They stayed like that for a while, taking their time, stringing out the night for as long as they could. Slowly they disrobed. She shuddered with anticipation, her fingers flexing anxiously in his hair and around the nape of his neck. She wasn’t used to making love like this. She wasn’t used to careful intimacy. Aaro smiled as he watched her battle the urge to throw down and tear him apart. She’d forgotten how to be gentle.
He didn’t mind either way. The important thing was that they were there together. But if she was happy to allow him to, he wanted to take his time. There really was no need to rush. Sunrise was a long way off. When her shirt came over her head, her hair tumbled out and dropped on to her back in a long, thick plait. Aaro tossed it over his shoulder and let his fingers dance across her skin. They traced the line of her ribs and ran over her back to her shoulders. His arms were around her now and her breathing had become shallow. She held her elbows close to her body, taught and expectant. He found her bobble and slowly tugged it loose. He knew this reaction well. He knew her body well. She often had it when he touched her like this. He knew it came with a deep ache. A physical longing for love. He could take her now, and she’d like him to. She wanted him to. But he wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t be rushed.
She shook her head and her hair rippled to life, breaking away from itself and then reforming like a stream of molten iron. It gave new life to her face. He brushed a thumb over her chin and took a strand from the corner of her moistened, glistening lips. Her face had taken on a serene quality now, a softness that she lost when her hair was pulled back. That was her mask. A way to show the world that she was ready for anything, and could give as good as she got. That she could work and that she could weld as well as anyone else clawing for survival inside the walls. And Aaro loved that about her. But now, she was naked. Not in a sense that she was without her clothes, but more so that she was without her mask. Her hair hung messy over her face and framed it. Her eyes shone as she looked at him. She was beautiful. Real. Exposed. The confident, fearless woman before him trembled at his touch. Intimacy had evaporated from her life a long time ago. It wasn’t commonplace these days and definitely not flaunted any more, but here, without distraction, shut away from the world, they could be lovers, and they could be in love.
A wave of pleasure hunger up in Aaro as Sorina hung her head back. Her hair writhed and her back arched. Her chest rose and fell with her breath. His hands found her and she groaned quietly, closing her eyes. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her stomach and felt his own eyes close.
She locked her legs around his back and took to kissing him passionately, pulling herself against him. His hands ran wild over her body, moving everywhere, their skin slick with sweat.
They continued for most of the night, making love well into the early hours of the morning. Twice they’d gotten up to finish the champagne, ordering another two bottles at around one and then finishing them by around three. They’d showered and then started again not long after. And now, at almost five, they’d finished, utterly spent, satisfied and drained — both emotionally and physically. Sorina was slumped across Aaro, nestled against his chest, her hair in a pool around his neck. Her lashes shimmered gently as she dreamt, her breathing quiet, contented, and slow. Aaro held her, listening to it, feeling her heart against his ribs. He caressed her slowly, making ringlets of her hair around his fingers. He just lay there, staring at the darkened ceiling, stealing a glance at the clock every now and then.
There was no sleep tonight.
He couldn’t. He was glad Sorina could though. At least this way she would wake and they would go. It would be horrible if they both had to lie there, wallowing in that sea of what if in which Aaro was adrift. In just under an hour the alarm would sound and they would solemnly dress and make their way to the plant. Aaro sighed and swallowed. Sorina grumbled as he did and curled a little more tightly against him. He smiled and kissed her head. The dim glow from the streetlights on the street far below the window crept in through the window like a faux dawn, and the ticking of the clock only reminded him that time was constantly counting down.
