Vargr

by Cari Silverwood

  The conversations resumed. The electric sensations having their own party in her intimate zone subsided, a little. She sighed and tried to act civilized. Glass of bubbly in hand, the bubbles rising in the yellow, she drank and listened, smothered by maleness but happy.

  How could she be happy at such a time?

  Yes, it was true. Here be more than darkness. The times were… macabre, yet one could not survive by swimming in anger and turmoil, in musing of the coming end times, it would destroy you. Her dark-accustomed eyes let her interpret the moon-washed land that unrolled below. She’d not seen the ground for years.

  “A game reserve?” she murmured. “Is that what this once was?”

  “Yes.” Willow chimed in then squealed. “What the hell was that?” As she turned, a large tongue swiped at her again, straight up the side of her face. “Awww, it’s you, sweetie.”

  The nanodog, Toother, had tracked them down. Or rather, maybe he’d aimed for Willow in particular. She was scratching under his chin and cooing at him.

  “You’ve met, I gather?” Rutger asked the question she was thinking.

  “We sure have. I think he likes me.”

  “Or your taste?”

  That made Cyn giggle-snort.

  “Pfft.” Willow waved a dismissal with one hand. “Rutger, you might act like a civilized man, but I swear you are not underneath that thick hide.”

  His laugh rocked Cyn, then his fingertips brushed her thigh. A second later, Vargr’s hand landed on her other thigh.

  “And I swear this is absolutely true. I’m an uncouth sort.” Rutger squeezed her leg.

  Fuck. She needed a distraction with these two playing with her legs. Cyn cleared her throat. “So. If we ever get rid of the GLs, do you think we could go down there again? Repopulate?”

  “Not without kids.” Her man gulped some wine. “But farming and all that, of course we would.”

  “We would. I’d be the first to try.” Combing her hand through her short white locks, Maura added, “And with time and scientific effort we might reverse this infertility problem. It’s our land even if we cannot inhabit it currently.”

  The others agreed. More wine was poured, and Cyn held out her glass. She could sleep this off before the meeting.

  Maura’s somber tone affected her. She held the glass to her chin, thinking. For the first time in a while she sensed the threads of the Lure. Pale pink threads. She’d never seen them in color before.

  “Humanity didn’t do such a great job, did they? Or rather, we.” She gestured at the land. “We wiped out half or more of the animals on this planet—lions, tigers, elephants, koalas, all gone. We’re a sad fucking race to be talking about this being ours. It isn’t ours. It belongs to everything alive on Earth. There has to be something better than us being the masters of the world.”

  “Except, not the Ghoul Lords,” Tom pointed out. “No fucking way is it theirs.” And spoken by such an angelic-looking man. His fair locks curled stiffly against the bluish light, as if he’d used far too much hairspray. She could see him in a museum—a sculpture by Michelangelo.

  “Not them,” she agreed.

  Millions of innocent children had died too, not just adults, even if one lumped all the adults together in their guilt. Of course, she’d have to throw herself in with the humans who’d fucked over the environment.

  “So. To the future and the end of those above.” She raised her glass. After everyone drank, another question came to her. “Did everyone here who joined the beast horde experiment come from the army? What was your past? I am really curious.”

  “You first.” Rutger nudged her.

  “Me…” She tapped the glass with a fingernail, listening to the quiet tings. It was getting very quiet. Dawn approached, sketching in the far range of hills with pale light. This was why the threads were showing. She must take care. “Me, I barely recall anything. Maura seemed to know me. Once?”

  Maura nodded. “I still don’t remember where or how I met you. I’m sorry.”

  As if on cue, Little Mo crept in closer to her butt. His tiny claws bent the grass. He’d been lurking, as she wanted him to. Wasn’t safe away from her and Vargr. He was a little library of info, if only they could coax him to reveal it.

  “All I know is, I was in that last experiment after yours—Maelstrom. And I have an octopus tattoo on my ass, and red eyes, and I can push away the Lure, if I try.” She really should be practicing that. “I’m stronger than normal, can fight well, move fast, and I heal from wounds like no one else can.”

