Methods of Control

  Dawn painted the beach in shades of pearl and blood, the sun's first rays catching on bits of metal and glass scattered across the sand. Thristle woke to find herself still wrapped in Seraphina's coat, the fabric carrying lingering warmth despite the night's chill. Vesper's massive form rippled, its surface patterns suggesting it hadn't truly rested - more like a predator maintaining watch.

  "Stop hovering," she muttered, though she couldn't quite keep the fondness from her voice. "I'm fine now. Mostly." Her head still felt stuffed with cotton, but at least the world had stopped spinning.

  "You were shivering," Seraphina said simply, already alert and checking her rifle. Her uniform had dried stiff with salt, but she somehow managed to make even that look intentional. "He was... helping."

  Vesper jiggled with something between pride and embarrassment, then carefully withdrew its mass to let in proper morning light.

  "Their trail's still clear," Seraphina continued all business now. "They headed inland. Probably a-"

  "Research facility," Thristle finished, her voice going flat. She pulled out her case, checking each compartment with shaking fingers. "I still have a few bolts. Should be enough to make a proper point about stealing people's friends."

  "Absolutely not." Seraphina's tone could have frozen fire. "You're barely got better, and those mixtures are-"

  "Perfectly stable!" Thristle protested. At Seraphina's look, she amended, "Stable-ish? Look, they took Vesper. They tried to-" Her voice caught. "They hurt him. Made him into something angry and wrong and-"

  "No one's suggesting we let them do as they please. But leaving this place should be our priority," Seraphina said carefully, in the tone she used when Thristle was being particularly dense. "But perhaps we could attempt a plan," Seraphina announced. "No charging in, no random explosions."

  "Fine." Thristle checked her remaining bolts, trying to ignore how her hands shook slightly. "Proper plan. We can do that. Probably. Any suggestions that don't involve me being sensible?"

  Seraphina's lips twitched. "Several. Most of them involve significantly less property damage than your usual methods."

  "You're no fun at all," Thristle grumbled, but she was already following Seraphina's lead, Vesper flowing beside them like a particularly determined tide. "Though I reserve the right to blow something up if they try that electricity thing again."

  "Noted." Seraphina's voice carried a dangerous edge now. "Though I suspect they'll find rifles significantly more concerning than alchemy."

  "Rude," Thristle muttered, but her own grin had turned sharp.

  ---

  The jungle pressed against the beach like a wall of dark green shadow. No birds called from its depths. No insects hummed in its undergrowth. The silence felt thick enough to touch, broken only by the soft shush of waves behind them.

  "We could stay here," Thristle suggested without much hope. "Build a nice beach house. Take up fishing?"

  But they all knew the beach offered no real safety. The jungle closed around them, its canopy blocking most of the morning light. Each step brought a new layer of wet heat that clung to skin and clothes. Vesper drifted ahead, its natural glow catching on leaves still heavy with dew. Thristle wiped the sweat from her forehead, trying not to think about how the path they followed was just a bit too clear, too direct. Her fingers found the marks on her arm without conscious thought, an old habit when nervous.

  "It's too quiet," Thristle murmured, more to break the stillness than from the need to speak. Her voice sounded wrong in that heavy air. "Jungles aren't supposed to be quiet."

  Seraphina stood up, rifle held with casual readiness that fooled neither of them. "The facility must have a land entrance," she said softly as if the jungle might overhear. "They couldn't have maintained operations without one."

  Scents of wet earth and rot and something else - something sharp and wrong made Thristle's tongue taste like metal. Vesper's surface churned with darker blues as it studied the forest's around them. The slime had been showing new patterns since their escape - something about its colors seemed sharper, more focused. Like it had remembered something about itself during the fight. A sound drifted from the depths - so faint it might have been imagination. Not quite chittering, not quite speech. Something moving with carefully through the unnatural quiet.

  In the depths ahead, that strange metallic scent grew stronger, mixing with the natural rot of the forest floor. Nothing moved in the branches above. A vine brushed Thristle's shoulder. She jumped, then pretended she hadn't when Seraphina glanced back. The maid's - guard's - whatever she was's expression stayed neutral, but her grip on the rifle shifted slightly.

  A twig snapped in the forest behind them. Thristle spun, crossbow already raised, but there was only a shadow between the trees. Still, something about that darkness made her skin crawl in ways that had nothing to do with Vesper's usual effect on her nerves. "We need to move," Seraphina said quietly, already gathering the most important documents. "Whatever Hawthorne's planning-"

  The slime paused at a massive tree trunk, its surface moved with odd patterns as it examined deep grooves cut into the bark. These were claw marks, Thristle realized, each gouge exactly as deep as its neighbors.

  "We're being watched," Seraphina stated. Not a question.

  A branch cracked somewhere in the shadowed canopy - too deliberate to be natural, too far to pinpoint. The sound hung in the dead air like an invitation.

  Or a promise.

  Another sound from the forest - not quite footsteps, more like someone had taken the concept of walking and decided to get creative with the number of legs involved.

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  The clicking sounds multiplied, moving parallel to their position. Not approaching, not retreating - maintaining perfect distance through the undergrowth. Guiding them.

  Vesper's surface darkened suddenly, that deep purple that usually preceded violence. The slime flowed toward something half-hidden beneath fallen leaves, its movements unusually hesitant.

  "Don't," Thristle started, her feet were already moving. The object resolved into a boot, still containing most of a leg. Whatever had removed it, it had done so with terrifying precision - the cut edges were clean as surgery. The leather bore the Wavechaver's mark. A few papers scattered, probably during their fight, their edges marked with familiar symbols that made her throat go dry.

