The noise is so loud in here I can’t help but react, wincing at it. I level a glare at him as he draws in another breath and wait for him to open his mouth.
“When we—”
“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck—”
Steel sighs, clearly annoyed that he won’t find me a captive audience. I get like twenty more in with the occasional “asshole” thrown in for variety.
Steel stands, dusts off some imperceptible specks of whatever from his suit and flips a few switches on the control board.
Pain, bright and relentless, creeps up my veins. I gasp and curl in on myself, I thrash and pound the glass with my fists. No matter what I do, it doesn’t stop.
Within moments, I am reduced.
It burns throughout my bones, my wings, down every extremity. My teeth and fingernails are on fire. I can barely get any kind of thought in between the screaming sensations. My hold on myself, my control starts to slip.
Soon all I can do is pant and wince as I slump against the glass.
This stupid smug bastard grins at me from inches away, delighted. The thought of ripping his face apart with my teeth consumes everything inside me.
“I have a dedication ceremony to attend upstairs. I can’t promise we’ll keep the music down,” Steel says nonchalantly, before he downs the rest of his drink and plucks up a dry cleaner bag with a tuxedo in it, draping it over his shoulder.
All I can do is glare and bare my teeth at him as he smirks. “Normally it takes weeks, months even to complete the mutation process. But you, you’re already half-baked. We just need to turn up the temperature on this.”
16
Lacey
Steel greets me at my apartment door. “We’ve missed the first round of hors d’oeuvres, but there’s still time to make it for the pre-dinner toasts.”
Despite wearing a tux, he’s made some embellishments. His cybernetic boots come up to his knees, the crisp fabric of his expensive suit tucked inside them to better show them off, the same goes for a single cybernetic gauntlet over his right arm.
And of course, the long velvet cape that swishes wherever he turns.
“I’m sorry about earlier tonight, I was, um, really invested in my work,” I murmur, tucking some of my hair behind my ear, my satin, black glove catching on my pearl earring.
I don’t remember what the dress code for this evening is, but you can’t really go wrong with a black cocktail dress. I have a few layers of waterproof makeup and setting spray keeping the look together, but even a full glam effort doesn’t make a difference up close. My eyes are still red and puffy, anyone who stands next to me can tell I’ve been crying. I really, really, really, don’t want to have to stand up in front of a bunch of people and put on a smile for the cameras.
“The work can wait,” he says gallantly, as we head toward the elevator; he pauses and glances at my heels, but at least this time he decides against commenting on them. “What is all that effort worth if we don’t celebrate our victories?”
I manage a weak smile for him, however briefly. He’s right. God knows I’d probably overwork myself more often if it weren’t for him. At the same time, I feel like I’d be closer to figuring it all out if I ignored his advice.
“You’re right. I was just going in circles at this point, anyway.”
Steel nods sympathetically.
Literally circles. I spent most of the evening walking around the east side of Goethal, where Ellis said we had been under the city. I’d gone around with a map, peeking in the storm drains, marking off any that had a lot of ooze, which ones didn’t. My hope was to be able to narrow it down to a couple buildings to figure out which one might be producing the ooze, but Steel sent his car to pick me up for the event tonight.
It’s only a few floors down from the executive suites to the ballroom. There’s dozens of round tables arranged throughout the room, covered in tablecloths, expensive dishware, and clusters of crystalware. There’s a stage at the far end of the room, cameras and lights trained on the spot where a small podium stands alone.
I wonder why all the tables are so far back from the stage; it seems a little odd.
Clayton offers me his arm and an easy smile as a few people turn to see us entering the crowded room. He holds out the one with the sleek robotic armor.
Eyeing it, I’m horrifically over-aware of the broadcast camera that turns to follow us. “I said we were done, Clayton. I’m not going to keep doing these things with you.”
He takes my hand with the robot gauntlet. The metal is cold under my fingertips, even through my gloves, as he leads me out onto the floor.
He corrects me under his breath, “Lacey, darling, now’s simply not a good time for it.”
