"Heisenberg. We have a situation."
"You don't say." Karl kept his tone boisterous and sarcastic, hiding his relief.
"Come now, I think we're well past the banalities." She exhaled heavily. She must have been smoking.
"I got a few tons of Lycan guts the haulers are scraping off the floor of the generator room, so yeah, I think we can skip to the good part."
"Lycan's? That's...interesting."
He wasn't holding anything back. "The bitch cleared out the stronghold." What did he care? Lines were drawn, and while Alcina may be a hateful, selfish, insufferable monster – she wasn't stupid.
"Hm. Mother Miranda gave me something as well, though perhaps not as overt. She called me yesterday and asked me to fetch a man she had locked up and bring him to the castle. An outsider. Told me to keep him alive, that he was important. He didn't look important to me at first; however, the maggot was able to provide some interesting information."
"Who the hell is he?"
She scoffed. "One of the outsiders who tried to kill her apparently." He considered that. It had to be someone from Celia's team.
"Why would she want him alive?"
"I don't know. But Miranda was sloppy. She sent one of her crows. I was able to snatch her little spy before it could return to her, but I'm left to assume she is keeping an eye on him for a reason."
"Probably waiting to see if Ethan had kicked your door in yet."
"Excuse me?"
"I spoke to Moreau." He paused. "He said Ethan was there and tried to kill him. Took his flask. And Donna's."
"How curious, that he knows about the flasks."
He swallowed another slug of whisky. "He said...he said that he killed Donna and took hers as well."
"Donna is dead?" Karl almost didn't recognize her voice. It made him nervous, agitated.
"I don't fucking know! You know Moreau that drama queen. But I wouldn't..." He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't be surprised. She probably couldn't protect herself. What the hell was she gonna do? Send her little ankle biters after him?"
He listened to her breathing, discomfort creeping in.
"So what are you going to do with the guy in the basement?" Karl changed the subject, eyeing the cigar on his desk.
Her voice snapped back, regaining her normal tone. "I had thought to deliver him to Miranda in pieces. Now I think it would be more appropriate to string him up on the front door for any visitors I may be expecting to call soon."
It was like her reaction to Donna was a fluke, a slip. God, she's cold as fuck. But who was he to talk?
"Listen, do whatever the hell you need to do but hurry it up. He's on his way." He wasn't worried about her taking care of herself, especially since she would be expecting company. His next words tumbled out before he could stop them. "You should come to the factory."
"What?"
"I have a whole army here. And I have a plan. You need to get your ass over here."
But, my daughters can't-"
"Well fucking leave them there! What the hell good would they be anyway? Are they going to annoy Miranda to death? Jesus Alcina."
It took her a few seconds to respond, but she surprised him when she did."I have some things to attend to. I'll be there before sunrise."
"Listen, you need to give me an exact time. I've got this place locked down."
"There are a few things I need to do first. I'll be in touch. I'll call you when I leave. Expect me by first light."
He hung up.
Shit. I forgot to tell her about her flask. She would figure it out.
xx
Karl knocked on the door with the hand that held the half-empty bottle, the conversation with Alcina still buzzing in his brain. It was probably the first real, civil conversation with her he had had in over half a century. "You pass out in there?"
He heard movement, but no response.
"You alive?" He cracked the door, letting steam out into the room.
"I'm not sure." she whispered, words slightly slurred. She must have been hitting the flask as hard as he was hitting the bottle. He decided he would keep his conversations to himself for a bit, until he had time to process. Until he could find out if the guy Alcina had was someone important to her. He may already be in pieces underneath House Dimitrescu.
Probably not the smartest idea, for both of us to be fucked up while a superhuman plots our deaths and could at any minute launch a strike that would raze the factory to the ground. At least they were pretty far below her reach, basically locked in a bunker.
He pushed the door slightly wider; unfortunately, all but a single leg was obscured to him. The light from the candle flame danced over her slick skin. "Need me to rescue you?" He joked, but he couldn't seem to bring the light-hearted tone into his voice.
