“I give you Konstantin Dobrynin, CEO and chairman of VSKK.”
The audience swelled into the muted clap of gloved hands and polite men. His touch lingered on her arm as long as distance allowed, their fingers slid through each other until her hand fell at her side. As if pained to do so, he pulled his gaze away from her and smiled at the crowd while he moved onto the stage.
“ Thank you, Yevgeniy.” Konstantin bounded up to the stage, shaking hands with the man and adding a healthy back pat. Audio gear in the podium flooded the entire hall with his voice. “The buyout of RedEx was a long, time-consuming process involving hundreds of hours of careful negotiations…”
Kirsten slouched in the seat, tuning out the boring details. His lustrous voice seemed far less enthralling while discussing market share and growth predictions. She stared at her now-clean hands, at the peach-colored polish on her nails. Far from the finger that plucked open the can of military rations ten years ago. If only I knew I could use suggestion back then. Kirsten gathered a napkin to her face and cried in silence. She sniffled, allowing a brief red-eyed glance up at Konstantin, who continued to rumble on about the particulars of a giant fish eating a little fish. However, this was different. According to him, the giant fish was simply pulling the little one under its fin and protecting it from bigger, meaner fish. VSKK was a protector within the corporate sea.
She crumpled the napkin into a ball in her lap, unable to listen to him or bear the sight of any of these people who never found a whiff of garbage to be appetizing, or had to let someone take advantage of them just so they could eat. The canned stew left a mark. After hiding in her lair for two days, she had gone topside through the ever-shrinking pipe. Kirsten remembered sitting just outside the thing, wondering how many more times she would be able to squeeze herself through it to escape the dark. That day, something scared her more than Mother. The idea of that man waiting for her, of having to do that again, caused her to lie down in the alley and sleep on the surface.
He couldn’t fit through the pipe.
Kirsten looked at the room, bound to her chair by the fear that all eyes would be on her if she stood up and ran out. She let herself slip half into dreaming. Boredom and disdain for the people around her conspired to lift her out of her present now. The world above had felt cavernous the morning when she awoke in the alley. For two years, she had lived under a metal sky with ghosts as her primary caretakers. When she did climb through the tubes to the surface, she did so at night so Mother could not find her. People saw her that morning in the daylight; police came for her while she rooted through a trash processor looking for something to eat.
I really did freak out. She chuckled to herself, remembering how it took three grown men to hold her down. To their credit, they did not restrain her or lock her in the back seat. When she used up all her energy thrashing and begging them not to make her go home, they talked. The medtech figured out what she had done for food, but the woman’s first reaction was as if someone attacked her. I think her name was Beth. The poor woman was so stunned when Kirsten admitted to doing it willingly for food that she cried. Naturally, such information went into the report. She could not avoid the issue with the psychiatrist later, the one the caseworker brought her to see after she had cleaned up.
The doc said he had done a horrible thing to her. Kirsten, perhaps as a defense mechanism, did not look at it that way. She rationalized it as a trade―a need for a want. She needed food while he wanted a girl. When the doc asked her for details, so the police could find her attacker, she had told him Ritchie already threatened to kill the bastard and probably did by then. When Kirsten explained Ritchie was a ghost, the doc laughed it off. His afro almost went straight when she turned on Darksight for proof and her eyes glowed white .
Division 0 picked her up an hour later. Doctor Smith, or whatever his name had been, never sent any information to them. Zero had no idea what she did, or how little it seemed to bother her. Kirsten, lifting out of the daydream, wondered if there was something wrong with her. An event like that should have damaged her.
Compared to Mother, it was nothing.
She stared at the empty wine glass, looked for a waiter, and thought of Evan. No more. I’ve had enough. The empty glass went back on the table. Memory of that night faded as she thought about his little voice cheering for his favorite wizard. The warmth of him sitting in her lap, the scent of his hair, the way all the sharp bony bits of his body could find all the tender parts of hers made her smile. She sighed at Konstantin, still blabbering on about how the RedEx acquisition would benefit both sides. Fuck these stupid rich bastards. I should be with Evan right now. Frowning into her hands, she leaned forward, hating everything about this place. Konstantin is so stupid rich it’s embarrassing. I don’t belong with him.
