Her advantage didn’t last. She was an infinitely superior fighter but Zero had hardware. He blocked and drove a steel-jointed elbow into her collarbone. The blow cut into her flesh again. Asenath sucked air between her teeth and stumbled back.
Holding his arms out slightly from his sides, Zero separated his fingers; the tools glinted under the spotlight. At the opposite side of the cage, Asenath bared her teeth. The thrill of the fight was more intoxicating than any hit of Dazzle Dust. She focused through the carnage of noise and reminded herself that every opponent had their weakness. The secret was to avoid those deadly rotating hands and concentrate on Zero’s flesh parts.
Again, he came for her. This time, Asenath crouched to avoid the blows, drove out a leg and whacked the front of one foot into the reflex spot on the man’s left ankle. She somersaulted aside as Zero collapsed to his knees, momentarily floored. Asenath was on him straight away, driving punches into his kidneys.
Content to let her exhaust herself, Zero stayed tucked in. Asenath cursed internally. Her options were to stay and pummel the man to no effect, or back off.
The decision was made for her when the bell sounded and the referee forced them apart. Zero stalked off to the opposite side of the ring, nursing bruised ribs. Asenath shook the sweat from her hair, squatted on her haunches and pressed her hands to her forehead. While the Sirinese was sucking down water and taking a rest from his gum shield, Asenath slowed her breath and focused entirely on one goal – to emerge as victor. In her mind’s eye she mapped the vulnerable spots on the Sirinese’s body – genitalia, kneecaps, windpipe, nose.
The respite was short lived. The bell rang for the second round. Zero strode back across the ring, neck bunched, jaw tense.
Height, agility, flexibility, and years of training . . . Asenath ticked off her list of advantages. He came at her hard, arms revolving in their greased sockets; she found her moment and launched an uppercut at his chin. As the man staggered, she landed a sidekick, her foot connecting with his groin.
Zero roared in agony. She kept up the assault, driving multiple kicks into his soft belly and chest. He reeled backwards, the metal limbs making him top-heavy.
Asenath locked into the rhythm of her attack, raining down blows until Zero hit the floor. He lashed out, forcing her to arch back and weave to avoid the slicing hands. She might have been battling her shadow.
Her opponent hit home twice. Asenath clenched her jaw, feeling the hot spill of blood at a forearm, the back of a wrist. For a split second, she understood fear again – that emotion she had trained so hard to conquer. Then she saw Megumi’s face amongst the sea of strangers outside the cage, and she was struck by a sudden wave of boredom. The fight had satisfied the crowd’s need for gore and violence. Time to wrap things up.
Zero staggered to his feet. His bare chest was already blackening with bruises. Asenath suspected that a good few ribs had suffered hairline fractures. One thing was certain – the entertainment was not complete until she put Zero’s specialist biomods out of action.
Uporaba človeka moč proti njemu. “Use a man’s strength against him.” Her Commodore’s favourite mantra.
Charging at the cage wall, Asenath leapt up and kicked off the mesh. Momentum carried her into a somersault. Her right foot connected with Zero’s skull, her left with his chest. He lost his balance and stumbled back. Asenath landed, feet firmly grounded, reached for the man’s shoulders and propelled him hard into the cage wall. The whirring digits ripped into the mesh and knitted with it. Zero bucked again and again in a desperate effort to get free.
The referee stepped up.
“Yield?”
Asenath flexed her fingers and bunched them into fists.
“Yield,” said the Sirinese through bloody teeth,
The referee held up Asenath’s arm and the crowd erupted.
*
Megumi laid her knife and fork down on the empty plate.
“You were right. The fava beans were excellent.”
Asenath soaked up the slops with a piece of pita bread, wolfing it down. Nothing stimulated her appetite like a fight.
“How is your shoulder?”
“It is fine. The waitress bandaged it for me.”
She became aware of the other woman watching her and said, “What do you want to know?”
“Excuse me?”
“The way you are staring suggests you have questions.” Asenath put her elbows on the table. “What do you want to know?”
Megumi cocked her head. “You are Brah: Warrior caste . . .”
