Not long ago, Kyle kidnapped her on Shaw’s orders. Now he seemed to have stepped into the dead man’s life. How fucking creepy!
With varying degrees of horror and nausea, Rook contemplated whether Kyle killed the reverend or just moved in opportunistically upon his death, because clearly the fancy penthouse upstairs had been Shaw’s. Which meant the limousine, guards, and personal physician had also been Shaw’s.
She’d just been thoroughly fucked in Brian Shaw’s bed.
Please, please let Kyle have changed the sheets when he moved in.
Rook whimpered and blinked back tears. Time to make a hasty search for damning evidence and get the hell out of this freak show.
A large wooden cross edged in gold hung beside the window. The other walls held framed documents and pictures. Rook turned on the desk lamp. The pictures were all of Brian Shaw glad-handing. One picture in particular drew her attention. It showed the reverend with his arm around Kyle, both of them grinning. Something about the lighting didn’t look right. It reminded her of the pictures they sometimes ran in CTP, the ones they created in PhotoShop.
Rook gave herself ten minutes to search. She wanted to be gone before any ministry personnel could show up and start asking questions. They might believe that ‘early to bed, early to rise’ crap, and today was Sunday. Presumably their busiest day.
The desk was a mahogany behemoth. Its polished surface held no stray papers, no sticky notes, no gilt-framed photos of an adoring wife and children, no name plate, no computer. The doodles on the blotter offered nothing significant. An appointment book lay beside the phone, open to this week, with notes in two different hands. Several public appearances had been canceled. Rook flipped back through the preceding weeks and deduced Kyle took over from Shaw shortly after the eventful day she first encountered them both. Of those events nothing in either hand indicated anything unusual had been planned. The desk drawers were her last hope.
The long center drawer held the typical pens and paperclips, other stationery shit. There were two drawers on each side. They were locked, but using a letter opener from the first drawer, Rook pried them open. The bottom drawer on the left contained a half-empty bottle of whiskey, a bottle of vodka, several unopened bourbons and a pack of chewing gum. The top drawer held a bible, a dictionary, and a bunch of religious pamphlets.
The bottom drawer on the right held an interoffice mail envelope addressed to Mr Tanner, the previous recipient one Carl M. The contents disappointed: a report on the ministry’s demographics, a budget report, a hefty document titled ‘Justification of Budgetary Allocation and Proposal for Upgrade of Tertiary Equipment per your request’ and a single sheet labeled TEF. TEF? What did the Threshold have to do with Kyle? No time to figure that out now. Rook decided to take the papers.
The top drawer contained a box of tissues, a small tape player, and a cigar box. Rook put on the headphones and started the tape player. She laughed when she heard a woman moaning, wondering what sort of kinky audio book Kyle was listening to, but then she heard Marcus’s voice and her own reply. Anger, horror and bafflement battled for supremacy of her emotions. Kyle had a recording of her having sex with Marcus, but she hadn’t met Kyle until after leaving Marcus. She ejected the tape and put it in the envelope. Later she would figure out how he got it.
Rook opened the cigar box and found the green panties she threw away in Fin’s room. Now she knew why Kyle kept his tissues in this same drawer. She didn’t want to touch the panties after what Kyle had done with them, but wanted even less to leave them for him to do it again, so she scooped them up and added them to the envelope. Underneath rested a small, moleskin notebook.
Aha.
But it only contained religious ramblings in Shaw’s handwriting. The title page called them New Revelations. She riffled through the pages, which were filled with revisions and margin notes. The book fell open to a section near the middle. This part talked about some kind of ‘Divided Child,’ the second coming or something. A loose page of lined paper covered with notes marked the page. Kyle was trying to map this hokum onto real life. She put it away in disgust.
This was getting her nowhere. Time to get the hell out.
Looking around for a weapon, Rook settled for the big gold-trimmed cross from the wall. At least she could clobber someone with it if she needed to. The elevator took her down to the garage level.
As the elevator doors opened, the guards stood there, pointing pistols at her.
