Page 53 of Alien's Luck
“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.
