“What do you mean?” She staggered back as he excitedly lunged over the counter.
“Don’t you recognize me, Vivian?” The glimmering monocle didn’t ring any mental bells, nor did the coy voice he carried with unwavering confidence. Surely she would remember a man with blades embedded in his skull.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“I taught your anatomy class before you dropped out.” Her silence spoke volumes. “I had hair instead of blades in my head back then,” Gavin chuckled, flicking his finger against the metal plates.
“I suffered a horrific accident in a local factory where our anatomical models are produced. One of the machines exploded and shrapnel cut through my scalp. The ambulance hauled my disfigured body to the ER, where the surgeons managed to remove some of the shards in my chest. However, the blades could not be removed from my brain for fear of paralyzing or killing me. One of my friends suggested stylizing the blades to be less… unsettling.”
“Of course. I’m sure that fashion statement puts all the girls at ease. So how did you survive with blades lodged in your brain?”
“There is still much you have to learn about anatomy, Vivian.”
“I know,” she sighed, bowing her head. She longed to sit in class again, frantically jotting down notes while the professor preached from his pulpit. “How did you end up like this?”
“It’s a long story. One moment I was working on the assembly line, and the next moment it felt like my skull was being crushed in a vice. The blades destroyed portions of my brain’s frontal lobe. You see, damage to particular parts of the brain can impact personality and behavior. The incident left me in a coma for a month. The damage to my frontal lobe skewed my personality, but fortunately, my memories are intact. In some ways, my plight is not so different from the American Crowbar Case. Surely you’ve heard of Phineas Gage and the tamping iron that passed through his brain? I discussed it in class during our unit about the central nervous system.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the story before.”
“Suffice to say, Phineas and I share a common bond of mental destruction and personality change. Some say he became hostile and volatile after the injury to his brain. Since my accident, I’ve acquired a keen interest in merging technology with mankind, a dystopian existence, a quiet rebellion—as well as a penchant for Renaissance literature. I can’t figure it out for the life of me.”
“Professor Gavin?” Vivian murmured breathlessly. She recalled a man with dark, slicked back hair. Glasses once perched on his hawkish nose and his slender frame always donned a crisp vest and slacks. He continuously injected his dry wit into lecture, turning an otherwise daunting class into a fun experience ripe with laughter. Most fascinating of all were the stories he shared from his days as a trauma surgeon. “You’ve changed so much, Professor Gavin… How do you know about me? About Red Widow?”
“How could I forget one of my brightest pupils? Your rabid curiosity to learn was surpassed only by the intensity of your eyes. Always staring me down when I explained things you didn’t understand, marveling at specimens through the microscope. You possessed all of the qualities of a hungry learner. Too many students throw in the towel on anatomy and physiology because it’s too hard. You, on the other hand, never surrendered. But that day came when you no longer showed up to class. I thought you might be sick. Then you failed to show up again and again. After the next three weeks passed by, I knew you had left.”
“Believe me, I wish I had stayed.”
“Well, there’s no reversing the past for either of us now. We have to fight our way through what fate has dealt us.”
Vivian nodded, looking around the conclave of lost souls in the club setting.
“So how did you wind up in the bowels of The Toxic Mistress? Did you teach a bit too much anatomy to your female students?”
Gavin released a harsh chuckle.
“I’ve always hungered for an escape from the mundane in life. The eclectic mix of raw energy, creativity, and darkness in cyberpunk began eating away at me. Before my tragic accident, I always regarded the cyberpunk culture as a festering sore on the face of our community. I refused to understand it. Now I feel like I see through new eyes. The contrast between grunge and technology entices me. It’s a shame it took a blade to the head to help me realize this. As I delved deeper into cyberpunk, I learned about Red Widow, somewhat of an icon for this community. You seemed so familiar, yet I couldn’t imagine why. I felt compelled to seek you out and learn the truth.
“Besides, when the school board lost confidence in my teaching skills, they stripped me of my license. It’s a shame because my injury did not impair my knowledge whatsoever. But let’s not focus on what has brought me here; I’m more interested in hearing your story. How did you come to haunt the alleys as the Red Widow? One day you vanished from class, and months went by without a word from you. I almost wondered if you were dead until I saw the newspaper article.”
“What article?” Vivian said, slapping her hand on the counter.
“Calm down.” Vivian stared at the glass of absinthe he slid in her direction as nausea began to roil in her stomach. “You weren’t identified by your name, only by your moniker. But ever since I saw the article, I’ve been consumed by a rabid curiosity to meet this Red Widow. I wondered how she could look so similar to my prodigal student. I wanted to know if it really was you.”
“Nice to know I have fans,” she murmured.
“You might be surprised. The cyberpunk community has taken a liking to you. Pleasantries aside, what brings the Red Widow to our notorious establishment?” Vivian’s eyes flickered across the drinks collected behind him.
“I’m thinking about turning over a new leaf, maybe finding employment here.” Gavin shot her a curious look.
“A job? Here? Surely you must be making three or four times as much as a mistress than you would fetching drinks. Since when has the Red Widow considered submitting to others?”
