Better. This time Shalimar awoke quickly, no dallying in an early morning doze. She awoke feral style; one moment asleep, the next thoroughly awake and aware of her surroundings.
Those surroundings included a soft bed, a night stand with water on it and a couple of small white pills in a dish—pain-killers, ugh!—and a robe for a guest to use. Shalimar slipped into it, noting the dressing at her waist. She felt beneath it, knowing her body the way only a feral could. Good. Another day, and the clean incision would be all but healed. The advantage to being a feral: rapid healing.
Didn't mean that it didn't still hurt. But Shalimar wasn't about to take advantage of those little white pills. She'd take the discomfort any day to avoid that feeling of being off-kilter, of being not entirely in control of herself.
Besides, Shalimar had a mission. She had a date with a certain mad scientist named Arrigo, in his lair, about a certain 'little brother'. Narcotic pain-killers would interfere with her pleasure at ripping Arrigo's arms off.
"Lexa?" she called, belting the robe into place. I need clothes, I need a map, and I need transportation to Arrigo's.
One out of three would have to do. Lexa had clothes, scrounged from their host's supply in a back room. Shalimar quickly changed into something more worthy of a feral on a mission. "Where's Brennan?"
"Haven't seen him all morning," Lexa lied. Not gonna tell you that I saw him at breakfast, mooning over our host's daughter. That hurt can come later. I've had enough today to last me a lifetime and it's not even ten o'clock yet..
"Map?"
"Working on it." Yeah. Working on not getting us tossed out of here as I ask. Need a base to work from, need supplies, Shal. Need allies, who are in short supply right now, including some of our own.
"Work harder," Shalimar grunted, tugging her belt tight against the bandage at her waist. "Let's go. We'll get Brennan and some schematics of Arrigo's place, and go pay our respects to a certain mad scientist."
Lexa trailed after the feral, uncertain what to do. What would happen when Shalimar found out about Brennan and Amanda Windom? A melt-down was in the offing, and Lexa felt powerless to stop it. Ever been on a runaway train, Lexa, dear? No? Things were moving toward an unhealthy conclusion.
Well, shit. If there was nothing she could do, then let it happen. Brennan had brought this on himself, let him deal with it. Lexa had more important things to consider and if the scene that was about to occur made it happen any faster then it was a good thing. It was going to happen, so get it over with and move on. How fast would the feral be ready to move out after Jesse once she caught Brennan in the act? Lexa honestly didn't know. The bond between Shalimar and her one-time lover had been pretty tight. Still was, on Shalimar's end.
Mutant X was falling apart, and badly. Jesse dead, Brennan besotted with a rich man's daughter. That left her and Shalimar, and Lexa wasn't certain about herself. There's always Raoul on the Riviera, she mused, the one who was heir to the family fortune. He would keep her in luxury for the rest of her days if she gave him the slightest hint of being interested.
One problem: Lexa hated the thought of being a 'kept woman'. Going to luncheon with all those twits whose biggest problem was that the ribbon on their skirt didn't match their expensive leather shoes. Pretending that being seen at Wimbledon in a new designer hat and manicured nails was the highlight of the sporting season. And then Raoul'd want children, to carry on the family name. Preferably a boy; do arrange it, Lexa, and don't stop squirting out the little brats until you get it right.
For someone who'd taken the Dominion to war, it seemed pretty lame.
All right; decision time. Mutant X was dead, that was obvious. Without puppy-eyed Jesse to hold them together, they were simply a collection of misfits who were better off making their own separate ways. They would each light somewhere, get on people's nerves for a while, then flit off to annoy someone else somewhere else. That was the way of freaks.
But she owed it to Jesse to find out what had become of his body. No, you don't. You don't owe anyone anything, least of all someone who tried to get beneath your prickly exterior. Stupid mutant, trying to get her to care about him. And that kiss! It really didn't mean anything, as they'd both agreed.
But Lexa paid her debts. Jesse had saved her life more than once. She could do this one altruistic work, and then leave Mutant X behind. A bad memory. A tale to tell someone else's grandkids, because she sure wasn't going through the steps in between needed to acquire any.
"Brennan?"
Let the fireworks begin.
