Synthetic Dreams (9 page)

“I can’t go with you.”

Vyn stared at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You can pass through here. I can’t.”

He touched her jaw, fingers slipping in an easy slide to her chin. His mouth covered hers. A slow,
slow
tasting that almost curled her toes. Did he really do everything as well as he kissed? All thought simply stopped and she gripped the material of his jacket, wanting him closer, wanting more of him. All of him. He eased back and a soft sigh escaped her.

“Thank you.” His words were just above a whisper.

She licked her lips, tasting him. “For what?”

“For trying to rescue my brother.”

A wry smile tugged at her mouth. “A cynical bribe, Paul?”

“If you want to call it that.” He pressed another soft kiss against her lips before grazing his teeth across her bottom lip. The wicked darkness in his eyes, fleeting, unexpected, caused her heart to miss a beat. “When he’s free, my body is at your disposal.”

Vyn swallowed and found her voice, though it was husky and stilted. “You’re a bad man.”

“For you, I will be.”

Her thoughts evaporated. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? She willed herself to step back, her hands coming up to put a further barrier between them. “Then that’s a date.” She needed to step through the portal…to end up who knew where. Her nerve wobbled, but they had no other way out.

“I know that you’ll need the simulacrum.”

“All right.” She pressed her fingertip to her mouth and gave him a quick nod. She had to go before her nerve failed her. With another breath, she’d stepped through.

Pain and light took her, searing in hot lines over her skin. Around her and through her, silver sparks chased in endless spirals, falling in on each other. She sensed…something. Something familiar, almost as if a mirror spun around her, reflecting an image of herself into infinity.

In a blink, it was gone.

Vyn’s eyes shot open, her pulse too fast. She caught her fingers in her still-damp and tangled hair and stared across to a smooth metal wall. Beyond the grip of the portal was a small room, sparsely lit from a single sconce. Vyn rolled onto her back and stared up, surprised to see the metal vent they’d climbed down. Her heart thudded and she jumped to her feet. Bodies lay around her, breathing, their minds caught in the tier that showed an infinite maze of tunnels. Only her skin, the organic circuit cut into her flesh, let her escape the trap.

Paul lay beside her, a crumpled mass, his cheek pressed against the metal floor. Behind closed eyelids, she could see the quick darting movements of his corneas, the sign that he was aware, awake and trapped in the Mind tier. She traced her index finger over the perfection of his cheek, feeling the slight prick of bristles. “Don’t go anywhere. You and I have plans.”

She straightened and stared up into the vent. The possibility of escape flitted across her thoughts and vanished just as quickly. She could get out and run, but where could she hide? Her building was destroyed, which meant all that she owned she carried on her back. She wanted to trust that Paul had a plan after she freed Liam, one that would get her beyond the reach of the Corporation.

Vyn toed another body. He was out cold too, his mind caught in the tier. She kicked him over and went through his pockets, looking for anything that would identify him. There was nothing. She felt around his neck, the back of his ears, his scalp. No obvious implanted gear either. One of the invisible agents—she glanced back to the man behind her—much like Paul Cross.

“Well, what now?” Vyn stood and stared around the small room. Swinging her bag from her back, she opened it and searched inside for the simulacrum case. It took her only a short minute to attach the receptors to her skull and wrap the net around her body.

She stretched her spine, the quick fizz of the gear driving adrenalin through her flesh. The air tasted hot in her mouth, metallic, and around her the surge of energy screeched over her scars. She gritted her teeth. This was going to hurt. Damn Paul Cross, his body better be worth it.

Around her, the flickers and points of light of another portal tugged at her, dragging at her skin, her muscles, stabbing and hooking. Her fingers curled into her palms, drawing blood with sharp nails. She breathed, focused on the rise and fall of her chest, on the air pushing out of her mouth and drawing into her lungs, and denied the pain.

A new tier, a new layer in the virtual world of the Corporation’s Mind, ripped over her and yanked her into a long room. Green-glowing pods hung from the low unlit ceiling, each one holding a naked body in gelatinous liquid, locked in a foetal position. The air was chilled, close to freezing, and she shivered.

