From every rack hung a partially disassembled mechanical being, wires spilling like split veins from open joints and abdominal cavities. A whole work table held models of heads — not all of them humanoid, as if Norman was experimenting with new, more efficient shapes. Some of them were so warped that they could only have been molded by human hands pressing and stretching the metal like clay.
The air was thick with the smell of oil, metal, and that peculiar metallic scent that heralded the use of magic. Energy was so heavy in the atmosphere that it made histeethbuzz.
Atria made the softest noise, a choked sort of gasp, and stumbled back into his chest.
Kaz gripped her upper arms and followed her eyeline back to the bank of monitors. Beside a beaten rolling chair and a small table covered in food wrappers and old coffee mugs, a mostly whole m-droid hung from a coat rack. Electrodes were hooked up to gaps in its head and chest, twining with clear wires full of pale, viscous fluid. The lines extended in two directions. One bunch led to the monitors, where they were hooked into a port, and the other to what looked like a small metal box with a latch perched on top of a humming computer tower.
He’d seen a lot of heinous shit in his line of work, and that meant he had no trouble identifying what that box might be.
An m-siphon.
“I… Norm?” Atria’s voice was strangled. “What is going on here?”
Kaz turned his head to look at the scientist. His heart seized when he came face to face with a primed bolt gun only a handful of feet from his face.
“Let her go, Karl,”Norman demanded, voice pitched high enough to break.
Kaz turned the rest of his body slowly, his eyes on the barrel of the gun, and held up his hands. He could feel Atria whirling around behind him and knew the moment she spotted the gun by the way her fingers dug into the folds of his jacket.
“Norman!” The horror in her voice threatened to steal what little rationality Kaz still had. He didn’t give a shit about being shot — it happened often enough for him to be used to it, really — but his mate being scared for her life was more than he could handle.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Atria!” His hands shook as he gripped the gun, but he still somehow managed to keep it level with Kaz’s head when he went on, “You were supposed to be picked up at the airport and then delivered to me. You weren’t supposed to be with anyone. The plan was ruined! Everything isruined!”
Atria sucked in a sharp breath. He could hear the strain under her forced calm when she asked, “Ruined? What are you talking about? I’m here. Please just… just put down the gun so we can talk.”
“I tried talking to you,” he snapped. “You never listened to me! Remember? I tried formonths.”
“I’m listening now.” She made to step out from behind him, but Kaz immediately matched her, keeping her mostly shielded from view.
Norman’s arms jerked as he followed their movements. The gun, unwieldy in his untrained hands, bobbed for a moment before he aimed it back at Kaz’s head. “Stop moving, orc! Atria, get over herenow.”
He felt her jump, then start to move out from behind him again. Dropping one arm to halt her progress, Kaz growled, “Not one more step.”
“He has agunaimed at yourhead,”she hissed.
“I am very aware of that.” He kept his eyes trained on Norman’s increasingly sweaty face. If he was going to shoot, the intention would be telegraphed there first.
I can disarm him, but he’s twitchy enough that he might accidentally pull the trigger,he thought, discarding every plan of attack almost as soon as it presented itself.And if I go for it, I leave Atria exposed. One hit from that gun and she’s dead.
The only real option was to distract him until he could maneuver her into an area with cover. That decided, Kaz began to subtly angle his body away from the nearest workbench and cluttered rack, which in turn pushed Atria closer.
“You seem pretty wound up,” he said, addressing Norman. “Do you want to tell us what’s got you pointing a gun you don’t know how to use or do you want me to guess?”
Norman’s bloodshot eyes turned flinty with rage. Looking Kaz up and down, he asked, “Who the fuck are you? You look like some thug who could barely hold a conversation with Atria, let aloneme.”
Kaz shrugged. “Might be right, but I’m not just a thug. I’mherthug.”
He watched closely, still subtly moving his body to angle Atria back toward the racks, as Norman’s face went from flushed to beat red. His voice went up an octave when he demanded, “Is this who you’re shacking up with now?Really?”
“I—”
“Yes,” Kaz answered for her. Still holding up his kohl-darkened hands, he gave his claws a taunting wiggle. When Norman’s eyes darted to his hands, all the vivid color drained from his face in a rush.
Speaking with a savage smile, Kaz announced, “She’s mymate,asshole.”
Atria’s voice was as soft as a breath. “…What?”
If he could have risked taking his eyes off of Norman’s stricken face for even a second, Kaz would have turned to peer over his shoulder with a scowl.What? What do you meanwhat?
