Hekate's Call, Chapter 34

There was something comforting about the changes Velia had been making. It felt like progress. After years of stagnation followed by a massive upheaval, things settling into a new normal felt more like progress than anything Krystyn could think of. Even if not everything was progressing in ways she was particularly comfortable with.

Manya had been nice about the collar. There was some light teasing about it, of course. But she seemed genuinely happy for her. Things between them felt closer to how they'd been before everything shifted after Hekate brought on fresh blood. Pleasant. Reminded her of life in the military, except better.

"Hey, Chaser," Manya teased as she slid into the bedroom.

Velia had all the paperwork sorted out for the license update when they'd docked to sort out Vigil's new license. A change to a callsign was uncommon for soldiers, but for mercenaries it was next to unheard of. Manya would never change hers. You would see Illustrious in a scan and panic. You would know her battle record by it. When someone said it at the bar, everyone would tell their horror stories. And with her stellar reputation, nobody would think to try to copy it or they'd be run out of any guild or company for having the audacity.

Chaser.

Velia had a disgusting sense of humor. She was a vulgar woman at heart, no matter what Ilina thought of her. With a callsign like that Krystyn was going get it from all sides too. Especially when they get back to Central Domon.

It wasn't until after she'd filed the change that she remembered their final destination. Errant HQ in Central Domon. At some point when they got closer she was going to have to have a talk with those women about how to conduct themselves there. Morian already knew she was perpetually wanted on every world in the imperium, no matter how much time passed. But Ilina and Velia especially needed to be given a heads up.

That was a long ways away, though. Lots of work between now and then to figure out how she would approach it.

Manya wasn't wearing her flightsuit or her fabric hardsuit. Which meant that when she told Krystyn that she was wanted for the start of the first live combat test of the new A Scandal In Heaven, it was going to be just the two of them. Krystyn and Vigil.

Krystyn got up and moved to the locker room and got changed. She had to take off the dog collar to put on the pilot's collar to bridge her neural hook to the Inertia. She kept it tucked into a pocket on the inside of her jacket, which she always took into the Inertia even if it was too hot to wear it in combat.

Ilina was already waiting in the hanger. She could sense where Ilina was at all times, direction and distance, while wearing the dog collar. It was genuinely comforting. Ilina didn't get the same feedback that Krystyn did and whether that was intentional or just a byproduct of a way the collar interacted with her neural hook, it was all fine for her. She didn't need the little stalker knowing her exact position at all times, and being able to summon Krystyn from anywhere on the Gestalt was probably good enough for the freak.

All the pilots were waiting out on the pier along with their commander, who was dressed up just for Ilina. Velia didn't like it when the mechanics saw the outfit as it 'caused a divide' as she put it. There seemed to be an argument which halted the moment that Krystyn approached. Everyone looked at her and stared for a moment.

Manya turned to Ilina. "We've all seen the sims, Vigil doesn't stand a chance. Why are you so adamant she's going to lose?"

Ilina sat dangerously on the railing, legs hooked loosely. That dangerous, fanged grin plastered all over her face. Before she could retort though, Velia did a little clap and beamed at all of them. "Why don't we make this a wager, since everyone has such strong opinions?"

Krystyn had seen the specs and fought with and beside the new Scandal. This wasn't even a challenge. Unlike the Inertia that didn't need parts, or the Again in Hell or the Work From Home that needed expensive, specialty parts on a pay-to-print licensing fee – when they could be fabricated at all and not specialty forged like their weapons had to be – the new Scandal was an inexpensive frame. Compatible with just about every part under the sun, on cheap licenses that you would already own have if your company fielded just about any frame, and quick to repair. A bit more sturdy than the first Scandal, but much more flexible.

The thing had a heavy rifle and a standard melee weapon. It wouldn't be able to leave a dent in the Inertia no matter how good of a pilot Vigil was. The flexibility gave it a lot of ability to shift its role around, but at the end of the day it was little more than front-line fodder.

"I'm in," Krystyn said before she caught Vigil's eye. There was something on the dog's face that sent a shiver down her spine. Malice.

After everyone agreed, Velia set the terms. "Well, I don't think it's fair that you two have no skin in the game," she grinned at Ilina and Manya in turn. "Let's fix that, at the very least. If Krystyn wins the duel, Ilina will be free use for a week. Likewise, if Vigil wins, Manya gets the same treatment."

There was a sudden waver in Manya's voice, "Hey, sis, hold on..."

