Athame
Chapter Three
Anita whispered silent thanks to whatever force had been watching over her. No one had spared the escaping agent a second glance as she strode purposefully out of the hospital’s restricted wing. The guard’s discarded Glock chaffed uncomfortably against her chest, but its presence was a talisman against her growing paranoia.
The urge to go to Holden was growing steadily more intense. Doyle had tried to kill her, just because she mentioned the wrong name. Until the agent understood more of what was going on, she needed to be with someone who could be trusted.
Her finger tapped urgently against the stolen keyfob as her eyes swept the car park. In the end she had to explore two levels before she found the relatively non-descript Rover. It almost certainly had some form of tracking device installed, but it wasn’t as if Doyle’s people didn’t already know where she worked.
At this late hour, the London streets were relatively clear and the drive was almost cathartic. Her body lapsed into the comfortable routine, while her mind was freed to ruminate, at least until she reached the river.
She flashed her ID badge at the entrance to the underground car park. Thames House had always felt like a sanctuary. Even that time the provos hit it with an RPG-7 hadn’t managed to crack its air of invulnerability. But now, with her head swimming in unsolicited knowledge, even the familiar face of the gate guard seemed sinister.
Somehow, she made it to the elevator unmolested. The short journey inside the uncomfortably coffin-like box gave Anita a brief respite from the building tension. But all too soon, the motion slowed and finally came to a somewhat shaky halt. The doors slid open hesitantly, leaving the agent to decide how best to track down her elusive boss.
The satellite feed returned just as suddenly as it had been lost. Perkins grasped at the flimsy excuse, returning to his console and leaving Holden clutching the yellowed folder, the majority of his questions still unanswered. They both knew this conversation wasn’t nearly over. But, for the moment at least, it was on hold.
The researcher adjusted the image, focussing on the largest cluster of heat sources. Comms was back online, and would, no doubt, reveal exactly what had happened during the five minutes of silence. For the technician though, it was a matter of pride that he could interpret the images before that happened.
“Okay,” he began hesitantly, “I can see two bodies down, but both are still moving. The rest of the troopers are with the target. They… shit… Sir, I think they got her.”
After finding themselves effectively isolated, the operation’s room suddenly had more information than they knew what to do with. But the picture that was emerging seemed to tally with Perkins’ initial assessment.
“They’re bringing her in,” the comms’ officer announced.
Holden rose swiftly, his expression leaving Perkins with no doubt that he still had explanations to provide. The technician winced, not relishing that particular interview. But right now, it appeared his superior had other things on his mind.
“Call Jarvis,” he grimaced. “Tell her to get over here and meet me in interrogation.”
The troopers weren’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t as if they could inflict any real damage on her heavily augmented frame. Polycarbonate shackles would have been overkill with any other prisoner. In her case, they were no more than exotic jewellery.
It might have been comical, were it not for Mistress’ sudden and unexpected absence. So she played the role everyone seemed to expect of her.
Pretending.
Pretending that the canvas hood stopped her from pinpointing her location with undreamt of accuracy. Or that she couldn’t take out the entire squad before they even realised their captive was loose.
Pretending she was something even close to human anymore.
She let her eyes drift closed and concentrated on each man’s heartbeat in turn. Isolating the varied rhythms and trying to match them with the images of that apparently pointless battle. Celeste felt part of her mind split away, mapping the Land Rover’s interior and plotting the most efficient movements to disable the soldiers.
The information would never be used, but there was something liberating about letting the varied scenarios play out, even in the airbrushed banality of the purely virtual.
Holden wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, especially after Perkins’ frankly unbelievable description. But the silver-skinned woman seemed to have stepped directly from the pages of the archaic paper records.
He felt his chest tighten. Adrenaline coursed through his system and had precious little to do with fear. Her face was concealed behind thick fabric, but the rest of her body was exposed to his casual inspection. Every inch of gleaming flesh had been carefully sculpted. The ungainly figure he knew from the surveillance tapes was gone.
