“Why the hell not?” The whiskey had been awesome. I even felt a little bit drunk. It was like being me again. I looked at my pasty white hands and smiled.
“Shit. We’ll get in shit for this.”
“What are we supposed to do when we’re bored?” I didn’t get what the big deal was. If I was confined to this room I was going to tank the mini-bar. The TV was boring; adverts took over every five minutes, like the networks supposed the average American had the attention span of a goldfish. It was bullshit.
“Didn’t Nine come and visit you?” He pulled out the band that was keeping his surfer-dude hair back.
“I told her to get lost.”
“You told her to… She was supposed to keep you company.”
“Aye, well. She’s stupid and boring.”
“So you didn’t do any… sex stuff with her?” He raised his eyebrows at the stash of bottles. “Why did you drain the Viagra, then?”
“I didn’t know what was what.” I knew what he meant about the sex not being as good now, having found the porn channel on the TV. Apparently, wank no 1 cleared out the last of the spunk residing in my dead bollocks. Rubbing out air hurts like fucking hell.
“Jesus,” he whispered, kicking the bin. “You used up everything?”
“I told you, I was bored.”
He stared at the bin in dismay, pulling at the skin under his eyes with his fingers. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
“So, tell me.” It was getting boring. I’d had enough of being bored. He put his eyes on me. He still looked completely human and completely devastated.
“We’ll get the really shit jobs for the next hell knows how long. They won’t restock until we’ve paid for it in blood, sweat and tears.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You prick.” He fell back on his bed, defeated.
I felt a little bad, but still… “How do you know what happens when we empty the fridge?”
“I did the same thing my first day here.”
I couldn’t help the snort of laughter. He joined in. It felt good, like being alive. He threw a pillow at me.
“I can’t believe this,” he told me. “You realise what this means?”
“Necro jobs?”
He snorted. “Get real. It means we get to clean Britt’s penthouse. She’s a bitch, man. You’d better believe its torture.”
“Cleaning? Right then.”
“The last time she gave me Viagra and made me scrub the floors naked, and she wandered around with her tits out. Every time I tried to touch myself I had a screaming fit. You have to do what she wants when she gives you a job. She told me not to touch anything but the floors. I ended up with carpet burns down there.” He shuddered deeply.
It made him sound a lot dumber than I’d thought he was. He narrowed his eyes at me. I’m not great at stopping what I’m thinking from showing up on my expression, I suppose.
“Like you’d have had more restraint. Tell me you didn’t jack off tonight, and I’ll show you the face of a liar,” he said flicking his finger at the mirror across the room.
“She’s not got the best tits,” I said.
He gaped at me. “Are you joking?”
“What? Nine was in here earlier taking her clothes off. It was like balloons on a stick.”
He snorted again. “The clones do their own thing. Nine doesn’t eat anything solid, and she’s had her boobs done. She’s like… the runt of the litter. The rest are way hotter, but nothing compares to the real thing.”
There was a hint of awe in his voice when he spoke about the real thing. I did seem to remember thinking Britt was mind-numbingly gorgeous when she’d picked me up at my scummy motel. I’d since brushed it off as magic. She was a User, and as an Animate I was more susceptible to her magical touch.
“So she’s a tease, then? Never would have guessed that.”
He laughed. “You’re funny.”
My room-mate’s a retard.
Twenty-Seven - Nick
The bitch wasn’t around. I let go of Pete’s dumb-ass little-brother-figure. He flapped his hands at me. I drew him a look.
“I just put us inside the tiger’s cage and you want to have a slap fight?”
He glanced about, staggering and righting himself again. I left him to his pathetic babbling and hand wringing. The woman had the penthouse that took up the entire top floor of the building. Rich and powerful tend to go hand-in-hand. I sought out her bedroom. The element of surprise was on our side. She’d likely be tied up with business matters downstairs for a while. Just how long we’d never be able to know. I couldn’t help thinking it might be a good time to formulate a plan.