Nausea came on without warning, the taste of memory-rations and whatever unrecognizable, overpriced mess was on her plate mixed in her throat. She staggered to her feet and shuffled through the shadows to the restroom. No one seemed to notice her amid the crowd; she almost heard a giant clock ticking, waiting for the hover limo to turn back into a pumpkin.
In spite of the sickening coral-hued décor in the bathroom, the urge to vomit faded the instant the slamming door cut her off from the thousand wealthy people. She wet her hands and wiped her face, dabbing carefully with a microfiber towel to preserve as much of her makeup as she could. The cold water felt wonderful.
“What’s the prick’s name?” The voice sounded female and carried the burden of years of smoking.
Kirsten looked up, seeing nothing in the mirror. To her left, a bleach-blonde who was either in her early forties, or later fifties with a lot of work, leaned against the counter. Purplish-black marks ringed her neck, hashed with the unmistakable imprint of rope. The mink stole around her shoulders stared at her as well, as if on the verge of laughing.
“Sorry?”
“I said, what’s the prick’s name?” The woman took a drag on a cigarette mounted to the end of a long black wand.
Kirsten offered quizzical stare at the device and took a step to the side, coughing. “Is that a cigarette? You must be kind of o―I mean you must’ve died a while ago. I wasn’t dumped; I just don’t fit in here.”
“Ahh, poor girl in Tinseltown.” A modicum of politeness caused the woman to blow smoke out of the side of her mouth. “Where you from, kid? You have an Ohio look about you. Did they just tell you what you had to do to the director to keep the part?”
“I have no idea what you mean. I’m from West City. I am poor though, not sure why Konstantin wants me. He’s got so much money, he could have some biotech firm build him the perfect woman in a vat.” She pouted at herself in the mirror. “Except for that being illegal.”
“Call me Linda, hon.” The woman offered an aristocratic handshake. “Bit late for stage names I suppose. Men like him want one thing, and it ain’t your money, honey.”
“It’s me that’s having doubts. I don’t know if this is a good idea.” She leaned on the counter as a dizzy spell swam through her brain.
“Looks like he slipped you a Mickey or something, dear. Well, don’t you go signing any pre-nup. What you should do is turn the tables on the lout. Give him the ol’ innocent wide blues, get him to skip the paperwork, then walk off with half his money.”
“That’s awful.” Kirsten gawked. “I could never use someone for money.”
“Well, sweetie, I’ll forgive you that. You’re still young. There’s two kinds of people in this world: those who use others and those who get used. Your little Russian sweetie out there didn’t get to where he is being an angel.”
“Konstantin is different!” she snapped, backing off, lowering her voice. “He loves me.”
“Mmmhmm, they all do, Norma Jean, they all do.” She took another long drag. “Right up until they stop.” She tapped the marks on her neck.
Kirsten blinked at the ghost, wondering if she got the name wrong on purpose. “I’m sorry, did he get c
aught? Do you need me to do anything for you?”
“Oh, they got him alright. Jimmy went to death row screaming how it was all my fault, how I drove him to it. His own security cameras got him kicking the chair out from under me”―Linda scowled― “paranoid bastard. Course, cancer got him before the state could do it. At least I had a little fun a few years later driving him crazy.”
“So he fell for the wide blues, huh?” Kirsten smirked.
“ Hmpf.” Linda became bored with the conversation and wandered through the wall.
At the sound of the applause rising outside, Kirsten checked her makeup again and scurried out.
Kirsten knocked on Nila’s door with her forehead, a repetitive tapping in time with a mantra of “I’m a dumbass.” The door snapped open, causing bonk number eight to hit nothing. Nila, wearing a knee-length brown t-shirt that bore the logo of the Manglers Gee-ball team, shook her head.
“You’re back early. Guess you chickened out again?”
“I… It just didn’t feel right.” Kirsten ducked under Nila’s arm and walked inside.
Nila rolled into a cross-armed lean against the wall. “The night couldn’t have been that bad, you’re still wearing shoes.”