"No. You did enough of that already today." The tone of her voice was a little too sharp, too serious.
He walked into the room and took a seat on the stool by the door next to the shower. He was greeted by the dark outline of her through the curtain. She was so still and silent, Karl could almost hear her thinking.
He spoke to the silhouette of her through the curtain. "Wanna talk about it?"
"I don't know. What good will it do?"
"Probably won't do shit, but it's good for passing the time." He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. It's too hot in here. "And no time like the present."
"It's just...so much has happened, so quickly. I haven't really had time to process it. I close my eyes, and I relive what happened. When it's quiet like this, and I have time to think about...what happened. It's painful."
"Painful?" He ran his hands through his still-damp hair, pulling it up and away from his neck as sweat started to bead there.
"Yeah. I keep replaying it in my mind. Everything has been so surreal. It wasn't supposed to go like this. You know? And I think back on the last few days and it's been so...confusing. My uh, partner. James. He died when the van was...stopped. If I could say I had something like a best friend, he was it. I haven't even really processed that he's dead. A few times already, like when I was first attacked in the village...when it was over my first instinct was to talk to him. Brag about the headshots. Show him the crystals I found. Thank him for the beef jerky he gave me. For those split-seconds, I forgot he was dead. I'll never speak to him again. I think I took his friendship for granted."
The implication hung heavy. He had been the cause of her partners death, or at least, a big part.
Friend. He didn't remember what it was like to have a friend. Were they friends? No, they were associates with a mutual goal. Well, mostly mutual.
"You loved him?" He attempted to make it sound less awkward than it felt to ask.
She pulled her leg back in the tub, out of his view. "Something like that. Not...that kind. Maybe it would have been one day. But, in short, yes. The work we did, I did, I didn't have many friends. I traveled so much. I was by myself a lot. I was in a dark place. The constant fighting. The killing. And not always BOWs. I mean, not always...you know. Sometimes it was people."
She didn't want to say 'monster', for obvious reasons, even though it's what they were both thinking.
"When we were assigned together, the struggle I felt was...less. With him, I didn't feel so alone. I had someone to talk to. Someone who understood. In a way, we were alone together if that makes sense."
He was quiet; her words burning him so deeply he could feel the blisters. He knew. Oh god, he knew.
A full minute passed before she spoke again. "You ever loved someone?
He chuckled with the absurdity of the whole situation. He mimicked her words. "Not that kind. But yes. A long time ago."
He thought back. Had he? He wasn't sure anymore. It was too long since he felt anything real, except disappointment and rage and regret. It was so constant it had become part of his personality and tainted every memory of every experience. And had those old memories even been real? The parallels between them brought him back to the time before he was every bit the monster Miranda made him.
"I, spoke to Alcina. She's alive. She's going to be here in the morning." He didn't acknowledge the fact that Alcina had not that long ago tried to murder her.
The water sloshed around in the tub. "Karl. Can I ask you something?"
"If it's about the booze I have more in the desk out there."
"No, it's not that. I...why won't you tell me about Alcina?"
Shit.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Karl."
"What do you want to know?"
She didn't respond, but Karl found himself answering the question she never asked.
"She...was different back then."
"Different how?"
He took a sip from the bottle and leaned back, his head against the sink. "I was pretty young when it all happened. I don't really remember much from my childhood. But I remember her. My parents weren't exactly loving.
From what I can remember, my mother was really devout. Obsessed with Miranda. My father was a hard worker, didn't spend too much time with him. He was always somewhere in the factory, fixing things. I wasn't being cute when I said the factory made weapons. We did, just a different kind than today. He worked, and he drank...My mother worked, and she prayed. That was it, day in and out."
"She died when I was 10 and left me with that prick. I was basically raising myself at that point. I was alone. Well. Not really alone. I had her. She was always around, though I'm not sure why. Wherever I went in the village, Alcina was there. She treated me...differently. Brought me toys, and treats. Little luxuries my parents never seemed to understand, not that they couldn't afford it. Hell, as it turns out my father had a goddamn fortune, which I inherited. Along with the factory. But, in the end it was all bullshit. She used me to gain favor with Miranda."
