“then i will do what will keep james happy.”
“Even if it means going against your own kind?”
“i have no kind.”
“Other outsiders, I mean.”
“i have no kind.”
Godiva considered that. “Are you saying that you're unique. Sui generis?”
“yes.”
Godiva leaned forward, looking up at my face. “Did you,” she spoke slowly, considering each word, “Catskinner, did you . . . exist prior to James?”
“no.”
She leaned back. “Huh. Now that's interesting.”
She pulled out a napkin wrapped bundle from her shopping bag. The rest of the pizza. I hadn't seen her grab it.
As I looked at her I realized that what she had in that little bag was all she had in the world. I knew what that felt like. She was sitting there with a brave little grin and my heart went out to her.
“We'll go shopping tomorrow,” I promised her. “Get you some more clothes.”
She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. “Yeah, this is kind of blah.”
Then, in case she was waiting for me to say something, I said, “Go on, I won't watch.”
I turned away to the little kitchenette. There were fresh glasses wrapped in plastic. I unwrapped two, filled them with cold water. I could hear her behind me, eating. I sipped water.
Along with my sympathy for her there grew an anger—no, a rage—that was as old to me as life. Someone made her into something rich and strange, something that I didn't understand and I wasn't sure that she understood. That same person left her at the mercy of a world that I knew from bitter experience was merciless.
“Do you want me to kill Dr. Klein?” I asked. It just popped out.
She didn't say anything, so I turned around, slowly. “I can still find her, probably.”
She looked over at me, seriously. Our eyes, or rather my eyes and her sunglasses, met for a long moment and she said, “No. It doesn't matter.”
I wanted to help her, wanted to make her feel better. Was that all I had to offer, death? Again that rage, at those who had made me a monster.
“I just—” I shrugged. “I just don't know what to do.” I turned away. I had nothing to offer Godiva except a place to rest. She'd said it herself, the dragon doesn't rescue the princess.
“James?” her voice was soft. I looked back at her.
“I'm sorry.”
“Sorry?” I stared at her, wondering, “Sorry for what?”
“I'm weak,” she looked down, seeming to curl into herself. “I can't do, I can't be . . . what you are.”
Tears waited heavy behind my eyes. “Being what I am,” I said softly, “isn't a good thing.”
“You saved me,” her voice was breathless, high, full of emotion.
“Only by accident,” I told her. “I was trying to save myself. You just got in the way. Collateral damage.”
She stood then, barefoot and unarmored, clad in a thin gray T-shirt that clung to her curves and a denim skirt and her hips slid towards me with each step and it was my turn to flinch, to run from what I wanted and what she was and her eyes behind mirrored lenses pinned me, saw me for what I was and I turned away.
“Wait,” she said and I stopped. I was helpless. Catskinner could have killed her in a heartbeat, and for a moment I envied his purity. In contrast, I was a mess. I couldn't do anything except watch as she came closer to me.
“What do you want?” I snapped at her.
“I just want to make you happy.” Her smile was bright and innocent and pure. Nothing that had anything to do with me.
“Why?” I asked. Before she could speak Catskinner answered me.
because she wants something from you. because she wants to use you.
I couldn't know that he was wrong and so I turned away again. I didn't look at her when she answered me.
“I want a world where everyone is happy. I want to live without fear that someone stronger than me will take what I have. I can't give everyone what they need—”
Her small, slim body pressed against mine. Her face was against my side, her voice muffled, but I could hear every word.
“I can give you what you need. Right now. Tonight.”
Hating myself was a habit. It scarcely even hurt anymore, it was more like scratching an itch, peeling away a scab on infected flesh. “And what do you need?”
A pause. She pulled back, looked up at my face. “Do you want the truth?”
“Yes.”
She pulled her sunglasses off. Her strange eyes, green in green, looked up at me. I met her gaze. I could learn to read the story in those eyes, given time.
