She had nowhere else to go, though. Dejected and discouraged, she started the car and home she went. As soon as she arrived, the scent of lasagna wafted through the air. Her stomach rumbled with anticipation. Big black Basel was plating in the kitchen. He pulled out another plate when he saw her. She smiled and thanked him politely.
"Do you know how it is going out there?"
"So far, so good. Attaching them is the easy part, though. Waiting to see if they are rejected is the game. We'll know in a week if they will stay adhered. He is already printing up another set."
He scooped up a square and placed it on her plate, and then added a small salad next to it, and a slice of garlic bread. It was a feast for the eyes as well as the mouth. And the smells! Oh, how they sang to her hungry body growing an entire person.
She resisted the carnal desire to eat. Basel made up the other three plates and set them on a white tray he had found. "I've gotta take this to the men." He carried it out of the kitchen. The moment he left, Jaspierre dumped her plate of food in the sink, running it down the disposal. She could never eat what Basel made. He had a reputation. And she; she had a baby to think about.
She made herself a sandwich and grabbed a coke and went down to pet her kitties.
Basel ate his lasagna and his garlic bread, watching Arnold scarf down his plate. As soon as the three men had eaten, Arnold suddenly drooped.
Dru glanced up at Basel. "What's all this about?"
"You've seen him. That man needs to chill out," Basel replied. Arnold's stringy gray hair was pulled into a ponytail.
"You better not screw me while I sleep." His dreary, sleepy voice barely squeaked out before he slept. Basel set his plate down and picked up the sleeping man, tossing him over his shoulder. "I'll go put him in his bed."
Dru grinned. "If you screw with him, you know that'll be the end of this for you."
"Mind your own business and we'll be fine." Basel carried Arnold to the house, up the marble steps and down the hall, past the gym, and into Arnold's room. Basel laid him down on his bed. He couldn't help being aroused, but he did not go further. He liked this job and would like to keep it longer. He trudged back to the barn to help,
Dru was sitting, quietly watching the 3D printer. The printer painstakingly moved back and forth. A bone was taking shape excruciatingly slow. This would be the right leg. Legs were much more complicated than ears. Legs had a lot of pieces. Tendons, muscles, bones, blood vessels.
The plan, at this point, was to print the bones and debone the puppy's leg and hope the rest would stay intact. "These bones will take at least a week to print. By then, we will know if the ears are gonna make it."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Pierre was sitting in his rocking chair, drinking coffee. The postman walked up to his porch and handed him a stack of letters with a polite hello.
Pierre looked down and flipped through them. A new line of credit is extended to you! Cheerios are ten cents off! Electric bill was higher than expected. Probably because he left the a/c on all night.
He looked at the large brown envelope. He opened the biggest ones last. It was a silly old habit, but better to wade through the trash to get the prize. It simply had the toy store's address; no name on it. He looked at the top left corner of the envelope and froze. Jaspierre.
The envelope grew blurry as tears filled his eyes. She had found him. Severina was either not interested or dead. He was always expecting at some point she'd come back to get him. But the girl...
He never knew if she would. Kitten. That little kitten. He waited for his heart to settle a little. He Dru in a breath.
Old memories bubbled up inside him; both the welcome and the unwelcome. He played it out in his head. She had figured out who he was because of the table. He had put hints in it. But not too many.
He thought about carving all the little planks. They told a story. A love story. About him and Severina. How they met. How they loved. How she... Well, it didn't scream, "tied in a basement," but it did say something. Paris. And it spoke of hope that things could get better.
He supposed they did get better. He was, after all, still alive. That had seemed like a question for so long. Would he even make it another year? And he somehow always did. He was unexpectedly let go by his tiny child. She had begged him to stay.
But Severina would have killed both of them. He brushed the tears off his cheeks and opened it. The first thing that fell out was his passport. It only had the one stamp to America in it. He frowned. Surely she didn't want him to travel.
