Melt: (A TimeBend Novel - Book One) Read online

  Mala couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell at the woman to resist, or if she admired her for not showing fear in the face of such a future. She turned to watch the Wilde general walk off screen, memorizing his face, his gold hair and green eyes. He would have been handsome if his face hadn’t been covered in tattoos. Or if he wasn’t the epitome of evil.

  I will help them. I won’t turn my back on them again. And I’ll make him wish he’d never seen a black fish banner. I will find him and repay Bara’s death with fire.

  The film shut off, the lights came up, and she heard the solid click as the lock on the hall door released. Mala was freed with no outlet for her anger.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mala marched to the cafeteria. She secretly wished for a combat session with Verrukter. She wanted to punch someone. Watching that video for hours had dredged up so many memories that she thought her head might explode. Her stomach twisted in pity for the survivors. The little boys with no parents and no future. Sari, who'd once given Mala a ribbon because she'd been crying. Verrat, who used to sing to the children. She even felt sorry for Garon. Even a bottomfeeder like him doesn't deserve to die under the Erlender whip.

  She grabbed a cup of water and drained it in under a minute. She was gulping a second when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  Startled, she spilt the entire glass. Water soaked her face and chest. Mala grimaced and turned to see Lowe. He was striking in a navy wetsuit: the color emphasized his eyes and the cling emphasized his muscular torso. And I look like a three-year-old, she groaned internally, mopping up her chin.

  “Sorry,” he apologized and handed her a cloth napkin. “I've been looking for you all day. Where have you been?”

  “Espionage lesson,” Mala replied shortly. “You didn't tell me that training includes random lockups.”

  Lowe's eyes glinted with amusement. “Well, I think Fell thought you’d earned some special treatment. Not to mention caution on her part. I mean, you did take out Verrukter in your first lesson.”

  “That was a fluke. Obviously. Fell’s my instructor? I thought she was the head of all the espionage instructors.”

  “I didn’t say that. You never heard that.” Lowe muttered. “You aren’t supposed to know. That lady will kick my you-know-what if she finds out you know.”

  “Okay, okay! I don’t know,” Mala reassured him. She finished mopping herself up. You need to tell him about Ein, her brain nagged. Now is better than later. She took a deep breath.

  But before she could speak, Lowe grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the cafeteria. He pulled her into a secluded hallway and turned to face her. He took her hands gently, and a soft grin lit his face. “So … I wanted to see you because I’ve thought up a solution to our little problem. I got something for you—us. Here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a strip of black cloth.

  “A rag?” Mala looked at him quizzically.

  “Close your eyes.” His tone was commanding. It reminded her of Ein’s orders the night before. The memory of Ein pushing her against the wall flashed through her head for a second. Damnit.

  “Wait. I need to tell you—”

  “In a minute,” Lowe turned her around. “Keep your eyes closed.”

  If only Ein had kept his eyes closed last night.

  “Lowe, I have a problem.”

  “I’ve been waiting all day to show you, Mala. Just two seconds.”

  Resigned, Mala closed her eyes. He slid the black piece of cloth over her eyes and tied it securely behind her head. Then he spun her around to face him.

  “It’s a blindfold,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “Okay?”

  She felt his arms caress her forearms and slide gently up to hold her shoulders. A sensitive little shiver ran up her spine. One hand slid to cup her chin. “Now I can kiss you without meltdowns. It’s perfect!” And his lips were on hers.

  A million thoughts rushed through Mala’s head. Not one of them was romantic. Should we be doing this? I didn’t brush my teeth! I need to tell him. Why isn’t this kiss as hot as the one Ein gave me? Oh, sludge—I did not just think that. Lowe beats Ein on so many levels it’s not even funny.

  She pulled away but left the blindfold on. She wasn’t sure how he’d react. Coward. “Lowe, Ein figured out my melts last night. He figured out what starts them and he figured out a way for me to control who I melt into. Kind of.”

  “That’s great! That’s awesome! So, we don’t need this thing,” he whipped the blindfold off her head and kissed her full on the mouth. His joy and giddiness washed over her.

