The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Colin Morris, sitting in his office, listening to headphones, turned his chair away from the window, coming face to face with Renée Belloc.

“How nice to see you, Colin,” Renée smiled, adjusting her bowler hat, “the information you gave me last time was not satisfactory.”

“So?” he said, looking from Renée to Anna, who was leaning against a wall, regarding the scene with an unreadable expression on her face. “Who’s the leather chick?”

“Pay her no mind, Colin,” Renée said, “I will need access to files in your possession, and you are aware that you should not have crossed me.”

“Okay,” Colin began, “So we play good cop, and …” he looked at Anna.

“I kill people.” Anna said, fixing him with a look that was ice-cold.

“So … bad cop … that-time-of-the-month cop.”

“Oh,” Renée sighed, “you should not have said that.” She watched as the man’s eyes suddenly went wide and saw Anna walking calmly, slowly across the room, pulling the biggest handgun she had ever seen from her coat and attaching a large silencer to its barrel.

“Quiver and squirm all you want, little man,” Anna growled, “it won’t help you,” she placed the silencer against his forehead, “she gets the information she wants ... or I turn your head into a canoe and spread your brains out on the floor like a Pollack painting, and we can read what we need from the goo, like tea leaves.”

“If you shoot me ...” he said, shakily, eyes staring at the gun, “… the whole building will hear.”

“This is the Wildey magnum, powerful enough to vaporize whatever passes for brainpower in that head of yours, but you’ll notice it’s also equipped with a fully functional silencer, which means that I could kill you, have a drink at your bar over there, and then stop for a chocconutty from the machine down the hall, and still be long gone before anybody knows you’re dead.”

“Now, now,” Renée began, ‘none of that will be necessary.” She placed a laptop into the terrified man’s lap, “Colin will be happy to enter his password and let me see his files, won’t you, Colin?”

Two nights later, a security truck passed by on its uneventful patrol outside of a private airport near Las Vegas. As the tail lights faded around a corner, a blonde head appeared above the fence, followed shortly by a figure all in black leather slipping gracefully over and disappearing into the desert night.

Anna stopped after closing the door behind her. There were noises coming from the dining room; laughter and giggling, mostly.

She moved slowly, peering around the corner to see Renée and a man she didn’t know, an array of Chinese take-out containers, and a large bowl of liquid and ice, as well as several bottles of liquor.

“Anna!” Renée bubbled, putting down a cup, apparently full of the same liquid from the bowl. “Anna, this is Milton ... he is our building superintendent, and my personal savior.” she giggled slightly, “we are drinking.”

“Really?” Anna raised an eyebrow. “Hi Milton,” Anna smiled, extending a hand to the man who appeared to be in his sixties, “I’m Anna.”

“Hello Anna,” Milton shook the hand, appearing to be making effort not to stare at Anna’s leather outfit and the way it accentuated her cleavage.

“I needed to shop for food and left my key at home,” Renée said, refilling her cup and taking a drink, “Milton let me in, so I am feeding him,” she took another drink, “you should try this, it came highly recommended from the Chinese place down the street, they call it a scorpion bowl. There is alcohol in it,” she said, taking another.”

“Never would have guessed,” Anna said with a smile, filling a cup of her own.

“Oh don’t give me that look!” Renée scolded. “She always gives me that look,” she turned to Milton. “She thinks she’d have a better plan,” Renée wrinkled her nose after taking another drink, “she gets all I keew peepowe and thinks it makes her superior.” she turned back to Anna, “sure, you’d kill people and still be stuck on the other side of the door.“

‘Not if I killed someone with a key,” Anna took a drink.

“Touché,” Renée raised her cup to Anna’s while making a “clink” sound.

“So what is this stuff?” Milton asked, holding up an ornately decorated bottle, about to pour it into a glass.

“It’s green,” Anna said.

“Absinthe,” Renée said, “that is absinthe ... you need to be very careful mixing that. Americans ... you have no clue.”

“There she goes again.” Anna rolled her eyes.

“Oh you shut up,” Renée shot back, sticking out her tongue. “The only things you people do well are cheddar cheese and those heavenly freedom fries ... ooh! I could die eating freedom fries.” She took the bottle and glass from Milton, “here is how to do it and get the fairy magic.”

