Chapter 11
As corrosive venom dissolved her body from the inside, the pain outstripped every bad thing Bo had felt before. Maybe it was so bad, she thought, because it was every bad thing all at once: fire and freezing and a million piercing stabs, coupled with terrible dread that there would be no recovery this time - no miraculous Fae healing, no stitches and medicine, no soup and ginger ale recovery in a soft bed.
Her life was ticking down to the last few minutes, which she would evidently spend writhing on the painted cement floor of a nightclub bathroom with downtempo music playing her offstage. To sum up, she was royally fucked.
At least she'd die underneath a beautiful woman, Bo perversely mused, and while this young woman was no lover, she cared more fiercely than any friend Bo had ever known. She looked up at Kenzi and tried to smile, tried to let her know that it was okay. Even though this was a messy, brutal, totally fucking painful way to check out, it actually could be worse. Bo had always assumed she would die alone.
"You're okay. You're doing fine," Kenzi lied. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and damp; she'd only just stopped crying. She pressed her shin down hard above Bo's leg wound, trying to slow the loss of femoral blood. "Lauren said this would work, and she's never wrong, right? You just… just stay."
Bo wanted to keep a brave face, but the snakebite toxin was a relentless acid burn, raking her insides like rusty razors. She slammed her fists against the floor and bit back a sickening scream. Blood stormed in her ears. Bo imagined this was like diving into a vat of molten metal, burning and drowning at once, unable to sense anything but pain until the merciful end.
Kenzi grabbed her by the jacket front and shook her, shouted frantic, muffled nonsense… and then it was all gone.
Everything became nothing. Time was a joke. Bo turned circles in a dark and spiraling void, and would forever. She barely understood this before the spiral spit her out and she woke inside her dizzy, gasping flesh with life rushing down her throat. Like pressing water on the mad desert wanderer or forcing breath into the drowned, someone was kissing her mouth with artless urgency.
Operating on pure survival instinct, the succubus began to feed, heedless of the source. Rising up blindly, she pulled hard at the well of energy, grasping and biting and kissing until she felt relief, a slight and wondrous easing of her pain, and then – all too soon – the vital chi flow became a noxious, choking stream of smoke.
She stopped feeding and shrank away, violently coughing. When she opened her eyes, Bo found Kenzi slumped against the bathroom door, staring at her. Her lips were red, mauled and swollen, and the protective Koushang pendant dangled from her hand.
Bo's lingering primal instinct told her to move, to take the amulet and attack. She could drain Kenzi, and then overpower another human outside, and then perhaps just one more to be whole again... and maybe a fourth to top off the tank. She could strut away from this dive not merely alive, but powerful. She could hunt that snake Fae tonight and skin him for boot leather, make jewelry of his teeth and sell that shit on Etsy. She could do anything.
Three humans, four at most. Candy from babes. They'll die smiling, coming in their pants, and you will feel So. Fucking. Good.
This counsel sounded familiar (like Aoife's mad, persuasive purr) and Bo felt shame knowing these thoughts sprang from her own frightened mind. Guilt and anger suffused her voice as she spoke to Kenzi. "Stupid… I could have killed you."
"I'm a gambler," Kenzi said. She displayed the very effective ancient trinket and shrugged. "I picked your pocket and rolled the dice."
Unwilling to argue further, Bo laid back and stared at the ceiling. Her inner thigh wound still bled, albeit more slowly, and her bitten arm still throbbed. Inside, the venomous pain had diffused to a thready burn, but she could already feel it regrouping. Kenzi's selfless gambit bought her a few more lucid moments, and Bo didn't want to waste them.
"You are a mean, stubborn, klepto crackpot," she told her best friend. "And I love you."
"Don't," Kenzi said, shaking her head and sniffling. "Just save your strength and shut up."
"Can't make me," Bo said.
"Can so."
"Liar. You shot your wad molesting me back to life."
"Hey, the molesting was all you, suckmonster." Kenzi gingerly rubbed her jaw. "Your bionic tongue loosened my molars."
Bo chuckled; she hadn't heard that one before. "You're welcome."
"You're welcome," Kenzi parroted. "Let's not make this a habit, okay? Kissing you feels mega wrong – and not because you're a chick. It's weirder than that."
"I know," Bo agreed. "We're not even the same species or whatever, but you're my blood. It's weird because we're family."
