“Do you make a habit of this, then? Defending outcasts.”
“I have a soft spot for damsels in distress.” Silver wrings out the cloth again and lays it against a rock to dry. “The last pretty woman I picked up was caught in the middle of a war zone: human versus Chimera. When I found her, she was naked, alone, and completely lost. My comrades wanted to kill her.”
“Why?”
“Because she was different.”
Recalling that—recalling her last damsel’s startlingly violet eyes which had seemed so terrifyingly strange all those years ago—Silver feels a pang of regret. Alice was treated so badly by so many people, over something that seems so insignificant now. How pathetically naïve they all were before the British army arrived, bringing the new virus—the human betterment package—with them.
“What happened to her?” Ria draws Silver back to the present.
In answer, Silver opts to give her the highly simplified version of a story that began with finding a mysterious, attractive woman who was nearly shot to death by the Hunter Division, and resulted in a romantic relationship that lasted for the entire duration of her banishment to the Fringe District.
“I shared a bed with her for six years.”
“Ah, so that explains why you seem so comfortable in the close company of another woman.” Ria’s heart thumps excitedly.
“I’ve had some practice.” Silver winks.
As she washes her hands in the lake and shakes the water off, the setting sun glints on her wedding ring, catching Ria’s attention.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re married?” she asks, trying to conceal a brief flutter of disappointment.
“Just about.”
“We’ve spent virtually the whole day together. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” This time, her blush is due to embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I’ve misread you terribly. I thought you were … oh, god. I didn’t realize.”
“You thought I was what?” Silver fishes for her to say it. Gay? Flirting?
“Never mind,” Ria brushes it off, mentally chastising herself for having mistaken Silver’s kindness for something greater. “I was being foolish, that’s all.”
Suddenly realizing that Alex’s anger back at the dandelion lawn in Stretford might not have been the scowl of a homophobe, but that of a jealous spouse, Ria tests out a new conclusion.
“Is he your husband?” She tips her head to Alex.
Silver glances over her shoulder, finding him still tending to Linx on the other side of the lake.
“What gave it away? All the passive aggressive hostility?”
“You’re not on good terms?” Ria does her best to keep her voice neutral.
“I pissed him off.”
“By helping me?”
“By not letting him fuck me the other night.”
Shocked by Silver’s unexpected openness and brutal honesty, Ria drops eye contact.
“Now I’ve offended you,” Silver assumes, accepting that it was probably only a matter of time.
“No, but I think your wild tongue is going to take some getting used to.”
“You’re not the first woman to tell me that.” Silver grins, draping her arm casually over Ria’s lap.
A fire creeps back into Ria’s cheeks. She’s used to hiding cautious flirtation behind layers of innuendo and double-speak. To hear another woman make such an uncensored, casual quip has her instantly flustered and utterly incapable of concealing it.
“Are you always so blunt?”
“I’m crude.”
“You speak your mind, and there’s nothing wrong in that.”
“Good, then I should tell you that you’re not being foolish. I think you’re reading me pretty well.” She holds Ria’s eyes. “And I think I’m reading you pretty well, too.”
Ria feels the fire in her face again, but she doesn’t shy from it. She doesn’t look away, and she certainly doesn’t retreat. Instead, she edges her hand over her lap, sliding her fingers tentatively over Silver’s.
Bubbles.
Silver’s attention is diverted from Ria at the last second, watching another succession of air bubbles rise and pop on the surface of the lake.
And it’s not a farting fish.
It’s something much, much worse.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fearful of being watched, Ria glances around to make sure that nobody’s paying any attention. Mason is still hunting, Carmen and Luka are still together in the clearing, and the others—Alex, Bold and Tomkin—are fussing over Linx’s elbow, trying to bind it to limit movement while it heals.
Satisfied that they have some modicum of privacy for a brief time, Ria very slowly weaves her fingers between Silver’s, increasing their physical contact millimeter by millimeter until … Silver pulls away, her eyes turned to the lake.
