Harsh Lessons (20 page)

The confusion cleared.  With renewed determination she reached up behind her, awkwardly wriggling till she could unbutton the top of her denim cutoffs.

He drew his breath in harshly.

In the silence that followed, she once again heard the chirp, ever so faintly, this time stretched into a whine like a tiny mosquito.  An ultrasonic motor.  Like a camera's focusing mechanism.  Her eyes widened. 
Nelson
.  She was sure.

Her uncle pulled down her shorts and underwear.

Her resolve not to speak almost broke, then.  She wasn't even sure anymore
why
she'd made the stupid resolution.  Reasons to break it swarmed through her mind.

He hadn't moved for the longest time, but suddenly she felt him tense, and a moment later his hand cracked against her bare backside.

Fiercer than the sharp pain was the tide of rage it awoke.  Again the tiny noise of the motor, and her face flushed red in embarrassment at the thought of what Nelson must be seeing.  She imagined his eager face as he perfected the focus of the hidden security camera.

Almost, it was enough to make her speak, to tell her uncle that Nelson was watching.

Smack!

Her muscles locked taut in fury.  Spanked like a child!  And it was
his
fault she was on exhibition.  Her uncle's.

Smack!

Almost, the pain was enough to make her cry out.  But she would never give either of them
that
satisfaction.  She clenched her jaws tight-shut.

Smack!

Twenty five.
  She wanted to cry out, her buttocks a flaming agony, her skin feeling raw.  But each blow just locked her jaw tighter, stoked the anger burning inside.

And the anger was
building
, too, deep within her.  Unfurling.  Feeling strangely like her Unfolding, almost two years ago.

The feeling swelled, pressing against binding walls, straining against them as it grew.  The walls responded, pressing harder.  But the fire fought back, burning hotter.  Each blow feeding it.

Twenty six!
  Inside, the flames banked higher still.  Inner muscles bulged, and finally found purchase on the slick sinews caging them.

Inside, some deeper part of her
dared
him to strike her one more time;
yearned
for it.  She felt the power grow, gaining strength by the moment.  Knowing the next blow would shatter its chains.

Inside, she smiled, feeling her potency.  Sharpness flared at her fingertips, ready. 
Almost there
.  One more blow….  She tensed. 
Throat, or heart?
 
Heart
, she decided, picturing her hand plunging into his chest-

And at that instant, with a gasped inhalation, her uncle froze.  Stopped breathing altogether.  For a moment, she had the sense he panicked.

Then he shifted – just a subtle movement – and in a shockingly intimate caress,
something
slid invisibly through the behemoth straining inside her.  Slithering through the flames, nudging them. 
Turning
them….  She sensed it wrap around and through her thoughts. 
Dredging up images
of Jax, of James, naked.  Prob
ing and caressing, twisting
them up alongside images of her uncle and her in his bed, together… 
Huh…?
  It all churned together, tumbling over and sinking back down. 
What…?

The hand that had been beating her suddenly moved again.  It slipped gently, almost nervously, between her legs, coming to rest there in a startling but compelling touch. 
Unh…?

She felt an echo of his movement through her, as if he'd moved his other hand, and a horribly confusing delight curled around her, deep within, in her chest.

No.  I don't
want
this.  Not now!

But another voice inside her disagreed.  Like a separate, traitorous part. 
«Yes, I do»
it said
. 
«
I want him.  He's my Keepie.  He knows what's best for me. 
I trust him.»

So why did she want to
scream
, in fear and rage?

Memories of her first time suddenly swamped her: his sweating body below hers as she crouched hungrily over him, pounding down onto him, taking what she demanded.

Huh
? 
Why
that
memory,
now
?  She shook her head, confused. Then felt a key turn in her heart, against her will.  Unlocking a warmth that flooded out, staining the rage.

Inside, the giant roared. But its purpose suddenly uncertain-

Her uncle's hand cupped her.   Tenderly.