"How?"
He let out a laugh. "Alcina kidnapped me in the middle of the night and brought me to Miranda to cut open and shove this thing in me." This was the first time he had ever said anything like this out loud. It was too late to stop now.
Her voice was softer now. "How old were you?"
He stared at the silhouette behind the curtain. "Old enough to remember and young enough that I trusted her."
"It's worse than it sounds. So Alcina takes me in after that. Treats me like a son. For four years, I lived with her. One day, she comes to me and tells me to leave. That I had to come back to the factory. And that my father was dead."
"I don't get it."
"Don't get it? What's not to get? It was all a ruse, a long power play set up by Miranda. I was just a tool to them both. I didn't see it at first, but Miranda just used me for my power. A strong arm. A builder. The only one who could leave the village to procure things she needed. Do the dirty stuff she needed done so she could get what she really wanted – to bring back her kid from the dead. And what does that big bitch Dimitrescu get in return for helping Miranda? She gets herself some real kids. Miranda gave her the research to create those shitty daughters of hers - in her image. She finally had the family she wanted. And she didn't have to pretend with me anymore."
"Karl, that's...awful. With everything she's done...why do you want to help her?"
He didn't want to even think about the reason, much less say it out loud. But, there was the other truth. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I'm just using her to get what I want. Maybe I'm just as bad as Miranda." Only recently had it dawned on him. He had made a habit of using others. My Soldats, Sturm, the haulers, the villagers, the Lycans...you.
At the sound of metal scraping on metal, he lifted his head to see her eyes on him at him. Her head rested on her arms, which were casually draped over the side of the tub. She didn't bother hiding her nakedness from him.
"I don't believe that Karl." Her tone was even and breathy. "You don't need her to get what you want. You have me for that." Her green eyes bore into him long after they closed.
He was feeling something different than anger and bitterness now. What it was, he couldn't place. It was like an avalanche, a rockslide from his chest down to his stomach. He took another drink as his head swam. It really was too long since he had a bath.
xx
Maybe it was the meds she put in the water, or maybe it was the booze; but Celia felt incredibly light. All the pain and ache she felt when her body first hit the water had melted away and she was floating. Not even the weight of the conversation could sink her.
Behind closed eyes, she saw the imprint of his face and bare chest illuminated by the glow of the candle. She was sliding into sleep when she felt the water ripple around her. From its place over her arms, she turned her head to find that same broad chested man in the water with her, leaning back with both arms on the edges as if he had been there all along. The bottle of liquor in his hand clinked against the side of the tub then onto the stool. Through the darkness, she could see his expression. His hair was pulled up away from his face, the silver of his eyes glinting through a hooded gaze. His body was slightly obscured by the dark color of the inside of the tub giving the water an inky appearance...but she saw all she needed to. He was gorgeous.
His eyes were on her, too. But not like she expected. He looked at her as if he had already seen every curve of her body, knew every inch. For all the words that ran through her mind, in her dumbed, groggy state; she found herself unable to form them.
They stayed like that for a few moments before, without a word, he leaned forward and held her wrists. He tugged on them gently, and she let him guide her through the water and into his strong arms, turning her body until her back rested against his chest. She felt his deep inhale and exhale as she settled into him. She was torn completely, trying to process what was happening. One half of her was on fire, her heart hammering lava through her veins. The other half was so tranquil; comfortable. Mixed together with the alcohol, it felt like she was melting into him.
