All The Time, All The Time

So you take her down off the mantel, and before the sun's really up, just blue-gray on the horizon— reflecting off her, the blade you've never had to clean or sharpen—you stumble from your home. And with your bare feet in the early spring dirt and your bare hand on the leather wrap of her grip, she talks to you again. Denies the dream. Won't admit she's doing it on purpose. Pretending like she isn't the one doing this to you. Playing coy.

Someone sees you, and you see him back. You know him. You always know them. You actually live here, in this shithole town where no one asks that many questions. He nods at you, the gesture of something small and dumb and dead. He hasn't seen your state, not yet. Half dressed and wild eyed with sleep deprivation. Naked sword in your practiced hand.

Haven't had a good fight in a decade. Still true, this guy isn't fighting you. Slip her into him, feel the POP of the skin and fat, the slick glide of the intestines, the clattering of bone and it's already over.

Wrench her up! Tear him open! She's happy. She's there with you.

"Good girl."

You say it into her pommel, which happens to be next to the guy's ear. If he was listening, he dies very confused, but it was just a little dirty talk.

They'll find him in the morning and say he got robbed. Or a scuffle gone wrong. One of his buddies, probably. Or some drifter from somewhere else. Always goes that way. The men who don't know their jobs are to clean up your messes will nod at you in the morning as you pass by on your walk to the docks. Just like he did.

She's back on your mantel for not quite a week before it all starts up again. Not dreams this time, but hauntings. Things thrown and dropped. Odd noises in the dark. Fucking brat.

Good's never good enough for her, is it? She always wants more. Fine. You can give her a little more. Start wearing her around. Show off your jewelry. Invite someone to really try you. And they do. They always do. Can't throw a rock in this world without hitting someone looking to prove anyone can best a swordswoman.

You're at the bar when the rock hits home. He's drunker than you are, face red with it, and his buddies are all behind him jeering while he prods at you. Like you need the provocation. You've been shivering with glee since you saw him stand up. Next time he touches you, you bite him. He's a bleeder, barely nipped at the skin and you're covered in the stuff.

"Jealous?" you ask her, tucked neatly in her scabbard. Now that the idea's struck you, the whole thing lays itself out so neatly in your mind. You throw a punch. She doesn't feel anything. You knock one of his teeth out. She's biting at the leather you've got her in. You break his arm and claw at his eyes and she stays exactly where you have her. She gets to play the cuckold and it's delicious to deny her.

Until one of his dumbshit friends grabs her right from under your nose. Too busy chewing your food? He's a scrawny kid but he's got a good few scars to show for himself, and he's holding her not without any skill.

And-

This is so much better. God she's so fucking hot like that. You can take care of him easily enough, but halfway through dodging and weaving around his swings, you realize what's happening. She's fucking helping him. You're fighting her.

Its good, it's so good. Like having the bitch back from the dead, she can turn even this pimplefaced idiot into her avatar. You shoot the cartilage of his nose up into his skull and he falls into a heap. Didn't even know that could really happen, but it does and you can feel her squirming when you do it.

She got you, once. A little line of pink flesh is poking out from under your eye. It's going to scar nasty. You'll have to get her back for it. Soon enough, you do. Same routine, new bar. Pick a fight with the biggest group of men you see, wait for one of them to take her and then make sure you're the only two people left standing.

She plays dirty. Knows all your tics. It's heaven. She's alive every time you fight her. You're young as long as she's facing you down.

Until you're not. Someone gets you with a chair to the shoulders. Shouldn't faze you, and it's not like he didn't get what he had coming, but… but it takes you months to recover enough to go back out. Then someone hits it again, a year later. Same spot. With a metal pipe. Reopens all the old wounds, and doubles the old pain. She has to intervene, and the guy holding her slips suddenly, impaling himself and his pipe wielding friend in the fall.

You both reach the same conclusion on the limping walk home. This can't go on any longer. You're not keeping up with her. She visits you in your dreams again, this time to soothe you. It breaks something deep in your guts, this kindness from her. Feels to final. Shatters itself and tears you open. The fear you hadn't felt since you were a teenager. Death. Looming over you. Can't bear to lose this. Lose your nights together.

She's got an idea. Just have to find the right instrument.

"And you'll inset the hilt with this." You hand the blacksmith a jewel. "Doesn't even have to be visible, just has to be in there."

"Looks all scratched up," he squints at the near imperceptible script you've carved into the surface of the jewel. That's half the work done, there. The easy half, she reminds you from your hip. You tell her that she had you to do the hard part for her, the little princess.

"Just do it. I'm sure paying you more than enough. Then once it's ready, I want you to wrap it in this," you hand him the cloth. It's stained deep brown with your dried blood. The blacksmith's face pales. "And burn it. while it's still over the blade."

He looks at the money you're paying him, in advance, and then back to you. Wonder if he knows what you're planning?

