Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  She had never killed a freak, of course. She had seen them. Disgusting monstrosities in the holding cells of the Purity. They made nightmares pale into daydreams—because they were real.

  ‘Miss Kepple?’

  Chloe’s voice penetrated the door, and penetrated Sapphire’s concerns.

  She never thought of herself as Saffie, or even Miss Kepple. Those two people were merely constructs she used sometimes. Miss Kepple was a stern teacher, while Saffie did not come out much. She existed only for Chris. She was obedient and did nothing without her master’s permission.

  But the real Sapphire was a hard blue crystal. Beautiful and strong.

  ‘Come in, Chloe.’

  The door opened and Chloe looked in. ‘I’m sorry, am I interrupting?’

  Sapphire smiled her icy smile. ‘Of course not, my dear. Come right in, and shut the door. Orange juice?’

  Chloe did as she was told while Sapphire went to the cooler and poured two glasses from the bottle. It was the last of her supplies but it was worth it. Chloe deserved it.

  The girl was standing in the middle of the room, just where Sapphire had been standing and with the same look of indecision on her face. ‘Put your bag down, and you can take your coat off. We have things to talk about. We’ll use the sofa.’

  Once more Chloe did exactly as she had been asked. It was so lovely to have a girl that could follow orders so precisely. It was almost as if Chloe had become Saffie, and Sapphire was Chris—though she would never hurt Chloe. Never. Only the best things for her.

  In a few moments they were seated as before, each with their orange juice in their hands. Sapphire’s knee pressed against Chloe’s. The girl looked pensive, of course; she did not know what was going to happen but she would do as she was told.

  The genuine look of pleasure that passed across her face when she sipped her juice transformed the worry into beauty. Chloe was a delight, and her strength would be such a benefit to the Purity—once Sapphire had honed it into a tool.

  ‘Miss Kepple?’

  The serious face had returned and Sapphire was concerned. She did not want her protégée to be sad or concerned, everything must be perfect.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course, you can ask me anything.’

  ‘There’s an abbreviation I came across, and I don’t know what it means.’

  ‘Did you ask BritNet?’

  ‘I didn’t want to, just in case it was something bad.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘IVF,’ said Chloe. ‘I think it has something to do with babies or pregnancy.’

  Sapphire stood up and took a couple of steps towards the window, though the loss of the touch of Chloe’s knee was like the rending of her heart. She must have said nothing for too long.

  ‘Do you know what it is?’

  ‘It’s a medical term,’ said Sapphire. ‘A complex process. We don’t do it anymore.’

  She heard Chloe getting to her feet behind her.

  ‘So it’s not a bad thing?’

  ‘It was common enough before,’ said Sapphire. ‘How did you hear about it?’

  ‘Melinda Vogler’s mother mentioned it,’ said Chloe. ‘What is it?’

  Sapphire could feel Chloe behind her. All she wanted to do was put her arms around the girl and kiss her, but she had to go slow. If Chloe was unprepared she might lash out—and while Sapphire had known about Chloe’s hobby she had not realised how potent a skill it was until she had fought off her would-be kidnappers. She did not wish to be on the receiving end of such a defence.

  ‘It was a process used to help a couple conceive a child.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘The woman’s ova and the man’s semen were collected and then combined outside of the body. When a successful impregnation occured the viable embryo was returned to the mother’s body. I understand it was a very long and uncertain process, and quite stressful for the mother.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Does that answer your question?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sapphire sighed to herself. The moment had passed. In all these things there was always the ideal time when she could touch without her partner becoming upset. Especially if there was a moment of vulnerability, but that time had gone and they had moved on. Where had this IVF nonsense come from?

  She turned to face Chloe, only to discover there were tears falling from her eyes. Chloe turned her head away to hide her face and tried to wipe away the tears with her bandaged wrist.

  ‘Oh my child, whatever is the matter?’ She was concerned, of course, but the vulnerability she hoped for had arrived so unexpectedly. ‘Are you crying for your friend?’

