Hush (The Infected: Ripped to Shreds Book 1) (20 page)

She grinned, forcing it and shook
her head.

"One thing. Well, two
really, but you'll get briefed on that after dinner. I..." She nearly
froze, then realized that to him, like Mary, being strong was a good enough
reason to do a lot of things. "I'm the killer that people came to look
for. Trivia is here, you saw that?"

Without more than a minor note
that they'd finished the one task they had, the man nodded, his happy outer
expression not changing in the slightest.

"Ah? I
did
see her
and Lady Rachel coming in earlier. I can't help but notice that you still have
your freedom? Isn't the custom here to lock away those that displease the
rules?" Not the rulers, which was funny, but the very concept of steady,
regular laws was a new one for him. A thing he
liked
. He found the idea
greatly superior to simply being set for trial in his homeland.

That basically meant being
blamed, with no effort to find the proof, often without being allowed to
actually speak in your own defense in many places. In this world you could be
accused of even the worst crimes, and suffer no more than an
investigation
.
At times they even tried to show you were
innocent
, and if they found
that was true, the entire system would drop the whole thing, and allow you to
walk away. Unharmed, and without trial by combat or ordeal.

So he was asking simply because
he didn't understand at the moment.

She shrugged, and looked away,
then passed the food over, smiling.

"Trivia wants to use me, so
that she can do less work. Not that she seems lazy, but she wants to have
someone doing basically the same thing, if in a different place. Not that I'm
in
her
league. So we're blaming my desire to kill on my first mode.
Honestly, I don't know if that's the truth. They want to give me some
experimental treatment, to see if it will work on women. That beats dying, so I
guess I get to do that instead of prison. Not that they won't kill me if I try
to escape. I should get you to help train me so I can do that." She was
joking, of course.

Hobbs, looked her up and down,
which didn't even have a sexual overtone, and then nodded.

"You have a weakness of
form, but are fit already. There are worse places to start from. Holding clear
thoughts, meditation it is called here, might serve to help you resist the
desire to kill. Master it, perhaps, if it turns to be outside the Infection
which plagues you. All things you do are subject to choice. If I agree to aid
you thus, will you submit to my rule? Do what I say, even when you don't wish
to? It is a hard course, and there will be much of pain, and discomfort. Also
great skill, if you can earn it."

Cin shook her head, but smiled.
He just used language in a funny way. There was almost no real accent to it,
but the words were very different from normal.

She decided to be blunt, not
caring yet what he thought. The idea wasn't a bad one, since the man was the
best fighter in the world, or very close to it. If she could learn that, it
wouldn't hurt. Also, he hadn't balked at the idea of teaching her how to get
away. That was really interesting.

"So, do what you say? So I
have to take it up the ass for you?" She knew it hadn't been what he
meant, reading that, but the man, used to fighting with words too, not just
fists or weapons, nodded instantly.

"Aye, at need. From myself,
from others...
Whatever
I ask of you. I had not thought to push any of
my current students in that way, but it may serve for some lesson in the
future. If so, then you will do it?" He actually
expected
her to
say no, she realized.

Which would be foolish, because
even if she tried and failed,
trying
would be a good way to get him on
her side. She could, in effect earn his respect. Even if she wasn't good enough.

"Alright. When do we
start?"

The man smiled, or more to the
point, kept smiling since he'd done that the whole time, but he meant it then,
and gave a single slow nod that was nearly a tiny bow.

"On the morrow? At light of
day, we shall meet, and work until other tasks present. If not then, we shall
move the effort to the next day. I shall test you, and see what might be of
need. Now, if you would go and reassure the others that you have not left me
rent and dying out here?"

That was a joke. The man could
have killed her without even emptying his hands,
or
dropping the food. So
instead of bothering to feel butthurt over it, she gave a small wave and turned
to go inside. "See you later. Probably in about an hour? Trivia wants to
talk to everyone. I mean, not me, but I already know. Kind of what I do."
Other than kill. The idea that she wasn't going to get to now left her feeling
sad.

It was her favorite thing, and
these people were going to steal it from her. It was more than that. Her life
had revolved around it for years, and now... She felt empty already. Her soul
was going to be stripped away, and only survival was left.

Going in she was looked at, and
it was clear that everyone was kind of surprised to see her. Plus she had two
pieces of pie on the table, obviously meant for her. They were huge too. She
could eat and not get too fat, but she was comfortably full already. Not that
she was saying no. The peanut butter cream pie looked as good as any she'd ever
seen.

Settling in, she made her report.
There was no reason not to, and life being done or not, she wasn't dead yet. If
she could live, it was possible that, in the future, she might manage to
escape. Somehow.

Brie the bitch covered her mouth,
smiling and chewing at the same time over her thoughts. Brian just looked at her,
working things out that were a bit surprising. Somehow he'd gotten that Bridget
was able to tell the future on some level, from what she and Trivia had said.

She waved toward the garage.

"All clear so far. I updated
him on how you're all evilly keeping me from having anything good in life, and
he agreed to train me, so I can escape later, as long as he and his buddies can
do me up the behind whenever they want. So it will have all the fun of prison
without the aids." The man had been a
lot
nicer than that, and
wouldn't ever do anything like that at all, unless it really did come up as
needed for training, but she was feeling a little bit upset, she knew.

Feeling pissy and whiny, thanks
to the idea that her life was well and truly over now. Upset at the loss of her
one good thing. The thrill of killing those she hated. Those random men that
were too much like her father. Who, while he wasn't perfect, she didn't
actually dislike at all. At least she hadn't before she'd turned over as
Infected.