Two weeks and three days later, it's ready. You watch him burn the wrap. Has his assistant do it. No one talks. There's nothing left to say. You pull the sword out of the ashes—still hot, it burns the skin off your hand, not that that matters anymore—and give the blacksmith a tip. It's more than what you paid in the first place.

"Well then." You were never good with words. "Got a will in my pocket."

Awkward angle, but it'll work.

Trachea to Tits to Navel to Crotch. It's a wonderful sword. Practically cut yourself in two with one swing. Then you're dying. Real fast, the world's spinning around you. Around and around. She's there with you, arm in arm, you're both young again and everything's so beautiful.

Now you've a metal body, rigid and sharp and drinking up the last of your own blood. The swap is instant. You're like her now. And she's there with you. You laugh, but only she hears you. The blacksmith's screaming.

They find your will right where you said it'd be. Pretty simple stuff, you think.

"Give one of my swords to the strongest person left in town. Give the other to the second strongest." Everyone's hesitant, but you're the real deal, a legend by this point, so they do it. Now all that's left is a little nudging from her and you, and soon you'll get to fight again.

"The older ones are further back, if you're interested, Dr. Fanu." My research assistant guides me to look past the goth and deeper into the shadows of the ravine. "Styles adapt to the times. One of the biggest mysteries, honestly, who's styling them. The oldest living specimen is in a cave along the red catwalk. You'll find her under reports labeled 'Lili.' She's totally nude except for tattoos. Little marks all over her. Like Otzi."

"Thank you, Carmen." She rubs my back, little static shocks jolting between us. The goth witch rolls her head and shifts her weight to her other foot. "Shouldn't they be in cages?" Loose predatory animals were not what I was expecting. They might mimic human shapes (right down to its perfect ass) but they're closer to insects than us.

"They're ambush predators, Dr. Fanu. Smart ones at that. As long as no one gets too close, they won't strike. Don't show any fear or interest, and they won't even approach you. Conservation of energy is the name of the game."

Somewhere under the brim of that hat, waiting feelers grow heavy, coating themselves with acid.

Late at night, I wake in my bed and look out the plexiglass window of the semi-permanent cabin that Carmen has set me up in. The floodlights in the distance were obscured by something. I pull out my phone, ready to record it for the security team. My phone's camera tries to adjust to the dark, and I see what's blocking my window. Static and still. Face pressed to the glass. Expression mournful, yet full of hope. Movie perfect tears streak through its makeup. The goth witch. The facility's logging system calls it 14-3. It's watching me, like a lover come calling in the night. Makes my skin crawl. Makes me want to let it in. They can sense my weakness, can't they? I'm weak to the allure of something so dangerous and so beautiful. Always have been, even when it ends up hurting me.

If Carmen, or any of the guards see her there, they'll know. There's a reason they don't staff men at this facility. Too many embarrassing accidents for the government to cover up. And I never made my dating history public. Kept it under wraps, good ole' don't ask don't tell. I can not afford to lose this job. I don't have anything to go back to.

The manual on safe handling is very clear: do not touch the witches unless you absolutely have to. Only in very fine print do they say how: Above the brim, or below the knees. Anything else is asking for trouble. It's taller than me by a good six inches, and the brim is higher than that. So I'm stuck crawling around in the dirt, trying not to look up its skirt, slowly, painfully moving it away from my cabin. This thing is strong, and it does not want me to move it, but it doesn't step forward again when I do manage to gain a few inches. This is so embarrassing. Got to stay out of the light, away from cameras. I'm covered in dirt and sap and to anyone who saw us it'd look like I was throwing myself at its feet. They'd think I'm some kind of pervert.

It's not wearing panties, and unlike the mouth, it seems to have a perfect grasp of what should be there. Goddammit.

Someone screams. Metal rending sounds echo through the ravine. Except it isn't metal. It's witch on flesh and bone. The sound of breaking. I scramble away from my stalker and run towards the sound. Security's beat me to it. Three armed guards stand, rifles pointed at the writhing thing. Wide brim brought down over the witch and the victim alike, like smothering, ribbed latex. I know from the reports that the writhing isn't the victim. It's the witch. Whoever was stupid enough to get too close has already had their neck snapped, probably dead.

"Jesus," says the head of security, half out of uniform. Perri Fontaine, I think her name is. "We have the footage yet?"

"I have it, one second," Carmen says, appearing suddenly, tapping furiously at her tablet. She's in shark print pajamas. I pretend like I can't see her nipples through the top.

"What happened to you?" asks Perri, looking me up and down. Looking like shit.

"I slipped running over." Keep my head high.

"Here." Carmen turns the tablet out to face us. In grainy security camera footage, I see a woman in a guard uniform walk up to one of the witches. "Is this one of ours?" Perri shakes her head. An imitator. The woman approaches the witch, one in a classical witchy dress, all black ankle length skirts and flowing sleeves. She reaches out to it, tentative hand an inch away from the witch's face. It's… talking to her? Moving its lips certainly, and she's responding like it's talking. She takes a hesitant step forward, hand making contact with its face. I'm expecting it to snap shut then, but instead she's able to pull back, breathing heavy.