  Chloe sniffed. Sapphire relieved her of the glass and fetched a handkerchief from her desk. ‘Here,’ she said and reached out gently to touch Chloe’s cheek. She felt her warm smooth skin and gently pressed to make her turn her face towards her. With her other hand she dabbed the tears from Chloe’s eyes.

  The perfect opportunity had arrived. It was now or never.

  Sapphire took a step forward so that there was barely an inch between them. Before Chloe could react Sapphire wrapped her arms around the girl. She felt her body tense up. ‘Just cry on my shoulder, Chloe.’

  Perfect.

  The girl relaxed immediately and allowed herself to be drawn in close. Sapphire closed her eyes. She breathed in deep through her nose bringing the wonderful scent of the girl to her. It had been so long.

  And Chloe really was crying. It was beautiful how she cared so much for her friend. ‘Let it all out, Chloe.’ The girl’s body sobbed within Sapphire’s arms as she placed her hands flat on the girl’s body. She could feel the roughness of the jumper on the outside. The rigid bump of her bra strap.

  Sapphire reached further. Pressed a little harder. Ribs, the curving shape of her back, her spine. Moving boldly so as not to give the impression she was simply feeling the girl’s body but truly offering consolation, Sapphire moved her hand up the girl’s spine.

  And found two bumps. She frowned. Had she stretched too far? Was she touching the shoulder blades? No.

  Two hard bumps a couple of inches apart. A kink in the girl’s underwear?

  Sapphire squeezed.

  Chloe jerked away with a squeal of pain through the tears. ‘What are you doing?’

  Sapphire stared at her without seeing. Two lumps, hard but covered in skin. The thought tried to beat its way into Sapphire’s consciousness. Lumps where there should be perfection.

  Something curdled in Sapphire’s stomach. She did not even try to hold it back. Her dinner mixed with a little orange juice returned to the outside world.

  ‘Miss Kepple!’ Chloe sounded terrified. ‘Are you all right?’

  Another spasm dumped more of her insides on to the carpet. Through an acid-raw throat she managed to speak. ‘Get out!’

  Although unable to concentrate on it, Sapphire was half-aware of Chloe gathering up her coat and bag, fumbling with the door handle and flying from the room.

  The stench of the vomit filled the room. She retched again, but her body was just going through the motions as there was nothing left to come up. She retched again one final time.

  Exhausted she sat back in the hard chair and stared at the wall. With the handkerchief she had used to wipe Chloe’s tears she cleaned round her mouth, wiping away the lipstick in a bloody red smear.

  Lumps.

  Lumps in Chloe’s back.

  Chloe was a freak. Sapphire felt as if her heart was breaking. She almost reached for her phone. She needed to tell her seniors; she needed to call Chris. He would thank her and maybe love her again.

  But she didn’t want Chris. She wanted Chloe.

  Don’t be silly, she told herself, Chloe is just your perversion. There is nothing there that is true.

  But she did not find herself very convincing.

  She needed to think. She needed to understand. She did not need to t
ell anybody anything. This fact alone would put Chloe truly in her power; Sapphire could protect her. She would keep the Purity from her and everything would be all right.

  She had probably just imagined it anyway. There was nothing that needed to be done.

  Except clean up the mess, and get herself home.

  Tomorrow she would know what to do.

  Chapter 24

  Chloe

  Chloe had not slept well. She had spent the whole of the previous evening in her room, and for part of it she had simply cried. Her encounter with Miss Kepple had left her confused.

  The teacher making a pass at her was not the upsetting part. The fact Miss Kepple was into girls was talked about in hushed tones in corners, or laughed about at parties. It was also considered to be odd because lesbianism—everybody knew what it was called—was not considered acceptable to the Purity.

  As far as anybody knew, despite all the talk, she had never gone beyond looking, and perhaps a touch that went on a little too long. What had happened with Chloe was unheard of. It suggested the teacher really liked her, in that way. Which if viewed from a certain light was almost flattering but, on the other hand, a bit difficult since Chloe didn’t feel the same.