“Was Brah.” Asenath swigged from her cup of Jackogin. “I was expelled. Now I’m Izobani. Why else would I live in the Crease? Your next question, no doubt, is why was I expelled?”
“Yes.”
Asenath shook her head, amused. The doctor wasn’t shy about asking personal questions.
“I do not lie with men,” she answered just as bluntly.
“You are celibate?”
“No, I do not lie with men.”
“Ah.” The revelation didn’t seem to cause waves. But her ostracism did. “Is it really as simple as that in your culture? And how did they know, those in authority I mean?”
Something about the way Megumi asked her questions – bare-faced and apparently without prejudice – made Asenath more truthful than usual.
“I fell in love with my Commodore.” She pictured Commodore Nefer. Skin like a sunrise. Stretched out naked on the bed in her private quarters. “We had a brief relationship. It ended when Nefer decided her religion mattered more.” Asenath sounded sour, and she was. Nefer had renounced her act of transgression as a momentary lapse in moral fibre – an admission which won her the right to stay on as Commodore and Brah.
“Mama Sunstar does not condemn. Hers is the old religion though. Too often this country has been influenced by West, never more damagingly than in its adoption of the Saints and their sanitised ways. Commodore Nefer said sorry for her so-called sin and was welcomed back into the fold. I chose to dance on with Mama Sunstar and the creed which teaches all consensual love is sacrosanct. It was a choice which lost me friends, wealth and status.”
“And your family?”
Asenath threw back the remainder of her drink. She poured a fresh shot. “My family might be Brah, but they are good people. They live in Zan City now. My father thought it prudent to leave Jeridia – or as he calls it, “the dying plain’.”
Megumi nodded. “Every day I wait for news from my family. They promised to send for me once they found a place where the grass still grows. This poverty.” She held out her hands to the tumbledown bar. “It’s all consuming.”
She looked sad suddenly and Asenath held up her cup. “A toast. To beauty in unexpected places.”
Megumi smiled as they clinked glasses.
*
Casa Caca wasn’t the kind of place Megumi expected to visit once, let alone twice in the same day. As a medic, she had often visited the bedridden in the Crease. But she hadn’t knowingly entered the domain of criminal Izobani before. Now though, Asenath’s whiskey-soaked voice and sparring skills had sunk hooks into her. She was not so much invited back to the tenement as dragged by her fascination with the woman.
The Jeridian brave gestured her inside the empty apartment. She closed the door. Megumi was aware of her wedding band. The heat of evening pressed in.
It was Asenath who strode over, grasped the back of Megumi’s head and kissed her. Not a loving kiss. A sharpness of teeth and a tongue forced between her lips. The brave’s strong hands were already moulding her breasts, the swiftness of it prompting Megumi to gasp and kiss back deeper.
When Asenath pulled away, Megumi felt a wave of disappointment. But the brave was shedding her clothes – the skin-tight vest to reveal a taut stomach and small breasts, the moleskin boots and suede jeans peeled off and discarded. Moonlight blazed through the large windows. Asenath’s legs were long and muscular; they shone like polished redwood. Her hips were narrow and s
he was shaved where her legs met.
“You like to look?”
Caught out, Megumi redirected her gaze to the Jeridian’s face.
“No.” Asenath took hold of Megumi’s chin. “Look.”
Megumi endured the tight grip a few agonising seconds. She pulled away and started to undo her dress.
Asenath smacked her hands aside. “I do it, ya.”
The Jeridian leant in and soaked up the heat from Megumi’s lips. Megumi felt a fresh burst of desire as Asenath broke free. Strong hands were busy with the buttons of her dress. Megumi stumbled under Asenath’s pressure and rested against the edge of the long table.
“Arch,” commanded Asenath, dragging Megumi’s dress down off her shoulders. Megumi floundered, not understanding the instruction.
“Arch your back.” Asenath fed a hand around to the base of her spine. The brave lowered her head and Megumi arched, feeling the spill of breath across her collarbones, the wet heat at her nipples. Asenath’s free hand slid down her stomach and in at her underwear. The brave’s fingers splayed and quested, and finally dug in. Megumi bucked, her legs automatically rising, her heels gripping the other woman’s hips.