Kenzi rolled her eyes and looked away. "If you're steering this toward goodbye, I'm not having it."
"Too bad, 'cause I need to say this," Bo began solemnly. "I spent ten years alone and confused, feeling like the world's biggest freak. Wasn't until a few months ago that my life finally started making sense. I learned what I really am, met my lunatic mom, got brave enough to let people in. I stopped feeling so lost all the time. All this happened after I met you."
"Yeah, and look at you now," Kenzi said. She swiped a wet track from her cheek. "I'm a jinx, always have been."
"Well, you've been my good luck charm."
"You're delusional. And I'm getting nauseous."
Bo gritted her teeth, struggling to project sincerity. "But you're the sunshine on my flower; you've helped me grow. I need you to know -"
"Bo, I swear to Gaga, I'm going to kick you."
"Kenzi… you're the wind beneath my wings."
About then, she realized that Bo was screwing with her, quoting saccharine Hallmark cards and easy listening classics to make this easier. The gesture was silly and lovely and it murdered her composure. Kenzi cursed under her breath and Bo sniggered and Kenzi laughed until she sobbed - a precursor to a seriously ugly, shoulder-shaking cry. She leaned back against the door just as it shoved forward, bumping the steel trashcan and giving her skull a tough knock.
"God! It's still ocupado!" she yelled.
"Kenzi? It's me," Lauren called from beyond the barricaded door.
XXxxXX
Sharon stepped into the lab hallway and pulled the curtains closed on the Ash's patient bay. When she turned, she found Serena standing behind her. The Balam yelped in surprise and her claws involuntarily unsheathed.
Serena took a step back and raised a hand to calm her. "Sorry, had to come in quiet."
The nurse eased her claws away, but her yellow eyes narrowed. "Mission accomplished. What's up?"
Serena didn't respond. She looked around the empty lab and listened keenly, hearing only the beeps and whirrs of the Ash's monitors and ventilator. "Where is Dr. Lewis?"
After a moment's hesitation, Sharon told her the truth. Serena was Light security head, after all; fibbing to her would have consequences. "She got a call about twenty minutes ago. A friend was in trouble, needed help. She bolted."
"Probably Detective Hale," Serena said, sounding nonchalant. "We've… lost touch with him."
"Wasn't Hale. The succubus with the silly name. She was hurt. It sounded pretty bad." Sharon cocked her head and blinked. "Why do you need the doctor?"
Serena paused, appraising the curious nurse, and then sighed as if delivering dreadful news. "We have conclusive evidence that Dr. Lewis colluded with Dark agents to steal vast sums of money from the Light Fae. The High Council has ordered me to arrest her so that she might answer for these crimes."
Sharon gaped for a few seconds, and then she just laughed. "You cannot be serious!" she said, once she got her breath back. "She's the most allegiant human I've ever met, and the Ash trusts her. What you're saying makes no sense."
"Even the Ash can make mistakes," Serena snapped, clearly put-out by this underling's dissent. "Case in point: he trusted me."
She snapped her fingers and three Light agents entered the hall. One produced a pistol and fired a tranq dart into Sharon's back. The Balam jerked forward and fell to the floor, mewling angrily until she lost consciousness.
"Apply four-point restraints and lock her down with the rest," Serena instructed one agent, then pointed to another. "You stake out that shanty where the succubus lives. If Lewis is there with her, call me. And keep sending out feelers for Hale. He's gotta come up for air sometime."
The second agent nodded, rushed away, and Serena looked to the third. "You stay put. Our medical transport team is coming tonight for the Ash. If Lewis shows, bring her to the villa – now listen carefully - unharmed."
The muscled giant dipped his head to show assent, and then posed a question. "What if the succubus interferes?"
Serena sighed and cocked a brow. "You have a live weapon?"
He patted the .357 holstered beneath his suit jacket. "Yup."
"Then keep your distance and shoot her until your gun clicks," Serena said. "That bitch is not a reclamation project; she's trouble we don't need."
XXxxXX
Though she was well-ready for her pain to end – whether through death or deus ex machina – Bo felt a heady jolt of hope upon hearing Lauren's voice. Kenzi seemed to feel it, too, for she flung the door wide, pointed at bloody, broken Bo and demanded that the physician effect repairs immediately.