Kirsten laughed and covered her mouth at the sight of Evan asleep on the couch. “It was boring as hell. Yanno, it’s so strange. We got back to the limo afterward and he was really letting me have the romantic thing. I just kept thinking about Evan every time he started kissing me.”
Nila let the door close and followed Kirsten to the kitchen. “That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”
“I felt worried, like something bad was happening to him. I know it’s silly. You would have called me, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling.” Kirsten stopped, lifting an eyebrow. “What’s with the look?”
“ It’s probably nothing. Evan zonked on the floor while they were playing some game. He sat up all worried, calling for you. Poor little guy was having a bad dream. He seemed to think you were being eaten by a dragon.”
“Maybe he’s getting too into that Monwyn thing.” She suppressed a giggle. “It’s still a little weird we both had odd feelings.”
“You want coffee?” Nila padded around Kirsten to the counter. “Neither one of you are precognitive, are you? Wait, weren’t you wearing white or silver when you dropped him off?”
“No thanks on the coffee. I’m going to bed as soon as I get home.” Kirsten kicked off the high heels. “Yeah, he bought me this dress on the way there after I said the choker was too tight. I hope it comes off, it was sprayed on.”
“ Now I know something’s wrong, you never turn down coffee.” Chuckling, Nila gathered some of the loose fabric and felt it. “Feels like cloth.”
“Nano-assembled right on me. Felt like a giant cat horked all over me. No, I’m not a precog. They didn’t find any evidence of it in Evan either, but he’s so little who knows. Still, nothing happened to me tonight.” Did he sense my dream? Why would he? It doesn’t bother me much. Kirsten stared at the counter. Am I afraid of sex? Is that why I keep running away from Konstantin?
“Hey,” said Nila, snapping her fingers in front of Kirsten’s eyes. “The way you look, you should just sleep here tonight. Are you sure you should be driving?”
“I’m sober; I had two glasses of wine three hours ago. I’m just tired.” She paused, watching Evan breathe. “Maybe I will. Can I borrow something to sleep in?”
She leaned on the kitchen island, smiling at the back of the couch where Evan slept as Nila jogged off and returned with another oversized shirt. After a brief trip to the bathroom to change, Kirsten crawled onto the couch, lying on her side between Evan and the back. As she put her arm over him, he drifted out of his slumber long enough to smile at her before snuggling into the cushion.
Nila offered them a blanket and cut the lights on her way into the back hallway. Kirsten clung to him like a wolf protecting her cub. Evan stirred, muttering something in his sleep.
She leaned her head forward and breathed into his hair. He squirmed, muttering.
“Pick strawberry.”
alt stung Kirsten’s eyes as she stumbled through the too-bright corridor toward the locker room. The dark blue t-shirt and sweat pants clung to her, soaked through. She had felt worse than this once before, but it had taken leaping from the eleventh story of a building several seconds prior to a massive explosion to get to such a level of misery. This was just a virtual ass-kicking.
She kicked off her sneakers, peeled away her sticky garments, and poured herself into an autoshower tube. Gabriel said the pain was only in her mind and it would go away soon. She wished soon would hurry up and get there.
“Hey,” shouted Nicole, her voice muted by two tubes―the one she was in as well. “How’s the hand-to-hand training going?”
Kirsten looked left; Nicole had hopped into the adjacent shower. Kirsten felt a twinge of embarrassment come on, but kept it in check. Hey. Kicking my ass. I don’t feel like shouting.
Okay, chirped Nicole in her mind. What happened? It’s only ten and you look like you’re ready to pass out.
The cascade of hot water jets coaxed her brain out of simulated reality; pain washed away with her sweat. Started working on sword styles today with Gabriel. I got stabbed six times and lost my right arm twice―virtually.
Ouch. Nicole wiped a bit of fog away to maintain eye contact. Running the thing super-hot flooded it with mist. I just spent the past hour doing boring jogging. Maybe I’ll let Gabriel stab me tomorrow.
Kirsten laughed. He’s married.