In place was a vision of perfect feminine beauty and, one that, if Perkins was to be believed, could still tear apart her honour guard with consummate ease.
The troopers were oblivious to this new information and happily encouraged their charge with rifle butts when they felt she was being tardy. But the woman never stumbled once, no matter how brutal their treatment, and her silence in the face of their abuse seemed to infuriate them even more.
Their anger didn’t surprise him in the least, although that didn’t stop him being a little disappointed by their lack of professionalism. It was true that the two casualties were still awaiting surgery and, despite the advances in neurosurgery, there was still no guarantee that either would fully recover. But somehow he had expected more from such an elite unit.
None of that was his concern, however. He had an interview to conduct and, just as soon as Jarvis arrived, they could get started.
The chair to which they chained her was a lot sturdier that the shackles themselves. Celeste sat, ramrod straight, and waited. Preparations continued around her for several minutes and then the soldiers withdrew.
Celeste had no idea what she was supposed to do. All she had to hold onto was the belief that Mistress would provide.
She sensed someone approach, and felt the lighting flare bright. The hood was ripped away, leaving her to blink against the harsh glare. Part of her wanted to laugh. Did they really expect this to work? What were they going to try next, stress positions and waterboarding?
To say the room was utilitarian would have been an arch understatement. The walls and floors were plated with metal tiles, and a solid-looking table was bolted in place at the room’s centre. Two chairs stood opposite her, and both were occupied.
There were so many recording devices trained on her that Celeste quickly lost count. The spotlight had been trained on her face and would have reduced her interrogators to faceless silhouettes if her eyes hadn’t automatically filtered the otherwise blinding glare.
Her eyes narrowed, the only outward sign of the sophisticated image recognition software she was running. The man’s identity was revealed almost immediately. But, somewhat to her surprise, Celeste couldn’t match the woman’s face to anyone in her extensive files.
“Where’s Eris?” The man asked quietly, without preamble.
“Never heard of her,” Celeste replied, deadpan.
The small muscles around his eyes tensed, but beyond that there was no reaction. Even his heart rate continued at a very respectable 60 beats per minute. Mistress had been paying attention to this man for some time. What Celeste didn’t know was just how much he could be trusted.
“Who are you working for?” he sighed, resignation very clear in his tone.
“So, does this mean I’m not going to get my phone call?” she wondered aloud.
He might have his emotions tightly under control, but his companion was another matter entirely. She practically reeked of adrenaline and the rapid beating of her racing heart blended into a single note.
“We’ve been watching you, Benjamin,” Celeste explained. “And you’ve certainly made an impression. Your friend, however, is still an unknown quantity; that will need to change, if we’re going to have a conversation.”
At first she thought the woman was about to break her silence, but Holden seemed to sense this as well and moved to pre-empt her.
“That’s all very intriguing,” he allowed, his expression tight. “But what I really want from you are some answers. You put one of my people in hospital, not to mention what you did to those two soldiers. Give me something… or we’ll be forced to take it.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, both measuring the strength of the other’s conviction. Celeste fought to keep her face neutral, as her premonition was proven correct. Not that she expected anything else; the apes were confused… frightened and so they lashed out.
“Are you going to torture me?” Celeste whispered, wrapping her tongue around the idea and letting its sensuality coat every syllable.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” the woman interjected, her voice flat and cold. “We’re not barbarians.”
She placed a small flashdrive on the table between them and Celeste found herself wondering just how the American had gotten that past security. Another question tripped clumsily towards her lips, but Holden was faster.
“Why don’t you enlighten her, Katherine?” he suggested casually, “about what’s on your little toy.”
Celeste caught the flash of irritation as it flickered between them, sensing some of Holden’s anger now, despite how well he kept it concealed. This wasn’t in the script and yet they were both professional enough to pretend otherwise.
“It’s a virus,” the American explained. “A little something we cooked up especially. It’ll find the information we want, although I can’t make any promises about what will be left once it’s ripped the secrets from your brain.”