“Are you helping or standing about like a muppet?”
He skedaddled over, looking ready to throw another girly punch or two. I held up my hands.
“Oh no, don’t hurt me… please. We’re wasting time.” I put my money on the double doors past the floor-to-ceiling window. The room was huge, the bed bigger than king-sized.
“What are you doing?” He was barely containing his anger.
“Finding a weapon,” I told him, rooting through her stuff. She had very little in the way of personal items. I doubted the Bible in the bedside drawer meant anything to her other than a good joke when she needed cheering up. The various beauty items lying around looked new. Everything was too new to really be hers.
“I’m not sure about this.” I found him staring out the open door, arms folded tightly. He was hopeless. She’d eat him right up.
“Get sure. She’s coming.” I didn’t know that, but he jumped back like I did. I smiled to myself. This was useless. She knew exactly what she was doing. It was bad news for my hastily forming plan.
I went for the bathroom. Even her toothbrush was fresh out of the box. This wasn’t funny anymore. Right, what else? She’s been living in the room for a while. There should be something in the place that had a bit of her hair, her skin, her some-damn-thing on it! I used my magic to check. Level 4 spell, basic as hell and it took months to learn. With a sigh, I walked back out into the main room. The spell shot that stupid idea down. Everything was obsessively clean. There wasn’t a speck of DNA to be found. It had to be a spell. She was better than I’d thought.
Pete’s cousin looked at me. The guy was freaking out. He wasn’t used to being in a life or death type of situation.
I smiled. “Don’t worry. We’re getting Pete back.” Ownership of an Animate would jump me up a level instantly. Being stuck at level 5 for three years was getting boring. I wasn’t inherently talented enough to make anywhere near level 10. No matter how hard I worked, I just didn’t have the energy to hit those high spells. The ceiling Pete’s contract would break was about the first thought that put a proper smile on my face in ages. “Right, don’t take this the wrong way or anything…”
I grabbed the back of his shirt and slammed his head into the coffee table. He barely got out a gasp before he conked out. I left him lying on the coffee table. A poorly presented gift, I supposed, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Too fucking bad if it’s not.
I went to her wet bar and helped myself. My proposal was going to have to be good enough. If she wasn’t biting I might as well have just signed my own execution order. I’d just need to be persuasive. There were always good old fashioned fisticuffs if it went south. Girls usually don’t think a guy will hit them. Ah, element of surprise, my old friend. Here’s to you.
She teleported in when I was putting the glass down. Every bit as inhumanly gorgeous and lithe as she’d appeared on stage, though somewhat dare I say pissed off looking. I grinned at her.
“I’m your biggest fan.”
She lifted her hand, and I pointed to my little passed out present. Coming forwards, she looked at him, cocking her head. She’d probably need it explained. Blondes.
“You might wonder why I broke into your room.”
“No, I might wonder how you broke in,” she said, narrowing her eyes
at me.
I laughed. The protections she’d used were hack-able. My three-year perfected teleport punched through them without even setting off a single warning bell.
“You’ll just have to keep wondering, Sweetheart.”
“Get out,” she told me, readying a spell.
“You have something of mine. Give it back, and I’ll go.” I poured myself another drink. I felt the power she was drawing on for her undoubtedly high level spell. She’d most likely try to shift me through time and space like she had that poxy horse and cart. I sucked down the second whiskey and made myself invisible. It might not stop her, but it would sure as hell slow her down.
“I might have guessed,” she said under her breath.
She folded her arms and stared in my general direction. This was probably the last thing she’d wanted to come home to. I moved slowly. The carpet was deep enough to leave footprints. I darted onto the hardwood by the couch, jeans clinking. I’d curse my poor clothing choice later.
“All right,” she said. “What do you want?”
“My Animate back.”
She dropped her arms and stalked forward. I moved, stupid jeans alerting her.
