Tonya blinked. “You’re serious?”
He nodded, and kissed her gently. “You’re beautiful, and you overflow with the power a Focus needs to help run a Barony. You’d love my Barony, and I’ll take good care of you. Your body needs me. I’ll make you happy.”
“You want to tag me.”
He pushed her sweat-soaked hair away from her face. “You use such cold words. Nobles don’t do tags. No, I’ll make you part of my Barony.”
“And I make you part of my household?”
He gently tucked her hair behind her ears. Such a huge man. A huge man with teeth that were more like fangs, and with a coat of blonde fur covering his skin. After a moment, he shook his head. “I’m a Noble, not a male Transform. I won’t wear a Focus tag meant for a male Transform. But you know what I can do for you if you join my Barony.”
“You want me to join your Barony just to get good sex?” Tonya said. He was so close to her, and so powerful, and even now she found that his ripe odor didn’t bother her. It was going to take days to get the smell of him out of her bed and her room.
Until she did, she suspected, the odor of him every time she went to bed would make her want him again.
“Don’t underestimate good sex,” he said, his rumbling voice still powerful. She felt so small next to him, and wondered if he were as ignorant of Focus charisma as she was of Chimera charisma. “You get in trouble when you forget about the body.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
He smiled, and exposed those fang-like teeth. “Count Frederick Dowling at your service.” Dowling? He appeared different from what she remembered.
“Did you really bet Hoskins that you could get me into bed?”
He chuckled, a low, friendly sound. Tonya wasn’t sure whether she was mad at him or not. He did use her and humiliate her in public. However, he was a lover beyond her most frantic dreams and another Major Transform. Major Transforms did things and violated social norms on a regular basis. Maybe she would be mad later. Right now, she was too tired.
“Hoskins, the Commander, and several other people. The Commander was getting pretty irritated with you. This afternoon at the war council, she said, ‘somebody fuck that woman, or I’m going to do it myself.’”
Oh, wonderful. “Did everyone in the entire camp get involved in my sex life?”
He laughed, and it wasn’t a friendly sound this time. “You’ve been smelling like a cathouse since you got here. Every Major Transform in the camp knew you needed to get laid, and weren’t getting any, and that’s a pain in the ass to ignore if you’re running high juice yourself. When it’s bad enough to distract the Commander, you figure someone’s got to do something.”
Oh. This was worse than she thought. It was bad enough to embarrass herself in public once. It was worse to realize that she had been an embarrassment ever since she got here.
“I need to get this under control,” she said.
“That might be a good idea,” he said, blandly. “But you’re not going to find some normal who can give you what I just gave you. Come back to me when you want more. I’ll teach you how sex is done. Teach you a few skills of your own while I’m at it.”
‘A few skills of her own.’ “If you think I’m such a lousy lover, why do you want to sleep with me again?”
“You’re a Focus,” he said, not arguing the lousy lover part. “So far, the only Chimeras with Focuses are the Hunters.” He paused, and a dreamy, almost vacant look, spread over his face. “I’m up for the next Barony, but I want my Barony to be different. I believe we’re doing Transform households all wrong. The top Transform households need top Major Transforms of all four varieties. A Barony. An Arm Territory. A Crow salon and one of the named Focus households.” He sighed. “I need a beautiful Focus who’s as talented with the juice as she is with weapons and hand-to-hand combat. There’s much more to life than politics, and I want to take you there and reintroduce you to yourself.”
“The Hunters have Focuses?” Tonya sat up in the bed, and Fred pushed her back down. His words called to her, to parts of her she thought long discarded.
“They do, and for years. They call them Pack Mistresses. I don’t know who or how many, but the Hunters have more than a few.”
“We’ve got to do something about this.”
“Not now. We’re in the middle of a different war. Speaking of which, I have duty, beautiful lady.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“I’m finishing my change to my combat form today.” Ah, that’s why he appeared so different. “When next you see me, I’ll be a bear.”
Tonya blinked, startled. It was hard to remember that someone who could be so good a lover was only human by choice. Duty, though. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly dawn. She was going to need to start her own work. Soon. Too soon.