Her grin was entirely false, but the hatred boiling from the woman’s slender frame felt genuine. Celeste canted her head to one side and for the first time really looked at her interrogator. After a moment the she nodded, her own smile as plastic as the woman before her.
“Which one do you belong to?” she whispered.
Things were rapidly spiralling out of Holden’s control. The woman knew far too much and had still managed to tell him nothing. He had the very strong impression that he was being toyed with. But to what end, he couldn’t begin to fathom.
When Jarvis suddenly produced the USB-stick, he didn’t know what to think. Logically, the device should have been detected during one of the many security checks. And, even if she had managed to somehow smuggle it inside, Jarvis would still have had to pass at least one electromagnetic pulse generator.
He was adaptable enough to play along, at least for now. But something wasn’t right here; Jarvis clearly had her own agenda and, if there was one thing he hated, it was losing the initiative.
Then, the exotic woman leaned as close as her shackles would allow and whispered something enigmatic. Holden felt a thrill of excitement run through him, stirring feelings that had no place in the interrogation suite. She was beautiful, that much was obvious, but there was something else. It was something primal, which spoke directly to his reptile brain.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, fighting against several million years of evolution.
She turned her eyes to him, mouth slightly parted, revealing the shining wetness of her tongue within.
“Eris,” his prisoner replied, “as you call her, is only one of many. Your friend here, if I guess correctly, serves another.”
That didn’t make any sense. He’d know Katherine for more years than he cared to remember. They were friends, perhaps more. So, he had to ask himself, why wasn’t he just dismissing the wild claim and, more importantly, why wasn’t she?
“It’s why Mistress sent me to you, Ben,” the robot continued. “They don’t play nice with others and what you’ve seen so far is merely the beginning. There’s a war coming… and Beverly Watch needs to make sure you’re on the right side.”
“Beverly?” Holden gasped, blindsided by the unexpected name. “But she…”
Whatever he had been about to say, it was cut short by the shrill sound of tearing metal.
The American’s eyes flashed crimson and time slowed to a slothful crawl. Celeste stretched, tugging apart the heavy bindings and kicking away from the table. In the same instant, the other woman launched herself over the table, still clinging to the flashdrive.
Celeste knew it served no useful purpose, but that didn’t stop her from wishing that Mistress hadn’t gone. She trusted her shining Goddess, and yet even that faith wasn’t quite enough to entirely dismiss the sensation of abandonment.
But the other woman was moving so fast, she had to have been wired, and there was no time to think. Forms reeled through Celeste’s mind, while her whirling arms brushed away her attacker’s clumsy strike.
Change shivered down her limbs, adapting them to the battle. She saw her opponent’s eyes widen, but fought back the sense of elation. Celeste was focussed on the device, and how the woman wielded it like a weapon. The threat of the virus felt all too real and she wasn’t about to become complacent.
From Holden’s all too human perspective, both women were now a blur. He knew his reactions were fast, but not in comparison to what he was seeing. It was impossible to judge what was going on. But one thing was very clear. The situation couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Moving cautiously at first, he suddenly realised how futile that was and lunged towards the panic button. He had no idea whether the security detail could do anything to these two, but they had a darn sight more chance than he did.
Jarvis’ backhand swipe caught him just under the ribcage and lifted him from his feet. The shock of that impact tore the air from his lungs, but for the moment at least, there was no pain, although he knew that would come later.
He crashed into the reinforced wall and tasted blood. Something gave inside, twisting savagely and nearly making the operative retch. That was when the pain hit him, pooling around his slumped form and bathing him in agony.
The attack left Celeste momentarily stunned. This was the person she had been sent to find, that Mistress had trusted her to contact and he had been struck with crushing force, a blow that would almost certainly prove fatal.
“You stupid bitch!” she hissed, switching instantly from defence to aggression.
She slid forward, letting her movements flow smoothly from within. Using the back of one hand, she knocked away her opponent’s guard; then rammed the other upwards, its fingers curled into a relaxed claw.
