by Rune Skelley
Ron was no match for her, and he was no Severin. His eyes rolled back in his head. Frustrated with the meager amount of power she’d collected, Melissa dug into him for more, pumping her hips to relieve a different frustration. She didn’t discover he was dead until about thirty seconds before her climax.
What little power she obtained was already fading. Her peripheral vision crawled with portents, like centipedes on the walls, rekindling her libido.
The floral bedspread presented a list of size and color variations for Lands’ End mock turtlenecks. A nearly inaudible hum from the clock radio whispered disgusting statistics about the fluid and tissue makeup of biomedical waste from all of the hospitals in California.
Melissa had buttoned her sweater and raced back to the House, straight to the attic.
Her experiment that day hadn’t been a total failure. She now knew that ordinary folk couldn’t give her what she needed. Even a roomful of Rons wouldn’t suffice.
More birdsong floated past, tentative in these early days of spring.
Melissa turned right at the corner, her course winding through the secondary streets without ever extending more than three blocks from the House. If she needed to retreat, it would take only minutes.
In addition to these excursions to practice controlling her patterns, Melissa also practiced with the table. The objects she found nearly always lasted long enough to get a look, especially if she’d recently taken a big gulp of her uncle’s power. Not that the random items from under the sheet bore any significance for her: shoelaces, a tarnished silver butter knife, a crushed Matchbox car, a whistle.
She kept her table experiments secret from Uncle Severin, but sometimes she wanted to ask him to explain what the big deal was. She watched when he used the table, and from what she could tell it worked just as well for her. He seemed to think the odds and ends he got were so profound. He would pace for half an hour brooding over a cork, or chuckle about an empty plastic bag like it was the punchline to a joke Melissa didn’t get.
Hoping to pick up some clue to what it all meant was a major factor in her policy change about their intercourse. Once she’d learned how to control the power, she’d drained Severin every time. He went into rapid decline, and she worried she would use him up. He hardly got out of the hammock, much less performed supernatural feats. Now, once a day Melissa gave him all the power. Surrendering control never came naturally for her, but a sweet sinking oblivion on the giving end of their twisted power equation promised an escape. The feeling she might sink so deep she’d never have to come back up.
But that was only once per day. The other two or three sessions, Melissa drained as much as she could. She would indulge Severin’s repulsive thumb-sucking fetish, even encouraged the use of the stump, but she took all the power for herself.
Except sometimes he surprised her.
It didn’t take much to allow herself to slip, to sink. In spite of losing the upper hand to Melissa, and literally losing his hand to the table, Severin remained smug. He acted like he was winning, no matter what happened. Whereas Melissa felt lost, even when she beat him at his own game. With no joy in winning, sometimes losing offered a kind of solace.
Sometimes Melissa had to talk herself out of going out to another hotel bar.
She turned right again, continuing her erratic orbit of the House. She wondered if she would last the full hour today.
A car rolled past, the shushing chorus of its tires and engine saying how many new area codes would be added to US cities over the next fifteen years, and listing them by time zone. Melissa turned toward home, quickening her stride.
*** *** ***
Marsh glanced back at the door, as if showing the visitors out might somehow not have worked. He joined Rainbow in the living room.
“New clients?” she asked.
“Not exactly.” He hesitated, superstitious that they would know if he spoke their name aloud. “Feds.”
Rainbow bit her lip. “I’m confident we’re in full compliance with environmental protection measures, but shit, Marsh, any number of financial rules could have tripped us up.” She looked worried. “Is it bad?”
Marsh took a seat beside her on the sofa. He sighed, rubbing his temples.
“They’re recruiting. Our reputation is sterling in tech circles, and the government is prepared to make handsome offers to everyone here.” He snorted. “They really missed their chance.”
Over the past several weeks, departures had taken the TEF’s number down to ten.
“Why aren’t you happier? That’s so much better than I expected.” Rainbow smiled, but her eyebrows weren’t buying it. “Did you give them names?”
He shook his head. “I don’t trust them.”
“The deserters, or the headhunters?”
“Any of them.” He stopped talking and looked at his hands.
“What?” Rainbow put her arm over his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to tell the others. I don’t trust them, either.”
Rainbow sat up. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What did they want, really? If they want to offer people jobs, now of all times that seems like a good thing.”
Marsh looked at her, sidelong.
She sighed. “A little too good.”
“They have a special project,” Marsh confirmed. “Something our expertise is especially suited to. They didn’t ask about anybody’s credentials, just laid out a blanket deal for anyone who’s interested.”
“The jewelry.”
“It has to be. They have it, and now they don’t know what to do with it.”
“Maybe not, though. Maybe they’re trying to start from scratch.”
Marsh frowned optimistically. “Well, in any case. We can’t help them with it.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Rainbow told him, patting his back. “I know it feels dishonest to hide this from the others, but it’s how it has to be.”
“I wish I knew whether they have it. I assumed they did, but I’d feel better thinking they didn’t.”
“So, let’s think that. Easy.”
Marsh chuckled and shook his head. “Not easy. What if we’re wrong.”
Rainbow shrugged. “First time for everything.”
