Zero Rogue

by Matthew S. Cox

  Against the vehement protests of his central nervous system, Aaron scooted to the side of the bed and sat up. He brushed a portal open in the wall of ancient clothes at the exact moment a statuesque nude woman with paper-white skin strode out of the bathroom. Lemon blonde hair trailed behind her, long enough to gather at her calves when she stopped to smile at him. He lost himself ogling her generous hips and bosom, but as soon as he caught sight of her eyes, his libido hit the panic button, and he stared open-mouthed.

  Entirely black, as though someone had replaced her eyeballs with onyx spheres.

  “Come on, I’ve made you some bangers n’ mash.” She glided into the kitchen with the grace of a sylph.

  “Darwin,” yelled Aaron. “Did you slip me some fecking absinthe?”

  “Your associate is out. He’s run into a bit of trouble with those drugs he dropped off at the hotel. Apparently, there was some tampering type wankery afoot, and someone blamed him for it.” Her head peeked around the doorway. “He’s off tryin’ to make it right before they lop his ’ead off.”

  Aaron slapped himself. She was still there.

  He blinked. The woman remained.

  “Are you nutters?”

  “Are you real?”

  “No. I’m a figment of your imagination.” The woman dissolved into a cloud of silvery-white mist, which faded away.

  “Bugger.” Aaron sighed, holding his head in both hands and staring at the tattered carpet between his feet. “I have got to stop doing”―he waved his hand at nothing in particular―“whatever I’m doing that’s making me go crazy.”

  A cold breeze ran across his back. He ignored it until the rubbery Comforgel moved.

  “Just kidding,” said the woman, kneeling right behind him.

  “Gah!” He leapt off the bed, tearing down a large portion of the clothing wall and pulling it with him to the floor. “Bloody…. Shit… Feck. Hell!” He flipped over, clutching a decaying yellow nightgown up to his face like a little boy hiding under his blankets. “What on Earth?”

  She crawled to the edge of the bed, moving like a panther stalking a groundhog. After a lingering glance, she dispersed into fog a second time and reappeared standing. For the first time in his post-Allison life, he found himself six feet away from a nude woman with sex the furthest thing from his mind. The alabaster vixen padded closer. He leaned away from her advance until he wound up flat on his back, her feet on either side of his head, staring up between legs as smooth as a white marble statue.

  Under normal circumstances, he’d have adored the view, but he was too out of his wits to notice any part of her anatomy other than those creepy all-black eyes.

  “Your breakfast is getting cold.” She leaned all her weight on her left leg and poked him in the gut twice with her right big toe. “And by the way, I’m real. Just takin’ the Mick.”

  He shifted his head to watch her upside-down figure sashay to the kitchen. He rolled onto all fours and knee-walked to the doorway. She rounded the table and sat at the pathetic excuse for a table, where two plates of sausage and mashed potatoes waited, doused with gravy. She crossed her legs and dug in, not waiting for him.

  “Are you planning to join me or just kneel there staring? I’m Aurora, by the way. Anna must’ve said something about me by now.”

  Aaron used the wall to pull himself upright, but continued gawking at her. “Aye, she’s mentioned you.”

  “You might as well sit down and eat. Of the trillion-billion possible things that might occur within the next few hours, our having a shag is about as likely as the ghost of Churchill himself grabbing my ass.”

  She stuck a forkful in her mouth and winked at him. Before she could chew twice, she bounced in her seat and made a high-pitched “Oomff” noise. She swallowed before scowling at empty air behind her. “Honestly? Unbelievable. Go away.”

  Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. I did not just smell cigar smoke. “Was that…?”

  “What do you think it was?”

  “I don’t think it was a man who’s been dead almost five hundred years pinching the bum of a naked… woman in my kitchen at…” He looked around. “What damn time is it?”

  “You hesitated? I assure you, I’m all woman.”

  “I was ’aving a momentary debate regarding the reality of succubae.”

  Aurora laughed, clamping her hands over her face to avoid spraying food.

  Okay, not a succubus, just a tart.

  “Your breakfast is getting cold. Sit. Eat.” She pushed the other chair out with her foot.