Her target had just enough time to scream when Celeste’s arm slipped beneath the woman’s waistcoat, emerging from beneath her stiff collar. The strangely plastic limb rotated, catching hold of the expensive blouse and then, in one swift movement, tore through that illusory protection.
Celeste spun the American free, but kept her grip on the shredded clothing. The woman stumbled away, unable to keep her balance. Breasts now hidden behind only the sparsest gauze, her eyes blazed angrily.
The chrome-plated woman twirled the stolen clothing, an impudent smile on her face. In response, her opponent hurled the USB-drive and Celeste saw for the first time how it stretched and changed. She drifted aside, let it float pass and then darted forward once again.
Ignoring the woman’s attempts to engage her, she simply danced past, catching hold of a handful of skirt and jerking savagely. The resulting howls of angry denial were a delight, but even more so, she couldn’t help but admire the sudden splash of tanned and toned flesh.
“Lose the bra,” Celeste growled, “unless you want me to take that as well.”
She knew that the woman had already been filled with crystal, so her needles would be next to useless, and one look at those glowing eyes dissuaded Celeste from even thinking about using Mistress’ lenses. That left breaking her the old fashioned way.
Grinning hungrily, Celeste watched as the woman very reluctantly peeled away the clinging garment. She couldn’t tell how much of that physique was down to the augmentations, and what might be real. But the swell of her small breasts and how they flowed so beautifully into surprisingly dark nipples, proved just a little too distracting.
“What’s your name, little one?” she wondered. Then her muscles started to seize.
Lying sprawled and broken, Holden could only watch as the uncomfortably erotic battle played out. The pain was slowly ebbing, but instead of helping to calm him, that only fuelled his concerns. He could no longer feel his legs and, even the smallest movement sent lances of pain through the rest of his body.
It was clear that Jarvis was outmatched, although she too was moving far too quickly for him to follow. But for the moment at least, her opponent seemed satisfied to tear away her clothing, layer by layer. Normally, Holden was a firm believer that less was more, especially when the tease of a hint of flesh was almost always let down by the big reveal.
Staring at his old sparring partner’s nakedness, he was forced to revise that opinion. Both women were beautiful, but there was something about Jarvis’ softer lines that cut through the painful haze and poured wetly into his crippled libido. She’d tried to kill him only moments before, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Blood loss was making him light-headed and splashing dark motes across his vision and so, at first he ignored the furtive movement. Its odd, scuttling quality was enough to claim his attention though, especially as it strayed closer to the melee.
Initially, he didn’t recognise the unpleasantly organic thing. It shot forward, moving on far too many, long, flexible legs. Only the glint of silver gave him any clue as to what it was and, he didn’t want to believe. It couldn’t be Jarvis’ flashdrive, could it?
Before he could ponder that question, the thing’s legs curled beneath it. He opened his mouth, wanting to yell some kind of warning as it wriggled, looking uncomfortably like a cat preparing to pounce. All that emerged from his lips were bubbles and the acrid taste that so perfectly matched his agony.
Then, the thing sprang, hurling itself at the metal-woman’s unprotected rear.
Something squirmed against her neck and even before Celeste’s boosted reflexes could respond, error messages began to swarm through her thoughts. The virus was a hideous amalgam of brute force and deception. What was worse, it had clearly been configured to attack her system. Adaptive defensive software was deployed automatically but was almost immediate swept away.
Cramp caught hold of Celeste’s musculature, tightening every sinew until her limbs wrapped about her in an intimate and apparently inescapable hug.
The flashdrive burrowed more deeply into her spine, sinking its tendrils into silver flesh. She could feel it melding with her, becoming part of her, even as its payload integrated itself with her kernel. It felt so good, she wanted to howl. But, only when it physically connected with her pleasure centres, did Celeste finally have to succumb to that urge.
All the corridors looked alike!
