Although it was bad enough.
The paralysis was ghastly. She could not move at all, not anything. Her chest rose and sank by itself, so presumably her body was being permitted to keep up basic functions, but she was just an occupant. A passenger. Fortunately, her eyes were open so she could see, but she could not move them, and she could not blink. If they were drying out, if they were burning, she did not feel it.
What she could see was not good. The room was distressingly familiar. The featureless white walls that blended into the ceiling and (she assumed) the floor, the glow that came from everywhere. Back in a skin room, she thought grimly. She heard movement from somewhere in the direction of her feet, a clinking of metal. So, I can hear, she thought. I can hear, and I can see, but I can’t feel anything. She couldn’t even tell if she had clothing on.
What about my powers? she thought, and she tried to use her Sight to read whatever she was lying on. Nothing. She could not even use her Sight to detect if she was wearing clothing. She remembered Odette saying that some of the surgical suites could grow their own tables and tools. Either they’ve paralyzed my powers, she thought, or I am naked and lying on something that is alive. She was not certain which she found more distressing.
“I know you’re awake,” said a voice from beyond her feet. It was a man’s voice with the same accent as Odette’s. “I know that you can see and hear but do nothing else. Don’t worry, I’m not going to torture you.”
Well, it’s nice of you to let me know, thought Felicity.
“You won’t feel a thing.”
Somehow, that does not make me feel any better.
“There’s nothing you can tell me that I need to know,” said the voice. “Gestalt has only the vaguest of recollections about you. She could us tell practically nothing about your powers besides what we read in your files.”
I can’t have heard that right, thought Felicity. The male Gestalts are in prison, and the female Gestalt is dead.
“But we do know that when some of the Checquy Pawns are sedated or unconscious, their powers will activate to protect them. So we have to be very careful. I don’t know if you’re one of those, but just to be certain, I have sedated various parts of your brain so you can’t activate your abilities.”
Okay, so that explains that. But it still doesn’t tell me if I’m naked or not.
“Anyway, you should know,” said the man, “if I get the slightest impression that you are pulling some Checquy magic, I will immediately slice open your carotid artery, and you will die right here in this room, on this table.”
Understood, she thought.
“Honestly, I don’t know what Gestalt was thinking, bringing you here at all,” he said.
Gestalt must be that woman Odette knew. Pawn Sophie Jelfs, thought Felicity. How is that possible?
“Still, I thought I’d better take a quick look over and inside you, just for safety’s sake. I know you’ve been attending Odette for a while now.” He talked on, more to himself than to Felicity, although he addressed all the remarks to her. “Gestalt thought we might be able to use you somehow to spur on the Checquy after tonight. ‘Adding insult to injury,’ she said. To be honest, I think she’s just excited to be out in the world. She gets a little overwhelmed by the freedom of it all.”
She sprayed me in the face, Felicity remembered. And Odette too, I think. So Odette wasn’t a mole. She’s not a traitor. I’m so glad.
“After all, we can just grab a Checquy person whenever we need one,” the man was saying. “For God’s sake, they do go home, some of them. Not the Court, apparently, they’ve all been staying tucked away in their fortresses for the past few weeks, but the rank and file go to their houses and apartments.”
Not this little black duck, thought Felicity. I never get to go to my place. Had to put my dog in the boarding kennels.
“Anyway,” said the man, “I have to make sure there are no surprises tucked away. And see if I can get a clue about the nature of your powers. I admit the whole idea is fascinating.”
Good luck, thought Felicity. The scientists at the Estate spent years trying to figure it out.
“You’ve got quite a few scars, you know,” he remarked.
I do know that; I was present when I got them.
“Good musculature.”
Why, thank you.
Then he was moving around, up into her field of vision, peering down into her face but not her eyes.
Oh, I know you! I saw you in the photos. You’re Pim, the boy Odette gets all teary-eyed about when she thinks no one sees.
I’ll give you credit, you’re quite a cutie.
He reached out and touched her face, and she could see the crescents of her cheeks rise up a little at the very bottom of her vision.
He’s opened my mouth.
Then he was coming closer, and his face was intent. His eyes were a smoky gray.
You are yummy, thought Felicity. Odette has good taste in terrorists.
“You used to throw up your food,” he said finally. “Years ago. They repaired your teeth, and did a pretty good job of it, but I can still see traces.” He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. “But I don’t think that’s particularly relevant to our situation here. You don’t have hollow teeth filled with cyanide, and no foldaway fangs.
“Now, I just want to take one quick look under your skin,” he said. “No big cuts, but if your powers are touch-based, then maybe your epidermis will show something interesting.”
Sure, knock yourself out, thought Felicity. I’m just gonna lie here and work on my haikus, since I have nothing better to do. He moved down so that he was just barely in her field of vision.
“Just a small incision on the palm, and I can peel it back and s — merde!” There was a fizzing sound, and an acrid smell wafted through the air.
Oh, good, she thought. I get to smell things too. Then a cloud of bottle-green smoke was billowing up from somewhere and filling the room. It grew denser and denser until she couldn’t see anything. Even the radiant light from the walls and ceiling was blotted out. Did that come out of me? she wondered. Good.
In normal circumstances, the prospect of a torrent of apparently poisonous gas emanating from her might have been mildly concerning, but she’d already accepted the entire situation as hopeless. Now, anything that might screw over her captors was good.
“God!” Pim was choking, coughing, wheezing, and, from what she could tell, swearing a lot in a language she didn’t know. Guess something went wrong. She felt a little bit of satisfaction at the thought. See? Not in control of everything, are you?
Eventually, however, the smoke grew thinner, and light began to shine through again. She couldn’t see Pim, but the weak sound of coughing seemed to be coming from somewhere near the floor. All she could do was stare up at the ceiling, which was not in good shape. There were gray splotches from which no light shone, and sections where the skin was drooping down limply. Pim’s retchings went on for a while, and when his face finally appeared in her field of vision, his skin was red, his eyes were weeping, and he did not look happy.
“So, it seems that someone from the Broederschap injected a few things into you,” he said tightly.
Oh, yeah, the inoculations, remembered Felicity. They seemed like a long time ago.
“I should have guessed. Stupid of me. Do you know what they did?” he asked. “They put some weapons into your system. Some very, very nasty products. Very clever too; they reacted to the bone scalpel I was using. The Broederschap prefers to use bone blades — they’re sharper and better than steel ones. But the shit in your veins could read it. If you got shot with a normal bullet or cut your legs shaving with a metal razor, nothing would happen. But as soon as your blood comes in contact with Grafter-grown bone, fssss!”
No kidding. I wonder if Rook Thomas knew about this?