Division Zero: Thrall

by Matthew S. Cox

  “So, what are they celebrating?”

  “My company apparently just purchased some shipping outfit. These decisions are made by people a few levels down.”

  Kirsten stared at him. “Aren’t you the CEO? Didn’t you have to approve it?”

  “Such innocence in your eyes.” He chuckled. “Your naivety is beautiful, Kirsten. I have a majordomo who handles most of the day-to-day things. My role is more one of appearing at droll functions like this and smiling for the NewsNet. Without you here, I could not tolerate it.”

  An hour of random conversation about vacations at a mountain chalet and other fanciful things he planned once she could take vacation passed in a blur. She held his hand across the table for most of it, forgetting about the case, Commissioner Vernon, and all the work she still had to do. Did it really matter? She could quit; Konstantin had so much money she would never have to work again. Her mind drifted through a daydream of her, Konstantin, a fireplace, bear-fur rug, and no clothes.

  He excused himself to make some brief remarks at a podium about the acquisition of RedEx, assuring everyone there no significant adjustments were planned for anyone in upper management. As far as the company was concerned, the only thing to change would be a name somewhere in a records system no one but lawyers ever look at.

  Kirsten spent the time of his speech watching Yevgeniy. His surface thoughts went by in Russian; all emotions and images she could make sense of focused on the breasts to his left and right. She scowled at him. Pig. Her angry glare lingered until Konstantin walked in front of her. No longer able to see Yevgeniy, she smiled.

  “Well, now that the unpleasantness is over with, we have the rest of the night.” Rather than sit, he extended a hand.

  The boat had returned to port, timing its arrival for the end of his remarks. She took his hand; finding herself clinging to his side as if he would protect her from Yevgeniy―despite the man not removing his eyes from his two female companions once to gaze at either of them, save for a brief handshake when Konstantin had taken the podium.

  He walked her to the limo, holding her hand as she got in. After easing her door closed, he joined her via the other side and resumed holding her hand. “See now, Kirsten. No one is shooting at you, and you still have your shoes.” Konstantin stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “Are you sure you would rather be alone tonight? Perhaps we can seek the sanctuary of my estate and discuss the particulars of your investigation. I might be able to make sense of the inscriptions you found on the dead, if you have images.”

  Talking about dead people was not the most prominent thought in her head at the mention of going to his mansion. A brief daydream took her back to that night on the curb when he kissed at her neck.

  “I’d love to.” She could not look at him without turning scarlet.

  He smiled the grin of a man about to get something he had waited long for. The black dress grew warm as her body reacted to his proximity. Kirsten’s mind raced. Would he try to get her in bed tonight? Would she say yes? Her breathing sped up in time with her heart. She fidgeted, finding it strange how worked up she got at the mere thought of it. Without a distraction, she would be there and back again before they ever got to the manor house.

  Not growing old alone had been one of Kirsten’s primary goals for the better part of the last three years. Each time she got close to finding someone, the P word (psionic, that is) brought things to a flaming halt. Now she was with a man who didn’t care about her gift. The prospect of being with a man grew closer. Wonder at how different it would be than her first time made her tremble. This would not be an act of desperation; this would be pure bliss.

  Her hands flew to her stomach as though a force punched her. The heat in her face and chest went ice cold as her arousal crashed to dread. Her thoughts shifted to Evan, an out-of-nowhere sense of horrible trepidation that something bad had happened to him. Konstantin’s hand on her back snapped her out of the daze, but made the queasiness worse.

  “Are you feeling well, Kirsten? Please don’t tell me the fish was bad.”

  “You’re going to be mad at me. I have the worst feeling about Evan. It’s too strong to be nerves. I… he’s clairvoyant; he could be calling me for help. Something’s wrong.”

  Konstantin’s eyes narrowed into slits. He spent a moment staring out the window to his left.

  The gurgle from her stomach occurred loud enough to make the driver glance back. Konstantin brushed the hair off her face, his own expression softening. “You are a devoted mother. I would very much like you to have some of your own one day.” He nodded. “Very well.”