"But you sounded so confident a moment ago," Velia tilted her head, just a little. Ignoring whatever sis meant in this context. "You were just talking about how you were the only one who could top the Inertia at this point, weren't you?"

The overconfident devil chewed the tip of her thumb, glancing at Krystyn for just a moment. Was there something to actually worry about going on?

"Doesn't that only incentivize me to lose?" Vigil asked abruptly. "I mean, if I lose then I'll finally get my shot with Ilina, right?" Ilina let out some nervous laugh as Vigil draped an arm around her. "You keep ducking me. Always some excuse or another. I'm getting a bit impatient, little girl."

Krystyn could see the shiver from those last two words wash over her. Vigil's newfound confidence in herself was astounding on its own. She was learning so quickly how to be a menace in so many ways. But so far that growth hadn't been seen in her piloting.

"Always the popular one," Velia shook her head with a dark laugh. "Alright. Symeon, what would you like if you win? Or do you just want Ilina to yourself?"

"Nah," Vigil stood up straight and rolled her shoulders. "If I win... I want a weekly group activity. I have some ideas what you all get up to, but I'm lonely. I'd like for us all to get to spend some time together like normal people."

Velia nodded. "Krystyn, anything you want if you win?"

There wasn't really anything she wanted. She could ask to keep Ilina for herself, but that would go against the wager between Ilina and Manya. So what did that leave her? "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. If you win, you can tell me what you want and I'll make it happen," she said with sincerity, before finishing with a vile tone dripping with company line, "Anything to motivate my pilots to grow to be the best they can be."

They were still docked at the station that handled the licensing, so Hekate had rented out a training field at a discount to test their new machine. There was a bit of confusion from the offices when they wanted to name the new machine A Scandal In Heaven. Velia explained that it was some kind of anti-piracy measure. The clone-pilots wouldn't operate without a license or in a machine with the incorrect name. It allowed their manufacturer to track them via license registrations, and collect data about their performance. Complicated and fucked up.

Krystyn was still adapting to thinking about Vigil as a real person. She just seemed so much more alive than she'd ever been. She was clever and funny, and the way she made Ilina melt felt like someone putting a finger in an open wound. Krystyn could push Manya around as much as she wanted, but would Vigil just back down if told to? She knew from experience that she couldn't match the dog in a fistfight.

The transport was quiet. Some kind of rail system inside the massive training and testing station that led from the docks to the training field. Cityscape combat field. Krystyn once wondered why so many of the combat fields were set in destroyed or partially destroyed cities until she was reminded that most activity for military line machines was defending or attacking cities or bases.

Finally at the training sight, the Inertia moved to where it was directed.

Control. Hound, mark.

Hound. Set.

Control. Chaser, mark.

"Set."

Control. Mark set. All pilots in position. Begin exercise.

The buildings were tall enough that they acted for good cover for the Inertia. A light crouch to keep her head under the skyline and she didn't lose much speed moving around. This should be an easy exercise.

Hound. Chaser, huh? I always thought you had a thing for Ilina.

Seriously? She was already getting shit from the dog of all people? "You're gonna get docked points if you keep running your mouth on the public radio, dog."

The points don't matter to me. Does the commander only give you treats when you score well?

A shadow moved across her vision. It was quicker than she expected. She pulled up the map in the back of her mind and plotted the course. There was a wider area thicker with lower buildings in the direction it was headed. She wanted a firefight in a place that it would be harder for the Inertia to close in. She needed to get there first. The Inertia held itself low and started in that direction fast.

Oh, did something happen between you and Ilina? She's really either excited to fuck anyone else but you, or she genuinely thinks you're gonna go down like a sack of potatoes. That's gotta sting.

"You were never this chatty before," she groaned.

Hound laughed, nearly peaking the microphone. At least I'm not leaning into the disgusting bedroom talk like you usually do. Also, watch your step there.

Heavy rifle fire from the side. The new Scandal's rifle was a hefty thing that fired belt-fed autocannon rounds. It was the kind of rifle you'd see mounted to the Work From Home if Manya wanted to engage in firefights instead of hit-and-run coward tactics. She'd fired from the Inertia's right-side because it took a moment for Chaser – that callsign was going to take time to accept – to shift the shield to that side. A few heavy impacts before the shield started taking all the damage.

After the Inertia had braced itself against the barrage, Chaser started to push forwards towards them. After the second step there was a high pitched noise and then a grenade went off under the Inerta's foot.

Told you to watch your step.