Anita didn’t have time for this, but no one seemed to know what had happened to Holden. Some instinctive urge took her to operations, although she knew he had long since left. Choosing one researcher, seemingly at random, she managed to get a rough idea of what had happened, but she’d reckoned without the seemingly labyrinthine passages beneath Thames House.
Perkins had told her that the target was being interrogated down here. He had also tried to warn her against going anywhere near it. The man was scared, but unwilling to explain why. She was sick and tired of this ‘need to know’ bullshit!
Without really understanding why, Anita drew and readied her commandeered sidearm. She felt her heart beat a little bit faster, as her body tensed in expectation. Only then did she become aware of the faint noises coming from somewhere ahead.
The agent could make out the sound of hurried footsteps and the solid meaty thuds that spoke so eloquently of a fistfight. A real sense of urgency flooded through her, drowning her natural caution and pushing her into a sprint.
Everything had to fight its way through the thickening blanket of arousal, clouding Celeste’s sensations and making it hard to think.
The American faded into that haze, but her voice remained clear and the ‘bot found herself hanging on to the words.
“Katherine,” the woman breathed, while the virus took those gentle sounds and turned them into pleasure.
Celeste didn’t know when she had collapsed. Time had become fluid and almost impossible to fathom. Heat pulsed through her, consuming anything it touched and letting the embers caress her trembling thoughts.
“Feels good,” Katherine whispered, stroking each sound over the ‘bot’s mercurial sex. “Doesn’t it? Trust me, that won’t last. But, by then you won’t be able to care. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all the same in the end… or at least it will be.”
The chromed woman urged her spasming limbs to move, fighting against the paralysis, despite how much that amplified its effects. Her Goddess had placed her trust in her most lowly servant and Celeste couldn’t allow herself to fail.
“I will know all that you are,” the other woman explained, her tone suddenly harsh. “You’re mine, just as the tool your Mistress sought will become.”
A sense of preternatural calm stole over him and Holden knew that was a bad sign. He’d already catalogued his injuries and, as far as her could tell, it was now only a matter of time. The cracked ribs had almost certainly punctured his lung and it seemed likely that he was bleeding internally.
But it was the numbness that concerned him most of all. Because, unless he missed his guess, it meant he’d damaged his spine and that wasn’t the kind of damage from which you just recovered. He felt almost embarrassed, ashamed perhaps, that none of that dampened his ardour.
Watching the original target sink so gracefully to the floor was almost painfully erotic. Seeing something so potent brought low was a powerful image and Jarvis’ reaction only added to that. This wasn’t the woman he knew. It was the woman he had always imagined, perhaps even fantasised about. He felt as though someone had taken his darkest desire, the Jarvis that haunted his restless dreams and used it to distil this thing.
When she finally turned away from her victim and fixed him with her baleful stare, Holden felt the pain momentarily ease.
She smiled, Katherine’s smile and then slowly cocked back her wrist. The thin crystal shard glinted wickedly and, without taking her eyes off him, she raised it to her lips and let the tip of her tongue play down the length of its sharpness.
Had he the strength, Holden might have whined, but it was too much of an effort to even get the air into his burning lungs.
“Don’t be scared,” she said and, quite suddenly, she was standing over him. “This will make you better.”
Her instincts screamed that this wasn’t the time for subtly and Anita embraced them. The interrogation room had a magnetic lock, but just as she’d always suspected, if you hit anything hard enough, it would fail.
Ignoring almost every aspect of her training, the agent stepped across the threshold. She held the gun in a comfortable, double-handed grip and sighted down its anodised barrel. The scene before her defied belief, but that wasn’t important.
The first thing she saw was Holden. His body had been crushed against the wall, leaving the metal dented. There was something wrong with the way his neck was twisted and thin, pick foam bubbled around his dusky lips. Standing over him was a woman Anita didn’t recognise, her clothing in tatters that did nothing to conceal her unnaturally smooth body.
Anita caught the glint of something in the woman’s hand and immediately snapped the gun into line with her. She barely registered other woman, despite the metallic sheen coating her equally naked skin. Even the briefest glance showed she wasn’t a threat.