Before she could apologize, Brie
nodded at the shocked table. Not all of them were, but Ron and Lyn had their
mouths open.

"That's about what was said.
Not that he intends it that way. It's a good idea however. The training parts.
That way
I
don't have to do it all the time. So, it sounds fun to
me." She looked around, and then waved at the seat next to her, indicating
that sitting was a grand idea with a gesture that was both graceful and almost
absent minded. It was, Cin knew, done that way on purpose. "The big point
is that we need to have someone on top of you for the next few months. Three or
four, really. You'll have to make some adjustments, and quit your job here. I
hate to ruin your life, but if the police ever find out that you killed those
people, they will
not
just let it go. They shouldn't either.
We
shouldn't. You don't get a choice in it right now, or not much of one, but
that's the same for all serial killers. The only real difference here is that
we can do something about it. We can rebuild you..." She said that last
bit like it was meaningful, but the reference didn't carry to most of the
people in the room.

Ron however understood it as
being from the opening of an old seventies television program. She read up on
it for a few seconds, about twenty, and then looked at Brie and cleared her
throat.

"Sounds fun. So... I'm going
to some kind of prison thing?" That made sense to her, but she was pushed
on the arm
again
. The hand was pale, but the face wasn't too annoyed
yet. She got the idea.

She was the one that people were
supposed to be asking things, not the other way around. The problem there was
deciding who to check with on that topic. Brian didn't really know what the
plan was that way, and Bridget thought that no one would be able to really keep
her for all that long, so locking her up was a poor plan. They could kill her
at any time, and in almost any location, which wasn't a joke, she found out
almost instantly. Brian held that information, and was even considering how to
best do it. The idea made him... Sad.

That was due to him actually
liking her still. She hid a wince over that one. Not because the guy was bad,
or unpleasant. Really, for a nightmare that could take you out at any moment,
his story was remarkably pure and reasonable. It was simply that she'd been
using him, had gotten caught at it, and the man wasn't able to instantly turn
that part of himself off. She could do that, and so, she realized, could Brie.
Her information was dazzling to get at however. It was a lot less like reading
a book and more like having the library of congress at her fingertips.

Still, in the end the decision
was going to be down to several other people who she'd never even met. Marcia
Turner, and someone named Chris. Christian Pours, who was, despite the name, a
woman. It took her a few seconds to find her, cross referencing from Turner,
who was still worried, and being forced to drink a large quantity of oil at the
moment. That part was baffling, but she didn't take time to research it, since
she had a goal at the moment and getting side tracked with every interesting
bit of life would make everything take far too long.

The thing was, much like with
June, the telepath, when she touched this Chris person, something very
different happened.

A woman appeared in the room with
them, smiling.

It was clear, at first, that no
one else saw the apparition. She had rust red hair, and while she wasn't the
best looking person in the world, her looks were good enough that she could
have gone to most bars and walk out with one of the better looking men without
anyone wondering too hard how that had taken place. The strange thing there was
that her story was strange. It started, very clearly, with her death...

The girl, who looked about
nineteen or twenty, and fit, rather than thin, waved at her.

"Because, you know, the
awesomeness that is me, is a ghost. I'm Becky. Christian pushed me at you to
check up on who was trying to bug her. She isn't always a people person."
There was a glance around and a head shake then. "I didn't guess on
this
.
Here, let me get things set up..." She closed her eyes, and a second later
Ron, across the table, smiled and squeaked at the same time.

Then Bridget stood up, her face
beaming.

"Becky! About time you came.
I was going to invite you, but you don't eat. Did you come to hang with the
cool kids?"

Instead of tell on her, the
ghost, if that's what she was, and it did seem correct, nodded.

"Got it in one Rat-rat. I
didn't want to interrupt the meal, but you all look close enough to done for
the cool chit chat part of things now. I'm here to help babysit the new kid? I
hear that she's into all sorts of kinky stuff, so it should be a good
show." There was a direct look at Cindy while she spoke, but a smile too.

Next to Brie, on the far side,
Brian nodded.

"That... Is actually a good
plan. Cindy is... Well, she's a compulsive serial killer. We don't know if it's
her first mode or not really. She doesn't seem to have physical powers. Mental.
I take it she was trying for you or Christian?" He worked it out as he
spoke, knowing Chris and Becky pretty well. Especially the ghost, who he was
mad at, on a deep level.

Also as close to as anyone could
be. They used to be one being, after a fashion. That part was another of those
interesting tidbits that she just didn't have time to go into when it flashed
up, trying to survive first, as she was.

The solid looking ghost moved
around the table and put her hand on Bridget's tiny shoulder. It looked just
like she was a real person at the moment, but that was telepathic projection.
Being provided by Pours, who was, now that Cin could get some data on her, one
of the most powerful straight ahead telepaths in the world. If not
the
most powerful.

She realized that she'd been
distracted, but still hadn't worked out what was really planned for her. What
Becky here had said was one thing, but what would happen was different. The
story that played out over her head, and looked like the pages of a paperback
novel, told of how Chris didn't really want to be bothered by Cindy, so had
sent her little lackey. The ghost that lived in her head and who handled public
interactions for her, as often as not.

The ghost waved and then wrinkled
her nose cutely. It was a thing that Cin did herself, since it was cute,
without actually meaning much. It seemed believable, without giving anything
away, like that the person doing it actually didn't have emotions on a given
topic.