Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

CARLA

Ari’s treasure covered the table: necklaces, bracelets, arm bands, rings, ear cuffs, and even a tiara. Assorted other small items had been dumped on the surface, the original box discarded on the floor. The presentation was all very dramatic.

“Those were a gift,” Carla said, her voice steady and calm.

“Really? Is Lord Solivair aware?”

Tavat went to a sideboard and poured two drinks. He waved a hand toward the table, indicating that she should sit.

Carla accepted the glass of amber liquid, raising it to her lips, though she did not drink. “Lord Solivair knows my opinion of him and will understand my need for compensation.”

A brittle, rasping sound escaped Tavat. It took her a disturbingly long moment to realize that it was laughter. So unnerving, like an insect rubbing legs together.

Watching him, she realized what it was. His quills did not move. Poppy’s were expressive, broadcasting her mood to anyone who cared enough to look. Tavat’s remained still. Not even a twitch. It was flat and expressionless, like his eyes.

The laughter died abruptly. His face went blank.

He grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. “If you think to steal from me, reconsider,” he warned.

“I wouldn’t,” she said, stumbling over the words.

His tail moved lazily from side to side. “Is it not considered rude in your culture to not drink what your host gives you?”

Carla took a sip. The liquor had a strong, smoky flavor and knocked the breath out of her.

This demonstration mollified Tavat. He sat at the table. Servants arrived with their meal. While it was being served, Carla took the opportunity to study the room. The space was meant to impress with grand views and high vaulted ceilings. Lighted pedestals displayed twisting shapes of colored glass, presumably art pieces. Carla wasn’t an art expert, but she had an eye for expensive items, and those blobs of glass looked like expensive nonsense. Despite the natural stone and plants, the space was cold. Devoid of anything resembling comfort. Even the padding on the chairs was thin, making them uncomfortable.

Probably by design, she speculated.

“Where is Ari?” Carla asked once the meal had been served. It was some sort of sea creature, a giant bug with multiple claws by the looks of it, with a bright cerulean shell.

“Lord Solivair is occupied at the moment.” Tavat cracked the shell, separating the claw from the joint. Carla did her best not to flinch at the sound of snapping shells.

He missed an opportunity to say he’s tied up at the moment and do a villain laugh . Carla took a heavy silver instrument that resembled a nutcracker and did her best to crack open a claw. She’d do a villain laugh.

Instead, she said, “Did you know crabs evolved multiple times on Earth? It’s called crabification. Well, there’s a fancy term for it, not crabification. Essentially, evolution favors the crab.” She held up a claw to emphasize her point.

Tavat did not look intrigued. Shame. Ari would have been interested. Tavat looked bored, in fact, glancing down at a tablet.

“Tell me what your master hoped to gain by coming here,” he ordered, folding the tablet and putting it in a pocket.

Carla shrugged, doing her best not to react to the word master. “Ari doesn’t share his plans with me. If I had to guess, seeing as how he’s an art and antiques dealer, he wants to make a sale.”

“A sale,” Tavat repeated, sounding skeptical.

“He’s not that complicated.” She cracked into another claw. The meat was flavorless and not worth the effort, in her opinion. “That’s all I know. I’d tell you if he had some grand scheme. I’ve got no reason to keep the gargoyle’s secrets. I owe him no loyalty.”

Maybe she laid it on a bit thick, but Tavat seemed to be buying it.

“And what do you hope to gain from your visit here? Favor with your master?”

She forced a bland smile on her face. “I just want to keep Ari happy.”

“Or perhaps you wish to bargain for your former master? Such loyalty for Popilyn,” he said, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Yeah, he wasn’t buying any of what she was selling.

Kronkee entered the room and hustled to Tavat’s side. He whispered in his employer’s ear, his quills flexed up and down.

“Just handle it,” Tavat said, sounding annoyed.

Carla laid the claw cracker on the table. Using the cloth napkin, she wiped her fingers clean and hid the utensil with it. When Tavat’s attention returned to her, she said, “You have my friend. I want her back.”

“Friend. How charming.” Tavat leaned back in his chair. “It is too late to make a deal.”

It was never too late to make a deal. She said, “I know the access code to Ari’s ship and his vault. That stuff on the table? Junk. He’s got amazing stuff. One-of-a-kind works of art. Things that belong in a museum,” she said. For good measure, she added, “I think a few were stolen from museums.”

“I do not care for trinkets and baubles.”

Carla did an exaggerated turn in her chair, looking around the room filled with trophies. “If you say so.”

“You are not in a position to bargain.”

“Information then. I know a secret Ari wouldn’t want to get out.”

“His warrant? I know all about Lord Solivair’s family drama.”

Well, fuck. That was her best bargaining chip, and she blew it. She should have known when he used Ari’s title.

“Do not sulk,” Tavat said. “When I said you were not in a position to bargain, I meant that it was too late to save your friend.”

“Sister,” Carla muttered under her breath.

“Such disappointment. Perhaps a sweet treat to help ease the pain.” He pressed a button on the table and a hidden door in the stone opened.

A large figure stood in the doorway, partially hidden by shadows. Carla recognized her immediately.

