Xenofreak Nation (5 page)

It didn’t.

The Viscount dug his heels into the cement floor and stopped his backward progress, bent down and wrapped his meaty arms around Scott’s back. With a mighty heave, he lifted Scott’s feet off the ground. Scott let go of the Viscount’s middle and allowed himself to be turned upside down. The Viscount staggered towards the fire, but Scott wrapped his lower legs around the Viscount’s neck and clamped down. The Viscount’s scaled skin-grafts gave Scott an advantage—while Scott’s body was slick as an eel’s, the Viscount essentially had built-in grippers. When Scott suddenly relaxed his legs, his body weight caught the Viscount by surprise and he slipped right through his arms. Scott had been trained in how to fall; as soon as his shoulder contacted the cement, he rolled away and sprang to his feet. The Viscount swung and missed, swung again and clipped Scott’s chin.

“Slash him!” Someone screamed from the crowd. They wanted blood, but Scott wouldn’t use his claws. He’d fought a lot of guys with xenoalterations that gave them an edge in the cage, like horns, or whip-like tails, and in those cases his claws came out. The Viscount had no such advantage. Scott wouldn’t resort to cheating even if Lupus did lose money on this fight.

He continued to lure the Viscount around the ring, dodging his punches. The older man was getting visibly tired, but Scott could do this all day. Finally, the Viscount gave him his opening. Scott’s fist shot out, connecting solidly with the Viscount’s nose. Blood gushed and the crowd responded with a roar of approval. The Viscount stumbled forward and tried to grab him, but Scott danced around to his rear and kicked him behind the knee. The resulting loss of balance made it almost easy for Scott to shove him into the flame.

Scott stepped out of range as the chemical coating on the Viscount’s skin caught fire with a crackling whoosh, spreading over his entire body. The crowd screamed in delight. One high-pitched scream lasted longer than the rest, however, and Scott looked over to see Bryn with her hands over her face, hysterically shrieking. Clearly, no one had explained the rules to her.

The Viscount stood with his arms outstretched to the side as the flames died out into blue-tinged nothingness. He held his right hand out for the traditional finale, and Scott clasped it and allowed himself to be pulled into the flame as well.

Through his protective eye-wear, he saw Padme on the other side of the chain link fence laughing her ass off at Bryn. He almost chuckled, too, but had to hold his breath until the chemical and its harmless flames burned completely away. The crowd applauded and hooted. The ones who’d bet on him chanted his name, “Cou-gar! Cou-gar!”

He raised his arms and walked the victory walk through the crowd. No one patted him on the back or shook his hand. He and the Viscount went straight to the showers, a tiled area on the north wall that had originally been used by the chemical factory as emergency showers in case someone spilled whatever they’d been manufacturing on themselves. The water wasn’t heated, but it was free—well, technically, it was stolen from the city since the Warehouse wasn’t officially occupied.

Although the ‘grease’ itself and the flames it produced weren’t harmful, after you burned it, a caustic residue was created. Scott and the Viscount soaped up thoroughly, rinsed and repeated three times, amiably rehashing the fight.

It was times like these Scott almost enjoyed being a xenofreak.

Back in his tent, he put on the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, but left his hair loose. He automatically checked his holophone for messages, then lifted a secret flap near the bottom of the tent and checked his second holophone. The hidden one was a burn phone, the fourth one he’d had since living in the Warehouse. Each time he got a message, the phone went into the storm drain or the local pond or down the toilet at the corner gas station. He never called out on it.

He was not surprised to see a message today. All it said was, “Report,” which was a bit problematic for him since he was due back in Exam Room Three.

Chapter Nine

Bryn hardly noticed her surroundings when Abel took her back to the exam room. At first she’d been outraged that Padme hadn’t told her what to expect—that she’d laughed at Bryn’s abject horror when the Viscount caught fire. Bryn’s anger wasn’t misplaced; it was just…useless. She wondered at herself for having such a stupid reaction. Padme was a xenofreak. She’d cut off her own ears and replaced them with those of a dead cow. She seemed to be perfectly comfortable being owned by a man. It shouldn’t have surprised her in the slightest that Padme found her discomfort humorous.