It was the Great Room again, the one with the heavy velvet drapes to keep light and vision out, with the grand piano in the corner and the three heavy upholstered sofas dotting the oriental carpet and the fireplace that never seemed to be lit. It was the room with Treo lounging at one end, creating small ice sculptures by hand—literally by hand—and Ben curled up on one of the sofas near the end table with the vase with freshly cut red roses with a book in one hand and trying to take notes with the other hand still in its sling. That mid-term exam was getting closer.
But it was the couple on the sofa in front of the cold fireplace that had caught Shalimar's attention. Not that the fireplace needed a fire in it; the pair were generating plenty of heat sending smoldering looks back and forth at each other. Brennan caressed Amanda's shoulder. Amanda rested an oh-so-delicate hand on his knee and turned a freshly scrubbed face up to his.
Lexa thought she would barf.
"Brennan?" It wasn't anger. It was bewilderment. It was hurt. It was sadness. It was the blackest of despair.
And, worst of all, Shalimar didn't even try to rip his head off. Just a little voice, asking, Brennan, what are you doing? Why did you play with my heart?
Didn't you say you loved me?
"Don't go getting yourself killed," Lexa hissed at Shalimar.
The look that Shalimar handed back was dead. Shalimar Fox, feral, was full of life. The girl beside Lexa was a mere haunted shell of a person. Already dead, Lexa feared. How else should Shalimar feel? Her 'little brother' cold on a slab somewhere inside. The supposed love of her life spooning after someone else. Yeah, this was going to be a very tricky mission to pull off and get out alive. Did Shalimar even want to come back alive?
And it didn't help that there were just the two of them. Brennan was entirely too interested in Amanda Windom to hold up his end, and as for the Ben and Treo? They'd seen Jesse go down. They didn't need convincing that the molecular was dead; Lexa didn't bother asking them to go and help with this mission to Arrigo's. It was just a couple of particularly stupid ferals and chromatics that refused to believe, who had to know what happened. You're getting soft, Lexa. You're letting your emotions get in your way. It's going to kill you, very very soon.
So what? If this mission didn't kill her, the Dominion would. One end would be just as good as another.
All of which meant that Lexa found herself just outside the heavy gate that surrounded the Arrigo facility. Lexa used binoculars to scan the security guards that held the front entrance closed. Just men, and not much else. Lots of firepower but no infrared, nothing that would automatically spot a chromatic gone lightless. Some music to wait with, if you please?...
Their chance came with a delivery truck. While the driver handed over the lading bill, Lexa grabbed Shalimar's hand, sent the photons fleeing, and jumped onto the outside footrests on the back of the truck feeling grimly pleased with herself. Not only had she gotten them in, but a lift to the main building as well.
The loading dock made an ideal entry point: lots of hot and sweaty bodies hoisting heavy crates. The movement and heat would confuse any sensors that Arrigo had installed to prevent just such a foray as the distaff half of Mutant X had planned. Getting inside was child's play for the chromatic, tugging Shalimar along by the invisible hand.
Now the hard work would begin: finding Jesse. Or what's left of him—Lexa firmly put that thought aside. Shalimar put her nose to the air, delicately testing the odors, searching for a familiar scent. Lexa could tell by the droop of her shoulders that there was little to nothing to go on.
They had two choices: open every door and peek in or…
"Option number two," Lexa said grimly. "Let's find Arrigo."
Shalimar set her shoulders. "We'll have to, anyway. I have a murder to avenge."
Finding Arrigo was a great deal easier. The two mutants followed the golden rule of business everywhere: when looking for the top man, head for the top floor. The penthouse view. Upstairs.
Which was where Arrigo lived. Shalimar got a strong whiff of the man—"Does he bathe in cologne?" she grumbled—even though the genetic scientist was not lounging in his pajamas. Arrigo kept a suite of rooms for his personal use, money lavishly spent in a fashion that had Lexa turning up her nose as gauche. Money, yes; ostentatious, no. Didn't the scientist want to spend his money on normal scientific finery, like a new chromatogramoscopic doohickey? Where was his pride in his science? At least put in a high end computer!
But no, Dr. Arrigo believed in separating his work from his pleasure. From what Ben had said, Arrigo had imprisoned Amanda Windom on this floor. It had been a comfortable prison, but a prison nonetheless. And, since Arrigo really was a genetic researcher of no small abilities according to Dr. Sutter, the prison was likely close to the research labs. A man with tastes like these wouldn't want to go far for his subjects. Although forcing his attentions on a sixteen year old didn't seem consistent with prison and research.
