“Sorry, the situation with my asset is just too sensitive for us to speak about in public,” she said, the house shoes comfortably on her feet. She took a seat at the table and unwrapped the packaging of her bran muffin.
The blinds parted behind her, Roman’s doing, revealing an industrial area with a few smokestacks in the distance and barely any skyline considering they were on one of the lower floors.
“Please, sit,” Nadine told him, “and to answer your question, we are in eastern Centralia, in a safe house paid for by my government. If I ever take you anywhere, the likelihood of it being in eastern Centralia is high.”
“Good to know,” Roman said as he took a seat. Celia stood next to him, her thigh inches away from his shoulder. “Um, you should sit too.”
There were only two chairs at the table, so Roman used his power to animate the ottoman, its stubby legs coming to life as it walked over to the table and provided a seat for Celia, who sat with one leg crossed over the other.
“Okay, so to pick up where we left off,” Nadine said, pinching off a piece of her muffin. “Firstly, my asset’s name is Lisa. She is a young exemplar from the Southern Alliance with a unique ability that will likely be exploited by someone long after she is done working with me. But I like her. And her ability allows us to basically turn invisible and move at the speed of teleporters, getting through any type of teleportation-preventing metal. And get this: she can actually solidify her form in her spectral state, meaning she can touch objects and open things, just like she can with her real body.”
Roman ran his hand through his hair. “That’s an incredible power.”
“It is. We were at Prison South, looking for information on the Easterners imprisoned there. We bypassed security using her powers, and then we came to a room with a single man sitting in it. I… I don’t know what he was, or what his actual power was, but he was at least a Type II, maybe even a Type I.”
“Think he was a Type V?”
“I really don’t know, but I do know he was able to cut through the umbilical cord of light that tethers Lisa Painstake to her body, which didn’t kill her, but it did prevent her from returning to her corporeal form. I know he was completely made of light, at least after his transformation. And like I said, she didn’t let me stick around to find out if he could do the same to me.”
“Do you think she’ll tell them about you?”
“I…” Nadine broke off another piece of her muffin. She ate it slowly, her eyes not meeting Roman’s for a solid minute. “I really don’t know. That’s why we’re here. I can never go back to the immigration office, and I may have to work toward a new identity for future operations. I’ll have to change my hairstyle, my clothing style; I’ll have some of our modifiers in the East work on other things.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have Type IV Class Es who are hyperintelligent. I mean, that’s what it means to be a Class E, which you very well know.” Nadine finished chewing her muffin. “Basically, there are ways to modify certain things about myself, from my build to even my eye color. But it’s not pleasant.”
“We talking surgery here?”
“Maybe. I really don’t know.”
Roman looked to Celia and shrugged. The doll smiled, her eyes softening as she took him in. “Fine, well, as you probably already know, I’m willing to help in any way I can.” He cleared his throat. “I also need something from you, but I’m not offering a barter here. If you are unable to help me, I understand.”
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
“I need you to erase what I’ve seen and done. I have the hopes of becoming a, ahem, hero of sorts. Or, I guess the best way to put it is I want to use this power I’ve received to help people. But there are some skeletons in my closet that I need to go away, especially if Centralian authorities put me through a telepathic interrogation. Because they always get to that part, at some point anyway.”
“That can be arranged,” Nadine said almost instantly. “As for what can be done with Lisa, I need to speak to Oscar—who has now taken the role of my handler because my original handler is stuck in the East on official business—I’ll know more about what to do next after I’ve spoken to Oscar.”
“There’s more.” Roman looked to Celia, Nadine watching as the doll urged him forward with a nod. “So, I’m about to tell you a lot of information, and I just want you to take it in and let me know what you think about it afterward. Some of it may be useful to you.”
“Go on…”
“Yesterday, I met a Western Province spy who had been trying to blackmail me. Her name is Paris.”
Rather than say anything, Nadine broke off another piece of her bran muffin, squeezing it between her fingers.
“I believe Paris was going to kill me, especially after she had a man known as Ian Turlock attack me. I’m familiar with Ian because I did some immigration paperwork for him. He’s a Type II, Class C, incredibly dangerous…”
“With protrusions sticking out of his arms and a silver necklace that recalls a metal ball of sorts that he uses as a weapon. Sound about right?” Nadine asked.
Roman and Celia exchanged glances. “That sounds like him,” Celia finally said, “but I didn’t see him for very long. Roman transferred all his power into Coma to help him fight the big red man.”
“Finish what you were telling me. Then I will tell you what I know about Ian, and…” She gulped. “What he did to me.”
Nadine still had the bruises running up the sides of her arms, purple and brown bits of evidence that he had manhandled her. She could still feel the skin on her forehead screaming at times from when he’d dragged her up the stairs by her hair.
It was one reason her bun wasn’t as tight as it normally was: Nadine’s scalp hurt.
“Coma and I managed to fend him off,” said Roman. “Actually, if you really want to know how I did it, I animated his protrusions and had them turn inward, essentially killing him by his own weapon.”
