by wildbow
“You think I’d back you up?” The question was a challenge, brusque, barely-but-not-quite-anger.
“Don’t know. Does it matter?” I glanced at Brian. He was paying attention to what I was saying. I felt momentarily self-conscious, struggled to find words that wouldn’t provoke a negative response from one of them. I settled for a middle ground as I thought aloud. “Life’s not fair. It’s not even, not balanced, not right. Why should relationships between people be any different? There’s always going to be an imbalance in power. The other person might have a higher social standing, they might have money, or more social graces. Isn’t it better to stop stressing about quid pro quo and just do what you want or what you can?”
“Words,” Bitch dismissed me.
“Words, sure. I’ll make it simple, then. I consider you a friend, I’ll help you when stuff goes down. And you… do whatever you think is right. Do what you want to do. I won’t stress about it, and unless you fuck with me like you did when we fought Dragon, I’m not going to hold it against you.”
She set her jaw, clearly irritated at the reminder. Whatever. I’d needed to make my point.
If she had been intending to give me a response, I didn’t hear it. Lisa ventured back into the room, and all eyes turned to her. She held her hand over the lower half of the phone.
“For those of you who haven’t been in contact with Coil, we ended up locking Cherish in an overturned boat’s hold in the Boat Graveyard. She’s there now, with food and water, totally isolated, several layers of confinement, including but not limited to chains. She wants to strike a deal, in exchange for details on Siberian and the Nine.”
“Letting her go? No,” Brian said.
“Not what she wants. She just wants a chance to talk to us,” Lisa looked at each of us in turn. “Two minutes to address us, and then she dishes out the dirt, gives us the location on the Nine, the details on Siberian and answers any other questions.”
“Nothing saying she’ll tell the truth,” Alec said.
“And she’s in a position to say stuff that could create doubt or tension in our ranks,” Trickster pointed out.
“True,” Lisa conceded. “But here’s the thing. I’m getting the vibe she wants us to turn her down, so we’ll figure out the real scoop later and regret it.”
“What, you mean something like Siberian being here? ‘Don’t you wish you’d asked me to tell you where she was, because she’s standing fifteen feet away from you’?” Alec asked. “Yeah, that sounds like my sister.”
“How sure are you?” Brian asked Lisa.
“That there’s more to it? Seventy five percent, to ballpark it.”
“Bad idea,” Brian said. I found myself nodding in agreement.
Lisa raised the phone to her ear. “Nope. Don’t suppose we can change your mind?”
There was a pause before Lisa hung up. “Eighty-five percent sure there’s more to this story than she’s letting on. She was all too okay with saying goodbye for someone chained up in a hot metal prison cell. That, or she thinks we’re going to call back.”
Sundancer spoke up, “Can’t we? What are we really risking, here? I mean, what’s at stake? The worst case scenario, if we let her talk?”
“Can’t say, can we?” Lisa said. She tossed the phone in the air and then caught it. “Say one of us has something to hide that Cherish could reveal to the others. Nobody’s about to admit it.”
There were glances all around.
“But I think I have an idea.” Lisa smiled. It was her old smile. The scar was there, but it no longer pulled her mouth into a perpetual half-frown. “Brian, got any books here? Or magazines?”
“Upstairs. Aisha, go grab something. Any book on the floor of my room.”
“Why—” She hesitated when she met his eyes. “Whatever.”
It was a minute before Aisha ventured back downstairs with a novel. It looked like a suspense thriller.
“Here’s the deal. Everyone closes their eyes. We close our eyes while the others take their turns tearing a page out of the book. The higher the page number, the worse our inner thoughts and secrets. The last page, Uh, three hundred and fifty-five, we’ll say, is the worst of the worst. Unforgiveable to the point that someone here would kill you and the rest would be okay with it.”
She rifled through the pages of the book, “Anything below one hundred and fifty, it’s tolerable. Stuff we’d be ashamed for others to know, but we’d be okay with them knowing for the greater good. We each stuff it in between the couch cushions, until we’ve got a crumpled mess and none of us know who tore out which page. If we’re more or less safe, if the numbers aren’t too high and we think we can stand to have Cherish dish out the dirt on the others, we’ll take her up on the deal.”