Didn't matter. They had a mission: find Arrigo and force the truth from him. Extract vengeance for Jesse.
Luck was with them. They found Arrigo alone in his office, guided there by Shalimar's unerring sense of smell and an overwhelming stench of Eau de Overkill.
Dr. Hector Arrigo was a small man, dapper with a heavily waxed mustache that both mutants were devoutly grateful not to be expected to kiss. Being charmed by the victim was not on their agenda, although Arrigo tried his best to put it there. A painful armlock by Shalimar helped the doctor re-order his priorities.
"Wh—what do you want?"
"Where is he?" Shalimar's hiss could sound very deadly when whispered into an ear from less than an inch away.
"Wh—who?"
"Do you always stutter like this?" Lexa asked casually, picking up an ornate gold-chased letter opener from the mahogany desk. Blunt, but with the light glinting off the metallic surface it looked awesomely sharp. "I'd start stuttering out the answers we want to hear, if I were you."
"Who are you?" Arrigo swallowed hard, pomaded sweat beading on his brow.
"There was a girl here yesterday," Lexa said, masking her impatience. "Remember? About sixteen? Not in the mood to be raped by an older scientist with a slick mustache?" She picked at one manicured fingernail with the letter opener.
"I didn't rape her—"
"No, but not through any fault of your own. Interruptions by an older brother and his two friends are a wonderful thing. What would have happened if they hadn't come along, slime?"
"You don't understand—"
"Don't bother justifying your actions. I've heard it too many times before. 'She asked for it.' 'She really wanted it.' 'She just needs a strong man to make her happy.'" Lexa placed the tip of the letter opener under Arrigo's chin, annoyed at finding herself getting angry. What happened to the cool professional that you used to be? Get your act back together, woman! "Aren't you lucky that that is not why we're here?"
"Wh-why are you here? My research is about psionics—"
"Now, isn't that too bad? I'm not a psionic." Lexa looked over at Shalimar who still had Arrigo in a painful half-Nelson. "Are you, Shalimar?"
Shalimar shoved a little harder, forcing a grunt out of her captive. "Nope. Not even interested in them right now."
"Hm. What are you interested in, Shalimar?" Toying.
"A molecular, Lexa." Another twist, another groan laced with fear. "One particular molecular."
Arrigo was on his toes, trying to keep his arm from dislocating. "Please, let me go. I haven't touched Windom's son. I don't work with molecular's."
Lexa put her face two inches from Arrigo, then thought better of it when his cologne threatened to make her eyes tear. She pulled back. "What makes you think that it's young master Windom? He's safe at home with Daddy."
"I don't know any other moleculars!" Arrigo wailed. "Please, please, you have to believe me! I don't have anything to do with moleculars! They're out of my realm of expertise!"
"What about the one that you shot yesterday?" Shalimar hissed into his ear. "The man you killed. Your guards shot him. Where is he?"
"I don't know what—ow!"
"Lying will only get you killed," Lexa observed calmly. "Shalimar there behind you is a feral, which, as you well know, means that she's only a hair's breath away from ripping off that mustache and taking your face with it. I'd tell us what we want to know, doctor."
"But I don't know!" Arrigo wailed. "My guards didn't kill anyone yesterday! We searched the grounds! They all got away safely with Windom's daughter! They didn't kill anyone!"
"I could put a slice in your jugular that would take, oh, maybe minutes for you to bleed to death," Lexa started to say when Shalimar interrupted.
"He's telling the truth, Lexa."
Lexa looked sharply at her teammate.
"I smell fear, and I smell a few other things"—disgusting lust, she didn't verbalize—"but no lying. There were no dead bodies here yesterday."
"I told you that," Arrigo whimpered.
"Shut up." Arm twist. Yelp. "Take us to where they escaped. The exact spot," Shalimar warned the scientist. "I'll know if you're lying."
"Yes! Yes! The exact spot!"
"And warn your people to back off," Lexa added sardonically. "I'm certain that you'd rather that no one get hurt. Least of all, your own people. Not to mention yourself."
"Yes! Yes! They'll keep away! Anything!" Arrigo babbled.
