Dru loved him. He was, in his opinion, a perfect fit. He could do heavy lifting, he was trained in cooking, he seemed honest, and he had nursing training.
Jaspierre didn't particularly like him. But she allowed it anyway.
The maid they hired was named Arnold. He had white hair but said he was only thirty-five. He had OCD terribly and continually straightened objects in the room while they talked to him. His only bothersome hobby was breaking into people's homes and organizing them. He would organize them first by pints of blood, which he would bag and set in the fridge. And then he would remove each organ and lay them out by size. Hearts on the couch, livers on the beds, gallstones laid out on the toilet. He explained his system, but Jaspierre took little interest.
The four of them sat down for their first staff meeting, and Jaspierre started off with, "Don't shit where you eat. If you desire to have time working on a hobby, you better do it at least two hours away." She held up a tracking gun. "Trackers in each of your backs. Dru, if you would." He cleaned the gun with alcohol as she continued. "I don't like sharing this space. This is my home. I want our work done soon, then we will move on.
"Mother loved portmanteaus. Words like 'brunch,' breakfast mixed with lunch. Her life was cut unfortunately short, and I owe it to her to try to complete her works. She only had three creatures she wanted to make: ruppie, cameleopard, and a sheeple. She tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to merge a rabbit and a dog. However, we have new tools that will make this much easier. Success is inevitable."
Dru pressed the trigger and the tiny tracker shot into Arnold's back. He grimaced, then continued to listen. Dru sterilized the gun again.
"Make no mistake, though. I have no hobbies. But I am a force to be reckoned with. If you mess this up, I will do much worse than kill you. Although I will do that too."
Dru pushed the tip of the gun into Basel's back and he grunted as the tracker pierced his skin. Dru sterilized the gun once more.
Jaspierre watched as Dru handed the gun to Basel, and he implanted the last tracker into Dru's back. "Let me show you your workspaces."
They walked out to the barn and Arnold squirmed uncomfortably. Everything was out of order. The cages were in perfect lines, but they weren't categorized by size. His fingers start to twitch. Soon he was flicking them one at a time. Four three two one. One two three four. Fingers touched thumb, thumb to finger.
Basel opened and closed cabinets, familiarizing himself with the contents. Dru walked to the 3-D printer and watched the little squirting piston print. He was printing up another patch of skin to practice attaching.
Jaspierre stood and watched the men exploring the room. The half-skinned puppy lay dead on the operating table. Arnold entered the room and he let out a hideous whistle of air.
His fingers were thrumming faster, flicking, and his lips were moving as he counted. One two three four, four three two one. He grasped the ruppie and shoved it in the trash bin. He scrubbed down the bed methodically, then started on the floor.
Dru clicked his disapproval. "I wasn't finished with that one."
"It's dead. This place is so filthy, I can't believe you even tried to work," Arnold said mumbling, One-two-three-four as he frantically scrubbed.
"Dru, you can have Mother's office. I expect you'll keep her files and add your own. Any of her personal effects, you can file away."
She showed him the hidden room behind the one-way mirror. He grinned. He already loved this place.
Jaspierre left the three men to clean and prep and she went back to her house. It barely felt like hers now. She stood staring at the big marble staircase, the bushes carved like her giant servals. A hint of terror. This was the wrong thing to do.
She shook off the looming worry and went down to the library. She clicked the ear on the serval carving and the door swung opened. She shut the door behind her and was met by a loud yowl.
"It's not safe up there for you two." She stroked the big servals inside the glass boxes and kissed them both. She didn't bother bringing them any food. They would eat in the maze. And play in the maze. But they would not meet the new guests.
She shifted the maze around until it made a spiral shape. She pressed another button and a door opened in the middle. Ten mice came scrambling out. Two rabbits entered the maze from another button. A small fountain of fresh water bubbled up from the floor.