Rook dropped the cross and tried to look sheepish. The smaller guard took her by the arm and escorted her back upstairs. He didn’t seem like your typical religious zealot, or rent-a-cop. He seemed dangerous. He wore the same black uniform she had seen on troops at the factory.
Kyle awaited her in the open doorway, wearing black silk pajama bottoms and a wryly amused expression.
“Thank you for returning her. I’m sure she just got lost, isn’t that right darling?” He took her from the guard, roughly pulling her to him and kissing her. “Lock the elevator once you’ve gone back down,” he said to the guard. “I’ll call when I need it.”
Kyle led Rook back into the apartment. Without an audience his demeanor grew gruffer. Rook could tell he was furious with her but trying to hide it.
“Now, what have you found?” he asked as he took the envelope from her. He frowned when he read the label. Sitting her on the deep green leather sofa, he stood over her, glaring down. After several moments, he said, “I forgot you were a reporter. My mistake. It won’t happen again. Will it?”
Rook shook her head.
Kyle’s expression softened. “You’re going to keep me on my toes, I can see that.” Tossing aside the envelope, he flipped through the papers he pulled from it. “I don’t suppose you made any sense of these?”
Rook shook her head again.
“Ah, well. I can’t make heads or tails of them. I was hoping a smart girl like you could explain them to me.”
“I didn’t read them yet. If you’d like to let—”
“You won’t be offended if I say no.” He picked up the envelope from the coffee table. “What else did you find?”
Rook said nothing.
Kyle slid out the panties and cassette. He ran his fingers over the silky crotch before dropping the panties onto the cherry coffee table. A sly smile slithered across his face. “Did you listen to it?” he asked, indicating the tape. “I found it very informative. Very enjoyable, Little Raven.”
Rook’s tenuous control snapped. “Don’t call me that!”
“Calm, calm, darling.”
“I’m not your darling. And I’m not Little Raven!”
“Very well. I’ll think of my own pet name for you.”
“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”
Kyle raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Where will you go? You have no home now, except with me.”
“Fuck off. You’re a stalker pervert.”
“Didn’t seem to bother you the first four times you fucked me.”
Rook stood and brushed past Kyle, heading toward the phone on the end table. She didn’t know whom she expected to call but she wanted to show Kyle he couldn’t keep her against her will.
He watched with placid green eyes as she lifted the receiver.
No dial tone. She heard a ring followed by, “Yes, sir?”
Kyle moved past her in the direction of the kitchen, chuckling.
“I’d like to leave now.” Rook knew it wouldn’t work. “Please send the elevator up.”
“Certainly ma’am. Let me confirm that with Mr Tanner.”
Rook glanced at Kyle, busy at the counter with his back to her.
“He’s unable to come to the phone right now, but he said it’s okay.” She knew she sounded lame.
“Sorry, ma’am. I need orders from Mr Tanner.”
“Oh come on! What if he were dead or something? Would you leave me up here to starve?”
“Is Mr Tanner dead, ma’am?” Rook detected a note of aggression.
Kyle took the phone from her. “Return to your duties.” He replaced the handset, but held onto Rook’s wrist.
“I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, babycakes,” he said. Rook scowled. Kyle held up a syringe. “I don’t want to use this, but I will if I have to. You’re a smart girl. Is it really so bad, being here with me? I can give you everything you want.”
“I want to go.”
Kyle nodded and sighed. He jabbed the needle into her hip. Rook felt woozy immediately, felt Kyle lifting her.
*** *** ***
Kyle tossed Rook onto his king-size bed, amid the jumble of sweaty sheets, and regarded her. By pure luck his alarm clock awakened him at 6:00. He trusted his guards not to let her walk out, but without explicit instructions to the contrary, they may have been talked into it.
The feather tattoo on her collarbone drew his attention. It and the ones on her arms were covered when they’d first met and he hadn’t noticed them or the one peeking out over her shirt in the back, a weird tower made of birds, until last night. She had quite a collection of tattoos, he had discovered. Not surprising since she’d been dating a tattoo artist. The other girls he’d known with tattoos all had small, cute, colorful things like flowers or hummingbirds, hearts, stars and rainbows. Like they’d chosen them from a box of Lucky Charms. Rook’s were different, bold and black and strong. They weren’t an accessory. They were her and they delivered an erotic charge. Except the wedding-ring one.