With a wave of unease, he decided he needed the bathroom. He didn’t but he felt claustrophobic in bed. He entered and stood over the toilet for a minute just in case. Nothing. With a dejected exhale he turned away and re-entered the bedroom. Sorina had usurped his warmth and moved into his space in bed. She was still sound asleep and was nuzzled into the depression in the pillow he’d just left. He told himself that it was too risky to return to bed lest he wake her, so his attention turned elsewhere. They’d been told when they were shown to the room the night before that everything was taken care of. Any food or drink they’d need they should just ask for and it would be paid for. They’d eaten dinner downstairs and were too full to order anything else to eat. And the champagne had been waiting for them when they arrived so they’d not needed to even go near the minibar that sat in the corner. But now the champagne had run dry and it would wake her if he ordered anything from downstairs.
He knelt and opened the small fridge, the internal light painting him blue as he did. Inside he found what he wanted, and holding them between his fingers, he pulled out two miniature bottles of whiskey. Two measures in each. He pulled the caps off and reached for a glass. He gently turned it over and then emptied them into it. Four measures. And it was decent whisky. He dropped the empty bottles into the wastebasket and nudged the fridge closed with his foot. He moved towards the window and stood framed in it, filling his mouth every now and then with the bittersweet burn of the liquor. The horizon sky had burned from indigo to violet and would surely break to red and then fade to yellow after that. Aaro looked down into the plastic cup and wished it was fuller. He wondered how long the buzz would last.
He hoped it would be a while. He prayed it would be a while. With a sigh and another mouthful, he turned his attention to the sky once more, trying his best to shut out the ticking of that incessant clock.
It didn’t work.
Another mouthful. Violet sky. Another mouthful. Red. Last mouthful. Orange. Then, the alarm started to ring. Aaro sighed.
It was time.
NINETEEN
THE BEGINNING
2108 AD
The car rocked one last time.
The springs groaned horribly and then fell still and silent. With his eyes closed he couldn’t see it, but the very distinctive and dull thuds of four heavy, clawed paws, followed by the slither of a long, thick tail on the asphalt, told him that the monster was definitely out of the car. The question was whether it was behind him or in front of him. Under the vehicle, in that enclosed space, the sounds from the world surrounding became garbled and static. The faraway rush of water in the river below was a background din punctuated by the strange and warped chugging of a nearby engine.
He breathed slowly, willing himself to open his eyes, to at least see the direction from which his death was coming.
A low hiss and throaty growl gave him the strength, or maybe the fear, to look. He opened his eyes and squinted through the darkness and the dust. There, ahead of him, on the far side of the car, no more than a metre from his face, was one of them. It was crouched low to the ground, its tail raking back and forth behind its hulking body, casting dirt into the morning air. It had been alerted either by the sounds Aaro had made, or by his smell alone, but either way, it had its yellow eye locked on him. It was pressed hard against the ground but its bony, bulbous body was far too big to squeeze under the car, and it seemed to know that. It stared at him with lazy anger from the side of its head. Its eye, almost the size of a snooker ball, was slashed vertically like a crocodile’s, with a deep black crevasse for a pupil, shrouded in a molten copper mottle. Aaro stayed perfectly still as the beast cocked its head slightly, flexing the knotted muscles in its jaw in anticipation, probably wondering why there was a meal hidden under a car and why it wasn’t running and screaming like all the others had.
It lifted its head slowly and stret
ched one of its strangely humanoid arms out to the side, scratching at the ground just in front of Aaro with hooked talons. Maybe it thought that Aaro was injured or dead already, but whatever the reason, it showed no urgency. Maybe it was just full already.
Its paw fell short of Aaro and the claws dug into the road, gouging chunks out with unnerving ease. It realised it couldn’t reach with seeming interest and returned to looking, its entire head filling the space that Aaro’s body didn’t. Its snake-like lips peeled apart and it hissed again, its forked tongue slapping against its thin and pointed teeth. It was growing impatient.
Aaro braced himself and took his weight on his arms.
The monster froze. It could see he was doing something and it started to move forward under the car, pushing it upwards on its springs. Its neck and head squeezed, almost reaching Aaro. He could smell the blood on its breath like rust.