“Good bye then.” She still wasn’t sure whether she was angry with him or not. “Good luck.”
He smiled, and the smile was predatory. “Good luck finding other lovers. And when they don’t satisfy, remember me and my offer. Remember, there’s a lot more to the Cause than dry research and backstabbing politics.”
Tonya smiled languidly, unable now to disagree.
Carol Hancock: December 23, 1972
My tent smelled musty from long disuse. Since my people set it up a couple of days ago, it had only added odors, and now also smelled of explosives, juice, and the dry odor of paperwork. And sweaty Arm, three of which stood before me now.
“Student Dolores Sokolnik,” Webberly said. Cathy was down, finally, for the evening, Newton with her. Tonya continued to get laid, thank God. Suzanne was off being mind-scraped by Betsy; Betsy needed the experience, and a two-bit Focus, at least for a first Focus, made a good start. I had promised Betsy a Focus to help her with her money issues, and although weak in Focus capabilities, Morris did run a successful household, one that would be more successful now that she didn’t need to pay the onerous ‘successful Focus’ tax. After this, Morris would belong to Betsy, assuming we didn’t discover anything unexpected about Morris.
We should have killed the ruling Firsts years ago. Freed from the ruling firsts, the original unlivable bitch Focus Morris had turned into a normal, albeit testy, human being.
Sokolnik was the six-week-out baby Arm Keaton had required me to torture during my visit last August. That meant she was nearly six months past her transformation. Duval stood to Webberly’s left and rear, and Webberly had already cleared her plans for the still healing Duval in the fight with me. Duval wouldn’t be a free fighter, she would be Webberly’s aide de camp and also watch Webberly’s back.
“Commander,” Sokolnik said. Sokolnik met my gaze, no grovel, nor any sign of dominance or rebellion, though she didn’t wear my tag. Or, as I saw, anyone else’s full tag, just a half tag from Webberly. Keaton’s tag was already gone. I certainly hadn’t possessed Sokolnik’s poise six months out from my transformation, nor had I seen any other Arm this young with her poise or stature.
“She holds tags on Maynard and Fairly, her fellow students, as well as tags on Arms Bartlett and Kent. Full tags,” Webberly said. Shit. Bartlett was only three months younger as an Arm than Whetstone, and was one of Keaton’s own, working out of Minneapolis. Grabbing Kent wasn’t particularly impressive, given Kent’s spectacular deficit in intelligence, but how in the hell did Sokolnik grab an Arm as talented as Bartlett?
I didn’t have time for a dominance fight. Sokolnik might have the poise and the command of a two year old Arm, but she didn’t come close to my presence or my fighting talents. I visualized removing both her legs and arms, and showed that to her without talking. If she had eyes to see. The threat was obvious and practical: my threat, if carried out, wouldn’t hurt her long term, but it would keep her out of my hair until I finished with Patterson.
“Commander,” Sokolnik said. “I would like to formally request your tag.”
She understood my threat and countered it, Arm s
tyle, without being flustered. Damn, she was good.
“What are you offering?”
“Commander, I offer myself, whatever territory I choose to claim later, and the Arms Bartlett, Kent, Maynard and Fairly.”
“Your skills as an Arm aren’t complete, Sokolnik.”
“Yes, Commander. I haven’t completely mastered the physical skills of an Arm, but combat isn’t entirely physical. Technically, I should still be a student, but realistically, I can develop my physical skills over time, without any problems. You can see my other capabilities.” She took Bartlett and Kent in combat, I realized, mostly by out-thinking them. Oh, there was lots of potential, here. By the time of the war against the Hunters, I expected Sokolnik to be one of my top weapons. I would make sure she got the training she needed.
“What is your opinion, philosophically, regarding the other Transforms?” Our short conversation was enough to allow me to easily read her. I wanted to know her real opinion. After the captive Focus parade, the fight with Bass, the long truck chase, ending with a senior Crow intervention, she could have some rather low opinions of our fellow Major Transforms.