Confused by Silver’s sudden recoil, Ria draws back. “What’s the matter?”
Silver watches the surface of the lake carefully, waiting for more movement. “This is terrible timing.”
“I’m sorry, I thought—”
“No, no, no.” Silver kisses Ria’s hand. “Not you. Everything you did was perfect, and I want you to hold on tight to that thought, okay? It was a good thought.”
“So why did you—?”
Ria cuts herself short when Silver retrieves Trevor’s gun from the back of her pants.
“Do you know how to use one of these?” Silver holds it out to her.
“Actually, yes.”
“Good.” Silver hauls her up off the rock. “I want you to move away from the edge of the lake and keep this gun in your hand.”
“Why?”
“In case you feel that your safety is threatened.” Silver moves her back against a boulder near the trees.
“Threatened by what?”
Right on cue, something comes up out of the lake. It’s larger than a man, and it has thick, veiny, gray skin. It rises up on two muscular legs, snorts, and bares its teeth. The face of the creature is Chimeran—human-shaped, with violet eyes and a pig-like nose—but this animal is definitely not all Chimera.
It doesn’t have ears, but looks like it might have gills. The pointed talons on its hands are retractable, and it flicks them out as it wades toward the lakeshore. Stepping into shallower water, its tail becomes visible: thick, long, and covered with razor sharp scales.
It sets its eyes on Linx and she screams.
Ria holds her breath.
“Threatened by that.” Silver points at it. “I’ll be right back.”
Before Ria clues in to what’s happening, Silver runs toward the lake, leaps off a rock near the shoreline, and slams into the creature’s chest, knocking it back into deeper water. The two disappear beneath the surface, and after a while, the lake becomes dreadfully still.
Linx is still screaming, though Alex is dragging her to safety, trying to shut her up. Carmen and Luka—who missed the creature’s dramatic entrance—amble slowly toward the lake, oblivious to the danger. Bold runs to get his bow, but nerves impede his ability to properly latch the bowstring into the nock.
Starting to fear that Silver’s been under the water for far too long, panic begins to set in for Ria. While she’s frozen to the spot, scanning the lake for any signs of life, Alex pulls off his shirt, draws his gun, and prepares to dive in. But then …
Air bubbles up from the depths, followed by a gush of blood that turns the water deep red, and he hesitates, not sure if he’s just witnessed the death of his pregnant wife.
His fears are compounded when the creature appears again, shrieking, heaving itself out of the water and onto dry land. It plows straight into him, barreling him into the grass and knocking the gun from his hand.
The creature is bleeding profusely.
Alex punches it about the face, trying to keep its oversized incisors from sinking into the meat of his neck, blood splashing over the lush green grass.
Bold finally gets an arrow drawn, but doesn’t have a clear shot. Luka and
Carmen pull their guns, but have the same problem.
Then, the surface of the water ripples and bubbles again, and Silver emerges with her hunting knife clenched in her hand. Her shoulder is oozing blood from the old arrow wound, but she seems otherwise uninjured. She steps out of the water and stomps on the creature’s tail, stealing its attention away from Alex.
“Hey, you fugly sonofabitch. I wasn’t done.”
When she steps off its tail, it rises back up onto two legs, finally giving Bold a chance to fire. Two arrows slam rapidly into the creature’s back, but they have little effect.
The creature barely flinches.
It takes one step toward Silver, and she flies at it without fear. She throws kicks and punches so fast, Ria can’t make heads nor tails of the flailing limbs. At one point, Silver manages to get her knife in it, but there’s so much blood she loses her grip on the handle. When she finally succeeds in getting the creature off its feet, it takes her down with it, falling to the ground.
Landing on its back—with Silver’s weight on its chest—Bold’s arrows are forced all the way through its body, almost touching Silver. It gurgles, blood burbling from its mouth, but still it doesn’t die.
