Unclaimed (The Complex Book 0)

by Candice Gilmer

  Dumol was bound to find them. They had a mediocre bit of privacy in the domiciles, since the cameras didn’t film inside the apartments.

  At least his arm had finally returned to his control, and he had it at his side. Evidently, they were out of range of whatever Dumol had been using to install the programming.

  As strange as it was, him attacking her like that, he’d had much more opportunity after they had sex to do it. He could have killed her a lot easier when they were so physically close.

  So she believed him that trying to choke her wasn’t because he wanted to. She had to.

  Because if she didn’t, then she’d saved a monster, and she couldn’t allow herself to think her visions were that wrong.

  “It’s way too early for--wait.” Ula’s gaze roamed over them, and stopped squarely on Cadell. “Who are you?”

  “I need your help,” Mori said, drawing her attention away from Cadell.

  Instantly, her friend was awake. “What’s going on? Why are you dressed like maintenance workers?”

  “Why are you wearing that?” Cadell asked.

  “It’s my apartment. I can wear whatever I want,” she said, her hands on her hips. “What’s going on, Mori?”

  Cadell raised his eyebrow. “Mori?”

  “Mori,” Morrigan replied.

  “You didn’t tell me that,” Luke said.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  He rolled his eyes as they stepped inside the apartment.

  The door sealed shut, and Ula started speaking. “What’s going on? I’m serious. It’s still lowlights out there. You got no excuse to be here this early. And you didn’t bring me coffee.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Next time,” Mori said. If she could help them, then she would buy her coffee every day for the rest of their time in the Complex. “He needs your help.”

  Ula’s gaze raked over Cadell. “I’m not interested in a blind date, Mori. Or some kind of weird mate thing. I told you, I’ll find a mate. On my own, thanks. Not that I want one. At all.”

  “What?” Cadell snapped.

  Mori touched Cadell’s arm. “That is not why I’m here. Or why he is.” Mori shook her head. “Ula, you’re the best programmer in the Complex. He needs your help. Someone’s controlling his programming.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Wait. What…the…” She stepped closer and looked him up and down. “What do you mean? What the hell is he?”

  Cadell pulled off his glove.

  The cyborg vein lines glowed.

  Ula’s eyes went wide, and a smile spread over her face, like a kid given a big bag of candy. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Ula looked at Morrigan. “You find all the fun people.”

  “I found you.” Mori smirked.

  “Good point,” Ula said, reaching for a small tablet.

  “Can you help him?”

  Ula nodded as she tapped on her screen. Mori guessed she was doing some scans of Cadell. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  So Morrigan did.

  And Ula listened patiently while she fixed herself a cup of coffee. She said nothing as Morrigan explained everything. From reporting what she’d gleaned to walking up to Ula’s door, Mori left nothing out.

  Even the intimate aspects.

  Which made Cadell uncomfortable.

  After she had finished, Ula stood, her metal coffee cup in hand, and she took a few steps around the small apartment.

  Inhaled a breath like she was going to speak.

  Stopped.

  Glanced at Cadell.

  And slammed the metal cup upside his head.

  Cadell jerked, and let out a growl.

  Ula growled back, her face shifting into something much less Human and much more feral.

  “Ula!” Mori said. “That was unnecessary.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, her face shifting back. She glanced at Cadell. “He tried to kill you.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Mori said.

  “So he says.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Ula took a seat, and picked up her device again. “I will make you a deal. If he’s telling the truth, I’ll find the programming and revoke any external access.”

  “And if he’s lying?” Mori asked.

  “Then I’ll fry every circuit in his head,” Ula replied. “And believe me, there’s a lot of them in there. It’s a practical gold mine of tech parts.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “They’re still in my head,” Cadell snapped.

  “So far,” Ula replied.

  Mori glanced at Cadell. “What do you think?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Luke hated techs.

  Worse than he hated doctors. Because the techs didn’t think anything they did caused pain. It did. More than they could imagine.

  And while letting this Meta programmer mess with his brain went against everything he knew about what should or should not be done, what choice did he have? He already felt bizarre in the black skin-tight suit she’d made him put on to cover his parts while she worked.

  Dumol was going to use him whether he was up for it or not.

  The assassination program was on standby now, but ready to be released if she felt it was necessary for him to fulfill the plan. He couldn’t see all the details in this mode, but he knew, from past experience, all Dumol had to do was release the program, and it would go on a kind of standby until the opportunity came about.

  Then he’d kill, yet again, for someone else.

  He was done being other people’s puppet.

  He glanced at Morrigan--Mori, this gal had called her--she lay on the nearby bed, dozing off.

  Looking like an angel sent from heaven.

  Far better than he deserved. He knew he shouldn’t get to be happy. He’d torn apart too many other lives to be given that luxury. He’d walked into the Complex, not expecting to live.

  He’d had no reason to.

  At least until now.

  “How are you doing? Any incoming control signals?”