"Fix her and I'll be your best friend forever," Kenzi vowed.
"I don't respond well to threats," Lauren carelessly retorted, causing Bo to smile. The doctor shrugged off a black military-style MOLLE backpack, looked over her patient, and swallowed hard. "So… you're a complete mess."
"Yeah," Bo said softly. "Fae snakebites hurt like a bastard."
Lauren donned gloves and examined the wounds, gently palpating upper arm and inner thigh while Bo grimaced and held her breath. "One to ten, how's the pain?"
Bo couldn't respond rationally. She whimpered, and that was answer enough. Lauren unzipped her trauma bag and went to work, first injecting Bo with vivid red dope that hazed over the hurt, then tightly wrapping both wounds with pressure bandages, and finally cleaning away gore with sterile damps until Bo looked somewhat presentable.
Kenzi snagged several of the damps and tidied up as well. Once everyone was ready to face the public again, Lauren tucked all the bloody refuse into a red plastic zip bag and stowed it in the backpack. She produced a set of keys and passed them and her bag to Kenzi.
"My car is in the west alley down the block," she said. "Pull around front and keep it running."
Kenzi shouldered the MOLLE pack and fondled the silver key ring, which bore a Jaguar XJ logo. Her eyes sparkled as she waggled the keys at Bo. Lauren apparently had good taste in women and cars, and she damn well showed up when you screamed for help. Three more check marks in Kenzi's finicky good books.
"Yo, doc," she called, and tossed Lauren the Koushang amulet. "Caveat emptor."
On the doctor's bemused look, Kenzi winked at her and slipped away. Lauren zipped the necklace into a breast pocket and crouched over Bo. "Can you get up?"
"For you, always." Bo gave her a druggy, lazy leer. "That red shit is the bomb."
"It's a nuclear-option opiate, but it doesn't last. We better move." Lauren slid an arm beneath Bo's back and helped her sit up, then pulled her to a wobbly, quasi-upright position. Bo draped her right arm across Lauren's shoulders and they carefully edged through the bathroom door and hobbled down the sticker-strewn hall of no fame.
"Thank you. For coming," Bo said.
Lauren tightened her arms around Bo's waist. "For you, always," she said.
If Bo had been less distracted, the double entendre would not have gone unremarked, but she was onto something else. While gripping Lauren's soft cotton track jacket, she noticed the doctor had traded lab coat and heels for yoga pants and flat trainers. While sober, Bo found the sporty look very fetching; on drugs, it was the sexiest thing ever.
"You always look so hot in dumb-people clothes," she said.
Lauren smiled over her choice of words. "Not hot, just sweaty."
The succubus weaved closer and leaned into the crook of Lauren's neck. Her warm nape held salty-sweet traces of earlier exertions, and Bo greedily drank in the scent. Floating in a moment of amnesia, she almost forgot that she was near death. She felt fuzzy and loopy and safe…and hungry. "Some humans smell like wet dogs when they sweat," she announced.
"Oh." Lauren flinched a little, readjusted her arms. "Sorry."
"Not you," Bo clarified, and inhaled deeply again. "You smell like breakfast."
Lauren missed a step and stumbled back against the graffiti wall. Bo fell against her, pinning her with dead weight and black eyes that pulled like vortices above a sinking ship.
"Before Kenzi dragged me back, I think I died for a little while," Bo whispered. "There wasn't any tunnel or light. I just went round and round in the dark."
Lauren's chin trembled but her gaze kept steady; she looked determined, ready to try anything. Her lips parted as the succubus edged closer, baring her teeth…
"Please don't kiss me," Bo whispered, stopping short.
Lauren shook her head, stroked Bo's cheek. "Just take a little. You need it."
"I need too much," Bo reasoned, while marveling at the vivid desire radiating from Lauren. "You would give too much. We wouldn't stop."
The awful truth was this: to live, the succubus must feed, and to feed when mortally injured, she needed a few strong Fae or several expendable humans. Strong Fae were thin on the ground tonight, and the only humans nearby were innocent strangers, one dear friend, and one woman who routinely crazed her loins and muddied her brain.
Bo hid her face below Lauren's ear, breathing dreams, craving sex and love and family and all the messy horrors of life so intensely that she could taste chi sweating through the skin of Lauren's neck… only, that was impossible. Feeding didn't work like that.