  He zombie-walked to the table and fell into the seat. The food wasn’t bad. He managed half of one of the sausages before he pointed a potato-laden fork at her. “Why are you naked?”

  “Do you want the basic answer or the full?”

  “I’ll ’ave the lot.”

  “Solid objects don’t follow me into the astral world. I’m far lazier than I am modest, and all the shite hanging up around your bed is dreadful. The stuff that would fit either would fall apart or has mold growing on it. I’m also rather amusing myself at making you uncomfortable.” She dribbled a small amount of gravy on her right breast, clearly on purpose, but pouted anyway.

  Aaron almost dropped his fork when she leaned down as if to lick it away. He gawked. She laughed and wiped it with a napkin. At the look on his face, she burst into laughter while he propped his head up on one fist and stared at his food. That lasted all of a minute until her foot slid up his leg.

  He looked up at her. “Must you?”

  “Is this making you feel awkward?”

  “Aye, a wee bit.”

  “Then I must.” She winked, sliding her toes up along the inside of his thigh.

  “’Ang on a minnit. You said… and Churchill just grabbed your bum. Does that mean?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t Winston. He’s in the Abbey. He’s not going to pop over here that fast just to play grabass with the likes of me. Not with the Germans coming any day now.”

  “Right, yeah.” Aaron nodded as though the continued existence of the ghost of Winston Churchill made complete and total sense. “Of course not. Not to imply your ass isn’t worth an intercontinental trip to pinch.”

  She broke up in a fit of giggles, clamping her hand over her mouth to avoid spraying him.

  “Germans? You do realize that was centuries ago?”

  “Aye.” She moved her head as if rolling her eyes. “He thinks they’re trying to lull us into a sense of complacency by faking it.”

  Aaron blinked. “For almost five hundred years?”

  “He’s a patient man.” She took on a thoughtful look. “Though, if you think about it… Half of the major power within the ACC used to be Germany, so… it does make one wonder.”

  “That’s a bit imprecise. The Corporates have most of Europe. Bah. I appreciate the cooking. It’s been awhile since… Ghost?” He gazed into space.

  Aurora gave him a somber look. “No, I haven’t seen her. I’m sorry.”

  “Right, of course.” His breakfast lost some appeal.

  “That’s a good thing, Aaron. Few dead people linger. Not seeing her about means she’s not upset at you. She knows it wasn’t your fault. If she had issues, she’d likely be all over you.”

  He went red, pale, and red again in the span of a breath. Anger, confusion, rage, and sorrow all got in sucker punches, leaving him open-mouthed and stunned.

  “I’m a clairvoyant. Awakened, of course. Take whatever you know about seers and…” She bobbed her thumb upward.

  “Anna gave up with the sales pitch, now it’s your turn?”

  Aurora sliced off a bit of sausage and used it as a shovel for some potatoes. “Not entirely given up. She’s a bit sore after you had your way with her in the mall. She’s not used to that much cock.”

  He barked a laugh. “A man in a chicken suit! It was a soft landing.”

  “Mmm.”

  Aaron stayed quiet during the considerable pause while she chewed.

 
“I find people for Archon, other Awakened. No, Anna’s not upset with you. Archon wanted me to thank you for keeping her under their radar.”

  “Find people?” He raised an eyebrow. “What if I asked you to find someone for me? Can you locate Shimmer?”

  Aurora dragged a finger through potatoes and gravy and lifted it with a flourish to her lips. He shifted in his chair as she sucked her finger clean. Aurora tapped her nail against her teeth, breaking the silence with two sharp clicks.

  “I’ll find that little hacker for you, but I want you to do me a favor in exchange.”

  “Meet Archon?”

  “I’d appreciate that as well, but no… I want you to tell Pixie about what happened.”

  “Who the devil is Pixie? Wait, you mean Anna?” He picked at his empty plate. “I got the impression she’s rather not fond of that name.”

  “I suppose. Yes. I want you to tell her what happened with your wife.”

  “What the feck for?”

  Aurora’s lips spread into the grin of a succubus. “Dominoes.”

  “What?” He blinked.

  “Dominoes.” She flicked at the air.