“Arm Keaton’s plan was self-serving, and she willfully ignored the effect of her plan on our chances of surviving the Transform Apocalypse, and the effect the Transform Apocalypse would have on her plans and desires. Arm Bass and her plans were and are evil and despicable. I’ve never met a Focus in a proper situation. I recently talked to a Crow I never saw, had one senior Crow ignore me as if I didn’t exist, and another one talk to me and make me forget the conversation ever happened. I’m not sure I appreciate Crows. I’ve never met a Chimera of any variety, and so I don’t know enough to judge, one way or the other.
“Ma’am, I can offer you information, based on some things Arm Bass said: Arm Bass wished to subvert the Hunters and hunt down and destroy the Nobles. She found the concept of predators serving a non-predator master to be offensive. My post-chase analysis is this: first, she’ll try to grab the Arms from you, ma’am, something you already countered by drawing all the Arms here. Second, she’s not going to challenge you or wage any form of fair fight against you. Instead, she’s going to go after the Arm territories west of the Mississippi, since the Arms aren’t there to protect them, and plunder them until nothing is left worth taking. Thirdly and lastly, she’s going to buy her way into the Hunter organization using her plunder.”
I growled at her comments about Bass while showing her that I appreciated her Haggerty-worthy analysis. I hadn’t thought of the plunder idea, but it made sense, especially Keaton’s territory. She had hundreds, if not thousands, of normals working for her, most indirectly. Her net worth was in the tens of millions, and Bass had been too close to Keaton for too many months, too recently. If Bass couldn’t walk off with a quarter of Keaton’s people and net worth, I would be shocked.
So, yes, Sokolnik was smart, in addition to everything else. Her philosophy was acceptable to me, and I judged her teachable. I bet her metasense was good, too.
“Here’s the deal,” I said, deciding to take a page from Webberly’s book. “I’ll tag you, right here and now. In the fight, you’ll be my personal aide and bodyguard. You’re not ready to work independently in a fight like this. In addition, I want you to release the Arms you’ve tagged to Rose. You’ll be required, after the fight, to spend ten hours a month for the next year with Dr. Henry Zielinski or his designated researchers in our ongoing Arm research effort. I agree to respect you as a graduate Arm, but I’m also postponing the official tagging ceremony, where I present you to my other Arms, until you demonstrate mastery of Arm combat to the recognized level. I will require no other graduation payment.”
I studied Sokolnik carefully. My deal wasn’t a good one, and I asked her to give me everything she owned for the privilege of wearing my tag. Giving up the tags of the Arms she had picked up would hurt, especially Bartlett’s tag. Requiring her to demonstrate mastery of Arm combat, and not officially offering her any training, would be galling. I intended this part of the offer to be insulting.
I wanted to see how smart she was. Could she figure out that I would be training her, even if the training wasn’t part of my official deal? Or that her Bass worries were now over? For whatever reason, she considered Bass a mortal enemy, her personal nemesis. Would I need to get into Arm primitive behaviors, as with Billington, to earn her respect? I hoped not, as she didn’t see ‘bunny suit Carol’ when she saw me; instead, she saw an older version of Webberly. I needed to learn Sokolnik’s personality, quickly, if she was going to be my aide in the fight.
In response to my demands, she immediately knelt at my feet and offered up her hands for me to take. I took them, and felt her raw power and immense potential through the physical link. No wonder she had been able to tag the other Arms. There was nothing wrong with the strength of Sokolnik’s predator effect, not at all. All she needed was the training and the experience. “I am yours,” Sokolnik said. My offer, insulting as it was, was far better than any other offers she had received. Yet another of Keaton’s mistakes.
“You are mine.”
---
“Fucking bitch,” Billington said. After Sokolnik’s warning, I called Grace, Rose, and Christine Naylor to my room in the Lodge. Neither Rose nor Christine had owned their territories, San Francisco and Denver, long enough to have built up resources worth looting. Grace, though…
Bass, in Dallas, had lived too close to Grace’s Houston home for too long. “How much?”