Nobody disagreed with the plan, but I supposed that doing so would look bad. I closed my eyes as we went around the room, until Lisa tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the book.
Where did I stand? What secrets was I keeping, and how highly did I value them?
I had my deal with Coil, with the real possibility that I might wind up his adversary. Lisa knew that, as did Brian, but the others didn’t. I suspected that Aisha could be convinced to roll with it when Brian did, so long as we didn’t push too hard. Alec and Bitch would go with the majority. The Travelers? They had other stakes in this. That was more dangerous.
One-sixty. I tore it out and stuck it in the couch, sat down and handed the book to Lisa.
It took another minute for the rest to decide.
“So, in order… twenty-six, one-twenty-two, one-forty, one-forty-one, one-fifty-five, one-sixty, one-seventy-five, two hundred twenty-two, and three-twenty-five.”
Three-twenty-five?
“That’s a no, then?” Brian asked.
“Something like that,” Lisa replied. She picked up the phone and dialed.
“What are you doing?” Trickster asked. “You said we wouldn’t go ahead if we didn’t all agree.”
“You’re right. But I’m going to try to haggle with her,” Lisa replied. “Hello? Yeah, you already know the answer. No-go. Uh-huh. Sure. What if I asked for the Travelers to leave? You could address the rest of us. You and I both know you’re doing this to sate your boredom than for any grander purpose.”
There was a pause.
“Good.” Lisa put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Does that really work?” Trickster asked. “What if we wanted to keep stuff from you? She could tell you while we’re out of the room.”
“Do you want to keep anything particular from us?”
He shook his head. “But how do you know your teammates didn’t pick the high numbers?”
“I don’t,” Lisa flipped through the pages. “But just going by what I know about our groups, I think our team is going to be more concerned about what outsiders think. You guys are going to be more concerned about what your teammates think. Am I wrong?”
Nobody spoke.
“We could do another blind vote,” she suggested. “In case anyone wants to say they’re not cool with these new terms.”
“Speaking as the person who took two-twenty-two, I really don’t care all that much,” Alec said. “I picked a higher number because I thought it would bother those guys. I figure my team knows enough.”
“Exactly as I said before,” Lisa said. “Anyone else have any major objections?”
I shook my head. I could deal with the team knowing about my plan. If things went south, they’d find out anyways.
The Travelers made their exit, Shatterbird came inside to stand guard by the door, and the rest of us settled down. Lisa dialed and put her cell on speaker phone. It rang twice before Cherish answered.
“Finally,” her voice came through the line.
“Your two minutes start now,” Lisa spoke.
“I should get four, since I’m dealing with only one group.”
“One minute, fifty-five seconds,” Lisa replied.
“Where should I start? Hey
, little brother. Want me to tell them the sort of things you really did when you were back home?”
“It’s sort of tedious,” Alec replied.
“I wonder. Rape culture is a funny thing. People gloss over some pretty shitty, creepy, wrong behavior, little brother, when they know the person in question. But you raise the reality of what they’re doing, and it’s a whole lot harder to shrug it off.”
Rape. It was a loaded word, but Cherish was right. She was a horrible person, to be sure, but she was right. Did I really want to face what Regent had done, before we knew him? Rape. Murder. He’d said, this very morning, that he’d done what he did because he’d been young, but that was just an excuse. The deeds were still done, the consequences very real.
“You’re really one to talk, Cherie. You’ve done what I’ve done, many times over.”
“I’m not pretending anything. I am what I am, I don’t put on a facade,” Cherish retorted.
“That’s a blatant lie. If you showed your true nature to the world at large, your face would be too ugly to look at.”