With the dim lighting of the limo and the darkened bedroom here, he had yet to get a good look at any of her markings.
Kyle removed Rook’s tattered boots and briefly examined the chess pieces on her feet and the birds around her ankle. He ran his hands slowly up her legs, searching for anything he had missed. Her inner thighs were sticky with the smell of sex. He rolled her onto her stomach to unzip her skirt and spent several moments studying the enormous flock of crows spewing from the castle tower on her side before tracing her bird tramp stamp, first with his fingertips, then his tongue. He slipped her skirt down and off, her panties with it. The scent intensified. The whisper of the fabric across her skin promised sensual surprises still to be uncovered and Kyle urgently pulled her tank top off. In the process, he exposed her neck and stopped short.
The tower there unnerved him. He hadn’t seen it before. There was something deeply wrong about it. The person who chose this image for this spot must be fundamentally unhealthy, declaring to the world that the root of her mind, the core, was this shattered, flaming structure of stone.
Absorbing Shaw’s knowledge afforded Kyle power, wealth, and Rook. The downside was thoughts like those. Talk about a mood-killer.
He wouldn’t let it beat him. It was just ink. After staring at the tower until the creep-factor was gone, he rolled her onto her back.
Her eyes were closed, her jaw slack. Her nipples were standing up. And she had one more tattoo, right down by her pubic hair. He trailed his fingers from her breasts down to it and leaned in close to get a good look. Another black bird. As he studied it, her smell engulfed him.
Kyle slid his pajama pants off.
***
Kyle showered and dressed. He would need to brief the guards on expectations regarding his new girlfriend, and push off his Ministries meetings until afternoon so he could deal with Rook thoroughly. Make sure there weren’t any more incidents. He would talk to Markowski about handcuffs or other restraining devices, as a last resort of course. Or maybe just for fun.
Over breakfast Kyle made his phone calls, waking people up. He didn’t let it bother him though. The calls would seem that much more important coming before seven in the morning.
Rook was still out cold when Kyle went back to her. He had never gone into an unconscious mind before, unless Shaw counted, and was uncertain how to proceed. Usually he would listen to what someone said and follow an unspoken thought in, but right now Rook had no thoughts at all, didn’t even appear to be dreaming. Kyle sat beside her on the bed and lifted her head in both hands. Pressing his fingers against her temples, he concentrated on letting his will flow out through his fingertips, and found himself in unfamiliar territory. Cold moonlight on shaggy evergreens, silence.
Kyle observed Rook’s mind as she idled. A shiver ran through him as he absorbed her slight vibrations. The subtle electrical impulses underlaying everything around him were exquisitely sensuous, like her scent. Incredibly intimate, something he hadn’t felt with anyone else. Erotic as hell.
The chaotic architecture of her mind consisted of derelict facades, rotting, half-completed walls like a ghost town. Things Kyle thought of as the usual cues to a person’s psyche weren’t where he expected them to be, or were missing altogether. When she woke up he would observe the workings and should be able to make better sense of things.
A large, pulsating mass drew his attention. He’d never seen anything like it in anyone else’s mind. The dull surface looked like moldy elephant hide, but prodding it with his toe split it open and the noxious innards seeped out. Within the rancid film festered a Pandora’s box of negative emotions, a green-black sludge of everything she suppressed upon learning of Fin’s death. The little that escaped when Kyle poked caused Rook to stir. Kyle felt overwhelming sorrow, and fanned the oozing tar of despair with his hands to try to make it skin over again faster. He needed to vent all the unpleasantness or it would spill into her conscious mind and make her unmanageable.
Exploring further, Kyle discovered the source of the green-black stuff. Rook indeed had a tower in here, though it bore little resemblance to her tattoo. The slime seeped out where a gaping hole had been battered into one wall. But there were no flames. Not right now, anyway. Kyle remembered the bad shit that went down in Fin’s head and was reluctant to expose himself to that sort of thing again. The tattoo could be a warning.