Siphoning chi is an art, little girl. It works however you work it, her latent instinct purred.
Lauren obviously felt the osmotic feed and liked it, even if she didn't recognize the sensation. She shuddered, clenched fistfuls of Bo's hair. With her body, Lauren was unconsciously urging her to take more - grinding her hips, seeking skin with her fingertips, baring her throat to a monster that would destroy her to save itself.
Bo squirmed in her arms, extended her tongue to lick Lauren's throat, and pulled back just shy of contact. She dropped her head against Lauren's shoulder. "Fuck. I can't tell if you're trying to save me or kill us both."
Lauren groaned and banged her head back against the wall. She kissed Bo anyway, chastely, on the temple. "You need to feed to live. I don't know how else to help you," she admitted. "The toxin is -"
"Not in the database," Bo finished. "Doesn't matter. This stuff is kicking my ass so fast, I'd croak before we got back to the lab."
"So what do we do?" Lauren asked. Her eyes shone with tears.
"Get a room," a third party suggested.
Bo and Lauren looked down the hall and saw a couple – a lanky mohawked guy in a Ramones tee, and a cross-looking hipster chick standing with arms akimbo. Bo just rolled her eyes and told the girl to grow up. Lauren fisted her hands in the back of Bo's leather jacket.
"Some people still use the bathroom for peeing," the girl said, adjusting her fake glasses and stomping past to take care of business.
The guy, however, lingered, enjoying the sights. "Cosplay?" he guessed, waving at Bo's bloody bandages and visible weaponry. "What's your world?"
Lauren was lost, but Bo grinned as her familiarity with Kenzi's gaming obsession finally came useful. "Development Deal with The Devil," she said. "I'm a stuntwoman and she's my personal trainer; Hollywood love in the time of zombies."
"Hotness," he said, smiling. He pointed toward the bathroom and the hairpinned grouch peeing therein. "She's not my girlfriend. I am not with her."
Bo nodded, looked him over, and noticeably perked up. Whether due to the death bump or the good drugs or feeling almost certain that she had pulled chi from Lauren through simple contact, somehow Bo hatched a brilliant, preposterous idea.
"How long before the red magic wears off and I start praying for death again?" she asked her doctor/trainer.
Lauren regarded her warily. "Ten minutes, maybe less. Why?" She looked toward the robustly healthy young man – judged so by his lean muscle mass, clear eyes, and partial erection – and was troubled to realize she was sizing him up like a spring lamb. Less surprisingly, Bo appeared to be doing the same thing. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I need to be surrounded by people, lots of people who will dance very close to me and share positive energy until I feel better," Bo said pointedly. "Savvy?"
The doctor blanched and squeezed Bo's waist. "How would that even work?"
"Damned if I know. You should probably supervise."
"Like a medical experiment."
"Only with more krumping. I envision a performance art project built on loud music, group foreplay, and nobody dying," Bo explained.
Lauren blinked rapidly, processing the sketchy concept. "That's a tall order."
Bo shrugged. "Yeah, well. Mother advised me to be ambitious."
Even if she had doubts or concerns, Lauren seemed relieved that Bo wanted to go down swinging, as it were. "Fine. Tell me what to do."
Bo turned and winked at Mohawk Ramone, pointing him toward the dance floor. "See you out there?"
"Fuck yeah," he said, and eased away into the shadows.
The succubus then took the Koushang from Lauren's breast pocket and draped the chain around the woman's neck. She touched a fingertip to Lauren's lips, gently coaxed open her mouth, and laid the chi-binding amulet on her tongue. "I read that charms get stronger if you put them in your mouth," she said, "which is true of so many things."
Lauren rolled her eyes, but played along. Bo stroked her chin and Lauren closed her mouth. Bo gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"You're my cooler," Bo said, "Whatever happens out there, you don't kiss me unless I really lose my shit. Then you bring the kryptonite."
Lauren clenched the Koushang in her teeth, drew a deep breath, and nodded. Bo leaned into her and they slowly made their way onto the Gatekeeper floor.
Strobe lights flashed green and blue over a crowd dozens deep. Dancers packed close and moved to a slow trance groove, swaying like a copse of willows in a breeze.
In their midst, a hurricane readied for landfall.
TBC