'Get up,' he whispered.

Spinning off and up from his lap, she faced him, bursting with power.  She felt herself vibrating, the force inside lashing through her, surging now with hungry lust.  Confusing her in a different way.

The giant inside clutched the lust.  Claimed it and devoured it.  Then turned outward; to those walls.  One single moment more-

And he whispered: nonsense words that made no sense.  The chains fell away, her mind suddenly clear, truly clear.  And the giant inside exploded free.

Free, but cheated. 
No-o-o!

A moment of dismay, then every muscle of her body spasmed as she threw her head back.  But
still
with her lips clamped shut; still refusing to make a sound.

The energy smashed and rebounded within, arching her backwards – then finally her head snapped forward.  Staring at her uncle, she took a step toward him, reveling in the fear and awe she saw.  That, and… hope?

But behind her, above, from high in the wall, came a long ultra-sonic chirp as the hidden camera focused on her. 
On my backside
. 

Nelson!

She stopped, swiveling her head slowly to work out exactly where the sound was coming from…? 
There!

Enough!
  Fury smashed through her.  She dropped, twisting, slamming her hand into the chair leg beside her uncle's own.  Snapping it with a sharp crack, she saw his eyes widen in shock as he toppled forward from the chair, like he thought she'd just broken
his
leg.

She leaped through the air, the jagged spear of wood grasped in both hands.  She felt her lips stretch in a savage grin as she plunged the spear into the spying camera.  Like the elven Valkyrie in Demons-bane, slaying the Beast.

For several seconds she just stood, arms still raised over her head, panting, perched somehow on the back of his sofa.  Releasing the length of wood that now impaled the belly of her enemy, she twisted her head back to her uncle, and saw him look up from the dismembered chair to stare at her like she'd gone mad.

He opened his mouth.  'What-?'

She sprang from the sofa, turning in the air to face him, shaking her head once to order him to silence.  Taking the collar of her denim jacket, she ripped outward, the material tearing like it was rotten.  With tingling fingertips she sliced her bra free, letting it too fall to the floor.

She took a step toward him, allowing him to see the hunger in her smile.

I'm not too young
now
!

Desire and power flooded through her.  For just a moment, as she saw the answering hunger in his own eyes, she wondered if he'd somehow
made
her feel this way?  Was somehow still controlling her?  But at that thought, the desire surged higher, and she cast the idea aside.

«Of course not.»

Afterward, she lay curled against him, listening to his breathing: now slow and regular, heavy with sleep.

Feeling conflicted.

The faint light creeping under the door gave everything that ghostly gray clarity which she'd worked out, long ago, that others never saw.

As their sweat cooled and dried, as the smells and urgencies faded, and thought returned, she stared at his back, stretched out so vulnerably beside her.

I could kill him so easily now
, she mused, gnawing at her bottom lip.  But there was… it was just so… the thrill of it, like a fire inside, or a great wave. 

What
was
it about him that she found so compelling?  His hooded gaze, the way his eyes burned into hers?  His unshakable certainty in his own powers?  It certainly wasn't his physique!  She stifled a giggle, mentally comparing his lean but aged and ordinary build to James's beautifully-muscled, tight body, then to Dojo's hard, toned perfection, and grinned to herself in the dark. 
Yeah, it's sure not his
body
!

I
should
just kill him
, she thought: for controlling her; for humiliating her.  Surely, he must
want
her to kill him?  But then, that look he'd given her, just before he'd rolled over, to sleep.  Not
trust
, exactly.  But like he knew he was putting his life in her hands; offering himself up to her justice.  Whatever she decided.

And then, too, there was his promise:
I will never abandon you
.

She stared at his long form, lying quietly beside her in the dark, his side moving slightly as he breathed.

Abruptly, unbidden, she remembered the time she'd shown him what she'd secretly taught herself in the old gymnasium at the Institute, back when she was still a child.  Remembered leaping to him from the trampoline, knowing he'd catch her.  The feeling of his arms folding around her, holding her close.

