Archon's Queen

by Matthew S. Cox

  Ol’ Jack un-leaned from his post by the door as she dismounted, giving her an unusually wary squint. It was the kind of stare he often reserved for the East End Boys who came to start trouble. The kickstand sank into the ground, so she leaned the bike against a still-erect fragment of wall. When she turned back to the building, she found her nose all but touching his chest.

  She did not like the way he looked down at her. “Ground’s a bit squidgy today. Kickstand isn’t working.”

  “You think it’s a good idea to be here, Pix? Word is trouble’s got your name.”

  “Jack?” She looked up. “How many times have you saved me from the wankshafts ‘round ‘ere? I’m just coming home.”

  He shifted, leaning back as if preparing for a fight. “You’re a Proper now, lass. You don’t belong ‘ere.”

  Too stunned to find a response, she stared at him as tears warmed her cheeks. Penny was with her in the alley, she’d been her big sister for ten years. Only Penny could help her cope with the pain caused by that awful video. Only her friend, and a dozen cycles of an autoshower, might scratch some of the grime away.

  “Turn it ‘round, don’t come back. Don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt ‘cause of what you are.”

  “What’s come over you?” She gasped. “It’s just me, Pixie… I’m not gonna hurt anyone here.”

  His face didn’t soften as he motioned at the bike. Veins rose in his forehead and he broke out in a sweat. His eye fluttered with a tic. “We don’t know what you’re capable of. You’re a danger to us all.”

  Anna glanced up at the thirteenth floor. “Jack. I’ve known you for years. You’re a good man. I thought you knew me, but I guess I was wrong. If you know what I am, then you know what I can do. You’ve got so much aug in you I could turn you off like a switch. Get out of my way, please. I’m going to see Penny.”

  He stood firm. “She doesn’t want you here either.”

  The Ruin echoed with a sound like a cannon blast. Ol’ Jack landed a few feet away, smoke peeling from his coat. He struggled to sit up, like a turtle on its back, making the oddest wheezing moan as erratic electrical threads shivered through his neuralware. It left him paralyzed, but not seriously injured.

  She fought hard to keep her voice sounding confident. “I don’t believe that. If she really wants me gone, I’ll sod off, but I am going to see her. I owe you for saving my arse many times. Please don’t make this unpleasant.”

  “Hannah?” Jack reached upward. “What’s happened, Hannah?”

  The unfamiliar name made her look at his thoughts. A woman, a little younger than herself, blonde… so familiar. Anna’s eyes widened. It was as though she looked at a sister. She jumped on Ol’ Jack and grabbed him by the flaps of his coat, shaking him as much as her scrawny arms could move a half-metal man.

  “Jack, sod it! Who is Hannah?”

  “Promised… Mother.” He wheezed and passed out.

  She grunted, struggling to drag him into the lobby and prop him against the wall. Was that my mother? Did he know? Why was he so focused on making me want to go away? Oh, no. Something must’ve happened upstairs and he doesn’t want me to know.

  She sprinted away from him, scrambling past a dozen regulars huddled around a trio of burn barrels. They looked at her like a Proper had stumbled into the wrong part of town; if any recognized her, they hid it well.

  Twelve flights of stairs went by in a blur of grey and sadness. Two men saw her in the hallway outside of Penny’s apartment and ran the other way. Penny’s laughter came through the wall, followed by the usual sound Spawny made after he’d said something crass. Anna calmed, feeling even more confused by Ol’ Jack’s behavior. She’d been expecting a crime scene.

  Her place was the same as it had been when she left it, with the exception of a pair of fist-sized orb bots floating in the main room. Both swiveled to face her as she walked in, exposing small gun barrels, and exploded in a flickering nimbus of lightning. She stomped through the glimmering cloud of debris to the bed, and plucked the little white bear from where Faye’s abductors had posed it. The pink kunzite earrings waited in their box on the nightstand, their nocturnal resting place.

  “Twee…” Anna clutched the bear. The girl’s absence hung in the air, tangible.