She pressed a switch and the cats were off running and playing. She found she didn't have the energy to watch them, though. This baby was already exhausting her. She fell asleep in her chair.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Edward stood at Chance's burned up house again. He couldn't stop coming back here. An important clue was missing. He didn't know what it was, though. He had tried to call the morgue a few times, but they refused to return his call. He was gonna have to stop in later today.
Man on the couch, tied up, shot, toes cut off at an earlier date.
Helen on the table, tied up, toes cut off recently, arm broken.
What was he trying to do? Did he have a toe fetish? Did the other guy? So the guy on the couch, he cuts off his own toes. Then he decides to take Helen's toes, brings her over to Chance's house....
Except Chance found Helen near the lake. The woman was a random person. Were they a team? This man and Chance. But it went wrong. Chance double-crossed the guy.
Why toes? What did toes have to do with any of it? Who removed them? He lit up a cigarette and went for a walk. He walked down the road, puffing on his stick. A bird was clucking away on the side of the road. A big black raven, he thought. He wandered towards it, thinking about severed toes.
It flew off in a big whoosh, startling him. He looked over, and there were the half-eaten remains of the body of a man. A man with a severed head. Edward snapped a few pictures of it with his cellphone before he called it in. He wasn't shocked at all when they declared it was Chance and this case was closed. He would be moved to another assignment until the dental records came back.
That wasn't Chance and everyone knew it. This man had a broken arm and a severed head. Another John Doe. No pockets. What remained of his clothes appeared to be white scrubs. No shoes. No toes.
Edward didn't have a choice; he'd be off the case until the dental records came back. His boss wanted this case shut down. It was an embarrassment to their squad to have a cop involved in this shit. Well, at least he could help Jessi work on Peter's case.
Chapter
Twelve
Dru carried a bag of his stuff down the main hall, to Lucas's room next to Jaspierre's. Jaspierre stepped outside of her room, staring at the man. "What are you doing?" she said.
"Moving into a room," he said with a sly smile.
"You, Arnold, and Basel will all be staying in the staff apartment. Not in the guest hallway. You are employees," she said briskly.
"Hang on, now. I understand Arnold and Basel staying in the staff apartment. But I am the head scientist. I am the head person in charge. I'm the guy," he said angrily. "I should get to stay up here with you." He put his hand on Lucas's door. He twisted the handle slowly. He did not look up, his eyes boring into the door, his jaw clenched tightly.
"You are on the payroll." Her heart was pounding. She could feel the rage building inside her. What the fuck was this man thinking? Seriously? Why the hell would he think he could have Lucas's room! "If you want to stay on the payroll, then you need to get your ass to the fucking staff apartment."
He didn't look up. He appeared to be in his own battle of controlling his own temper. His face was twisted with angry, hateful spite. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He punched the door and turned to face her. "You need me way fucking more than I need you, bitch."
With that said, he grabbed his bag and shoved past her, her body slamming into the wall uncomfortably. Jaspierre was shaken. Who was this man? Who the hell had she let into her house? She stepped into her bedroom and locked the door.
What if that crash in
to the wall hurt the baby? Her stomach flipped, and she ran, vomiting profusely into the toilet. Should she have let him stay up in this corridor? Anger quickly faded into fear. He was just like Mother. Her mouth sucked dry at the thought. She couldn't control him, she couldn't stop him, and she needed him. It was just like Mother. She waited until it was dark, and then snuck down to her library, locking the door. Quickly, she clicked the serval's ear, and the fireplace slid open. Her bare feet slid down the concrete steps. At the touch of a button, the fireplace slid back into place, locking. For the first time ever, she crawled into one of the glass boxes, shutting the door behind her.
Her bare feet touched the smooth, cold, white maze material. And Ikali and Tessa were by her side instantly. She curled together with them, her head on top of Tessa's belly, and Ikali curled around her body. She grew warm and sleepy. She wept until exhaustion over took her. Why had she decided to let them into her house? Why did she have to make a ruppie?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Dru sat at the old wooden desk and ran his fingers across the dusty top. He glanced through the one-way mirror at Arnold, who was frantically cleaning the operating theater. Basel was inspecting the rest of the supplies. He carried a clipboard he had found and was taking inventory. He made notes of things they would be needing in the future.