Poppy.

Carla stood up, knocking her chair over in her haste.

Poppy lumbered forward, carrying a tray with two bowls of what looked like chocolate mousse. Her eyes were empty. Not cloudy like the zombie from the docks but the lights weren’t on either.

“What have you done?” Carla wanted to go to Poppy but remained still as she didn’t wear a repellent flower. The only flowers in the room were the table centerpiece and on Tavat’s lapel.

Her heart was breaking.

Too late, too late, too late.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Tavat asked. He took a bowl from the tray, immediately digging in a spoon. “It’s a new formulation. Hardly any visual side effects. Do sit.”

Carla righted her chair and sat back down while Poppy shambled over, holding out the tray. Carla took the offered bowl, disappointed to find there was no recognition in Poppy’s eyes. None.

“The fungus spreads at a slower rate, allowing the brain to function at a higher level.” Tavat left his seat, taking his mousse with him. “Complicated tasks are beyond her, I’m afraid, but she’s perfectly suited for lifting and carrying.”

He shoveled another spoonful into his mouth as he approached Poppy, who stood motionless and loomed over Carla. “You see, this strain is very clever. It infects the parts of the brain that control motor function but leaves the other bits intact. She’s unable to speak but her language processing center is processing. Long-term and short-term memory are functional.”

Carla listened with horror. What he described was torture, a hell that only ended when a fungus rooted its way deep enough into her mind. “She knows what’s happening?”

Tavat hummed in agreement, scraping out the last spoonful of mousse and sucking on the spoon. “Oh yes. Fully cognizant of her situation and utterly unable to do anything about it. Would you care to see a demonstration?”

“No.” She didn’t want to see. She wanted this nightmare over.

There had to be a way to reverse the process. It had stages, as Tavat said. Begging him for a cure would be a waste of breath, but there were smart people out there. Money solved a lot of problems, and Carla would happily throw all Ari’s money at this problem until Poppy was fungus -free.

She shoved those thoughts aside. She needed to focus on getting out of here alive. Finding a cure would come later.

“Another time,” Tavat said. He leaned against the table, setting the empty bowl down next to him. His tail came uncomfortably close to Carla’s personal space. Discreetly, she scooted back her chair.

“But why? She beat you at cards. This seems excessive.” Yes, she was well aware that she just signed her death certificate.

“You don’t know?” Tavat laughed, again that brittle sound like an insect rubbing legs together.

Or a spider pulling in prey.

“Dear Popilyn’s father had a terrible credit problem. He fancied himself skilled at business, but his only skill was pissing away perfectly good credits after bad ideas. Oh, how his mate pleaded with him to cease his foolish schemes. How his children cried in hunger.” Tavat crossed one leg over the other, sitting in a jaunty position as if retelling a favorite story. “I, being community -minded and unwilling to see a young family starve, loaned him credits with quite generous terms. When it was time to repay, he couldn’t. He was sent here to work off his debts.”

Carla watched Poppy as Tavat spoke. If she was listening and understanding, it was impossible to see on her face. When Tavat paused, she said, “You’re a loan shark.”

“What a colorful phrase. I’m in the business of making credits, not charity,” he said, his tone cold. “What satisfaction is there in seeing my credits be wasted? None. There’s no profit in a bad investment. I did what I had to do to recoup my losses. It seems someone holds a grudge. Isn’t that right?” His tone shifted from ice cold to affectionate, like talking to a dog, even reaching over to pat Poppy on the head.

Revenge.

That explained Poppy’s fixation on the man and why she wouldn’t back down, even when Carla pleaded. Anger at Poppy’s single mindedness replaced sorrow. She loved the determined and steadfast nature of her friend, but she became obsessive.

Tavat was another one of those obsessions. Whether Poppy wanted vengeance or some type of restitution, she’d never be able to say, and wasn’t that just peachy? Poppy got herself turned into a zombie.

“Her father did not last long in the workhouse,” Tavat said, returning to storyteller mode. “Another bad investment on my part. But fortune favored me by sending his spawn my way. Popilyn is going to work off her father’s debt, every last credit, until her brain is nothing but algae and mush. Now, a demonstration.”

Tavat picked up the bowl and swung it at Poppy’s head. The glass shattered but she remained still. A thin trickle of blood at her temple rolled down her face, tinting her red scales a deeper scarlet.

He then took out a small rectangular device from a pocket. “Clean up that mess,” he ordered, pressing a button.

Poppy obeyed, moving slowly as she bent over to pick up the shards.

“How… how are you controlling her?” Carla asked. Things were looking grim all right, but she must be some sort of dumbass optimist; if she knew how this abomination worked, then she could fix it. Somehow.

“A remote-activated implant. It should be operational as long as the brain matter is healthy. Once it’s not…” Tavat’s quills went up and down, finally displaying a genuine emotion: a disgusting joy about rotten, fungus-riddled brains. “She’ll join the others in the island horde. Have you finished your dessert?”

Carla didn’t register that he asked her a question until he repeated it. “No. I mean, yes. I’m done.” The thought of eating anything churned her stomach.

“Then I suggest you run.”