“Just how many have you had?” Anna gave her a sideways look.

“Three,” Renée said, and then paused, standing up weavily to go to the refrigerator, “er, um, five ... oh, well, some ... oh, shut up.” she came back with a pitcher of cold water and a glass with ice in it. “The key is cold water, and ice, and sugar cubes. Pour over the cube and through the slotted spoon and the green fairy will work her magic ... see?” She handed the slightly smoking glass of bright, icy green back to the man.

“What’s in it?” Milton asked, drinking.

“Only that which will steal your soul,” Anna said.

“Oh ...” Milton took a deeper drink, “no big loss.”

“I have to go,” Renée said abruptly, and stood up, walking a somewhat straight line out of the room.

“I’ll bet you do,” Anna smiled, watching her leave the room, and then turned toward Milton, her expression suddenly losing its smile.

“So you know?” Milton met her gaze.

“I knew as soon as I saw you.”

“And what do we do now?” he asked.

Anna fixed him with an even deeper stare. “You couldn’t do it, could you?”

Milton didn’t say anything.

“You found us, moved in, and then you couldn’t do it.”

“I’m getting old ...” he paused. “This job just didn’t make sense ... You still didn’t answer my question.”

“You know who I am,” Anna went on, “and you know what has happened to the ones they’ve sent before you.” The look on his face confirmed that he did. Her expression softened a bit, hearing Renée saying something ... no, singing something in French. She stared more deeply into his eyes. “You’re going to continue here,” she said, “you’re going to keep feeding information to your boss, but you will tell them only what I wish them to know, yes?”

“Yes,” he said blankly.

“You will protect her because protecting her is the most important thing in your life, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You will continue here comfortably, and feel wonderful knowing that you’re doing the right thing, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Now you will wake up, feeling wonderful, and enjoying a good buzz, and knowing deep down that you’ve made the right decision.”

“This is the Major,” the slightly tinned male voice clipped as the line connected.

“Director Solera Dale,” Anna said flatly.

“Your code please,” the voice asked.

“Kunoichi.” Anna said, her voice tight.

There was a pause: “One moment, please.”

“The prodigal returns,” a female voice said after a few moments. “And how is my little black cat?”

Anna bit her lip; the feelings were strong, the impulses from the thousands of tiny machines in her body sang their need for her to respond in a certain way, but she swept them away as best she could with her mind. “Hello,” she said simply.

“Erica, how are you?” the voice responded, even trying to sound concerned. The woman conveyed a commanding presence, one used to being obeyed.

“That is not my name,” Anna almost growled.

“I see,” The Director said, “Anna, then, is it?” She paused before continuing, “I wonder though: how can you be sure you aren’t Erica, and that Anna is just a dream?“

She could feel the trigger words in her mind, her body, and what they did to her, and it took everything not to let them. Anna closed her eyes tightly, almost as if in pain and then opening them she looked across at her small night table in her sparsely furnished room and focused on the two pictures that stood there. One showed a gray farmhouse with a woman and child sitting in front and the other was her and Renée smiling in a picture booth over a puff of cotton candy, “I don’t answer to the poison shit you filled me with any more.”

“I see,” The Director almost purred. “I should know, after all, given how your last visit home went. I wonder, though, how much is left of what Anna was and how much of you is Erica: our creation, Erica. ”

“You will see that no more of your people come after her,” Anna said tightly. “You will see to it, or I will be coming for you, and you know that I will find you wherever you go.”

“I know you will, Anna,” she said. “You were the best, most perfect creation. When we found you, you were nothing, running away with big dreams of dancing, and then ...” she paused. “You were such an apt pupil, and then you began to teach us. Those abilities you kept hidden, they were the key, I knew it. They—the others—wondered how we lost control when you came back and killed so many of us. I didn’t. I always knew why my little black cat went astray.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know you better than you know yourself, Anna,” she said softly. " I know you would gladly kill me without hesitation, just as I know why you won’t kill me after all.”

Anna said nothing, squeezing her pillow tight with her free hand.

“Something in the world makes you want to live even more than my nanomachines want you to kill, only … if I tell you to kill her, what will you do? Can you trust yourself around her, knowing it would please me if you killed her and came back to me?” The line went dead.

“You know nothing.” Anna breathed into the empty air, letting the phone slip from her hand and curling up in a ball.

