She glanced over at the unconscious Asian shapeshifter, resting peacefully in the pine needles a few feet away.
The man had attacked her from the direction of Simone’s house, which meant he’d probably come from there originally, and that was significant.
What if one of his associates was still back there waiting for him?
It seemed possible.
And, assuming she was correct that the man was another agent for The Order of Merlin, the person waiting might even be the British demon sorcerer.
Which would suit Myra very nicely.
She was feeling much better already, and would love nothing better than to run into the scruffy Brit again.
Run me down like a dog in the street… I’ll tear the fool to pieces…
Yes, if the vile Thackery was there, he would suffer for a long time…
And even if the shapeshifter had come alone, there was probably someone out there somewhere who knew where he’d gone, and that person might come looking for him at any time. If so, Myra thought it would be nice to be there waiting. It wasn’t in her nature to hide from enemies. She wanted to make herself as easy to find as possible.
Also, she’d left some of her things back at the house, not the least of which were a few dead bodies. She’d been planning to have the mercenaries take care of all the annoying details after they got rid of the vehicles, but now she was thinking it might be better to handle some parts herself.
At the very least she wanted to go back to the house and clean herself up before Tobias arrived. And it would be much easier to manage the shapeshifter there.
Lots to do, she thought, as she rose to her feet.
She tossed the three carcasses—mostly hollow now—onto the smoldering fire, and left them to cook. Then she picked up the unconscious shifter and carried him back with her through the woods. Her injuries—especially her lacerated ribs—made toting the extra weight somewhat painful, but not enough to worry about.
And anyway, he was a rather small man, not the least bit heavy.
Small but not weak, she thought, noticing the hard sculpted muscles underneath his clothes.
A warm, tingly ache begin to pulse in her loins, which took her by surprise.
Sometimes a good fight could make her want a man, but the intensity of her desire in this case was a little unusual, especially considering her injuries. Perhaps it was because the little man had been so formidable. It was rare that she found anyone who could actually challenge her, and she didn't mind a challenge.
Yes, I believe I'll keep this one for a while, she thought. It would be interesting to see if she could tame him, put him to use.
She remained alert in case he woke and tried to catch her by surprise, but he didn't stir during the walk.
Upon arriving at the house, she noticed a yellow sedan parked in the driveway: the shifter’s presumably. There was no sign of the British agent’s van, which was a bit disappointing.
She stood outside the house, listening very carefully and using all her other special senses to determine if there was anyone inside, but all she could hear was wood settling, so she stepped out from behind the cover of the trees, crossed the yard, and took the man into the house.
Inside she carried him up the stairs to Simone’s bedroom and laid him out on the bed. His eyes fluttered for a moment and she thought he might be waking, so she gave him a soft slap and put him back out.
She turned him over, searched his pockets, found a driver's license, and looked it over.
Apparently his name was Kevin Tanaka, of Wyoming.
Long way from home, she thought.
Unless that wasn’t his real name. Probably wasn’t if he were some sort of undercover operative, as she suspected.
There were already heavy restraints on the bed, and she considered just fastening him up the way she’d done with Simone, but then she changed her mind. He was a shapeshifter, and who knew what powers he might have. A more thorough approach was required.
After mulling things over for a bit, she detached the restraints from the bed posts, then used one strap to fasten his hands behind his back, and the other to fasten his feet together.
Reasonably secure, she thought. If he woke and tried anything, he wouldn't likely get far.
Still, there was no reason to take any chances, and there were other things she could do to make sure he didn’t get loose.
She left him for a minute to search for supplies, then came back and made some tweaks. She ended up using Simone's bed sheet in combination with a whole lot of duct tape to wrap up his legs, and then used a lot of additional duct tape on his arms, going round and round his shoulders and chest.
He slept through the whole process, which worried her a little. Obviously she had battered his head quite badly, and heads weren't always able to take much abuse. It was convenient that he seemed to be deeply unconscious, but death could sneak up unexpectedly.
She checked his pulse and found that it was strong, and his skin seemed warm. She stroked the side of his face softly with the backs of her fingers.
"Stay alive little man," she whispered. “I have questions for you.”
2 - Ready
Myra left the unconscious shifter alone, and took a shower—her second in the last 12 hours or so—to wash away the gore she had accumulated from bleeding all over herself and murdering the drunks.
Killing people was always enjoyable, but regrettably messy.
As the flowing water rinsed the dried blood from her torso, she noticed that the open wound on her ribcage had closed up nicely, without even leaving a scar. Which was very good to see—the meal had done its work faster than expected. It'd been an especially rich feast, and she'd dined so well that her tummy was pooching out.
Meats are the world's best treats, even better than the sweets.
A smile broke out on her face as she stood there and let the hot water course over her skin.