Chaser took a deep breath in her cockpit and reinforced her shield. There was lots of little metal bits around to absorb as she started repairing the damage foot. The loop was spinning up from all the fire she'd taken. Of course Hound had never been so chatty before. Hound did what was needed to win.

"Is this part of one of Ilina's little playbooks? Taunt me into making mistakes?"

She hit a few switches and shuffled some system power around. Tweaked some of the background processes. Lighten the load on the Inertia's brain so she could get some tighter control of the ferrofluid. No more mistakes. She'd already made one, and that was more than enough. The dog couldn't hurt her if she was actually performing properly. No need to rush things.

I asked her to read over my playbook, actually. Hound sounded proud of herself. You should have heard her cackling when she read it. Said she couldn't wait to watch you squirm.

So there was a reason those two were so smugly confident. And why Hound felt they had so much time to talk shit. It wouldn't matter soon. The loop was almost spinning at capacity and the Inertia was happily eating everything in the area as it took step after step towards the new Scandal. It kept creating distance between them. Dancing just outside the range of the retort loop.

Speaking of her, Hound continued. She could hear that bestial snarl over the radio. How does it work with you two? Does she lick your boots while you eat out of your dog bowl?

It was bait. Hound couldn't sit back forever while the Inertia built its barrier. This was a losing tactic for the mutt, so that's why it made sense to drag it out. "I don't think she's that kind of bootlicker, you know?"

Could have fooled me. Wait, what did that mean? I think she keeps avoiding me because she's too embarrassed about the mess she made on mine after cleaning them.

Bait. She wants you to move. She wants to pull you out of the shield you're making where she can shoot you. Stick to the plan. Hound has to come to you if she wants to win.

I get why everyone's so wild about her, though. She looks so good on her knees. And those noises she made too. Maybe I really should let you win, just so I can have a go at her myself.

The Problem With Inertia was a tall, horrifically lanky skeletal thing, that only looked like a reasonable frame by any means when weighed down with heavy ferrofluid armor covering all its exposed bone like muscle and skin. When Chaser threw it into high gear, it could match even the WFH in a sprint.

It wasn't the words that hit something in the back of her head wrong and caused her to lose basic situational awareness and judgement. It was Hound's shuddering, panting voice and the way it all pitched upward as the dog dipped into fantasy at the end. Disgusting. Don't. Don't talk about her like that. Like all those women standing on the pier above watching the fresh meat be led around on the hanger floor, picking out their next mentees. That collective, dark giggle as they planned exactly what to do to the poor things.

Luckily even at her most brainless, Chaser could pilot the Inertia at a level above most pilots. Her barrier was large enough she could form at rolling shield in front of her, charging behind it with a weapon ready. The magnetic radar alerted her when an object appeared in front of her suddenly. The ferrofluid crashed against it like a wave against the rocks, and the Inertia vaulted over it. The Scandal was making space between them, probably expecting to buy more time with the deployable cover.

But what really got me was the way she shirks away when I was standing over her.

The Inertia's arm raised. The dog knew what was about to happen, but there wasn't much space to maneuver on the street and a glancing blow would be enough to let her bear down on it. The retort loop surged as the barrage hit.

Volleys of missiles from above. Small rockets that wouldn't make the Inertia flinch if the entirety of the barrier wasn't still digesting the deployable cover and oozing over to the main body. From behind and above fired two turrets, bolted high on the buildings. Dinky little things that she wouldn't have noticed if she had any of her barrier up. Between the rattling of both, the retort loop fired off-angle and the Scandal deftly sidestepped as it turned to bear down with its own heavy rifle.

She's not scared stiff, you know? When her instincts are screaming run and she's actively fighting it. Eyes like a cornered animal with a death drive.

Gods below, shut the fuck up. The barrage hit the Inertia hard, and even when she was braced for impact it was shaking the inside of the cockpit like little else. Black blood oozed out from the wounds and began to devour what was left of the shells. The large mass barrier pooled around her and engulfed her, repairing all the damage in waves. Big cracks in the armor first, and then internal systems in priority. Chaser backgrounded the process.

The mutt was getting on her last nerve and it knew exactly what it was doing. But if that routine was going to be the whole plan, then Hound was still dead in the water. It couldn't put down the Inertia, but those tactics showed it was trying to put down Chaser instead. She just needed to keep the barrier close and every little trick the dog could copy from others would fail one after another.

I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I don't feel human when I see those eyes. I don't know what that feeling is. Hey, are you almost patched up in there? Can we keep going? I need to stop thinking about this.