“Who might that be?” She said it with a wry little smile. She knew before I even said it.
“Pete MacDonald.”
She laughed at me, about an inch away from my chest. “As if I couldn’t guess. He’s mine now.”
“Like hell he is.”
“Says the man too afraid to face me,” she said with a mocking smirk.
“Promise you won’t try to send me away, and maybe I’ll…”
She reached out and grabbed my arm tightly. “If I wanted you gone, you would be.”
I shook off the spell. Her smile was decidedly shark-like, this time. “What’s with the normal?”
She meant Mickey. A lot of Users can barely contain their superiority complexes. What me? No comment.
“He’s a virgin.”
She laughed. The girl has a sense of humour, I’ll give her that.
“You brought me a sacrifice?” She shook her head. “That’s a new one.”
“Well, I figured you already had a pony.”
I could feel the power welling up again and my lack of a back-up plan was beginning to worry me.
“You can have Pete back with one condition,” she told me, letting go of my arm.
“What’s the condition?” I already knew it wouldn’t be pleasant, that was a given.
She put a hand up and tugged on my lip ring. “Take this knife and make me a new Animate.”
I jerked back at the sudden appearance of the kitchen knife in her right hand. Her left one very nearly hauled my lip ring out. The sharp stab of pain was nothing compared to the horror of what she wanted from me. My fingers closed around the knife’s handle. She stood back and folded her arms, watching me carefully.
Mickey, man, this is gonna hurt. I brought the blade down, casting at the same time. There was a good chance the faked death might be detected. It really depended how much attention she was paying. I got the feeling she was closely scrutinising the whole thing. He bled. The illusion of the knife cutting deep wasn’t enough. I had to break the skin. He jerked under the blade and I smeared the blood over it when I pulled it out. I wasn’t sure how the whole Animate thing worked. I stole his breath with another low-level spell. He moved a little. I cast the glamour and prayed it would hold. I’m not generally the praying sort, mind you. It just seemed like the type of situation where it couldn’t go amiss. The last thing I did was wake him. He sucked in a breath and sat up. The breathing thing wasn’t a deal-breaker. Some of them just couldn’t shake the habit.
She looked at me. I was sure she was going to tell me I was a moron. Oddly, she looked impressed. Huh.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” she muttered, glancing me over with what I’m going to assume was actually respect.
Mickey was staring at his deep blue arms. He looked at me and gaped. “What the…”
“Right, enough of this bullshit,” I said, “bring Pete out.”
She shrugged and snapped her fingers. My long-lost neighbour appeared in the room. He looked alive courtesy of a glamour spell. Kind of ironic, I thought. Mickey rather unsurprisingly gasped and lunged towards him. Pete froze, staring at him. If he blew my cover he’d regret it. I wasn’t planning on giving him the chance.
“What happened?” Pete asked, noticing me and looking even more confused.
“Right, time to go, Petie-pie. Smell ya later, Britts.” I grabbed his wrist and at the last second, Mickey’s as well. The teleport wasn’t exactly instantaneous this time. Damn it. She smirked at me, coming towards us. I did a little frequency adjustment and we were out of there, free and clear. Or so I thought.
The dank wet hole we landed in didn’t look anything like Mickey’s room at the clown hotel. I checked for Britt. She hadn’t tagged along. She’d tried to stop the teleport but something had confused her, I’m guessing Mickey still being alive. That shit matters, because, well, matter is what we’re transporting. So, dead or alive, there’s a difference big enough to taste.
“Where the hell are we?” Pete didn’t sound exactly overjoyed at his rescue. He hauled himself up from the foot-deep water, shaking the water from his hair and pulling at his sodden hoody.
“How should I know?” Honestly, the nerve of some people. I tried to clear my head. The where didn’t matter if I could pull another teleport out of my ass. The thing is it’s not as easy as I’ve made it look. Every spell I use is another signature on an energy IOU. My bill was getting substantially bigger ever minute I was stuck fighting off a higher-level opponent.