  Any semblance of ‘home’ this place may have had was gone. Now, it felt like the hollow shell it was. Anna drifted out onto the balcony where she had spent many an hour with her legs dangling through the bars, looking out at the city that did not want her. She stood this time, staring over the smashed remnants of city between here and a glittering coalescence of light, London proper. Numbness set in as she thumbed through the GlobeNet presence of Bluebot, a shipping service. She leaned on the railing, watching the moving lights whizzing through the air between the distant tall buildings, neon gnats on rotting fruit. The place she had lived in for so long felt different now, like the bombed out shithole it was.

  One of the gnats came like a shooting star out of the glowing mass, tracing the location of her NetMini. A hoverbot the size of a large dog glided up to the balcony, drifting toward the pocket where she had stashed it. Reading a match, it chirped and played the Bluebot jingle as it opened a side hatch.

  She removed the zip ties from the bear and put it inside the bot with the box. After a momentary hesitation, she pushed the lid closed. “Faye Taylor, Nine Clifton Hill, number three, please.”

  The bot emanated a series of beeps and pivoted to face her. “Destination found. Sixteen credits have been charged to your account. Thank you for using Bluebot.”

  It rocketed off to rejoin the swarm on the horizon. Anna tracked the flying light until she lost it among the thousand others. Watching Faye’s things fly away may as well have been the girl leaving her life for good. She’ll be better off without me knowing her. Anna glanced down at the one earring she kept. A tear splattered over it into her palm.

  Anna trudged through the decrepit room she had once called home, and crossed the hallway to Penny’s door.

  She paused, for a moment feeling enough like an outsider she wondered if she should knock. Her raised hand hovered for an instant, but she decided to walk in. Thick and warm, the air held the fragrance of food from an hours-old meal. Penny rummaged through stacked crates, on all fours amid a pile of clothes.

  Spawny reclined on the bed, a hairy flesh-toned break in the black of the cheap sheets covering him from the hips down. A narcotic vapor trailed upward from his mouth and nose. Somewhere between the scent of sausage and potato, a whiff of Flowerbasket teased at Anna’s nose.

  She took a step toward her friend. “Penny?”

  The woman whirled as if an intruder had broken in. Recognition calmed her a little, but she trembled. “Hi Anna.” Penny’s face twitched, warped with a look of conflict.

  “Not you too…” Anna sank onto the end of the couch, face in her hands. “What’s wrong with everyone?”

  “You’re gonna get us killed.” Spawny sat up, pointing at the ceiling.

  He’d likely meant to yell, but it came out sounding bored due to the drug.

  “Blake…” Anna sniffled, reaching toward her friend. “Penny, He r―”

  Her friend took a step closer, not the fervent embrace Anna needed. “A man came by today, Anna. He wanted to fix me up with a job, a real job in the city.”

  A faint peal of thunder rolled overhead. Spawny looked up, moving his head as if tracking some great boulder going past. “Oh feck. Here they come. You led them right to us.”

  “What happened to bezzy mates?” Anna glared. “You said it wasn’t a big deal.”

  He fell flat as his arm slid out from under him. “T’was before we knew how dangerous you were.”

  “It’s not that.” Penny risked getting close enough to touch her shoulder. “The men after you could kill us for knowing you. We won’t say a word, but… It’s too dangerous to stay here.” She winced as if having a headache, and looked back up at Anna. Fear and concern traded places back and forth f
or a moment.

  Blake raped me! I need you…

  Anna held Penny’s hand tight against her shoulder, unable to speak or even transmit the thought. Penny’s eyes shook with fear which became love; swooning, she shook her head and blinked as though she’d come out of a dream.

  Weeping with joy, Penny fell on Anna with a hug. “I’m getting’ out of this place, Anna. I’ll be a proper secretary.”

  Anna held on, shivering. “Penny, I need you… I was…”

  Spawny pointed one finger straight up from the bed. “Mind out Pen. Don’t touch ‘er, she’ll zap ya.”

  A dozen small pieces of electronica around the apartment sputtered into sparklers. Anna sobbed into Penny’s side, crying harder when she felt her friend gasping for air. Penny staggered, leading Anna by the hand into the kitchen―away from Spawny.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “What’s wrong with everyone, Pen? Why does everyone hate me?”

  “Well you did kill a dozen men.”

  She froze as if slapped. “How do you―”

  “A short while after that man came about a job, some other bloke showed up. Said he worked for Carroll. He told us you’d gone off the deep end at some facility.”