Now who’s the minx? Nicole winked. I could use a brush up on hand to hand techniques. She examined her fingernails. Telekinesis makes me lazy sometimes.
After the dry cycle wound down, Kirsten got back into uniform and flopped on the bench, staring at her boots as if attempting to work the quick-cinch closures with her mind. They obligingly fastened themselves. An event that shocked her until she realized Nicole was sitting next to her.
“Geez, you look drained.” Nicole put a hand on her forehead. “Oh, wow, you showered with your bracelet on?”
Kirsten covered the gold snake with a protective hand. “I don’t wanna lose it. Konstantin gave it to me.”
“You’ve practically got little heart-shaped bubbles popping over your head. Wow, you got it bad. You guys get it on yet?” Nicole stuck her legs out. Her boots rose into the air, oriented themselves and slid on her feet. A second later, the fasteners all closed at once.
“Does that ever get boring?”
“No. So when do you think you’ll do the deed? You know, he’s so rich and handsome, he’s probably hung like a mouse.”
Kirsten blushed and squirmed. “I dunno. Maybe when―” Her NetMini rang. She gave Nicole an apologetic look and pulled it out.
“Saved by the bell,” said Nicole, winking, and got up. “Gotta do a ride-along today with Div 1. Psionics are behaving themselves for the time being, so it’s like this tactical exchange thing―oh wow, you wouldn’t believe this chicken place we found.” Nicole fumbled with her NetMini. “Bad part of town, but they raise their own real chickens. Live animals! Can you believe that?”
Kirsten held up a hand. “Hello?”
“Division 1 knows all these little places with the best food.” Nicole kept going.
The face of a middle-aged Hispanic man faded into view in hologram. Kirsten tilted her head at the trace of familiarity in his eyes. She might have recognized him without all the bruises.
“Agent Wren? I’m sorry to call you like this, I know it must be breaking some rule somewhere, but I need to talk to you.”
He’s a little old, I guess you like that though.
Kirsten swatted at Nicole’s shoulder, shooing her away with a grin. Perv. “Have we met?”
“I’m Father Carlos Villera, remember the Five Hundredth Street Sanctuary? The ninja?”
“Oh.” What little color there was in Kirsten’s face faded. “Yeah. What―”
Will you behave yourself? “Did something happen? You look hurt.”
“Some miscreants attacked me a short distance from the building. They did not seem interested in robbing me. They had a strange energy about them, a darkness similar to the little mess you made here.”
She cringed. “Sorry.” Her armband display showed a clean calendar day for the first time in weeks. “I got nothing on my schedule, I’ll stop by as soon as I can get there.”
Nicole stood up. “Wait, you’re going to church?”
“No.” Kirsten scowled. “I’m going to a church to talk to a man about a mugging. I’m not going to church.”
“Even after all the, like demons and… Ooo”―Nicole clung to Kirsten, hiding, staring over her shoulder― “that guy is huge.”
That time, Kirsten looked before her brain caught up. Nicole was talking about the muscle mass of a Division 5 officer. Easily seven feet tall, tattoos intended to make him appear to be a cyborg covered his entire back and arms. Kirsten blushed at her misinterpretation of Nicole’s outburst.
“I gotta go. I suggest you leave this room before you ruin your relationship with Eddie. You really are incorrigible.”
Oh, I’m just looking. Nicole winked. No harm in looking, right?
Careful, Nikki… Some guy complains, you could get sent to mandatory sensitivity training for harassing him.
The big guy glanced in their direction long enough to notice a pair of women in Division 0 uniforms looking at him. All the color ran out of his face and he scooted to the end of the row and used an open locker door to hide his body from them, rushing to cover up.
Nicole found it amusing. Kirsten teased at her bracelet, no longer caring what random people thought of her being psionic.
She had Konstantin.
Dirt and trash whirled about in several miniature cyclones as the patrol craft settled into the parking lot of the Five Hundredth Street Sanctuary. The usual crowd of homeless that often blocked off the front was nowhere in sight. Dorian blurred through the door, appearing just outside the car and spinning in a slow survey of the area.
Division Zero: Thrall Page 11