Vargr

by Cari Silverwood

  So close to coming herself, riding a wave that ran up to the edge and pulled back, then washed up again… it had plusses. Though she heard herself quietly beg with that naughty word, please, and squirmed her ass about on the wall, he only kissed her, full-on over her messy mouth, their tongues tangling, breath mingling. Then he whispered the word, no.

  He pulled her up and soaped her instead, washing her clean, though she was still in a euphoric haze of yearning for him and for his cock inside her, ramming into her, taking her. So she stayed silent and let him do that thing she’d developed a craving for—him manhandling her.

  Fucking superb.

  She’d revive her badass bitch later. Much later.

  Chapter 13

  Getting dressed meant finding new clothes, since her goth dress was soaked. Cyn dug through the bed pile and found a little red dress and white leggings. While trying to seem blasé about what had just happened, she slipped the dress on then began on the leggings.

  She should remember her prime directive—find out who she was, or once had been… whatever. It was one of those.

  She peeked at Vargr. Really though, sex was making being awake and alive again far more interesting.

  When she stood to roll the leggings over her butt, Vargr sneaked up behind her. She spun and tried to wriggle from his grasp. He only locked her to him, trapping her wrists at the middle of her back and bending her for a kiss that melted her bones and lasted way too long.

  Breath on breath, skin to skin. Kisses were so intimate.

  She was gasping when it ended, her mouth tingling, her nipples visibly poking up through the material of the dress. Bras her size were not among the clothing. She served him an arched eyebrow.

  His hands shifted to her ass then lower, sneaking under the back of the leggings, his fingers cruising along her slit in her new wetness.

  “Hmmm. Next time don’t mock me, if you want me in your pants.”

  “Noted.” She squirmed against him and his fingers. Not the most passionate of answers, but her badass bitch side was currently napping, and he had hold of her butt. It felt good. She rustled up a denial. “Not that I did, want you.”

  “Liar.” He kissed her again, murmuring. “You are so fucking wet, right now. I could put you on that bed on your back and you’d spread your legs and beg.” He played with her mouth with his thumb, drawing a line around it surprisingly gently.

  True. But she wasn’t admitting it. If this was bond-mating doing its thing, she was going to do her best to deny it every single time. This was not love. It was fucking at its dirtiest.

  “Ummm. Isn’t this council deciding whether to dispose of me? Should I be thinking of an exit strategy?”

  That made him rethink. He drew away, sighed.

  “If they choose that, I will leave the tribe, take you into the lower stories while we figure out what to do. Maybe another tribe would have you.” There was doubt in his eyes, though, and a small line creasing between them.

  He released her. “I’ll take you down to the other humans now, but I won’t go far. I’ll sleep nearby.”

  How could he stand against his entire tribe? She needed her own plan. “Why did you bring me here, if you’re afraid they won’t let me live?”

  “Because. This is my tribe. This isn’t a time when living alone is safe.”

  “It never was, was it?”

  People had once preyed on loners even in the middle of thriving cities. Laws deterred the lawful. Laws existed because without them people did bad things to each other.

  “Maybe. It’s worse though. Find a bear on your street, or a tiger, and in the past that was a one in a million rarity. Now it’s a certainty you’ll run into something bigger than you, if you live out there for more than a few weeks. We all need each other, Cyn. No matter how self-reliant you pretend to be.”

  Oh, but I’m not pretending. Wait and see.

  Cyn put her hand to her throat, where her pulse was pounding. She was sure it was the truth.

  Somehow.

  * * * * *

  Vargr found the gym and left her. He would be just outside the door, he’d told her. Presumably he feared to prejudice her case by sleeping in here. Or maybe he had a better bed. She sighed. Vargr was nice. He probably did think this was for the best.

  Well nice except for when he pinned her down and whispered dirty things, or even better did dirty filthy things to her. Mmm.