Dru stared at the two men, and then dusted his desk. While he was going through each door, he found a small latch at the back of one drawer. He tugged on it and a small compartment opened under the desk. Curious, he crawled under and ran his hands into the hole.
Inside was a small packet of letters and a passport. He flipped through the envelopes. They were addressed to Paris. He didn't bother opening any. A small picture fell out and he picked it up. A gorgeous naked brunette straddling a young muscular man. He was looking up towards the camera with a big grin. She was biting her lip and staring into the camera. The back of the picture said, "Pierre and Severina made it to America."
The passport was Pierre's. The letters hadn't been mailed, although they were stamped. Pierre's name was in the upper left hand corner of each envelope. Dru realized he had found a secret. Pierre probably thought his letters had been mailed. Decisions.
Dru sorted through the files and the desk some more, but kept looking over at the letters. It was obvious this was Severina's desk. Her experiments. Her ruppie.
It seemed like Pierre probably would have wanted those letters mailed. Dru found a large brown envelope and slid the picture, the letters, and the passport inside. He wrote in the top left hand corner, "With love, from Jaspierre," then he wrote the address in Paris from the old letters. He heard a rap on the door.
Basel stuck his head in. "So, boss, where do we order stuff from? I have the basic supplies planned, but if you need anything special, let me know." Basel paused as he saw the envelope. "Would you like me to mail that?"
Dru felt his heart flutter at the word "boss." Oh yes, absolutely mail this. He was in charge now. "Yes. I think there is a medical supply store about an hour from here. Be discreet about it, though. Do you still have a nursing uniform? Wear that when you shop."
"Yes, boss." Basel disappeared.
Dru programmed the printing machine. Once they had a puppy to work on, they would take tissue samples and put them in the machine. Then they could print up extra parts. Mostly, it had been tested on fleshy parts, like a heart valve. No more waiting for the right person to text and drive. Smoke your lungs off and print up a new pair.
Printing rabbit-shaped parts out of dog DNA had such interesting possibilities. He figured he would start with the ears. Dog-ear DNA printed to look like a rabbit ear. Legs, ears, and tail. That was all he had to successfully trade out to make a ruppie. He'd probably make two or three and then see if they would live. He grinned and got to work.
Arnold had scrubbed his fingertips raw, but the operating theater sparkled. He was done with the equipment and the floor and was humming and scrubbing down the cabinets. Even places that appeared clean to Dru were scrubbed multiple times by Arnold. After several hours, Basel showed back up.
Dru was still knee deep in programming. Arnold was clearly getting tired, but he relentlessly scrubbed. "I don't want to set these anywhere if you aren't ready for them," Basel said to Arnold. His grey hair was sticking to his face, and his fingertips bled on the counter as he scrubbed it.
"Onetwothreefour," Arnold blurted out in one big word and straightened. "Four three two one. Put them on the tray. I will get to them in a moment."
"I'm gonna make us lunch. I should have inventoried the kitchen before I left. You are tired, Arnold. You can finish tomorrow if you want."
"I cannot," Arnold said because it was true. He clicked his sore fingertips with his thumb, counting in his head.
"Well, I have gloves, at least."
"Good." Arnold slipped on two pairs and seemed less stressed.
Basel strolled to the kitchen. The little brick steps were old but perfectly usable. The yard was so well kept. He stared at the massive building in front of him. There was a grand circular drive up to marble steps. Two large bushes carved to look like cats stood stately on each side of the steps. The doors were massive and ornate.
He walked inside and looked for the chick. "Hello? I am making lunch. Do you want any?"
He walked up the marble stairs and looked around. The first room on the left was a massive gym. On the right was a locked door, presumably her bedroom. "Hey, lady?" He turned back and looked into the kitchen. Empty. He looked at the library where a corpse was almost finished burning. He threw a few more logs on the body and continued to walk around. "Hey, lady?" There was a massive pool; half of it went under a pane of glass to the outdoors. There was a big rock platform for jumping. He walked back to the kitchen and through the big dining room. A long, snaked table wove around the room. It was solid wood. There were little carved planks lined up across the table like train tracks.