“Not another step!” she commanded, surprising herself with the strength and assurance of her voice. “Boss, you okay?”
Very slowly, the woman turned in place, raising her hands above her head in a gesture that lifted her small breasts for Anita’s inspection.
“My eyes,” the woman giggled, her accent strong, “are up… here.”
The agent fought down her instinctive reaction, but could once again feel the colour darkening her cheeks. Her eyes snapped up, meeting the woman’s gleaming red gaze. Anita concentrated on what she needed to do. Holden was injured and that had to be her priority.
“That’s a very big gun,” the woman continued, her voice inexplicably lewd. “Especially for such a little girl.”
Anita bristled at that, tightening her grip on the awkward weapon as if she could some how use that to reassert her authority. The barrel wavered slightly, but she kept it fixed on her target’s centre of mass.
“It looks so heavy,” her captive continued. “I’m surprised you can even lift it.”
It might have been her imagination, but the agent was sure the woman’s eyes had begun to flicker. The strain of keeping her in the pistol’s sights was growing more difficult to bear and Anita knew that she had to end this quickly.
“Turn around,” she barked, voice cracking. “On your knees, ankles crossed, hands behind your head, fingers laced together.”
Her eyes were watering now, as she tried to match the other woman’s unblinking stare. The gun was trembling so fiercely, she could no longer be sure of hitting the target, even at this range.
“I think you’re about done,” the American smiled, eyes very bright. “Don’t you? I mean, that gun’s far too heavy for you, isn’t it? So heavy you’re just about ready to let it drop…”
The weapon clunked against the tiles, bouncing twice before coming to rest. Anita’s leaden arms dropped to her sides and the rest of the room receded just a little bit further.
“You’re so very weak,” the woman insisted and, immediately, that was true. “It’s too much of an effort to even move… isn’t it? In fact, doing much of anything is beyond a weak, helpless, little girl like you… wouldn’t you say?”
It was growing harder to hold onto herself and, with every wave of painpleasure, another little fragment slipped away. Katherine had been right, Celeste could no longer tell where one sensation began or ended. The virus had twisted her perceptions into a paradoxical circle, in which agony and ecstasy bled into one another.
The ‘bot could do nothing and that impotence made everything so much worse and altogether better. Quicksilver spilled from her sex, tears of spent defiance that drooled powerlessly over her adamantine skin. Her personality was being eaten away and yet she just knelt there, longing to have her body fucked as completely as her mind.
She had all but given up hope when the door came crashing down and, by then, even her guilt had been swallowed by the tide of sensation. But, in that instant, everything changed.
Mistress’ presence surged into the small chamber, filling her with righteous strength. Her Goddess was back and wasn’t angered by her servant’s weakness. The virus was still there, gnawing at her mind, but suddenly she had a purpose and the will to see it through.
“My life for you,” she breathed as, inch by inch, her frozen joints began to move once again.
Anita couldn’t look away. That thought buried itself in the depths of her cunt and squeezed. For the third time in as many days the young agent found herself entirely at the mercy of someone far stronger, far more controlling and far more erotic.
“I should have just shot the bitch,” she thought. “But then you wouldn’t have got to feel like this, would you?”
Those eyes burned even more brightly, expanding to fill her vision. Tears poured over her cheeks, but neither of them took the slightest notice.
“That’s better,” the soft voice decided. “Nice and compliant… doesn’t that feel so much more delicious?”
“No!” she tried to scream, while her thoughts eroded that lie. “Yes, of course it does. You’re just a toy, remember? Fit only to be used and abused. A thing that can bring pleasure… nothing more.”
Cool fingers plucked delicately at her shirt, unpicking the small buttons one by one. The American’s presence was a warm tease, but it was those terrible eyes that seemed to burrow into the agent’s soul.
“I really don’t have time to play with you, now,” the woman sighed, longing and sorrow mingling in those words. “But I will, and I’m going to give you something to help you remember me. Just in case your memory grows… hazy.”