A short while later the door creaked slightly as Renée peered quietly into the dimly lit room. Anna lay motionless, uncovered, on the small bed near the wall. With several rooms to choose from in the suite they shared, she had never understood why Anna had chosen the smallest as hers, or why she kept it so nearly empty. On the wall above the bed was a rack which held a katana and below it a simple clock, otherwise the eggshell colored walls were bare. Renée walked slowly past the exercise mat on the floor, and crawled carefully into bed next to Anna, who stirred slightly as two arms encircled her waist.

“Security sucks here,” Renée said as they crouched behind a piece of heavy machinery.

“I think you should say it louder,” Anna scolded.

“Well, look at you, Miss Doesn’t-Get-Hangovers.” Renée pulled at her cloche hat against a breeze and turned to face her in the semidarkness, “Tell me what your part of planning this was?”

Anna rolled her eyes.

“That’s right,” Renée said, “I make the plans and you don’t.”

“Hey,” Anna shot back, “I came up with the outfit.”

“Oh, sure,” Renée mocked. “You thought of wearing black leather.”

“Well it works, doesn’t it?” Anna said, leading the way, moving to the next cover, a heavy towing vehicle. And, as she peered over it, she stopped cold. “So, what’s the plan if the plane isn’t here?”

“It has to be there,” Renée rose out of hiding just enough to look at the now empty parking area, as Anna turned her head quickly, listening.

“Down!” Anna shoved Renée down and moved to cover her, just in time as there was a series of pffutt sounds and several darts found their marks on her back.

Footsteps approached as the two women sank to the ground, “Yeah, I got ’em,” a man said into his cufflink, and approached cautiously.

He stood over the two motionless bodies with a dart gun in one hand and a Beretta in the other. He dropped a shoulder bag to the ground in order to bend for a closer look.

The movement was almost quicker than he could perceive, and much faster than he could react to. The leather-clad woman kicked out a leg, knocking his knee out from under him, and in the same motion she was instantly standing over him, holding the dart gun.

Pffutt, he looked up at her as the dart in his chest took effect and his vision went dark.

“Stay down,” Anna said, drawing her Wildey magnum.

Renée looked at the size of the firearm and at Anna’s slim frame and wondered quietly how she had kept it concealed, “He called someone,” she said, softly. “The darts ... you’re okay?”

“I hear two of them”, Anna whispered, then paused, “no, three, she pointed toward different compass points, “and yes, I’ll be fine in a few minutes. We need better cover.” She looked around. “Those boxes,” she said, pointing to her left. “He has a revolver on his ankle; put it in your coat pocket. The Beretta: give it to me, any spare ammo, too.”

“You already have a gun,” Renée said, pocketing the revolver which was exactly where Anna said it was. “Why so greedy?”

“Getting away with it one-oh-one,” Anna said, slipping the Wildey into her coat—where it miraculously seemed to vanish—and taking the offered Beretta. “If you’re going to kill three hit men, always use the gun of the unconscious hit man so, when the cops come, they arrest him and not you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Renée said, and shushed Anna who seemed about to say for once. “But wait; I have a plan, and, oh, look what I found!” She had opened the bag and pulled out a compact sub-machine gun.

“HK,” Anna said, taking it, “and what’s the plan?”

“You shoot at them, scare the Hell out of them and we run that way,” she pointed, “we can get away and you don’t kill anyone.”

“We have nine minutes after the shooting starts before security gets here,” Anna said, taking two spare magazines from the bag, “and we have seventeen until the police come, so, whatever you’ve got planned, it better be fast.”

“You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Wait for a count of three after the shooting starts and I’ll follow you,” Anna said, standing and moving into firing position, a gun in each hand. A shot rang out, just as Anna stepped out into the open and, with only a slight turn of her head, she pointed the Beretta and fired three rounds, which grouped tightly in the side of a water tanker, causing it to start spraying water, drenching the hidden shooter. Anna turned slightly, firing two bursts with the HK; the shots erupted against a piece of fire suppression equipment. She turned again, firing two shots into a stack of crates.

The shooting had lasted no more than five seconds. Three men broke from cover at once and fired, their bullets piercing empty air as their prey-turned-predator was no longer anywhere to be seen.