  An array of gasps and mild swearing added a full stop to her statement. She checked Vargr, and he nodded. Yes, it was time. Felt right to tell this crew even if she’d only known some of them for a day.

  “Like me?” The god-monster was startled too.

  She clicked her tongue. “No, better than you. No scarring. I had a piece of steel through me here.” She lifted the edge of her shirt and poked her stomach. “It healed up in a day.”

  His eyes danced with amusement.

  “I got to kiss it better is why.” That declaration came from Vargr.

  She eyerolled.

  “All this, all the more reason for us to have this meeting,” Willow leaned back onto the grass beside where Toother had decided to lie. Her hand brushed through his soft fur. “You’re a sign or something, girl. We are going nowhere. Time to put a spanner in the works of the Ghoul Lords.”

  “You want to know who I was?” Rutger said quietly. “I was a master sergeant in the army. Willow, I think you were in the air force?” His hand slipped off Cyn’s thigh and he lay on his side, propped up on his elbow. His great horns looked stranger than ever. Puck on steroids. A very large sexy Puck.

  “Nah, I was a hairdresser.”

  The laughter gave the lie to that.

  The others followed with their stories. Locke had been in the army. Maura in research, of course. Tom had been a security guard for Dr Nietz’s company. That left Vargr.

  He finally shrugged. “A spy. A low-echelon, data-mining spy. I lurked and spied.”

  “Wow. I’m dating James Bond.”

  “I was not quite him, but it’s way more than dating, female.” His stern look made her smile.

  Then she glanced down at Rutger on her other side and found him contemplating her. Ohhh my. The slow swallow she tried to conceal was noticed.

  Pink threads moved in the air between them. The Lure intensified.

  Conversation continued around her while she thought and simply enjoyed sitting with people who were, sort of, almost normal. If it wasn’t for the whole nanites and beast-horde thing, and them sitting in the dark yet seeing as well as a SWAT team with night vision goggles, and the apocalypse around the corner. It was still rather… peaceful. Muted voices, loud laughter, friends, wine, and a picnic under the stars.

  She listened to Maura talking to Locke. The wistfulness in her voice almost made her tear up.

  “If I ever get the chance to see the research, if I could get equipment, supplies, I’d duplicate it. I’d make more nanites and inject myself. I envy you, all of you. You have freedom, sight, and a life.”

  Locke said something in reply, and she could tell he was empathizing and being kind, even if she barely caught the gist.

  What Maura said gave rise to speculation: what if? What if they could do it again? Would the remaining humans ask for it?

  The meeting wasn’t happening until the next phase of night. Dawn approached, when everyone would disappear like rabbits into burrows. There was something they could accomplish before dawn. All those she needed were here with her.

  Little Mo.

  Willow.

  Locke.

  Maura.

  “You want something to talk about at this meeting? What about we try to extract some info from Little Mo? Him.” She pointed with her pinky finger. “He knows where to find a vehicle called Big Daddy that may contain a database about the last experiments. This AI critter was sent to watch me, and i
t did so for five years.”

  Slowly Willow sat up. “Seriously?”

  “Oh yes. Little Mo said the files to locate Big Daddy were corrupted. But you and Locke with your talents, and maybe Maura with her memories, are exactly the right people to try.”

  She crooked a finger at Little Mo, and it rose on its angled limbs.

  “Be good, Mo. Let them in if you can. We need this.”

  “I obey,” it chirruped.

  “Come over here.” Patting the ground near her, Willow backed away, leaving space for Mo. Locke rose to his feet and joined her.

  “I’ll do any physical repairs, you do the file sorting, Willow.”

  “Gotcha. I need my hands contacting Mo. You?”

  “Ditto.”

  “Maura, anything you might add to this?” she prompted the woman.

  “I… doubt it. Memories are slowly filling in, but this? I have no idea where it might be. I recall a vehicle the doctor had manufactured that he called Daddy and the other was Mommy. He had two identical ones. They may have been adapted after the invasion.”