The tower was the root of something, many things. Maybe everything. She was supposed to be special, to Complete him. Whatever made her special was probably locked up in this tower. There might be constructs representing Fin. If he could find and alter them, he could change her mind about his dear departed brother.
Kyle talked himself into entering.
Inside, he found a layer of the green-black ooze several inches thick. It covered the floor and a collection of ramshackle lumps against the far wall.
Recoiling a bit, Kyle scraped some of the algae off the largest of the lumps and uncovered a ribcage. Further exploration produced five mostly complete skeletons and three additional skulls. Obviously they were important.
Carting the skeletons back to his own mind proved challenging. They were information he couldn’t assimilate because he didn’t understand it. Instead, he opted for brute force, and it left him reeling.
As his headache subsided, Kyle retrenched in order to take care of the pile of Fin-trauma before Rook woke.
Kyle knew he couldn’t disperse that much ugly emotion all at once without leaving signs. Best to hide it for now and deal with it more thoroughly later. Locating the empty foundation of a tiny cottage, he drew his entire will down through his fingertips and into Rook’s mind. He pushed the pile over to the gaping foundation. Feelings seeped into him. A sorrow, a longing filled him. Kyle sobbed involuntarily, aching for Fin. Pain like an icicle in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. He lifted the leading edge of the mass over the lip of the foundation and shoved. The pile slithered over and landed with a splat. The foundation, weak and soggy, caved in as the mass of black gelatin shifted over it. Kyle felt somewhat better. It wasn’t pretty, but it would do. He struggled to rid himself of the foreign emotions that leached into his soul.
He needed something to throw over the top so Rook wouldn’t experience this. She would thank him if she knew.
Rook turned her head and made a soft noise. She would be awake any second now. Knowing it would cost him, Kyle peeled the top layer off a section of his own mind. It hurt like hell, like mental rug burn. He laid the strip over the emotion pit in Rook’s mind. Quickly
he tucked away the loose edges of worry so she would be less likely to trip over them, and scattered a few rosy thoughts about himself. Kyle let most of his consciousness drift back into his own head, but left a small portion with Rook to monitor the modifications after she woke up.
Tendrils and wisps of faintly green light, like static electricity, flitted over everything, including Kyle. It felt wonderful and prickly and made him shudder. His handiwork attracted the sparks. Kyle feared they might expose him, but they rocketed away.
Rook opened her ghostly blue eyes and laboriously focused on Kyle’s face. She smiled weakly. “You win.”
Kyle grinned. “There’s a good girl.” He lifted her head and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She complied without enthusiasm, but from his internal vantage point Kyle detected stirrings of arousal.
Intriguing ideas about how to exploit his newfound mental abilities brought a chuckle, and a different kissing technique. In a matter of seconds Kyle determined that what really got Rook’s motor running was an alternation between sucking on her tongue and nibbling her bottom lip. He knew he had it dialed in when the lighting shifted inside her mind, making everything both clearer and softer-edged at the same time. She was hyperaware of her body’s responses but was fighting them. Still kissing her, Kyle traced her arousal to its source. Rook’s libido was like a black fox; wary, alluring and ready to pounce. Kyle scratched it behind the ears.
Rook brought her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him to her, returning the kiss.
That was more like it. With help from the glossy libido creature, Kyle continued to refine his technique, using his insider knowledge to guide his hands and mouth and play Rook like a fully immersive, x-rated video game. He was well on his way to the high score when the black fox scampered playfully away and disappeared into a large berry bramble. The part of Kyle’s attention that wasn’t focused on Rook’s body followed the sleek animal into the thicket. Deep, glossy foliage and voluptuous white berries surrounded him with the smell of female arousal. Kyle breathed deeply. It was thrilling to know that, in spite of herself and her ridiculous loyalty to Fin, she wanted him, and had since their interrupted kiss at the factory.
Miss Brandymoon's Device: a novel of sex, nanotech, and a sentient lava lamp (Divided Man Book 1) Page 23