“So what’s the plan?” Anna said, coming up beside Renée as she crouched next to a plane behind a large hangar.

“This,” Renée said, “this is the plan.” She gestured to the bright yellow-winged and blue-bodied, open cockpit biplane.

“What the hell is this?”

“It is an airplane, I think.” Renée said, deadpan.

Anna looked up at it, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“What rest?” Renée snapped back, “it is a Stearman, a Kaydet, a Boeing PT-17. It is mine.”

“Yours?” Anna rolled her eyes, “I knew you were going to buy a plane, but I always thought there’d be more of it.”

“We were casing this place, I saw it and fell in love and signed the papers yesterday,” Renée started to climb up on the wing, “the plan is we get in, you keep your head down and I fly us away before the police get here.”

“Fly?” Anna looked around, listening, wondering how long until the police arrived. “It still has glue drying on the wings.”

“Are you getting in, or are you going to stay and explain to the police about the bullet holes in everything?”

Anna said nothing for several seconds. “I don’t like to fly.”

“Mon dieu!” Renée burst out laughing, “you steal airplanes for a living and you don’t like to fly? And this you tell me now? Oh putain de merde!”

“I don’t steal them,” Anna listened again, “You’re the one who steals the planes, I just distract the police until you can make the delivery and clear the paperwork ... and I kill people if we need that.”

“Yes, well, right now,” Renée began as the engine turned over slowly and then faster as oil was circulated through it, “we need you to get in the plane and keep your head down.” She turned the engine again and it coughed once, creating a lot of blue smoke.

“We could just fight them, you know.” Anna stood where she was, looking at the growing smoke cloud. Her head turned slightly as she heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

“I know you like to show off your lovely figure and pretty leather to the police officers, sweetie,” Renée said as the engine finally caught and even more smoke came forth, “but, right now, I want you to shut up and get in the fucking plane!”

As the engine came up to speed and the smoke quickly cleared, Anna gave one more listen to the still distant sirens and climbed into the front seat.

Renée waited a few seconds, until she was satisfied with the pitch of the engine and the few gauges in front of her showed readings in the green and the plane started moving. She pulled on an old-style leather flying cap and goggles, turning the plane toward an open space and accelerating.

Anna turned at the sound of shots, three men were running toward them, but they were too late, the little plane leapt into the air, rolling slightly and climbing, steering into the coming dawn.

Anna had been fiddling with the seat harness when something thumped against her head and then dropped into her lap. She picked up the leather helmet and looked back to see Renée give the thumbs up, and a big smile behind her goggles. That girl and her hats, Anna thought.

“Fasten your seatbelts and return all tray tables to their upright positions,” Anna heard as she settled the embedded earphones into place. She looked around, seeing a pair of black dots several miles away, moving against the backdrop of the ground, “as you can see, we’re here, they’re way back down there.” She let out a triumphant laugh: “Ha ha! I am the goddess of the skies!”

And so modest, too, Anna thought, “You should tell them about your plan, great goddess,” she said, pointing backward and down.

“What?” Renée followed the point, seeing the two black specks which were rapidly growing into helicopters. “500 series, very old school spooky spy stuff.”

“You have a plan, right?” Anna said, going back to trying to fasten her safety harness.

“Well,” Renée said, as the engine rose in pitch noticeably and the aircraft gained speed, “they have a slight speed advantage and can be fitted with machine guns and or rockets ... those, by the look, have the guns, I think.”

“And we have?” Anna looked back again.

“We have a much better pilot.” The plane suddenly dove and Anna grabbed the sides of her seat, trying to keep from flying out.

The helicopters were suddenly far above them and slow to react. Anna reached out with her mind, only to be met with the same peaceful euphoria as before, the seductive call of blankness which beckoned her to open up and fall into it, to become one with it. The same image appeared in her mind as she struggled to close it out. Goddess, the mind she had touched sighed.

She closed her eyes, blocking out and severing the contact. Obviously, she knew, trying to influence the course of things that way wasn’t going to work. Whoever had programmed those minds had done it very thoroughly, and it almost seemed like they were waiting for her to try.

The helicopters were catching up now, diving on them as the rocky desert raced upward, the plane rolled and lurched sharply to the right, coming level at less than a hundred feet off the ground. From behind there was the sound of gunfire, followed shortly by the sound of several bullet impacts to the upper wing. The plane rolled quickly left, then just as quickly right, repeating the motion as they steered toward a row of radio towers.