  “Pen, they took Faye!”

  “Who?”

  “Twee.” Anna shook Penny by the shoulders. “They kidnapped her, beat you and Spawny half to death and left you cinched up on the floor?”

  “I…” Penny sank into the chair. “What?”

  “Don’t be afraid of me.” Anna sobbed. “Blake… he…”

  “Oh, Anna. Always crying.” Penny hugged her. “I’ll look after you, sprog.”

  Anna lifted her head, her tears stopped cold. That was exactly what Penny said the night they decided to stay together.

  “What?” She stood. “You’re shaking and covered in sweat. You… You think I’m going to hurt you?”

  Penny looked up, eyes struggling to focus. “No. Anna, it might be better for everyone if you didn’t stay at Coventry.”

  Startled shouts and explosions echoed from two floors up and two floors down. Anna let Penny go, walking backwards two steps.

  “Penny… I thought you were my… sister.” The last word came as a defeated whisper. Anna spun on her heel and flew out into the hallway, blinded by betrayal and sadness.

  Penny glanced at the bed. “I was gettin’ a new flat in town, was gonna invite ‘er to join us there.”

  Spawny gave her a look as though she had suggested inviting the Devil to live with them. “Are you nutters?”

  “I…” Penny touched her head. “That other man that came looking for Anna… He… I felt so strange when he looked at me.”

  Anna half ran, half fell down the stairs until she was outside. An unfamiliar chime came out of her pocket; it took her a few seconds to realize she had an incoming call. Mr. Orange’s head appeared in hologram and stared at her unblinking. He seemed pale, robotic.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  She closed her eyes and looked away, her voice shaky but cold. “What?”

  “I found something else you might want to see.”

  She imagined her naked breasts bouncing through the air, Blake sweaty and grunting. Her body collapsed over the bike, propped up with her elbows on the seat. “Who’s screwing me this time?”

  “The government, I’d say.” Orange’s facial expression didn’t change. His voice sounded rote and monotone. “That man you killed wasn’t your real father. He worked for the CSB.”

  Thunder returned, and down came the rain―full and heavy.

  rails of water ran along the clear plastic. Little hands poked out of them waving at her. The droplets cheered as they fell into the swirl around the drain. Anna slumped on the floor of the autoshower, having scrubbed herself raw wherever she imagined Blake touched her. She had tried to tell Penny. She had needed to tell Penny. She couldn’t tell anyone else what Blake did to her. Why, out of all the times did that bother her so much? Was being unconscious so different from held down by the authority of a constable?

  I could always have stopped them if I wanted to… Blake left me no choice. He…

  Her reflection mocked her, moving while she sat still. Pale breasts blotched pink from furious washing, they sprouted mouths and wailed at her for hurting them.

  Anna’s head sagged forward as the machine started again. Pelted with hot water and soap, she tried to wash the filth out from inside her. The bathroom beyond the tube shimmered into a chaos of flashing lights and horny men cheering at her for touching herself. The autoshower, the dancing cage, had trapped her again. She cowered, trying to shield herself from their eyes, looking for a spot to hide in a room with clear walls.

  Fingernails raked over her breast, drawing blood and breaking her free of the illusion of the club. She screamed at the self-inflicted pain and broke into sobs. Blood swirled in the water over her toes, leaping out into sanguine garter snakes that hissed and dove into the drain. She stared at her bloody hand as if it belonged to someone else, laughing as the trails of red outlined the zoom patch on her wrist.

  Sharp burning pain pulled her away from the hallucinations, leaving her thoughts dull and muted. The trip had come on as hard and vivid as her first time. Doctor Heath was right; her brain didn’t know what to do with it anymore. As the rinse started for the fourteenth time, she clutched her knees to her chest and peered with a zombie’s eyes at the dead face mocking her from the glass.

  Plonk coalesced through the darkness, his junk dangled over her reflected forehead. “You awright? What was that scream?”

  Her skull wobbled upon numbed muscles. She looked at him; naked and shameless outside the shower, he made impatient gestures toward the door.

  “Come on, girl. You’ve been in there for hours.”