Abel had asked Padme to accompany them, and when the three of them entered the exam room, he shut the door. Bryn went to stand as far away from him as possible on the other side of the exam table. She’d been looking forward to taking off Scott’s jacket, but as soon as she did, she saw the look in Abel’s eyes, and wished she’d kept it on.

He licked his lips and said conversationally, “You’re sweet, aren’t you?”

Drug-laced second-hand smoke may have clouded her thinking, but Bryn definitely didn’t like the way he was leering at her. “I don’t know about that, but I am hungry.”

She regretted the admission as soon as she made it. He would send Padme to get food and then she’d be alone with him.

Sure enough, he said, “Padme…” but Padme interrupted him.

“Remember what Lupus said.”

His horned head jerked around and he gave her a dark look, but then he muttered, “Right, right. I’ll just take myself out of the equation; have someone get you some chow.”

Bryn tried to be cool, tried to thank him, but she choked on the words. When he left, her knees nearly buckled. She couldn’t help it; she looked to Padme, who met her eyes blandly.

“You could do worse,” Padme said. “He’s high up in the organization. Powerful.”

Bryn shook her head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? That’s gross! He’s an old man. He’s—”

Padme shushed her with a loud, “Chht! These walls are thin and you don’t want to insult him. God, are you for real?”

“Am I for real? Am I for real? Yes, I’m real and you and all the rest of the freakshows here are one big nightmare!”

Padme laughed. “Feel free to pinch yourself all you want. It never worked for me.”

Bryn sagged against the exam table and then decided to climb back up on it. Leaning back against the wall made some of the dizziness subside, but she floated on a strange, narcotic cloud for some time. It was impossible to guess how many minutes had passed, but some time later, she asked, “What did you mean when you said pinching yourself never worked for you?”

Padme crossed her arms over her narrow chest. “Not every xenofreak is into self-mutilation.”

Bryn closed her eyes. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Not to a spoiled American brat like you.”

With great effort, Bryn opened her eyes to give Padme what she hoped would be a withering glare, but Padme had a hand to one of her ears and an almost vulnerable expression on her face.

“Tell me,” Bryn said.

Padme made a ‘tch’ sound and said in her accented English, “Yes, why not? I was the only child of wealthy parents. They were traditional, but wanted me to have a good education, so I was allowed to go to college abroad. They were killed in an automobile accident and my loving uncle tried to force me to honor an arranged marriage. It happens all the time in Pakistan. Instead of obeying, I attempted to run away with my lover, a student from India on scholarship. Such scandal! Such shame upon my family. Can you guess what happened?”

Padme’s words were heavily tinged with sarcasm. It was clear to Bryn that this was the older girl’s compact version of events.

“I have no idea.”

“Have you never said the words, ‘holy cow’?”

Bryn frowned. “What does that...oh.”

“Yes…oh. In India, among the Hindu people—my former lover’s people—cows are sacred. My uncle is nothing if not imaginative. I had already ruined myself, so there was nothing to be done but to exact his vengeance upon me. Like you, I was kidnapped. Then I was drugged and taken to the Bestia Butcher’s lair to have this done.” She gestured to one ear.

“That’s awful. But why did you stay?”

Padme’s smile was bleak. “Where else would I go? My uncle ensured that I will inherit nothing from my parent’s estate. I am not an American citizen. If I’m caught I will be deported to Pakistan. Xenofreaks are not tolerated there.”

Bryn hardly knew what to say. She’d completely misjudged Padme, who was a victim like herself.

Padme scoffed and said, “Look at you. Are we BFF’s now?”

The scorn stung, but Bryn understood it better. She was about to inform Padme that yes, under different circumstances they probably could have been friends, but someone banged on the door. Padme opened it and Scott entered. In one hand he clutched two fast food bags and in the other he balanced a drink holder with three sodas. Slung over his back was what looked like a rolled-up sleeping bag. Without greeting either Bryn or Padme, he set the meal at the end of the exam table and began rummaging inside one of the bags.