Perri clicks her tongue. "There it is. Too late now." On the video, the woman is nodding along at whatever the witch is saying. She looks wobbly, like she's drunk.

"What's happening?" I ask.

"The mimicry skin is coated in an intoxicant." Perri answers, quick like I'm quizzing her. "A single touch and you're flying higher than a kite. Susceptible, aroused, and uninhibited. That is half the reason we're here, right? Why so much money's pouring in. Any number of agencies wants us to synthesize that. Now she's probably going to… yep." The woman is kissing the witch now. Grinding her self against it. A single touch. I look at my hands. Pulling and touching and yanking the goth one for minutes. Probably a hundred touches and I don't feel anything. I think. Certainly not like her, shoving that thing's tongue as far down her throat as she can get.

Fuck it's hot. Desperate for touch, for pressure. All higher thought, just, gone. Need replacing it. Need. Need. Need. But I'm not feeling it. Finally, the witch wraps its arms around the woman, and the hat snaps shut, too quick for the camera to capture the movement. I remember the sound. Sweet death.

Carmen flips the tablet back to herself in a blur. She's muttering something, low and sweet, out of place at a death, but comforting. I don't know how to feel. Scared, relieved, angry, humiliated. I should have died right alongside the not-security guard. It should have been me tasting it, I wouldn't have been so tame. A little grinding for her life? I'd have made it really count. But instead, I'm alive and unaffected. Okay, maybe not completely unaffected, I can admit it, but nowhere near the amount that the woman in the video was. I'm not stupid enough to actually try anything.

"Starvation rations for this one. For… one month, Dr. Fanu?" Carmen's looking at me.

"Uh," I gulp. Mouth's dry.

"I can send everyone the files we have on their movement, since when they feed they get so much more adventurous. We keep them sedate through a rigorously maintained feeding schedule."

"Will one of you go put on some fucking coffee?" Perri snaps. A guard salutes her and runs off to the office building. "Gonna be up all night figuring out how she snuck in."

The witch has stopped squirming. Carmen tugs on my arm, eyes glued to the blood spilling down the exposed pairs of legs. "Come on, Lauren. It's about to release. You really don't want to see or smell that up close." I let her lead me back to my cabin. Her touch feels electric, whatever effect the toxin is or isn't having on me makes Carmen radiate warmth. I want to scoop her into my arms and tear off her shirt. Jesus. I'm supposed to be a doctor, here for research. This isn't summer camp. Cool down.

Carman puts her hand on my cheek, like the woman to the witch, and says, "are you alright? You seem a bit flush." Her gaze is intense, quizzical and focused. She locks the door to my cabin. I can still see the goth witch from the window, a dozen yards away. There's dirt on her legs, hand prints. Carmen looks too. I think I see a smile break through her scowl. Just for a moment. "Doctor, I saw you. With that witch."

"What?" I say, like playing dumb is going to work.

"Don't worry. I deleted the footage, but it was visible on the camera feed. You touched her, and you're still standing here. Like it was nothing. How do you think that is? How are you alright?"

There has to be a way out of this. "I'm not into women."

"Bullshit. Doesn't matter besides, you'll hump a log after a dose of that stuff." She's looking at me so intensely. "We've lost the last four biologists in your position, have you heard that? All dead or 'missing.'"

"Maybe I'm immune. It's not impossible, we know so little about them." I'm sweating.

"How do you feel?" She's too close. I can smell her. Sleep and lingering perfume, sweat and metal.

"I feel," like I want to bite down hard on her neck just to hear her squeal, "fine. A little woozy, I suppose."

"Not like you want to… go to them? That was an uncontrolled dose."

"I don't want to die," I scoff. How long will this stuff last? Carmen nods, slow and considered. She asks if I need anything from her. I say that I do not. It takes all my willpower. She leaves. I am alone.

It's maybe four A.M. Perri is still in her office, scrubbing footage and making reports. Carmen's off… wherever she sleeps. I can't make it through the night like this. The cold air on my skin is too stimulating. I need release. And none of the humans here will give it to me. But I'm smart. An expert. I can do this, I'm not an idiot. I'll feel so much better after a good fuck. At the least, I wont soak my panties so much. God. This is so stupid.

There's rope in the supply sheds. Good sturdy rope. And the roof of my cabin is suspended by beams that are made of aluminum, or steel, or something metal. Something I can use to my advantage. There's gloves in with the supplies too. So I can set things up with a clear head. The goth is where I left her. Maybe it's just my imagination but her dress looks even more sheer. Might as well not be there at all.

Lasso her by the hat, lead her like cattle back to my cabin. Stay in the shadows. The moon's dipped below the trees. It's darker now than before. I'm not seen.