  She grabbed his arm. “I’m really sorry, Konstantin. I don’t know why this keeps happening. Maybe he’s just having separation anxiety. Maybe I could just call him and we could still”―she doubled over from pain― “no, please, I have to make sure he’s okay.”

  “I understand, Lyubimaya.” He patted the hand resting on her thigh. “I shall make arrangements for a private night, just the two of us. Tell me when you are ready.”

  Kirsten blinked. “Of course. I want to be with you so much.” She fell against him again.

  He held her until the limo stopped outside Nila’s building, and escorted her into the lobby.

  “Perhaps I can wait here?” He winked. “Go, check on him. If all is well and you are feeling better, we could yet continue our special night.”

  Kirsten stared into his eyes, feeling the strength leak from her legs. “Okay, that―”

  “Mom!” yelled Evan.

  The boy squeezed himself through the elevator doors before they opened all the way, running to within ten paces of the couple, bare feet smacking loud over the lobby tiles. Powder-blue pajamas hung loose around him as he came to a halt and stared death at Konstantin.

  “Mom, I need you.” He shivered, balling his hands into fists.

  The sight of him twisted the knot tighter in her gut. His calm, almost threatening tone, scared her and washed any thought of a romantic evening out of her mind. She ran to him, scooping him up and holding him tight.

  “You shouldn’t be out here with no shoes, the floor is ice cold. You’re shivering.”

  He held on to her shoulders, never once taking his eyes off Konstantin. Kirsten gave Evan a kiss on the side of the head, stroking his hair and offering an apologetic look to the man she adored.

  “Do not worry.” Konstantin smiled. “He is at that age. He does not like having competition for such a remarkable woman. Soon, he will understand it is not competition. Do let me know what he is fond of so I can treat him on his birthday. Shall I drop the two of you off at your apartment?”

  Evan let his head rest on Kirsten’s shoulder, whispering, “Can we take a Pubcar?”

  Kirsten winced; her helpless expression asked a question her lips could not.

  After a bow, Konstantin walked out. Kirsten carried Evan into the elevator.

  “Let’s grab your things from Nila’s place, and we’ll go home. Did something happen? Did you have a bad dream?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t like him.” Kirsten exhaled.

  Evan shrugged. “He’s old. You’re too pretty for him.”

  She laughed, making a goofy face as she tweaked his nose. “He’s not that old.”

  He clung as the elevator doors pinged and closed. “Sorry for bein’ squeezy.”

  Kirsten sprawled on the floor at Evan’s side after tucking him into his sleeping bag, stealing a few minutes of time with him before he passed out. She thought about Doctor Loring’s nod of approval, and about getting him a real bed. The sound of him breathing in his dreams made her feel tired. With heavy limbs, she forced herself up, staggered to her cabinet, and peeled the dress off. She squinted at herself in the small mirror, taking note of the dark smears under her eyes. After checking to make sure Evan was still out, she slipped out of her undies and into her pajamas. The bracelet snagged on the sleeve, causing her to hold her arm up and stare at the carved serpent eat
ing its own tail.

  Konstantin told her it symbolized life, the endless cycle of death and rebirth. She tugged at it, twisted it, and found herself unable to remove it. She squeezed the head, looking for a mechanism to unclasp the fangs from the tail. After losing ten minutes, and realizing she came close to falling asleep on her feet, she gave up.

  Screw it, I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me… Sleeping in it one more night won’t kill me.

  She looked at her home terminal, thinking about the reports she needed to type up. “To hell with reports, they can wait. I’ll be no help to anyone as a zombie.”

  Kirsten tiptoed to bed and felt her body all but melt into the Comforgel pad. For once, the damn thing lived up to its name. When sleepy Evan peeked over the side, she gave him an approving wink, and he climbed up and cuddled against her. He had not said much about that night, only told her he had another bad dream about twin gold metallic dragons devouring her. There, in the warm semiliquid mass of comforgel, with a contented Evan tucked under her right arm, Kirsten almost felt blessed.

  irsten’s eyes opened with a mild stab of pain as thick eye-crumbles failed to keep them sealed. The reason for her sudden consciousness became apparent as sixty-some pounds of terrified boy shook her via a two-fisted grip of her pink pajama top. At a subconscious level, she remembered him being unaffected by Theodore’s presence. Obvious fear on his face meant one of two things: either he had a nightmare, or something more dangerous than a perverted ghost was nearby. Clarity came to her mind, and with it came an explanation for why she could not breathe. Evan sat on her chest.