  The gym had once been used for recreation and sweating, now it was a cage for the few humans the tribe had kept. These nine people were all that was left after the mass exodus to the top floor and the leftovers had been bondmated. Five men, four women. All of them over sixty years, she guessed. They’d have been a mere snack for a Ghoul Lord, but what hope did they have here?

  Cyn surveyed them from where she sat, arms about her knees, on one of the mattresses that were scattered over the floor. From her ankle, the chain undulated to a strut on a weight-lifting bench. Vargr had fastened it to her. To her amusement, it wasn’t locked, same as before. Anyone could undo this. Anyone lucid.

  None of these others were. Nine people who stared into space and occasionally stood up and strained to walk toward the door which two beasters guarded. She was sure they’d stop her if she tried to get past them. She’d pretend to be clueless about undoing hooks, unless some opportunity arrived.

  The night trickled past, and she slept at most an hour before she woke to the guards hustling everyone to rise. Ignoring her questions, apart from a barked “Sunshine time!” they herded her and the nine ordinary humans out the door. There, Vargr joined them. Like herders of slow-moving, ornery cats, the guards had to constantly shout and push to keep people in line.

  Vargr took her hand for a moment, and she found herself smiling at him.

  The humans were constantly doing the opposite of what was required.

  Not cats, she decided, these were more like placid zombies who only snarled and attacked when provoked.

  How they did the bathroom arrangements? The zombie apocalypse would never have entailed figuring out the toilet training of zombies. With millions missing, on the journey here she and Vargr had used one of the million un-owned bathrooms when they’d needed to. Though the devices didn’t flush anymore, Vargr had told her they’d run out of clean toilets in about another five hundred years.

  Totally a guess, of course, but she’d decided she too would forget to worry about poop. The Ghoul Lords had seemed more worrisome, and still were. Poop and pee came about three thousandth on her list of troubles, after the lack of Hollywood gossip, and whether her teeth were white enough.

  After they left through the front entry to the hotel, the guards shepherded everyone into a sharp turn and headed in the opposite direction to where she and Vargr had come from.

  “Where are we going?” she asked Vargr.

  “Sun-time for the humans. So we’re going to an edge that isn’t too exposed. Without sun humans get diseases.”

  “Uh-huh.” She did remember that. “Where did Dog go?”

  “He’s here still. I think he’s found someone else to feed him. So long as he stays away from Toother, he’s better here than on his own. Toother is the nanodog Orm tamed and claims to ride.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “You’ll know Toother if you see him. Hate to imagine how many soup cans he eats a day. Or clean-up detail.”

  “Ew.”

  He grinned at her.

  The edge they went to on this Mercantor Quarter building was on the same story as the hotel entrance. She hadn’t yet asked which story this was. Did it matter? It was a long way down, and if you fell, you died, unless a wing-soldier grabbed you. The fiftieth story, at least.

  She perched herself on the ledge with the others where a high glass partition kept one from falling into the void. Across the way was another scraper, silent, dilapidated, and covered in glasslike panels, out of which about half were smashed. Though the ledge was beneath an overhang, the sun bore down on
the opposite scraper, and the flash was near to blinding at times.

  A few sparrows flitted about. A spider had industriously made a web that fluttered in the breeze, reaching out over the void. The slit of sky she could see was blue and cloudless, and it was midday, for the sun was almost overhead.

  Vargr had been called away and was discussing something with Boaz and the other one, the dog-rider, Orm. Discussing her fate? Fuck them. She had a pretty day in front of her. Carpe diem.

  The beasters had four of their kind watching the above for snipers. Wearing wraparound sunglasses, they crouched on the very edge with their rifles ready. They reminded her of predatory birds. She shuddered to think of them toppling and falling, though they seemed at ease, even the two who were wingless.

  She spent some time thinking.

  The beasters did care. Five years of this, and they still tried to keep these few humans alive and well. If some apathy and dislike had set in, it was natural. How easy it would be to decide humans were not worth the effort. Which the Worshippers had done.

  The humans were all attempting to climb the glass and were clawing at it as if they could find a handhold. Sad to see the woman next to her do this. Her white hair was trimmed to shoulder level. She would be someone’s mother or grandmother? Statistically speaking, it was likely.

