“Do you?” Dr. Forrester sounded bored.
“Okay, doctor,” said Thea. “Tell me about Boyd Lexington. Everything you can remember. Especially the circumstances of his leaving. Did he—”
She was interrupted by a bang and splash of hot coffee, as Dr. Forrester slammed her mug down on the table.
“Don’t you give me orders! Don’t you interrogate me!”
Holgersen touched the doctor’s arm. “I think she was just trying—”
“And don’t you defend her!” She flung the rest of her coffee onto his jacket.
Holgersen stared at Dr. Forrester in disbelief and confusion, but Thea didn’t have time for either. The ozone smell and that darkening cloud were all around her now—inside as well as out. Her own wrath swelled up in answer to Dr. Forrester’s, like a bird answering another’s cry.
Thea’s claws came out. And illusion or no illusion, in about five seconds she’d be across the table, slashing at the doctor.
She did the only thing she could do, really: she got up and fled.
Less than a week after her disastrous brunch with Dr. Forrester (the doctor had refused to see or speak with her again), Thea was crouched between the couch and the wall, underneath the living room window of one Marigold Marino.
The position allowed her to not only stay out of sight of anyone coming through the front door, but to avoid having to look at the multitude of posters and figurines of butterflies and winged horses that cluttered the place, which was decorated in colors normally reserved for Easter eggs and baby’s rooms.
It had been easy to get in; Marigold had left the window unlocked. That wouldn’t have been surprising for a normal human living on the fifth floor of an apartment building. But this one should have known better. She knew that some people could fly.
Then again, Thea didn’t expect Philip’s girlfriend to be terribly bright.
Elon’s reconnaissance mission had proved fruitful: he’d learned about the human girlfriend, and even managed to figure out a little about their routine. Now all Thea had to do was wait for Marigold and Philip to come back from their usual Friday night date. They went to dinner, maybe a movie or a concert—apparently human illusions didn’t require a business case and a project code to access at Fury Unlimited—then came back to Marigold’s place, where Philip stayed overnight and sometimes straight through until Sunday.
Didn’t Megaira get pissed, Elon had asked, if her assistant stayed away from the colony for such a long stretch?
No, Philip had assured him. At Fury Unlimited, you weren’t treated like a prisoner the way you were at Hexing House. As long as he kept his laptop with him in case Megaira needed something, he was free to spend his weekends wherever and however he liked.
Such a conscientious fellow.
Thea’s plan seemed fairly foolproof. If for some reason Philip didn’t have the computer, she would simply fly back out the window, and nobody would need to be the wiser until she tried again the following Friday. If he did have it, she would grab it while Philip and Marigold were busy in the bedroom, and be on her way.
It wasn’t exactly instant access to all of Fury Unlimited’s secrets, but Cora spending some quality time with Philip’s computer was the best shortcut they were likely to get.
Cora had asked Thea what she planned to do if Philip or Marigold caught her there.
“So much the better,” Thea had said. “I’ll beat all the passwords out of him. Make your job easier.”
But she’d been joking (mostly). She knew the best case was for her to get in and out quietly, without leaving any evidence behind. Philip would still suspect that someone from Hexing House was involved, but she didn’t want him to have proof. Especially not when Alecto didn’t know what Thea was up to.
So Thea stayed quiet as the door opened and closed, through the sounds of Marigold’s giggling, and what apparently passed for suave seduction in Philip’s mind. Thea could have sworn she could smell the gel in his hair, all the way across the room.
Unfortunately, that smell got a lot stronger when Philip sat down on the couch. Thea stilled, breathing as softly as she could, while Marigold served him a drink. Would he sense Thea, somehow, one fury to another? She didn’t think they had that power, but as she’d recently learned all too well, she didn’t know nearly as much about the creature she’d become as she should.
One drink turned into three, or maybe four. They turned on the TV, which allowed Thea to relax the slightest bit, and talked dirty, which she tried her best not to hear.
