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

and a tie, he embodied the
quintessential butler, although Vivian suspected no ordinary
servant would operate in such a place as The Toxic Mistress—and
certainly not one with a Mohawk fashioned from blades. If those
blades didn’t poke out her eyes, surely his jutting cheekbones
would. And yet, a certain air of dignity and morbid elegance clung
to him.
    Overcome with curiosity, she skipped
toward the bar.
    “ Who might you be?” she
chimed, leaning her elbows on the counter. “I haven’t seen you here
before.” He looked up as a sly smile creased his thin
lips.
    “ Gavin, one of the
proprietors of The Toxic Mistress. I recently enlisted with this
legion of debauched souls only several weeks ago. To whom do I owe
this luscious pleasure?”
    “ Red Widow.” A crack
splintered through the glass he rammed down. He had fallen
completely still. Gavin finally lifted his eyes from the foggy
absinthe swimming in the glass.
    “ So it is true,” he
murmured softly. “You look just like her.”
    “ What do you mean?” She
staggered back as he excitedly lunged over the counter.
    “ Don’t you recognize me,
Vivian?” The glimmering monocle didn’t ring any mental bells, nor
did the coy voice he carried with unwavering confidence. Surely she
would remember a man with blades embedded in his skull.
    “ No, I’m sorry.”
    “ I taught your anatomy
class before you dropped out.” Her silence spoke volumes. “I had
hair instead of blades in my head back then,” Gavin chuckled,
flicking his finger against the metal plates.
    “ I suffered a horrific
accident in a local factory where our anatomical models are
produced. One of the machines exploded and shrapnel cut through my
scalp. The ambulance hauled my disfigured body to the ER, where the
surgeons managed to remove some of the shards in my chest. However,
the blades could not be removed from my brain for fear of
paralyzing or killing me. One of my friends suggested stylizing the
blades to be less… unsettling.”
    “ Of course. I’m sure that
fashion statement puts all the girls at ease. So how did you
survive with blades lodged in your brain?”
    “ There is still much you
have to learn about anatomy, Vivian.”
    “ I know,” she sighed,
bowing her head. She longed to sit in class again, frantically
jotting down notes while the professor preached from his pulpit.
“How did you end up like this?”
    “ It’s a long story. One
moment I was working on the assembly line, and the next moment it
felt like my skull was being crushed in a vice. The blades
destroyed portions of my brain’s frontal lobe. You see, damage to
particular parts of the brain can impact personality and behavior.
The incident left me in a coma for a month. The damage to my
frontal lobe skewed my personality, but fortunately, my memories
are intact. In some ways, my plight is not so different from the
American Crowbar Case. Surely you’ve heard of Phineas Gage and the
tamping iron that passed through his brain? I discussed it in class
during our unit about the central nervous system.”
    “ Yes, I’ve heard the story
before.”
    “ Suffice to say, Phineas
and I share a common bond of mental destruction and personality
change. Some say he became hostile and volatile after the injury to
his brain. Since my accident, I’ve acquired a keen interest in
merging technology with mankind, a dystopian existence, a quiet
rebellion—as well as a penchant for Renaissance literature. I can’t
figure it out for the life of me.”
    “ Professor
Gavin? ” Vivian murmured breathlessly. She
recalled a man with dark, slicked back hair. Glasses once perched
on his hawkish nose and his slender frame always donned a crisp
vest and slacks. He continuously injected his dry wit into lecture,
turning an otherwise daunting class into a fun experience ripe with
laughter. Most fascinating of all were the stories he shared from
his days as a trauma surgeon. “You’ve changed so much, Professor
Gavin… How do you