Heart of Steel (21 page)

she understands how important it is that they stay together. She isn’t
allowed
to break up with him.

He isn’t worried about the addict, really—these assholes are a dime a dozen, and he won’t be missed.

Jim grabs a fire extinguisher as he follows the addict through the hospital corridors. He doesn’t know the man’s name—never cared to learn it, really. Jim points out Julia, keeping the extinguisher out of sight, and then sits back and enjoys the show, just waiting for his cue...

Mechanus watched the memory play out, attempting to remain dispassionate but only partially succeeding as the events unfolded to their brutal conclusion. He wasn’t even sure if he should show this to Julia, even though it directly concerned her. It was a cowardly thought, though—she would need to see it, but on her own time.

The memory finished, and Mechanus regarded the broken remnants of Jim. The limbless torso twitched, just once.

Mechanus pronounced finally.

And without waiting for any sort of a reply, he stopped Jim’s heart with a thought.

Chapter

SIXTEEN

When the dire wolves showed up, Julia had been expecting wolves the size of bears, not
full-sized vans
. They flooded towards her in a tidal wave of fur and fangs and rippling muscle, surrounding her before she could get it into her head to run rather than freeze up.

The biggest of the group headed for her, his golden eyes gleaming with predatory intelligence, but to her relief it didn’t seem inclined to tear her apart or whatever it was wolves did with prey. Instead, it lowered its head, tail wagging, and nudged her with its nose.

“Hello,” she said hopefully, but it came out as a whisper. It seemed friendly enough, but it was still a giant wolf.

The wolf glanced in the direction of combat and let out a low growl. Julia followed its gaze, craning

her neck to see past the machinery, and caught a glimpse of Alistair and Jim facing off. She bit her lip anxiously. She didn’t want Alistair getting killed, but she didn’t know what she could do to help. The wolf nudged her again, and when she turned it let out a low
whuff
and crouched down.

If she didn’t know better, Julia might think the giant wolf wanted her to climb on its back. It
would
be more comfortable than doing the hot-sand dance on the metal grating.

“Okay,” she said to the wolf. “I haven’t been horseback riding in a while, so bear with me.”

It licked her hand encouragingly, and she grabbed a double handful of thick fur on the ruff on its neck and heaved herself onto its back. The muscles under its pelt rippled smoothly as it stood up and padded away from the fight, surrounded by its pack.

It came to a halt at the far end of the cluster of tanks. The sounds of combat had ceased by now, replaced by a tense, watchful silence. Julia bit her lip, both curious to see who won and desperately afraid that she would see Alistair broken and dying with Jim standing over him.

“Julia, don’t look,” Mechanus said from a nearby speaker. Julia didn’t think she had a line of sight on the battle anyway, but she resolutely looked away from where she’d heard combat. Whatever was about to happen was going to be gruesome, even by the standards of a mad scientist. Her stomach twisted.

Please, please let Alistair be okay
, she thought.

That silence was the eeriest part. During the previous fight between Alistair and Jim she’d heard at least sounds of violence—the lightning gun going off, meaty impacts, and the like—right up until she’d opened the door. Now, aside from the insectile whirr

of the drones’ rotors and the odd meaty slice, she didn’t hear much of anything over the steady bass hum of the refinery equipment. Now there was only the low hum, and the horrible anticipation. She was sure that one of them was going to come and find her. She earnestly hoped it would be Alistair. She lay down along the dire wolf’s back, hugging its flanks like it was the biggest, meanest teddy bear in the world. Its breath came in huge, heavy pants, and while it seemed relaxed, its ears were forward and alert.

CLANK.

The sound of metal on metal made her jump and the dire wolves tense. Sure she was surrounded by dire wolves that seemed determined to protect her… but if Jim came out on top, how much help would they be?

CLANK.

CLANK.

CLANK.

She realized that she was hearing the steps of metal feet approaching. They were slow, deliberate, and purposeful. She had no weapons, no protection if it was Jim—hell, she had to wiggle out of her shirt to get away from him—and so all she could do was wait and see. And hope.

Suddenly, the dire wolf raised his head, ears forward, and gave a happy bark.

“Julia?” she heard a familiar metallic baritone call, not far ahead of her. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Alistair?” she called back, sliding off the dire wolf’s back and hurrying forward, limping slightly from the bruises Jim had left on her leg.

In seconds she saw him emerge from around one of the huge metal tanks—tired, haggard, and splat-

tered with blood, but overall triumphant. He saw her at about the same time, and she rushed forward, flinging her arms around his neck as he folded her into an embrace.

Their lips collided like protons in a particle accelerator, and for a while the rest of the world just faded into the background. He held her close, his sleeveless right arm warm against her mostly-bare back, while he twined metal fingers through her hair. She cradled the mismatched sides of his face between her hands, feeling the seams and rivets and access plugs under the fingers of her right hand—though by now the metal didn’t even matter to her—as she savored the salty taste of his mouth against hers.

As the chemical reaction eased in intensity, so too did the intensity of their embrace. Even as time seemed to stop, he took his time with her, exploring her mouth with the careful thoroughness of a scientist. He brushed his lips gently across hers, savoring her like a fine wine, in sips rather than swallows.

