“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Bernard seemed to tell from the look on her face that she knew exactly what he was referring to. “That’s OK,” he said, nodding like he understood perfectly. “You should be loyal to your master. That’s important. Your secrets are your own. But would you mind if an old man gave you the smallest piece of advice?”
She nodded.
“Don’t let him keep all that fun for himself. I can tell that you have potential and it shouldn’t be wasted. There is one problem though,” he said, pointing at her like she had a stain on her shirt. “There’s one thing that’s going to get in your way.” He tilted his head and squinted like he was trying to see her from the perfect angle. “I can see it right now,” he told her.
Ann Marie reluctantly took the old man’s ploy, asking, “What do you mean?”
“Call it the keen eye of a man with many decades of experience with the human race. People have an aura about them if you look hard enough. Yours tells me,” he went on, “that there is something you are concealing from yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know of anything like that.”
“Well, of course you wouldn’t,” Bernard corrected her. “It’s precisely the fact that you can’t see it that makes it such a problem for you.”
“That sounds a little whacky.”
He adjusted his posture so that he became much more imposing. “Don’t worry, m’dear,” he told her. “It will reveal itself whether you fancy it or not.” He raised his hat to her before addressing his DeathStalker companion. “Old friend,” he called it, “take a walk on the beach with me. We’ll leave Ann Marie to her thoughts.”
...
That night, Ivy Cavatica awoke to pain on the heel of her right foot. Somehow she was outside her condo. As her eyes opened, she heard the slow, soft clapping of her own bare feet on the concrete. She had cut her right foot on something in the street and was now leaving a heel section of bloody footprint behind her. Ivy tried to make her feet stop but she wasn’t awake enough to do it. Her legs appeared to be in charge and they were taking her somewhere.
She lived in one of the nicer gated communities in southern Los Angeles. It was a virtual fortress with ten foot walls and twenty-four-hour armed guards to keep out the rest of the city. After reaching the edge of her tree-lined, suburban-looking street and making a right at the community gazebo, she reached the guard booth of the insulated community.
Right away, the guard noticed that she looked strange. Besides being barefoot, she was barely dressed, wearing the worn grey cotton shorts and white tank top that she had fallen asleep in. The guard said hello but Ivy didn’t seem to notice. She continued toward the main gate and stopped inches from the bars of the fence when it didn’t open.
“Please. Open,” she mumbled nearly incomprehensibly to the guard. Her eyelids kept a slight and tenuous opening like she was in and out of a deep sleep.
“You OK, Miss Cavatica?” The guard asked, stepping out of the small office where he spent his shift. He looked her over, saying, “You sleepwalking or something?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m just out for a stroll.”
“You don’t want to go out there, especially at this time of night,” said the guard, who seemed very confused. “It’s much safer to stay inside the community. Maybe I can call someone to take over here and I’ll walk you back to your condo. I can’t let you go out there like this.”
Ivy stared at him with a black void of a zombie. Yet, somehow her expression also contained a kind of supreme authority. Without a word, her hand slipped past the guard and onto the switch that opened the gate. Ignoring the plea of the guard, Ivy slipped through to the outside world.
The aura of life, the smell of the trees and the sounds of the insects, immediately faded into a mechanical hum of street noises and industrial odors. She still had no control over her feet and they slid themselves forward over the pavement. As Ivy left her fashionable gated oasis behind her, the blight in the city of Los Angeles shined like the eery glow at the bottom of a nuclear reactor.
She was experiencing a kind of sleep disturbance. Her body was paralyzed from taking any of her commands. It was being led somewhere by some sort of invisible beacon. The farther she got from her condo and the darker the cityscape got, the faster and more determined her feet seemed to move.
She couldn’t remember what she was doing out that night and couldn’t tell herself to stop.
Cars passed her by, with some honking and a few men yelling at her out the window. The whistles and catcalls didn’t register to her and when one passing motorist threw a beer bottle that exploded just a few feet away, she didn’t even flinch. Her feet continued to slide past one another until she reached a section of Los Angeles that could have only been defined by its emptiness. Abandoned storefronts and empty factories lined both sides of the street. Even the homeless had evacuated that section of city.
Ivy still couldn’t wake herself up. Her feet continued to drag her forward into the unknown.
She saw pink neon light ahead. The light was just peeking over some of the broken down buildings. As she got closer, she started to hear voices and laughter. It sounded like a party that had gotten completely out of hand. Motorcycle engines revved and, in the distance, men yelled in a belligerent argument. The pink light was getting brighter as she got closer to whatever it was.
“GirlFixer” beamed in pink neon. “The Gentleman’s Ultimate Experience,” flashed in smaller pink fluorescent lettering just below. The parking lot, which consumed all the parking lots of the former neighboring businesses, was nearly full with cars and tailgaters. With its roof starting to fall in and most of the windows smashed with rocks over the years, the building itself looked like it should have been condemned. It had been a diaper factory twenty years prior. Before it had become GirlFixer, it had been a place for squatters.