  “Mom,” he whispered, “there’s a monster in the bathroom.”

  She clasped his hands, extricating his fingers from her shirt. At this point, nightmare or actual monster was up for debate. “Okay, I’ll check.”

  He scooted around behind her as she sat up. She slipped out of bed and grumbled at the clock. Her body protested the tease of only five hours sleep as she plodded over to the bathroom door and pulled it open.

  Amid a swirl of black vapor, a humanoid figure glared at her with bright white eyes. Its skin had the sheen of polished black leather, muscles angular and thin. Insectoid mandibles opened, peeling skin away from a more human-like set of silver teeth concealed by the flaps. Rather than feet, its legs ended in sharpened bone spurs; in the hollow of where intestines should be, several infant-faced serpents writhed, each as big around as a forearm. White skin striated with dark veins stretched, dripping dark violet ichor as the demonic cherubs snarled.

  Kirsten had about enough time to blink before it raised two three-fingered hands in a shoving gesture. Telekinetic force slammed into her, hurling her off her feet and out into the living room. She smacked into the wall above the bed, falling face-first into the Comforgel pad as Evan scrambled out of the way, screaming.

  The impact knocked her senseless. Her mind shouted at her to move, but the muscles did not listen. Evan’s continuous howl moved from right to left in a circle, followed by hissing and the scraping of chitin.

  “Mom!”

  His shriek pulled her through the full-body pain. Pushing up from the bed, she gathered her feet under her as the creature hauled Evan into the air upside down by his right ankle. He focused his own astral power at the mass of serpents, which wavered about in their effort to bite him. The creature stepped away as Kirsten staggered toward it, drawing back its free hand to plunge claws into Evan’s exposed belly.

  “No!” Kirsten roared. She wrapped her mental energy around the abyssal’s essence and shoved with all of her desperation.

  The demon blurred into a streak of black, rocketing into the wall as if hit by a nonexistent PubTran bus moving near a hundred miles an hour. Solid again at the point of impact, black gunk spattered out of its mouth. Evan fell to all fours and scrambled to his feet. The creature slid to the ground. Its head crunched around to face her, eyes narrowing.

  Evan skidded to a halt on his heels, backing away from her and diverted to the bathroom. Confused by the fearful look he gave her, Kirsten felt hurt for an instant before she spun at a moving shadow. The sheet loomed over her from behind, wraith-like, and engulfed her. She screamed with anger as it dragged her onto the bed, coiling around her in a boa’s embrace.

  Cloth covered her head, tightening around her neck as it crushed her legs together and squeezed the air from her chest. Kirsten squirmed, forcing one hand up to her throat to fight the twisting linens for air.

  Heavy thuds moved past her, bone spurs stabbing carpet-covered concrete. The light slap of Evan’s feet on the bathroom floor punctuated his continued screams. She thrashed, losing a second or two to panic before her training took over. The sheet isn’t physical. Psionic energy burst forth as she called Evan’s name in her mind. The sheet billowed out to a sphere around her, trembled, and popped like a bubble fluttering to the bed. She flung it off just as a tremendous boom reverberated out of the bathroom, followed by an uneasy child’s squeal.

  “Evan!” Kirsten shouted, leaping off the bed as she called the lash.

  The sheet whipped out, tightening around her ankle as soon as her foot hit the floor. Kirsten caught a flash glimpse of the creature smashing its fists against the shower tube, causing the glimmer of an astral blockade to glint in the plastic. Her rush of pride that Evan had managed to do that gave way to anger at the beast threatening him. She flung the lash forward as the sheet yanked her leg out from under her; the tip of the energy stream fell short as the cloth serpent hauled her backward. Thunderous pounding continued in the bathroom, the noise as though cannons fired.

