body was doing. Even if he was completely in his right mind, he can't be mad at her for something that happened long ago.
"Are you mad because I was with another man?"
"It's not that you've been with another man. It's the fact that you were with him. Of all people, you were with Blice. I thought for once that I had something that he couldn't, something that he didn't have before me. Never mind. This isn't the time for this conversation. It's not your fault, Clara. Why don't you go get a shower and try to calm down? I want you to get cleaned up, have some wine, then lie down, okay?"
"All right, Isidore."
He kisses her lips that taste like her tears. "He won't hurt you. I will be right here and I will stay up all night to make sure he doesn't come anywhere near you."
"Thank you."
"Go on. If you need me, just call. I'll hear you and be at your side."
Clara smiles and wipes the mascara from her cheeks as she picks up her torn blouse and goes into the bathroom.
After he hears the water running, Isidore stretches and looks to the windows on the front of the house. What time is it? He must have been out of it longer than he thought. It's getting dark. No matter how much he wants to fall asleep and forget about today, he knows there is something he has to do first. He goes into the kitchen, finds a bottle of wine, and drinks from the bottle until he's sure he'll feel it. He combs through his silver hair with his fingers and goes to the front door.
The desert night air is cool and dry with a soft breeze blowing down from the snow-capped mountains in the distance. As the sun sets, the sand is set ablaze with warm oranges and pinks that fade to black with the approaching night. From across the street, Isidore sees Blice sitting in the driver's seat of his Jeep. Well, here goes nothing.
Isidore goes up to the Jeep and leans inside. "Hey."
Blice reaches into the pocket of his trench coat and pulls out a handful of pills which he takes. "Hey."
Isidore sits beside Blice and looks at his black eye. "Sorry about your eye."
"I deserved it. You hit hard for a little guy."
"Damien said the same thing." Isidore says as he studies Blice.
"How's Clara? She okay?"
"A bit shaken up, but I think she'll be fine. She has her wine."
"Ah. Good." Blice lights a cigarette and holds one out to Isidore.
"I don't smoke. Since when do you smoke?"
"Since I've been so stressed out." Blice says. "What are we going to do? I've never lived anywhere but in Paradise. As immature as this sounds . . . I miss my father."
His father? "I thought you hated him."
"I don't miss him. I guess I miss the power and security he could provide me."
"So what are we going to do about Clara?" Isidore asks.
"You beat me so you can have her. Nice fighting, by the way."
"You too."
"Thanks. I try." Blice says.
"So, Clara told me about why you are so protective of her."
"It's true. I was working with her in Styx and I fell in love with her, we had sex, then she told me we couldn't be together because I was engaged to Leena at the time."
"Where was Leena?"
Blice shrugs his shoulders. "She found some kids in Styx that she wanted to help."
"But I thought I was your partner then."
"You were." Blice says. "I um . . . made you sleep outside in the ditch. You obeyed orders back then, no matter how awful they were."
"I slept in the ditch?"
"Yes. You had an electric shock collar that would shock you if you moved from where I put you. It was horrible."
Oh God. "Collar? Like a dog collar?"
Blice nods his head and sinks down in the seat. "I'm not proud of that. Go ahead and shoot me. Get your revenge. I have nothing to live for anymore. Want to know the worst part about me doing that to you? It snowed that night. By the time I woke up and went to get you, there was two feet of snow covering everything, including you. I dug you out and you had gone into standby mode from the physical trauma. I worked all day to get you to turn on again. You had frostbite on your feet that healed quickly, but you were in a lot of pain. All night you laid there, afraid to disobey orders as I was inside with a fire and hot tea. Know what I did then? Instead of letting you recover, I made you carry all of our bags all day. I made you take your coat off so you would learn not to shut down like that again. I didn't let you eat for two days. I ordered you to get food for me then I ate in front of you while you knelt at my feet eating what fell to the floor. I tried to punish you for almost dying."
Well, that's one memory Isidore is glad he hadn't watched. The more he finds out about his past, the less he trusts Blice. Maybe he shouldn't trust him at all. However, Isidore knows that even if he wanted to stop trusting Blice and distance himself from him, he couldn't do it. He ultimately needs Blice for an unknown and desperate reason that is engrained in him. Perhaps Blice programmed him to need him.