  And, Chloe had to admit, she really hadn’t minded when her teacher gave her a hug because she really needed it at that point. Even if Miss Kepple did have wandering hands. But it was the wandering of those hands that had really bothered her. Because Chloe had felt what her teacher had felt: the lumps on her back.

  And then Miss Kepple had thrown up. Now that was a harsh judgement. She had thrown up and screamed at Chloe to get out. Which was why Chloe spent the first two hours in her room lying on her bed and sobbing into her pillow. Then Ashley and Kavi had buzzed her.

  Chloe had cleaned herself up as best she could and taken the call. Of course they wanted to know why she had taken so long in answering, and then they wanted to know why she had been crying because there was no point in denying it; she looked terrible.

  Chloe wasn’t sure why but she didn’t usually like to share her personal pain with her friends, although she was always willing to listen to theirs, but this time she told them what her teacher had done, how she had behaved. Ashley had laughed of course, while Kavi had been sympathetic and horrified.

  It finally dawned on Ashley that Chloe was genuinely upset—a difficult concept for someone who was always lying about the way she felt.

  And, of course, they had asked her how she had escaped from the teacher’s evil clutches. So having got that far, Chloe told them the rest, except she didn’t mention the lumps. It would scare them. It scared her.

  Ashley asked if she wanted to come round and spend the night. How it would be good for them all to have a sleepover again. Chloe managed to stop her by using the reporters still camped out on her doorstep as an excuse. There were even fewer now, but still some waiting for a story they could actually use, preferably an exclusive. Like a teacher lusting after a student, or a student with lumps in her back.

  Her friends had been online for about an hour when Chloe told them she wanted to grab something to eat and then get some sleep. Ashley made some smart-arse comment about Chloe being hungry all the time, and that cut even deeper into Chloe’s confidence.

  She was glad theyhad called but relieved when it was over.

  She dozed fitfully. The lumps between her shoulder blades terrified her. And lying face down or on her side, she found her mind filled with random thoughts. She woke with the suddenness of a thunderclap.

  Her mum and dad were talking downstairs, the words were indistinct noises until she tuned in and then she could hear them as if she were standing with them. But there was nothing of consequence: Dad’s day at work; Mum’s day in the home; and the price of food.

  Chloe wanted to scream at them. She wanted to demand to know why they weren’t talking about her. Wasn’t she the most important thing in the family right now? Wasn’t she the one suffering? She had been attacked!

  Couldn’t they see why she had been released? Didn’t they know that Special Agent Graham was just waiting for the kidnappers to strike again? Why weren’t they talking about that? Why didn’t they care?

  And when she finally did get to sleep properly she dreamt she was falling endlessly—falling but never hitting the ground.

  When she woke again, Chloe was starving. She had been hungry the night before, but hadn’t eaten. Now she was ravenous.

  She headed downstairs and dug out everything she could find in the fridge that she could cook and eat. While two slices of bread were toasting she ate a third with a spoonful of cold baked beans—then poured the rest of them in the saucepan to heat up. She looked at the carton of eggs and, barely giving it a thought, broke two raw eggs into a glass and gulped them down. Then crunched through the shells.

  In the back of her mind she had the idea that perhaps she was behaving strangely, but she needed to eat and that thought overwhelmed everything. By the time she had finished off most of the loaf, the other four eggs from the carton, the baked beans and bacon, and eating it between two more slices, her mother came in.

  ‘Aw, sweetheart, you didn’t have to make breakfast.’

  Chloe stood up and washed down the final part of the bacon sandwich with the last of the milk. ‘Sorry, didn’t. Very hungry. Got to do homework.’

  And with that she pushed past her mother and bounced up the stairs four steps at a time. A moment later she shut the door and locked it.

  Chloe couldn’t remember ever hearing her mother swear in her presence. But with her every sense sharp, she heard her mother in the kitchen moving around opening the fridge, looking at the mess that Chloe had made. Accompanied by a string of profanities, some of which Chloe didn’t even know. But she didn’t call Chloe down, instead talking to herself she said that Chloe was still recovering from the attack, and justified every action as the product of stress.