  “Go on.” She nodded.

  “That’s it.” Maura shrugged. “I can draw what it looked like?”

  “Mo has visual recognition.” She sucked on her lip. “Sure. While they work. Anyone have a notepad? A pencil or pen?”

  “I can see the problem,” Locke soon whispered. His eyes had rolled up in their sockets. Blue wisps emanated from them, teasing the air.

  “Me too.” Willow’s fingers pressed to Mo’s chassis. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  The bright blue on her skin intensified. Twinkling violet specks flaked off and floated away.

  Cyn had an inkling no one else could see the motes and mist silently erupting from her fingers, Locke’s eyes, and from Rutger’s horns. She wasn’t telling. They already thought her different.

  A familiar dread arrived—the one that muttered at you when anything came too easy—qualifications, friendship, lottery wins, though she could recall none of those in her life. It was a shapeless dread that had no reason behind it, no substance. If it had, she’d have stabbed it and told it to fuck off.

  To occupy herself and feel as if she was doing something worthwhile by warding off the one obvious danger, she began to work with the threads of Lure. They flourished everywhere, even dangling before and tangling with the beasters. Work became play as she discovered how to unstick them, knit them, and push them out into the void, though a side effect she’d not noticed before surfaced—she became hungrier and hungrier. A pity as the food was eaten and only bones and wrappers were left.

  After twenty or so minutes, Locke announced he’d fixed something internal, and Willow declared she’d found files that seemed relevant and had made Little Mo reconstruct the remnants.

  The AI bug actually hopped about looking excited—even more so when Maura showed it her sketch.

  That was Big Daddy? She’d expected wheels and engines, and maybe a chunky military style to it. This looked like a truncated centipede with legs similar to Little Mo’s and a cone-shaped nose.

  “I have recovered files regarding the location of Big Daddy. Video and data files. Do you wish this shown now, Cyn?”

  It wanted her permission.

  Well. She squinted. “At the meeting, yes. Is it far?”

  “To reach Big Daddy? Yes.” The eye lights rapidly scrolled from side to side. “The journey by foot will take many days. Nineteen to fifty-two days approximately, depending on the route.”

  “Crap. Still, that’s quicker than this Armageddon is advancing.” She smiled at Willow. “We go there, and if this Big Daddy is intact, we find out what we are, what I am, and I have a feeling that will be a nail in the coffin of the Ghoul Lords.”

  It was a huge leap of faith.

  “There will likely be much violence required for any party to reach this destination,” Little Mo said.

  “Damn, woman, you’re getting this sorted fast.” Surprisingly, Rutger had said that.

  Vargr chuckled. “She is something else.”

  “Hmmm.” Cyn wanted to crack her knuckles and lick that gun, again. She loved leaps of faith.

  She loved violence, death, destruction.

  Which… was news to her.

  I do?

  Chapter 25

  At the coming of dawn, with sunlight creeping across the land in a revealing tide of brilliance, sunglasses were donned by most—living in the dark took its toll. People began to wander off to find rooms. Cyn found herself with Vargr, Willow and Toother, Rutger, Locke, and her groupie, Little Mo. They ascended a grand staircase to reach the first terrace of rooms overlooking the Parklands, where Willow left them to head down a long corridor. Toother padded after her—he seemed to be happy with her, which was good. A lonely dog was sad. A lonely nanodog the size of a mountain was ten times more tragic.

  “Before I wander off,” Locke said. “Could I take Little Mo with me? It has ports, and I think I can connect him up with a screen. I could get him to show any vids that are useful at the meeting.”

  Funny how no-one could decide if Mo was an it or a he. “I’ll tell him. Mo, you go with Locke, and do as he asks you too.”

  Mo agreed, his front lights doing that fluid ping-pong from side to side.

  The pair of them walked away together, with Mo trotting at Locke’s heels. Despite the spidery legs, he reminded her of a small dog.

  “We go further in?” she asked Rutger, suppressing a wide smile. The wine was giving her a crazy high.