  He stared at random objects in the cramped kitchen while mulling it over. At the mall, before the police showed up, it had almost come out. Why he’d come so close to opening up about it eluded him. Not only had he known Anna for less than a week, she was a woman―a physical manifestation of pain, suffering, and loss. He had to protect himself from them. They’d all become Talis in his mind, every single one of them out to jab the knife in deeper. A woman had forced him to kill Allison. Every time he laid eyes on one, he saw either Talis and felt rage, or his wife and felt loss. Pre-emptive callousness had become his armor.

  He lifted his head, gazing between his clawed fingers at Aurora. She wore the expression of a sympathetic soul, nodding as if in reaction to his inner argument.

  “Dominoes?” He asked.

  “Aye.”

  “All right.” Aaron cradled his head in both hands, searching for meaning in the pattern of smeared gravy.

  Aurora slid out of her chair and moved around the table. The white of her stomach glowed in his peripheral vision. “Care for a grope before I get going?”

  “I’m not honestly in the mood, luv.”

  When he raised his head to look at her, he stared at an empty kitchen.

  aron swirled wine around the bottom of a tall glass. Faint electronic music buzzed and beeped at the edges of his awareness, the sort of thing the hoity-toity crowd preferred. It amused him to think about how, sixty years ago, the ‘proper’ crowd decried the same stuff as noise. He looked up from the sloshing burgundy liquid, watching a lone waiter adjust napkins on empty tables.

  Everything not metal or glass was white: tablecloths, napkins, and candles, which turned out to be exceptional holograms. Only their lack of radiant heat gave them away. He decided these cushioned chairs fit quite comfortably in the zone of being comfortable. A vast improvement over the 29P food court. Then again, the price of one plate here would feed a family of sixteen at the mall.

  The waiter offered a pleasant bow as he passed, continuing his life’s mission of napkin tending. Aaron wasted a minute staring at the facing, empty chair before looking out over the room. Everything curved to the right until the ocean of tables vanished beyond a bas-relief of angels and demons locked in battle. The Spire, the restaurant he had suggested, occupied the interior of a torus-shaped building, elevated a hundred and ninety-two stories above West City. Glass composed the majority of the outer wall, angled outward at the top to allow an unobstructed view straight down. Celestial battle in bas-relief wrapped around the inner wall. Except for the plain white elevator doors, nude muscular figures with wings and swords, kept modest by convenient ribbons of billowing cloth, clashed with grotesque creatures rising out of the pits of Hell. He thought he’d remembered reading somewhere the installation cost three or four million credits and took a team of artists two years to finish.

  Much of the city hid behind a rolling haze of cobalt blue. Hovercar lanes at or around the fiftieth story created a dark, shifting grid within the distant murk below. The orderly migration of thousands of vehicles formed eerily straight lines by a combination of distance and electronic navigation aids. If he were a hundred stories lower, the traffic would be a frenetic scramble of disorder. Far removed, it looked serene.

  Each time the elevators opened, he looked over, hoping to see Anna, though only waiters emerged with food on its way up from the kitchen below. He glanced at the time, debating if she’d even bother. The twenty-somethingth time the elevator chimed, he didn’t bother peeling his gaze off the window.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Anna removed her coat, draping it over the back of the chair.

  He looked up, too surprised and relieved to speak.

  “Archon decided to give me another errand. How good are you at locating people who know how to work a jump-capable starship? I’m having no luck.”

  He smiled at her gown, two swaths of deep blue fabric crossed over her chest, suspended by silver chains over bare shoulders. The hem fell mid-thigh in a purposeful attempt to create the look of a tattered pixie dress. Silvery flecks glinted from her cheeks and around her eyes, the lightest touch of body glitter spread away from her azure eye shadow. Her dress, her lips, and her eyes matched.

  Aaron spent a moment staring. “You look magical. Are you sure your man is all right with us meeting?”

  “Yes, he’s aware I don’t cheat.” She winked.

  “I can’t say I’d be so trusting of other men. You’re ephemeral. All that’s missing are the faerie wings.”

  Her mood seemed to smash through the floor.

  “Umm.” He coughed. “Sorry?”