The next one was a picture of him and Severina. Her naked breasts against his young skin awoke his older body. It was so messed up. But he would give it to her again if she let him. He was so exposed, sitting on the porch. He stepped inside the storefront and shut the glass door that had Pop's toys painted on the front. Hand carved wooden toys lined the shelves. His was one of the last handmade toy shops in the world, or so it seemed. He went back to his office and stared at her picture. She was so terrible, yet gorgeous. He never could decide if he loved her or hated her. Probably both at the same time.
He tore his eyes away and looked in the envelope again. More envelopes. He dumped them on his lap. It was strange to see his own handwriting. He flipped through them. Not even a word from Jaspierre. In fact, the only part that mentioned her was the return address. A sense of dread. Had she even sent it? Why no note?
He tore open the first letter he had written and read his short letter.
Hey, Pops,
I don't know how to tell you this. But I flew to America. I met a girl. She is fantastic. I'm going to convince her to marry me. I know you are gonna be upset. I am sorry I won't be able to take over for you, like we had discussed. But I am going to continue crafting toys. I'll be our American branch. Doesn't that sound great? I'll open my own Pop's Toys! All I need is a block of wood and the will to carve it, right?
I love you lots, and I'm gonna miss you terribly.
Pierre.
Pops was long dead. He tore opened the next one.
Hey, Pops,
I don't know if I have said this yet, but I love her. I love Severina. She has been through a lot though. She's not... well, she's not a great person. But I think she needs someone to love her, to show her how wonderful she is. I think her uncle molested her when she was younger. She seems like such a... hurt soul. I proposed. She said yes, but then she laughed at my ring and said she would only wear something more special than that. It hurt, but I can understand. She is a wealthy woman and wouldn't want the ring of a toymaker.
Anyway, I miss you more than I expected.
Pierre
It was strange to remember his attempt of a proposal. How she laughed. Two left.
Pops-
I met her uncle. She has him tied up in the basement. I... I don't know what to say about it. It's confusing to me. She's been out in the barn a lot lately and explained to me she has been attempting surgery on animals. I... I don't know if I am safe here.
Pierre
The last letter was probably the saddest one.
Pops-
I love her, but she is so screwed up. It's not safe here. I am gonna try to come home. She... I wish I could help her. She doesn't have to be like this. We could be so happy together if she would let us. See you soon.
Pierre
There were drops of blood on this one.
Chapter
Fourteen
Jaspierre stood in a brightly colored room covered with thick padded mats. On the back wall was a huge, shiny mirror. In her right hand, she held a long fencing sword. She had no real intention of learning fencing. But there were few people who taught combat swordsmanship. This particular type of fencing class was more free range and less fancy footwork. Her black t-shirt and tight yoga pants strained against her baby belly.
She did not take a class with a large group of people. That was beneath her. She hired a sole instructor for the day. "I would like to defend myself with a blade,
" she said. "The thing is, I have had plenty of this training before, but I don't have a sparring partner. So, I would just like to brush up on my skills."
"That's not exactly what we do here," he said. "We are not training for combat. Perhaps you mean martial arts or some other type of instructor?"
"Nonsense," she said, raising her blade and smacking him.
"Oh hey! I didn't want to say anything but, I don't think you're in any condition to swordfight," he said. She promptly smacked him again, harder.
"Fuck you." She raised her arm again, ready to hit him.
"Alright, let's go." He raised his own sword and smacked hers out of her hand immediately.
"Fuck!" she said, scrambling to grab her sword. Once it was within her fingertips, she spun with every intention of decapitating her sparring partner. But he was quicker than she, and knocked her sword loose once more.
"Are you sure you've been trained with a blade?" he said.
"Fuck you," she said, scrambling again for the second time after her sword. She grabbed the blade off the floor and wondered to herself if she was really this rusty. Or had she learned nothing by sparring with Marcy? Had she ever had any skills of the blade?
