by wildbow
She grinned and waved a hand at me, “No problem, no problem.”
I gave Lisa a quick hug before heading over to Charlotte.
There was no negotiation. She was close enough to have heard some of our conversation, and she’d seen the bit with Sierra, besides. Whatever it was, it seemed to have grounded her. She didn’t look as uncertain as before, and she had one hand extended for me to shake.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Because really, you can leave the city.”
She shook her head, “My grandfather needs to stay. He’s spent the latter half of his life in his home, and I think it would kill him to leave.”
“If you’re sure,” I told her. She nodded.
I shook her hand.
* * *
“Grue?” I hollered into my lair, as Charlotte and I stepped inside. “Mask on! Got a guest here!”
Despite Lisa’s relatively cavalier attitude on the subject and my own concessions, there was no point in spoiling his secret identity, too.
“Right!” he called down from upstairs. In a moment, he came down the stairs, his helmet on. He stopped as he saw me, “What happened?”
“Bit of a scuffle.” I replied. I’d had a chance to see myself in the mirror. The bruise on my cheekbone had been a nice mottled yellow-green. I asked, “Any trouble?”
He shook his head. He wasn’t smothered in darkness, so his voice was normal as he said, “Quiet. Was your errand successful, at least?”
“Successful enough. This is Charlotte, one of my new… employees.” What was I supposed to call them? Henchmen, employees, minions?
“Already recruiting?” he whistled, low.
“Two new hires. The other girl’s going to be on her way in a while.”
“You’ve gotta slow down. I only heard what you’d done to take control here after I’d arrived. I was worried you’d provoked a war and left me to handle things, until Lisa told me the major threats were occupied elsewhere.”
“Sorry.”
“Seriously, you’re moving fast on this. Imp and I have only just started rooting out the gangs and other criminals in our territory. We haven’t even talked about who we’re going to recruit or how.”
“I’ll explain later?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Just… later.”
“I’m getting the feeling I’m in the way,” Charlotte spoke up, “Is there any place I can go to get out of your hair?”
“Kitchen, if you’re hungry, or—” I stopped as she practically lit up at the suggestion. I pointed at the kitchen, “Go. Take whatever, enjoy.”
It was gratifying to see her glee as she started rifling through the cabinets to find piles of stuff ranging from treats to dry pasta to cases of soda. Grue and I migrated to the empty room that had held the supply crates, where we were able to see Charlotte but not necessarily in earshot.
“If you’re pushing yourself this hard to prove yourself to me—”
“It’s not that.”
“Okay. But really, you don’t need to prove yourself. You know Tattletale just called me on the phone? Ten minutes ago?”
Ten minutes ago, I would’ve just left the doctor’s place, en route for my lair with Charlotte. I frowned. “What did she say?”
“Chewed me out big time, about how I was being too hard on you, after the… revelations at the hospital, about turning you down. Calling me a clod, basically.”
I felt a flush warm my ears. “I told her not to interfere.”
“Well, she did, and I think she was right to. I’ve been a bit hard headed.”
I shrugged. Couldn’t agree without offending him, but I didn’t disagree either. I’d been stubborn in my own ways too.
He asked, “So do you want to call it even? I said it before, but I thought maybe we could become best friends, somewhere down the line. I’d like to go there again, if you’re willing. If it’s not awkward or—”
I felt the flush deepen and hurried to interrupt him before he could bring up my asinine confession again, “It’s good. Yes. Let’s go with that.”
“Good.” He clapped one hand on my shoulder. A sign of camraderie, friendship, with the subtle effect of reinforcing that I was at arm’s length. Or was I reading too much into things?
I could live with it. It was worlds better than the quiet hostility and hurt I’d been sensing from him as of late.
“Is it cool if I drop by sometime?” he asked. “So we can keep each other up to date, or maybe just hang out?”
“Hanging sounds good,” I answered him, feeling lame as I said it.