Eventually the noise of their chatter gave way to other, more repulsive sounds: sucking, licking. They’d been drinking for an hour or two by then, and it sounded sloppy. Thea stopped bothering to try to quiet the deep breathing necessary to settle her stomach, reasoning that it was less likely to be noticed than the sound of retching.
Finally, blessedly, they went into the bedroom.
Thea waited a reasonable amount of time, then crept out from behind the couch and scanned the room. There was Philip’s laptop bag, beside a duffel bag and his jacket, all piled up by the door.
Was it really going to be that easy? Not that listening to their foreplay had been a small price to pay.
Thea secured the shoulder strap across her body, then hesitated between the door and the window. Opening the window might make more noise than opening the door. But flying would be faster. Even if they heard her, she’d be gone before they got out of the bedroom.
She was two steps from the window when she heard Marigold scream.
That scream was followed by three more, each louder and more full of pain than the last.
And then, worse, the intensity dropped off, until all Thea could hear was whimpering punctuated by Philip’s low voice—his words were unintelligible, but he sounded calm—and the dull sound of flesh meeting flesh.
Shit.
Thea tried to tell herself she should just go. She didn’t know what was going on, or anything about their relationship. For all she knew, Marigold was into this kind of thing. And anyway, what were the chances Philip’s girlfriend was even a decent person?
You were Baird’s girlfriend.
Had anyone heard Thea’s screams, the night Baird had almost killed her?
Had anyone shrugged it off because hey, maybe they were just being kinky?
Or decided it was none of their business?
Or decided that a whore like Teddie Gideon wasn’t worth the trouble and risk of saving?
Shit.
Thea set down the laptop bag, and went into the bedroom.
Shit!
So much for being a superhero. Marigold, it seemed, was into this kind of thing.
She was on the bed, wearing something shiny and stringy. Philip was poised above her, completely naked except for his fury’s medallion and the other gold chains he wore. His human illusion was gone, and his wings were spread wide. He slapped at Marigold with them, and scratched her breasts with the talons. She cried and whimpered.
And smiled through swollen, bloody lips.
“More, Philip. Harder. I want to feel myself bleed.”
Shit.
This is what you get for trying to reclaim your humanity, or whatever soft-hearted crap you were trying to pull.
Okay, but they hadn’t seen her yet. If she was quiet, she could—
“Philip, there’s someone in here!”
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Thea protracted her claws at the same time Philip whirled to face her. The shock left his face quickly, replaced by a slow smile as his own claws came out.
“Come to join in? Always knew you were a slut.”
Go. Run. Get what you came for and get out.
Thea jumped back out of the room and used a wing to slam the door behind her. There was nothing on hand to barricade it with, and she didn’t have time. But she was fast. Surely she’d be out the window before Philip could catch her.
She grabbed the laptop and half-ran, half-flew across the living room.
Marigold was screaming, not in pain or alarm anymore, but an aggressive, shrieking sound.
Another loud noise, a familiar boom that Thea was too panicked to consider or recognize. Something hit her shoulder.
Then Philip was there, grabbing her legs, tackling her to the floor.
Thea had gotten in a few fights since she’d transformed, but she had yet to fight a naked opponent. She didn’t care for what it added to the experience.
She cared even less for the source of that boom and the pain in her shoulder, which turned out to be the gun that Marigold was holding. Luckily, Marigold was drunk, slightly hysterical, and a very bad shot. The bullet had only grazed Thea, and a second missed her entirely.
Thea stabbed Philip in the face with one of her talons, kicked out of his grasp, and rolled away. On the bright side, judging by his reaction time, he was as drunk as his girlfriend.
But Thea was slowing down herself. Her shoulder was bleeding purple all over Marigold’s pink-beige carpet, and Philip had gashed her thigh badly enough to make movement with that leg difficult. Marigold was between her and the window, waving the gun and shouting.