Chaser hit the radio. She was almost finished repairing. "Who's our designated therapist? Kyrnn? Why don't you go talk to her about these feelings?"

I'm scared of her. She keeps telling me to feel them and think about them. I kinda miss when I was able to forget those kinds of thoughts... Do you think the new commander would let me forget?

As the barrier shifted out of the way just enough, she could see the new Scandal standing much closer than it should have been. She barely had a chance to wonder why Hound would approach when it had the range advantage before slews of error messages started filling half of her vision. Overheat. Connection loss. Overheat. Connection failure. Overheat. System shutdown. The error messages screamed in Chaser's head over and over again. She cut half the mass of the barrier lose and let it slough to the ground in a glowing red pile of near-molten metal.

Fuck.

A Scandal In Heaven had a lighter rifle in place of the heavy rifle. No. It was a pulsed energy rifle. A lasgun. Shorter range than physical munitions, but the mutt knew exactly what it was doing. Before Chaser could shift to close the distance another barrage of rockets and turrets started bombarding her. The Inertia moved onto a side street while she attempted to figure out some kind of solution.

The Problem with Inertia was nearly unkillable in function. Lasguns were so uncommon back on FN-4-06, that she'd managed to hide its one real weakness with ease. Heat affected both the ferrofluid's magnetic properties as well as its conductive properties, and past certain temperatures it would cease functioning turning into a toxic puddle of metal slurry.

The Inertia's reactor was actively cooled since it needed to put out so much energy to create and control all the ferrofluid, as well as several of the other tricks the Inertia had going for it. The ferrofluid itself though? That was passively cooled. The heat ripped through the whole system. The ferrofluid carried the heat as it circulated, and the heat spread evenly through through the ferrofluid. Most of the fluid loop would be roughly the same temperature, which usually made the outer barrier a very good heatsink.

The cockpit's air conditioning was still working, thankfully. But it was straining itself and Chaser was sweating into her eyes. That was just from a few seconds of having it trained on her. She couldn't take any more extended hits like that.

There was a sickening panting over the radio. It was way worse than before. Gods below. She showed her back to the fucking dog. That was bad. That was going to be really bad. It was simple and straightforward. If the thing saw you running, it would run you down. Like a good hunting hound, corralling you into the kill zone.

I don't think I feel like you do. Or like Manya does.

Why wouldn't this mutt shut the fuck up? Why did it just keep talking? She wanted to turn off her radio but that felt like some kind of suicide on its own. Like she would miss something vital the second she turned it off.

I want her to teach me how to dance. I want to hold her close and hear her breathe. I want to feel her wrists snap in my hands. I want to see how far her limbs bend before they break. I want to cut into her. I want to know what her blood smells like. I want to slip my fingers into the wound.

Bullets weaved through the buildings. Hound was routing through them, giving itself the slightest openings to put bullets from the heavy rifle into the Inertia. There was no running away from this thing. And it just. Wouldn't. Shut. Up. It's voice was desperate and afraid and frantic. Some fucking spiral of fucked up desire.

The loop was charged. She'd restored some of her barrier. She'd managed to lower the temperature of the ferrofluid a little bit. It was as good as the situation was going to get. She had to put the dog down now.

That's not normal, right? I've seen the way you look at her. You don't think about her like that, do you?

The Inertia pushed the entire mass of its barrier ahead in a rolling shield, barely tethered to the rest of the Inertia to maintain a finer control as she rushed down the street she would meet the Scandal on. It rounded the corner and raised the lasgun and poured into the barrier. That heat wouldn't make it back to the main Inertia, but so the rolling barrier was buying her time. There was a trick to how to circulate the fluid under the exterior layer to keep the heat from spreading as quickly.

When the barrier failed and couldn't move, the Inertia shouldered around it and brought an arm up, level at the Scandal at short range. There was no way even the dog could dodge the loop at the range. As she was letting it fire, Chaser saw the melee weapon in the Scandal's hand. A large, one-handed axe. Held in a way to conceal it during the Inertia's approach. But now that they were close it was out with a flourish. The blade went from black to white in an instant.

The mass of ferrofluid that ejected from the Inertia's had was sliced horizontally, parried, by the Scandal. That would have been fine, since any blow from the fully charged retort loop would have crushed a machine anyways. No. Something was wrong. There was a white flash that scrambled the visual sensors for a second. The ferrofluid was burning a too-bright white flame, spreading rapidly across its surface all the way back to the Inertia. She cut the fluid off before the flame reached her and took a step back.