“She took everything!” A few minutes of meditation on her territory had given her the bad news. The steam of anger practically rose from her curly black hair.
“Were you working with Focus Laswell?” Grace nodded. When I lived in Houston, I had worked extensively with Focus Thelma Laswell, and still did, occasionally. She had an excellent sense for money. “You’d better call.”
Grace did. After a long conversation filled with invective, I got to make my first of many ‘Bass apologies’ and my first tough call as Arm boss. Bass had told Thelma to turn over Grace’s fallback accounts to her; when Thelma refused Bass kidnapped, tortured and killed one of Thelma’s Transforms – and sent him back to her in pieces. Thelma then capitulated, and now her people were holed up and shooting at shadows.
“I’m sure she’s already gone,” I said, to Thelma, after another apology and a reassurance that Bass was my enemy as well. “She’s pillaging all the reachable Arm territories, including Keaton and Rayburn’s. In Arm time. She can’t stand still or take too much time with any task, or I or my people will catch up to her.”
I also warned her about Donna Fingleman, which she thanked me for. Donna owned Thelma’s blackmail levers, and would likely attempt to use them to help save herself. Thelma only wished we had taken down Donna years ago.
My first tough call? I gave the kill order on Bass. “She’s officially a rogue Arm, and fair game. Be careful though. She’s a senior Arm, and won’t be easy to kill, even if you get the drop on her.”
Blood-soaked Darkness
December 24, 1972
Denise Pitre – Focus #13 – March 1957. Focus Pitre is known for her charity work in the San Jose area, where she lives, as well as extensive work promoting the Focus Network in California. She and her household run a family counseling center. “I’d found that instead of engaging in Transform politics, I’d rather do something productive and good with my life,” she told this author.
“Lives of the Focuses”
Tonya Biggioni
Tonya awoke with a start, dream screams echoing in her mind. Before she realized what she was doing, she was out of bed, moving, waking her people up. As she knotted her robe tight, she grabbed the night’s bodyguards, Mark, Antoine, Danny and Delia, and took off at a run down the hallway of the lodge. The screams weren’t all in her head; muted screams echoed from the floor above. She took the stairway three steps at a time, and in the process overtook an indistinct presence moving much more slowly up the steps. As s
he passed the presence, it morphed into one of Tonya’s currently absent bodyguards, Russell, who winked at her, and joined her crew.
Shadow. Good.
Tonya sensed dying Transforms and a Focus in deep trouble. She originally thought the noise came from the Commander’s quarters, but once she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the disturbance came from the room next door. Cathy Elspeth’s room. Tonya wanted to scream ‘not Cathy’, but waited, juice patterns at the ready. At her signaled orders, her bodyguards drew their weapons and ran ahead. Tonya followed at a slightly slower trot, Shadow and Delia at her side.
Mark and Danny burst open the door, and then quickly and improbably stepped to the side as the body of an eviscerated Transform flew out the door head-high to smack bloodily on the opposite wall of the hallway. Delia, at Tonya’s side, wasn’t fast enough to avoid being hit by the Transform’s guts. She ran her hand across her face, whimpered a stifled scream and put herself in front of Tonya, blocking the way, forcing Tonya to stop. Tonya looked in the room, grimaced and attempted to understand the tableau of horror in front of her and block off her own instinctive ‘ewwww’ reaction.
The stench of gun smoke and death assaulted Tonya’s nose as it rolled out of the room, and as Tonya stood outside the doorway, the sound of one last gunshot echoed out. Delia moved Tonya to the side. About five seconds later, Tonya felt a hot juice pattern, followed by a metasense burst that staggered her, and the sudden appearance of a cloud of polluted juice and dross.
The élan explosion from the death of a Focus.
Ahead of her, Mark, her bodyguard, lost his composure. Despite the abundant juice she pumped into him, he twisted to the side and spewed his midnight snack over floor and corpses. Tonya wanted to follow suit herself; this was as bad as Keaton’s worst. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to move to the doorway into the room. Delia didn’t waver from her position in front of Tonya.
The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) Page 27
