Shit. Kira ground her forehead into Perry’s chest. Don’t go there. No. Nope.
‘Kira, did you hear me?’ Perry cradled her tight against his body, lifting her off the ground and moving them both down the hall. The guy was slender as a reed, but strong as a fucking ox. Kira was also practically an Oompa-Loompa which made things easier.
‘Your words don’t compute,’ she told his chest hair. This part sucked harder than a Dyson. Not being able to tell Perry about the shit that went on behind the very, very high gates of the Facility. Even her best buddy thought the place did just what it said on the label, ‘engineering and robotics design’. Perry had no idea that willowy guy with the impossible-to-look-away-from lips she’d brought in a couple of times was even more out of this world then he appeared.
‘This is a good thing right? Blake wants to see you.’ Perry grunted his way through a couple of doorways and the smell of stale liquor hit Kira square in the nostrils, making an unstable belly even more so.
‘Probably just to ream me for maxing out the credit cards.’ She shrugged.
But Blake wasn’t calling her in at four in the morning to chat about credit cards. Kira had been fastidiously spending her share of Facility profits since the moment she’d woken up with a prosthetic arm, unbeating artificial heart, and irreparably guilty conscience; and her sister never said a word. Blake grabbed at any opportunity to keep Kira out of her hair, out of her life.
‘Jesus, K.’ A lock of Perry’s product-laden hair slipped over his forehead. ‘Help me a little here. Walk.’
Somehow she did. One bare foot in front of the other. Where the hell were her shoes?
Perry did not lie. In the alleyway beside the pub sat a sleek white vehicle, one gull-wing door raised for her arrival. Giving her no time to escape, Perry shoved one of his favoured jackets at her - a glorious vinyl I’m-trying-to-be-badass creation with studs and all. He tapped the gull-wing and waved at her as it slid down and locked her in a sweet-smelling, beige leather prison.
‘Asshole!’ she shouted at the closed window. Something burned deep in her belly. This hangover was going to suck on a monstrous scale.
The automated vehicle rolled forward, taking a left out of the alleyway and heading out of town. Pryden was barely fit to be called a town, just a single main street with a sprinkling of suburbs around it, and by the time Kira had hauled herself upright again they’d hit the outer limits and cruised into the desert. A liquorice strip of road ran ahead, disappearing into the burnt-orange bumps of the desert. The road would take a couple of twists and turns, then run dead straight for twenty kilometres, all the way to the first security gate of the Facility. The faintest hint of powder-pink blush stained the horizon. Time for vampires to be heading indoors. Kira opened the window, ignoring the posh English-accented voice that advised her not to, so as to retain optimised conditions within the vehicle.
‘Fuck you, car lady.’ Kira hung her head out the window and the knots in her already mussed-up hair had triplets. The chill from earlier had disappeared under the more familiar heavy warmth of the approaching day. Car lady was right, it wasn’t optimal out here but Kira would be damned if she’d admit defeat to an autonomous vehicle. She narrowed her eyes against the blast of rushing air. Rossiter had the car set to a nice little pace. Whatever Blake wanted, she wanted it in a hurry. For ten minutes Kira enjoyed being pummelled by the wind.
A tinkling of bells announced the rise of a screen on the dashboard.
‘Answer.’ Her every wish was the car’s command. And every wish could be uttered without going anywhere near the steering wheel. Kira and driving were not good friends. Not anymore. Last time she drove, someone died.
A familiar face filled the screen. Rossiter, the incredibly annoying hulk. Kira tucked her feet up on the seat and nodded to him over the top of her knees. The dude had an enviable talent of raising one dark eyebrow, a talent he was showing off to full effect right now.
‘Kira.’
‘Good morning, Rossiter, you beautiful slab of man.’ Spittle flew from her mouth, onto the screen. Right over Rossiter’s left eye. She laughed and instantly regretted not taking a bathroom break before leaving the bar.
‘You’re still drunk.’ Rossiter regarded her with stony hazel eyes, and the eyebrow danced.
‘It’s four on a Saturday morning, what the hell else would I be?’ Kira dragged her gaze from the gymnastic disapproval of the eyebrow and glanced outside. Up ahead loomed the low mountain range that ringed the Facility. ‘What the fuck is going on? Why is Queen B summoning me? I’m busy as shit.’
‘I don’t question Blake’s requests.’ Rossiter lifted his planet-wide shoulders in a surprisingly delicate shrug. ‘I just follow them.’
‘Okay, whoa, I don’t need to know about your special, private body-guarding stuff. Keep that in the bedroom.’
‘Are you finished being juvenile?’ His eyebrow was at full attention. Quite impressive.
‘Probably?’ Alcohol and unease gurgled in Kira’s stomach. ‘Am I?’
‘Yes. You are. Now pay attention.’ The big guy had a habit of going all boot-camp instructor on her. She