The Scandal's chassis opened in several locations and steam billowed out. Fuck. Fuck. It was in a cooling cycle. She had to act now. She had enough blood to make a spear and sprinted to close the distance again.

The steam obscured the moment when the middle of the chassis opened, took away a fraction of a second to react to the red hot cooling rod being launched directly at her. It glanced off the Inertia's shoulder but ignited on contact like one of the Parting Word's depleted uranium shells. It threw her balance for just a second, but that was probably longer than Hound needed. It was already closing in under the cover of the steam. It was over.

The axe severed an arm at the shoulder while the lasgun cut off the opposite leg like a cutting torch. Every system inside the Inertia had failed and the screens went dark. The red emergency lighting was flickering under the heat.

I want to be like the rest of you. I want to be normal too. I don't want to hurt her. But it would feel so good. I know it.

"Call," Krystyn punched her failing radio console. The light flickered off in the middle of a cacophony of metal crunching and tearing. The Inertia was on its back and the cockpit was a god damn oven. "I surrender!"

No response. The radio was fucking dead. The dog was still kicking the Inertia around, making it so dangerous for her to take her harness off. The explosive bolts to remove the cockpit hatch in an emergency failed too. Heat probably welded the thing in place. This was bad. The air was searing her lungs. Scream after scream ignored. Unheard. Despite the situation, Krystyn put her head back against the seat's headrest and let out a painful breath.

Procedure. She put on her helmet and sealed the hardsuit. It would lessen any burns she would get and spare her throat and lungs from the air a bit. She didn't have an oxygen supply hooked up. With how hot the inside could get, she didn't want to risk a tank rupture. The Inertia's flares were mechanical and could work without any of the system's power. She reached up above her and pulled a panel open, and turned, pulled and pushed three plungers in sequence to hopefully fire the emergency flares to signal an SOS. Under her seat was an electronic beacon with a separate power supply. Krystyn's gloved fingers struggled to wrench open the small panel and flip the heavy tactile switch on it. Once she slid it back under her seat she braced herself with her hands behind her head and waited.

The sounds outside the cockpit changed. Krystyn hit the noise filter on her helmet so the sound of wrenching steel didn't drive her mad. It wasn't the first time she needed to be carved out of a wreck. Very few pilots had the special honor of being shot down and surviving, and even fewer among them had been shot down as many times as Krystyn had been. Even training exercises could never prepare most to deal with the real thing. The rescue – assuming your forces survived and bothered to mount a rescue – was the most terrifying part.

The cockpit hatch bowed inward while the Scandal got a grip under the lip to pry it away. Terrifyingly close to Krystyn's feet. Too close for any machine to the flesh core of any mech. The pressure differential caused a sudden sucking noise as all the hot air rushed to escape. Krystyn just sat still and waited. Every pilot wanted to jump out the moment there was enough space, it was claustrophobic and terrifying like those trash compactor scenes in movies with the walls closing in. Every pilot had seen the red leaking from a crushed cockpit too.

No. Just wait for the signal that it's okay to move. Panicking was what got people dead.

A few moments after the hatch had been completely removed a fully-suited Vigil appeared in the new skylight. That was when Krystyn undid her harness and started the awkward climb out of the corpse of the Inertia. She was dizzy from the heat, but Vigil steadied her and got her to the Scandal. A tight fit, but it was nice and cool inside.

It was a whirlwind of activity the moment she stepped foot on the Gestalt. According to a passing Dr. Kyrnn, her body temperature hadn't raised to dangerous levels, so she wasn't in any danger from that. Her vitals overall reported that she did an excellent job getting knocked around the cockpit without putting herself in danger. For some reason the little pat on the head and a Good Job from the doctor made her cheeks flush just a bit.

The doctor dragged Vigil away immediately to the medbay and promptly marked it closed. A private chat or therapy or something. Whatever it was, the dog sure as hell needed it because Krystyn wasn't about to let that fucking thing near Ilina ever again.

Velia grabbed her by the wrist the moment she'd hit the pier and started dragging her off towards Ilina's room. There was something strange about her energy. Urgent and frantic, and a bit too unbefitting her uniform.

Once they were inside the first word out of Velia's mouth was, "Strip." Followed by, "Take a cold shower, I'll have Ilina get your hardsuit cleaned and bring you some clothes."

The woman hid a blush behind one of her gloved hands and pulled her cap down just a bit with the other. Those eyes of hers didn't stray from the puddles of sweat dropping off Krystyn's skin as she opened and peeled off the hardsuit. Those hideous panting breathes felt like a poor imitation of Ilina's cute behavior.