Maneuvering herself into a kneeling position, Silver pulls her knife out of the creature’s side and slams the blade into its skull, right between its eyes, killing it instantly.
Its arms fall limply into the grass.
Its tail stops twitching.
“Fuck you, asshole.” Silver yanks her knife back, the blade coated with blood and fragments of brain matter.
Now that it’s dead, Linx is suddenly very brave. She walks right up to it and kicks the side of its face. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“I have.” Silver sits back, catching her breath. “And now I know where it came from.”
A year ago, when she and Alex were on their honeymoon, she’d found one of these creatures roaming about the outskirts of Amaranthe. Initially, Alex thought she’d lost her mind, or eaten some poisonous berries and hallucinated it. Luka accused her of drinking, while the owner of the campsite where they were staying—an old military colleague—assumed she was on drugs.
It wasn’t until another guest at the campsite was killed by the thing that any one of them started taking her seriously, and even then, they didn’t quite believe it until they saw it for themselves.
Once it was dead, they came to the conclusion that it was some kind of one-off mutant—and they’d no reason to think otherwise. They’d never seen anything like it before, nor did they see anything like it again.
Until now.
Close by in the grass, Alex sits up and retrieves his gun. His chest and shoulders—glistening with lake water—are covered in minor scratches from the creature’s talons, but it’s nothing serious.
Bold puts down his bow and turns to Tomkin. “Did you see that shit?!”
Luka starts telling Carmen all about the first one of these they’d encountered, still tragically hoping to woo her, while Ria stuffs Trevor’s gun into the back of her kicksies and rushes to Silver’s side.
“You’re hurt.” She helps Silver to her feet.
Silver gives her shoulder injury a cursory glance, but thinks little of it. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” Alex comes to her aid, keen to displace Ria.
“Don’t,” Silver cautions him. “Stay back. You’re bleeding, too.”
Persisting with her inspection, unaware that she’s pushing Alex’s nose out of joint, Ria unbuttons Silver’s dripping wet shirt halfway and tugs it open, exposing part of the skintight white camisole beneath. Then, she hooks a finger under the camisole strap and slips it off Silver’s shoulder to get a better look at the damage, mindful not to accidentally touch any part of her breast.
“What happened to you?” she asks, peeling back the soggy, blood-soaked bandage.
“Delta greeting.”
The wound is angry, and bleeding profusely.
“Let me tend to you.” Ria directs her toward the clearing—their campsite for the night. “I have an arnica salve in my bag, and perhaps something to dress it with.”
Watching them retreat alone into the cover of the trees, Ria’s hand on Silver’s back, Alex clenches his jaw, his violet eyes shimmering with anger.
“I’m not afraid of your blood.” Linx gathers her wits and appears beside him, eager to help. “I can clean you up if you’d like.”
Alex takes his eyes off the trees, turning to see Linx with a broad smile and a handkerchief, ready to dab at his cuts and scrapes. Exhausted, and not in the mood to argue, he sits himself down on a rock and lets Linx see to him as she pleases.
Meanwhile, Ria grabs her bag off Fitch’s back and Silver borrows a towel from Carmen—the only person who thought to bring one.
“Let’s go somewhere private,” Ria suggests. “I don’t want everyone giving me dirty looks while I lay my hands on you.”
Silver doesn’t need much encouragement. She scrunches lake water out of her hair, dries off her face and neck with the towel—careful not to get any of her blood on it—and follows Ria into the forested area beside the campsite.
Out of sight from the rest of the group, Ria sits her down on the trunk of a fallen tree and kneels on the soft grass in front of her.
“I need you to take your shirt off.”
“I’m sure you do,” Silver teases.
She unfastens the rest of the buttons and shirks the wet rag off, wringing it out on the forest floor before setting it beside her on the log.
Ria tries not to stare, exploiting her peripheral vision to absorb every detail. Silver’s wet camisole is semi-translucent and clinging to her body, hugging her feminine curves like another layer of skin, and the temptation to touch her is almost unbearable. At this moment, Ria would give anything to feel the weight of her breasts, the dip of her waist, or to dig her nails into those perfectly proportioned hips.