  Clinging like a lamprey, the suckling zoom patch reminded her of making a deal. Flashes of memory came and went; Orange’s news about the man she thought was her father had been the last straw to shatter everything. All that guilt, for nothing. So desperate to get away from shame and sadness, she had agreed to bed Plonk for a zoomer. Her account was empty and someone had pinched the credstick from her flat. A feeble grasp at the handrail pulled her into a kneeling posture, and she found the door release. She crawled into the cold air over tiles that felt like jellies until her shoulder stopped against his knee. He tapped a pair of furry handcuffs against her head.

  “Wanna use the darbies?”

  She murmured something unintelligible, not caring how he used her. The strength left her arms, sending her into the frigid full-body embrace of the bathroom floor.

  When her senses returned to rights, she found herself face down on a warm Comforgel slab. Fire lapped at her left breast, but when she tried to cradle the burning, she found her arms locked behind her and a faux leather and chain leash tethering her by the neck to the headboard. Squirming onto her side, she moaned through clenched teeth as the sticky claw marks on her breast peeled away from the sheet. She cringed, grunting in a brief fight with the restraints. Unable to cradle the hurt, she blew on the damaged skin.

  “Plonk? Lemme outta these fuckers.” Ow, son of a bitch. “I’m rather not in the mood. I’m about to blow chunder all over your bed.”

  His reply floated down the hall. “One sec luv. Doorbell, prob’ly a client.”

  Anna squinted at the doorway, curling fetal from pain. “Did we shag yet?”

  Footsteps thudded farther away. “Oh, now who’s in a hurry miss four-hours in the bloody tube.” His voice rose to a yell. “No. You passed out straightaway. Awright, awright, keep your bloody knickers on, I’m coming!”

  Electronic chirps preceded the sound of a door hissing open. Anna rolled onto her back, biting her lower lip as she tried to wriggle her wrist loose. Plonk murmured in the other room, his voice interwoven with that of another man he did not appear to know. Anna stared into the simmering grey ceiling, swishing her feet about and cursing him for using the cuffs. She liked t
he escape of feeling vulnerable and protected; at that moment, she hated herself for it. The more she thought about James finding her here, like this, the more she wanted to crawl into a deep, dark place and never come out.

  Her eyes shot open at the thought of Agent Gordon.

  She went to leap out of bed, jerked to a halt by the sex-shop leash. She fell flat, gagging from the crushing tightness around her neck. In her mind, it morphed into a choking tentacle. Several painful meetings between her legs and furniture knocked the room asunder as she screamed and thrashed at the restraints. In her zeal to pull away from the bed, she almost strangled herself. Zoom painted black phantoms in the window, evil hybrids of CSB aircraft, and something from the seventh plane of Hell. Black, segmented tentacles whipped and clattered at the glass. Insectoid hissing rattled through her brain. The leash changed shape; the drug made it look like the creature outside had her by the neck. She howled and strained, bracing a foot against the wall. As powerful as the drug was, she believed the hallucination choked her didn’t breathe. Desperate fear for her life caused her to shove with both legs against the wall. The imitation leather hand-loop at the end of the dog chain broke, sending her flying face first into the nightstand.

  Her skull bounced off the cheap furniture on the way to the floor. Her panicked screams paused long enough to shout.

  “They’re coming! Plonk! Help! Let me outta these!”

  Anna rolled around, trying to avoid the serpentine beams of red laser light sweeping the room from the creatures outside. The dangling chain at her neck seemed to be an enormous millipede trying to bite her on the throat, a creature she could not escape. Neon cobra-heads with glowing ruby eyes hissed at her as they wavered about. She fell once more into Plonk’s desk, sliding to the ground in a waterfall of drug paraphernalia, condom boxes, and holodisks. She rolled onto her back, scrambling and screaming as she tried to find her way standing.

  Wild with panic, she ran down the hall to the main room. On the way, she tripped over boxes of old useless electronics, stacked junk, and empty synthbeer cans. Tiny VTOL craft melted through the window, becoming cat-sized wasps chasing her into the front room. She ran for the fire exit and the safety of a straight slide to the ground level. The little planes whizzed after her, backing her into the plastisteel door. She struggled to raise her hands high enough behind her to get a grip on the handle. Two fingers touched it when she froze, back against the cold metal, at the realization of whom she saw in the hallway.