  A terrible thought struck that burrowed into her gut and made her nauseous. This could be her mother and she would not know it. The Lure had her, and she, Cyn of no surname, had forgotten what her mother looked like.

  “Fuck.” She cradled her head. “Fuck.” Remember, I am better off than her, than any of them.

  The nausea refused to go away, and slowly she recognized that it had a direction. This woman next to her was swathed in the power of the Lure. To be able to sense the Lure so easily was new, to feel the sickness it lent to humans was also new. Tentatively, she followed the translucent threads of pinkish Lure from where they touched the air near her to their focus inside this woman, and slowly, painstakingly, she detached one thread, then two. I can do this.

  She kept going. Knitting in reverse, she reminded herself when the effort tired her. Time must be passing but thinking away from this task might make her fail, and she was winning. She was definitely winning. She was pushing the Lure away from her, from… Maura.

  Her name was Maura. She knew this.

  The revelation gave her fresh energy, and she plucked away at the last particles of the Lure, then Cyn sat back, placed her palms to the hard-tiled floor, and she watched to see what she had achieved.

  Had she done anything or was it her imagination?

  Achingly slow, the woman turned her face upward to the sky, and for a moment Cyn only saw the cravings of a Lure-afflicted human.

  Until…

  She spoke. “I can see the sky! I feel again. I feel warmth.” Awestruck, she turned to Cyn. “I’m me. Did you do this? You must have.” On unsteady legs, with a hand sliding down the glass for support, she kneeled and reached out to hug Cyn.

  Hesitant at first, Cyn leaned forward and let the woman wrap her arms about her then squeeze her. It was such a warm and wonderful feeling to hug this stranger. The anxiety of today eased, and her heart lightened more than it had for a long time.

  “Maura?” She patted her on her back. “It worked?”

  Of course it had.

  “Yes, that’s me. You know my name? I’ve been away, haven’t I? Was it the Lure? We all thought we were safe.” Her quiet voice trailed off.

  “It’s been five years since the Ghoul Lords invaded.” Though she didn’t know when the Lure had affected this woman. Reassuringly, she patted Maura’s back some more.

  “Oh. That’s long. How did you do this?”

  How? A very good question.

  “I don’t know.” Past Maura she could see that the ruckus they’d made had drawn attention to them. The guards, Vargr, and Boaz were staring. Orm was nowhere in sight. “Hey. We seem to have made everyone look at us.”

  Maura pulled away. There was still confusion in her eyes, but surely she herself had behaved the same after freeing herself from the Lure? It should disappear. Or then again, the Lure might return.

  She gnawed at her lip. Maura was not the same as her.

  “I don’t know if this will last, Maura.”

  “I understand.” Trembling, she sat on the floor beside Cyn and looked about. “Five years.” Her voice cracked. “Five years. My oh my. I only wish I could still help. Did Dr Nietz fail? And his Beast Horde?”

  “They failed, yes. If they get too close to the Ghoul Lords, the Lure affects them too.”

  “Only then? Maybe with time they will get stronger? But five years is a lot of time.”

  Already she sounded less muddled.

  “And they are outnumbered.” Was there any point to retelling all of recent history to Maura? “Since we don’t know if this will last, maybe I should just let you enjoy your time awake?” She pressed her lips together, feeling like an executioner must. However bluntness seemed warranted.

  “Hah!” she scoffed. “I want to know. Tell me, please. There’s something about you.” She stared at Cyn. “I think I know you. Did you work for him too?”

  The beasters were coming over. Distracted, she answered without thinking much about it. “Who? Wait. Hold on. You know me?”

  Her dream of Maura being her mother was too ridiculous. She shoved that idea aside.

  Maura shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’s a vague feeling. I worked for Dr. Nietz’s company, I think? No, no, I did.” She frowned and seemed to talk to herself. Cyn heard whispers. “Yes. I did research—genetic research.”