This time, she was more careful with her approach and managed to keep her blade in her hand. But after twenty minutes of his back and forth, and forth and back running across the room, swiping, smacking, and crashing blades, it was obvious to her that he could defeat her. Any day of the week, anytime he wanted. Fuck. She left the studio discouraged and pissed off. Was she good at anything anymore? She was having a fucking baby.
What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't defend herself against Dru or Arnold or Basel. She couldn't defend herself against a simple fucking stupid fencing instructor. Maybe she really didn't know shit. She sat in her car, her fingertips pressed to her skull, and she wondered what the fucking hell she should do. She did the same thing she always did when she was feeling like shit. Her tires squealed into the parking lot of her little bar.
She was still in her black yoga pants and her boring black t-shirt, but she had a change of clothes in the trunk. She snuck in the back and pulled on a sparkling silver dress, wig, and navy pumps. It was knee-length and already was almost too tight to wear across her belly. The fabric was stretched to its very limits. In this way, with this black short wig, long, sparkly silver dress, and dark blue pumps, she slipped into the bar.
"Hi, Thomas," she said. "What is there for fun today?" She could feel the tense, pissy attitude flare out of her mouth.
"Oh hey, you all right?" he said. "You need a drink? Sound like you're having a bad day."
"I am having a fucking awful day. Can't drink, pregnant," she said. "What is there for fun today?" she repeated herself.
He stared at her, wondering curiously. Finally, he glanced around the room, considering, then looked back at her. "That man in the corner, in the suit, he's from out of town." He winked at Jaspierre, and then went back to his work. Jaspierre considered the fellow, and finally decided that instead of playing darts, she needed a bit more of a confidence booster.
It didn't take too long to convince the random stupid man to go outside for a little booty call. And he diced up just fine. She cut him, sliced him, stabbed him, and every other incantation she could do with the blade. He never stopped her; he couldn't stop her. She was fucking amazing. So why the fucking hell couldn't she beat a mother-fucking fencing instructor? Was it because she was pregnant?
Chapter
Fifteen
Jaspierre sat at her control center. The one large glass window in front of her stared into the large white maze. Ikali and Tessa were running around, and she kept moving the platform and sliding the walls, blocking them from the lone brown rabbit. Every time they'd get close, she'd shift the maze again. They were having a lot of fun.
Jaspierre couldn't stop thinking about that fencing instructor. What was it that made him so impossible to defeat? Who exactly had she murdered? Katie, but she hadn't seen it coming. In fact, in a fit of rage, she just rammed scissors in her back. She killed Russell, but he was injured and probably delusional. In fact, as he tried to protest, he was too weak to even slow her while she chopped off his head. And Baldy, well he – he just wasn't that hard to kill. Maybe she was not actually that good at using a sword?
She used to feel that she was good at it. She'd tussle with Marcy at least once a week. But maybe Marcy also sucked. Maybe Marcy was also terrible at sword fighting. And all those times she used her sword on Lucas? He never fought back. He just wanted to live. He didn't want to fight. It seemed like, perhaps, she was mistaken at her own skills. This troubled her greatly.
While she was contemplating, Tessa leapt up high over a wall. She tried to shift it quickly, but the serval was quicker than she was. The rabbit was quickly consumed. "Great game, guys." She grinned at her beautiful servals. It was a wonderful thing to have such gorgeous, talented pets.
Her big, swollen belly started kicking enthusiastically at her. This baby needed a mom who could protect it. It seemed she was unable to defend herself. She could barely swordfight anymore. She couldn't stop Dru from calling her stupid; he felt barely within her control. Just a few months earlier, if he had said such a thing to her, he would've been stabbed. Of course, if he fought back, maybe she'd be the one dead. She protectively rested her hands on the child growing inside her. Perhaps that was why she hadn't tried to kill him yet.
