93
Selma had made muffins.
Chocolate ones.
With big chunks of chocolate in them. They were moist and fluffy.
So was Selma by the sound of what Milo had been doing to her when Mila had left the fortress. Mila didn’t begrudge her golem-sister’s fun. But she did feel jealous.
She didn’t want to take away anything from Selma, though. She just wanted a bit of his time, too! Was that so much to ask?
Running across a rooftop, the small golem’s feet barely whispered as they touched the tiles beneath.
She whipped out across a gaping void to land deftly on the next rooftop and kept running.
She was still wearing his coat.
The sleeves were too long and only the tips of her fingers could be seen through the cuffs.
Under that, she wore black pants and shirt.
Simple designs. Nothing bright. Nothing reflective.
Because she didn’t want to be seen this late at night by any guards.
Or the people she was following.
Mila could see them up ahead. A small group of men with their hoods drawn up, long cloaks almost touching their heels.
Her mind ran a few options.
Favorite among them was jumping down to the street below and engaging them in a quick brutal fight which would achieve two things.
First, they’d be dead.
Second, she’d feel a lot better about life in general.
Instead of doing that, she reminded herself of Rule 53, one of Tania’s many rules they’d been developing to ensure a peaceful and harmonious relationship among Milo’s golems.
Rule 53 was a simple one. Two words only.
Be patient.
Patience was something Mila had a lot of. But it was also something that was stretching very thin lately. She could feel fizzy bubbles in her tummy when she thought of Milo. And she felt cold when she wasn’t next to him.
That’s why she’d originally stolen his coat.
Because she was cold.
But then the scent of him on the coat had calmed her down, so now she wore it everywhere. And when she felt down or impatient, she inhaled the smell of Milo on the coat and smiled.
It smelled so much nicer than any of the perfumes they’d given to him to test.
That made her think of her own smell. Each of the golems had their own different perfume. Milo had selected hers as he’d done theirs. She’d first found a dozen or so she thought were okay. Then he’d picked his favorite among them.
It didn’t matter to her which he chose so long as he liked it.
And liked her.
As she ran, Mila pulled the corner of the collar across her nose and smiled.
Above, the moon was clipped by clouds. Below, a thin mist was crawling among the buildings and making the mage lights flare warmly into the street.
Up on the rooftop, dew from the bitterly cold night was making the tiles slippery. But she adjusted on the fly with such precision that it might have looked like she was floating across the rooftops rather than running over them.
At the end of the street, the little group of men paused.
Waiting.
Mila slid to a halt and pressed down against the roof, peering over the top at them.
They didn’t look up.
She counted them. Twelve of them altogether. The one at the front was who she was looking for.
She could roll down into them.
Cut them all to pieces.
No one would know who’d done it. It’d be easy. So easy. But Milo had told her not to. So, Padrick Paddstone got to live another day.
Mila stared down at him, trying to relate his face to Fergus.
She’d spent a lot of time with Fergus. More than she’d wanted to. She’d hadn’t originally meant to. But he’d started falling for her, and Tania told her to slightly encourage it.
Which she did.
For the mission. For Milo.
He’d watched those recordings, too. The thought of him seeing her act like that with Fergus made her want to hide in a hole somewhere until she died.
But he insisted it didn’t bother him. That it had been her job. He even patted her on the head whenever she raised her worries with him. Told her he was proud of her.
It took everything she had not to keep bringing it up just to get more head pats.
The impulse was always there, but she strove to push it down because she didn’t want him to think about it anymore. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was the past.
She was different now.
A new face. A new body. A new voice, even.
Nothing of Fulka remained except some uncomfortable memories.
She was Mila now. Forever and always.
The guilt still existed, though. And it was that guilt which had her glaring at the Paddstone boy with her heart yowling like an alley cat wanting to tear into him. Shred him to pieces.
Because while he did look different, he also looked too familiar.
Except he looked sharper. Meaner. The kind who’d torture a puppy, she thought. Then she pouted. Why would anyone want to torture a puppy?
She resolved there and then to kill Padrick as soon as possible.