He swore in fear, his heart slamming against the inside of his ribcage. The stench of death filled the undercarriage. The thing growled like a wolf, it’s lips folding and kinking at its gums as it spat flecks of saliva at him. He shuffled backwards and the beast kept coming. It rolled itself from left to right, worming its way forward, threatening to lift the car clean off the ground to get to him
Aaro had hoped that it would get stuck by now and maybe, just maybe give him some sort of chance at a head start. Though he didn’t know to where.
He swallowed hard, moving faster. He was exposed from the waist down now and the Vara kept coming, driving itself forward with powerful hind legs. It was going to roll the entire car if it had to, and it seemed like it was certainly capable of doing so.
But then it stopped. Aaro was out from under the car before he realised, still propped up on his hands. He was unprotected, and the beast saw it. It growled once more and quickly backed up, dragging itself into the open air surprisingly quickly. The car sighed and settled and then he was looking right at it between the wheels. On reflex, Aaro jumped to his feet, and in unison, so did the Vara. It reared up onto its back legs now to see him fully, standing at well over two and a half meters, staring across the roof of the car. It hissed, streams of milky saliva running from its mouth. The skin on its neck twitching and shivered.
Aaro narrowed his eyes, racking his brain for any option. Running was out of the question. He could go for the river again but he didn’t like that idea. He was still cold from the first time and he didn’t think he had the strength to outswim the current twice. He grimaced at the thought, wondering how long it would take for the Vara to pounce.
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he reached down and put his other shoe on, bringing his foot up so he wouldn’t have to stoop. It watched him curiously, eager for the chase. Wanting him to run.
He slotted his heel into the boot and saw the Vara lift its crooked arms, bringing them higher and tighter to its tree-trunk body. He could see it leaning forwards, bracing itself to jump. One leap and it would be on him. That’s all it would take. He had to be quick. The monster squared itself and Aaro reached forward. With one last breath and a sudden burst of adrenaline, he moved.
The beast leapt.
It happened in a blur.
The door to the car in front of Aaro opened and he was suddenly inside. He heard the beast hiss in surprise as it sailed over the top of him, sliding wildly over the roof of the car, the scrape of claws on metal frantic and angry as it tried to change its direction mid-leap.
Aaro didn’t look back to see if it had. He clambered madly forward and opened the other front door.
He flopped out onto the road on the other side and rolled over, kicking it closed with a loud thump. Before a second had passed there was a loud scrabbling, the cracking of plastic, and the tearing of cloth. Steam flooded across the windows, its breath hot and close in the cold air.
The monster was inside once more, blind to anything but its prey. Its breath misted on the glass and its eyes flared with hate. It clawed at the door and tore the trim to shreds. Its jaw hinged open, teeth raking at the glass. If it wasn’t before, now, it was definitely angry.
But it wasn’t over yet, the other door was still open and in a second it would realise that and turn around. Aaro moved back from the car and stepped side to side. The beast’s head followed him, still screaming its rage-filled, growling cry. He started to move towards the back of the car and once more the beast tried to follow. It twisted inside the cabin and squirmed into the back, scraping now at the back window, destroying the parcel shelf with its claws, its entire body awkwardly filling the interior. Aaro had counted. Four seconds it had taken the monster to climb into the back. That meant he had four seconds to get the other door closed before he came face to face with the thing, with nothing but fear between them.
He clenched his fists and took a hard breath. The Vara froze. He ran.
It was more like a bound to the door. He landed next to it and fired his left foot behind him, shunting it closed as hard as he could. The latch snapped shut and he stumbled forward catching himself on his hands, the loose stones on the road cutting into his palms. He turned and stood to face the trapped creature. Its eyes had gone wild with rage, and it threw itself around inside the car with reckless fury. But it was useless. The car was a well built German sedan, and Aaro knew the windows to be shatter-resistant, the chassis tough. So, unless it thought to pull the handle then it wasn’t going to break out of there with ease.