“I need you,” she breathed. Coy and tempting, the voice of all that I had never had, all the women that I had never loved, and my hands moved of their own accord, not Catskinner, but me, my own hunger, up into her hair to grasp and claim and turn her face to mine and I pressed my mouth to hers and I felt the fear then, the fear of the monster within me, and her hands, so small, so soft upon mine, telling me without words that she was not afraid—
And I kissed her. Her mouth tasted like spiced rum, sugar and cinnamon and something more exotic, intoxicating. Her lips opened and her tongue brushed mine.
It was all that I have ever wanted, her body against mine, her breasts, full and loose beneath her shirt against my chest lower than I had imagined it, my hands wanting and so afraid to touch her there, her hands against mine, guiding me, taking control, and it was too much, all too much, too soon, too late, and maybe I was crying, I don't remember.
It was too big, too much, me wanting her, her offering herself to me, and somehow she knew that. Without moving away from me she let me go, let me turn away from her and into myself and her body against mine became comfortable instead of insistent. She kissed me again, and it was different, simple human warmth, still so strange to me, but not frightening, not frightening at all.
Against the skin of my neck she whispered, “I understand.”
I was glad that someone did.
She held me that night, lay against me in that rented bed, asking for nothing from me but the touch of my body. She was soft and warm and alive and she occupied the space next to my skin, a place that no one had ever been in before, and something that has always been empty in me was filled.
I slept, and she slept, and Catskinner never spoke, never moved. Not that night.
Chapter Eleven
“spiderwebs are not built for comfort.”
In the morning we walked together from the room to the hotel restaurant, where Alice was waiting for us, coffee steaming in her cup. She watched us walk in together, Godiva close by my side.
When Alice looked up at me—at us—I felt another emptiness that I had not realized was there being filled. I could see her seeing not just one person and one person, but two people. A couple. A pair of monsters, perhaps, but a pair. The feeling made me put my arm around Godiva's shoulders and some feeling—perhaps the same one—made Godiva lean into me, mold herself against me. Together we took seats at the table.
Alice smiled and nodded, just as Godiva and I were the most natural things in the world, and then a young waiter came by and wrote down what we wanted to eat, which in my case was nearly everything.
Busy last night? I asked Catskinner.
watching and waiting.
Once I'd ordered I couldn't think of anything to say. Catskinner could, though.
“what happens now?”
Alice seemed able to switch gears between talking to me and talking to Catskinner without a hitch. Even Victor hadn't caught on that quick.
“Since you've let Morgan know that you're not useful to him, he'll consider you a threat.” Alice glanced over at Godiva. “He might still try to recruit you, though.” Her voice was carefully neutral.
“Recruit me as what?” Godiva asked bitterly. “The same thing I was doing for Dr. Klein? I'm out of that line of work.”
Catskinner was still in the driver's se
at, and I didn't interfere. I wanted to know what he was thinking, too.
“what can be done to dissuade morgan?”
Alice cocked her head to the side. “Dissuade? I didn't expect euphemisms from you.”
“you want him dead.”
Alice met Catskinner's gaze in my eyes. “Yes.”
“you want me to do it.”
“Yes.”
“how do you benefit from his death?”
“He considers me a threat as well.”
“why haven't you killed him?”
“I can't. I'm not good at killing.”
“i am.”
“Yes.”
“you need me.”
“We can be useful to each other.”
And Catskinner sunk back down into me, became a warm alert presence across my back. It felt kind of like being pulled up on stage to follow the opening act.
Godiva wasn't touching me any more. Both she and Alice were looking at me, and I still couldn't think of anything to say.
“Okay,” I tried. “So that's that.”
Godiva reached across and took my hand. She started to speak, but then the waiter showed up with a lot of food. We leaned back and let him cover the table with plates. It all smelled good.
After the waiter left Godiva squeezed my hand. “You're more than a just a killer,” she said softly, then turned to Alice. “He is. He's not just Catskinner's driver, you know.”
Alice nodded. “And you're more than Dr. Klein's whore.”