It took a while to find. Arrigo himself had been above the fray—he had hirelings to do the dirty fighting for him and getting his money's worth from them was part of the deal—and the geneticist had to ask those hirelings to point out where the quartet had emerged from the building. The hirelings weren't certain; Jesse had apparently let the quartet out through the brick wall just to confuse the issue but Shalimar was finally able to locate the spot. Twenty-four hours hadn't completely washed away the scent, but it was a close thing.
The feral transferred control of their hostage to Lexa, sniffing around the site, hunting feral fashion. Lexa could barely contain her impatience, holding the blunt letter opener to Arrigo's throat in a false threat. The letter-opener wouldn't do more than leave a bruise, but Arrigo didn't know that. If it really came down to it, Lexa knew, her finger with a laser slash would be much more potent. Finger loaded, and not afraid to use it.
Shalimar stepped carefully over the area, first sniffing at it thoroughly before laying down her own scent. Step by step, inch by inch, she covered the area. Lexa covered her impatience.
Finally the feral was done.
"Well?"
"He was here," Shalimar said carefully and deliberately, "but there were no shots fired here. Not at this spot. No blood scent."
"Further on?"
"I'll follow the trail. But Jesse was not killed outside the building."
"That's what I told you!" Arrigo put in.
"Shut up," Lexa said irritably. "What happened?"
"They came out," Shalimar said, eyes still slitted and yellow, "and they looked around for a moment. All four were here: Jesse, Ben, Treo, and Mandi. They ran into the woods right about there." She pointed.
"Follow the trail," Lexa ordered. "Arrigo, your people better stay away."
"Yes! Yes! Away! They'll stay away!"
The man was getting on her nerves, Lexa decided. They'd have to ditch him as quickly as possible. Slime. "Shut up. I should slice you just on general principles. Going after a sixteen year old girl. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I didn't—"
"They saw you," Lexa snarled. "They saw you pawing at her. I saw her clothes half-ripped off. You're lucky it wasn't me there in that room watching you force yourself on her. You wouldn't still be alive, slime."
"She's an empath!" Arrigo finally broke in. "She's an empath!"
"So?"
Arrigo looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "She's an empath," he repeated.
"I heard you the first time. What's that's got to do with anything?"
Arrigo blinked. "She projects emotion. Just like her father. They're both mono-emoters. They can only project one emotion."
"Keep going." The man still wasn't making any sense. That was the trouble with genius types, Lexa decided. They never realized that not everyone knew everything that they did. Brilliant idiots, everyone of them.
Dr. Hector Arrigo tried to explain very carefully, as if to a four year old. "Amanda Windom projects attraction. It's not pheromones, it's a psionic attraction to the opposite sex. She turns it on: men fall at her feet. And, as an adolescent, she has poor control over it. She did it to me. I was helpless in the throes of emotion."
It fell into place, every last stinking bit of it. Lexa went cold. "Are you saying that you didn't kidnap her?"
"Well, not exactly—"
"How, exactly?"
"Well, yes, I needed to experiment on her—"
"So you did kidnap her."
"I invited her to help me." Arrigo's indignation was ludicrous to behold. "She came to dinner to hear my proposal. I am studying psionics, and her father moleculars. I needed her help, and I was prepared to offer her a position in my company. Her talents were being wasted in Windom's household. Her father had no use for her."
"But—?" Shalimar prodded.
"It…becomes a little fuzzy," Arrigo admitted. His ears flushed, followed by the rest of his face. He was what, fifty or so? Just right for a mid-life crisis. And if he were right, that Amanda Windom was a projective psionic? Lexa ground her teeth. It would certainly explain Brennan's behavior as well as Arrigo's. Arrigo gulped. "My theory is that she projects it more forcefully when she feels threatened. It would be a survival trait, developed over millenia. The female psionically persuades all the men in the area to defend her. Ms. Windom became alarmed at something, and automatically began projecting. I was helpless against her mutant powers."
Lexa pounced on his wording. "She became alarmed at something? And what, pray tell, would that something have been?"
If Arrigo could have sunk through the ground like a molecular, he would have. Instead, all he could do was cast his eyes downward and mumble.
"What was that, Dr. Arrigo?"
"I said—" Arrigo coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again. "I said, I told her she had to stay with me. She was so beautiful!" he wailed.
And only sixteen years old. Damn mid-life crises. Why couldn't the man just go out and buy a hot car, like everyone else with an over-age Y chromosome? He certainly had enough cash.