Philip was coming at Thea again. Still naked. But now Thea smiled. She could use that, both to stop him and to move Marigold out of her way.
Philip lunged at her. Marigold had been threatening to shoot again, but squealed and froze, afraid, Thea supposed, of hitting her boyfriend.
Thea dove. Not for Philip or Marigold. Not for the laptop bag or the window. But for the coffee table, where Marigold had a heavy statue—pewter, Thea thought—of Pegasus.
Thea picked it up and, praying for some accuracy, hurled it square at Philip’s crotch.
He passed out a few seconds later. After that, subduing Marigold was easy.
Thea had quickly altered her plan from getting Philip’s laptop and getting out, to questioning him thoroughly. Now that he’d seen her, what was the point of asking Cora to squeeze secrets out of his computer, when Thea might be able to squeeze those same secrets out of Philip’s flesh right then and there?
After all, he might resist. Things might get ugly.
She might be forced to hurt him.
The brief fight had gotten her keyed up, and she could feel something that wasn’t quite wrath roiling around inside her.
Bloodthirst.
Thea had the gun, and once or twice she made a show of pointing it at Marigold, but it wasn’t really necessary. Marigold was a mess of snot and running makeup, shaking and crying over the still-unconscious Philip, wondering if he was dead. For a woman who apparently got off on violence and blood, it was quite a dramatic performance.
Thea’s first order of business was ordering Marigold to put some sweatpants on Philip, and a robe on herself. Not surprisingly, Marigold owned a pair of handcuffs. Thea had her put these on Philip, too, and supplemented them with scarves tying his ankles and the tips of his wings, all before Philip came around.
But what to do with Marigold? Thea could threaten to hurt her, as a way of trying to get Philip to talk. But given that he’d been hurting her himself half an hour ago, Thea wasn’t sure seeing Marigold suffer would be much motivation for him.
Finally she settled on tying Marigold up on the couch beside her boyfriend, and threatening to gag her as well, if she couldn’t get a hold of herself. Luckily, the combination of stress and vodka tonics seemed to have done their work, and it wasn’t long before Marigold sat heavy-lidded, sniffling but otherwise silent.
Things got loud again when Philip woke up.
When his words were intelligible at all among the cries and groans, he seemed to be begging for ice for his balls. Thea decided she could leverage that, and got a bag of frozen peas from Marigold’s freezer.
“Bet this would help, huh?” she asked.
Philip’s glare was made less effective by a whimper.
He didn’t so much as glance in Marigold’s direction to see if she was okay, although Thea supposed he might have while she was in the kitchen. Threatening the girlfriend still might prove useful.
But threatening the balls was almost certainly a better call.
“So, we can go two ways with this,” Thea said. “I can give you the peas, which in my experience make an excellent ice pack.”
“Or?” Philip asked.
“Or, I can pick up that statue and whack you with it again. Not too hard—I don’t want you to keep fainting like a little girl. But hard enough to hurt. Which would probably only take a tap at this point, come to think of it.”
He stared at her. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I got hard,” Thea said. “Isn’t that what everyone kept telling me to do? You, on the other hand, won’t have that opportunity ever again, unless I get answers to my questions.”
“I won’t tell you anything that could get me in trouble,” Philip said. “It’s not worth having Maggie take my wings.”
Thea nodded. “Fair enough. We wouldn’t want to upset Maggie, would we?”
She flicked out a wing and smacked him in the thigh, dangerously close to the source of his pain.
Philip flinched and writhed on the couch. “What do you want to know?”
Somewhere in her mind and heart, some part of Thea—the human part, maybe—was aware of what she was doing, and was sickened by it. But that part of her was too weak, now, to stop the rest.
That part was always too weak.
“That’s a good boy,” she said, and took a step back.
Philip swallowed and tried to get himself under control. To his credit, he managed to blink away tears, and his voice was relatively calm when he spoke again. “Be reasonable, and I’ll be reasonable, too. Let’s just see if we can work this out, okay?”