The speedy recovery meant she probably hadn't even needed to call Tobias. But it was just as well that he was coming. There were things that needed dealing with here, more than she could handle on her own easily. Someone would’ve probably had to come back later to finish the job in any case. Might as well take care of it now.
She washed her hair and lathered herself up all over with soap, and then while she was at it, she grabbed one of Simone's razors and took a few minutes to shave her legs—something she rarely bothered with because her leg hairs were thicker and harder to shave than a human woman's, and they grew out so fast that it hardly seemed worth the trouble.
She ended up cutting herself in the process, as usual, which was irksome, but she needed to look her best. Tobias would be taking her back to the church, which meant she might come face to face with Mother today. It was important that she make the best and most respectful impression possible, so she wanted to wear something formal—one of her nicer dresses. Hairy legs wouldn't work.
Once out of the shower, she went to get her clothes. There were several large leather suitcases full of her things stacked up by the table in the dining room. She searched through them and dug out the most formal garment she'd brought with her: a black and gold knee-length dress that had cost her about 5,000 dollars to buy, custom made to fit her large body perfectly. She put it on, then she took a few minutes to do her makeup, and put on pair of high heel shoes.
She stood back from the big mirror in Simone’s bathroom, and smiled.
“Just like new,” she said.
- - -
Kevin woke with a gasp, opened his eyes, looked around himself.
Like a tape rewinding, he thought, as his eyes soaked in the details, one by one. It was the very same little bedroom he’d been in right before he went off to face his death.
Maybe that’s what happens when you die—Just going back and reliving your last moments, again and again.
Any minute now he would hear screams, and go out to fight the monster woman, and she would beat him again.
Kill
him again…
He blinked a couple of times to clear some of the sleep out of his eyes, turned his head a little to look out the window, and saw that there was light coming through…
Which means the sun has risen, which means time has passed… So probably this isn’t an instant replay of my death after all.
He sighed. It was good to be alive, but there was a whole lot of pain assaulting his nervous system right now: a pounding in his head, an ache in his throat, and… a tingle in his fingers...
Oh crap, he thought.
Was the bacteria from the pyramid loose in his blood again? Had his defenses failed?
He sure hoped not, but before he could spare much thought on that line of thinking, there was an even more pressing issue to deal with.
Why the heck couldn’t he get up?
He shifted his position, glanced down the length of his body, and got a look at the way he was bound up. Whoever had trussed him—presumably the monster woman who had choked him out in the woods—had done a very thorough job. There was duct tape, and a sheet involved, and he could feel something tight, biting into his wrists and ankles.
A quick glance at the bed-post confirmed his suspicion. The straps that’d looked like creepy bondage gear had been removed from the posts and put to use in a different way. On him. They were every bit as tough and sturdy as handcuffs, which meant he wasn’t ever going to bust out of them without using a little something extra.
But do I have something extra?
Kevin closed his eyes and reached deep down inside, searching with his mind for the little particles of potential in his blood; the particles that came from the “packages” he installed with The Mask.
He wasn’t sure exactly what the tiny things really were, but he had theories. He didn’t think they were living things, because they didn’t feel alive, and he didn’t think they actually contained cellular tissue from the animal samples he collected. To him, the particles felt like tiny microscopic machines; machines programmed with instructions for exactly how to alter his cells. And the machines seemed to have a special sort of interface built in so that he could bring them to life and put them to work with the power of his thoughts.
Unfortunately, the Mask particles weren’t very durable. They stopped working after about 30 or 40 hours, and that was if he wasn’t actually using them very much. When he used them in a big way, they failed a lot faster. And he’d sure used them plenty last night, which meant the supply in his blood was running really low right now.
Was there enough left to get him out of this mess?
He wasn’t sure. It would be close.
He’d brought some packages along with him as a backup—they were out in the trunk of his car, along with the Mask. But obviously if he wanted to recharge, and take another real shot at this particular bad-guy, he’d have to get loose and escape first. Which meant he had to be smart. He couldn’t have any waste from trial and error. Every physical alteration he used had to count for something.
He tried to think calmly about how to go about it, but his mind wouldn’t settle.
Ugh… I’m fried… Nervous as a cat. Could really use a freakin’ cigarette right now.
That was it, he suddenly realized. That’s what was bothering him. If he could just have a nice long smoke, he might not even mind staying tied up a little longer.
Maybe he could get the monster woman to bring him a smoke… Put it to her like a last request—just one little smoke before I die! Please!
Maybe he could also ask her why she’d decided not to just go ahead and kill him. What sort of plan did she have for him anyway?
Gonna eat me probably… Most likely she’s full and she’s saving me for later. I guess I’ll make for a nice snack.
He suddenly remembered the injured woman he’d seen out by the fire; the little woman who’d been barely alive.
Probably dead now.