  Chloe threw herself on the bed and dozed for a while longer, not exactly sleeping but digesting. New energy infused her muscles. She hadn’t realised quite how exhausted she had become.

  It was a knock at the front door that brought her back to full consciousness. She glanced at the clock. It was only nine-thirty. She heard her mother going to the door, and her father in the kitchen saying something about the rudeness of people calling so early. Outside, Chloe heard the drones come to life and the slight increase in chatter from the reporters, although she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Dark.’

  Chloe sat up on the edge of the bed rigid. It was Miss Kepple. What the hell was she doing here? Oh God, was she going to blame Chloe for what had happened yesterday?

  ‘Oh, Miss Kepple, isn’t it?’ said her mother.

  ‘Do you mind if I come in? The reporters...’

  Chloe heard the clicking of her heels as she stepped inside, before Chloe’s mother had even given her permission. How like her.

  ‘Yes, of course. Can I take your coat?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, Mrs Dark. Is your husband here?’

  ‘Who is it, Amanda?’ Her father called from the kitchen.

  ‘It’s Chloe’s Purity teacher, Miss Kepple.’

  Even though it was certain that her mum and teacher couldn’t hear it, Chloe was well aware of what her father said under his breath.

  ‘And Chloe?’ said Miss Kepple.

  ‘She’s upstairs, in her room. Do you want me to fetch her?’

  ‘No,’ Miss Kepple’s denial was quick and urgent, as if whatever it was she wanted to say was most certainly not for Chloe’s ears.

  ‘Well, I couldn’t stop listening even if I wanted to,’ said Chloe to herself.

  Once they were all in the kitchen and had exchanged pleasantries, her mother asked. ‘This is about Chloe?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course it is,’ said Miss Kepple, she seemed hesitant. Chloe wrapped her arms around herself; Kepple was going to tell them what happened yesterday. Why
would she do that?

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Kepple again. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not entirely sure how to tell you this.’

  ‘What?’ said her father, the tone of his voice was a dangerous growl. Chloe had never heard him like this before. ‘You want to tell us something about Chloe, and you don’t quite know how to say it?’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Miss Kepple. She had spoken very carefully as if she were now uncertain as to whether he already knew.

  But knew what?

  She heard the chair in the kitchen scraped back. ‘You’re here to tell us that Chloe is a freak as well?’ said her father.

  There was a long pause. Chloe frowned. Why would he say such a thing? As well?

  Ali? She had heard what had happened but so much else was going on she really hadn’t had time to process it. She frowned. No, the truth was she had forgotten about him.

  He must have seen the lumps in her back during the ultrasound, and not turned her in to the Purity, and he didn’t tell her either, but he went to her parents—he died near Debenhams on the night she was attacked. Chloe got to her feet. She wanted to run but she couldn’t move. Where could she go?

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Kepple. ‘Yes, that’s what I was going to tell you. But you already know.’

  And then her father exploded. His anger was like an elemental force. He was deafening as he roared at Miss Kepple to get out and to shut up; and how dare she come into his house to accuse his daughter of being a freak.

  There was a lot of noise with chairs falling over; doors opening and closing; somebody bumping into something else, maybe the table; crockery falling and smashing; high-heels retreating down the hall; scrabbling at door locks; and her father screaming ‘how dare you’ before slamming the door on her.

  The drones whined in the background. Chloe sat down again.

  Her father was wrong, of course. Despite his treatment of her during the week, he was wrong. He might be convinced she wasn’t a freak, but even Miss Kepple had felt the lumps on her back. And Chloe could see them in the mirror now. She was a fraction of her expected weight. Then she laughed at herself bitterly: not forgetting the fact she could hear things no normal person could possibly hear. The screaming in the ultrasound machine had been because she could hear sounds beyond the normal range of human hearing.