Subhuman Resources: The Third Kelly Chan Novel

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  One-Way Ticket to Midnight

  About the Authors

  SUBHUMAN RESOURCES

  The Third Kelly Chan Novel

  by Gary Jonas & Rebecca Hodgkins

  For Diana Laughlin, a fallen warrior who fought for the system more than it fought for her. Rest now.

  And for Alia Paddock, daughter of my heart, who is already fighting to make the world a better place.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Something’s wrong,” I said to my best friend, Amanda. We were in my dojo cleaning up between classes. She’d taken up two parking spaces again, and I told her that she had two choices – either die by my sword or help me sweep and stack mats. Even though Amanda’s a pretty powerful witch now that she’s employed by DGI, she chose the latter. Wisely.

  “What?” Amanda stopped arranging a pile of magazines on a table. Normal people use their hands to do that. Amanda used her hands too – except she used them to cast a new levitation spell. Issues of Aikido Journal, Black Belt, and Classical Fighting Arts flopped down on top of Martha Stewart Weddings, obviously left there by one of my students.

  “I don’t know. I think someone’s cast a spell on me.” I touched my head. “It feels like an invisible band is squeezing me right here” – I ran my hand over my forehead – “to here” – then ran my fingers through my hair over the top of my head to the nape of my neck.

  Amanda relaxed and shrugged. “Sounds like a tension headache to me, Kel.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t get headaches. I don’t get any aches.”

  “I think you’ve just been working too hard. Take a break. Close the dojo. Get out of town for a few days. It’ll all still be here when you get back.” Amanda lifted her hands again and the magazines lined up. She crooked her finger and a framed poster hanging above the table straightened out – a cartoon of Olive Oyl wearing a gi, captioned “Spinach is a crutch.” A vintage cover from Black Belt Woman and a gift from Amanda.

  The headache, or whatever it was, tightened. My left eye felt like it was about to pop out of its socket. I knew exactly how that felt because it almost happened in the middle of a fight.

  Maybe Amanda was right. I had been through a lot – losing my best friend Jonathan, then finding out he was alive only to lose him again.

  But the biggest shock was discovering I had a “time twin” – another version of myself from a different timeline. Just thinking about it made the headache worse, so I stopped. I needed a break, but I didn’t have time.

  “Think about it, seriously,” Amanda stopped and studied me.

  “I can’t right now,” I said. “I’m hosting a party here.”

  Amanda’s jaw dropped. “You. Are. What?”

  “It’s for one of my students. The gods of justice actually smiled for once and put her abuser away for a long time on several counts. But we’re really celebrating because she landed her dream job.” Jessica wanted to look forward, not back, so the party was all about her bright future, not her dark past. The scumbag’s name wouldn’t even come up.

  Amanda smiled and shook her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m really proud of you, you know that? You’re becoming a real girl, Pinocchio.”

  “I can still cut you in half.”

  “But you won’t, because then you’d have another mess to clean up before the party.”

  “That’s the only reason.”

  “Love you, too. So when’s the party?”

  “Tonight after the last class.”

  A loud banging on the door interrupted us. The ‘closed’ sign wasn’t always a deterrent on Colfax.

  A guy with a spray tan, bleached buzzcut, and a crooked nose stood outside. His black tank top was covered in Chinese characters. I smirked. One read, “Property of a horse’s ass.” That was the nice one.

  When he saw me approaching, he banged on the door again. I pointed to the “closed” sign. He shook his head and balled his fist again. I didn’t feel like replacing the glass, so I opened the door.

  “I’m here for class,” he said.

  “Try the Dale Carnegie Training Center over on Hampden.”

  “No. I want to take a class from you.”

  “Sorry, next class is women only.”

  “That’s sexist.” He glared at me. Nobody had eyes that blue. I suspected colored contacts.

  My headache ratcheted up. Amanda stood behind me. I could feel her pull up magic, getting ready to blast. I wouldn’t need her help with this turd. I only wished my students were in attendance, so I could use him for a demonstration. It wouldn’t be the first time. When you’re a woman trying to stand up for yourself, a fight’s never far away.

  “Today is women only. Get out.”

  “Yeah, check your privilege,” Amanda said.

  The guy grabbed his outsized crotch. “My privilege is fucking great, wanna see?”

  “I don’t have an electron microscope handy,” I said.

  Amanda’s hands started to glow, so I motioned her back.

  “It’s okay, Amanda. This asshole watched Karate Kid one too many times and took home the wrong message.” I turned back to him. “Did the idiot down the street send you to test me or are you a freelance asshole?” My third thought was that he was one of my students’ exes. They came around every so often to try and intimidate us. They never came back. Sometimes, people never saw them again.

  The asshole charged like a linebacker. His strength surprised me. He was built more like a bodybuilder than a weightlifter, someone going for looks over power. Also, he wasn’t too bad on his feet. He’d studied somewhere. There was something familiar about his style, but I couldn’t place it.

