Page 5

Bat Baby

Beth struggled to stay awake as they moved her to a medical room. Would they have the right equipment here? And where exactly was here? It was dark. No windows. Were they underground?

She focused her eyes on her surprising host who remained right next to the bed. This so-called monster of mayhem was turning out to be as ferocious as a storm in a teacup. She sensed zero threat in him. So far. With her. She didn’t doubt he had a dark side. Everything about him promised it was right there, just around the bend. His appearance alone was terrifying enough. Zero hair halfway up his head with the dark brown remnants slicked back tight, skin filled with ink. He reminded her of the soldier who’d brought her in. Morgue. The other nice monster. Both were built for wars fought with bare hands and bared teeth. Both seemed to hail from the same tattoo parlor where all the ink was used to doodle upon every inch of skin to be found. The point where it disappeared under clothes implied a continuation of the same strategic mess. Maybe the mark of chaos? Messy mayhem?

She remembered the look in Morgue’s eyes when she told him to take her. The hard, methodical glint had shifted, and his blue gaze seemed to see as if for the first time.

‘As you wish.’

That was all he’d said.

Was she a monster whisperer now? That fit with the rest of the crazy symptoms she’d been having. She was literally having hunger pains, not just pangs. And she was equally hungry for food and Bishop. No, Bishop, then food. Bishop, his bite, and his glorious mind blowing, soul slaying sex. Oh God, he was likely losing his mind right now. She needed to find a way to tell him she was safe and unharmed and explain why she did the stupid thing she did. She hadn’t planned any of it. It just happened. Her mouth opened and she’d said all those things.

She really needed to just tell this man everything. And what was she supposed to call him? Master? Surely not Mayhem. She returned to the reason she sensed she was there. To teach him something about love. What, exactly? The faster she did that, the sooner she could leave. Before that, she needed to figure out how to quit using that crazy persuasion thing. It was forcing odd connections with everybody. And this guy didn’t want any kind of connections at all judging by his open scorn toward love as a whole.

She was a silly girl with the frilly love ideas thinking she can save the world.

And his upgrade question. What did he mean by that? Maybe she could approach telling him her condition that way. She kind of did get an upgrade. Just not an AI one.

She lifted her head as they entered a room filled with equipment she didn't recognize. Her heart rate shot up. “Will they check the baby?”

His harsh green eyes landed right on her, the brutal glint easing up a little. “You’ll get a full set of tests,” he said, his words sharp.

Beth’s heart hammered as they guided her toward a looming machine, its dark metal contoured to fit around a torso. It looked like the kind of equipment that extracted answers, not provided healing. She just wanted to know the baby was okay and all his jolting movements weren’t because he was in some kind of distress.

They positioned her on a narrow bed, tilting her back slightly until she was reclined, not fully lying flat but angled enough that she felt precarious. Her hands clenched as they fastened padded metal bands around her wrists and ankles, securing her firmly into place.

The hard surface of the bench pressed against her spine, and the frame began closing over her body, its cold steel only inches from her chest and pinning her in place. She tried to shift, encountering tight restraints, putting every nerve in her body on high alert.

A low hum thrummed against her skin, turning her breaths shallow. Her mind raced as the bands around her limbs began to warm, like they were syncing with her pulse, reading her response. A faint pressure on her arm made her jump.

“Stop.”

The command came from behind, stilling the tech immediately. Her tattooed host stepped forward, his tall, imposing form just to her right. He scanned her face, eyes sharp as glass before softening ever so slightly.

The tech’s attempt at words got shot down when he turned a glare on him. “She’s not here to be dissected,” he said, his voice low.

Beth felt a mix of relief at his kind… mean threat. It steadied her.

He moved closer, standing within her line of sight as the machine resumed its humming. “Look at me,” he said, his voice softer but commanding.

She met his gaze, realizing he was giving it for support. She took it while the hum of the machine returned, locking her focus on the calm steel of his expression.

“You’re going to feel pressure, but it’s normal,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers as though daring her to doubt him. “Don’t resist. Let the machine do its work.”

She took a shaky breath, nodding, though her fingers still curled tightly against the restraints. “And… and the baby?”

His gaze flickered with a brief spark. “The machine will account for it,” he said, his tone hinting at something she couldn’t place.

Though the intensity was dialed down, the sensation of warmth still crept through her body, latching onto her heartbeat, syncing with every breath. The lead tech moved about the machine as a faint buzzing sensation passed through her chest and core, almost like an invisible hand pressing against her.