  “So…” Stunned, she had to figure out the implications. “You worked for Dr. Nietz? The maker of the beasters? Of the Beast Horde?”

  “Yes. Not that it matters, now. What can I do? Nothing. We’re hiding here, aren’t we? They won? They must have won.” She looked around her and above. “They must.”

  “Sort of. They almost have.” How callous was she that this woman before her who might know her seemed as important as fending off the Ghoul Lords? “I’ve forgotten my own past. My name is Cyn. Does that help?”

  Maura’s brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember a Cyn.”

  Damn.

  The guards had pulled back most of the humans, leaving space on the ledge for the other beasters to approach. Vargr looked bemused, a smile dancing on his mouth then off again, as if he wasn’t sure her waking a human was wise.

  Cautiously, she stood, propping her back against the rough-surfaced wall. Maura reached out with her arm and pleaded for help in rising.

  His expression unreadable, Boaz pulled her to her feet. “Come with us, Cyn.” Then he looked to Maura. “You will stay here.”

  They brought her to an indoors room with a large window that looked out over the ledge. Though she searched Boaz for some indication as to whether they’d condemned her, he gave little away. This did seem promising. She held onto that hope.

  He gestured toward Maura.

  “I’ve never seen her speak in all these years, and I’ve known her and the others since they were overcome. What did you do?” He ducked his head then looked up at her. “Can you do it to the others? Is it permanent?”

  “Permanent? No. Sadly it doesn’t look like it is.” Her mouth turned down. “I think Maura has reverted already.” Maura was indeed pawing at the barrier.

  “I see. So Maura is her name? Most of the others we have known names as they had ID on them but not her. But what did you do?”

  Cyn frowned. “I pulled the Lure from her, untangled it from her mind. That’s about it. It took some effort. I could feel where it was. She said she used to work for Dr. Nietz as a genetic researcher. She must’ve been a smart woman. I might be able to do the same to others but if it doesn’t last…”

  “Hmmm. I don’t think I want to let you loose on everyone. Not yet.”

  She could almost see his suspicions simmering. Maybe she is a Gho
ul Lord apprentice or some such crap.

  “Rutger wants us to get you analyzed by the biotechie beaster at his tribe. I wasn’t sure but this clinches it. You’ll go with the trading caravan we’re sending to them. Under guard,” he said pointedly to Vargr, who only nodded. “Orm will go with Toother, then there is Rutger, a few of our soldiers. And Maura. Definitely her. You will ask her questions with someone else present to listen. Orm or one of the other Mercantor beasters, every time. I want written down everything she says about the research.”

  Understandable. Though minus any equipment, what could Maura do even if she had the knowledge?

  “And Maura is to get biotechie examined too, Vargr. Probably she is pure human but if she worked for the doctor, she might have something in her blood. I want you gone today. Pack up whatever you think you need and go with the caravan. The Worshippers want to get some interaction going, more than just with radio comms.”

  “Got it.” Vargr moved from beside Boaz and closer to her.

  Her brain nudged her as to an easier solution. “Why not just move the tribes together?” She smiled, sure this was brilliant.

  He looked a little stunned. “You’d get my tribe fucking annoyed that’s why. We are Mercantor. We will not just uproot and go elsewhere.”

  Jeez. Touchy. This was like Vargr though—he had similar sentiments about belonging. This seemed at odds with what she thought of as smart. Little itty-bitty collections of beasters here and there when they could be one group and strong?

  “Cyn, I will give you a list of questions to ask Maura. I really want to know this one.” Boaz cleared his throat, and she noticed how rigid was his shoulder-width stance, as if he grounded himself. “What the fuck did they give to us? Because of how we are, Rutger especially. His tribe calls him God-monster, jokingly, but he’s just enormous and maybe unkillable. Almost none of what we can do and how we are changing makes sense if we were given animal DNA like they told us. Ask her what we were injected with.”

  She stood there, blinking at him and glued to the spot. If he was right, what were they? And she, what was she? Everyone thought she too had nanites.