Page 18 of Entity

I slump against the bathroom doorframe, my heart thudding like a jackhammer. It was just a shadow, a trick of the light. This crazy altitude. Maybe even some fucked up vibrations from Ian’s ley lines, making me see things.

“I need to chill the fuck out,” I announce to no one.

I take a minute to gather myself, and then I’m hurrying down the spiral stairs to rejoin Eros. But when I get to the foot of the stairs, I see that I’m alone. Eros is gone, and Ian is still, apparently, jacking it in his bathroom.

I meander to the kitchen, refilling my now lukewarm cup of coffee. I could use a stiff drink, but it’s still a little early for that. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s still a little early for a devil’s threesome with a Pleasurebot, but that didn’t stopme.

The rain is picking up. I watch as it lashes the window, rivulets of neon-bright water coloring the glass. The storm has made it so dark that the city’s lights are on early, and it feels like midnight rather than early afternoon. There’s a heaviness in the air, a vibration that feels like waiting. Like an anticipatory inhale, or the pulse of silence just before a lightning strike.

Shivering, I turn away from the view. I much prefer the sight of Ian’s home, austere as it is. It’s warm and quiet, and I don’t like looking out that window.

I take another sip of coffee.

“You imagined it,” I say aloud, trying to dispel this strange mood, to regain the sense of excitement I’d had in the shower.

It wouldn’t be the first time I hallucinated, I rationalize. Once, I spent a month microdosing mushrooms under the impression it would improve my mental health. But the girl who’d sold them to me didn’t mention they were mushrooms she grew in her own cellar, a detail that would have been nice to know beforehand. As it turned out, these mushrooms were notremotely safe for human consumption, and I was lucky I’d only been taking minuscule doses. Even so, I saw a lot of fucked up, nonexistent things that month.

Whatever I saw back in my room, I’m determined to put it out of my head. I’m more than ready to get back to the tour and back to work. Back to not being alone at the top of a skyscraper.

I wander into the living area, nervously sipping my coffee. Where did Eros go? How long is Ian going to fuck himself for? Did he fall asleep? Maybe he’s taking a shower too.

Then something catches my eye. Something that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there before: a piece of paper on the bar. The back of my neck prickles as I approach.

It’s a note. Written hastily, almost unreadable:

Off-site lab emergency. Back soon. Make yourself at home. - Ian

Off-site lab emergency? Right after a mind-blowing three-way and my horrifying hallucination? Okay. Sure. Great timing. I’m alone in a Pleasurebot house of horrors.

“It’s not a house of horrors, Katherine,” I scold myself, going around to the other side of the bar. I rummage around until I find the bottle of whiskey Ian was using last night and pour a healthy amount into the remains of my now-cold coffee. “You’re safer here than some random guy’s apartment. Ian’slawyerknows you’re here.”

I take a sip and wince at the burn. It’s early to start drinking, but I already feel better, knowing that in a few minutes and a few more sips, I’ll be loose and relaxed, hopefully enough to think straight. I figure Ian brought Eros back down to the vault before he left. Maybe I’ll even have time to get some writing done.

Mug in hand, I head back toward the spiral staircase, thinking I’ll retrieve my laptop from the guest room and hang out down here, maybe draft a list of specific questions I’d like to ask Ian. Now that I’ve spent time with Eros, I’m starting to think of more specific things I can ask him, too. Maybe I’ll even start on a loose outline for the book. The narrative concept is already taking shape in my head.

I pause at the foot of the stairs and swallow the last of my coffee, a nice little buzz beginning to fizz its way through my veins. I glance over my shoulder, my gaze falling on that nondescript door in the far wall, marked only by a keypad.

I think of that shadowy form in the vault below.

I remember Ian’s words:The Prototype will make you swear off sex with humans. He’ll ruin you.Ian wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t want me interested. He wants me to find out for myself. Deep down, hewantsme to meet the Prototype.

Anticipation buzzes on my skin.

I head toward the door to the vault, setting my empty coffee mug on a side table on the way.

Ian talks a big talk. He flatters; he tells me my blog is so innovative and brilliant. He claims to see me as an intellectual. An equal, even. He pickedmeover every other writer in the world. But I know he’s full of shit. Because he didn’t cover the keypad when he was typing in the door codes. And I’m always paying attention.

“He wants something groundbreaking,” I murmur, stopping to stand before the nondescript door. I type in the keycode. “I’ll give it to him.”

8

After typing in the code,I tense up, expecting the panel to refuse me. Like it can read my fingerprints or my DNA and will set off an alarm or electrocute me. But nothing happens. And then, with a click, the door unlocks.

I enter the cool, dark stairwell.

I flick on the lights, and the door closes behind me.

My belly thrills with the knowledge that I’m going behind Ian’s back. That I’m acting out. That I really am about to do this. Ithasto be what he wants. He’s been pushing me toward this all day. He wants me to have some depraved sexual experience with the Prototype, just like I had with Eros. Maybe he’s hoping to burst in on us, some kind of cuckolding thing. I hope not. That would be too weird, even for me.

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