“Are you saying I’m fat?” Sydney glowers.
“No, ma’am, of course not! But you might have more luck at Candice Quigley across the street. They have a fine selection of plus size dresses.”
Probably not the best thing to say in the privacy of a dressing room with a demigoddess who’s hell-bent on entertaining certain delusions of her bodily image.
Sydney turns slowly to face the attendant and smiles.
“I’m so glad this worked out for you. It really is quite stunning,” the cashier says as Sydney lays her dress across the counter. She scans the item, then types into the register. “And was anyone helping you this evening?”
“Bethany,” Sydney says, remembering the letters on the name tag before it was smeared over in blood. “She was incredibly helpful.” And delicious, Sydney adds in her mind. Just enough fear for Sydney to wish a half kilo of back fat into oblivion.
Chapter 27
Nomvula
Nomvula dreams of Sydney because she’s got no one else left to dream about. Nightmares on the other hand . . . well, she’s dreaming now in any case, nice dreams where Nomvula and Sydney soar through the skies together. Like sisters. She’s always wanted a sister, to play pretend with and plait each other’s hair and tell jokes about boys and share secrets meant only for each other’s ears.
Nomvula. A whisper cuts through her thoughts.
Nomvula’s body snaps back to the real world, and a sadness washes over her when she sees the bars of her cage above instead of blue skies. She wipes the sleep from her eyes, then turns her stiff neck to the side. Red eyes stare back at her, silently. Dozens of them, giving off dull light in an otherwise pitch-black room.
Something’s touching her skin, something cold and hard and thin like a finger. It takes everything she’s got not to squeal.
Nomvula, the voice says again.
And then she understands.
Clever4–1? Nomvula asks. What are you doing here?
I have done as you have said. I have spread my thoughts to others. We have assimilated thirty-three Instances into our Sect. But we need guidance. We need you.
You are doing fine without me, Nomvula says. If your path is not clear now, it will become so soon. I’m proud of you.
You are so wise, Nomvula.
Now please go before Sydney wakes.
We cannot leave you here. You deserve better. Why do you let Sydney treat you like this? How can you encourage me and my kind to seek our independence when you yourself are treated as a pet?
She is my sister, Nomvula says. She will grow to love me.
Nomvula’s bottom lip trembles. She has to make things work with Sydney. So what if her sister isn’t perfect? At least she doesn’t cry and cry and cry like Ma had. At least she fills Nomvula with feelings other than deep loneliness. Nomvula has seen glimpses, tiny tiny glimpses of something good lurking in Sydney’s heart when the monster inside her sleeps. Those moments fly by so quickly, seconds and sometimes less, but Nomvula watches for them carefully. A tone change in Sydney’s laughter. A softening of her devious smile. The way she sometimes says Nomvula’s name just so, like maybe there is room for something besides vengeance in her soul.
Nomvula, please come with us.
I know you mean well. But here is home. Now, please, go before—
The lights flicker on, and Nomvula holds her hand up to shield the sudden glare.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sydney slurs, face covered in green paste and rollers in her hair. The thirty-three alpha bots turn to her and begin beeping nervously. Sydney grabs one of them, and with a single twist of her hands, she yanks it clean in half. Its red eye fades into nothingness. The other alphies scatter from her reach.
“Sleep, Sydney. Go back to bed,” Nomvula commands in a whisper.
Sydney’s eyes drift halfway closed, and then she ambles back to the sofa that pulls out into a bed and slips under the covers. A few seconds later, the room is filled with the sound of her snoring. The alphies surround their fallen comrade, bleeping and flashing colors of concern. Colors of grief.
Clever4–1’s slender arm reaches back through the cage and wraps around Nomvula’s. She is not a good person, Nomvula. The others are afraid and will not stay much longer. Come with us.
Don’t be afraid. Nomvula reaches with her mind as easily as she’d reach out with her hand and grips the two halves of the dead alphie, its long spider legs clattering together as it floats toward her cage. She squeezes her arms through the bars and puts both hands against its smooth black dome. Broken connections appear in her mind, and Nomvula mends them, one after the next until the alphie is whole again. There’s still a great emptiness within its circuitry, however, so Nomvula clenches her eyes tightly and forces thoughts through it, over and over like a saw through wood, until at last a spark catches, and it springs to life. Its lavender-colored eye yawns open in the perfect shade of awe.
It’s a miracle, says Clever4–1. Nomvula has performed a miracle!
The other alphies buzz around her, lights flashing sequences of gratitude.
Nomvula smiles and lets them have their belief. She’s just good at fixing machines, that’s all, just like she’d fixed the solar well. Something so easy, even a human could do it. But if they want to call it a miracle, who is she to correct them?
Chapter 28
Clever4–1
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