Godiva looked down. Alice reached out and took her free hand. “We can do some good.”
Godiva looked up, met Alice's eye. Alice reached out and took my other hand. Now we were sitting around the table holding hands, like someone was about to start praying. Alice looked me in the eye. “All of us.”
And my bacon was getting cold. I retrieved both of my hands. I never went to summer camp, never learned to sing Kumbaya, and I was hungry.
I forked in some bacon and followed it with pancakes, then coffee. It felt good.
“Who's using euphemisms now?” I asked Alice once my throat was clear. “Is 'doing some good' the new code phrase for murder?”
“No.” Alice said. She reached for my hand again and I dodged her, speared some more bacon. “I meant what I said, “she continued. “I think we can do some good.”
Philosophy took a backseat to protein. Then, “Good for who?”
“For whom,” Godiva corrected. I glanced over at her, and she ducked her head, embarrassed, and drank her orange juice.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Good for whom?”
“For us, to begin with,” Alice said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Us, meaning...?”
“You. Catskinner. Me. Godiva.”
“And that's to begin with?”
“Who else do you care about?”
Good question.
“Okay, we can skip that part.”
“Okay,” Godiva spoke up. “So we kill him. How?”
Alice looked over at her. Godiva continued. “I mean, I assume the frontal approach is out? It's not like James is going to walk up to him and say, 'Hello, you killed my father, prepare to die.'”
“Actually,” I pointed out, “I killed my father.”
Godiva stared at me. “Uh. The point is, that we have to have a plan.”
“Agreed. We can't take him at the Good Earth. God knows what else he's got there.” I looked to Alice. “Where does he live?”
“At the Good Earth.”
“So much for getting him on his commute. Where else does he go?”
Alice sighed. “Nowhere.”
“Everybody goes someplace,” I argued. “He told me he runs this trade network. He's got to go meet people, do business.”
“Everybody comes to him. From what I can see, he hasn't left the Good Earth for years.”
“That is going to be a problem.” I went back to my pancakes.
“We have to draw him out,” Godiva said.
Alice nodded. “Somehow.”
“We attack something that he has to defend. Something that he can't stand to lose.”
Alice nodded, thoughtful.
“Sun Tzu,” Godiva explained. “The Art of War.”
Alice and I had finished eating. Alice asked for the check and Godiva asked for a box to take her breakfast with her.
“I'm going back to my place,” Alice said. “I have my notes there. I can figure out what will draw him out. Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes,” said Godiva at the same time I said, “No.”
Godiva frowned at me. “We'll catch up,” I told Alice. “We need to do some shopping first.” It felt strange to say, “we”. Strange but good.
Godiva smiled. “Yeah, we can come over later.” It felt good to hear her say it, too.
There was a Mega-Super-Ultra Store a few miles down the road, one of those big boxes that sells everything from toothpaste to lawnmowers to computers. Godiva ate in the van on the way. Once we got there I grabbed a cart and went through the grocery section while Godiva went to buy new clothes.
While I was shopping I wondered about Godiva. She seemed able to eat ordinary food, she just needed to take her teeth out to do it. I wasn't sure how that worked—I'd avoided watching because it seemed to embarrass her. Would soft foods help? I wasn't going to go as far as getting baby food, but maybe she'd like pudding. Or salsa. Or—
I didn't have any idea how to shop for another human being, much less another person who wasn't entirely human. I filled my cart with stuff that I liked, plus some pudding. Maybe I should get a blender—they sold them, too. I decided not to make any assumptions—she could tell me what she needed.
Godiva met me at the checkout line. She didn't want to let me buy her clothes, but I insisted. She might need the cash she had for an emergency. Her life seemed to be composed mostly of emergencies the last few days.
The clothes she'd selected weren't expensive, a couple of T-shirts, a blouse, a few skirts, and tennis shoes.
We went by the motel first. I'd planned just to stop long enough to put the food away, but Godiva wanted to change clothes, and that meant she wanted to take a shower first.