Get her inside. Stand her in a circle of rope attached to the ceiling. Pull it tighter and tighter, higher and higher. It hangs around her eyes. I wet my lips. Moment of success, or failure?

"In, in the video," I whisper to her. "You were talking. Not you, you. The other one. Can you speak?" I'm not even looking her in the eyes when I say it. "Can you actually feel any of it? Does it feel good? Do you want this?"

She looks at me. Opens her mouth. Her tongue rolls out. Too big. Just big enough. Made for this. I pull the rope tight. it catches on her forehead, then slips up over the hat. The brim lifts. It looks painful. I pull tighter. She whines, takes a step back, so I yank. The brim snaps up, tight to the hat. I put on the gloves. Secure the brim. Secure her to the ceiling. My prisoner, my would be killer. She's really squirming now, trying to get free. Can't see. These eyes aren't her eyes. Then I touch her. The brim flaps uselessly. She stills, like she knows what I need.

Something so like us, nearly identical to the touch, the look, even the fashion. It can't be stupid. None of them are animals. She's beautiful, she's not of this world, and she knows what I want. She knows she can give it to me. Her hand reaches out for mine. Guides me to the neckline of her shitty paper dress. It oozes when I rip it apart. Perfect tits. Perfect body. All fucking mine. Yeah, I'm feeling it again. Harder this time. When did I take off the gloves? Or start straddling her? Who cares, she's still securely tied up.

Shit, if I'm already up here I might as well put her to work. Get the drug inside of me. Everywhere she touches is on fire. The feeling doubles, triples, roils and blanks my mind with ecstasy. Crawl up her body until her head's between my thighs. Don't remember when we got on my bed. Too impatient to wait I grind on her face 'til she figures out what I want. And she does. She might not want to talk but she knows how to use that tongue.

I'm so close. I'm so close. I'm so close. I—

Morning. I shudder awake, every muscle tensing. My heart's racing, I can still feel its tongue inside of me, hands on my ass, nails digging in.

Carmen's in my bed. She turns to face me, smiling sweetly.

"Hey, you're up. Feeling any better?" When did she get here? Where's the goth? Shit, did she catch me again? Fix my mistake? I don't remember. Why is it so hard to keep my head on straight? Was it a dream? What if I was higher than I thought, and started hallucinating? Yeah, that had to be it. There's no way that just tying up the hat would work. That'd be too easy, anyone could do that. Carmen bites her lip. "Thank you for letting me stay here last night. I hate it, when people die. It's stupid, I know. Shouldn't work here if I can't handle it." She squirms up to a sitting position, blanket falling around her. The morning sun's bright through the windows.

"Um…"

"Oh, right. Your camera. We equip each room with a microphone and camera for security purposes, ever since we had a guy camp out in one last year and we didn't know for a month. Don't worry though, since this is your room, you have complete control over the footage. No one can even see it unless there's an incident. What I mean is, if you could erase the evidence that I slept in here, I would really, really appreciate it. With how strict they are about… you know, lesbians and all that, it wouldn't look good. If you know what I mean." She's blushing. Part of me feels like it's an act, teasing me.

"Right." Camera. In my room. "I can do that."

"Thank you, thanks so much, Dr. Fanu, uh, Lauren. Really." She hugs me. "I just, I come from such a touchy family, and I used to be so close to my sister, but obviously she can't be here, and I understand the rules about intimacy, but that doesn't make it not hard, you know?"

She clears out with only a few dozen more thank you's. I sit in my bed, staring at my tablet, sore like I did get fucked last night, head still reeling from the toxin, and open the playback app. There's only one file, last night.

I leave the room to go shove the goth around at 12:34. The commotion with the imposter guard starts at 12:51, I can hear the sounds of people shouting in the distance. At 1:11, Carmen enters, me in tow.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit flush."

"I'm fine."

"Doctor, I, uhm, I saw you with that witch."

"What?" I even look high, swaying a little.

"Don't worry. I deleted the footage, but it was visible on the camera feed. You… you touched her, but you're still standing here. Like it was nothing. How? How are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"You're really feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I feel pretty normal." Is this how it went? "How are you doing, Carmen?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine. It happens. The… dying."

"Are you used to it?" I didn't say that.

"I wouldn't say that. Exactly. No. I don't want to be. That'd be terrible, I think."

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" Have I ever sounded that caring? Why don't I remember this?

"…Yep. I'll be… I'll be fine."

"You can stay here tonight, if you need to."

"I couldn't." So bashful.

"I don't bite."

She laughs at me. I change into a clean pair of pajamas. She politely turns the other way. Doesn't even peek. We climb into bed, chaste. Don't think we even touch. I thought she did, though? Touched my cheek. No, it's not there. I fall asleep first. She stays sitting for a few minutes, then goes to sleep herself. Nothing happens until 6:57, when I startle awake and she asks me to delete this footage.