“Okay. Why Hemlock Heights?”
He blinked at her. “That’s what you came here to find out?”
“Among other things.”
Philip shrugged. “Random. Had a lot of the demographics we liked. It was far enough away from the nearest response units for the hex to be passing by the time help arrived, and close enough to you that you might get blamed for it.” He paused for a few deep breaths, still clearly trying to work through the pain. “Especially if we encouraged that blame a little bit.”
Thea raised a wing. Philip tensed. He didn’t cry out, only held his breath, waiting.
She didn’t like that. She wanted him to cry out. She told herself that was only because it was necessary that he be afraid, that it would make his questioning more efficient.
She struck him. He squealed like a young pig.
Beside him, Marigold began to wail and cry. Thea hit her too, right across the face. Her talon opened a gash in Marigold’s cheek.
What the hell am I doing?
With an effort, Thea took another step back and lowered her wings. She was dangerously close to losing control.
Or maybe she already had. She wasn’t sure she cared anymore.
Bloodthirst.
“Wrong answer, Philip,” Thea said. “Let’s try that again. Why Hemlock Heights? Why Boyd Lexington’s neighborhood?” She smiled at the surprise he tried, too late and too clumsily, to hide.
“Didn’t think I’d find out about Boyd?” she asked. “Really? I’m an Investigator, Philip. And I was top of my class during transformation training, surely you haven’t forgotten that.” Thea shrugged. “But you never thought of me as anything but a stupid slut. Big mistake.” She raised both wings, ready to lash out.
Philip struggled to free his own wings, but Thea had made sure her knots were secure. He’d have to break a talon off—if not two—to get loose. And even if he managed it, she had the gun. She held it up in a silent reminder.
She saw it in his eyes, the moment he gave up. Thea tossed the peas—very gently—into his lap as Philip began to speak.
“Hemlock Heights had to be neutralized,” he said, then sighed with relief as the makeshift ice pack began to do its work. “Thank you.”
“Why did it h
ave to be neutralized?” Thea asked. “Were you guys using it as a lab? Doing experiments there regularly?”
“No,” Philip said, both a frown and a slight smile on his face. “That’s what you think?” Then he shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I can see how you would.”
“Evidence suggests that the residents there were exposed to the superhex before the day of the demonstration,” Thea said. “Probably more than once.”
“Only Boyd,” said Philip. “When he was at the lab. The real lab, the same one you were at. But that was enough. Boyd was out of control.”
“In what way?” Thea asked.
Philip started to answer, then stopped and grinned at her suddenly. “You seemed to enjoy all that.” He nodded at Marigold, still crying beside him. “Hurting us. Were you always so kinky, or is this a recent thing?”
“Answer the question,” Thea said.
“I am answering it.” Philip leaned forward, winced at the pain, then repositioned himself, wriggling until the bag of peas settled into the proper spot. “Maybe he was out of control in the same way you are.”
Thea’s blood ran cold, and for the first time since she came through Marigold’s window, she was afraid. She couldn’t afford to let it show, even a little. Giving Philip any advantage would be a mistake.
And that’s all he’s trying to do, she warned herself. Gain an advantage. Mess with your head. Don’t let him.
He smiled again, a nasty, predatory smile. “Are you feeling out of control, Thea? Maybe just a little bit?”
“A little bit,” Thea agreed with what she hoped was a bored nod. “Like maybe I’m going to start torturing you two if you don’t get to the point.”
“Maybe you should take off the amulet,” Philip said. “Let me have a look at you.”
Without any warning—even for herself—Thea struck Philip again. The bag broke and peas flew everywhere. Philip’s face went gray. Then he passed out again.
Marigold cried herself sick. Without untying her or even helping her clean up her face, Thea tossed the girl onto her bed, and closed the bedroom door. Then she sat back down in the living room, gun in her lap, and waited Philip out.
Lasting Fury (Hexing House Book 2) Page 9