“I’m gonna go sleep. Long day. You take care of yourself, alright?” he said by way of a goodbye as he headed for the door.
I nodded, “You too.”
When I walked over to the kitchen, Charlotte had a box of toaster strudels in one hand and a package of cookie dough in the other. She’d washed her face, and only trace amounts of the caked-on makeup were still there. She looked worlds younger, and was like a little kid as she asked me, “Can I use your oven?”
“Go for it. But I get some,” I smiled.
As my new minion set about figuring out the oven, I was able to stop for a moment. Doubts and insecurities still weighed on me, but I couldn’t feel guilty for not making more progress today. I’d done what I could to move forward on my plan to help Dinah. Both Lisa and Brian had acknowledged that I was making great strides forward, and that gave me hope that I might be impressing Coil as well.
Things weren’t perfect, but they were better. I was on speaking terms with Brian, I was making headway on my plans, Lisa was making headway on her end of things, and in some small way, I felt like I’d finally followed through with that dream I’d had at the start of the year, of being a superhero.
I was a villain. I’d given the order to let a man die. Maybe my abandonment of Thomas would weigh on my conscience more after I got some sleep and my thoughts were clearer. Maybe not. But I’d also done something to help people, without ulterior motives. I’d given Sierra her brother back, I’d saved Charlotte. I was happy about that.
All in all? If I didn’t think too hard about it? I could feel cautiously optimistic for the first time in a long while. For the first time in weeks, months, I could feel like everything just might work out.
Interlude 11a
A howl tore through the air. It wasn’t the howl one would expect from a dog. It was ragged, with a guttural undertone that hinted at the size of the one doing the howling.
Before the howl had even finished, more took up the cry in answer. A second howl, then a third. More joining in, all at once. Seven or eight.
Bentley raised his head and joined them, his tail wagging on his undersized hindquarters, almost prancing on the spot in his excitement. Water splashed around paws as wide around as bike tires as he landed, spraying Bitch.
His enthusiasm was infectious. She bared her teeth in a wide grin, then whooped, adding her voice to the cacophony. She hopped up his side, gripping ridges of hard muscle and bony growths so she could throw one leg over his other shoulder. A spike of bone scratched her upper thigh, beneath her skirt, but she didn’t care. It was nothing.
“Go, Bentley!” She urged him. He surged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
She could feel the heat of his body underneath her, the rippling movements of his muscles as he ran. She could smell him, like dog breath and the coppery tang of blood, that faint sweet smell of meat on the verge of going bad. She could smell herself, her body odor. She hadn’t washed in two days, but she liked her own smell. She liked that her belongings and her place all smelled like her.
It wasn’t that she wouldn’t take care of herself. She would, just like she took care of her dogs. Just as she groomed each of them twice a week or more, she would tend to herself. But what did some scruff on her legs matter when she was treading down flooded streets or caked in mud up to her knees half the time anyways? What did some body od
or mean, if she didn’t even like the people who were around to be offended by it?
Barker, Biter and the others would be at the locations she had assigned them. She had given them the most menial of tasks. Grooming the dogs, feeding the dogs, picking up shit, checking the dogs for sores, cuts, ear infections and ticks like she’d showed them. She had a good number of dogs in her care, now. Most had been taken from kennels that hadn’t been in a state to help the animals since Leviathan attacked. She was eagerly anticipating the moment someone complained.
Barker or Biter would be the ones to whine about the task first. They had powers. They had expected to be in charge, to be her lieutenants. The looks on their faces when she’d given them their tasks had made her day. Nothing like putting someone in their place.
If they didn’t complain by the time they were through checking and taking care of all of her dogs, maybe they would start when the next batch arrived from the shelters, and they were told they had to do all of those dogs on top of starting afresh with all the ones they had done before.
The moment someone did complain? Or if they let one tick, one rash or one ear infection slip? She could make an example of them. Humiliate them, scare them, insult them. If she did it well enough, they’d leave.
If she did it really well, they would all leave.