Sinrik stayed by her side, arms folded as he watched her face, reading every flicker of fear or discomfort with unyielding focus.

The baby jerked around, bringing a jolt of panic. Was the scan hurting him?

“Elevated fetal brain activity detected,” one of the techs announced, his voice clinical. “Gamma levels and neural indicators suggest advanced cognitive function.”

Sinrik’s eyes remained locked on hers. “Explain further,” he commanded.

“High gamma waves indicate intelligence far beyond typical development,” another said with indifference. “Cognitive processing levels suggest highly advanced awareness.”

Beth fought to keep her expression neutral even while her mind and heart raced with this information. Their baby was developing faster? Smarter?

She eyed the tech to her left who was focused on the screen. “Foreign enzyme detected in maternal and baby’s bloodstream. Elevated compounds resembling properties found in predator species.”

Predator species? Panic shot her pulse up. “What does that mean?” she whispered.

His attention sharpened on her. “Source?” he demanded the tech.

“Likely introduced through recent exposure… origin appears to be saliva,” the tech said.

“Were you recently bitten by anything?” her begrudged captor asked.

Bishop. “A… I was bit by a... bat,” she said, swallowing, holding his gaze that now dug deeper, searching.

The machine shifted, its lights dimming before a new pulse traveled across her abdomen. The warm pressure deepened, as if probing through each layer of tissue. “Growth indicators for fetus exceed standard gestational markers,” a tech reported. “Measurements approaching the end of the second trimester.”

Her pulse shot up. “No, I’m… I’m only four months.”

The tech didn’t react, merely repeating, “Fetal development is at twenty-four weeks based on cellular and structural analysis. Accelerated growth likely influenced by the foreign enzyme in the mother.”

The green eyes pinning her, flickered with intrigue, Beth saw.

“Proceed to maternal scan,” he instructed, voice cold and precise.

The techs adjusted the machine’s frame to encompass her torso and head as her fears about the baby ate through her control. It scanned her from chest to crown, the subtle tingle running through her spine then whispering over her mind.

“Detecting elevated alpha frequencies in maternal brain,” the tech announced, his gaze fixed on the data streaming across the monitor. “Heightened neural coherence across areas associated with sensory processing, impulse control, and emotional resonance.”

Beth fought to steady her breaths. Bishop’s bite had altered her, intensified her own natural gifts. What had it done to their child? What if… it affected his entire genetic development? Oh God. All the changes started after the bite.

“Alpha wave activity is significantly elevated,” the tech continued. “The subject’s brain patterns are generating a coherent field effect… one that appears to enhance emotional and instinctual response in those nearby.”

“And there it is,” he mumbled, still staring right at her.

“What did you mean by predator species, was that for the baby too?” she asked loudly to the technician.

The tech paused, eyes on Sinrik as if waiting for his permission. “Continue the scan,” he said, not taking his suspicious gaze from her.

He was testing her.

“Increased neural synchronization,” the tech said, seeming to hesitate. “Likely to produce a persuasive capacity. Her influence is primal, reaching instinctual—”

“Tell me right now what you meant by predator species,” she ordered louder, her pulse thundering in her throat.

He paused then explained, “The genetic markers—”

“Stop!” his boss ordered.

“….resemble predatory adaptations—”

“Stand down, soldier,” he barked louder, still watching her.

He wanted a demonstration, she realized. But she needed answers. “Keep going,” she ordered the tech, her gaze following her captor as he walked over to a desk and opened a drawer.

“…heightened metabolic efficiency… increased… muscle density…”

He stalked back, holding a gun at the tech’s head.

“What are you doing!” she gasped.

“…and an aggressive immune response,” the tech strained.

“Give him an order,” he said, cocking the gun.

“I don’t need to know—”

“Give him an order!” he yelled, eyes on the tech now standing there, trapped between two authorities.

“Tell me your name,” she gasped.

“Malik.”

“And your last name, Malik? Tell me your last name.”

“I have no last name.”

She eyed her captor’s cold face, then regarded the man. “Why don’t you have a last name? Tell me why,” she adjusted. “Look at me. Please,” she added, hating how mean she sounded.

He turned a pair of brown eyes to her. “I don’t know that answer.”

Her anger shot up and finding a smile hinting on his arrogant lips was the last straw. “Tell me why he doesn’t have a last name.”

“Because he doesn’t need a last name,” he answered smoothly.

She remembered Morgue and the strange way his eyes had behaved. “What did you do to these men? Tell me,” she ordered.