I save a local copy, then delete it from the server. It was a dream. I did not fuck the witch. It didn't happen. The weakness I feel in my legs is because of the adrenaline, from watching someone die last night. That's a good explanation. It's a new job, a new shitty bed, which I shared with a stranger. That's why my hips hurt.

One of the security guards stops me on my way to get breakfast. It's Perri's second in command. I've forgotten her name. She's tapping a pen against a clipboard in agitation. "Hey, doc," she barks. "Did you take forty feet of rope, and a pair of gloves? They're missing, and no one's checked them out. We have a system for a reason, you know."

"I didn't take them." I did. I didn't. The video proves I didn't. Even if I remember it. Something's wrong.

"Not what I was hoping to hear." Me neither.

I'm making morning rounds, counting all the witches, noting any oddities, when Perri joins me. She looks worse than I feel. There's dirt under her fingernails, and bags under her eyes. "Just finished with the body." I don't envy her job. "No I.D. Again. Whatever whacko freak on YouTube is telling these people to come without any form of identification is going to fucking get it one of these days." Niko-W1tch-Supremecist. That's the youtuber. Too annoying and political for me. Tells people to use protest tactics like they're applicable in every scenario. Wonder if she knows her work has a body count. I don't tell Perri about any of that. There's something else on my mind.

"Did the last four biologists really all die?" I remember Carmen saying that. It's not in the video.

"You hear about about that too? Damn. Yeah, they did, apparently. Well, it wasn't the witches. Don't worry. They just… couldn't deal. Two killed themselves. Two disappeared. Never found their bodies. Carmen, I heard, was the optimist, and she believed that they just ran off and were living happy lives somewhere. Guess not." She sighs. Points at my checklist. "Who's next."

"18-7. 'Classy.'" All of the witches have nicknames. Even the goth, 14-3, is called Lydia. I checked her first. She was fine. Almost exactly where I left her.

"Oh. You met her last night. She'll be moving around after her meal. Lemme see." She whips out a radio. "Fontaine for all. Eyes on Classy?"

"South Duck Pond," the radio squawks. Perri grunts and starts walking. "Follow me." We find 18-7 waist deep in the pond, stooped to look down at the stony bottom. It looks almost like she's fishing. The guards watching it look annoyed. "Yeah, we can come back to this one. Likes to stare at her own reflection. Snapped at it once." She leads me back onto the trails. "You done Lili yet?" I haven't. "Let's see her next. She doesn't go nowhere."

The deepest part of the ravine hides caves. Shallow, wet ones, but caves nonetheless. One of these has been fenced off and lit up. A dozen cameras watch every conceivable angle. 01-1 waits inside. Lilith. It's squatted against the far wall of the cave, completely naked, fatter than the other witches. Criss-cross marks cover its joints and neck. Wild hair falls to blunt ends. Her hat is more rounded than any of the others. The brim is wider. Long teeth hang from the very edge. Its eyes are huge. Truly bug like bulges on the hat. The mimic eyes follow me as I approach.

"Morning, Lili," Perri says when she's finished checking the cameras.

Lili licks its lips and speaks. "Good morning, commander." It shocks me, such an old voice coming from this beautiful thing. "Two more days until I'm fed, and yet you bring me a feast?"

"They can talk?" I blubber. Wish I'd read the reports. Why haven't I? Or…

"Just Lili. We're not sure if it's age or-"

"or just that I am special," Lili says. "This is pretty meat commander, well worth a closer inspection." It stands. Takes a step. "You seem so delicious, I can smell—oh. Oh." It sniffs the air Returns to its spot. "Never mind."

Perri sighs. "As you can see, she's smart, mobile, and dangerous. A guard is always stationed close by, let them know when you're going to interact with Lili."

"I've no interest in other's things, commander."

"What does it mean by that?"

"You can't expect coherence. It's still an animal, doctor."

I'm having trouble focusing. Details slide off the page, ink spills into my lap. What was I even doing? Some report for… some agency. I'll come back to it later. Carmen's resting her head on my shoulder, e-reader bouncing in her hand, forgotten page foretelling an apocalypse of elves. Lucky her, she finished her reports an hour ago. Her spare hand is touching my thigh. The intimacy makes me feel like a creep. She's getting such obvious relief from this, but it's only riling me up.

"What'd you think?" Of what? I couldn't listen. "Of Lili," Carmen finishes.

"She talks. I didn't know that they could talk." No one ever said so. Oh, plenty of people think that they're intelligent, but they all seem to agree—if the internet and rumors in a biology lab can be said to agree on anything—that the witches are incapable of speech. But I spoke to one. It was cogent. Mostly. Hell, for how old it must be, speaking modern english like that is a miracle.