Then she could be alone for a while, alone with her dogs. Nobody would be able to nag her about the fact that she hadn’t given the henchman thing a try. Fuck it. She already had all of the assistance she needed. The best, most loyal kind.
Lucy appeared from a nearby street, making her excitement known with a noise that was half bark and half something else. She ran alongside Bentley.
“Good girl!” Bitch laughed, “Come on!”
Lucy responded by huffing out a noise that might have been a bark. Her footfalls splashed out of sync with Bentley’s, and they were soon joined by others. Ink, Magic, Roxy, Buddy, Bruno and Socks. None of the others were as large as Lucy and Bentley. This would be their first run. A taste of her power. She would give them a little more each time, keep an eye out for the ones who listened, give more training to the ones who needed to be kept in line by the bigger and more obedient dogs.
But this was her territory. Her space. Finally a place where she could do what she wanted. Here, she was free, and that meant she could be dirty. She could go where she wanted, hurt anyone who got in her face. She could roam free with her dogs and try her power on them without worrying about people getting hurt.
Which wasn’t to say that people wouldn’t get hurt, of course. Just that it was her territory, and she was allowed to make the call. Anyone who hadn’t gotten the message already deserved what they got.
Bentley and the rest of her pack drew towards the source of the howling. Sirius stood outside an apartment block, filling the evening with that mournful, haunting sound that carried through the air.
She hopped down from Bentley’s back, and used the back of her hand to wipe away some of the sweat, mucus and blood that had transferred from his back to her inner thigh. “Sirius! Good boy!”
He wagged his tail, and the tip of it made trails in the water.
“Sirius, guard!” she pointed toward the front door of the building. “Bentley! Guard!” She pointed at the little emergency exit at the side. The two dogs moved to their respective positions.
“Sit!” Her dogs all sat. She noted Magic was a little slower than the rest to obey. Would Magic have listened if the other dogs hadn’t been here? If she hadn’t been following along with the others? Bitch made a mental note.
“Stay…” she ordered, drawing out the word. She could see the group of dogs freeze.
She had a routine with her dogs. The first priority was making sure they were healthy. That meant grooming and possibly shaving them, getting their records and shots updated if they hadn’t come from the shelter, cleaning their ears, and ensuring they were kept away from the other dogs so she could check the color and consistency of their shit and track any changes. Shit revealed a lot about the dog it came from, from the obvious of diet to general health to mood. An unhappy dog had unhealthy shit.
The second step was training, and every dog got some dedicated attention. ‘Sit’ was the first command they learned, followed closely by ‘stay’, ‘off’, ‘fetch’ and ‘come’. Depending on the dog, it could take a couple of days before they had it down solid. These commands were absolutes. If a dog didn’t listen to each of those, it wasn’t allowed to go out, and it didn’t get any use of her power.
Once a dog had those commands down, it opened the door to other orders. A dog that would stay put while she demonstrated with another would be that much more inclined to follow suit.
If only humans were as reliable, as easy to train.
“Dogs, attack.” The word was quiet, but every dog present was waiting for it. Bentley and Sirius stayed at their positions, but the rest of the dogs surged into the building, the larger ones leaping through the boarded up windows, the smaller ones surging in the front door. Growls and barks that were twisted by the unnatural shapes of their throats overlapped into a single noise.
She waited outside the building, one hand on Bentley’s neck. He wanted to go, she knew it from the tension, but he was obedient. Good. This was a test for him.
Another howl sounded, far away, startling her. If her dogs were here with her… oh. Only one dog would be elsewhere. She listened as the howl came again. Yes. Angelica’s howl reflected her size and the degree to which Bitch had used her power on her. More than Bentley, Sirius and Lucy.
She whistled for them to come back, long and loud, and her dogs came tearing back through the building. She checked, and she couldn’t make out any blood that didn’t belong to the dogs. Good. Better to terrorize and inflict light wounds than to maim or murder. If the people in that building stayed in her territory, she would be surprised.