She brushed the pad of her thumb down the scar at the front of his throat, and he shivered, letting out a slow, shaking breath against her lips.

“Be careful what you start,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips lightly over her bruised cheek. “Certain chemical reactions are difficult to stop once triggered, and I think we have a bit of an audience.”

She froze and opened her eyes, to find that, indeed, a dozen flying drones the size of hummingbirds seemed to be watching the proceedings with great interest.

She giggled helplessly at the whole situation, but she didn’t pull away just yet, leaning her forehead against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked at length.

She nodded. “I think so, yeah,” she said. “Nothing broken, anyway. He just…” She reached up to touch her face where she was sure Jim had punched her and winced. Sure enough, her lip and cheek were swollen.

“You won’t have to worry about him anymore,” Alistair informed her grimly.

“He’s… is he dead?”

“Yes.” He pronounced the word with a profound certain finality.

“Thank God. I’m… I know I shouldn’t be this happy about that but… I’m just so relieved he’s finally gone.” She pulled away slightly and looked him over. “You’re covered in blood—are you okay?”

“It’s not mine,” he informed her, and offered her a weary smile.

She felt a slight chill as she imagined what could have caused the blood spatter, but decided she didn’t want to know. Instead of asking about it, she just hugged him, leaning her head against his chest and listening to the
thrum-thrum-thrum
that he had in place of a heartbeat as he cradled her close. It was over—almost.

“And now,” he said after maybe fifteen seconds had passed, “I believe I still owe you dinner.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Dinner?”

He grimaced. “Yes. Well. I did tell you I’d made plans for this evening.” He gestured vaguely. “But then everything happened, and…” He trailed off.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’d love to have dinner with you… just not tonight. I’m beat.”

He digested this, and then nodded. “Yes, of course—after what happened and all… you’ll want to relax tonight, I expect.” He sighed. “And I need to

attend to a bit of cleanup.” His gaze grew distant as he checked an internal map. “I have a room near here where you may sleep. I will take you there directly.”

With that, he swept her up into his arms in a bridal carry, startling a squeak of surprise from her. She reflexively clasped her hands around his neck as he settled her comfortably in his grasp—or as comfortably as could be managed with a metal arm digging into her back.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a bit breathlessly.

“I know your feet hurt,” he replied. “Just relax for a bit.”

This was true—her feet hurt, her face hurt, her bruised thigh hurt—everything hurt. She was tired and achy and wanted to sleep. She was sure that he was tired as well, but he was clearly determined to attend to her first. Even after being here for almost a week, the idea of letting someone take care of her was still strange to her. She tried to make herself relax, all the same, and rested her head against his shoulder. He smelled of sweat, metal, and disinfectant—a strangely comforting combination.

She closed her eyes and dozed off.

***

Mechanus was exhausted from the day’s events, but he was not going to neglect Julia, who had been through so much more than he had, and deserved her rest. He flagged down a passing flying drone for assistance, and it followed him to the spare room and pulled back the blankets and sheet. Its mechanical whirring made a sort of mechanical lullaby as Mech-

anus carefully placed Julia in bed. He hesitated, uncertain how comfortable she would be sleeping in a bra and pants.

He could always remove them, so she would be more comfortable—

...No. That would not do at all. He remembered all too well how upset she’d been the last time she unexpectedly woke up nude, and he wasn’t going to do that to her again.

Instead, he reached down and smoothed down her tangled hair with one hand, and pulled the blankets up over her. She shifted, moving from a supine position to half-curled on her side, and let out a soft sigh as she snuggled into the pillow. He watched her sleep for several long minutes, and then tore himself away at last, turning and leaving the room.

He had so much to do, after all.

he said.

Mechanus’s gait slowed.

Arthur replied.

Mechanus sighed.

He listened as Arthur listed off how many assets had been lost in Jim’s rampage. To Arthur, they were numbers, creations to be rebuilt or replaced, but Mechanus had become familiar with each and every one of them—and when Julia started naming his ro-

bots… well, it reminded him of how precious they were as well.

In total, a dozen chimeras had died, despite Mechanus’s instructions—though he was sure many of them had been in the wrong place at the wrong time before the briefing—and three dozen robots of various shapes and functions had been destroyed, but the crucial functions had been largely preserved. Jim hadn’t gotten to the items specifically earmarked for his global conquest project. It could have been a lot worse.

He sighed. he asked.

He rubbed his eye, and he got another flash of Lauren, as vivid as though he’d just seen her the previous day. His throat closed, and he leaned against the wall.

Arthur queried.

Mechanus took a deep breath. he admitted. He straightened up from the wall and continued walking, aiming for the nearest infirmary.

Arthur hesitated.

Mechanus reached the infirmary and walked in, settling himself in a chair. Several surgical appendages started peeling away the bandage on his upper arm. Julia’s sutures were tidy and regular, and

did the job just fine… but his own methods would seal the gash more efficiently and leave no scar.

Arthur added helpfully.

Mechanus sighed, idly watching the sutures being removed. Bullet points appeared on a nearby monitor with each item. Blood welled up and was delicately dabbed away.

He felt the pain cancellation function activate as the gash was cleaned and trimmed of ragged flesh.

Arthur’s voice was patient and, in its own way, comforting.