“Head down, please,” Anna heard as she turned, pointing her Wildey at the nearest helicopter, firing three shots, which could be seen impacting against the bubble windshield. The helicopter didn’t even change course. Damn, Anna thought, they’re really deep. Whatever mind control had been used on the pilots, it seemed that it overrode any fear of being hit.

“Hold on,” Renée yelled in the headset as the plane swerved suddenly leftward, standing on its wingtip and passing between two very closely spaced towers, only to abruptly reverse direction and come straight back at the pursuing choppers.

Machine guns barked, but the shots found only empty air as the plane dove beneath its pursuers, passing between the towers at about ten feet of elevation. Above, one of the helicopters erupted in a shower of sparks as its rotor caught one of the towers and it was drawn in, colliding with the tower and falling to the ground with a loud crash.

“Well for someone who doesn’t kill people ...” Anna began, but stopped as the plane shifted sharply into a banking climb. She grabbed onto her seat tightly instead.

“What kill?” Renée shot back, “they simply can’t fly and hit the tower that we were able to miss.”

The remaining helicopter was behind them again, as Renée dodged more gunfire. “And you didn’t want to fly.”

“Well,” Anna turned to give Renée a sideways look, “I Didn’t know when I woke up yesterday that I’d be flying on Jolly Fats Weehawken.”

“Oh, that’s cold,” Renée said, swinging the plane into a steep bank. The helicopter was very close behind, and the evasive actions were made less effective as a result. “Hold on!” Renée’s voice commanded in Anna’s ears, and then the plane lurched upward, pinning her to the seat. At once, they were upside down, directly above the helicopter, which was not quite fifty feet below them.

“Woo hoo!” Renée whooped in the headset as the plane reached the apex of its loop. Anna, on the other hand suddenly felt herself falling. As the plane slowed rapidly in the maneuver the G-forces which had held her in the seat vanished, and she grabbed frantically for something, anything.

“Aïe!” Renée squeaked, seeing Anna hanging in front of her, clinging to her seatbelt harness.

Anna turned her head, then looked down, toward the helicopter frozen in that instant below her. Turning back to Renée whose face had gone pale, Anna smiled, almost calmly, and let go with her right hand, drawing her gun and pointing it at the chopper while hanging by her left arm which had the seatbelt wrapped around it. She aimed the huge handgun at the center hub of the top rotor and fired, emptying the magazine. Smoke and sparks began to spew from the mechanism. The chopper jerked harshly to the side, and then began to quickly fall away, with thick black smoke flowing from its engines.

Still appearing calm, Anna replaced the gun in its holster and smiled at Renée as the plane began to nose down, “Roll out,” Anna’s voice in her ears woke Renée from her brief horror-trance and she realized, amazed, at what she was being told to do. Anna reached out with her free hand to grab the trailing edge of the upper wing, just as the plane began to roll out of its loop, Her body twisted gymnastically in the air, aiming, positioning as she fell back into her seat.

“Holy fuck,” Anna yelled through the adrenaline rush, “I love flying!”

“Do anything like that again,” Renée spoke slowly through the headset, “and I will kill you myself.”

“Didn’t your mother tell you that you should always check the tank when you go on a trip?”

Renée stood next to the plane, silently fuming, ignoring the comment. Anna sat next to a small fire she’d built.

“Would you prefer the smallish bird, the medium bird, the lizard, or the Gila monster?” Anna pointed to the assortment of things roasting on sticks. While Renée had fussed over the plane, she had busied herself at hunting with small rocks.

“Not really hungry,” Renée wrinkled her nose, watching Anna select the Lizard.

“Mmmmm, crunchy,” she said. The plane was parked next to a large boulder, shaded against the afternoon sun, near the entrance to a narrow canyon. “Talk to me,” Anna said, looking at Renée, who had sat across from her and was just staring ahead silently.

“I never ...” Renée began and trailed off.

“You did what you had to and did it well,” Anna said, “and you saved both of us. I didn’t see either chopper all the way down so we don’t even know what happened to them.”

“So that’s it, is it?”

“No,” Anna said slowly, “it’s not.”