She climbed onto Bentley’s back, then whistled twice. Come.
A jerk of the chain collar around Bentley’s neck and a kick to his sides spurred him into action. The others followed, some yipping or barking with excitement.
Did other people experience anything close to this? Did Taylor, Brian, Lisa or Alec? She felt like she was one with Bentley as she caught quick breaths between his jarring footfalls. Water splashed onto her skin and his. Her legs pressed against his body, and she could feel the expansion and contraction as he huffed out breaths. She trusted him, and he trusted her absolutely in return. It varied from one dog to the next, but the same was true with the others that were following in Bentley’s wake. They believed in her, and if they didn’t love her yet, she knew it would come in time, with her patience and continued care of them. What did Lisa have that compared to that rush, this security? What did the others have?
Why, Bitch wondered, are they happier than me?
Unbidden, the answers came to mind.
She remembered living with her mother. She couldn’t even remember the woman’s face, but that was little surprise. Mom had worked anywhere from three jobs to none, but she spent little time in the apartment. When she was home, she was either drinking in her room or partying with friends. Little Rachel’s questions or attempts to get attention were met with anger, rejection. She would be pushed away or locked in her room. Better to stay quiet, watch for an opportunity. If her mother passed out drunk, bills could be taken from her wallet, secreted away for later purchases of bread, peanut butter and jam, milk and cereal or orange juice at the corner store. If there was a party, and if she was successful in keeping from getting underfoot, she could often snatch a bag of chips, a box of ribs or chicken wings, to eat under her bed or on the roof.
So she got by. Until the day her mother didn’t come home. The food in the cupboards had disappeared, even the cans of pineapple, pears and nuts in foul-tasting syrup that had been left behind by the apartment’s previous residents. Desperate, terrified to leave the apartment in case the fifteen minutes she spent looking for food were the same f
ifteen minutes her mother stopped by, she’d turned to trying to cook the rice, standing on a chair to reach the sink and stove-top. After pouring the rice into the water that had been sitting on the hot stove, she’d accidentally brought her arm down on the arm of the pot, and tipped it all over herself. In retrospect, it was a blessing that she hadn’t known that the water should be boiling. Still, it was hot enough to turn her skin pink and leave her screaming enough to drive the neighbors to call nine-one-one.
Then the foster homes. Home one, where the parents were kind, but lacked the patience to deal with a little girl who child protective services had labeled a borderline feral child. Her foster-sister there had been a mongoloid that stole things, breaking or ruining what she couldn’t take for herself. Rachel had responded the only option she could think of, attacking the girl who was three years older and fifty pounds heavier, leaving the girl bloody and sobbing.
They found a new home for her rather quickly, after that.
Home two, where the parents were not kind, and she had four foster siblings rather than the one. Three years there, a long series of lessons on what she’d done to the idiot sister from the first home, taught with the roles reversed. An education in violence of every kind.
Unable to keep the feelings bottled up within her, she screamed until she couldn’t breathe any longer. Then she took a deep breath and screamed again. Even though she screamed until it hurt, it was tiny and insignificant compared to everything she wanted to convey.
Home three had been the breaking point. Two foster siblings, a single foster-mother. She’d overheard her caseworker saying that the new foster-mother would be a disciplinarian, the only person that might be able to turn Rachel into a civilized human being. Bitch’s opinion, years later, was that this had been a retaliation, a punishment inflicted on her by the caseworker for the countless trips to school or the home to deal with Rachel.
She hadn’t believed that her foster mother could be more of a disciplinarian than her second set of foster parents. Realizing the nature of her situation had been unpleasant. The foster-mother brooked no nonsense, and had a keen eye for every failing and mistake on her children’s part, quick to punish, quick to correct. If one of her children spoke with their mouths full, she would snatch that child’s plate away and dispose of the contents into the trash can. Never the carrot, always sticks. Rachel was made to attend school, then after-school make up classes, with piano every other day, as if she couldn’t be bad if she didn’t have the time.