“’Cause I didn’t get the job done,” he muttered, suddenly disgusted with himself.
He lay there, staring up at the ceiling for another minute or two, angry with himself for failing, wishing he could go back and try it again in a different way.
Then he decided to stop being a big baby and get busy.
The first thing he did was close his eyes and send his thoughts into his hand, where the dangerous and exotic organism from the pyramid was, indeed, running wild again. He spent a few minutes putting everything back the way it had been before, which proved easy enough, and then he turned his mind again to the task of figuring out a way to break out of these bindings.
The leather restraints that’d been on the bed posts seemed pretty strong. It might be possible to break them under ideal circumstances just by massively bumping up his strength, but with his hands fastened behind his back he had basically no leverage, so he needed to figure out a different way, and the only thing that came to mind was to shrink his wrists, make them longer and more narrow. It would weaken the bone structure, and that would be bad if he had to fight somebody on his way out, so he would also need to modify the bones in that area to make them denser and harder.
The duct tape would be easier to deal with. Moisture would make the sticky stuff on the back of the tape come loose, and he could get plenty of moisture just by forcing himself to sweat, something he could do purely with his own natural talent for controlling involuntary bodily functions. Which meant he wouldn’t have to use any of his Mask particles for that part.
But the sweat probably wouldn’t be enough on its own—some of the tape wasn’t even touching his skin—a lot of it was on the outside of the sheet, or attached to his shirt. Sweating would help him start the process of getting the tape loose, but to get the job done he would need to boost his strength too, so he could rip the fabric.
Might also help to give myself a nice set of claws for cutting things… And I guess that’s about all I can do. Anything more and I’ll run out of steam.
Really it wasn’t a very awesome plan. It was only 50/50 it would work at all. Maybe even less than 50/50.
He lay there for a few minutes, second-guessing himself, trying to talk himself out of it. Was there a better way? Was he forgetting something important? A million questions flashed up in his mind, and all of them seemed to have multiple contradictory answers.
Gah! Can’t get this wrong. It’s my only freakin’ chance!
He tortured himself a while longer, kept on picking holes in his plan, and had just about decided to wait for a better, safer opportunity when he heard the sound footsteps on the stairs.
Loud confident footsteps.
Oh crap…
He closed his eyes to slits, slowed his breathing, and his heart-rate. For all the world he looked like he was sleeping.
3 - Faker
Myra opened the bedroom door to have a look at her
captive. His eyes were still closed, his breathing slow and steady.
But he wasn’t sleeping. Some deep inner sense told her so.
Just Pretending, she thought. Perhaps he planned to ambush her.
That might be fun.
She felt much better now, and had no doubt she could handle an attack from him with no difficulty.
She walked into the room, sat down beside him on the bed, and watched him breathing for two full minutes.
She put her hand on his stomach, felt the muscles tighten slightly; then she eased it down lower, inch by inch, put her fingers under the band of his pants-
He squirmed away slightly and she laughed.
“Don’t play games,” she said. “I know you’re awake.”
He opened his eyes and glared up at her.
More than anything, his expression was full of raw hatred. She saw a touch of mild anxiety there too, but not much fear at all. This man was impressive. He had real guts.
“Hello Kevin Tanaka,” she said. “My name is Myra Calanealoo, and we’re going to get to know each other much better over the coming days. I’m thinking we might even become good friends.”
“Are you ready to tell me a few things about yourself? Right now I’m very interested in getting answers from you.”
There was a very brief moment where, from his expression, it seemed that he genuinely considered volunteering something, which surprised her—secret agent types were usually much more guarded, and harder to get through to—but then he seemed to think better of the notion. His face went blank, and he looked away from her at the wall.
“The silent treatment then?” she asked. “Is that how you want to start? That can be a fun game, for a while. But eventually you will speak to me. Know that.”
The threat didn’t provoke the slightest bit of visible fear in him, which was impressive, and also a little worrying. She didn’t like the idea of breaking him, at least not physically. It seemed wasteful to her.
Most of the time she found killing and brutality quite pleasurable, but that was because she understood that most people were basically cows, born to die at the feet of those that were better than them. There were some people who were above all that, more worthy. People like this man.
Breaking his spirit wouldn’t be anything to celebrate.
I will give him time, she thought. I don’t really fear his masters, whoever they are, so there’s no hurry.
She gave his stomach an affectionate pat, then stood and walked to the door.
Just before walking out, she looked over her shoulder and added, “We’ll be leaving here in a bit—I just got off the phone with my brother, and he’s coming here to pick us up. I have a few things to arrange downstairs in the meantime, so I’ll have to leave you. I’m sorry about the restraints, but I’m sure you understand the necessity. Try to rest comfortably. When we get where we’re going I should be able to make you a little more comfortable.”
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