She stared down at her body. She’d left the simulacrum open and unprogrammed. No pneumatic blonde disguise as she had no idea what or who she should be in this room. She was tall now, stretching easily over a metre eighty. The dim light revealed a man’s hand, smooth, with manicured nails, the sharp cuff of a tailored jacket sleeve dropping down over the wrist.

Vyn brought fingers to her face and touched hard male lines, a firm jaw. She stretched her shoulders and felt the ease, the power in her new body. The image felt smooth, perfect, a completely different experience from the pneumatic blonde. Yet more of something feeling…right. But who the hell was she?

She stretched her jaw, hearing, feeling it crack. “Release Liam Cross.”

Her voice froze. Curses ran hot and fast through her mind. It couldn’t be. She caught her fingers in her hair, pulling strands down to get an idea of colour. Blond. Her body shook—the response reflected perfectly in the body mask she wore—and she fought to control it. All right. She was exactly who she thought she was.

It didn’t matter. She was already dead for so many other reasons. They couldn’t kill her again for impersonating this man. Her plan had to be find Liam and get his mind out of the tier.

“Release Liam Cross.” She put more command into the familiar voice, imagining his intonation, the particular hint of condescension that set her teeth on edge.

“Recognised. Lucas March-Goodman, CEO, March-Goodman Corporation.”
A synthetic voice reverberated around the endless room.
“Liam Cross is released.”

“It can’t be this easy.”

“Unrecognised request.”

“Ignore.” She scrubbed her hands over her mouth and jaw, feeling the rough scrape of bristles against her palm. “Where is Liam Cross? Which—” she squinted into the gloom, deciphering the lettering over the pods, “—husk is he in?”

A low groan filled the room, and the endless lines of husks swayed before jerking forward or backwards or sideways. Vyn stood still, her chin lifted, being the calm statue of the man she had seen on too many broadcasts. He’d broken with family tradition and didn’t hide his image, declaring he had no fear of the Fomorians and their need to replicate him. More fool him.

She blinked as a husk swept straight towards her. It had different colouring, the interior glowing a deep blue, not the pale green of all the others. It jerked to a halt in front of her. The curved, transparent front bloomed white, as if a gush of steam had burst over it, and with a whine it split down the middle and parted.

Warm air twisted white and wet towards her, and through it, curled on supportive pads, was a naked man. Shivers twitched across his body, the gleam of moisture slicking his skin and hair. From what she could understand of the gear, his real body would be experiencing the same reaction—this was his image, after all. And where was his body? There’d been nothing in the small room beneath the vent.

She wet her lips. She needed to get her brain working. So now her plan was to wake him up and find his physical body in the cold-world.

“Liam?” Vyn leaned forward and grabbed his arm.

He jerked under her touch and she loosened her grip. She had no gauge of her strength. She tilted her head, trying to catch the light so that she could see his face. He didn’t look any older. Which would be natural. His cold-world body, that could—and would—be a different matter.

“Liam, you need to wake up.”

“What…?”

His question came out more as a croak. He turned his head and his eyes narrowed. She saw hints of Paul in the line of his jaw, the shape of his eyes, and realised she was
looking
for them. The man was under her skin.

“You’re in mind-shock. I’m here to get you out.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed and recognition flashed across his face. “You.” It was a growl, filled with anger and hatred. His body uncurled, the force of his anger pushing him out of the husk. “You put me in here—”

“Liam!” Vyn cut through his fury. She couldn’t break the image of the simulacrum that covered her. She suspected that was the reason she was in the room at all, something about her skin and the technology of the simulacrum being the key. “It’s not what it appears. I’m Vynessa Somerton. Remember me? You were talking to your brother Paul about me?” Her deep male voice sounding so much like Goodman didn’t help to convince him, she was sure. “You mentioned something to him about me before you were taken. About my skin being an organic circuit.”

His gaze narrowed. “Vyn?”

She smiled and hoped it looked genuine. She waved her hands. “This is…not me.”

“Simulacrum?” He spoke the word with awe. “You worked out how to make one.” He squinted into the gloom surrounding them and ran a hand over his hair, pulling a face at the wet, sticky strands. “Of course you did, or you wouldn’t be here.”