“Believe me, it’s not my first choice. The police have been crawling around my domain lately, making it more difficult for me to conduct my business. I thought I could lie low for a while until things calm down.”
“I must admit, you have gleaned the attention of these sordid patrons with your appearance. Not to mention your taboo connection to dominance and submission. Yes, I may be able to pull some strings and open up a position for you.”
“That would be wonderful. You wouldn’t happen to have time for an interview today, would you? The sooner I get off the streets, the better.”
“Why not?” Gavin smiled wistfully. “Although, I hardly think you should squander a mind like yours in a club for the rest of your life. I would be crestfallen if you didn’t return to your studies.”
“You really need to stop reading the dialogue in Renaissance novels.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckled.
“Could we go somewhere more private to interview? I think your guests are starting to figure out who I am.” Indeed, several patrons had begun to ogle her like a dangerous specimen that weaseled out of its cage.
“Of course, Vivian. Go down the stairs to the VIP lounge. One of the women will admit you. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Thank you so much, Gavin. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
“It’s nothing. Just promise me you will return to your studies.”
“I promise.”
After sharing another nostalgic smile, she ducked down the stairwell. The lounge receded behind her in a kaleidoscope of sound and hazy lights. It was hard to imagine her professor thriving in a place like this, much less embracing cyberpunk and dressing like a Victorian character in a novel. How many others from her past life only resembled a shadow of their former selves? To be fair, she, too, had radically transformed overnight into something she never would have expected, something she feared and loathed on a deeply intimate level. Vivian wasn’t always the incarnation of sexual deviance.
She lurched to a halt
at the end of the steps.
She glanced around the uncanny passage. It was completely barren, and that made it all the more disturbing. No characteristics, no inkling of where it led. Nothing.
Even the murmur of the throbbing bass and synth ceased to penetrate these walls. The hall took several erratic turns before Vivian utterly lost her sense of direction.
“Down the stairs, huh?” she chuckled.
Three mysterious passageways welcomed her. With nothing to base her decision on besides impulse, she darted down the third hall.
She almost tripped over her boots when she realized scarlet letters were floating across the blackened walls. Glowing symbols scrawled further down the hall, vanishing around the distant corner. She pressed her hand firmly against the wall, feeling the energy humming underneath. She squinted in confusion. Digital screens. The entire labyrinth was composed of digital screens.
Venturing ahead, she watched the eerie horizon melt into a sprawling lounge. The singing, conjoined twins flickered across the wall monitors, a virtual canvas of idiosyncrasy and flesh. She vividly remembered seeing them on the flier in the metro. So this is Phreak of Nature.
“What are you doing down here?” Vivian spun around to find a woman wrapped in a pale corset.
“Gavin sent me down here for an interview.”
“Is that so?” Vivian glanced down at the woman’s hands, and she instantly recoiled at what she saw. Instead of gaudy rings, her middle finger was armored with a syringe, needle and all. The needle seemed to dissect the shadows, slicing them with even the slightest gesture of her hand. A sneer played across her lips.
“That’s awfully bold of him. Those blades must really be embedded deep in his brain if he sent someone like you down here. Maybe I need to assign him some extra duties to distract him from pretty, young things that walk in off the streets.”
“I was the one who approached him asking about employment—”
“And did he mention I’m in charge of new recruits, not him?”
“No, he didn’t…” Her sardonic smile almost drove Vivian over the edge.
“What’s your name?”
“Vivian. I used to be Gavin’s student. He can vouch for me as a hard worker. I could be an entertainer or I could mix drinks. Hell, if you need someone to be a cashier—”
“Whoa, slow down. This,” she gestured across her empire of debauchery, “is not a charity for girls and boys running from poverty. We cater to a very special clientele, and I ensure we sell perfection. When I set eyes on someone, I know immediately whether or not they can handle the job I have in store. Dozens before you have waltzed in off the streets seeking work. I don’t need an amateur undoing years’ worth of success. My patrons deserve better than—”
Her eyes strayed toward Vivian’s belly, hypnotized by the hourglass-shaped birth mark. Her lips made some half-hearted attempts to move, but no words spilled out. Her body crumbled in on itself, repulsed by what Vivian represented.
“Have a seat over there. I’ll be back.”
Vivian plopped down on a chrome couch, stunned by the turn of events. To see that towering matron cower before her brought some measure of satisfaction. Maybe her reputation carried more weight than she thought. A few patrons were making out in a dark corner, too occupied to notice Vivian. In a place like The Toxic Mistress, they could sate their most erotic tendencies and no one would bat an eye. She wondered what twisted role Audrey filled in this club.
As more haze laced with opium pumped into the lounge, she seized her chance. Vivian cut through the fog toward the backroom. She met with a brief frenzy of arms and legs, but the naked flesh soon evaporated into air.
When the smoke cleared, she stood in a dim chamber lined with mirrors. Her fractured reflection revolved around her with every infinitesimal gesture.
A solitary table stood in the center of the room.
Vivian reached into her right stocking and removed the lilies. They floated down on the table the moment she let go.