  “Not that I’ve felt yet,” he said. He’d had to tell her how they came in first like pains before they engaged.

  “Good.”

  A green light passed over the side of his head, flashing in his eye. “Hey. I do have to see.”

  And live.

  He had to live…

  “You have a HUD in your head,” Ula said, unbothered by his comment.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you use it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You can connect with all the systems in the Complex. You could know who everyone was that walked by at any given time. Like everything that’s in the systems. About everyone.”

  Just thinking about it gave him a headache. “So?”

  “You would know everything,” Ula said, her eyes sparkling again.

  “I can’t access it. Has to be engaged remotely.”

  She ran something over his ear and it buzzed. “Want me to turn it on for you?”

  “Only if I can control it.”

  She did a few more things, and he felt something, a nudge inside him. Not pain, but almost like triggered cervo had been triggered. He felt a surge through his body that a dormant system had kicked in.

  “You’re on. Blink three times fast. That’ll bring the display up. Same to shut it down.”

  He tested it.

  Sure enough, there was the display, with data from his location, to what was on the other side of the walls, even people outside, walking by.

  Felt like he was back at war.

  He blinked three times again, shutting it down.

  “How did it feel?” she asked.

  “Controllable.”

  Ula smiled. “I take it that’s good, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.” A thought occurred to him. “Is there anything else?”

  She nodded. “Yep. You’re only u
sing about forty percent of what you can do. Evidently, your systems weren’t programmed so you could have autonomous control. If you did, you could be deadly.”

  “I already am.”

  “Well, there’s that,” she said and sighed. “Though I have a feeling you’re going to need all the systems you have to get through this mess. Want me to power you up?”

  “As long as I can control what turns on and off.”

  “Done.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After a few hours, Luke was finished with his upgrades, if one could call them that.

  And ready to climb the walls.

  Literally.

  That gal had activated so many systems in him, he felt more like a machine than ever, and capable of anything. He still wore that thin material over his arm and leg that she’d been experimenting with. Supposedly it would block any kind of transmission that might try to override his new, shiny programming.

  He wanted to believe her.

  Mori trusted her. He had to, too.

  And now, he was ready.

  For what, he wasn’t quite sure. But he was damn certain he could handle whatever was about to go down.

  And it was coming. Though part of him thought to wait for Dumol to find them seemed, well…

  “Stupid,” he muttered, and yanked some stems from the harvested field out of the ground.

  “It is not foolish,” Mori said. “She will find us. I have no doubt.”

  He hadn’t agreed with Mori’s plan, but it had made the most sense.

  This had to end. But whether or not the plan would work…

  “What if--“

  “I told you. It will work.” She touched his hand. For a second. He guessed to reassure him.

  Didn’t help.

  “And then what?”

  She sighed. “Then we hope that Ula’s modifications work.”

  He wasn’t sure he liked that idea. He ran his hand down his cybernetic arm, feeling the fabric under his shirt.

  “You trust her?” he asked.

  Morrigan nodded. “I trust her.” She met his gaze. “And I trust you too.”

  He glanced up at the ceiling--the glass dome that covered the farming zone. They were in the temperate zone, in a field that had been harvested a few days prior. Partially broken strands of wheat lay toppled over where the wheels of the harvesters had stomped them down rather than cut them. They mingled with the cut stems, making a mix of textures underneath them like a lumpy mattress.

  But it was also the most open place Luke knew.

  If Morrigan was uncomfortable, she didn’t act it. She kept looking up and smiling.

  “What?” he finally asked her as he followed her gaze, trying to figure out what was making her smile.

  Because it wasn’t him, that’s for sure.

  “Admiring the view. The sunshine is so warm and revitalizing. There’s never much sun during war.” She gestured to the dome ceilings that let in the planet’s natural sunlight.

  Making the fields ten to twenty degrees hotter than the Complex in general.

  He was used to it. He worked in it every day. Or damn near. The novelty had worn off. Already, the heat was starting to creep up on him.

  “I prefer rain,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why he said anything.

  She glanced at him. “Rain washes the world clean,” she said, and turned away.

  “That it does.”

  He glanced across the field, part of him wanting to run. Jump. Fight. But he didn’t move. Instead, he watched for a sign of Dumol. Surely she could find them on her little Intra tracking device.

  They probably didn’t have a lot of time. It had been a few hours since they’d left the tunnels. Her friend, Ula, had said she had put some kind of shielding on her apartment to prevent scanning, but he didn’t trust that. He knew Dumol had all her little contraband toys. Who knew what kind of goodies she’d geared up with?

  He tapped his foot, his adrenalin pumping, and he wanted to burn some energy.

  Though looking at Mori, he had some ideas of how he could burn more energy.

  If she was game.

  He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped himself. He’d quite enjoyed himself with her before, but there was a particular aspect of the sex he didn’t understand.

  He’d never been with a Meta. Was the mind thing normal? He figured he’d better get this over with.