“You can modify bone?”
“As far as I know, the only thing I haven’t been able to modify yet is light. I don’t think I can modify shadows either,” he said, his brow furrowing. “So those are my two known limitations as of right now. There may be more, but I’ve been able to modify fire, water, bone, and pretty much anything else.”
“So you killed him.” Nadine couldn’t help but smile at the handsome if not slightly naïve man sitting before her.
Something glowed behind Roman’s orange eyes for a moment as he took in her smile, a smile that faded as he continued to speak. “I did. I went toe to toe with Paris, who has a pretty interesting power—definitely a Type II with her complete elasticity. Hell, no sense in lying, the first time I met her I thought we were going to hook up.” He grimaced. “She ended up assaulting me with her tongue, which is how we started working together in the first place.”
“I’ll bet that was an experience.”
“It was, but I was able to beat her with my new power. I was planning on killing her as well, but then she told me what she was doing, and I didn’t go through with it.” Roman gulped, waiting for Nadine to comment. When she didn’t, he started up again. “Call it an unholy alliance, but I believed her story, still do, and I want to know the truth behind the matter. It may even be related to what you are trying to figure out.”
Nadine raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean the Eastern prisoners?”
“Yes, but this is just a hunch at the moment; you’ll need to verify some of this information and maybe run it past your sources, or whatever you do. See what they say. Because, and maybe I’m stupid for this, but I believe what Paris told me: Centralia has killed all but one of the healers in our world.”
“The healers are all dead?”
“According to her, yes, and there’s only one left. Originally, Paris’s mission was to find out more about healers, which is why she came after me in the first place. She wanted to know if any were immigrating. But—and this is jus
t a guess here because she didn’t reveal her sources—she uncovered some information. And I don’t know how she got it, but it led her to believe there’s only one healer left. She seemed pretty convinced about this.”
Nadine wondered for a moment why she hadn’t been briefed on anything about this before. There were other spies in Centralia working for her government; maybe someone else was working on it, but it seemed like it would have been a pertinent piece of information to know.
“And you think the prisoners and the healers are somehow connected?” she finally asked, not ready to form an opinion on the matter.
Nadine would have to tap her own sources before she could come up with an informed opinion, but she was slightly swayed by the conviction in Roman’s eyes. She wanted to believe him.
Yet she couldn’t forget it was Paris who had told him this, the same woman who had tried to kill Nadine a couple times now.
And Paris, as much as Nadine hated her, was a decent enough spy that she would know how to manipulate someone like Roman, who was new to the scene.
“I don’t know if they’re connected, but someone is up to something.” Roman laughed at his last statement. “I suppose someone is always up to something, but my late wife was never able to get a healer. And I know non-exemplars aren’t always up for healing, but I was a government employee, and from what doctors had told me before, there was a special program. I was even signed up for the program, but no healer ever came along. And seeing as how my wife’s coma lasted for so long…”
Nadine looked from Roman to Celia the doll, noticing the concern on her face. It really was an odd thing to witness, something once lifeless come to life, something without a heart showing just how much it cared.
“Then we will look into it,” Nadine said firmly. “I will talk to my people and see if they have any information on this. If it’s true…”
“It’s true.”
“If it’s true, then you are right, there may be some connection. Now, I think it’s time for me to share with you what I know about Paris, and my experience with her. You see, you weren’t the only one that was busy yesterday.”
Nadine unzipped the sides of her dress, loosening it. She pulled the shoulder of her dress down, showing him the bruises.
“You were attacked?” Celia asked, concern in her voice.
“After I came home from the hospital, I was attacked by Ian in my home. He took me to Paris’s warehouse—dragged me is more like it.”
“How did you escape?” asked Roman.
“I…” Nadine brought her dress back over her shoulder. “That I don’t know. I was in and out of consciousness, and at one point I was in a room—next point I was in an alley, my ring missing.”
“Your ring?”
She showed him her now ringless finger for emphasis. “I will get new tech in the future, but I had on this finger a ring that nullified any power in a six-foot radius of my body. It was gone when I woke up in the alley.”
“So someone saved you…” Roman said.
“Yes, but I don’t know who saved me, and whoever they were, they also took my ring. That is, unless Paris or Ian took my ring. But if that were the case, they would have used it against you.”
Roman relaxed in his chair for a moment, his hand on his head as he took all of this in. Finally, he spoke. “This keeps getting stranger and stranger, doesn’t it?”
“It really does.”
“Somehow,” Roman said, glancing at Celia, “and I truly believe this: all this is related somehow. We just have to figure out how it’s connected, and it may start with the healers.”
“You may be right,” Nadine admitted. “Stranger things have happened.”
“But just to be clear, what do I do about Paris at this point? I’m pretty sure she’ll be contacting me in the future…”
“Let me check with my sources and get back to you on that,” Nadine said as she returned to her muffin. “We shouldn’t trust Paris, but if she has information we don’t have, we definitely should get as much of it as possible.”