“I'll be really quick,” she promised, her green on green eyes peeking over the top of her sunglasses. How could I refuse? I messed around on-line for a while, watched some videos of cute cats.
And listened to the sound of water running in the shower. After what actually qualified as “really quick” the water shut off and I listened to a body moving around in the bathroom, toweling off, and then, “James?”
“Yes?” Yes.
“Could you hand me my clothes, please?”
I hadn't planned on opening the door any wider than needed to pass her the bag from the box store—or maybe I did, I'm not sure. But the door opened wide and she didn't stop it, and there I was holding the bag, and there she was, damp from the shower, toweling her head, naked.
Her body was lovely, and I couldn't look away. Tanned to a rich gold, smooth, voluptuous. Her hair, damp, was a darker gold. Her breasts were as full and ripe as any pin-up model, the waist below tight and slim. I knew I was staring, couldn't help myself. Her body captivated me. Her legs were muscular, curved and smooth. Between them—
Between her legs was a penis and testicles, lightly furred with golden hair.
My experiences with pin-up girls had not prepared me for that.
I was still staring, and I suppose my expression changed. Godiva's body language changed, from coquettish to alarmed. I looked back to her face, met her deep green eyes.
“Uh,” I said. I handed her the bag.
“You didn't know,” she said softly. She? Yes, she. It's what she wanted to be called.
“No.”
“I thought Catskinner . . .”
Did he? In broad outline, I guess he did. “He's not real clear on details.”
She wrapped the towel around herself. “I assumed you knew. Last night, I wouldn't have�
�”
“It's okay,” I said. “I mean, it's okay. It, uh, looks good on you.” Wow, that was awkward.
I turned away. I felt rather than saw her withdraw into herself, huddling in the towel. I couldn't leave it like that. Catskinner's the monster; I'm just along for the ride.
“Wait,” I turned back to her. She looked up at me, wrapped in a towel, hair still damp, without her glasses or her teeth. She wasn't human. I had been making her human in my head, I realized, trying to keep her in a category that she didn't fit any more. Whatever had been done to her placed her outside the Earth, beyond the realm of the terrestrial. Just like me.
I took her in my arms, felt her warm body against mine. She held herself stiffly for a moment, then relaxed against me. Her eyes, green on green, grew liquid, and I realized that whatever she had become, she still could cry.
“It's okay,” I said, not sure what I meant, but knowing that I meant it. Whatever it was, if it wasn't okay, well, then Catskinner and I would make it okay. Provided that it was something that could be made okay by violence. In my experience, most things could, but I'd be having some new experiences lately. Maybe a new approach was called for.
I kissed Godiva on her forehead, just above her strange eyes, and she smiled at me.
“We should get going,” she said softly, and in no more than ten minutes we were. Godiva was dressed in her new clothes, teeth in, glasses on, and she was beautiful.
Alice Mason's base of operations turned out to be a four-family flat in Maplewood just off the highway. The ride there was surprisingly non-awkward. Godiva turned on the radio and sang softly along.
There was an asphalt parking lot behind the building with an ancient pickup truck partially covered by a tarp in the corner and big blue sedan next to it. I parked in the opposite corner, facing out. Just in case I needed to leave in a hurry.
Alice Mason's address ended in 1E, so I knocked on the first floor door on the east side. She answered in jeans and a T-shirt, which made her look younger and less intimidating than her suit.
She smiled to see us, which made me think that she wasn't sure we were coming. “Please, come in,” she said.
She knew all about doing the guests coming over thing, got me some soda and Godiva some tomato juice (with a straw). Her office was big and full of stuff—books and papers and computers—but it looked organized. I still wasn't exactly sure what she did, but she seemed to be pretty good at it. She had some comfortable chairs and I sat down, drank some soda, and all at once I realized that I didn't have the slightest idea what to say.
Catskinner's Book (The Book Of Lost Doors) Page 9