Cyberevolution V: Illumination
Tormented by a past he discovered had never existed, the hunter, Seth, had begun to suspect the unpalatable, unbelievable truth long before he came face to face with … himself, the rogue Cyborg, Simon—identical to him in every way but one—Simon had no soul. He hadn’t been born. Simon had been created in a lab just as his partner Cole had been.
Length: Epic Novel
Word Count: 101,866
Genre: Sci-Fi/Futuristic Romance
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
Cover art (c) copyright 2012 Jenny Dixon
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Clair was still so angry when she reached her mother’s house that the grief that had nearly overwhelmed every waking moment since her mother’s death barely caused her a pang as she stopped at the gate to key in the security code. She’d dreaded the task of wrapping up her mother’s affairs, of sorting her mother’s belongings, and trying to decide what to do with her personal affects and the home they’d shared for most of her childhood. She’d put it off as long as she felt like she could before she’d dredged up the inner strength to face it.
Only to be met with the discovery that those bastards at Robotics, Inc., where her mother had slaved for more than thirty years, thought they were entitled to all her mother’s worldly possessions!
She didn’t give a damn if they were laboring under the impression that her mother had no next of kin! She still didn’t know how they could have failed know it when her mother had worked for them so long, but … fuck their damned clause!
It was an outrage that they’d had the gall even to put such a damned clause in their contracts! It wasn’t enough that they’d profited from her mother’s brilliant mind for more than thirty years, claimed everything she’d ever discovered or invented? They thought they could take everything she’d accumulated over the years and put it back into their pocket, too?
The slimy bastards!
A vague sense of satisfaction wafted through her as the gates opened to allow her into the compound. The look on their faces had been priceless when the judge had examined her documentation and informed them that she was her mother’s sole beneficiary!
Take that, you slimy, money grubbing sons-of-a-bitch!
Maybe the house still belonged to the company—they were going to have to prove that in court, though. She’d fight them every step of the way if it took every credit she had to her name, but everything else, everything inside the house and outside of the house, was hers, by damn! If it wasn’t part of the property, had been purchased by her mother, then it certainly wasn’t theirs.
She had a good mind to dig up her mother’s rose garden while she was at it. Her mother had bought them and planted them!
Shutting off her hover-car, she barely waited for it to settle to the ground in front of the door before she shoved the door open and got out. She paused when she had, though, trying to take a few calming breaths.
Her throat closed as she stared at the house, her anger dying to a slow simmer.
She couldn’t believe her mother was gone.
There was no way she was ever going to be able accept that her mother had taken her own life. It just wasn’t possible. She would’ve known if her mother had been depressed enough to have such thoughts. She knew she would have!
Thrusting those thoughts aside, she strode purposefully to the front door and keyed in the security code. The door opened.
The lights didn’t come on when she stepped across the threshold. “Lights!”
Frowning when nothing happened, she stepped back to the wall and skimmed her hand along the surface until she finally found the manual switch. Relief filled her when the lights flickered on.
She’d more than half-suspected the bastards had had the power turned off just for spite.
Puzzled, she glanced around the living room, but she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She hadn’t realized that she was listening to the house until she heard, faintly, the sound of running water.
Her heart bounced into her throat and tried to strangle her. Her mind went chaotic. The sound connected in her mind, though, to her mother’s pride and joy—the ‘natural’ shower she loved. Without stopping to think that it couldn’t possibly be her mother, Clair closed the door and headed toward her mother’s room … rushed, a mixture of excitement and dread pounding through her.
It wasn’t until she’d stepped into her mother’s room that the truth hit her. Her mother was dead. She knew her mother was dead. She’d had to identify and claim her body from the morgue.
She froze then, her mind more chaotic than before.
The next thought that leapt into her mind was her confrontation with the CEO of Robotics, Inc. It didn’t take a great leap from there to reach the conclusion that the bastards had counted on the house being theirs.
At the sound of the water being shut off, Clair glanced quickly around for something to use as a weapon. Retreat didn’t occur to her until she saw there was nothing remotely weapon-like that she could see, but by then she’d heard the shower door open and the splat of bare, wet feet across the tiles of the bathroom. Shoving her hand into the pocket of her jacket as she heard the steps pause on the other side of the door, she pointed her index finger at the intruder, hoping against hope that it looked enough like the barrel of a pistol to at least give him pause.
The door opened. She hadn’t expected it to be anyone she knew so it was no great surprise to come face to face—well, actually chest—with a man she’d never seen in her life. Beyond that nothing was as she’d expected. He was naked, or the next thing to it, wearing nothing but a thin towel—two corners fisted in one hand at his waist—wrapped around his narrow hips that didn’t even make a complete connection, displaying a long, muscular, hairy thigh. His torso was proportionally as long as the legs, his chest broad, sculpted with muscles and sprinkled with a dusting of dark hair that was slicked to his skin with water. Long black hair clung close to his head and around his broad shoulders. The face above didn’t even penetrate her perceptions beyond a vague impression of being hard and angular, the two almost straight black brows above his eyes pulled into a scowl.
The overall impression of a wall of flesh—he was a very large man—rocked her back on her heels, mentally speaking, and completed her mind’s descent into chaos that fear had started. “Put your hands up!” Clair demanded when she finally found her voice.
Something flickered in his deep blue eyes. A faint smile tipped one corner of his hard mouth up. Slowly, he released his hold on the towel and lifted his arms.
The moment he did, his towel hit the floor.