“You’re the best surgeons on the planet.”
“I suppose.”
“So does that mean you have a cure for cancer?”
“Uh... which cancer?” asked Odette, who didn’t like being loomed over.
“Any cancer,” he said flatly.
“Oh. Then yes,” said Odette tartly, and she felt triumphant for a moment as the man took a step back. He rallied, however, and stepped forward to loom again.
“And will this cure be made available to the British people?”
“Well, one dose of the cure involves slaughtering seven adult sea turtles and about three hundred cattle in such a way as to render the meat and hide unusable,” said Odette. “Basically, it leaves the corpses as a form of toxic waste. Making it is very labor-intensive. And it results in the recipient becoming sterile.”
“How convenient,” sneered the man. Odette could feel her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.
“I’m sorry, English is only my fourth language,” she began, “but I don’t think that’s the right —”
“Shut up!” he spat at her. Odette noticed that his hands were clenched tight.
He’s not just being a jerk. He’s spoiling for a fight, she realized with shock. She looked around anxiously. One wall of the conference room was glass, and throughout the day she’d had to make a conscious effort to ignore the stares of the passing Checquy staff, but now the corridor seemed to be empty.
“You Grafters can do a lot, can’t you?” he asked. “You can make soldiers bigger and stronger. You can make a man whose skin eats other people until he fills the room. And then tentacles reach out and pull people in and dissolve them.” Odette didn’t answer. There was a strong smell of ozone building in the air. She kept her hands in her lap, petrified of saying or doing something that would push him to act. Inside her forearms, she felt her spurs twitch. Why doesn’t someone come?
“That meat cube in Reading?” said the man in a fierce whisper. “One of my friends got pulled in by that thing before Rook Thomas ripped it to pieces. I saw his corpse, bleached white and eaten away.” The smell of ozone was burning her nose by this point, and she had a sense that something absolutely horrendous was about to happen.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Odette softly. “But that wasn’t —”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?”
Odette’s hands slipped off each other, and she looked down. An orange-tinged clear oil was covering her skin, as if it had condensed there. As she watched, shiny orange drops appeared on the sleeves of her suit coat. He’s using his powers on me! she thought wildly. What’s happening? What is this? She shifted under his enraged gaze and felt herself slide a little on the seat, which was also suddenly slick with grease. She could feel more oil sweating onto her face and sliding under her clothes. The conference table was swimming in the stuff, and it was soaking into the papers scattered across it. It dripped down from the ceiling and oozed onto the walls.
“That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “That wasn’t us.”
“Of course; that was the other Grafters, wasn’t it?” snarled the man. There were tears in his eyes, and his face was red. Odette felt a pinch all over her skin, as if the oil were tightening around her. “The ones that invaded my country and killed children.”
“I —” began Odette.
“But don’t you live forever?” said the man. “Hasn’t your boss been walking around for centuries?” There was a jolt under Odette, as if the seat had been jerked suddenly. Except that the man still had his arms folded. “Centuries.”
What do I do? she thought. If I attack him or scream for help, he might kill me. So stay still, she decided. Don’t do or say anything that might provoke him. Maybe someone will come. Maybe he’ll calm down.
“It might have been a long time ago,” said the man. “But we remember, and we pass the memory along.” He stared at her, and her skin prickled sharply.
That wasn’t my nerves, she thought. That’s him. She tried to lean back a little and found that it was difficult, as if she were wearing rigid clothing. She could practically taste the hate in the air. Her legs felt stiff, pinioned in her own skin and a shell of oil.
You’re holding my exterior, she thought. But there’s more to me than what you see.
She concentrated and engaged some nerves that were tucked away deep within her torso. The moment he brings violence, I am not going to pull any punches. Unless he calmed himself down, the man in the suit was going to be receiving a dose of venom that was normally found in the crural glands of the male platypus. It wasn’t fatal, but it was supposed to be excruciatingly painful.
That is, if he’ll even let me get a punch in. She felt as if she were being held in a vise, the oil gripping her.
“Pawn Korybut,” said a voice. A woman’s voice. With an effort, Odette turned her head. There stood the small figure of Rook Myfanwy Thomas.
“Rook Thomas,” said the man, Korybut, not taking his eyes off Odette.
“Stand down,” said the Rook. Her voice was calm, mild even, but under that cool tone was the promise of dire consequences if she was not obeyed.
There was a horrible pause as Odette was transfixed by Pawn Korybut’s gaze. There was no change in his eyes. The rage and madness didn’t grow fainter. There was simply a man who was deciding what mattered most to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said finally. Odette felt the prickling tightness on her skin easing, and she was suddenly able to slump.
“Now go,” said Rook Thomas. “You’re done for the day. It’s time to go home.” He picked up his briefcase and backed away. “You don’t talk about this to anyone, Pawn Korybut. You and I will discuss this tomorrow.” He nodded. Finally he turned and walked out the door. The goop, however, failed to mystically evaporate.
Odette buried her head in her hands; the oil squished on her palms and burned her eyes. It was not immediately clear, even to her, if she was crying. There were some gasping breaths and a fair amount of emotional turmoil, but no actual sobs. She looked up and saw Rook Thomas standing by her, looking sympathetic.
“I’m not crying,” said Odette, trying to muster up some dignity. “Whatever this stuff is, it’s in my eyes.”
“It’s everywhere,” said the Rook. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. I’d pat you comfortingly on the arm, but I don’t want that crap on me.”
“I can’t,” said Odette helplessly. “I can’t walk through the halls like this.”
“Oh, I’ve attended meetings looking far worse,” said Thomas dismissively. “No one will look twice at you.”
Persuaded by her practical tone and the fact that the liquid covering her was getting unpleasantly cold, Odette gingerly stood up, slipping a little on the floor. The Rook was staring, stony-faced, at the conference table. Odette looked down and saw several large cracks running through the wood. “Well, at least he vented most of his frustration on the furniture,” said Thomas. Odette shuddered. “Anyway, there are showers and spare tracksuits at the gym, so let’s get going.”
Rook Thomas led her, squelching, through the hallways of Apex House to the ladies’ changing room. There were more than a few curious glances, but Thomas ignored them, so Odette tried to do the same.
I’m making such a wonderful impression, she thought.
“Did — did you use your powers on that man Korybut?” she asked finally.
“No, that was just me being his boss,” said Thomas. “Although I would have.” She opened the locker-room door, peered in, and then gestured Odette through. “No one else is in there, and I’ll wait here in the hallway to make sure that you’re not disturbed. Tracksuits are on the shelves by the towels,” she advised.