He handed Bryn a hamburger and some fries. She barely peeled the wrapper off the hamburger before shoving it into her mouth.

“I see you’re not a vegetarian,” Padme commented, accepting her own hamburger from Scott.

Through a mouth jammed with food, Bryn said, “Nope, I’m a card-carrying carnivore.”

“I hardly understand your logic in hating us,” Padme said. “How is raising an animal for food and clothing any different from what the xenos are doing? In the biolabs, they are raised in healthy environments, which is more than can be said about the average food production farm.”

“I never said I hated you.”

“Your father does, and you certainly looked supportive at the rally.”

Bryn didn’t bother denying Padme’s accusation. Her father did hate them, and Bryn had been there to support him. “Family is complicated. You should know that better than anyone.”

When Scott raised an inquisitive eyebrow, Padme said quickly to Bryn, “I can’t believe how fast you ate that.”

Bryn briefly considered licking the wrapper then looked at Scott suspiciously. “It wasn’t my last meal, was it?” And then, unaccountably, she began to giggle.

Scott leaned closer to Padme. “Did Nurse Nancy give her something?”

Padme shook her head. “I think she got a contact high out there.”

“Is that why I feel so funny?” Bryn asked. “Funny, funny, funny. That’s a funny word.”

“Lightweight,” Scott muttered.

“You know what’s really funny?” Bryn reached out and put a hand on Scott’s arm. “That I got kidnapped today. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious.” He shrugged her hand away. “Eat your fries.”

Bryn’s merriment disappeared as fast as it had arisen. She finished her meal in silence, enjoying the salty goodness of the French fries, even though they were cold and there weren’t enough squishy ones.

When Padme swallowed her last bite, Bryn watched her gather up the wrappers and napkin. She shoved it all into one of the bags and said to Scott, “Have fun.” Bryn didn’t expect her to say goodbye, and she didn’t.

When the door closed behind her, Scott began unrolling his sleeping bag in front of it.

“What time is it?”

“Around four.”

“Are you going to sleep?”

“I’m going to sit. Unless you want me up there on the exam table with you.”

Unbidden, the memory of Scott’s lean, muscular body popped into her head. “Of course not,” she murmured and then remembered his tattoo. “Were you in the Marines?”

“For about ten seconds.”

“Why’d you—”

“How about you stop asking questions? There’s magazines here if you need to do something.” He opened one of the drawers under the exam table, selected one for himself and sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag. When Bryn flipped through the stack in the drawer, she found only back issues of Xeno Design Quarterly.

She didn’t know how much longer they planned to keep her here, but every time her mind went idle, she started to freak out, so she pulled a few magazines from the stack and settled down to read them. An hour later, she looked up from a mind-numbingly boring scientific article explaining nanoneuron technology and asked, “What’s ‘grease’ made of?”

Scott shut his magazine. “I don’t know.”

Oh, that’s right, she thought, he doesn’t know anything.

He surprised her by elaborating. “One of our bioengineers discovered it, though. The flames barely even get warm, but they burn out real fast. I guess he wanted to market it, but no one could find a use for it.”

“Oh.”

Instead of ignoring her further and going back to his magazine, he said, “Um, so what did you mean when you said Padme should know more than anyone that family is complicated?”

Bryn narrowed her eyes at him. “Why should I tell you? She obviously didn’t.”

Chapter Ten

Scott already knew the gist of what had happened to Padme, although she’d never told him herself. He’d been attempting from the get-go to win her over, but she didn’t trust anyone, least of all men, and from what he heard, she had good reason. But she was the key to getting in deeper with Lupus, a task that thus far, Scott had failed to accomplish. Sure, Abel trusted him as far as that sick psycho trusted just about anyone, but at this rate, Scott was years away from reaching the inner circle.