“Not for her!” Anita’s thoughts howled, trying not to think of the woman’s deft touch. “I’m Natasha’s pretty doll… not hers. I belong to Mistress!”
But then, those perfectly controlling hands were at her breasts, cupping the soft flesh and squeezing her engorged nipples.
Stiffly, Celeste rose from the floor. Exquisitely tender agony still sang through her circuitry, but she pushed it aside. There wasn’t much time and the ‘bot couldn’t afford any distractions. She’d already recognised the new arrival. The memory of the agent’s soft skin was so clear in her mind. Mistress had a special purpose for this one, and that knowledge added its own impetus to her actions.
The air around her filled with shimmering flakes, glittering psychic chaff that shrouded and concealed her presence. More silver spilled from her reaching fingers, as her form turned slowly more liquid. Every painful step brought the ‘bot closer to the frozen woman and her sensual tormentor.
Mistress’ property couldn’t be allowed to fall into the hands of an enemy, and the argent footprints she left behind made that all the more clear. There was no fear. Celeste had already accepted her fate. Now, all that remained was to make sure her Goddess would not be disappointed again.
She saw the crystal in the American’s hand and pushed herself to move even faster.
Her body shivered at the other woman’s casually perverse attention. Anita tried not to give in to the sensations assaulting her slender frame, but everything had been magnified several fold, except, it seemed, her strength of will.
Something sharp and unbearably sweet bit into flesh, piercing her taut nipple and sending tremors of passion cascading through her body. She screamed, long and hard, while electricity played over the surface of the tightly tensed globe.
“A little scratch,” her tormentor giggled, “to make you mine.”
Anita’s breast was athrob, stinging with erotic energy. The puckered nipple sang with unfulfilled need, practically begging to be touch.
“I belong to Mistress,” she whimpered, hopelessly to herself. “Ah, but does it matter which Mistress?”
“This, in case you were wondering,” the American smiled, “is a psi crystal.”
One long fingernail flicked the glittering shard and set it humming. Raw desire thrilled through Anita’s body, clutching at the folds of her dripping cunt and setting it on fire. The touch went on and on, one long, shivering climax that was shaking her faltering resolve to fragments.
“And if you think that’s good,” the woman laughed, “just wait until the other two piercings are in place.”
Whatever else happened, Celeste couldn’t allow this woman to fall into their enemy’s hands. Using her last reserves, the ‘bot stumbled into Katherine, taking the woman completely by surprise. Desperately, she wrapped her melting arms around the American’s torso, trapping her arms in place.
“Gotcha!” she gurgled playfully and began to squeeze.
Katherine squirmed wildly and Celeste’s limbs began to stretch and thin. Silver dribbled over the woman’s naked skin, glazing the toned flesh. But the ‘bot clung as tightly as possible, fighting to drag the treacherous woman away from the young agent.
Then, with a loud splash, Celeste finally lost her battle against the imperative to simply stop. Wet droplets splattered the American, painting her quicksilver bright. The flashdrive dropped free, clattering to the floor, its limbs still twitched spastically.
Katherine staggered away, waving her arms madly and trying to free herself from the chrome’s relentless grip.
For several minutes the battle raged, while the virus fizzled, immolating itself on Katherine’s very different architecture. Until, finally, she stopped struggling and simply stood there.
Silver seeped around Katherine’s neck and then poured up over her face, obscuring it behind mirrored smoothness. The metallic mask froze for a moment, revealing the ‘bot’s placid expression and then it simply vanished, melting back into her skin.
Her bare heel stamped down viciously, crushing the thrashing USB-drive into tiles. It trembled beneath her foot, spilling hot liquids, before the foul thing finally stilled.
Katherine stretched, languidly and then turned her attention back to the still entranced agent. The woman flexed her fingers experimentally and then wrapped them around Anita’s tender breast.
“Don’t worry,” she said, reassuringly, “You’ll only remember what you need.”
She leaned in and brushed her lips against the young woman’s, probing gently with her eager tongue.