  A minute later, a gangly and confused fourteen-year-old Lowe stared at her. “But I thought you said …”

  Mala pulled a strand of red hair nervously, shifting her eyes to look for water. The lake beyond the windows mocked her. She stared at her reflection for a second, memorizing the features of the girl Lowe had once loved. She bit her lip and turned away. Lowe wouldn’t look at her. She sighed. “Ein figured it out, kind of, I said. Not everything. Emphasis on HE forcefully figured it out. But the only way I can control who I melt into … is if he kisses me.”

  Lowe straightened. “I see.” He stared down the hall. Mala gave him a moment to compose himself. He used that moment to melt, shifting calmly back into the smooth, confident adult Lowe.

  “Lowe, I did NOT kiss him. He just shoved his face into mine and said he knew what would happen. And he was right. I hate it. But he was.”

  Lowe looked back at her, then quickly away. “Where does that leave us?”

  She put a hand on his. “With a blindfold and a couple months of pent-up frustration to release.”

  A crooked smile stole over his face. “But … why does it have to be a kiss? When you melted with Tier—there was no kiss. Blut—no kiss. Bara—no kiss.”

  Mala cocked her head, “He said … something about how it didn’t matter what I felt. That I reflect back what other people feel.”

  Lowe’s grin died instantly. “So he feels something for you.”

  Mala started, “What? No! We fight all the time. We hate each other. He basically told me he had to swallow vomit in order to kiss me.”

  Lowe shook his head sadly. “Mala … Ein loves to argue. And I don’t know what’s been going on in your lab sessions. I didn’t think that was something I needed to worry about. Honestly, I was more concerned about Verrukter.”

  “Gag me. Please! They are both equally disgusting. In their own awful ways.”

  Lowe glanced at her, then away. “Sorry—I still have trouble focusing when you look like that.”

  “Do you want me to go get some water?” Mala offered.

  Lowe sighed and rubbed his chin. “No. I’d rather figure out how you can melt without Ein so that I don’t have to add that to the list of things—”

  “Answer to your prayers right here,” Ein bounded up the hallway, smirking. Behind him trailed a line of hesitant Typical boys. “Line up, guys. Kissing booth is about to open.” He turned to Mala. “You look better like that. Maybe you should just stay that way permanently.”

  Mala narrowed her eyes and Lowe took a step forward.

  Ein held up his hands. “Calm down. Joking. Kind of. But I am here to verify that Mala’s melts are uniquely controlled by my impressive abilities.” He winked at Mala. “So, pucker up, little princess. Let’s see what these poor souls willing to sacrifice their lips to herpes can do.”

  Mala punched him. But even the vision of Ein gasping for breath didn’t satisfy her. She turned to Lowe. “You see what you were worried about? Mud-breathing jerkface.”

  “I agree. But I also think he’s right. To test to see if anyone else can make you melt at will. The more people, the better for you. Safer.”

  Mala’s stomach sank to her feet. Kissing a lineup of strange guys sounds as appealing as licking a raw fish. But if Lowe agreed with Ein, then she wasn’t going to have a choice. Sludge. Sh
e braced herself as the first, pimple-faced Typical approached.

  She melted.

  Melted again.

  And again.

  Each time was the same. Once the guy got really into the kiss, she’d back off and stare. The melt would take over. And she’d have no choice. She’d melt into a random girl. Of course, Ein could never be merciful. Several of the men in the lineup were nearly as crusty-looking as Tier. Mala’s black wetsuit ripped as her body expanded. After a particularly bad rip across the stomach, she tried to call off the experiment.

  As Ein opened his mouth to argue, a door burst open at the far end of the hall. A hulking man hurtled towards the group. He skidded to a stop and turned to Lowe, bowing respectfully. Mala noticed the straight line burned into his hand.

  “Sir,” he panted. “It's the Erlenders. They just stole four boats.”

  “When?”

  “About an hour ago. Eight Senebals killed. Verloren guard is evacuating their territory. Firefight is too rough. Tier's getting together a meeting right now to discuss our response.”