  “So are we going to talk about it?”

  “About what?” Mori asked.

  He gestured between them. “This. What is it?”

  She glanced at him. At his hand, and then met his gaze. “What are you looking for, Luke?”

  He paused, surprised she’d used his name. Why he didn’t know, but it felt both strange and right, that she called him by his first name.

  Like it was an honor.

  Or a privilege.

  Or a controlling technique that a Meta--

  He shook off the thought. Learning to trust Metas was going to be hard. He had to remind himself that Mori hadn’t shown him any ill will. She wouldn’t hurt him. He trusted her.

  She may be the first Meta he could say that about.

  But he did. He trusted her. And even sort of that Meta who’d fixed him before. Her friend. Ula.

  Wrapped in trust, though, also was the need to know… “Answers,” he replied. “You never answered me before.”

  She blinked. Nodded. Sighed.

  The pause made him wonder if he really wanted to hear this.

  “Why did we share thoughts before?” he asked. “Because that’s what it was, right? Sharing our thoughts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you do that with everyone?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why me? Am I special?” He snorted as he said it, because that was the last thing he’d ever expected anyone to think of him--that he was special in any way.

  “You could have been,” she said.

  He could have responded. Asked more questions. But he’d learned a long time ago, if you just shut up, you’re more likely going to hear whatever it is you needed to hear.

  Patience.

  “I told you that I’m a Valkyrie. A wingless Valkyrie.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I told you that I made a choice.”

  Recognition came to him. “Was I that choice?” he asked, remembering what they’d said before, back in his apartment. Before Dumol had shown up, wanting to kill her.

  “You were,” she answered.

  He nodded.

  “As a Valkyrie, I have the ability to cross over a Human to Valhalla, to live out their existence in service of Odin. Odin accepts the energy of the wounded, fallen warrior into his eternal army, and he continues his warring against those who wish to harm him or his Humans.”

  “So, he protects Humans?”

  She nodded. “A god among men.”

  “And you bring him the soldiers.”

  “I do. I did. I walked the battlefields. I saw the wars, how they would begin, and end, and I, like many other Valkyrie, helped see to it that they ended appropriately.”

  “How so?”

  She smiled. “I do the math.”

  He blinked. “Pardon?”

  “I do not know how else to explain it. It is more than mathematic calculations. It is more than being a seer, because I am that as well, and this is not the same. As a Valkyrie, we can see every possibility of a battle, and we can direct it as needed.”

  “You control the outcomes of war?”

  “Not always. We don’t exactly bend free will. Merely influence.”

  “In a particular direction.”

  She nodded.

  And bring the fallen to Valhalla, he thought to himself. To be eternally at war. Sounded like hell to him. “What if you don’t?”

  “We are punished.”

  He glanced at her back. “Why were you punished?”

  “Because when I touched you, I saw me.”

  He blinked. “Pard
on?”

  “That day, before. The battle where you lost your arm and leg. You were nearly dead.” A strand of her hair tumbled down, curling around her face.

  Something about that shape…

  He nodded, remembering only moments of that horrible battle. Even his dreams were fragmented, torn pieces, mixed with--

  “Wait. You.” Nightmares flashed behind his eyes, nightmares mixed with golden light. And the girl. The woman who’d been there, like an angel.

  She nodded.

  “The woman in my dreams.” He touched that strand of hair on her cheek and wrapped it around his finger. Even though he’d been around her, he only just put the pieces together. Her voice, the memory, the dreams. They merged, making a coherent memory, one that didn’t make him feel like he was trapped on the battlefield. “You. You were there.”

  She nodded again. Put her hand against his on her face.

  “I was there to take you to Valhalla. You had been chosen to be taken to Odin.”

  Which meant he was supposed to have died.

  He hadn’t.

  He didn’t understand. “Why didn’t you?”

  Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked away. But when she met his gaze again, there was honesty there.

  Trust.

  Trust and honesty.

  Something he rarely ever saw anymore.

  She spoke, her words hit him hard. “Because I saw me. Through your eyes.” She squeezed his hand. “And I couldn’t claim you.”

  Slowly, like a blurry picture coming into focus, he saw her, over him, smiling, in rapture, as she had an orgasm.

  She was beauty personified. It was only a few hours ago, from below, in the bowels of the Complex.

  It was his memory.

  But it was her, bringing it up. Like he was watching it through a piece of scratched glass.

  “That is what I saw,” she whispered.

  “You were real. That day.” His nightmares, alive behind his eyes, but filtered--like he was watching them through the same piece of scratched glass as before. Raw, but, well, unconnected.

  Everything coming together around him. Like pieces snapped into place.

  “I was real. And I was supposed to take you to Odin,” she whispered.

  All the nightmares, all the shocks he had whenever he fell asleep--they weren’t just some sort of way to make his brain make sense of the war and his unrealized grief about losing his limbs, like all the doctors had said.