Anita gave herself to the kiss, totally unable to resist. Her lips tingled, soft touches dancing ecstatically over the moist skin. She could taste metallic sweetness, as that wonderful tongue began to play, then merged imperceptibly into the sharp shock of the humming crystal being pulled free.
Another climax lifted her, using the constant simulation as a springboard to launch her into undreamt of heights. The orgasm blotted away everything, crushing her world into a dark pinprick of absolute pleasure, which then faded into dreamless unconsciousness.
Katherine eased the young woman to the floor, taking a moment to rebutton the stained blouse. More silver flowed from her body, mirror flesh slowly changing to match her shredding clothing. Once the deception was complete, she hit the panic button and then collapsed into an apparent faint.
The usurped agent would wake before security arrived and she would spin her tale of rescuing the mismatched pair from the rogue gynoid. Celeste’s smouldering remains would add authenticity when she told them how it had self-destructed rather than being taken again.
Mistress’ approval rang clearly through her mind, lulling the altered woman down into the blank depths of healing darkness.
Epilogue
Drugs kept the pain to a dull roar and, according to the doctors he was out of danger. That left only the near terminal boredom and the small matter of his paraplegia. He’d been abandoned, although that ostracism didn’t include the very discreet guards loitering with a purpose outside his room.
The last thing he remembered, before blood loss sucked away the remains of his awareness, was Agent May’s dramatic entrance. Up until that point, his version of events was very different from the official story. But, trapped here as he was, it seemed that no one was listening.
In fact, it had taken nearly all his influence to stop one of the Regiment from pressing charges against his rescuer. Once it became clear, however, that the spectacle of such a petite young woman being accused of trouncing an elite soldier at hand-to-hand combat would be a PR disaster, the trooper became almost eager to let the charges drop.
His ruminations were interrupted as the door swung open.
No treatments were scheduled and Perkins had been his one and only visitor. Tension flowed into his weakened body, and didn’t settle, even when he saw the familiar white coat. He didn’t recognise the doctor, which was unsettling in itself, but there was something about her that forced his hackles to rise.
“Hello, Ben,” she smiled, while her face flickered and shifted.
“Beverly?” he groaned, already reaching for the nurse call button.
“Don’t,” the woman answered, her voice urgent.
The emotion in that single word was enough to draw him up short and his mysterious visitor took the opportunity to slide onto the bed beside him. She grinned conspiratorially and rested on hand on his thigh.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, holding the operative with her gaze. “They moved faster than I anticipated.”
“They?” Holden wondered.
“Eris isn’t your enemy, Ben,” the woman explained, reached gently under the sheets. “The crystal is. But she’s not the world’s only new-spawned Goddess. There are more like me out there and most are not nearly so rational, or benign.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he groaned, unable to ignore her touch.
“Because, more than anyone else, I trust you,” she told him. “I trust you to get things done.”
His eyes drifted closed as the massage continued and it took him several seconds to realised he could feel his legs again.
“We’re playing with fire, Ben,” she continued. “Resurrecting tech best left buried. They think it gives them strength, but instead it makes us all vulnerable. They see the crystal as a weapon... and it is. Just not the one they suppose.”
“What are you doing?” he managed to gasp as pain coiled along previously dead nerve trunks.
She grinned, sweeping one hand up over his belly. Her eyes were suddenly very bright and Holden could already feel himself falling into their depth.
“The war has started,” Beverly whispered, “and once we’re done killing each other, whoever’s left will turn on you.”
“Me?” he asked, his voice painfully slurred.
“Humanity,” she answered, her voice already fading into the brilliance of those captivating eyes.
Sensation took hold of his body, wrapping it in soft caresses, and he felt himself stirring in response. But everything was growing more and more fuzzy and, try as he might, Holden just couldn’t keep his eyes from closing.
“Sleep now,” Beverly breathed and it seemed to him as if the words were echoing inside his mind. “I’ll be watching you, Ben… don’t let me down.”