There was the breath of material falling softly to the floor. She leaned over
him, her long rich crimson hair brushing against his nakedness, caressing him
with infinitely soft movements. The touch was enough to arouse him, and she
giggled in his ear, reaching over his shoulder with a long arm, her fingers
rubbing his chest.
“Krysty,” Ryan closed his good eye for a moment, relishing the contact. He
swallowed hard, fighting to control his breathing.
“Yeah?”
“When did Quint say he couldn’t read?”
“Yesterday. He took me to see that door to the outside. Said there was a whole
mess of fuckin’ wicked mutie dwarfs out there. That’s what he said. They wait.
Been waitin’ for a hundred years. He talked about being the Keeper. Said that
everythin’ he knew, he’d learned from his father, who was Keeper before him.”
The bath was three-quarters full. The woman knelt behind Ryan, her arms around
him, her breasts pressed against his muscular back so that he could feel her
hard nipples. She was holding him with one hand, rubbing slowly up and down
while, with her other hand, she traced the delicate lace of scars across his
shoulders. And all the time her sentient hair was stroking him.
“His father?”
“Yeah, Ryan. Keeper before him. And his father’s father was Keeper before that.”
“But why’s there only three of ’em left? The muties get ’em?”
“Didn’t say. Ryan?”
There was a change in her voice, and he finally turned around to look into her
face, feeling for a split second as if he might drown in the green depths of her
eyes.
“What, Krysty?”
“Muties, Ryan.”
He nodded. “I’m not goin’ to fuck around, Krysty, and pretend I don’t know what
you mean. I do know.”
She sat back, drawing her long legs up, folding her arms around them, resting
her chin on her knees. Her marvelous hair tumbled across her shoulders, coyly
covering her breasts.
“Now’s the time for this, Ryan. We’ve known each other a short while. We made
love—or we fucked. I thought it was makin’ love. You?”
“Yeah, Krysty. I didn’t think we were fuckin’. I thought we…”
“That’s good. Now, you know I’m a mutie.”
“Not—” But she interrupted him.
“Turn off the tap, or we’ll flood the bastard redoubt in hot water.”
“There. Look, there’s somethin’ funny about your hair. Like it moves some.”
“Some. My mother was Mother Sonja, and the good and bad things about me come
from her. She had the power, Ryan. Real power. Gave some to me—some by birthing
me, some by teaching me.”
“Was she…a mutie?”
“More than me. She could make her hair grow long and lift things with it. I saw
her do it when I was little. She got older and didn’t or couldn’t do it anymore.
My hair moves a little. Mainly when I’m happy or when I’m…” She grinned
suddenly, lifting her face, dazzling him with her beauty. “I guess you noticed
that, Ryan. And my hair hurts when it’s pulled or caught. Or cut.”
“That all?”
The washer on one of the taps in the whirlpool bath had rotted, and the water
dripped steadily. Ryan watched it, conscious that he was beginning to feel cold.
“No. You know that I’ve escaped twice with my wrists tied?”
“And you damn near broke the handle on the main door to the redoubt in the
Darks.”
“Yeah, I did. That’s kind of a mutation. But it’s more what I meant by Mother
Sonja’s teaching me things. She taught me how to do that.”
“What?”
She looked down again. “It’s a sort of focusing, a concentrating on how I feel.
It’s hard and it tires me some. I call on the Earth Mother, and she comes to
help me.”
“Just how strong are you?” asked Ryan, still naked, standing and moving around
the exercise room, conscious that his erection had vanished and that his penis
now slapped limply against his thigh as he walked.
“I don’t know. I tried all I could on that door. Our lives were in danger. The
effort nearly killed me. I nearly puked my guts up.”
In one corner, stacked on a chrome steel rack, there was a bar and a pile of