nerd coming to prod at me? Go fuck yourself, unless you have a key to this dump. What have you done with Kurt? I want to see him!”

“We’ll have to speak with Doctor Loy about that.”

“Tight-assed bitch gave the orders to lock us up.” There was a long pause before she spoke again. “You don’t sound like a nerd.” She paused again, as if weighing whether or not to let him in. Suddenly, she called out. “Let’s have a look at you, Doctor Asshole. Leave the baboon outside.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The sergeant, I can smell him out there.”

Joe eyeballed the rifle. The sergeant was just a little too eager to plug the subject, and scared or not, this was Joe’s opportunity of a lifetime. He released the intercom button. “I’m going in. Please wait here.”

The sergeant scratched his buzz-cut head, his face wrinkling up like confused Pekinese pup. “Can’t let you do that Doc.’’

“I don’t need you.”

“Doc, that thing’s not human. Hey, I was fooled too.” The sergeant leaned over to him and spoke confidentially, “She’s hot.”

Joe wasn’t really sure what that bit of information mattered. “Wait outside.”

“Doctor Loy said no one goes in there without an armed escort.”

“I’ll deal with Doctor Loy.”

The sergeant shook his head. “Whatever you say. Hit the buzzer if you need help. I’m right outside if she gives you any trouble.”

Joe opened the observation doors, stepping inside quickly as they slid closed behind him, snapping on the overhead fluorescents.

“Shut them, damn it!”

He snapped them off. “I can’t see in the dark.”

“Neither can I, asshole. There’s a lamp next to the door.”

He felt around for the lamp, nearly knocking it over with his shaking hands, and clicked it on. The room filled with soft, pinkish light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a surprisingly small figure lying hunched up by the restraints on a low bed in the center of the small cell.

“I can’t see you. They have my head restrained. Stand over here.”

Joe walked over to the bed, every muscle tense, just in case this was a trick. A scent perfumed the air, like musk, a hint of sex in the bouquet. Bizarre. She was on her side, straight jacketed and strapped securely in a fetal position. He relaxed slightly. They’d put a leather mask over her face, like a muzzle, obviously to prevent biting. A pair of glittering, dark, almond-shaped eyes swept over him.

“Well, this is definitely more like it. You’re the prettiest nerd I’ve ever seen— Dr. Asshole.”

“Ansari. My… ” he faltered, “My name is Ansari.”

“Mmm, love a little taste of you.”

The room grew hotter, his skin clammier. He loosened buttons on his polo shirt. Insistent pounding started in his head. Ignoring the comment, he set down his bag on the bed. “Dr. Rider was in?”

She replied in a breathy whisper. “He left rather abruptly. Aren’t you afraid?”

He chose his words carefully. “I’d rather not end up like Dr. Rider.”

“You’re already points ahead of that myopic toad. I like the way you look.”

He pulled a pen out of his pocket. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Get me out of the S&M gear and we’ll see.”

His shirt was drenched now. A chill passed over him as the air conditioning kicked on. He weighed the probabilities. She wouldn’t cooperate with the restraints. But could he trust her if he released her? Panic gripped his chest. She might kill him. If he didn’t release her, the interview was at an end.

“At least take off this mask,” she breathed. “I promise I don’t look as horrible as I sound.”

He made his decision and began unfastening the strap holding her neck down, hands trembling. The buckle caught in her thick, dark hair. He worked to unsnarl it as if it was one of his twin daughters’ barrettes. Who knew if she felt pain? It was the most nerve-wracking task he’d ever performed— like a cop on the bomb squad felt sent in to disarm an explosive. He kept expecting her to break free of the straps and strangle him. Finally he worked the metal free from her hair and removed the mask. He wasn’t prepared for the sight.

How could something so foul look so… well… pure? Her face was pretty, but not in the conventional, All-American way but in the timeless fashion of a renaissance Madonna, a Leonardo, disturbing in its apparent youth and innocence. Its porcelain skin was smooth, framed by the somewhat short, dark hair. Her cheeks were round and pinkish, and the smallish mouth like an