  I caught the guy and let his momentum carry him over my shoulder and slammed him on the floor behind me. I expected him to either stay down or stagger back up and go after me again. Instead, he jumped up, turned, and sprinted into the dojo.

  “Bastard!” Amanda and I followed him. I thought about the swords and other weapons lining the dojo walls. I wasn’t worried about myself – if he cut me, I’d just heal right away, and he’d have to get close enough to me to swing, which wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t worried about Amanda, either. I could feel the magic stored in her hands just aching to come out. No, I was worried because I’d just polished everything and polishing was a bitch.

  Sure enough, he grabbed the first katana he could and spun around. His grip was all wrong.

  “What? Do you bat for the Rockies?” I went low
just as he swung. I kicked his legs out from under him. His chin made a satisfying clunk as it hit the boards. The katana went spinning off and I hoped it didn’t scratch the floor finish.

  I was watching the sword instead of the guy, so Amanda surprised me when she said, “Oh, gross. You did not just do that.” I looked in time to see his tongue disappear back into his mouth. The sicko had just licked the dojo floor.

  He giggled at us as he made an obscene gesture with two fingers and that dirty tongue.

  “Oh, that’s it.” I pulled the next closest katana off the wall, not caring about any bloodstains since I was going to have to re-mop the floor anyway.

  “Allow me.” Amanda raised her hands, spoke some arcane words, and the guy’s face went funny. So did my head.

  “Check your privilege now, pervert.”

  The asshole’s eyes went wide as he grabbed his now less-substantial crotch.

  “Nothing in there but the sock you stuffed in your tighty whities this morning, darlin’.”

  I would have laughed, but my head felt woozy. I also would have chased after him when he went for the back alley exit, but the pain was too distracting.

  “Let him go, Kelly. He’s just some Colfax freak getting his jollies.”

  “What about the spell?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s temporary. By the time he’s sitting in the ER at Denver Health blabbing about his missing pecker, it’ll re-sprout. Probably scare a nurse, though.”

  “No, they don’t scare that easily. She’ll just slap it down if it stands at attention. So when did you learn the penis-removing spell?”

  “I didn’t. I just hit him with a spell that would take away the thing he treasures most about himself. I was hoping his head would fall off, and in a sense, I guess it did. Why do guys stuff their underwear, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Leave the big ones to the size queens. I prefer quality over quantity.”

  Amanda tilted her head. “Are you okay? You look, I don’t know, queasy.”

  “I think I might have been hit by some friendly-fire. I feel…” I thought about it. “I feel weak.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Amanda took my arm and led me back to the front of the dojo. She plopped me down in a chair and turned on the TV. Then she went off to mop the floor.

  I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore. It was a thing Jonathan and I did, and it wasn’t as much fun without his sometimes snide, sometimes insightful commentary after a show. I only have a TV in the dojo because sometimes my students bring their kids and it’s the quickest way to keep them quiet. I’m a martial-arts instructor, not a child care specialist.

  After a couple commercials aimed at making me feel inferior for using the wrong razor and shampoo (neither made me feel anything but annoyed) a good-looking white-haired guy started talking about the importance of craftsmanship and the insanity that goes into it. I could get behind that message. I glanced over at Amanda to see how she was doing with the floor, and when I looked back, I was riveted.

  There on the screen was the most beautiful knife I’d ever seen. It was folded metal like a katana, and the pattern was exquisite. But what got me was, the thing had been forged out of a meteorite. A chunk of metal had fallen out of the sky and a master craftsman refined it and turned it into a thing of beauty and usefulness.

  Amanda said something back in the dojo. I waved my hand to shush her until the segment was over.

  “Oh my goddess,” she said. “You’ve got a crush on Anthony Bourdain? That figures. The guy ate a barbecued iguana and a duck fetus and lived.”

  “I don’t have a crush on him. I think I have a crush on his knife.” Though I had to admit he was easy on the eyes for an older guy, and funny like Jonathan had been, in a sarcastic way. So maybe I did, a little.

  “How are you feeling? Better?”

  I nodded. Most of the weakness had passed. Even the tightness around my head had loosened up. ”Want to stick around for the party?”

  “As much as I’d love to see you play Martha Stewart, I gotta go. Everybody’s expected to put in overtime since the new CEO took over.”

  Amanda had been persuaded to take a job at DGI a few months ago. She had always worked freelance, supported by her magic, setting her own hours, working on her terms. I didn’t think corporate life would agree with her. And it didn’t, at first. The office politics nearly killed her, literally. DGI is Dragon Gate Industries, a magical firm employing wizards and witches, including Amanda, along with the occasional vampire, shapeshifter, or other paranormal. They were responsible for turning me from an innocent eight-year-old girl into a Sekutar warrior. I was just one of their projects, and then one of their problems.