Ivy’s right foot was still bleeding and leaving a small heel print behind her. For the first time since she had started her bizarre sleepwalking, her feet started to change direction on her. Her eyelids started to feel even heavier as though her mind was trying desperately to shut itself off.
She walked toward the entrance of GirlFixer. The fluorescent pink glow became so bright that it began to feel like daylight. Soft, thumping bass touched her on the face. She closed her eyes as she walked to the entrance.
Her sleepwear had stains from the beer that had been thrown at her by the passing driver. The white tank top she wore clung awkwardly to her body, somehow making her look even more vulnerable. Her skin looked deathly white, as though peeled from the work of an eighteenth century mortician. Ivy took on an odd glow in the mixture of moonlight and pink neon.
The group of men at the entrance, a gang of trucker-looking types, took notice but something about Ivy kept them at bay. A few leered at first but their expressions quickly turned cold when she got close. No one seemed to be charging any money to get inside, so Ivy sleepwalked right through the pitch-black entryway.
Part of her woke up when she bumped into an obese man who had his back turned to her. He had been staring at one of the strippers, who was listening to her headphones and knitting some kind of hat.
Ivy sat down in the darkest corner of the bar next to a group of two rather plain-looking women about her age. Between them sat a small boy with a face covered in complex tattoos, like mixtures of ancient texts and hieroglyphics. He was wearing a black robe that looked to have been cut from the finest Chinese silk. The two women whispered things into his ears with him nodding occasionally. All three seemed interested in Ivy but they kept away.
Ivy’s eyes became very heavy and she drifted off again. The group got up and the two women followed the tattooed boy out of the back of the club and into a door marked, owner.
Ivy was slumped over in her seat when she heard a man say, “This place is so chic.”
She tried to mumble hello back but the eff
ort was exhausting.
“It’s fine, m’dear,” said Bernard Mengel, who dipped his fancy hat to her. “I’m sorry to just appear out of the blue like this but, you see, we know each other.”
“We do?”
On the floor in front of them stood the DeathStalker. It was staring at Bernard. He became annoyed at the very sight of it. “You infernal machine,” he jabbed. “You stop me from enjoying life. I hate you.” He tried to toss his overcoat on top of it, but the robot easily slid out of the way.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy said. She struggled to keep her eyes open. “I seem to be having some trouble.”
“I can see that,” said Bernard. He gently passed her a cold, bubbly drink while cupping it under napkin in his palm. “I have just the thing.” He guided her hands to her lips to help her drink.
She found herself nearly inhaling the strange concoction. She then pressed her mouth to rim of the glass and licked at the insides. Bitter bits of what could have been tree bark dug into her lips and tongue. She aggressively lapped up the bitter, salty crystals at the very bottom of the glass and slapped it down on the table. The aftertaste reminded her of blood.
“I’m still thinking of a name for that drink,” Bernard smiled to her. “Wait,” he said as he plucked at the air like a harp string, “I’ve got it. The GirlFixer.”
Ivy’s eyes stood wide open and every muscle in her face was suddenly primed. Cold, pleasant emptiness began as a tingle on the tips of her toes. As it swept up her feet and up her legs, she felt pressure everywhere, as though accelerating on a rocket to the moon.
She finally got a good look at him and she said, “It’s you.” All the messages to her muscles were blocked and she just sat there and glared at him in only a momentary fury. Then all the distress and anger seemed to disappear from her face and she looked almost drunk.
“I think we’re almost there,” Bernard told her. “I think you’ll be feeling a bit spunkier after that little cocktail of mine.” Then he slid his wispy, skin and bones, frame across the seat until he was cozied up to her like they were lovers. “I love this natural, fresh-out-of-bed look for you, m’dear,” he said. His long, twig-like fingers started to play with her hair. His nostrils sucked in the air around her and he savored it like a drag from a cigarette. “Same little girl. Same little Ivy.”
His hand cradled the back of her head and he brought his face close to hers. It looked as though he was about to kiss her. He closed his eyes and rubbed her temples. “I’m gonna help you see,” he told her. “Just let yourself go. Let my power inside you.”
Now she looked like a person asleep with her eyes propped open. “It’s you,” she said. “I saw you at my speech. I always knew you would come back.”
“I always do,” Bernard said. He slid his hand between her ass and the vinyl chair cover. With just the effort of his fingers, he lifted her into he air and she landed on her feet. “Sweet Ivy. My special girl. Why don’t you saunter on home now, my special girl.” He gestured her away like a king to a jester. “I would give you a ride but I’m in the mood for some lap dances.”
Ivy just stared at him blankly.
“Listen my dear,” he said. “You head on down the lane and back to your little condo. I don’t think I need to worry much about your safety,” he told her with an overwrought wink. “I don’t think I have to worry about anyone hurting my baby. I think you’ll find yourself quite capable. Now you get out of here.”
He stared at her and her feet started to walk her body out of the room. By the time she made it to the door of GirlFixer, her eyes were closed and she was sleepwalking home.
...