His hands slid around her midsection, grazing the underside of her breasts and he pulled her tight to him, pushing the side of his face to hers. His rough chin scratched the top of her shoulder, and she inhaled heavily as she traced his arms with her hands, stopping to rest them on top of his. Her eyes slipped closed as she took in smoke and leather laced with whisky.
xx
Maybe it was the alcohol. Or the conversations with his 'siblings.' Maybe it was the attempt on his life or the fact that she almost lost hers. Whatever it was, it was foreign. He pushed his face to hers as her hands slid over his arms. The flame across the room danced and moved, lighting up the parts of her he had only imagined. Her body was perfect. Not just her shape; but the way it fit him like she belonged there. Like she should have been there all along. He wasn't surprised to see the light, jagged scars that adorned her body. He paused at the one on her shoulder that had been his first glimpse of the skin that lay hidden from him. With his lips, he traced it and she moaned softly under him. He unabashedly pushed his hard cock against her back.
He wasn't a stranger to the company of women, but never from the village, and certainly never in his home. He would find some small, out of the way bar, enjoy some time in the pleasurable company of a woman, and politely see himself to the door. He had never wanted anything more, though he knew all too well that some of the women did. But he was no one to them, in those small towns. A mysterious drifter. And that kind of pleasurable company was all too easy to find.
But this was different. It wasn't that he didn't want her, he did, and he was sure she knew it too, pressed up against him as she was. He could easily make a move now, could slip his hands below the water and watch the blush of her face deepen past the pink flush from the steam rising from the bath. The thought alone had him biting his lip in the struggle. But he knew, in this moment, what he really wanted was something...else. Something he never had before and might never have again.
He pulled her closer to him, sliding his right arm around her ribs and the left up across her chest, over her breasts and hand wrapped over her collarbone. Close to him. They stayed there like that until he felt her breathing slow and the candlelight dim. He knew he couldn't keep her. But tonight, in that moment, he would have her. He could hold on to her and smell her and feel her heartbeat. He could pretend that she was his.
And they could be alone, together.
Xx
Alcina steeled herself, holding up her hands as Karl threw everything in the room he could get his hands on. First, the pillows. The lamps. Books. The teacup he had taken from his home to bring her as a gift from those lost days before he was turned. Thankfully, it didn't break. With her foot, she slid it under the bed to keep it safe; hoping he didn't see.
She let him scream, yell, eventually hit and slap at her with his weak hands. His face was the color of the blood smearing his fists from how viciously he had attacked the walls in his rage. Thankfully, she had made it a point to adorn his rooms in fineries of porcelain and linen – having removed most of the metal from the rooms after his powers began to emerge. Even still, she could hear the pounding of objects beyond the room. The hallways would certainly be destroyed after this. But that didn't concern her now.
The years had gone by quickly. With each passing day she had tried to put more distance between them. For the effort, it had created only the opposite effect as Karl grew sad and despondent and she, lonely and longing.
"How could you! How could you give me away!? To her!"
This wasn't the first time he had questioned Mother Miranda, as blasphemous as it was.
She longed to grab him and pull him to her. But she couldn't prolong it, couldn't make it any more difficult on either of them. She hardened her voice, speaking matter-of-factly. "You will go to live with the chaperone Mother Miranda has selected for you."
"No. I won't go."
"She knows what's best. The factory is your rightful home. You should be there."
"She's the one who did this to me in the first place. She took me away from my family!"
"Ha! Your family! That drunken fool would have sold you off if he thought the coin worth the effort. You had no family." The words coming out of her mouth hurt her just as much as they did him, though she kept her face steady as his fell. Tears welled in his eyes. "I...I thought, I thought you were my family."
She remained quiet, not letting him see the dagger he was piercing into her soul. Her chest constricted as she kept her stare dispassionate.
His tears began to fall as the energy he expended had finally taken its toll. "Don't you love me?" His voice had turned desperate, pleading.
She turned away from him; she couldn't let him see how she gasped for air at the very notion that she did not, could not.
She heard him grab the bag she had packed for him. He was chosen, and she couldn't disobey Miranda. He would have a good life, it was just hard now. With time, he would see his purpose. She couldn't let her selfishness get in the way of what he was meant to be.
"I hate you." He didn't say it with anger. The door closed behind him, and she was left with those words echoing in her mind. She had no doubt they would haunt her for the rest of her cursed, unnatural life. A curse she deserved.
It is for the best.