“You brought us here!” He had the cheek to sound agitated. I gave him a silencing glower, a magical quiet down order that should have shut him the hell up. He opened his mouth. “This place smells fucking old and… a lot like home.”
I looked about. We were in some sort of poorly lit passageway; the wall was sealed up behind us but there were steps up and out of the water in front and slits in the brick someplace high up enough to let in a miniscule amount of light. The dark narrow stairway was decidedly town underground. Aye, I had a feeling Britt had sent us home. Where exactly was another matter, and one I should be able to figure out quickly enough if I could only get my goddamn magic to work.
“Hey, where’s…” I should have thought of it sooner. Mickey had been quiet since we’d gotten there. It was only because he hadn’t made it with us. “Shit!”
Pete frowned at me. He looked like the dead thing he was. Which probably meant…
“We left Mickey back with Britt.”
He blinked and looked at me. “No. He was teleported, I saw him.”
Well, that was a bit of a relief then. Maybe. “I wonder where the hell he is then.”
“Could you start maybe by wondering where we are, so we can get out of this freaking hole? You think?” He looked past me to the staircase. “Why did he look dead?”
There was something threatening in his tone. “Because he needed to for Britt to give you up.”
“She gave me up?” He looked hopeful.
“Ah, not exactly…” She hadn’t torn up his contract and I wasn’t his rightful User so any contract signing was going to come under the ‘illegal’ category. I’d messed things up ever so slightly, but I was confident I could turn it around given enough time and my goddamned powers back under my control. “But we’re working on it. I’m going to be your User.”
“What? I don’t think so.”
“You need one, you do realise that? It’s not legal for you to stay unclaimed for longer than a week.”
Pete pulled at his sopping-wet hair, looking like a sad little boy who’d just had his sweets stolen.
“Chin up,” I said brightly. “I can’t be any worse than her.”
By the look on his face, I don’t think he believed me.
Twenty-Eight - Pete
I trudged up the stone staircase
after my new master. The further we got, the narrower the stairs seemed to get, making for a treacherous climb in my saturated trainers. I don’t know how I knew we weren’t in Vegas anymore for definite. I didn’t think they had anything this old and cobbled there, but more than that there was something different in the atmosphere. I didn’t even know an atmosphere was a real distinguishable thing. Apparently, dead me knew better.
“Can you see an exit yet?” I made the mistake of glancing back once or twice to see nothing but disorienting darkness. The wet hole we’d landed in was long gone. The staircase had started twisting and turning just to add to the overall treacherous effect.
“Not yet. Be quiet.”
Nick never had been much of a people person. I knew Mickey had to have roped him into the rescue, but I doubted he’d come up with this plan. I was sure Kit knew about the contract and owner rules. There was no way Mickey did. So, maybe it was wishful thinking but I was willing to believe she was behind the whole rescue attempt, blind hatred for me gone after she’d realised how much she’d miss me… Okay, I can’t even make myself believe that last part. Somewhere inside my head I’m laughing at my own stupidity.
“Why can’t you just magic us out of here?”
“What part of be quiet isn’t computing with you?” His irritated grumbling was low but my super-hearing picked it up, loud and clear.
I’d need to sign a contract to make him my User. I couldn’t go back to Britt. However nicely she dressed it up slavery was slavery.
“I want to negotiate our contract.” I didn’t like the thought of being anyone’s property. Who would? Apparently, there was no going back now, though, and if I couldn’t keep myself to myself I was damn well getting the best deal possible out of it.
“There’s no negotiating.”
“Then I won’t sign.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“What if I just killed Britt, instead?”
“You really didn’t read the manual, did you?” He sighed. “She dies and the magic running her Animates dies with her.”
“So if I sign your contract and you die…”
“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” he cut in, quick to protest.
Dead Man Running (Raised Book 1) Page 10