  “Yes. Most Worshippers have rooms near each other, and we’re cautious in case of a daylight attack. So we choose ones deeper in, even if these terrace rooms have prettier views.”

  Vargr leaned on the balcony, looking down at where they’d come from. “Pick a front room and you’re the first towed away kicking and screaming by stinkers?”

  “That’s the theory. There are plenty of other rooms free. Thousands, but only some have been connected to a water reservoir. Most of this was part of a resort.” He gestured at the opposite terrace, a mile away across the faux forest floor. “Want me to help you choose a room?”

  The suggestion there was obvious, to her anyway.

  “Maybe.” Vargr turned to rest his back and elbows on the railing, which drew her eye to his bulging groin.

  The black leather pants he’d adopted lately left exactly enough for her imagination to play with… especially with how above the waistline his muscles were wrought in perfect taut ridges.

  “Cyn?” His eyes narrowed. “I think Cyn would like you to show us a room. Like you to be in the room.”

  What? Her mouth opened as she fumbled for a reply.

  Of course Rutger clearly loved Vargr baiting her. Before she could answer, and the prospect of actually being shared between them was both hot and frightening, Vargr grabbed her wrist and reeled her to him.

  He stood, wrapping her in his big arms. The veins on those bulged as he flexed his muscles to trap her. Damn, if she didn’t like this. It made her want to stay here forever.

  If she bit his biceps, he’d let her go. Oh, the temptation. Especially considering the hunger-ache in her belly. “You know he made me sign a contract before he’d fuck me?” Cyn ran a fingernail over his forearm.

  “I was being sure. Be still, female. Tell me, god-monster…” He rocked her a little, squeezed.

  “Hmmm?” Rutger’s horns dripped with ever more blueness, a potent rain of small dots, and his eyes were on them both. Had the prospect of sex with her done this? Did it stir his nanites?

  She put her head to Vargr’s chest to feel the rumble of his voice.

  “What the hell do you Worshippers do that entails actual god worship?”

  “Nothing.” He grinned. “We named ourselves this because of all the temples and churches in our quarter. We have a doctrine of logical gods written down, but mostly we’re waiting to see who or what will be the new gods.”

  That had sounded tongue-in-cheek, which made
her wonder how that tongue would feel on her. She peeked out from under Vargr’s arm for he’d shifted to half-wrap her head too.

  “Find us that room.” Then he kissed her unexpectedly, turning her and holding her face, a kiss while he embraced her as if he’d never let her go…

  There were many sighs exchanged much brushing of lips to lips, the parting of them and the slip of his tongue into her mouth, before Rutger cleared his throat to remind them of their purpose.

  He led the way with the two of them following hand in hand, or with Vargr’s hand on her butt. “There.”

  With a thud of his shoulder, he opened a door that must’ve been locked, for the door gave a great crack.

  Inside would’ve been dark if not for their night-friendly eyes.

  Rutger followed her and Vargr in, and her heart picked up the pace. This was leading somewhere fast, and she wasn’t sure anyone was aiming to let her put on the brake.

  Did she even want to say no?

  They explored past a bathroom, where towels hung but were long dry, to drop their packs and belted and holstered weapons to the floor. Those packs were full of small necessary supplies and extra weapons. Beyond a wall hung with artworks, they found a bedroom with a bed, surprise, and sofas, a square coffee table, and an entire wall of screen that she imagined being filled with a fake window view.

  “Here. This is where you go, my sexy ornament.” Vargr picked her up and sat her on a cabinet that ran the length of the wall opposite the king-size bed… Make that emperor-size.

  Everything was set up, waiting for that next patron who’d been coming to stay five years ago. Perfect and neat, until Vargr swept the TV screen on the cabinet to the floor. It shattered and spilled electronic guts.

  “Better, he murmured, and he kissed her breast through the cloth, the heat from his words making her nipple ache and spike.

  She pushed herself into his caressing hand, squeaking as he kissed and bit her again. Clutching at him then releasing, she ran her fingers over the back of his hand, his arm, and over his angular hair, unable to stop the pitiful moans he coaxed from her.