The paper screen of the e-reader goes dark. No wonder I can't see what I'm working on, the sun's gone down and the only light is now sitting inert Carmen's lap. Too distracted. My eyes are slow to adjust. Everything gets shuffled off my bed. Guess she's staying the night again. I fall back, but she's adamant I get changed. "At least out of your dirty work clothes, please." I'm stripped down to my underwear before Carmen's satisfied. Hanging branches scrape against the roof.

I'm trying to sleep, really, but it's warm. The sheets are sticking to me, and my mostly bare skin against Carmen's is panic-inducing hot. Two minutes ago, she rolled to face me. Buried her head in my chest, murmuring something sweet. Heavy sleeper. My arms are around her. Are we the same height? She feels smaller than me. She won't wake up if I pull her a little closer, shift my weight under her, cradle her in my arms. On top of me, in my embrace, slow, hot breathes curl up my neck. Her shirt's pulled up, exposing more skin. I want to reach up, I want to touch her, I want her.

Suddenly, it's late, the quietest, darkest part of night. Carmen's gone. I didn't feel her slip away. The door opens. My keys jingle in the lock. It's her, still half dressed, hand in hand with the goth. Lydia. Carmen leads her to the bed, sits her delicately on the edge of it. Lydia smells like sex and almonds. I want to reach out to her, to feel her again. Never got to bite at those perfect tits.

"Nuh uh," Carmen breathes. "Be patient." Her fingers push into Lydia's mouth, explore her teeth. She giggles, and smears the saliva on my face. She says, "to tide you over, since your tolerance is so high these days," then pulls my bag out from under the bed. My things spill out onto the floor. Doesn't matter. This must be a dream.

Next bag. My clothes scatter round the room. Something heavy falls out last. A machete. My machete. A stupid going-away present from… a friend. Some kind of amicable gesture. Carmen picks it up. Hefts the weight. "I'd have preferred shears, but this will do."

Lydia's slammed onto the ground. Her brim folds at painful angles. "There's only so much you can do with rope, Dr. Fanu." She points the knife down, at Lydia's face.

I'm reminded of a video. Didn't last long before it got taken down from all the usual sites. Even pornhub.

A witch, not one I recognize, bruised and twitching on the ground. The camera's shaky, but kitchen scissors come into view. The cameraperson cuts into the brim. Meat on metal. The witch writhes. It moans. (Evidence of a fake, they can't speak.) The brim's in pieces, flapping and spilling black blood. Forceful snips around the skull, and the brim is gone. The scissors fall away. A hand, a hand I now recognize, shoves itself onto the witch's face. Fingers round its neck. Pitch like blood smeared over its face, her hand. Then it cuts. The end.

I didn't think it was real.

It's happening right in front of me.

My body is stuck. Rooted in place. My mouth is watering. Part of me wants to know, does her blood intoxicate too? Carmen makes the last cut, awkward with such a large knife. Rough job. Lydia's no danger now. Carmen comes to me, gets behind me, sits me up. Her legs wrap around me, her mouth is on my ear. Something sticky and dark rubs off wherever she touches me. Fingers explore my mouth, too. The world is spinning. Lydia lifts herself off the floor like a marionette. Gangly limbs that have never taken a step before. This is a dream. This is fine. Lydia climbs on top of me, straddling me. Her skin on mine. Without the brim, she's safe, but less human than ever. Blinking blood out of her eyes. She kisses me. Rubs herself against me. Carmen's hands grope at me. I'm beyond myself. A mess of nerves, each one lit like a firework. I never want this dream to end. It feels too real. Carmen bites down on my neck. Scrapes her teeth against me, pulls my head around to kiss her while Lydia replaces her at my neck. I taste blood. Mine. Lydia's. Carmen's? This is barely more than dry-humping, but I feel tension start to build in my stomach. Everything's red. Lydia's dress come off. I rip at her fishnets. Curl my fingers inside of her. "Lauren," she moans, impossible. Bite at her breasts. Try to leave my mark on her skin. I'm getting closer. Carmen's sucking on my neck, her hand is crawling across my torso. Playing with the band of my panties. She dips beneath and—

The door slams open, lock broken, flashlights blinding. The world goes sideways. People are shouting. Plastic snaps. I hit my head. Cold metal. Hot blood. Lydia's still with me. Her fearful eyes are all I can focus on. Until she's gone too. Gloved hands press into my shoulders. Perri's voice. It calls me back to reality. I'm against the far side of the cabin. There's a hole torn into the wall.

I've been thrown across the room. "Where would she go?" Perri keeps asking, but they already took her. She's not dangerous anymore, not without the brim. "Where is Carmen?"

Carmen?

"This is a dream." We're walking the ravine, my boots aren't tied. "This isn't real." They gave me a gun. I half-assed all my weapons training. "Carmen isn't…"

"She is. I should have figured it out weeks ago. You've been so out of it." Perri is with me, searching for Carmen.

"Have I?" The toxin doesn't effect me like other people. I can shake it off.