Aaro laughed hollowly in the meagre victory, hearing his own voice ringing from somewhere else, from someone else, like he wasn’t in control of it.
A loud crack rang out and the car lurched. The Vara threw itself against the door and the trim shattered, the metal behind it bowing. The car pitched heavily and pieces of plastic splintered off the console and fired around the inside of the car like shrapnel. The Vara charged again and the door shuddered.
Aaro flinched.
It did it again and the window shook. A crack lanced across it like spider silk.
Aaro backed up a little bit.
The beast kept its eyes locked on him. It charged again and the door bent out of the frame, the metal twisting under the impact.
Aaro stepped steadily backwards now. Sticking around would be plain stupidity. But before he could turn and run, something else happened. Something even worse than the door breaking.
The Vara took a seat behind the glass, as if waiting. Aaro didn’t have chance to wonder what for before the Vara filled its chest and hung its head back, its spines rising to jagged points down its back.
It howled.
A bone-chilling, long, pained cry that cut through the doors and windows of the car like they weren’t even there. Aaro froze and listened, rooted in place, until it finally ceased. It might have gone on ten seconds or a few minutes, he couldn’t say, but his body wouldn’t move all the while.
When it did finish, the beast just looked at him, lowering its head slowly. He knew it was his imagination but he could have sworn that it looked smug. Like it was smirking.
Aaro willed his legs to move and he turned, expecting the violent shunting of the Vara against the door to continue, but it didn’t.
In the distance, dim in the wind at first, came the answer that the trapped Vara had requested. It had called for help and one replying howl turned into two, then four, and then after that, the noise steadily rose until a pack a hundred strong could have been calling for their lost brother. Aaro swallowed, but this time he made sure not to freeze. If there were more coming, and a lot more, then he was going to make damn sure he was nowhere near that bridge by the time that happened.
He was already running, and he was running hard.
TWENTY
PLAYING GOD
2082 AD
The flight was smooth and at just before seven in the morning local time, Gertlinger’s plane touched down in Geneva.
The pilot pushed the reverse thrusters into overdrive and the aluminium tubed decelerated unnaturally quickly, much to the dismay of his st
omach. It was always his least favourite part and he grimaced as his organs all crushed forward inside his body. He breathed through the nausea and disembarked as quickly as he could. He’d flown first class, supersonic, as he always did these days, but he still wasn’t fond of the whole ordeal. He always felt happier when his feet were on solid ground.
He churned through customs, skipped the suitcase carousel — he always went carry-on — and then exited the terminal into the milky dawn that had settled over Geneva’s outskirts. He drew a lungful of fresh air and then dug into his coat pocket for his cigarettes. With practised precision, he pulled one from the packet, popped it between his teeth and lit it. He sucked hard and looked down at his lighter, a brushed steel flick with a Latin phrase etched onto it.
He read the words under his breath. ‘Per aspera ad astra.’ He let himself smile, albeit abjectly. It was a present from Angela for their engagement, back when she wasn’t such a horrid, bitter bitch. She’d given it wrapped loosely in paper, without much ceremony, as was her way. She said it was fitting. ‘Through hardship to the stars.'
They’d both laughed at that — and then she said it was also inscribed on the crest of a popular brand of cigarettes, the ones that Gertlinger smoked when he’d first picked up the habit. He hadn’t known, so he’d been touched by that. That she’d remembered such a useless and obscure detail about him, and had the foresight to incorporate it into a gift. He gazed longingly at the lighter for a moment more before putting it back into his pocket. He let a long plume of smoke drift from his lips and cast a glance left and right. As he did, a black town car with tinted windows rounded the corner and loped quickly towards him. It pulled up at the curb and the window wound down. A youngish man with slicked back black hair leaned out and smiled nervously at him. ‘Doctor Gertlinger, sorry I’m late. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long. I’m Felix, your driver.’
The Veil Page 13