  Kirsten clawed at the rug, trying to pull herself away. She rolled onto her back, swiping the lash through the bedclothes. The sense of a tiny oblivion burst through the room, and the sheet ceased moving. She kicked it off her leg and sprang upright, turning to find the large demon right behind her. An involuntary scream flew from her throat as she jumped back, tripping over the bed and landing on her back. It descended on her, clawed hands pinning her arms, puncturing her skin while its intestine-serpents unwound. The size of babies, the malformed faces of five little old men hovered over her. Tiny lips twisted into sinister grins, revealing blackened gums studded with rotting teeth. They wavered about as each nudged the others away in an effort to get a closer look at her.

  They screamed all at once and lunged forth to devour her.

  Kirsten cringed away, feeling nothing but a faint awareness of slime running over her neck. Weight no longer held her down; claws no longer pierced her arms. Her head rolled straight, gaze fixed upon the ceiling. Calm overtook her, as if everything now made perfect sense. She knew exactly what needed to be done.

  “No, no, no!” screamed Evan. “Stupid machine.”

  Now soaking wet in his pajamas, he pressed his face into the tube wall trying to see into the bedroom. It was quiet there, but he did not trust the sound as much as he did the feeling in his gut. A shadow changed; Kirsten sat up, pivoted, and planted her feet on the carpet.

  “Did you kill it?” he yelled, to no response.

  Her hand grasped the E-90, lifting it from the nightstand and caressing it as she held it to her chest. A heel turn pointed her at the bathroom. Evan backed into the other side of the tube, squinting at the assault of soap-laden water drenching him. Something didn’t feel right.

  “Stupid shower came on.” He grumbled, banging his elbow on the console twice.

  Kirsten stepped into the light, a bruise around her right ankle visible under the pink leg of her pajamas. Her sleeves darkened crimson from midway between wrist and elbow, blood trailed over the E-90 and dripped on the tile floor.

  Pat… pat… pat…

  He stared at her face, at the horrible, evil, murderous grin. The weapon lifted; jet-black eyes sighted over it as the laser pointed right at him. It wasn’t Kirsten.

  Pat… pat… pat…

  “Mommy!” he screamed, slapping his hands on the tube. “The demon got you!”

  She got super
-squeezy every time he called her Mommy. He hoped it would be enough to snap her out of it. The weapon trembled. He remembered her saying she could never hurt him. Evan stood his ground, getting angry at the creature for attacking his real mother.

  “Mommy!” He roared, as much as a nine-year-old can roar. A wave of psionic energy flew out of him, trying to knock the bad thing out of her.

  Kirsten blinked; something hot, tears perhaps, ran down her cheeks. One second she was lying on the bed with those horrible little faces hovering over her. Now she was standing―with a gun pointed at Evan. Her breath sputtered in an erratic gasp as she forced her arm down. Evan smiled and pointed at the mass of blackness exuding out of her like sweat.

  “Behind you!”

  She whirled. The abyssal slid into the bedroom, dragging itself along in a forearm crawl. The sudden ejection from a possessed host seemed to leave it crippled. Kirsten tapped all of her rage and her horror at what the creature almost made her do. The lash traced outward into a tendril of flickering energy. A twist of her arm coiled it, projecting it into a downstroke she raked through the slinking abyssal. It howled; a deep bass roar accompanied by a cacophony of tiny infant-like screams before it exploded in a cloud of inky fog.

  The sense of obliteration came over her, the headache which so often followed a hard mind blast close on its heels. She fell to her knees and went over forward. Bloody hands clutched at the tile; the sight of red ignited fires in her arms where claws had pierced. A rush of warm, humid air hit her from behind. Evan emerged from the tube through shimmering flecks of light from the dissipating blockade.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said.

  Kirsten crawled around to face him, sitting back on her heels. He looked miserable, soaked and dripping in his wet pajamas. Such guilt came over her, she cried.