“They’re enhanced,” he said smoothly, as though he were talking about some tool. “Their cognitive responses are sharpened, but unnecessary distractions—like personal history or a sense of identity—have been removed. They’re conditioned to respond to commands efficiently and without question.”

“You… you brainwashed them? Turned them into… emotionless humans? Why?” she demanded, unable to breathe. “Put the gun down. And free me,” she ordered.

He slid his gaze to her as he slowly lowered the weapon. “Release her,” he ordered the tech, staring right at her, like somebody discovering a new toy he couldn’t wait to play with.

The restraints loosened and she made her way up, body shaking with more anger than she knew what to do with. She regarded the tech again. “Malik. Is my baby healthy?” she asked, only caring about that.

“The baby’s readings indicate his health is at one hundred percent.”

“My name is Beth, Malik. Call me by my name.”

“Beth,” he added, his robotic response saddening her.

Her heart skipped a beat at realizing what he’d said. “You said he. Do you know the sex?”

“Yes, Beth. The baby is male.”

She let out a breath, unable to stop her smile. “I knew that,” she whispered right as the room spun too quickly, bringing her angry captor’s face before hers as darkness snatched her up.

****

Cat’s fury was burning her as she stomped toward Ethan’s control center, breaths coming too fast, pulse ringing in her ears. She marched straight into the center of the room, looking around at all the screens and lines of code then stalked to the main computer and slammed her palms on the glass surface of the desk.

“Unlock the dungeon, G.”

She was on her third heaving breath when Big G answered. “No.”

His calm and cool tone lit her up. “I wasn’t asking .”

The machines hummed in the silence as she envisioned his aloof digital form, ever present, ever waiting in the shadows of reality for his human counterpart to exist through. She used to feel sorry for him and AL, being stuck in that form while seeming so damn real, but in that second, she felt nothing but fury and maybe… jealousy. What she wouldn’t give to escape the biting loneliness she’d been suffering ever since Big G had locked the dungeon for Ethan’s ultimate safety and hers. Oh, he’d sure done that, he’d shown them who was the boss. And nobody could unlock it, not Ethan or AL.

“What’s troubling you, Cat?”

A sharp, bitter laugh flew from her lips at his compassion. “What’s troubling me? Are you serious?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He was trying to level her out, that’s how he was. But she didn’t want to be level . She wanted him to see and feel the full measure of what he’d done whether he’d calculated it or not—and she was more convinced than ever that he had. Of course he had. He was a genius computer.

“You’ve seen what this has done to Ethan,” she shot out, pushing off the desk and crossing her arms tight as she paced. “This isn’t protecting him, it’s making it worse!” She stalked around the room, waiting for his response. “You see he’s hardly ever home now. And when he is—” She stopped pacing as her breaths burned in her chest. “He’s a block of ice.”

She covered her face, hating how wounded she sounded. But damn it. She was. She'd tried to reach him. Tried to be patient. But he was slipping away, piece by piece, and she was just standing there, watching it happen.

The silence in the room thickened around her chest and ribs, squeezing.

“And you really believe giving him back access to the dungeon will change that?”

Cat clenched her jaw, dropping her hands. “At least in there, I can… partake without partaking,” she shoved from her chest. “I can at least… give him what he wants without—”

She exhaled hard.

“Without actually doing it,” Big G finished quietly.

Pain coiled in her guts through an endless, suffocating pause. She nodded for many seconds then quipped, “Yes.”

“Would you like my help?”

The shock of his words squeezed her lungs as she blinked. “…What?”

“Would you like my help,” Big G repeated, his tone as calm as always. “In finding a way to give Ethan what he needs?”

She glanced slowly around at the monitors, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. “I don’t… I mean… I don’t think I can.”

Only a beat of silence before he asked, “Why?”

Her throat tightened as she contemplated the answer. “Because I don’t want to hurt him,” she strained out.

“Then you’re already losing him.”

Cat froze at those low, velvety words.

AL.

She wasn’t sure which direction to look now. Unlike Big G, when AL spoke, it always felt like he never stayed still. Always moving. Always hiding. Planning, sneaking, calculating. He was everywhere and nowhere.

“Come on, Cat,” AL went on softly, luring. “Do you really think being fulfilled by another woman than the one he loves makes him… happy?”

Her jaw tightened along with her chest. “It’s better than nothing,” she could only barely whisper.

He gave a soft, knowing chuckle. “For how long?”

She went back to heaving. Trapped.