  "You recognize it." Seraphina's voice carried that careful neutrality she used when trying very hard not to spook someone.

  "Wish I didn't," Thristle managed, her carefully maintained accent cracking around the edges. "Let's just say some folks have interesting ideas about improving things that don't need improving."

  "It was officially shut down," Seraphina corrected, her maid's demeanor falling away completely as she broke the seal of a letter. "Lord Blackbriar suspected some members continued their work in secret. But he needed proof." Her eyes met Thristle's. "That's why he sent us. Why he sent you, specifically."

  "Me?" Thristle's laugh held a brittle edge. "Because I'm such a skilled investigator?"

  "Because you've seen their work before," Seraphina said softly. "Because you were one of the few who survived exposing their Port Sallow facility." Seraphina's voice softened slightly.

  "I didn't..." Thristle swallowed hard. "I just happened to be in the right place. Or wrong place, depending on how you look at it." Her carefully maintained accent slipped as memories surfaced. "Found out what they were doing. Couldn't just..." She shook her head sharply. "Doesn't matter now."

  A skittering sound moved near.

  "They're testing responses," Seraphina noted, her voice carrying that edge of steel that suggested someone would answer for this. "Leaving pieces for us to find, watching how we react."

  The clicking sounds had stopped. The silence pressed closer, attentive. Waiting.

  Thristle's fingers found her crossbow's familiar grip. "Well then," she managed, forcing steadiness into her voice, "shall we disappoint our audience by not screaming and running?"

  The attack came suddenly. Something massive dropped from the canopy, its segmented body gleaming like polished armor in what little sunlight filtered through the leaves. Each segment bore legs longer than Thristle was tall, tipped with spikes that could easily pierce a man. Its mandibles clicked together with the sound of sharpened steel meeting steel. Multiple compound eyes reflected sunlight as it scuttled forward.

  Thristle yelped, stumbling backward. But there was nowhere to run - more clicking sounds echoed from the shadows as other shapes emerged, their movements carrying that horrible coordination that spoke of shared purpose.

  Seraphina's rifle cracked, the sound deafening in the silence. The bullet sparked off chitinous plates, leaving barely a gash. The thing reared up, revealing row upon row of legs that moved with unison. One moment, it was by a tree, the next, it was on her. She got off one wild shot before being slammed against the tree, her crossbow clattering away as razor-sharp mandibles snapped inches from her face.

  Vesper surged forward, but something was wrong. Instead of dissolving on contact, the creature's armor merely smoked where the slime touched it. The slime recoiled, its surface churning with unfamiliar patterns of pain. "No!" Thristle tried to reach for her fallen weapon, but a segmented limb pinned her arm. The creature's mandibles opened wider, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. Its breath smelled like rotting meat. The thing's limb moved. She felt something sharp pierce her skin.

  Vesper went still for a heartbeat - that particular stillness that made Thristle's instincts scream to run. In a moment its surface turned completely black, crimson patterns blooming across that darkness, like blood on tar. Not the usual angry reds, but something deeper, older.

  The creature must have sensed the change. It released Thristle and turned to face this new threat.

  Vesper moved.

  This wasn't its usual flowing motion. The slime's mass contracted, then exploded forward with such force that the impact created a dent in the ground. Before the creature could react, Vesper slammed it and begun flowing into every joint and seam of its armor. His surface became almost metallic as it began to dissolve flesh beneath plates. The creature thrashed, its legs scrabbling against the ground as Vesper methodically unmade it from the inside out. Each plate was pried up like a child pulling wings off an insect. The thing's alien screech echoed as the slime stripped away protection and flesh. But Vesper wasn't finished. Even after the creature stopped moving, the slime continued its work. The process was terrifyingly thorough in its attention to detail.

  "Behind you!" Seraphina's warning came just as another creature lunged. Thristle spun, raising her crossbow. Strong arms caught her as Seraphina tackled her clear of the strike. They landed hard, the maid somehow twisting to take the impact. Thristle found herself pressed against Seraphina's chest, her face burning despite the mortal danger.

  "Move!" Seraphina shoved her aside as mandibles snapped where they'd been lying. The creature's mouthparts were a nightmare of sharp edges and chemical sensors, designed for purposes Thristle really didn't want to contemplate.

  Vesper's reaction was immediate as he released its first victim - now more scrap than creature - and flowed toward this new threat with deadly purpose. Its surface blazed with those deep crimsons as it methodically began taking the thing apart.

  The remaining creatures retreated into the shadows, their clicking communications carrying something that might have been fear. They had not expected this level of resistance, had not expected Vesper to be quite so... thorough.

  When nothing remained but scattered pieces, Vesper's coloring began to return to normal, though something about its patterns remained different. More predatory. The slime flowed around Thristle with possessive care, checking for injuries while maintaining a grip that was just short of bruising.

  "I'm alright," she tried to soothe it, though her voice shook. Each ripple of its surface against her skin reminded her of that methodical dismantling. "Really, you can-"

  The slime's surface moved with patterns that cut off her protests. For just a brief moment, those deep crimsons flashed, reminding her exactly what lurked beneath its usual playful exterior. Apparently satisfied with her wellbeing he started gathering the scattered remains, burbling almost cheerfully as it added new trophies to its collection.

  But Thristle noticed how it kept parts enclosed in its mass and how the new specimens parts were positioned prominently among its floating treasures. A warning, she realized, to anything else that might think them easy prey.

  She had almost forgotten what Vesper truly was.

  Seraphina watched this display with careful neutrality, though her rifle remained ready. "We should move," she said softly. "They'll be back with something worse."

  In the shadows, clicking sounds resumed their pursuit. But now, they maintained a much more respectful distance.

  ---