“Ouch,” Cherish layered on the sarcasm. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. You’re delaying me, so I have less time to work with. Why don’t I get started? Let’s talk about your first kill? Gang member, a kid. You used him to kill his boss. His older brother, in fact. Because daddy wanted you to. Then dad ordered you to kill him. But you didn’t make it fast, did you? You made him stab himself with a fork, over and over, and over…”
“Keeping in mind that I was hanging out with you and the dirty old man and our brothers and sisters. Nature and nurture, I was kind of fucked on both fronts. It was a matter of self-preservation to keep you guys entertained, and that was the sort of thing you liked. Sorry, like, present tense.”
“Maybe, maybe. And the drugs? When daddy had you practicing your powers, you ‘hijacked’ a few people at a time, used their bodies to get high with no consequences for you, you threw orgies for yourself…”
“Again. I was a kid.”
“How much does that excuse?”
There was a pause. I looked at Alec, and he rolled his eyes at me. Was he like Brian? His emotions buried deep inside? Or were they simply not there?
“What about darkness-boy? Want to talk about what happened yesterday?”
I clenched my fists. Lisa raised a hand, telling me to stop.
“You’re running low on time, Cherie,” Alec said.
“I’m happy for the chance to talk. Bonesaw’s alive, you know. She has hands, borrowed from Mannequin. She’s plotting what she’s going to do to Grue. Think about that. She’s going to take him apart, and it’ll hurt worse the second time around, because she makes that sort of thing a matter of personal pride. She’s thinking about it, daydreaming on the subject, and she’s a smart enough cookie that she’ll figure it out.”
Brian turned his back on the phone, staring out the window. I wanted to reach out to him, to help ease the weight that idea must have set on his shoulders, somehow.
“Bitch, you know that Skitter’s going to betray you again. Look at her. She prides herself on being smart, and you know the best way for someone to make themselves feel smart? They make others look stupid, and you’re the stupidest person she has access to.”
I tensed. I would have been lying if I hadn’t said I hadn’t seen something along these lines coming, but it ultimately depended on Bitch’s reaction.
“I fucking hate people who try to manipulate me,” Bitch growled. “Next time I see you, I’m knocking your teeth in.”
There was a pause.
“Ah well,” Cherish said.
“And your time is up,” Alec said. “So, now’s the point where you fuck us over and don’t say a thing.”
“Why would I do that? I want you to deal with the Nine. You killed Burnscar, didn’t you? If you dealt with Siberian, life would be a lot easier for me.”
“So we’re right?” Lisa leaned forward. “There’s a weakness. She has a real body somewhere?”
“She does. Right now it’s actually not too far from you.”
Fifteen feet away. I remembered Alec’s joke.
“Near that hole the Endbringer made,” Cherish said. “Both of them, the real Siberian and the body.”
“You know what she looks like?”
“He. A man. Middle aged or older. Unkempt. Doesn’t eat much, probably thin.”
That wasn’t what I would have expected.
“Right now? Siberian’s chasing down one of the candidates. She’s taken on the next round of testing. Simple test. Hunt them down and if she catches you, you fail. She eats you alive as punishment. Wonder how many she can knock off before you take him down. If you take him down.”
“Who’s she after? We gotta know.”
“No you don’t. Way I figure it, you go into the fight blind, you still stand a pretty good chance of offing her. No skin off my back if a few of you die in the process.”
“You need enough of us alive to deal with the rest of the Nine.”
“Maybe, maybe,” Cherish taunted us with her tone. “But shouldn’t you hurry? The hero is going to die.”
It was Panacea or Armsmaster. Both were complicated. Panacea wouldn’t be able to defend herself, but Armsmaster was a whole mess of complications.
We hurried to get suited up. My mask in ruins, I wrapped a scarf around my lower face and covered it with bugs. I drew them around my eyes to hide the frames of my glasses.
As I finished up, I glanced at Bitch. Her knuckles were white, her posture rigid.
She was pissed.
I made sure I had all my gear, then joined the rest in filing out. Grue and Tattletale were the last out the door.
Glancing back to check on Grue, finding his posture and expressions unreadable beneath his darkness and costumes, I caught a glimpse of Tattletale messing with one of the pouches on her belt. The pages we’d torn from the book were folded into a tight square, and she was pocketing them for later study. She saw me looking.