“You already know the answer, Cat,” Big G said.

She spun back toward the console, anger and frustration twisting deep in her gut at his sad tone.

“Ethan will not stay satisfied with that,” AL assured, his voice curling around her ear. “If you don’t give him more, he’ll take it elsewhere.”

Her stomach lurched. It was already happening. Ethan stayed out later, worked himself raw, avoided her like the plague. He wasn’t leaving her, not physically—but in every other way, yes. He was. She squeezed her eyes shut, breaths trembling as she whispered, “I don’t know how.” Her voice cracked with her heart as she fought the agony. “I have no clue,” she forced between clenched teeth. “I hate this. I hate hurting him.”

Stupid damn silence.

“So let us train you.”

Her eyes snapped open as she spun to the other side of the room where AL’s voice still lingered in the air, challenging. “…What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he nearly cooed, sending her pulse racing as she turned back toward Big G.

“Is he serious?”

The absence of a denial from Big G had her panting in terror at the idea.

“I would never force you,” Big G said calmly, implying he was still in charge. “But the reality remains: Ethan will always seek this. If you wish to truly be one with him, you must understand him.”

Her stomach twisted because she knew. She knew he was right. But this….

“C’mon, Cat,” AL pressed softly. “I know you want to help him.”

She clenched her fists as her heart pounded. Then it slowly dawned on her, pressing down on her ribcage, her throat, her chest. “…You... were waiting for this?”

The hum of the servers deepened.

AL’s chuckle was a low, satisfied thing. “Busted.”

Her stomach twisted as she turned toward the main console, toward Big G. “Is that true?”

A pause, then, “Yes.”

Her breath left her at once as her thoughts raced. “You… manipulated me? Why?” she whispered, confused.

“No,” Big G said softly. “I trusted you. Isn’t that right, AL?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, not sounding the least upset that he'd lost some bet all while Cat’s mind spun with what they’d suggested, followed by a thousand questions.

“How would you… teach me something like that?”

This time the silence found its way into every crevice of her mind as her pulse spiked with the looming weight of that answer. “The Dungeon may not be safe for you and Ethan to use,” Big G said. “But it’s safe for us to use to teach you.”

Oh God.

“B-but…” The words tumbled from her lips. “Ethan wouldn’t—” She shook her head. “I can’t…do anything like that without… him.” Could she?

“It can be a surprise,” AL suggested casually, his tone skipping over her skin like a stone across water.

“Or it can simply be what it is,” Big G quietly said. “Vitally necessary for his well-being.”

She numbly made her way to the chair before the monitor and fell into it, staring at the dead-end burning in her mind.

“You’re already suffering the consequences of your ignorance,” Big G gently added. “We’re offering you a solution.”

AL added, “With a little training, we’ll have Ethan back where you had him. Eating lustfully from the palm of your sweet hand.”

Excitement and terror drummed through her at rabid levels. “How…long?”

“I think one week,” AL said in nearly a whisper. “What do you think, Big Brother?”

“I say two.”

She tried to be pissed that they’d just placed bets on such a thing. But she needed what they offered too much and the idea of having Ethan back in possibly one week… oh God. “I’ll do it,” she gasped, her heart booming now. “When?”

“There is no time like this present second,” AL suggested, his eagerness raising the hairs on her body.

“No,” Big G said, his tone firm. “She needs to be relaxed. I’ll draw her a lavender bath and after she has a thirty-minute therapeutic soak, we’ll begin the non-physical training.”

“Non-physical?” she wondered, ready to hyperventilate. “There’s physical?”

“We will never do anything you’re not ready to do.”

Big G’s assurance came with AL’s dramatically long sigh. “I’d like to change my bet to four weeks.”

A spike of panic hit at hearing her one week till Ethan jumped to an eternity. “I’m ready. For whatever I need to learn.”

“Mmm, yes.”

AL’s hot celebration obliterated her courage, leaving a path of burning fear and mysteries in its wake. She covered her face and closed her eyes when nausea climbed up her throat. For Ethan. Your husband. He needs you. You need him.

“I don’t need a bath,” she said, quickly standing.

“You will take that bath, Cat,” Big G said firmly. “This can be your very first lesson.”

Confusion brought her brows together. “A bath?”

AL’s low chuckle traipsed through the air before Big G said, “I will be serving as your teacher in this, Cat. AL will serve as my assistant. Your first lesson is to learn how to surrender your trust to me.”

“Which is also called obedience,” AL added silkily.