Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) by Nathan Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

uttered a few “tsk’s.”
    “ I wager the sleazy bastard
thought his confession would save him. Never trust the word of a
cop, nonetheless anyone working for them.”
    Vivian shifted
uncomfortably. I suppose you wouldn’t trust
me if you knew the truth. Fortunately,
Joakim either missed or chose to ignore the signals Vivian’s body
transmitted.
    Instead, Joakim approached a vase and
plucked thirteen calla lilies. He quickly scribbled something on a
piece of paper and tucked it in an envelope.
    “ Lilies?” Vivian piped up.
She remembered seeing lilies somewhere before. An image drifted
into focus in her mind.
    Krista . Twelve milky white lilies surrounded her portrait at the
candlelight vigil. The flowers seemed to whirl around from the
effects of salvia. She gave a start when she looked down and saw
the lilies in her own hands. They bounced up and down to the melody
of the music.
    “ Everything will be
explained when the task is done. I also want you to include this
letter.” He pressed the envelope into her hands, his cold
fingertips kissing hers.
    “ Then you’ll guide me to
the outskirts?”
    “ Of course.”
    Vivian meekly nodded and turned away,
clutching the flowers in both hands like a surreal wedding
bouquet.
    “ One last thing,” Joakim
interjected. “Don’t let anyone see the flowers you’re carrying. You
might draw unnecessary attention.”
    “ What if Thuomas doesn’t
pay?”
    Joakim only flashed a smile, and that
told her everything she needed to know.
    Before she even realized it, he
planted a farewell kiss on her cheek.
     
    * * *
     
    The Toxic Mistress awaited her as
always across the street, the gathering place exclusive to the
cyberpunk community.
    Prepared to play her role, Vivian
donned garters, a boned corset, combat boots, and a playful bow in
her hair. Jet black mascara bled down her cheeks. Her red eyes
snapped wide open like portals to Gehenna.
    She thrust the door open with the
dominance one had come to expect from Red Widow. A conclave of
prosthetic men and women inhabited the darkness, a realm somewhere
between a perverse harem and a hospital.
    Artificial hair made of braided wire
and vibrant plastic tubing dangled from their heads. Women clad in
body suits and latex surgical masks fetched drinks for the writhing
masses. Musical distortion with a high tempo and odd noises
saturated the club atmosphere.
    It was Vivian’s natural domain, the
sort of environment a high-strung character like Nikolai couldn’t
set foot in without tripping a radar.
    Gas mask respirators obscured the
faces of three patrons, from which hoses filtered into a glowing
hookah pipe. They expelled the fumes through nasal passages in the
masks, their eyes fogged with ecstasy.
    Vivian wished she could join in their
hedonism but the task ahead surely demanded her wits be intact. She
had only carved her path halfway across the room when every eye
fell on her. Within moments, she lurched to a halt. Even the sound
of swelling bass and synthesizers abated.
    Why are they looking at
me? The burning flush that flooded her
cheeks was strong enough to peek through even the fairest
makeup.
    Suddenly, the stage curtains pulled
back to reveal the evening’s entertainment: female twins conjoined
at the hip, further entangled by two straitjackets. Two pairs of
naked legs dangled pendulously from the stool, and their alabaster
skin glowed in the lacy shadows. Their rosy lips leaned toward the
microphones dangling from IV tubes.
    An avalanche of voice distortion,
deranged synths, and hypersexual lyrics assaulted Vivian. Blending
electronically, the sultry voice bounced around in her
cranium.
    “ Carve off my face and
replace it with latex and silicon. Make me just like all the other
prissy whores splattered on the TV screen.”
    Suddenly, a man across the room
snapped into focus. Industrial blades jutted from his scalp in a
razor-sharp Mohawk. A monocle gleamed on his left eye. Clad in
black suspenders, a striped shirt,