Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,32

to get so hostile. Wolfe’s tone (in my head, the bastard still has a tone) was leering, taunting. Wolfe was paying you a compliment.

“I need your compliments like I need another mysterious enemy trying to kick my ass,” I said, flopping down. “Since I already acquired another of those today, I’ll pass on your ‘kind’ words.”

Poor little doll, whose life is aught but mysteries and lies, he said, almost soothing. So troubled, so sad, so...delicious. And how you feel about the agent is even more tasty.

“Go screw yourself.” I buried my head in the pillow.

There, there. What if Wolfe could make some of the mystery go away?

“Like you did with my mother? Thanks, but that turned out to be more mystery.”

Such a shame, Wolfe was going to tell you all about the man in the metal suit...

I raised my head up. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Wolfe snickered at my uncertainty. David Henderschott, age 58. He doesn’t look it, of course. He ages well, like powerful metas tend to. He was pretty too, before someone...He paused in his narrative and I could almost hear a squeal of excitement in my head...cut him up. Now he’s not so pretty anymore. Very strong, though.

“Why is he wearing armor?” I clutched my pillow in my hand. “To hide what you did to him?”

Wolfe laughed, a shallow, short bark. His skin can stick to whatever it touches. He used to use it to rip the flesh off his foes, but Wolfe taught him the error of his ways, oh yes he did. Now Wolfe would guess he’s scared to come out and play.

“Who does he work for?”

Tsk, tsk, little doll. What will you do for the Wolfe?

I smiled, but it wasn’t one of deep satisfaction. “I’m not doing a damned thing for you.” I flipped the switch by the bed that triggered the lights. “Night night.”

Oh, little doll...you’ll be sorry. Without another word, it was like he picked up and went to another corner of my mind and lay down. I had a vision of him, like the proverbial dog licking himself, and I got disgusted and tried to put it out of my mind.

Sleep was horrible, filled with a hazy nightmare. I walked over snowy fields into a building with brick sides and down long, yellowed corridors. I saw fire, blazing, hot, heard words spoken that I couldn’t understand, and then felt the wind at my face as I ran.

I awoke as an explosion flipped me into a snow bank.

I blinked in shock as I felt the damp cold slide down the back of my shirt for not even the first time today. I got my bearings and vaulted to my feet. There was noise behind me and I turned. I was standing in the middle of the campus, somewhere between the Headquarters and where the science building, where Dr. Sessions had kept his lab, had been only moments before.

There was still some of it left, but what there was happened to be covered in flames, the fire stretching up to the heavens. I ran toward the building and felt the heat wash over me the closer I got. The brick building had once been three stories; now only a few spots remained where more than a few feet of brick stood at a stretch. I wondered if anyone could have survived just as I saw a shadow moving around behind one of the walls.

I heard screaming, shrieks everywhere around me. The heat from the burning building was intense, the smell of smoke pungent and overpowering. I looked and saw others had come, flooding across the campus toward the site of the calamity. One of the screaming voices caught my attention; it came from within the burning building.

I moved toward the wreckage and jumped over the nearest wall. I felt my flesh start to char, smelled the flames and the tang of what I suspected was the first degree burns that were already causing my skin to redden. I saw a lone figure on the ground, scorched from head to foot and I reached out, grabbing hold of him and lifting him into my arms. I vaulted back over the wall and tried to carry him away from the building. A pitched squeal stopped me long enough to look down.

It was Dr. Sessions. I was carrying him like a baby in my arms, and I hurried away, not wanting to look at him, just trying to get away from the fire. The smell