Free A Plague on All Houses by Dana Fredsti Page A

gear?”
    “Ah,” said Simone. “As Wild Cards, you and I don't have to worry about contamination.”
    My eyes widened in surprise. Simone knew what it was like to be bitten by one of those things and survive. It raised my already considerable respect for her up another notch. But her answer left me with another question. “What about Gabriel?”
    Simone hesitated. “Gabriel is … different.”
    “That's one word for it.” I know, but I couldn't resist it. Gabriel shot me a look. “I mean, different how?”
    “Well, Miss Drake?” Before I could be enlightened as to Gabriel's differences, General Brasshole stepped between us. He moved into my personal space, trying to intimidate me by towering all of two inches above me.
    I gave him a deadly look, wishing one of my Wild Card abilities included inflicting death by laser glare. “Don't rush me.”
    “It's not that tough a decision, missy. You do the right thing and your ex will be given a hero's funeral. After all, he died trying to save you .” He poked me in the sternum with a forefinger.
    Oh, you total bastard, I thought. But he was right. Matt died when he came back for me. If he hadn't, he'd still be alive instead of rotting in his Levi's.
    Still, if General Heald poked me again, I'd break his finger.
    I looked at the cages, wondering if one of them held what was left of Matt. A greenish-gray hand thrust its way between two bars. Was that Matt's class ring on one rotting finger? “Is … is he in here?”
    “Oh yes,” Heald said smugly. “Would you like to see him?” The bastard was enjoying this and totally expecting me to say no.
    Simone had had enough. “General, I don't see how this is—”
    “Yes.” They both looked at me in surprise.
    “Ashley, are you sure?” Simone put a hand on my arm.
    I nodded. “I want to see Matt. Then I'll make my decision.” Part of me wanted to do this out of machismo, just to show Heald I could take it. Another part of me needed to say goodbye to Matt, even if he couldn't understand me. And I guess I hoped it would help me decide what to do, although I already had a pretty good idea what my answer would be.
    “Fine, then. Right this way, Miss Drake.” The General waved his hand towards the cages. I slowly moved past him, once again looking neither left nor right so I wouldn't see the Mengele-esque experiments on either side of me. General Heald trailed after me, no doubt wanting to see my face when I saw Matt again. I held up a hand and said, “No way. You stay back here.”
    His face turned red. “Miss Drake, you do not give the orders around here!”
    “If you ever want me to obey any orders, you'll back off and give me my space,” I shot back.
    Heald drew in breath for another round of bullying, but Gabriel stepped in front of him. “I'll show her, sir. It's safer for me.” His tone was nothing but respectful, but I got the feeling Gabriel wouldn't back down if challenged. If he kept this up, I might find myself actually liking him.
    “Harrumph. I suppose you're right.” Brasshole sounded grumpy, as though agreeing with anything not his idea gave him indigestion. “Just make it quick.”
    Choke on it, pal.
    Gabriel took me by one arm, his hand right above my elbow, and led me to the back of the room. The warmth of his hand and the strength I felt in those fingers made me feel safe. Or at least as safe as possible under the circumstances.
    We stopped in front of the cage farthest from the lab entrance and stood a good three feet away from the bars as agitated moans filled the air. A capture pole rested on the wall next to the cage, the hook end spattered with blood. “Is he in there?” Stupid question, I know. I just wanted to put off the moment of truth a few seconds longer.
    Gabriel shook his head. “No. It is in there. It's not your boyfriend any more. Try to remember that. It'll make things easier on you if you can avoid humanizing them.”
    I bit my lip and turned to the cage. The size of a