"Ever since you had the flu, sure." Where's Lydia?

"I had the flu?"

"You were bedridden for a week. You don't remember?" No, I don't. I just got here. Its been… days. At most. "No, Lauren, you've been here for two months. Same as me. We were even on the same bus. You really don't remember?"

"18-7. She ate someone."

"That was a month ago. I think she's been dosing you. Who knows how long. Maybe the whole time."

Carmen's on top of me, sitting on my chest. We're both naked. I can feel how wet she is. She's got something in an oral syringe. She's telling me to try it.

"They give us all kinds of access to fun drugs, you know, for research purposes. And this is a boring job, really. Just checking on docile animals. Looking but not touching. I know how hard that is. I've been doing the same thing." she squeezes out the syringe into my mouth. Doesn't leave any for herself.

"You've only been here two months?" Perri seemed like such a permanent fixture.

"Same as you, like I said. Most of the staff is new, they get rotated out. Only… only Carmen stays. She's been here since the facility was created. Actually," she pulls out her radio. "Check Dr. Spielsdorf's old cave maps. I remember the target saying something about her wanting to build stations down there." Carmen. A target.

The radio clicks. We walk in silence. I'm trying to clear my head. Lydia. There she is. With two of Perri's guards, walking towards us. One of them gave her their jacket. It's big enough to cover her. She looks odd, pointed hat and military jacket. The remaining hat looks shriveled. She's been crying. Her fishnets hang loose. The spiderwebs around her eyes are streaked. Her lipstick is gone. Wasn't that permanent? Perri confers with her girls, and Lydia hugs me. She's careful not to make skin contact. She removes a pair of gloves from the pockets of the jacket and slips them on to take my free hand.

"Only caught her because of Lydia. Carmen's been using her, extracting the toxin, running little tests." Lydia squeezes my hand. "She's been coming to my cabin, at night while everyone's asleep. She spoke to me. Just a few words." Perri rubs at her eyes. "You never figured out why some of them can talk, did you? No? Whatever. She warned me, but I didn't listen. Thought it was nonsense. That's what Carmen's always saying. It's what you said too. Like a parrot. It doesn't mean anything. I dismissed it, but it stuck in my head. Started watching her, everywhere she went. And the footage from last month? The impersonators? Someone deleted the footage, but I got one of the girls to recover it. Carmen let them in. Them, plural. She… took one somewhere, the cameras didn't follow."

The witches have gathered. They stand like the trees, before Lilith's cave. The guards go first into the throng, Lydia and I bring up the rear. None of the witches move. We're surrounded.

"Probably the old caves," Perri opens a map on her tablet. Drawings map out a series of tunnels, deep underground. I go to lean over and look, but someone shouts.

"WATCH YOURSELVES!" Lili yells from inside.

A guard goes flying, something too quick to understand whipping around her, throwing her. Then it's gone.

She hits a witch. Its hat snaps shut.

"YOU UPSET THE MONSTER!"

"Keep moving," Perri hisses.

The gate to Lili's enclosure has been blasted open. She's standing just inside. Her body's tense. A coiled spring.

"Out at last to scour the parasite? Good luck. The predecessor of your predecessor could not do the same."

"I'll bring the whole force of the military down on her if I have to." Perri starts bashing the butt of her gun against the cave wall, looking for a cover-up.

"They will refuse. Do you believe the force of power lies with you? The parasite knows it lies with her. Value. Value drives this new world. The things your Value Hungry systems want from me and my sisters, it wants more than it cares for you. Any of you. The parasite is smart, understands these things. Make progress, and she can feed freely. Shame I had not the wherewithal to do so myself. The parasite uses us to disguise the danger she poses. Things of a kind, we are. Hers psychological. Mine psychoactive. Hers blood. Mine body."

Lydia squeezes my hand.

Perri breaks through the stone facade.

Carmen is there behind it. Face a contorted horror. She sweeps an arm, and Perri goes flying into Lili. Lili's brim flexes but does not shut. Centuries of control. The last guard, Carmen beheads. Bare handed, one to brace against her shoulder, the other to pull. Her sharp teeth glisten while she holds the severed head above her, drinking like wine the viscera she's created.

"Inside. The heart of her. Run it through," says Lili, moving fast. She grapples Carmen, brim slamming over them both. Carmen yowls, inhuman, and pushes back.

Perri's on the ground. She's well covered, but did she touch Lili? Yes, she's clutching at her cheek. I can't leave her, not with so many witches outside. Lydia lets go of my hand and drops to her knees. Places a gloved hand on Perri's shaking body. Looks at me.

"You won't… um?" I ask, like I have any claim to her. Lydia looks at me like it was offensive to even ask. Something's different in her, that wasn't there before. What has Carmen done to her, too? Mobile, emotive, intelligent. Like everything I've lost. There's no time to figure it out. I run for the cave.