Blice tosses his cigarette out into the sand. "Don't let what I did in the past define me. That wasn't me. My father made me do all of that. You're happier now, right? We're buddies . . . right?"
"No."
He looks hurt. "What? Why not?"
"You're still using me to get what you want. You hurt me and you will always want to control me."
"Who told you something like that?" Blice asks.
"I can't tell you, Blice."
"Sounds like something Kazimir would say."
He knows. How does he know?
"That's his Inquisition insignia, isn't it?"
"How do you know all of that?"
"Let's just say I know Kazimir from a few years ago." Blice says. "We had an argument about you and went our separate ways. That was after the T.I.M.E. rebellion had quieted down. But . . . why aren't you happy? We hang out and play games and talk. I thought you were my friend. Tell me you're happy."
"Are you ordering me to lie?"
"No. Tell me how you really feel."
Isidore leans back in the seat. "Miserable. I hate living except when I'm with Clara. No one else gives a damn about me."
"Do you feel that way? If you truly feel that way, then I failed." Blice says.
"Failed at what?"
"Being a good owner. I realize that I've made grievous mistakes with you, but I thought that I've at least started to make amends and do what I should have done all along. I don't want to order you around like my father wanted. That's not me. I revert back to that when I'm angry and I hate myself for it. I want you to be safe, healthy, and happy."
Isidore looks over at Blice's deep violet eyes that are strangely comforting. "But Blice, I'm not happy. I don't know if you programmed me to be happy, but I'm not. You should get ready to punish me."
"Why would I do that?"
"I've been stealing your pills. The yellow chalky ones seem to help."
"Those are antidepressants. I thought you were happy here with me." Blice says.
"I don't know. I don't know what I feel anymore."
Blice doesn't seem angry. He sighs and puts his feet on the steering wheel as he looks up at the night sky. "Don't take anymore. I can't risk something happening to you. I have some very powerful pills that will kill you if you take too many or in combination with the wrong ones. Promise me."
"I promise."
"Take this one." Blice hands him a pill.
"What is it?"
"Just take it. It will help you right now."
Isidore takes it and immediately begins to feel better. Though that might just be from knowing that Blice is being friendly and caring again. It feels nice to know that someone is worried about him. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything, Niko."
"What does babochka mean?" Isidore ask
s.
"It's Russian for butterfly. Kazimir designed you to be the one to change and transform into a beautiful being who would save everyone from the troubles of this world. Like a butterfly, you evolve and becomes something better over time as you learn from those around you."
Isidore remembers the one he saw, so delicate and beautiful. "I saw one this morning."
"One what? A butterfly?"
"Yes. It was pretty."
"Hope you got a good look." Blice says. "There aren't many left, even in Paradise. A few scientists have been trying to experiment on them to increase their resistance to whatever is killing them off, but it hasn't been working."
A small tinge of pain reminds Isidore of his daunting injuries. "Hey, Blice?"
"What's up?"
"Am I going to lose my legs?"
Blice makes a small whimpering sound. "Oh, Niko . . . we'll think of something. You have about three months before we have to make an ultimate decision. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't even realize what I was doing. I've hurt you in the past, but it was all fixable. This time, it isn't."
Isidore touches Blice's arm. "It's okay."
"No. It's not okay. I've taken so much from you and now you're going to lose your legs."
"Just stop. I'm not angry. I forgive you." Isidore says.
"Why?"
"I guess that's how you programmed me."
Soft footsteps come up behind them and Isidore turns around to see Clara give a tiny smile and lean against the door of the Jeep.
"How are my two favorite men?" Clara asks. The moonlight glistens on her tear-stained cheeks.
"Fine." They both say in unison.
"You don't look fine."
"We've been talking about some stuff." Isidore says.
"Can I join you?"
Isidore moves closer to Blice and Clara slides next to him.
Clara looks over at Blice. "Is your eye okay?"
"Yeah. What about you? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"You would never actually hurt me, Blice. I know that."
"But I almost did. I really almost forced you."
"I know, but you stopped. That's what matters." Clara says.
Blice turns to Isidore. "You need to know something, Isidore. She can be executed for sleeping with you. That was a felony. I was trying to protect her."
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 43