Asenath forced her to stay arched, the soft brown mouth feasting at her breasts while a tight bud of fingers took her deeply and relentlessly. Megumi wanted to run her hands over the brave’s bandaged shoulder, share in the intimacy of touch. But apparently Asenath had no need for it. As demonstrated by the cage fight, she was built to conquer, Megumi realised, while struggling to brace herself against the table. The knowledge that she was helpless against the warrior terrified and intoxicated her. She wanted to break free. Her arms were cramping while the lace of her underwear cut in at her hips. Yet she couldn’t help soaking up the pleasure enforced on her. Pressing harder against Asenath’s flanks, experiencing the confusion of tongue, lips and mouth passing from one breast to another, she reached the tipping point then fell away from it as if her body was teasing her.
“Please.” The word escaped her lips before she could even process why. But Asenath understood, switching the thrust into a steady swirling motion. Megumi came in a sugared rush, gulping down air and shivering deliciously. Asenath slowed her hand and finally stepped away. She allowed Megumi a few moments to quiet her heartbeat. The oppressive heat settled in between them again.
Later, when the Jeridian had used her twice more and taken whatever pleasure she wanted in return, Megumi slipped back into her dress and hunted out a cramped bathroom. She scooped up mouthfuls of metallic brown water from the faucet.
Returning to the main room, she found Asenath lounging on a worn couch. The warrior had put her jeans back on but was otherwise naked.
Megumi drummed the fingers of one hand on the table. She felt the woman’s gaze on her. “I’d best go.” When Asenath didn’t reply, she started for the door.”Who are you protecting really?”
The question came out of nowhere. Megumi’s breath caught in her throat.
“Excuse me?”
Asenath was on her feet and across the room in seconds. Megumi panicked as the strong hands that had touched her so intimately went to her throat.
“This great concern for your patients, which led you to my door? I do not think it is the whole truth. This neighbourhood is too dangerous for a little rich girl, because that is what you are. Ya, you enjoy the thrill of a backstreet bar, a cage fight, casual sex. But I see your loathing to step out of this room and into the arms of the night. The Crease is not your neighbourhood, even if you do help its poor in daylight. Those silk underthings beneath your pretty dress cost more than any Izobani earns in a month. You say your family are travelling and they will send for you, but something keeps you here, something precious, something the Blood Worms want and you must protect.” Asenath brought her face close. Megumi felt her breath on her lips. “Or should I say someone?”
*
The sun was up by the time Asenath awoke. She rubbed a thumb and forefinger across her eyelids – just as a loud rap sounded on the front door. Had she sensed the visitor’s approach?
“Enough noise. I come now!” Asenath peeled herself off the saggy couch. Her scimitar lay on the table; she picked it up and used the tip to slide open the spy panel in the door.
A rheumy eye stared in at her.
“Late night, was it?”
Asenath closed the panel. Laying down her blade, she unbolted the door. Tadinanefer hobbled inside, the colourful robes of her order at odds with her gnarled face. Asenath had no idea how old Tadinanefer was; the priestess looked not so much old as pickled. Her forehead was decorated with a crude depiction of the evil eye, drawn in the traditional paste of crushed Blue Glow beetles and designed to ward off spirits. She walked with a twisted cane and stank of incense.
“Got any brew?” The priestess eyed the table.
“I’ll steep some.” Asenath went to the kitchenette. Five minutes later, the leaf mulch was brewed. She poured two cups of dank, tannin liquid.
“What’s her name?” called the old woman.
“Who?” Asenath put a measure of Jackogin in Tadinanefer’s cup, the way the priestess liked it.
“Who? Oh Asenath, you at least got her name? The girl you fumbled a few short hours ago.” The priestess thumbed her nose. “I sniffed out the pair of you.”
Asenath grinned. “I got bored, ya.”
“Bored!” Tadinanefer shook her head. Joints cracking, she settled onto one of the high backed chairs. “Horny more like.”
“Maybe.” Asenath took a gulp from the steaming cup. The brew wide-eyed her. “Her name is Megumi Midori. She’s a doctor. Works out back of a whorehouse on Aziel Street.”