“You going to be okay with this?” she asked me. “You’re the best equipped to find Siberian’s real body and stop her. Him. Them.”
“I’ll deal somehow.”
Prey 14.2
Amy Dallon ran for her life. It wasn’t the kind of run one saw in marathons or anything like that. It was mindless, panicked, like a herd animal in a stampede. She took the easiest and most obvious paths available to her, stumbling as often as not, her sole and all-consuming purpose being to put distance between herself and her pursuer. Her left hand was cradled against her chest, the very ends of her pinky, ring and middle fingers missing. Was that intentional? Harming the healing hands?
Siberian didn’t even have to run to keep up. The chase was something she’d honed into an art. Amy had to run around buildings, hurdle over piles of debris, and climb fences. Siberian anticipated her movements, pushed through walls of stone, brick, wood and plaster as though they were tissue paper and ultimately took the shortest, most direct paths. If Amy happened to get a little too far away, Siberian would use a short hop to cross half a city block, often crashing through a wall or the side of a truck in the process.
She could have closed the gap and gotten her hands on Amy at any moment, but she didn’t. She was a cat with its prey, and Amy didn’t have anything that could help her get away. Amy ran and created some distance, getting just far enough that she might think she’d escaped, then Siberian would appear in front of her, or to one side. It happened once, twice, then three times. Each time, Siberian drew closer.
The fourth time she closed the distance, she leaped up to a spot behind Amy and caught hold of Amy’s wrist. Amy jerked as the hold interrupted her forward momentum. She screamed, her legs buckling under her.
Siberian took her time, grabbing at Amy’s other wrist, then prying at her fingers. Three were already missing segments, and Siberian seized the index finger. Slowly, inexorably, she guided the finger to her mouth, her lips parting. Amy thrashe
d, but couldn’t free herself from Siberian’s grip.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Sundancer asked. Her hand trembled as she lowered the binoculars. I wasn’t sure how useful Sundancer was going to be, on several levels. Our group consisted of Trickster, Grue, Tattletale, Sundancer and myself, with two of Bitch’s dogs to get us from A to B. The seven of us were gathered behind the wall of a ruined building, a considerable distance from Siberian.
I glanced at Grue. He was tense, rigid enough that I could see his stillness through the darkness. Anything I’d say to him would hurt more than it helped. I turned my attention back to Amy and Siberian, looking through the binoculars. Instead of addressing Grue, I told Sundancer, “Nothing we can do. But I think Siberian is going to—”
As if she’d heard, Siberian closed her mouth. Amy recoiled with her whole body, pulling away, and Siberian let her go, giving her a little push. As her quarry stumbled and started to run, Siberian simply stood there, waiting.
She wanted to give Amy a head start.
Amy wasn’t bleeding as much as she should have been. I knew she couldn’t use her power to affect herself, or this fight would be playing out much differently. But maybe she was using her power to affect microbes on her hands? Changing them into something that could breed, coagulate, and staunch the wounds?
It was what I’d be doing.
But I’d also be trying to use microbes to form some kind of defense. I’d be reaching out for algae or other plant life I could use to obscure my retreat. Something to produce an opaque gas, to block line of sight or give me hiding places. Amy had far, far more versatility than I did, and I had little doubt she’d be able to mimic my power with a little time for preparation. With some forethought, preparation and strategic thinking, she was capable of holding her own, getting away. She had so much potential.
But Amy Dallon wasn’t that sort of person. She hadn’t gravitated toward front-line combat, nor had she gotten in any real fights, to the best of my knowledge. When Leviathan had hit the city, she’d stayed behind to give medical care instead of using her power against him. Now she was panicking, up against an unstoppable enemy and an inevitable fate, and she didn’t have the tools, mental or otherwise, to hold her own. Siberian would catch her and release her over and over, taking her apart piece by piece. Eventually the blood loss would mean Amy couldn’t run any more.