  “It’s all right. You couldn’t ’ave known.” She held a small purse composed of several thousand tiny dark grey metallic squares.

  “Interesting bag.”

  “It’s dielectric. Keeps the ’mini safe.” She brightened. “Interesting suit. Is it blue or black?”

  “Depends on its mood.” Aaron smiled. “Lately, it’s been a bit of both.”

  “Good evening,” said a waiter in a long-tailed white coat. Six silver rods down his chest held the garment closed, tiny jousting lances pointing in alternating directions. “Are you ready to order?”

  Aaron gestured at Anna.

  “That’s fine.” Anna offered the waiter a polite smile and took her seat.

  The waiter reached out, waving his arm in a gesture that appeared to unroll an ancient paper scroll in thin air. The hologram cycled among several pictures, each featured a main course with smaller images around it indicating the supporting dishes. With each image came a wearisome description of ingredients, down to the region from which they were imported as well as statements of how much care and love went into the preparation.

  Aaron ordered lamb chops covered in a garlic and rosemary drizzle spritzed with ground mint leaf. Anna chose the steak kew. She forced an interested smile as the waiter explained their sourcing of genuine Asian beef from the best growers.

  “Excellent choices.” The waiter bowed.

  Anna helped herself to the wine, pouring her glass up halfway. “What are you smiling at?”

  “Your nails are blue, with silver doves.”

  A trace of pink filled in her cheeks. “I had to look the part. This isn’t a food court.”

  “Indeed.” He held up his glass. “Well, after three of these, I think I’m going to tell you something.”

  “I’m listening.” She sipped some wine. “I’m still taken, no matter what you’re going to say.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all where I’m going with this, but, I understand.” His hand emerged from his pocket, setting Allison’s nameplate in the center of the table. The matte-black metal looked like a hole in the snowy tablecloth. “That was my wife’s.”

  She touched it with a fingertip. “It’s cold.”

  “Always is. Not sure if it means an
ything. Aurora said she’s not loitering about.”

  “Sorry.” Anna withdrew her hand. After an awkward moment of silence, she glanced at the window. “I used to be an exotic dancer. My costume had holographic pixie’s wings.” Her face went from pink to crimson. “Costume… bother, it was just a harness with a projector.”

  “The reason I’ve been delaying meeting your boy Archon is I’m hunting the woman who forced me to kill my wife.”

  Anna’s cheeks matched the tablecloth. “Oh, Aaron.” She grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry…”

  He bristled at the incoming pity, forcing his expression not to project his distaste. Anna’s doe-eyed stare offered a glimpse at someone she used to be. “We’d gotten a report of a robbery in progress at a jewelry shop. A couple of their security people in the back room watched a woman walk in and tell the clerks to put the valuables in a sack. No weapons, no threats, all smiles. When the salespeople did what she asked and seemed overjoyed to do it, Div 1 kicked it over to us.”

  “Suggestive?”

  “More than that, I think. Telempath as well. The clerks looked like they adored her. Anyway, I’d spent the better part of my time on the force begging our captain to let us ride as partners. It’s against all sorts of regs, you know.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Aaron paused as the waiter returned with a ginger salad for Anna and a bowl of potato and chive soup for him. The man insisted they taste and be pleased with the offerings before he departed. He sampled a spoonful and gave the man an approving nod. After a mild bow, the waiter walked away.

  “We’d been riding together for only a month, and we got this call. Honestly, I didn’t expect too much difficulty with it. Surveillance footage looked like a nonviolent event, despite that she had a bunch of thugs with her. I should’ve been more careful. The authorities don’t fancy suggestives much.”

  Anna mumbled with a mouthful of greens. “Mmm.”

  “So, we show up and do the usual routine. Police, keep your hands where we can see them, the whole spiel. They take off out the back into an unfinished space. To make a long story short, we cornered her and well, this bitch looks right at me and says ‘kill your partner.’” He gripped the tablecloth, once more seeing Allison’s terror replay itself. It got a fraction easier when Anna squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “The instant her eyes flashed white, I braced myself. Her voice hit my brain like a hot knife. We’d been required to work with a department suggestive to develop a tolerance against it, such as you can…”