  “Response?”

  “Classified, sir.”

  “Where’s the meeting?” Lowe asked.

  “Combat four.”

  Without a backward glance, Lowe sprinted down the hall and slammed through a door. Mala and Ein were left with a line of shuffling Typicals.

  Mala turned to Ein. “Okay, point proven, muck brain. No one else can help me control my melts. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “There’s still six more guys in line.”

  “We’re done,” Mala didn’t wait for a response. She tied up the sagging remains of her wetsuit so they settled on her hips and marched off. Well, that could have gone worse. Marginally. She made her way back to the cafeteria.

  She grabbed a cup of water and dunked her hand in. She smiled at the slack jawed serving boy after she’d melted. Then she headed for the food.

  Ges entered just as Mala sat down at an empty table. He spotted her and her heaping plate, smiled, and walked over. With a perfunctory bow for the watching eyes, he said, “Wow. You know obese assassins can't really make a quick getaway, right?”

  “Ha ha. I haven't eaten all day,” Mala grumbled between mouthfuls of pasta. “What time is it, anyway? I've been locked up in espionage.”

  “Oh,” Ges nodded knowingly and sunk down into a chair. “Nine-ish. But it feels like midnight. I swear—they run us ragged.”

  Mala gave a sarcastic grunt as she thought, You, ragged? Ha.

  “Why was today so awful?” she asked before slurping up some pumpkin sauce.

  Ges made a face at her table manners. “Well, you know we keep all the data on Kreis—historical, current missions, video feeds, right? So, we also run the stats. And Tier had ordered up this huge project on missions over the past twelve months and we were just finishing up under deadline when video feed of all these attacks came in. Chaos!”

  “I heard about those attacks. Four boats, right? But they run raids all the time. So do we. What's the big deal?”

  Ges leaned forward. “You can't tell anyone, okay?” His eyes were piercing, intense. He ran a hand through his spiky hair. “I mean it.”

  “I won't.” Mala put down her fork and leaned toward him.

  “All four boats were in different places. Far beyond typical radio communication. But they all occurred simultaneously. In one attack, they stole almost a ton of milled flour. They stole felled timber another place. That was quite a feat because we were in the middle of loading it. Stole a ship. But in the last attack, they slaughtered the adults and took the kids with them.”

  Mala felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her stomach. The hair stood up on her arms. She’d just gotten through hours on end of watching this evil. Now this? “How? Why?”

  Ges shrugged. “We don't know. But their coordination, their strategy, taking the kids ... my guess is they took the kids so we’d focus on getting them back, instead of going after the other supplies. But something's changed. In the past six months, Mala, only twenty-four percent of our missions have been successful. Twenty-four percent. They’re killing us. Literally. And we’ve got no mucking idea.”

  A shiver ran down Mala's spine. The Center has the most advanced technology I’ve ever seen. Even if Ein has to beat its brains in to get it to work. These gadgets were far superior to the rusted handheld walkie-talkies Bara’s guard had used. She’d seen giant guns here that had stands and fired faster than she could blink. Lowe and one of those guns alone could have taken out half of Bara's guard.

  The Erlenders were just a group of superstitious heathens. They didn't believe in science, they prayed for miracles. They didn’t have this tech. They stole everything they had, from land to water to ships. How can they be winning? Unless I’m right. Unless their stupid superstitions actually mean something. Damnit, Ein! If that stupid mudbreather hadn’t barged in, we’d know. Alba would have melted. She leaned forward on her elbow. “What do you think is going on?”

  “Well—” Ges's answer died and Mala saw him staring fearfully behind her. She turned to see Alba. “I better go,” Ges mumbled. He scrambled out of his seat, bowed, and left the cafeteria without even grabbing something to eat.

  Mala watched him in astonishment and then turned to Alba, more than a little upset. “Why did you do that?”

  “Mala, I ... I think I probably need to explain better. I’ve seen you with him a lot and I thought you were totally into the research, which is good. And then, with, you know … the other stuff. I knew he was helping you with that, too. But, I just should have explained that Kreis and Typicals don’t usually hang out.”