Renée just looked at her quietly.

“When I was ... when they got me, they made me into this thing, this killing thing,” Anna said. “They put these machines in me to make me do what they wanted, learn anything they wanted, make me change my looks to fit any mission,” she paused, “Their programming was relentless, they strapped on this machine that made you see, feel, hear everything it wanted. There was a plane full of people and I woke into it, knowing that one of them was a terrorist. I had seconds to find them and kill them before the plane blew up. Sometimes it was a guy who looked like a terrorist and sometimes it was a little old lady. Sometimes it was a little kid. I knew who they were and had to walk up and shoot them. That was the mission ... fail it and I could feel everything. I could feel the plane crashing, and feel my body burning.” Anna stopped, drawing a breath.

“When they sent me out the first time, it was a crime boss. Their machines had me and I couldn’t feel anything about it. I could only feel how good it was to obey them, and he was a crime boss, a killer, so it felt easy. He was at a wedding, and I walked up, looking just like his mistress. He stared at me... they all stared at me paralyzed in shock as I pulled a pistol out of a bouquet of flowers and shot him straight in the head. They all stared, ten of his killers around him, frozen in time as he fell. Afterward I was never sure whether they were real or more simulations ... I don’t think it’s ever supposed to feel normal. They made it feel like nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Renée stood up and walked toward outcropping nearby. “I’m sorry ... I can’t.”

Anna watched her walk, stuck, watching her disappear behind the rocks, knowing she wanted to go ... to help, but not knowing ... she half stood and then sunk back, thinking. It was only a second later that she abruptly stood, knowing she had to go after Renée, without really knowing what to say or do when she got there.

Suddenly there were voices, a shout and a scream. Renée screamed and Anna was running as engines rose with a whine. As Anna rounded the corner she saw two more of the helicopters taking off, already a hundred yards away and shrinking away fast, dust kicking up in the wind that whipped at her face. She reached out with her mind to feel Renée, her fear, and then feel her drift off into a drugged sleep.

Anna stood, watching in the rotor-wash, resolved, knowing that there would be nowhere for them to hide from her.

Colin Morris looked through the peep hole of his apartment door to see a voluptuous Asian woman wearing a big haired blonde wig and a pink fur coat. “Trixie!” he fumed. “What did that bimbo forget now?”

“Mister Moron, sir,” the bubbly voice came through the speaker, “I forgotted my …” as the voice paused, Morris saw the woman blankly chewing her finger nail.

“Come in, dammit,” Morris said, opening the door for her and turning to walk to the bedroom. “You know, Trixie, maybe I should get a better whore.”

“Maybe Trixie should get a better asshole to fuck,” came a voice from behind that wasn’t Trixie.

“You,” Morris turned around to see Anna standing there in Trixie’s coat, wearing a pair of electric blue spandex leggings and white ankle boots, “what the fuck?”

“Like the coat?” Anna shot forward, grabbing Morris and pinning him against the wall.

“What did you do to Trixie?”

“Touching concern, really,” Anna said, showing him a large Bowie knife. “Unnecessary, though; I gave her two hundred dollars and she gave me the coat.”

“Bitch!” he growled, “That bitch led you to me.”

“Actually, no; you weren’t hard to find,” Anna said, turning the blade so he could see it clearly. “Now, you little shit, you’re going to tell me how to find whoever you work for.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wrong answer, worm,” she moved the knife tip to where it rested on his forehead. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about the women in the jumpsuits and the black helicopters ... the people you sold us out to.”

“You’re,” he paused, eyes transfixed on the knife, “you’re crazy. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, they’re ...”

“You know who you’re dealing with now,” she hissed. “I’m a lot closer, and you’re going to tell me everything. In fact, making me happy is the most important thing in your existence right now.”

“Or you’ll kill me. I got that already.”

“No,” she slid the knife slowly along his skin, just barely touching, “you’ll tell me ... or you’ll plead with me ... you’ll beg me to kill you, long before I allow you to die. The question is really what I cut off first.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Morris said, the fight going out of his voice as he stared at the knife, and the intense blue eyes beyond it. “Why? Why are you doing this? I mean you two hate each other?”

“Let’s just say it’s that time of the month.” She half smiled, “Now tell me everything you know about the goddess, and then make sure I never see you again.“