Keeping her hands busy, she reaches for her bag and dumps the contents out on the ground: a hairbrush, some hair ties, cotton balls, a makeup case, a dress, two pairs of stockings tied in a bow, a pair of lacy undies, an even lacier bra, a corset, a red silk ribbon, some feminine hygiene products, a silk chemise, a tin of arnica salve, a bottle of water, and some other odds and ends.
Silver hooks the corset on her index finger and holds it up, admiring the red satin, black lace, and little black bows around the hem.
“Wow.”
Ria blushes, but forces herself not to behave too shyly. “Do you like it?”
Silver imagines Ria’s generous breasts laced into the form-fitting fabric, and renders her decision instantly.
“It’s beautiful.” She keeps her eyes on Ria, paying the corset no attention at all, making it perfectly clear that the compliment is intended, not for the garment itself, but rather for the woman she wants to see in it.
She lets the corset slip off her finger, then picks up the lacy undies instead. “These are pretty awesome, too.”
Ria swipes them from her. “Stop ogling my undergarments.” She plants a hand on Silver’s breast bone and pushes her back. “Now sit still.”
She wants to sound stern, but the hint of a smile on her lips gives her away; she likes that Silver’s interest was piqued by her lingerie.
Returning to the task at hand, she removes the soggy bandage completely—back and front—douses one of the cotton balls in water from the bottle, then uses it to clean Silver’s torn flesh. After, she applies some arnica salve to the tip of her finger and works it gently in and around the damaged skin.
“This should numb the pain.”
Whether it’s a result of the cool evening breeze, or an effect of Ria’s touch, Silver’s nipples stiffen visibly, showing through the sheer fabric of the camisole. The sight sparks another fantasy for Ria, and she imagines scooping Silver’s breasts into her hands, sucking the firm buds into her mouth …
“Are you okay?”
Silver
’s voice jolts her back to reality.
“Hmm?”
“You look distracted.”
“Not a bit.” Ria finishes up quickly with the arnica, wiping her finger off on another cotton ball. “This’ll have to do for now”—she changes the subject without pause, holding up a sanitary pad—“but you need to get a proper dressing on it soon.”
Silver drops her jaw, aghast as Ria takes the pad out of its packaging, withdraws a small pair of scissors from her makeup case, and cuts it in half.
“You’re not seriously going to bandage my shoulder with a period pad, are you?”
“It’s all I’ve got, and it’s better than nothing.”
Silver looks skeptical, watching Ria slap the two halves of the pad against her entry and exit wounds. It looks ridiculous.
“Don’t be such a baby.” Ria fixes the pad in place by tying a stocking around it. “If we don’t cover it, I’m afraid it’ll get infected.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Having noticed something earlier, while they were flirting beside the lake, Ria upturns Silver’s left hand, baring a jagged scar running straight across her palm.
“This?” She traces her fingers over it.
“And more.” Silver draws her hand back and lifts the hem of her camisole, coaxing Ria to explore beneath. “Go on. Put your hands up my shirt.”
Never once breaking eye contact, Ria edges her fingers under the cotton and tiptoes her way over Silver’s firm stomach, finding a scar that begins near her hip and extends upward, over her stomach and ribcage, almost to her chest.
“What did this to you?” Ria’s voice is scarcely louder than a whisper, her tactile exploration of Silver’s bare skin becoming more of a mental mapping than a quest for details about her personal history.
Silver doesn’t seem to mind. She leans back against the trunk of the tree, allowing Ria’s fingers to wander wherever they please.
“That creature by the lake …”—she has no name for it—“I’ve killed thousands of his cousins.”
Ria’s touch lingers, pressing her palms against Silver’s taut abdominal muscles, feeling the strength and power in her form.
Lex Talionis Page 16