  Immediately Mala stiffened. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that yesterday, when he was helping me research the ceremony.”

  Alba bit her lip. “I was desperate. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I think I confused you. And that’s dangerous.”

  “How? What is so wrong about me and Ges being friends?”

  Alba looked uncomfortable. “Well yeah but ... I can’t …we’re like the elite. They’re ... more like servants. I mean, assistants. They help us ... they aren’t, maybe I should put it another way: we’re active-duty Kreis. We’re supposed to focus on training. We aren’t supposed to get attached. So you shouldn’t be gossiping with him. And he should know better.”

  “What is this really about?” Mala couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What’s the matter with her? “Neid hangs around a whole group of them.”

  “Yeah well, Neid’s a little boyfriend-stealing tramp with bad habits. Habits she’s gonna have to break if she ever wants—” Alba stopped herself from getting into a bitter tirade. “Nevermind. Off topic. Honey, look. I'm just saying this because I’m supposed to tell you what I can.” She stared intently at Mala.

  “Well thanks,” Mala said. “Great advice. Excuse me if I don't take it.”

  “Whoa! Don’t get mad at me. Go ahead and hang out. Whatever. It's not my funeral. But I hadn’t ever told you and like I said, it’s kinda my job. But clearly I stink at my job because everything I do just turns to sludge, so hey, get mad at me. Not like you’re the first today or yesterday or every damn day I’m stuck in this mucked up old body!” Alba’s tone got progressively louder and more incomprehensible as tears welled up. Finally she could hold it in no longer and a sob burst out. She rushed away from Mala towards the door.

  Mala sighed. She sat uncertainly for a moment, torn between guilt and gnawing hunger. Well, I won’t be able to help her if I pass out, she rationalized, and finished her meal before heading down to the Costume Shop.

  She knocked hesitantly at the door, shifting her feet and second-guessing whether Alba would have gone back to their hut. But before she could turn to leave, one of the tailors opened the door. He looked at Mala for a moment, weighed her expression, and then he slid aside and allowed her into the cave of clothes.

  Alba’s sobbing made her easy to find. She was perched in the jewelry section in
front of a small circular mirror, trying on earrings even as tears dripped down the rivulets of her wrinkled cheeks. She saw Mala’s reflection and stiffened. She didn’t turn around.

  “I’m sorry I got upset with you,” Mala said. “I am not very good at ... well, at much. And Ges’s been really nice to me and you have, too and I just ... I’m sorry.” She stopped awkwardly, not knowing if she should say anything about melting, or if that would just make Alba cry more. Part of her wished someone else would come along and break the tension. But all the old men vanished.

  Alba tried on a pair of thirty-four caliber bullet studs before replying. “It’s alright.”

  Mala stood for a second, shifting from foot to foot then decided her nervous energy was making things more awkward. She sat on a stepstool nearby. “So, wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” Once she’d said it, she didn’t know if she’d gone too far. “Of course, you don’t have to. I can tell you all about my day in lockup without anything to eat trying to figure out how to lip-read silent film and not pass out from starvation because no one in this place seems to prioritize food ...”

  Alba just smiled sadly and picked up a box of necklaces. She started to untangle them one by one. “I’ve always been the best. Literally. My recruiter is like my mentor and he’s always helped me with everything ... he gave me tricks and tips and he was there for my first mission, my first kill ... now he’s on this mission and he’s been gone for months. Then this happens and I can’t fix it. Nothing can fix it. And I’m useless. And so now it’s like, was I ever really any good? Or was it all him? And now, they want me to try shock therapy. These medics came today while I was working in the cafeteria. They think they need to jolt my brain or something.” She tugged at a knot of gold chain futilely, her eyes too full of tears to focus.

  Mala took a deep breath. “As in, electricity?”

  Alba nodded. “They think my brain patterns have shifted or something ... depression, they said. And they want to try and reverse it.”

  Mala didn't say what she wanted to say. Wouldn't it kill you? Instead she asked, “What’s the success rate?”