During a meeting with the Asylum Corporation board of directors the following afternoon, Dade was introduced to the company’s newest vice president, Miss Ivy Cavatica. In the boardroom that day, she watched him like a pack of starving wolves. While he discussed drone microprocessors in front of the projector screen, she pointed her blue eyes at him like a hunting rifle.
Her gaze was so intense that Dade even stopped his presentation to tell her, “I don’t care if you’re new, don’t look at me that way.” His harsh instruction brought anxiety and discomfort to the board members but only a mischievous smile to Ivy.
When he was finished, she followed him outside and all the way across the courtyard to his vehicle. Dade turned around to let her know that she had been detected but Ivy ducked behind a small shrub far too slender to obscure her body. Her behavior seemed strange, childish and in a way, threatening. Dade could see her giggling like a kid with the upper hand in the game of hide and seek.
Suddenly something very strange happened. The outline of Ivy’s body seemed to become indistinct and blurry. It was as though her features were merging with the background landscape. She was turning transparent. Soon, Dade realized the girl had completely disappeared.
She was behind him.
“My friend,” Ivy said. She put her hand on the small of his back and started rubbing softly.
Dade recoiled at her touch and turned to face her. “Don’t ever make physical contact with me! I don’t care if you’re a woman and I don’t care if you’re on the board. I’ll break your pretty little neck.”
“You think my neck is pretty?”
“No.”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you for sometime, Dade. You’re a hero,” she said. “The Asylum’s Sir Galahad. Everyone knows what you did to stop that terrorist.”
“How did you do that?” Dade asked her. “Back there. Who taught you?”
“Oh,” said Ivy, putting her hand to her face to cover a wide and dangerous looking smile. “You shouldn’t have seen that. I’m so embarrassed.” Then she took a big step toward him like she intended to kiss him. “Did you think you were the only one in the world who had the power? Did you think you were the only one who could evolve?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” answered Dade. “And I don’t know how you did your little magic trick back there.” He started to walk away.
“Oh yes you do,” said Ivy. “You know exactly how I’m doing it. And it’s no magic trick.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I found out a lot about you on the internet.”
“Believe everything you read about me being a killer and the antichrist. Every word of it is true.”
Ivy laughed at him. “So good at scaring everyone,” she said. “Dade Harkenrider has everyone convinced he’s the devil. The more afraid people are, the less likely they are going to look into you, the less likely they find out what happened to your mother. If they’re scared,” she went on, “they probably won’t find out she’s still alive.”
Dade stopped in the middle of a step, turned right around, and marched toward her as though he was going to strangle her. His massive frame towered over her. “You didn’t find that out on the internet,” he growled. “Where did you get that information?”
“Oh. I don’t recall.”
“Tell me now.”
“Are you threatening me, a defenseless woman?”
“Yes, and there is no such thing.”
“Well, I know very well who you are,” said Ivy, dragging her fingertips down Dade’s sleeve. “I know everything about you. We’re as close as you could ever be with someone.” She stepped closer to him and gazed up lovingly. “I know how much you hate being touched by anyone. It’s a shame,” she said. “that you have no interest in that sort of thing.”
“You’re right about that,” Dade told her.
“Asexual as they say.”
“Advanced.”
“Is it true that you’ve never experienced the pleasure of human touch?”
“You’re boring me, lady.” He added, “And no, I find it revolting.”
“You’re going to be fascinating to get close to, Dr. Death,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Don’t count on it.”
“And that new friend of yours. Ann Marie
, is it? It would be nice to get to know her too.”
Dade faced her down like an opposing boxer. “I’m going to have security cattle prod you and throw you out,” he told her.
Ivy held up her badge with her immaculately manicured nails. “Vice President,” she said. “Yay, promotion.”
“Stay the hell out of my lab. My drones don’t give a damn what color your badge is.”
...
That evening, while Ann Marie and Dade prepared for his trip in the tank, he told her about his strange encounter with Ivy. Right away his manner seemed grave. “I can’t be sure...” he said. “But I think I saw her teleport right in front of me.”
“That couldn’t be,” said Ann Marie. “It must have just looked like that from where you were standing.” She added, somewhat delicately, “Maybe these experiments affect you more than you know. Maybe you were seeing things.”
“That’s not what it was,” Dade said. “There was something wrong with her. I could feel it.”
“What do you mean by, wrong with her? Human beings do try to talk to each other on occasion. Maybe she liked you.”
Dade crumpled up his face as if he had just caught a whiff of rotten eggs. “It’s a revolting thought,” he said. “Humans are worse than chimps when it comes to sex. I don’t think that’s what it was though. She knew things about me.”
“The internet is full of information and crazy rumors about you, thanks to those conspiracy wackjobs and religious nuts.”
“She knew things about my mother. She also knew that I’m asexual.” He thought back to the incident and added, “She seemed to delight in disgusting me.”
“What did she say exactly?”
“She asked me if I’ve ever fornicated. Well, she didn’t use those words exactly. She asked like she already knew the answer.”
“What did you tell her?”
Ann Marie's Asylum (Master and Apprentice Book 1) Page 15