"Freak."

"I don't think I've ever hidden my appreciation for your body, have I?" Velia let out something between a moan and an embarrassed laugh. "That isn't what this is about, though it is a nice bonus. Hurry up."

Krystyn hurried, but not because she was told too. She still felt like she was overheating and the shower would do her good. And the faster she got into the shower the sooner Velia wouldn't be able to leer at her. And the cold water felt like a blessing. Like knifes falling on her skin, but once the initial pain had passed she was left with just the good.

After she'd exited the shower and dried off in a towel, as promised, Velia had arranged some of Krystyn's clothes in a neat pile. She was wary of any tricks, but there was none. Even her jacket was folded neatly with the rest, and the dog collar was still tucked in the pocket. Krystyn put that on first, before even her underwear. Mostly because she wanted advance warning if the little pervert would be waiting in the room with Velia. She wasn't.

Ilina was pacing the hallway outside the room. Velia had probably asked her to stay out, but she had nowhere else to go seemingly. Morian occupied, no idea where Manya was. Maybe Krystyn needed to get the girl's code registered for her room. Wait, no, then she could visit Manya whenever. Scratch that idea.

Out in the main room, Velia had dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and motioned for Krystyn to sit there. Velia had changed back into her regular clothes, hiding the uniform somewhere. Trying to shift the tone of their interaction, probably.

"Give me your hands," she said as she pulled clippers and a file out of a little bag. "I'll have Manya show you how to take care of your nails later, but I'll do it now since I wanted to talk to you."

Talk. Right. Krystyn had some things she wanted to say too. "What the fuck is wrong with Vigil?"

Velia nodded as she took one of Krystyn's hands and got to work on the ends. There was still chipping paint on them, but one task at a time. "I have seen her medical records and discussions with Dr. Kyrnn. Her... inclinations have been a known entity since before any of us joined."

That didn't answer the question. Velia was one with both hands before Krystyn could muster another question. But Velia was in a talkative mood today. "Ilina has been warned to avoid being alone with Symeon in private. It's part of why I gave you the collar, so you can be there for her if she needs you." A pause, and an almost nervous chuckle. "How are things going between you two, by the way?"

Well. She got her ass kicked for one. Besides that, Ilina had taken to just calling her places just to see Krystyn react. Annoying, but cute. Like she was coming to terms with the fact that Krystyn actually meant what she had said, despite fucking up how she went about showing it.

"I see," Velia hummed. She'd started on stripping the polish from the nails. Krystyn hated doing that, it always dried out the skin around the nails and the fumes always got to her. "I guess I should find a way to apologize to her for my misunderstanding."

Velia felt different. It was something subtle. She'd started to massage some kind of hand cream into Krystyn's hands after trimming her nails and stripping the paint from them. Filed them down.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"We'll be docked for a few more days," her voice was soft and a little distant as she worked the cream into every little fold so slowly. Not different enough in the hazy tone Ilina had in her voice when she was working on boots or weapons. "I think you and Ilina should go out and get your hair fixed up like we discussed. There's a little shopping arcade too, maybe try to find her something cute."

Krystyn snorted. "Right, so I have to wear this stupid collar out in public where everyone can see it?"

"I never said you have to wear it. I said that you'd get to spent more time with Ilina if you do, which you've gotten plenty of so far. And I'm giving you more because you've earned a reward. Even if you lost." Velia looked up and smiled tenderly. More things that made Krystyn's stomach churn. "I asked you to show me that you wanted to do better, and that you'd follow orders. You've done both so far. And Ilina is very good for you, just like I knew she would be."

Velia held Krystyn's hands, staring at them. Less wholesomely than she'd been while speaking. Krystyn pulled them away when it was clear she was done with them.

"You know, I didn't realize it back then. But Ilina adores all those little routines. Protocols and rules to follow." Velia leaned back on the bed and spread out, smiling at the ceiling. "I spent months convinced I was wearing her down bit by bit, that it was a slow grind to getting her under control. I bet she'd really like it if she could share the skincare routine I taught her with you."

"What the fuck is your plan with all of this?" Krystyn stood up and grabbed her jacket, sliding it on. She wanted to get away from Velia as soon as possible. Everything about being around her made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"To set you up with a cute little girlfriend," Velia's voice was so cheerful for a moment. "The sooner she latches on to someone else, the better."

Krystyn paused to take in that statement. "Because you're in love with Kyrnn."

"I'm not supposed to say that out loud. She doesn't like when people say that."