Chapter Eight: The Visit
A teleporter appeared, waiting for Roman and Celia to move near her. She was a slender woman with a shaved head and red sunglasses, wearing street clothes, which meant she wasn’t an authorized Centralian teleporter.
They were gone in a spark of green, reappearing in front of an establishment known as Woodward’s Funeral Home. Rather than go directly inside, Roman took a seat at a bench in front of the place. Once he was settled, he slipped his hand in his pocket and reactivated Casper.
“How long was I out?” a tiny voice asked him.
He felt movement in his jacket pocket as she stood, her cat ears peeking out, her arms and hands pushing her weight upward. She now leaned over the edge of his pocket as if it were a banister. The tiny doll yawned, taking in the funeral home’s well-manicured courtyard. “No one can answer me?”
“I didn’t keep track of the time,” Celia said, her face indicating she was trying to hide a smile.
“You know, you’re going to have to introduce me to your friends at some point,” Casper told Roman. “Who knows? Maybe one of them will be cute.”
“I need to contact Emelia about you.”
“Who?” Casper asked, looking up and over to him. “And why do you have such a serious look on your face all the time?”
“Emelia is the person who sent you to me,” he explained, “and she was supposed to send a version of you that is the same size as Celia over here. Life-sized.”
“You can barely handle me now,” Casper said as she adjusted her cat-ear headband. “Who’s to say you could handle me full-sized?” Roman felt her kick a heel into his chest. She did it again, this time using her ass.
“I can return you to sleep mode, you know,” he warned her.
“I slept last night, and I’ll be angry at you if you banish me to that pocket again.”
“You kind of have to go back into the pocket, though, because I need to handle some serious affairs. You see, that’s another advantage of being life-sized—you can blend in better.”
“Ha!” Casper laughed. “Your life-sized friend over here is wearing a slutty superhero outfit that’s halfway exposing her breasts and this is called blending in? Are we trying to blend in to the red-light district?”
Celia removed her exemplar-themed headpiece and handed it to Roman, letting her red hair spill out. “You can put this in your pocket,” she told him. “It folds.” From there, she began braiding her hair, a chiseled smile on her face.
“She’s really cute, isn’t she?” Casper asked as Roman folded the headpiece. “I can see why you picked this one. Now, Coma, not so much. But I never really liked people with black hair. I like your hair color, though. White, the color of wisdom. It’s a saying, isn’t it?”
Roman nodded, aware that all his creations took some of his knowledge when he animated them.
He had a hunch regarding what part of his personality he had imbued into Casper, and hanging out with her little bit more would solidify this assumption. Coma had taken his aggressive side, Celia his softer side, and Casper something else entirely.
His thoughts were interrupted by a message from Harper, the waitress he’d put on the back burner for a while: Hi, Roman! I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if you were free today. I hope you’re well, and that your week isn’t too stressful. If you’re around your place today, let me know, or stop by the bar tonight and have a drink on me. Bring Coma as well.
Roman recalled the waitress with the short hair, her eyes spread wide apart. She was a unique beauty, with a sexual prowess he hadn’t been expecting. Maybe he would reach out to her tonight—maybe.
But he knew better.
“Why don’t you keep me in your hand for a while?” Casper asked. “I’m tired of being in this pocket. It’s so cramped in here.”
“You’re going to hate me for this,” Roman said, “but I think it’s time you go back to sleep for a while. I won’
t keep you asleep for very long, and you can be awake for the rest of the day, promise.”
“Wait!”
And with that, Casper froze in place, her hands still raised at Roman. Very carefully, he lifted the tiny doll out of his pocket and returned her hand to her side. It was strange holding her like that, cupping her in the palm of his hand, able to adjust her joints despite the stiffness to her actual form.
Once she was curled up some, he placed her back in his pocket. Then he stood, took a deep breath in, and turned to the entrance of the funeral home, Celia’s hand going into his instantly.
“I saw you in my dream last night,” Roman told his wife, who lay in the casket, her body covered in a white cloth that framed her face.
It was a traditional way for Centralians to be buried, something about putting one’s best face forward that came from an old religious practice.
“She’s so beautiful,” Celia said, her purple eyes flickering as she took in the dead woman’s form.
Roman wished he could remove the white cloth and see her hair. He wished he could pull her into his arms once more and hold her small form, but he knew what was done was done, and the secret he’d been holding for so long was finally releasing its hold on him.
But separation anxiety was a real thing, and as he wiped his white hair out of his face and leaned over the casket, taking in his wife’s form once more, burning it into his memory, recalling all their experiences in that single moment, his eyes closed now, the room dead silent, Roman felt a sense of longing and hurt that he knew would linger long after he left the funeral parlor.
The faint smell of cinnamon wafted through the air, something the funeral home had spritzed on Celia’s funeral gown.
He inhaled it deeply, finally opening his eyes and seeing his wife for the last time.
In that instant, Roman had the urge to will her alive.
It was just a thought at the back of his mind, something anyone would think when looking at a dead loved one.
House of Dolls 2 Page 6
