Moving from there, she researched the sexual acts the women had described, amazed at the unsanitary nature of it all. Exchanging saliva and other body fluids did not seem like something beautiful. It sounded like a good way to get diseases! No wonder the priests were required to abstain. Strangely, the more she read, the more Rissa thought some of it sounded appealing. The thought of touching her mouth to his made warmth spread through her abdomen, but thinking of his tongue in her mouth doused the flames.
So why did she trust him, and what made her mind even contemplate such behavior? Was it because of his looks? Was she attracted to him? If she was, would it matter? The only answer she had was no, none of it mattered. He was a priest;she was an Ingénue. Both of them were prohibited from personal relationships. Their time together would be strictly professional and nothing else.
Buried among the many comments about him was a list of his past assignments and notable deeds. It was a very long list with acts ranging from talking a man down from the DataTech tower to saving a child who fell from the train platform. Everything was courageous, and much of it was dangerous. He'd killed seven men, on his own, to protect an accused criminal. The woman was later found to be innocent. He'd shielded the renowned human rights activist, George Stephanson, from a bomb intended to halt his speech on the basic rights of humanity. He'd also removed three prostitutes from the control of their pimp, taking two gunshot wounds in the process while shielding the girls with his body. Luckily, his armor had prevented any penetration, even though the medical report showed two cracked ribs and internal bruising.
Consistently, throughout all of it, there were comments about Sinclair Cassis's loyalty and devotion to protect his clients. It wasn't much, but it made her feel a little better about opening her mouth and telling him what went on inside the OutLink Enclave walls.
Of course, that led to her thinking about Pharmacon. Sinclair had said both of the men following them were highly ranked in their private security force. Had they known she'd tampered with the file on DCB's system? If so, how? Were they just guessing? Were they the ones who'd sent it? She let her mind drift across the web, seeking any information tying Pharmacon to the Ingénue Project.
Finally, she found it. Tucked in a controversial scientific journal was a whistleblower article written by a former employee. He claimed Pharmacon had developed a second and much more effective drug, one which would cure any resistanceto cybernetic enhancements and prevent any possible toxicity from the devices. He claimed it was a single-dose cure, and it had been clinically tested. According to the disgruntled scientist, he said OutLink had volunteered the Ingénue as test subjects.
Rissa paused, thinking about it. Her records listed a dose of Stabiltrol every day, but she had no way of knowing if it was given. Everything that entered her body, from nourishment to vitamin supplements, went through ports along her back, most of them down her spine. If the article was right, there would be no need for her to getanyrejection medication. She should be cured.
None of it made sense, but it was probably the most complex problem she'd ever faced. There was too little information and not enough correlation in the data. All Rissa knew was that something wasn't right, and no one else seemed to care. New Cincinnati was riddled with poverty, and a partial chemical molecule in her mind was only one part of the puzzle.
Slowly, she withdrew from the interface and released the grip on her vital organs. She wouldn't be able to solve this one in a few minutes. She needed to learn more, and the only person who could help was Sinclair. She pushed her body to sleep, daring to pray he believed her.
Chapter Fourteen
Walking through the breezeway of his apartment complex, Sin heard a child's laugh. He dodged the young boy, the kid's sister close on his heels, but she stopped when she saw the priest.
"Shoot anyone today, Brother Sin?" she asked excitedly.
"Not today," he told her with a laugh.
She sighed dramatically in the way only children could, and he tousled her hair as he walked past. Smiling at the other neighbors, and greeted cheerfully by all of them, he pressed his bare left hand to the security panel beside his address. A light flicked green and the thick metal door slid open. He stepped through, hung his helmet at the side, and began shedding layers before the door finished closing, glad to be back where he belonged.
The material of his armor was thick but pliable and formed to his skin. It also had a tendency to stick. Sin had a love-hate relationship with his gear. He loved his guns; he hated the armor. It hadn't saved his spine, and it definitely hadn't done much for his arm, but it had stopped a few bullets. He peeled away the last section and tossed the entire thing in the cleaning unit. His clothes came next, then he walked across the room, naked, pulling the elastic from his hair to let it fall to his shoulders again.
Putting on a clean pair of pants and a thin shirt, he glanced in the mirror. The ridges of his scar could be seen through the lightfabric, and he pulled his God's-eye necklace outside the cloth. Satisfied that he still looked like a priest, he left again.
The sun had set and rain had begun to fall gently, the digital glare of every sign reflecting in the puddles. Jogging across the street in hopes of staying somewhat dry, he aimed for the pink glowing sign over what served as his kitchen most nights, but everyone else called a bar. Nodding at the bouncer, he entered the Fallen Angel. They knew him here, and it was an easier way to find a decent meal than trying to cook it himself.
"Hey, Sin," the waitress said. "Usual?"
"Yeah, hun. That would be great." He made his way to the bar, sliding into an empty chair.
"You're in early," Tanya, the bartender, said.
"Looks like I'm on days for the next month or so," he said with a shrug. "How about a Coke?"
"Am I gonna convince you to spike it yet?" she teased.
Sin passed his hand through a small holographic sign sitting beside him, amused at how the light played on his skin. "Nope. Fifth precept. I'm still ordained."
She sighed and patted his arm—the good one. "You'd be a cute drunk."
"He's cute without the drunk," Miesa agreed, dropping a basket with a cheeseburger and fries before him. "I'm off at ten."
"Early morning for me," he told her with false regret, glancing over her body. She was modified, but minimally, and most of it was cosmetic. "Not gonna happen tonight, hun."
"Lemme guess, another precept?"
"A tired body," he told her. "I'm getting old."
The two women laughed, and Tanya reached across the counter to poke at his chest. "And still rock-hard. That's seriously all-natural?"
"Right from God. That's why you two like it."