  Amanda wasn’t in quite the same situation – no one was torturing her to death, at least not yet. But she’d had a few run-ins with colleagues that left her wondering when the torture might start.

  Up until she met Liz.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amanda and I are not “ladies who lunch.” We don’t belong to a knitting circle. Well, I don’t, and the one Amanda belongs to routinely discusses the best ways to put demons down. So I was surprised when a month ago she invited me out shopping, and to meet her supervisor from DGI, a woman named Liz. Surprised, and leery.

  Last month, I met up with them in a boutique at The Streets of Southglenn – one of those yuppie mixed-use places that’s supposed to come across like an upscale Mayberry but feels more like everyone’s a tourist on the set of a 1950s TV show.

  Walking up, I spotted Amanda through the boutique window admiring a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. She had an almost rapturous look on her face – more so than usual when she’s found something she likes. She turned her head and said something over her shoulder. A woman appeared next to her, one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.

  I stopped in my tracks. In a red coat that still managed to kiss every curve, she looked like she’d lost her way to the Oscars. I couldn’t tell from where I stood, but I figured she was standing on a giant half-shell, and that flying baby cupids would start circling her head any minute. She was tall and willowy, with thick, bronze-colored hair, perfectly symmetrical features in a flawless face and ruby lips that looked like they never stopped smiling. She took the snakeskin boot out of Amanda’s hand, picked up the other one, and faded back into the store. Amanda looked like she was both laughing and protesting as she turned and followed, disappearing from my view.

  When I stepped inside, they were standing at the cashier’s counter as a clerk opened a tote bag and dropped a big shoebox into it. Amanda was actually blushing and giggling.

  “No, really, deduct it from my next paycheck,” she said.

  “Absolutely not! Think of it as a bonus for working so hard on the Zimmer Project. I know how much everyone fought you on that, and I admire how you stood your ground. You’re strong, Amanda.” Liz’s voice was so lovely it hushed the other customers in the store. We all tried to catch every word.

  “Thank you.” Amanda said in a humbled whisper.

  Now I could see why she liked Liz.

  A string of bells chimed against the front door as it closed behind me. Amanda looked up, and almost didn’t recognize me. Then she smiled, grabbed Liz’s arm and dragged her laughing across the store.

  “Kelly, I want you to meet Liz!” I’d rarely heard such excitement in Amanda’s voice, even when introducing me to her latest boo. “Liz, this is Kelly.”

  Instead of extending her hand, Liz gave me a little bow. That earned her points right off the bat.

  “It’s a pleasure, Kelly. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Not all of it good, I’m sure.”

  Amanda frowned and shook her head like I’d just let out a gut-busting fart. I nearly turned to look at my own ass, just to make sure I hadn’t.

  Truth is, I was purposely rude. I thought people like Liz tended to smooth things over with flattery and I wanted to test her reactions. She was DGI, after all.

  Liz’s perma-
smile took on a slightly more somber shape, but by no means disappeared. “You’re right. It hasn’t all been good. A lot of it is just downright awful.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She looked like she was watching a busload of kittens, babies, and nuns slide off a cliff into a pit full of vipers and broken glass.

  Liz put her arm around Amanda’s shoulders and squeezed. “Of course, Amanda’s said nothing but good things. I might have been hesitant to meet you, otherwise.” Liz laughed, and the sun brightened outside. “But her opinion means a lot to me. As a matter of fact, it outweighs the, excuse my language, shit that I hear at work. I admire loyalty, Kelly, and Amanda is totally loyal to you. There’s not a lot of that going around these days, at least not in my business.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Amanda said.

  Liz tilted her head toward Amanda, but didn’t take her eyes off me. “I hope that maybe you and I can, if not become friends, at least dispel some of the bad feelings you might have toward me because of my choice of employers.”

  “I’ll think about it.” The truth was, Liz had gained a measure of respect from me just for being honest. Maybe I’d misjudged her.

  “Miss? Don’t forget your boots.” The clerk held up the shopping bag.

  “Oh, right!” Amanda looked back at the clerk, then at Liz, then me. “Are we leaving? Did you want to look around first, Kel?”

  I wasn’t into clubbing – at least not the kind where you dance and peel drunk guys off your body – and I already owned a little black dress for formal occasions, so the boutique held nothing of interest to me. I scanned the customers again, judging who might be a threat more out of habit than anything else.

  “Would you rather see a show, Kelly?” Liz asked. “I noticed a Mission Impossible movie listed at the theater down the street.”

  “You like action movies?”

  “Well, Amanda and I already saw the latest DC had to offer, and the next Marvel isn’t out yet, so it’ll do.”

  I swear, Amanda practically floated off the ground. She’s the biggest comic book fan I know, and has a hard time finding other women who were as interested. I was tempted to ask if maybe she wanted to go curtain shopping with Liz and then get a room. I decided to be nice instead.