Because even if he hadn’t killed any puppies yet, he would soon. He just looked the type.
As she was giving herself reasons to kill him, two men came loping out of the dark. Mila’s eyes narrowed to slits. The biggest of the two had a bundle over one shoulder.
A bleeding bundle.
Blood drooled off the chin of the man draped over his shoulder.
“You got him?” Padrick asked, sounding happy.
“Yeah,” the other man said. “Found him in some dive like you said.”
Padrick rubbed his hands together. “I knew he hadn’t changed.
Still gambling his life away.” He reached out and grabbed a fistful of greasy hair and lifted the battered face up to grin into the eyes of the man barely holding onto consciousness.
“There you are, Gus. I’ve been looking for you, wasn’t I? ”
“P-Padrick,” Gus Farrowbown slurred between swollen lips. “I was g-g-gonna…”
“Sure.” Padrick patted his cheek. “I just bet you were. Well, there’s no need for you to come to me now, is there? How about we go have a chat somewhere nice and private, yeah?”
“P-p-please…” The small man was crying, tears falling from his eyes. “P-Padr… Padrick. I didn’t… D-d-didn’t…”
“Save your breath, Gussy,” Padrick told him with a mean smile. “There’s plenty of time for you to tell me everything that happened to Fergus and why you weren’t there for him. I’ve set aside the next two days, you know.”
Gus groaned and fainted.
“Bring him along,” Padrick said. “We’ll use the Green House.”
Green House was a code word. Mila knew they referred to their houses by a color, but she didn’t know which one was the Green House.
Well.
That was about to change. All she had to do was follow them to it.
She felt sorry for Gus, though. He was part of Sylvia’s team, and Sylvia was a nice lady. They hadn’t talked much, but she was always polite and friendly.
“Tch,” Mila sighed as the group drifted down the street together.
Poor Sylvia was going to need to find another team member.
Because Padrick didn’t look like he was inviting Gus along for tea and biscuits.
Thinking of biscuits, Mila suddenly scowled and reached into Milo’s coat. A small wrapped package was now very flat.
She rolled her eyes and nearly moaned in irritation.
That blasted Padrick!
He’d made her wait. Made her lay down on the roof on top of her precious snack!
Moving slowly after the group, Mila unwrapped her snack and looked sadly at the crushed remains of one of Selma’s muffins. It looked ruined.
But a muffin was a muffin, so she started stuffing it into her mouth.
Golems didn’t need food, but she could taste it. And feel its texture. And those two things, combined with smell, worked to let her her Machine Intelligence Core know whether something was tasty or not.
And Selma’s muffins were very tasty.
By the time Padrick’s little team had reached their destination, she’d already finished wiping her fingers on her pants. She hadn’t wiped them on the coat. She didn’t want to dirty it.
She wanted to preserve his smell. Not cover it in muffin.
Slipping off the roof, she ducked down behind a hedge and peered through the thick vegetation as the dozen or so men spread out quickly to do a fast search of the surrounding area. One of them walked almost right over the top of her, but her camouflage made her invisible to him.
When he trotted back to the group, he was looking back, though.
“You guys smell muffins?”
The others looked at him oddly. Then they shook their heads.
“Maybe I’m hungry,” he muttered.
Mila almost growled at herself for breaking another rule. Rule 46. Don’t eat while camouflaged.
Thankfully, Tania wasn’t here to slap her head.
She watched the men slowly form up and head inside the house. It wasn’t strictly a house. More a warehouse in a lonely quiet street of similar warehouses and a grain silo.
Pulling out a small notepad, she took note of the building’s location. And some possible sniper positions. And infiltration points.
And closest buildings in case Milo changed his mind about her blowing up buildings.
Mila really wanted to blow up a building.
She could almost imagine the size of the blast. The heavy thump of the shockwave punching through the surrounding buildings and making the ground shake.
The bright fiery explosion would no doubt light up the sky.
It’d look so beautiful, she thought.
Then she sighed as her sharp enhanced hearing picked up the first scream from Gus within the little building. No one lived nearby.
No one would hear him.
Two days later, his body would be found floating in the bay.