She rarely saw calla lilies outside of funerals. A bouquet of them—thirteen, no less—was perhaps the most subtle death threat she could envision, and she would be its harbinger. How strange it seemed that she would deliver this threat to a girl she had never laid eyes on. She added the letter as a finishing touch.
Red ink glistened on the parchment, bearing a special message.
Kindest regards from Joakim to Audrey.
* * *
Vivian latched the door shut, sealing herself in Vesely Manor’s timeless depths. The guttural boom of the doors haunted her all the way across the vaulted ballroom, through unlit halls, and past galleries chalked with shriveled paintings. She felt pulled toward the one room she never intended to explore for as long as she breathed.
An onlooker would never have pegged her as apprehensive by the way she plunged into the cellar. Every fearless step dragged her deeper into the mysteries of the underground.
A few minutes later, she emerged with a bottle of red wine tucked under her arm.
She regretted walking out on Gavin after he so kindly offered her an interview. Unfortunately, the investigation had become her primary job, and nothing else could interfere. Maybe she would take him up on his offer when this whole mess subsided. Still, of all the people she could abruptly leave behind, he wasn’t one of them.
Maybe a little wine-induced ecstasy would erase those regrets.
Fishing a glass out from the cabinets, she generously filled it to the brim. She preferred dark beer above all else, but any alcohol would suffice.
The red wine splashed against her lips and cascaded down her throat. One glass after the other, she drank her fill until the room was bathed in a fuzzy haze, making the city ripple just beyond her window. She floated toward the record player and switched the vinyl. A yawning violin answered her. With an impish smile, she staggered toward the plush bed and dove into the pillows. She murmured in pleasure, licking the last drop of wine from her lips.
The daze of alcohol and music arrested every thought in her mind. As the strength poured out of her body, she succumbed to weakness.
* * *
Vivian’s eyes fluttered open. Was she looking into a mirror? Another face reflected at her, from above. No, the doppelganger’s eyes were emerald green and her face was much too European. The woman leaned over Vivian as she sprawled among the blankets.
Chocolate brown hair tumbled down her shoulders, tickling Vivian’s nose. Her lips curled in a thin smile and she leaned closer toward Vivian. Her pulse skipped along like an orgy of drums set to the primal soundtrack of her heart.
“What are you doing here?” a buttery voice whispered in Vivian’s ear.
“I…”
Those intense, molten eyes invaded hers, and Vivian couldn’t escape their harsh judgment. She moaned and buried her face in the pillow. Go away, go away, she silently begged. Just leave me alone.
She could still feel the stranger’s shadow weighing heavily on her like velvet. Was she real or just a figment of her overstimulated imagination? When she peeked out from under the pillow, the woman had evaporated from the room. Who was this unexplained stranger that crept into the house—if she was indeed real?
Vivian glanced accusingly at the bottle of wine perched on the table. That’s the last time I drink anything from the 18th century, she thought. And her head tumbled to the pillow.
* * *
Mikhael raised his eyes from the bonfire cackling in the tunnels. Something managed to draw his attention away from the trinkets he meticulously scrounged through. There was no end to the treasure that spilled through the sewer grates and ended up in his collection.
Just the other day, he spied something glimmering among the squalor that turned out to be the keys to a Hyundai Sonata. Joakim gladly pocketed it for himself.
Mikhael looked lovingly at his trove of trinkets that kept him company in the stale hours of boredom. If only someone would send a mother and father his way.
He perked up
at the sound of something scraping against a wet surface. Joakim was furiously skinning a rat in preparation for supper. Sewer rats were one of the few delicacies found this far below civilization. Occasionally, he would venture just beyond the surface to sift through the dumpsters for salvageable food. If only the native populace were as wasteful as the Americans, throwing away perfectly edible meals.
Cabbage, bread and meager portions of pork would suffice for now. A pot of beans gurgled over the fire, eliciting another growl from Mikhael’s stomach. It had been so long since he relished the taste of soup or stew. He hugged his belly as it howled forebodingly again. Only then did he realize he couldn’t possibly make that sound.
A strange noise rolled down the tunnel, droning in the depths.
“What is it?” Joakim demanded. He followed his adopted son’s gaze. Something metallic ricocheted down the rails. Joakim clutched his boning knife tightly as the disturbance grew louder and more frequent.
Without warning, Mikhael pounced to his feet and ran.
“Hey!” Joakim screamed. He bolted after Mikhael but the boy narrowly escaped his grasp. He reached feebly for Mikhael as he raced toward the emerging silhouette. The shapely figure swept the child up in her arms and Mikhael squealed in delight. Joakim almost melted in relief.
“My little lily has returned.”
Vivian came into startling clarity as she entered the light.
“Yes, and I delivered the flowers, along with your creepy letter. I’m sure Audrey will be pleased.” Mikhael wriggled out of her arms and scampered toward the bonfire.
“I trust everything went well?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Don’t tell me you were worried.”
“Of course not. I simply don’t want any complications.”
Vivian smiled as Mikhael nudged a bowl of soup in her direction. The broth smelled surprisingly sweet and teased her appetite.
“Then you’ll be happy to know I was in and out like that.”
Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) Page 5