Marsh chuckled again, and this time it felt good. “They must have it.”
“Like you said, we don’t help them either way.”
Marsh nodded, but his mind was preoccupied with a shimmering distant ideal. “Too bad we can’t ask Kyle Tanner. He’s the last known owner and he’s right upstairs. We even have a window into his head, but all he ever thinks about is that damn chain.”
“There’s someone else we could ask,” Rainbow said hesitantly. “Of course she knows me as an air-head hippie, so I’ll need to get into character.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
INTO THE STORM
The only local source of the microtransceivers is Talisman Tattoo. Using Guidebook sample collection protocol 2c I obtained our first specimen today (1 µΩ). In accordance with protocol 2c, I left my uniform at home and dressed as a hippie girl. I also acted the part, dumbing down my vocabulary and behaving in a stereotypical druggy fashion. May I add here that a tongue piercing hurts like hell and I will be expecting a large bonus to reward my dedication.
TEF progress report M00427
In the library lobby, a vaguely familiar voice called Rook’s name. She looked both ways as she put on her leopard-spotted raincoat, and soon found the smiling face of one of her regulars from Talisman, the blonde hippie.
Rook gave a polite smile and waved. The woman intercepted her at the ponderous revolving doors.
“Remember me? It’s Rainbow.” She had to practically shout over the roar of rain on the broad concrete steps outside. “Like, wow, is it ever raining.”
“Yes,” Rook agreed, content to stall before braving the elements.
“I’m totally glad to see you. Can you give me a ride? I’m really sorry about, like, imposing
. But wow. That’s a lot of rain.” Rainbow stared out into the downpour, mesmerized by the mist kicked up as the drops pelted down. Mesmerized by something, anyway.
“Okay,” Rook said. “But my car’s nowhere near here. You’re gonna get wet.”
“For sure.”
Rook raised her hood and Rainbow hitched her windbreaker up over her head. The rain pounding on her hood drowned all other noise, so Rook didn’t know whether Rainbow said anything during the trek to the small blue sedan. It took about five minutes, and by the time they reached the car Rook felt soggy. Her coat protected her from the rain on its way down, but not so well from the backspray. Rainbow was drenched.
Inside the car, the noise was less obnoxious. The moisture they brought in condensed on the windows, and when Rainbow used her sleeve to clear hers it fogged again in seconds. Rook started the engine and turned on the defogger and the wipers, and Rainbow sought among the meager assortment of adjectives at her disposal for a way to describe the weather and how wet it had made her.
When the rain diminished to merely cats and dogs, Rook could see well enough to get underway. “You’ll want to go left out of the parking lot,” Rainbow instructed.
Rainbow’s directions kept them on narrow alleys and back streets. Rook knew generally where they were, but seen from this angle it was an unfamiliar part of town.
“Okay,” Rainbow suddenly announced, “you can just park, like, right in front of that garage door.” She smiled warmly. “Cool. Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
“You should totally come in for a minute. I can make us some herbal tea?”
Rook didn’t have to rush to get to Brad and Willow’s for dinner. She switched off the engine. “I can’t stay too long.”
They hurried to a doorway beside the large garage door, and Rainbow unlocked it so they could dart inside.
Rook expected to find a beat up car, or an efficiency apartment with lots of tie-dyed tapestries. Instead the well-lit space was an electronics workshop, cluttered but clean. Two long workbenches filled most of the floor, and shelving lined the walls.
Rainbow faced Rook and gave a vague spread-armed gesture and a lopsided sad kind of smile. Rook stayed near the door, her surprise sliding toward distrust. After several seconds she asked, “Weren’t you going to make us tea?”
“Of course, right.” Rainbow moved to a cabinet with a microwave. She worked with her back to Rook, running water into a pair of mugs and placing them in the microwave. Something about the way Rainbow moved seemed odd. “While this warms up,” she added hesitantly, “I need to tell you something.”
Rook reached behind herself and placed her hand on the doorknob.
Rainbow’s voice seemed different as well.
For a moment she leaned on the sink as if exhausted, then she straightened. Rook heard her draw a deep breath as she turned around. Rook looked her in the eye, and saw a stranger.
“Please,” Rainbow said, with perfect diction, “stay for one minute and hear me out.”
Rook shook her head and began to turn the knob.
“I’m so sorry,” Rainbow pleaded. “It was an act. It seems so stupid now, but we didn’t know you and I thought I should have a persona, someone who’d be in a piercing parlor all the time.”
“Why.”
Rainbow looked at the floor. She said something as the microwave’s beep interrupted, and put her hand over her face until it fell silent. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
Rook felt queasy and furious. She took a closer look at the sophisticated bits and pieces on the nearest workbench, and knew why this woman had deceived her.
“The jewelry,” Rook spat. “You used me to get at it.”
Rainbow nodded, still staring at the floor.
“You knew about it! You knew, and you let me keep handing it out.”
“I’m sorry. We didn’t know enough about you to share our information. We couldn’t lose our source.”
“You admit you used me.”
“I said I’m sorry. I truly am, and I’m coming clean now. You know how important that jewelry is. Dealing with it took priority over everything. And it’s not dealt with yet. We need your help, again.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Rook demanded.
