The final chords of “Warrior Forever,” the latest Metal Brain
song, faded on the radio. “And now a quick update regarding one of
the band's biggest fans,” declared the announcer. “We got a
message yesterday that David Technical Expert Libertus had been
spotted at Preator Pizza with his new house pet.” Rachel paused in
her packing and made a face. Surely she was as least as big a fan as
Dave. Why wasn't the station talking about sighting the biggest fan
Rachel David's of Luther's and her new hOwner? At least this was one
station that wasn't still talking about Alice. Even though
the Sacrifice was over a week old at this point, this might have been
the first time she could recall hearing about anything else on the
radio since that time. “While we are happy for his good fortune,”
the announcer went on, “and, by all reports the house pet is quite
a catch, in this individual's humble opinion, backed up in an
interview a few days ago with the eminent Sir. Aaron Armstrong, it is
rather a concern that he rushed into this so quickly. While the
early twenties are not a bad time for taking one's first house pet,
this is with the assumption that one has already been acquiring a
great deal of experience previously. Considering David's rather
conspicuous lack in this regard, we feel the decision may have been
unwise, perhaps even setting a bad example and...”
“You stupid fucker,” Rachel shrieked, jabbing the button on the
remote to turn off the radio as she placed her traveling hat on the
back of her head and put the lid on her final hover basket. She
didn’t have that many now, mostly just her painting supplies and
the few pieces of clothing she felt she could get away with taking
from Luther’s.
Technically, she could go back to the brothel and request fresh
supplies if she ever felt the need but she didn’t want to deal with
Luther’s. She would buy
her own clothes and, in time, she would have her own clothing
dispenser next to Dave’s to hold them. There would be a
hairdressing unit and a manicure unit too, a perfume dispenser, a
nail art machine, and other things. Dave had promised her all this
but it would take time. Paying for the Sacrifice had set him back a
lot and the exorbitant sum he had to pay each month for Rachel made
it hard for him to replenish his savings. Even while they were on
vacation, spending the next week or so at his house in the mountains,
he would be working long distance though his computer. This was
necessary, but he promised he would never neglect her during his
leisure time.
But there was no hurry. Already, she had learned to brush her hair
and paint her nails the old-fashioned way and, although she was still
clumsy at it, she was getting better. Besides, since she wouldn’t
be appearing in public nearly as much now, she didn’t need as many
nice things. Around the house, Dave was fine with her wearing some
of his old clothes. She did have one entirely new thing in her
luggage though, a selection of his books that she intended to read
almost every second he was busy. He had promised to give her
education just as good as what he had received and Rachel was very
excited about this, just as excited as she was about the education
she would be giving him in the skills she had learned at Luther’s,
which he had promised to spend lots of time on as well. She
was fortunate indeed that she did not have to decide which she was
more excited about, either of them, or the fact that she was going
outside the city for the first time.
Rachel was suddenly distracted from her thoughts when a message
appeared on the wall monitor, saying there was someone outside who
wanted to see her. She pushed the button that activated the camera
on the landing platform and, seeing that her guest was Susan, not
some nosy reporter wanting to dig up dirt on her private life and
then use it against her to claim she was being a “bad example,”
sent down an invitation for her to come up. She had suspected the
outing to Preator Pizza might have been ill advised, but had been
unable to avoid vindictively picking at the emotional scab by
treating herself to the thing Alice had so wanted. With glasses of
sparkling fruit wine in their hands, they went to sit in the
armchairs by the window alcove--yes, Dave had now added a second
chair so he and Rachel could sit together--and Rachel asked Susan why
she had come.
“I wanted to see you before you left. It'll be dull not having you
around,” said Susan. Rachel smiled. It felt good to be missed.
“I won’t be gone forever,” she said. “And even if we don’t
live together, we can still go out and do things. Let’s arrange to
meet at Fedallah's for lunch every Tuesday, starting when I get back,
and, while we’re there, we can make arrangements to do other things
if we want. For one thing, I happened to be talking to Dave the
other day and it came up that, since, as Libertus, he can do
whatever he wants, there is no reason why he shouldn't try his hand
at producing some sensuality novels.”
Susan looked at her in confusion. “Does he want me to make
plot-line suggestions or something?” She asked uncertainly.
Rachel grinned. “Do you really think he has enough free time to
actually write novels?” she inquired teasingly. “He'd much
prefer that they just materialize fully written and he can just
pretend he wrote them.”
Susan choked into her wine in a most undignified manner and then
stared at Rachel. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
she asked, half afraid. Rachel nodded emphatically. “That would
be wonderful,” cried Susan, once she had found her voice again,
breaking into one of her high-speed laughs. “Why didn’t I think
of that?” Then her expression sobered quickly. “I also have
some far less pleasant business to attend to. On my way over here, I
found someone had slipped this note inside my purse with instructions
for me to give it you on the outside.” She held out a crumpled
piece of paperite. Rachel snatched it, her eyes narrowed. As she
suspected, it was a letter from Alice, though how she had gotten the
computer access to type the letter secretly, Rachel would never know.
“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” it
began. “I don’t have any bad feelings about you anymore, but
please honor my request to stay away from me. You are very bad for
business and my career is the most important thing to me. I know my
career exists only because of you and you probably feel you are
entitled to something because of this. You’re probably right but
the sacrifice is not one that I can make. I hope you understand.
Since I don’t hate you, I hope you don’t hate me either, so
please accept the offer Susan and Stacy are giving you.” Alice’s
influence in the brothel must have skyrocketed far out of proportion
with her years if she was aware of private business matters like
that.
Rachel felt nothing but disgust at Alice’s open and unrepentant
selfishness. She had decided she did not hate her and would not take
any steps to ruin her life. But this was too much. No one said her
forbearance meant she was obliged to respect Alice or forgive her.
“Tell her,” she said coldly, “that I'm avoiding her, not out of
hatred, but out of pain. I don’t like being reminded of what I’ve
lost and having it dangled in front of my face is not my idea of fun.
As for the rest of her letter, it doesn’t deserve to be dignified
with a response.”
Susan nodded. “I think what she’s doing is foolish,” she said,
“and I don’t really understand what she hopes to achieve by it.”
“Now, about that idea of yours that Alice mentioned,” said
Rachel, not waiting for Susan to broach the topic. “I assume
that's the other reason you came to see me.” Susan had the decency
to look embarrassed. “I’ll be honest with you, the idea appeals
to me very much but I just don’t think I can deal with working with
Alice and Elissa.” She gave Susan a conspiratorial grin. “I
guess I’ll just have to start my own brothel.”
Susan shrieked with laughter. “How would you do that?”
“I don’t know but there must be a way. Brothel’s die, like
Augustine's, and surely new
ones must be created to take their place at some point.”
“Rachel, you are so arrogant,” giggled Susan. “You always
wanted to rule everything.”
“You shouldn’t laugh,” Rachel teased back. “You and Stacy
would be my foremost associates. I bet you’d like that.”
“And what would call the place? Rachel’s?”
Susan sneered.
“Hell yeah! Rachel’s: Lair of
the Lady Demons. Our girls could be called the Succubae. It
would be great for business.” Both girls doubled over from
laughing so hard.
“Oh, Rachel, you’re hilarious,” Susan gasped finally.
Rachel nodded, struggling to breathe as well, but, at that moment she
felt something click in her brain. She sat up and looked at Susan
very straight. “No, I’m not. I’m deadly serious.”
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2026
