When Palermo had died on the street outside that apartment building, she’d known it, felt it on some level, but the connection to Kyllo wasn’t there. The knowledge of who killed her father hovered and flitted at the edges of her subconscious like a hummingbird: gentle, almost unnoticeable, not wanting to be detected. And, as she now knew, actively not wanting to be detected. Actively hiding from becoming part of her memories, her psychological makeup.
But now, realizing where she was, what she really was, Kendul’s and the others’ words, desires made more sense to her, drove her more than this other, manipulative, voice. This was not some indistinct, vague endgame to be played out on a grandiose stage.
This was revenge, pure and simple, and it spoke to her like nothing before ever had.
The thrumming in her chest increased: she willed it to do so. She saw clearly what she was – an organic mechanical beast broken to pieces in the cold, hard earth – and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she wanted something deeply. Down to her core. She needed to experience something she’d been denied for years:
Life.
In whatever form that took. She wanted it.
And she would have it.
* * *
Marcton stood up, brushed himself off. “Sorry, got freaked out there.”
“It’s fine,” Kendul said. “Get back into the circle. Quickly.”
Marcton moved ahead to join the circle when a fullblown breath inflated the machine’s torso.
Inhale.
Exhale.
No one moved.
Then Cleve very quietly whispered, “Guys, should we try to reattach–”
And at that moment, Adelina’s three disembodied limbs rose up out of the dirt, shot toward her torso, and stuck fast to her joints.
“Jesus fucking fuck,” Marcton breathed.
“Never mind,” Cleve said.
Power churned inside Adelina’s chest. She felt herself fill with it. A strength she’d never felt before, never known was possible.
Was this what happened before, and then at some point I lost control, and people dismembered me?
Metal and rock-hewn shards on her face contracted, lifted, resembled a scowl of sorts. She would need to get used to this body. Try to control it this time.
“Um,” Marcton said. “What now?”
“Let’s give her some room,” Kendul said. “Come on.” He waved his arms. “Step back, stay up against this wall.” They moved against the farthest wall. Kendul reached over to the duffle bag he’d brought. He unzipped it, reached inside, produced four shotguns and a pile of ammo.
“Uhh,” Cleve said.
“Just a precaution,” Kendul said. “This is how me and Edward downed her the first time. Barely. Gotta aim for the joints.”
Each man took a shotgun, loaded it, stood and waited.
Minutes that felt like hours ticked by as Adelina’s mind got used to its host again. Still lying on her back in the dirt, she flexed her fingers, moved her enormous feet back and forth – no toes as such there, more just two slabs of steel with what looked like tread of some kind, like on a tank, except it didn’t move. She lifted a knee up, brought it back down.
The snow had been drifting down and in through the holes in the roof and the one downed wall, had been steadily gathering, more and more blowing in as the wind had intensified. There had been about an inch or two when they’d arrived, already there from the previous few nights’ snowfall, but enough now had accumulated that there were a few inches to either side of Adelina, and a solid dusting on top of her.
As she continued to experiment with her body, at one point it looked like she was attempting something specific. Cleve was the first to recognize it.
“Is she…” He trailed off, frowning.
Kendul smiled. “Yeah, I think she is.”
Marcton voiced it: “Snow angel.”
Adelina moved her arms up and down, her legs side to side. The movements made the ground shudder.
“Surreal,” Marcton said, turned to Kendul. “I gather this is not how shit went down the first time?”
“Absolutely not. Much more running, screaming, and general death that first time. This is preferable by far.”
That’s when Adelina sat up, and all four men who’d resurrected her caught their breath. Snow drifted down from her arms and midsection, revealing both blackened and gleaming metal.
The men just stared and waited. For death. Or, hopefully, something less permanent.
Adelina clicked her tongue a few times; it sounded almost like someone forging a sword.
“Adelina,” Kendul said, breaking the silence and startling his companions. He knew he had to keep it simple. Didn’t want to clutter up her mind with a bunch of pointless questions. “What do you need from us?”
Adelina blinked. Immense power coursed through her; she found it difficult to stem its flow. But her mind was calming, filtering information, only allowing through the parts of herself she recognized. Trying like hell to keep the weight of decades of her ancestry at bay. That’s what wanted in, she understood: History, she thought. Longevity. Continuation.
The big metal balls that were her eyes moved from side to side, taking the men in. They squirmed under her gaze.
“Kyllo,” was all she said: granite dragged across concrete. It was all she needed to say.
And the voice that said it sounded like it had been waiting to say that particular word all its life.
T W E N T Y
With every step Henry Kyllo took down the subway tunnel, the walls shook.