He swung his legs over the edge and planted his feet on the floor. He gripped the husk, his hands bloodless and his breathing quick and shallow. Vyn gave him time and kept her eyes off his nakedness. His brother she’d very happily ogle. Him? No. She would feel a lot more…comfortable if he were dressed. She
could
give him something of hers.

Vyn unlooped the belt on her trousers and kicked off the hand-stitched shoes.

Liam lifted an eyebrow. “Something I should know?”

“You can have these.” She unfastened her trousers and stepped out, handing them to Liam. “I’d feel better.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about wearing the CEO’s
warm
trousers.”

Vyn grinned at him. “Don’t pass up the offer.” She rubbed her hands together, feeling chilled from her legs being exposed to the cold air. “All right. Now we get your portal.” She scanned the immediate area. “I haven’t moved. But your body isn’t where I am in the cold-world.”

Liam winced. “How long?” He slipped the belt through a leather loop and tightened it. He didn’t look up. “It feels like an hour, but the thoughts in my head are predictable, worn out.” He rubbed his hand over his chest, until his fingers stilled and curled into a tight fist. “Well?”

Vyn pressed her lips together, feeling the tension in her unfamiliar jaw. “Seven years.”

He closed his eyes and his hand shook. “But Paul knew to look for me?”

Liam needed answers, she understood that, but they needed to move. She had no idea how long she would remain undetected in the Box. She stroked her throat, trying to remember Goodman’s voice, the surety, the command. The place had enough power to call up a portal. She had to try. “Restore Liam Cross’s consciousness to his body. He’s released by my order.”

Vyn twitched a smile at him. “Paul has a plan to get us out. Be ready. We’ll find you.”

“Vyn—” Light wrapped around him, cold and speckled, and in a beat he was gone.

That seemed to have worked. “Return me.”

Vyn closed her eyes and hoped the computer released her to her own body and didn’t attempt to lay her consciousness over the CEO’s mind. Part one was complete. Now to try to stitch together the rest of her frankly scrappy plan. The portal tugged around her, dragging at her flesh, tearing along her scars. She bit down a cry and let it take her.

Chapter Nine

“It was a soft landing. Just.” Vyn groaned and pushed herself away from Paul’s back, wincing as her neck made a distinct crack. She’d forgotten the first rule of entering a portal: don’t do it standing up. She stroked her hand over the warm fleece of his jacket, and his breaths lifted her palm. She let out a relieved sigh. He was still alive. “I get Liam, then I’m coming back for you.” She willed a smile to curve her lips and bent to brush her lips over the shell of his ear. “You. Owe. Me.”

Vyn stood and stared around her. Where were the bodies of the vanished? She flexed her fingers. The Goodmans had built the technology into her flesh to manipulate their environment, she was learning that. She lifted her palm, her fingertips curling to trace over the deep bisecting scar running across her hand. She closed her eyes. “Bring Liam Cross to me.”

Her palm burned and low metal groans surrounded her, vibrating over the walls. Damn, it didn’t feel like science, it
felt
like magic. Which was stupid. There were no such things as demons. The Goodmans had tapped into a form of technology so advanced it was almost impossible to comprehend. Such organic technology was still a myth, a Fomorian fantasy, but the Goodmans had cracked it decades before and kept it for this single use, securing their virtual reality.

She frowned. And she had to wonder what had made her so
special.
Why her body had the honour of being fucked about with.

The groan deepened and there was a sharp crack. Vyn opened her eyes and found the wall before her laced with the exact pattern that covered her skin. She shivered. “No, not magic at all.”

Her fingertips, then palm, touched the warm metal, and golden light chased along the curls and twists, filling the wall. Sights like this happened in the tiers, where anything was possible. In the cold-world, it had her belly tight and unease firing through her.

Air steamed around her boots, and a seam formed in the metal. It parted and swung away from her. A single husk hung before her, open, with Liam curled inside, thinner, more worn, his body shaking. Her heart squeezed. “Stay there.” She winced. As if he could move, could run.

Vyn found Paul’s bag. He would have been ready for his brother being stripped and freezing. She grinned as she pulled out a thermal suit, jacket and boots. He was nothing if not prepared.