“Never heard of her. Then again, I ain’t one for conventional medicine.” Tadinanefer tapped her stick against the carpetbag beside her; it contained the tools of the old woman’s trade: elixirs, herbs, mineral pastes, and a surgeon’s toolkit.
“What have you heard? I presume Lizzie-Anne asked you to put the word out.”
“Yes, the little strumpet came knocking last night. Said you were mindful of Blood Worms. None in sight, I told her. But she says look again and would you know it? There’s a gang holed up at Stick Row. Got themselves attached to an abattoir.” Tadinanefer sucked her gums. “I’m not imagining the horrors they get up to there.”
“Any visiting surgeons in town?” Asenath asked. Blood Worms stole people but it was the surgeons who paid for living flesh and experimented on it.
“There’s talk of a surgeon holed up in Zan City. Lots of dollars. Into the unique.”
“Unique?”
“Odd skin tone, high intellect, athletes, anomalies and so forth. Surgeons will always pay more for unusual specimens over your common Izobani.” The old woman slurped from her brew cup. “Blood Worms pick on us because Jeridians heal faster. Makes us better subjects for the bio-morph implants. Pinkies sell well on the black market too, while a Showmaniese or Siriense anomaly with proven healing ability will attract a mighty price.”
“Megumi has employed us as bodyguard to one of her patients. She eventually let on that our charge is a six year old boy. A Twists survivor. Blood Worms have already tried to snatch him twice.”
Tadinanefer snorted into her cup. “Ah, it makes sense now. Lots of rumblings among certain parties in the Crease about a hunt for a boy. Talk of bounties, hefty ones too.” The rheumy eyes pinched. “Sure you want to get involved, Asenath? You and your friends have a nice little earner in protection, but there’s something whiffy about this situation. Has to be more to the kid than this Megumi is letting on. Surgeons don’t offer sums like those being bandied around without hoping to acquire something special. Something unique.”
Asenath sat down, put her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. A child was being pursued by Blood Worms and Megumi was doing everything in her power to protect that child. Asenath thought about the soft burn of Megumi’s tongue, the strangeness of a woman who treated Izobani and drank Rakija, but who seeme
d at odds with the Crease.
The truth struck Asenath like a blow to the jaw.
“A mother would go to dangerous extremes to protect her son. The boy is a Twists survivor and Showmaniese, which would make him one of these rare commodities you mentioned. It would certainly explain the bounties on his head.”
“The kid is Megumi’s son. Why didn’t she just say so?”
“I do not know.” Asenath lent back in her chair, arms stretching, legs going out under the table. She knitted her hands behind her head. “When will the Blood Worms come for him again?”
“Blood Worms won’t wait about,” Leaning down, Tadinanefer rooted around in her carpetbag and produced a small black velvet bag. Unfastening the neck, she shook five tiny bones onto the table, spread them about and clucked her tongue. “They will strike tonight. So where is the boy now?” The priestess sniffed. “Is he here?”
“With his mother, I presume.” Asenath picked up her scimitar and ran a finger along its shining blade. “Thank you, Tadinanefer. Let’s hope I will be in need of your other services before the day is out.”
*
251 Marlow Avenue was a featureless block hewn from the grey bedrock on which the city was built. Once upon a time the building’s harsh edges would have been softened by fauna and flora. But the same lethal insecticide which had created West’s dustbowl had leeched Jeridia’s land, and neighbouring Siria. Asenath had no doubt that the residence was exclusive – it was on the right side of town and among other utilitarian but well preserved homes.
She rapped her knuckles against the large front door. At her back, the rest of the Tai Mowa gang assessed their surroundings.
“Ask me, these richies haven’t got it much better than us,” said Ragorne. “Sure, they’ve more space and no open sewers, but these buildings look like tombs.”
“We came to Jeridia to escape West’s dustbowl. Recently it seems we’ve just exchanged dust for rock,” shot Lizzie-Anne while Arlene chipped in, “No wonder Blood Worms are picking us off. We’ve nowhere to hide in this hell-hole.”
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