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Glad to see you're all still here, still reading and still commenting! I know i love writing this story and i'm so glad you enjoy reading it.
Amy
17. How You Remind Me
A sound tugged at Kelly's consciousness. It wasn't a loud sound, but even in her drugged state she knew something was different. The music that Victor always had playing while he drove wasn't present, but a deep thrumming was. It seemed to come from under her head and all around her at the same time. It was an undertone to the fragments of dream images that cascaded through her head.
The drug kept her mostly unconscious, but her body still struggled for comfort and her mind still struggled for wakefulness. If it weren't for the numbing white noise and the warmth that surrounded her, she might have succeeded in forcing the effect of the drug away.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Creed had bought the warehouse when he found himself spending more time in the Midwest. It was in the years between the strict usefulness of such buildings, and time when the cavernous brick structures were being converted to trendy lofts, galleries and clubs. He'd picked the place up for a song and pretty much worked his ass off over the next few months to make it livable. If anybody had asked, and if he'd chosen to answer, he might have made some excuse about money or not wanting anybody else pawing through his shit. The truth was, he liked doing something with his hands in a way that didn't involve his claws.
It reminded him of the time before. Before he'd gotten lost in all the wars. Before he'd become saturated in the blood and shit of an uncounted number of nameless victims. Before the animal in him had driven the man into hiding and driven Jimmy away. Before he became Victor Creed the monster, he'd wanted something normal. Course he had no fucking idea what 'normal' meant, but he knew it had something to do with having a place of his own and the freedom to feel the sun on his face whenever he wanted to.
Through the years he'd forced himself to forget about it. Told himself it was stupid and unformed and that it wouldn't satisfy his bloodlust or his rage. The houses he'd owned had been comfortable, built to suit him, and not places he could see himself living for any length of time. It'd reinforced the idea that anything 'normal' was permanently out of his reach. It'd made it easier to tell himself that he didn't really want it in the first place.
The weeks he'd spent with the frail had reminded him of that time before and had breathed tenuous life into that long-repressed dream, except now he wasn't alone in that deeply secret fantasy anymore. It was still stupid and probably impossible. He was in too fucking deep to get out completely and she was human. Along with all her other frailties that meant she would be an easy target for any of the enemies he'd made over the years. Still, the sweetness of her lingering scent teased him toward that walled off place inside his head.
He'd never tell her. She'd think he was out of his fucking mind. Besides, he had too much shit going on now to indulge in some kind of dumbass fantasy.
He slowed down on his way through the city, wanting to make sure that the car following him saw exactly where he went. Once he reached the distressed-looking red brick building he typed in a code and the ground level garage door opened. It was the only way into the building from the street. Once the door closed behind him he changed the code for the outer door and placed his palm on the scanner to open the inner door. Conlon's car was there already. Conlon was waiting by the elevator, gun at his side. Creed rolled his eyes and pulled the trunk release lever.
"You piss with your dick in one hand and that thing in the other?" Creed asked.
"Just wanted to be sure you were alone."
"Think I would've come in if I wasn't?"
"No." Conlon admitted. "Guess it's habit."
"Well break it. No wonder the frail's fucking so nervous around you." When he opened the trunk, the stench of anxiety was almost enough to make his eyes water. He turned his head away until the majority of the scent dissipated into the gray, harshly-lit room.
He turned back again to find the frail was still clutching his shirt, but the blanket was mostly off of her. Her shoes were off as well. The blanket might have shifted with the motion of the car, though he thought he'd been careful to tuck it in around her. Her shoes were another matter.
One of the other reasons he'd chosen Hypnocyn was the fact that it didn't produce sleep-walking and all that other crazy shit that Ambien and other drugs like it could. He wondered what else his research had gotten wrong as he carefully lifted her out of the trunk. She shifted in his arms so that she was pressing closer to his chest. At least she was still unconscious. According to his calculations, she should have at least another hour and a half of that extremely deep sleep, and two to three hours after that of a more normal sleep. He wasn't at all sure any of that was trustworthy though.
"You got the groceries I wanted?" He asked Conlon quietly as they stepped onto the steel-paneled elevator. The other mutant entered a code and the elevator started to rise.
"Fridge and pantry are all stocked." He replied in an equally subdued voice.
"And what needed to be gotten rid of?"
"No one'll ever find it."
The elevator stopped on the second floor and Conlon typed in a second code. A panel slid open and Conlon set his palm on the scanner. A moment later, they began their ascent again.
"They better not." The soft growl that laced the statement sent a little shiver through the frail. He held her closer in an instinctive gesture of protection. "Bags?"
"Inside the door." Conlon said.
The doors slid open and Creed stepped out. "I'll call you when I'm ready to leave. Stay downstairs unless she calls you."
Conlon nodded and the door slid shut again.
Once they were alone, Creed set the frail down on one of the large sofas, taking care to set her on her uninjured shoulder. He turned on the gas fireplace. He hated the fucking thing. It smelled all wrong and he didn't think it got the damp out of the air the way a wood fire did. Still, he had to admit it was more convenient that hauling firewood through the city.
He watched the frail for a minute and when he was satisfied that she wasn't going to move, he went to take a shower. There was no trace of the whore's blood on his skin, but the scent of her body and her death was still on his clothes and it disgusted him. After he was cleaned up, he'd find himself something to eat. It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd had to cook for himself since he'd found her. His meals appeared either on schedule or on demand and almost always exactly the way he liked them. A little smile curled his lips as he walked into the bathroom. Fucking frail. Had him spoiled already.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Kelly's eyes fluttered open, but her limbs still felt as if they were being held down by lead weights. Panic crested and then ebbed away as she realized it was nothing more than the result of prolonged deep sleep. She concentrated on waking up the rest of her body and tried to figure out where she was. When she looked down toward her feet she could see the fire moving, but it looked unnatural. The tumbled river stone surround was not as perfect as the one in the cabin. The imperfections made it more pleasing to the eye.
The wood floor had suffered years of distress, but had been polished anyway, turning the scars into something beautiful that stood out in sharp contrast to the pattern of the oriental rug immediately in front of the sofa. She scanned the room in front of her eyes slowly, and found most of the space to be in darkness. Even in the lack of light, she could tell that the room was enormous. She could see the dark shapes of oversized furniture arranged in clusters, she presumed to denote specific areas. She could just about make out a difference in the texture of the floor in the clusters and the spaces between them. She guessed that a rug tied each cluster together, giving the illusion of rooms without walls. She couldn't discern more detail than that though.