I should still be angry with him.

But the anger was faint, now.  Washed away by the storm that had followed, maybe.

Besides, if she
did
kill him, she'd do it without any co-operation from
him!
  What'd be the point if he made it this easy?  What'd
that
prove?

No, when she bested him, it'd be in a front-on confrontation.

She watched a vein in his neck pulse with sudden force.  She was close enough to hear his steady, strong heartbeat.

Besides, if I do just
end
him, everyone'll say I can't be trusted
.  And she didn't think she could kill them all before Dojo could get her.  Didn't even
want
to.

What she
wanted
was to be here, working with them, helping them.  She was learning so much, especially from Dojo – everything she'd ever dreamed of learning.  And she liked Emma, and James, so much.  And maybe, they liked her a little bit, too.

She felt a smile curve her lips as she slowly nestled her body right up against the length of his, gently winding her arms around him, ever so carefully snuggling close.  He didn't like people touching him: if he woke up now, he'd push her away, maybe even send her back to her room.

She closed her eyes.

And Harmon, with even greater care, disengaged his mindmeld.

Chapter 24 

Detective Marta Sanchez awoke cold and nauseous.  Something squeezed her head in a vise with each pulse of her heart.

Her hands were bound.

It was quiet, too – the normal city sounds gone.    She lifted her head, and a surge of adrenaline cleared the nausea at the sight of her partner, tied upright to a steel rod.  Henderson slumped, his face swollen and bleeding, one eye bruised shut.

The man they'd cornered in the alleyway stood to one side.  Watching.

Below them, the water of the Bay glittered in the night, and looking around she saw they were perched at the edge of the broken Skyway.  She was tied to a lamp-post that leaned to her left, stretching out toward the shattered layers of concrete and the yawning emptiness below.  He'd brought them deep into the Dumps.

'He said he's been working in the soup kitchen, Sanchez.'

Her eyes swung back to her partner, bound to a twisted steel reinforcing cable curving up from the pre-stressed concrete.  He'd been badly beaten.

'He's been turning these people into zombies – he calls it “perfecting them.”  He was doing it in that alley because he'd heard of us, and wanted us out of the picture.  He said everyone says we're the only people in all New Francisco who give an ogre's fart about crime in the area.

'I don't know
what
he is, Sanchez.  Some sort of cybered merc, maybe.  He took me out like I was a kid.'

'Where's the boy?  And the woman?'  Sanchez demanded.

Henderson shook his head.  'The woman went down, and stayed down.  Last thing I heard was the boy wailing, as
I
went down.  You wouldn't believe how strong this guy is.'

'What does he want?'

Why are we still alive?
She was really asking, reading her partner’s expression.  Marta knew Henderson well enough to see the fear he tried to hide.  It told her more than she wanted to know.

She tried her bonds.  Then gritted her teeth.  It felt like their kidnapper had used their own rip-cords against them.  She tried to access her commlink, only to realise a moment later that it had been removed. 
Of course it had.

The man stepped over to them, and she braced herself for the gloats and taunts.

'The boy is in the alley with the mother.'

The voice was noninflected; uninterested.

'His mother's all right?'  She couldn't believe it.

'Unlikely.  The woman's body was much frailer than yours.  The skull cracked.  But that is irrelevant.  Now it is time-'

Sanchez's cursing interrupted him.  Her temper was legendary, and this time she lost it big time. Henderson struggled against his bonds as the man approached his partner, looming before her then reaching out to grip her head.  Sanchez began spitting, thrashing in her bonds, screaming abuse, trying futilely to break free.

'Your anger makes you a stupid animal.  You cannot think.'  The man's hands framed her head, pinning it still despite her fury.  'If you let go of your anger perhaps you can win this contest.  You cannot escape if you do not think.'