“We’re called the TEF. It’s pretty complicated.”
Rook recalled the name from Shaw’s files. This outfit was one of the bidders in the black-market auction. “Why should I help you?”
“We think someone plans to set up another program. It’s going to start all over again. We’re trying to find out who has the main lode of jewelry, and where it is. We want to stop them, but we need more information.”
“Well, I’m afraid all your soul-searching was for nothing. I don’t know anything about any of that.”
Rainbow shrugged. “We can still have our tea. I’ll talk about the few things we know, and rattle off our wild guesses about what it might mean, and maybe it’ll turn out something you know can help us after all.”
“I’m not convinced I even want to help you,” Rook reminded her.
“I understand. That doesn’t mean you can’t hear me out, right? I’ll just talk, and if you don’t want to respond then that’s fine. I don’t blame you for being wary.”
Rook didn’t want to give an admitted liar more chances to mess with her head, but this proposition felt pretty safe. But she wouldn’t drink the tea. Or the Kool-Aid.
“Okay.”
Rainbow sighed in relief. As she dropped teabags into their mugs, a door across from Rook opened and two men came in. The first, startlingly tall, wearing a snot green cardigan, collapsed his yellow umbrella and deposited it in a stand by the door. The second man was older and squatly built, with scruffy gray hair and beard. He wore all black, and the instant he came in from the rain his icy blue eyes locked onto Rook.
Rainbow hurried to make introductions. “This is my boyfriend Marsh, and that’s Severin. Marsh, Severin, this is my friend Rook. She was kind enough to give me a lift home.”
Severin! Rook tried to maintain an outward calm as her mind and heart raced. This man kidnapped Willow.
“I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance, young lady,” Severin said. He never broke eye contact as he navigated around the workbenches. Rook couldn’t drop her gaze either. He grasped her hand eagerly. His skin was cold, clammy with rainwater. A shiver grabbed Rook by the spine.
Now that he’d come closer, she saw the smooth pink stump of his left wrist.
Keeping Severin’s eyes under careful surveillance, Rook said, “Never mind the tea. I have to go.” She tore herself loose from Severin’s grip and bolted into the storm.
*** *** ***
“Ba ba ba ba ba,” Zen babbled as she drooled all over the bunny on her purple sweatshirt.
“That’s right,” Willow said, “Fin and Rook will be here soon. Zen is such a smart girl.”
“Ba! Ba ba ba ba,” Zen agreed.
Willow carried her mug to the kitchen and loaded it into the dishwasher. The meatloaf smelled delicious.
The back door opened in the laundry room, letting in the loud rushing hiss of the rain along with Brad and Fin.
“Look who I found,” Brad said cheerfully.
“Hi Mom.” Fin gave her a kiss on the cheek. His trench coat was soaked, as was his hair.
“Why didn’t you call for a ride?” Willow asked.
“I had an umbrella,” Fin explained. “The wind took that as a challenge.”
“It’s a good thing your mother needed her beer,” Brad joked, “or you’d still be out there drowning.”
“Oh, yes. My beer.” Willow took Brad’s six-pack and put it in the refrigerator.
“Is Rook here?” Fin asked.
“Not yet,” Willow said.
The three adults moved to the living room where Zen sat on a yellow blanket, babbling.
Fin scooped his sister off the floor so she could drool on his black shirt.
“Ba ba ba ba
ba,” Zen said emphatically.
“You don’t say,” said Fin.
Willow watched with a grin as her two children carried on their nonsensical conversation. These weekly parenting practice sessions had been a great success. Both Fin and Rook were quite comfortable with Zen, and, more important, they realized it. Impending parenthood frightened them much less. Willow thought about suggesting they take Zen overnight now that they were in their new house. It would be good practice for them, and it would be an opportunity for Brad and herself to be alone together.
Date night. Willow sighed at the thought.
Headlights cut across the wall signaling Rook’s arrival.
“Guess who’s here, Zen,” said Fin.
“Ba!”
“That’s right!”
He crossed to the door and opened it.
“Ba!” said Zen.
“Ba,” said Rook. She wore another of her signature bizarre outfits. This one paired a leopard raincoat with plaid stockings and her beloved boots. She shrugged off the jacket and hung it in the closet. Her red stretch velvet skirt was quite short, as usual. The t-shirt with the Nicotine logo had been Fin’s. It fit snugly over her rounded belly.
Rook closed the closet door and stood staring at it, smoothing her shirt several times. Turning abruptly to face everyone, she plastered on a too-wide smile and ran her hands through her wild, damp hair.
“Boy, that weather’s something!”
Fin handed Zen off to Brad on his way to embrace Rook. “Everything okay?”
She blinked rapidly at him and nodded.
Willow was unconvinced, and it seemed Fin was too.
He cocked his head and looked down at Rook, resting one hand on her abdomen.
“Everything’s fine,” she insisted. “Really.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Rook,” Fin said. He cupped her face in his hands.
“I just had a fright. I’m okay.” She stood in front of the fire. “Did I ever mention Rainbow?”
Fin thought for a second, shook his head.