He stepped into the kitchen. It was as elaborate and expensive as the rest of the house. He lit one of the burners on the six-burner stove with a turn of the knob. Soon, he was frying up chicken. He made mashed potatoes and green beans. Once it was done, he plated it all. The steamy hot scent of chicken tickled his nose. Getting it to the barn was definitely a problem. Carrying three plates wasn't terribly easy without multiple trips, and he didn't even have lids to keep the plates warm while he walked. He wished he had an intercom to buzz them and let them know food was ready.
He wrinkled his nose and set the plates in the warm oven, and he walked to go get them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Chance was sitting in the cellar basement again. There wasn't really anything left to do, but he liked to imagine her down here, in the cool, moist, dirty room. He kept envisioning her big, swollen belly full of babies. Birthing babies in dirt probably meant no clean up. Hose the pair off when they came upstairs, assuming, of course, that he'd let her upstairs some of the time. He wondered how many kids they would have. At least four boys. Enough to play a decent game of two on two basketball. The girls could do the cooking or whatever they needed to take care of the men. If Jasp was in a good mood, she could hang out up here in the main part of the cabin. He already made a sturdy chain to go around her waist. He considered breaking her feet so she wouldn't run off, but it seemed a little overkill. Ah, this was love.
Well, it was easy to get carried away once they started screaming. So tied up would have to do. If he felt like beating someone, he could always go find a street lady. They weren't worth anything anyway. With any luck, Jasp would be in a great mood and help chop her up. Jasp had a toe fetish and Chance wasn't gonna forget anytime soon.
The cabin already looked much different from when Chance first found it. Trash and porn littered every surface. Chance wasn't big on cleaning; that was women's work. The leash he made was a long chain, long enough to go outside and chop wood or fetch water from the nearby stream. Only after, of course, she had proved she wouldn't get to screaming
and shouting. The dirt cellar had a strong wooden door he could slide a dresser on top of. If he left her down there too long, she could probably dig out. But let's face it; he'd be visiting her often to pump her full of baby seed. Nothing would escape his cop eyes.
He stockpiled canned goods; he wasn't planning on going to town much once she moved in with him. Damn, they were gonna have a fun honeymoon.
He hopped in the red truck and started it up. Time to visit the ol' fiancée. See what she was up to today. Binoculars sat next to him in the passenger seat. He pulled a hat down low and slipped on his sunglasses.
Chapter
Thirteen
Jaspierre sat on the paper on the table. The doctor rubbed the wand on her round belly. "You look like you are pretty far along. Why did you wait so long to come in?" he said before looking up at the ultrasound picture. He stared quietly, and then said, "Well, I guess you aren't as far along as I thought. Due in early November."
Jaspierre wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She got it; she was fat.
He discussed the vitamins she should be taking and politely suggested she try not to eat too much. "Is the father in the picture?"
"He's dead. I'm a widow," Jaspierre replied curtly.
The doctor paused and looked into her eyes in the first moment of connected humanity he had all week. "I am truly sorry."
It was lost upon her, though, as she was already pretending to slice a blade into his belly for insulting hers. She still had some self-control, though, and held his bleeding flesh only in her mind.
She left the appointment and climbed into her car. Her long, brown curled hair was held into a soft ponytail. She didn't particularly want to go home. They were attempting to attach the ears to the first ruppie, and even though she was bound and determined to make Mother's dreams come true, she certainly didn't want to watch. Why did she feel so guilty? Was she the only girl in the world to feel guilty when trying to make her Mother happy? She should get over herself; everyone murders, tortures, and experiments. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Who did she think she was to feel bad for a dumb puppy? Her fingertips gripped the steering wheel so tightly they turned white. She didn't want to watch! Why was it so hard for her?
Jaspierre's Descent (Jaspierre Trilogy Book 2) Page 8