Memory has been trickling back into my head. Sharing a cigarette with Perri at a rest stop, still hours away from the ravine. How did I forget that I smoked? Carmen… she doesn't like it. Always went the other direction whenever Perri had one lit. I spent my first month here mostly in the lab, working with enzymes. I don't know which of the plain prefab buildings is the lab, but I remember the work. All I've done for the last several weeks, besides lie in bed, is wander through the ravine, counting and recounting the witches.

I had a wife. I have her face, but not her name. The divorce is there, mostly in impressions. Terrible looming loneliness. Desperate need for physical contact. Aimless libido. The things Carmen could toy with. That's right. The divorce finalized. Didn't think they'd send the notice here, thought my past was safe, that my lesbianism could be a secret. The papers were at my door first thing in the morning, and I spent the whole day terrified. My new job, a new start at a better life. A chance to be an expert in my field, all on the precipice of destruction. After sundown Carmen finally pinned me. All that's left of that conversation is her body. The normally reserved assistant, with her turtlenecks and ankle length skirts, in a too tight, too sheer white blouse and shorts that couldn't quite cover her ass. Eyes that burned into me. Should have known right there that something was off. She looked so hungry.

When did she start to feed on me? That same night? Couldn't have taken her long. Sharp like needles, teeth in my flesh. Breasts, thighs, neck. No one noticed the marks? How much longer would I have lived? I don't remember it, but it had to have been happening. I'm scratching at my throat and my wrists, looking for scars that aren't there. Just the fresh bite, still bleeding.

The cave walls are coated in a film of meat. Mucus drips down into my hair, blinds my eyes, then sloughs back to the floor; I'm being incorporated into the system, a proving ground for viscosity. Veins thicker than my wrists pulse a heartbeat. I can feel the rhythm in my feet, counting my steps deeper into the dark. Towards the nexus of blood. Muscle to break.

Sweetness, sick like bile, drifts through the air. It's building pressure. Compounding like I'm underwater. Deeper and Deeper.

I feel it before I see it.

Atop a pedestal of fat, drenched eternally by fountains of serous fluid, beating in time with the soul that's entrapped me, is the heart.

Carmen's heart.

Around it are skeletons. Most human, one still rotting: the intruder that Perri saw her secret away. The rest are nearly human, but for the spindly protrusions on the skull; the wide, toothy jaws. Witches, a dozen of them. Maybe the one in that video, cut apart to lure idiots like me in. No wonder Lilith wants her gone.

The heart.

It's warm as a body, like I've seriously reached my hand inside her chest and wrapped my fingers around her heart. I'm supposed to kill her. Why? Everything's twisted. This place is fucking with me. This job. What does Carmen want with me? What's the point in keeping me alive?

I take her heart in my hand, living muscle.

And then she's there, in my head, whispering into my ear. Breathing hard on my neck. She's struggling. Lili's been allowed to live because she'd be too hard for Carmen to kill. But the witch can't hold her back forever. Carmen whispers my name.

"Lauren. Don't."

I have no reason not to.

"You don't remember. That first night. How much I wanted to taste you. Your cunt or your neck, I didn't care. Easy enough to have both, around here. But then I dosed you and you didn't go under. It took all my willpower, leaving you that night. I thought I was getting stupid, being sentimental. Then you found Lydia. You dragged her back to your cabin and tied her to the ceiling and fucked her all night. Rode her fucking face, inches away from acid that'd kill you. I saw how hungry you were for it. How bad you needed it. I know that feeling. My whole life is that feeling. You were so fixated on her, I couldn't help being jealous. So I did some prodding, a little science. The classical kind. Find out what happens kind. And she got smarter. You got more obsessed. It was too much. I was going to kill her, but then I realized. You were just like me."

I'm an oddity to her. A glassy surface she can see herself in. There'd be nothing between us if not for that.

"We have the same desires, you felt what every idiot who's died to a witch has felt, but you used it. Made the hunger a tool. Found a long term solution. I'm the same. Lauren, I am what I am, but I never tasted you until tonight. This isn't about keeping quiet. Lilith was right, as long as I get results, I can do whatever I want. I wanted to wait. I didn't kill you."

And doesn't that mean something? That she hasn't killed me signals some kind of loyalty? Like I owe her something for that? Like she owns me?

"You're already more like me than like them."

I squeeze. Dig my fingernails in. Carmen moans. Blood oozes out around my fingers. Deepest Crimson.

"You are. You are. You are. We can be the same. You've already gotten so close. Just drink from me. Stay with me."

I could do it. I believe her, she's telling the truth about this. I could be like her. "I can't stop you. I'm at you mercy. We're equal already but I need you to save me. Perri's up. She's coming. She'll kill us both to play hero." Something loud echoes down the cave walls. Footsteps.

"Lauren! Now! She's coming!"

Perri sweeps into view. Eyes crazed. Handgun drawn. She's looking for her target. I raise the heart.

Open my mouth.