She really wanted Mother, that fierce, cold woman. Mother never hesitated; she would tell her what to do or even kill Dru herself. She wanted to give this brand-new child of hers a grandmother, a grandfather, or an actual father. But Lucas was dead. Mother was dead. Pierre was lost. The best she had was a ruppie. Maybe some things were better left undone, better left unmade. Maybe it was safer for this baby not to have Dru and Arnold and Basel in this house. But it was too late; it had already begun. And she wanted Mother to be proud. It was her last chance.
She scampered up the stairs, through the library, carefully pausing to click the fireplace shut and lock the door behind her. Her effort to avoid the three scary men in her house was successful. Quickly, she slipped up the last flight of stairs. These days, all she did was hide in the library or the maze or locked in her bedroom. She did not like these men. Her bedroom door was suspiciously open. She stepped inside to see Basel rummaging in her closet. Anger flared within her, and she pulled a long blade out of her bedpost.
The tip of the blade pressed into his back before he even knew she was there. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?" she said.
"I--um, I need a towel," he said.
She stared slowly at the big black man. Her heart practically thumped out of her chest. He was lying, and they both knew it. But she had to decide. Punish him? Fight him? Even with a blade aimed at his throat, he looked bigger than her. The baby in her belly flipped over, and she felt vulnerable instead of angry. The tip of the sword trembled in her fingertips. Would he be easily defeated like Baldy? He was on alert, staring at her, with a clenched fist, ready to hit her. Or was he like the fencing instructor? Her confidence had been shaken. "Get the fuck out of my room." She lowered the blade like a weakling. Like a loser.
"Whatever you say, boss." And he smiled a sick, twisted smile. The kind of smile of a man who knew he had just fucking won.
He left the room. But she was so fucking mad. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then, when her heart had stopped pounding quite so hard, she slid the blade back into the serval carving. Time to get another fencing lesson. She needed to be a better version of herself in order to face these men. The bedroom lock clicked as she turned it. She paused. Didn't she always keep it locked? That fucker picked it. She made a phone call to her security firm, and they came and added additional security to her bedroom door. And she scheduled two sessions a week with the fencing instructor.
She might not be able to defend herself against these men yet. But their time would come.
Chapter
&
nbsp; Sixteen
The baby fluttered a tiny kick within her big round belly. Time was passing and things had gotten better. Jaspierre knew Mother would have been insanely pleased. Work had been keeping her busy lately. She attended several board meetings, and the 3D printers were flying off the shelves. Their first foray into medical equipment sales was extremely profitable. Jaspierre even ordered a second one for herself. Printing two ears or legs, or whatever they needed simultaneously would speed the results and, hopefully, speed up the time in which experiments would end. Then she could kick out Dru, Arnold, and Basel. Printing bodies was hard and slow; a ruppie finally survived with both ears attached firmly. They had decent blood flow and looked adorable. Her own puppy with rabbit ears. Switching out the legs would be much harder, but having one puppy survive the first step was extremely encouraging. It was success.
Four more puppies had one ear take and one not. One printer set about creating ears while the other worked away at bones. At this rate, a viable ruppie would exist in a year. Jaspierre went off to more board meetings, while Dru walked back out to the barn.
Arnold and Basel were tending to the animals. Arnold filled each water bowl while Basel fed them and petted them. The printers squealed in little zippy spurts as they manufactured rabbit-shaped puppy parts. Dru checked on the latest two ear transplants. Both appeared to have taken well. He massaged them to increase the blood flow. The left one seemed healthy, and the right one seemed decent too. They didn't have fur on them, though. These ears were skin. Dru wasn't quite sure how to coax them to grow fur. It was there in the DNA if he could figure out how to unlock it. The trickiest parts of printing body parts wasn't making them the right shape, it was coaxing them to burst to life. He wasn't printing anything particularly difficult, like an organ. He kept all of the hearing parts from the puppy in his head.
Jaspierre's Descent (Jaspierre Trilogy Book 2) Page 9
