Graft by Matt Hill

watched their faces. And by the time the first of them had vomited, the Manor Lord had spun one-eighty on the fulcrum of his sceptre and walked straight out again.
    Stunned, Y turned to the chef’s hatch – tried to see the woman who’d served her.
    It was like the server had been waiting. She was staring right back. Y couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she mouthed something to her. Then another chef pulled down the shutters, and the whole canteen erupted.
    In the midst of their minor riot, Y stayed completely still. The line was drawn. The link was clear. And she could’ve been wrong, hoped in some way she was, but the chef’s whispered word had looked a lot like “Tomorrow”.

5
    J ase and Jeffrey come round to the Cat Flap.
    There are niceties. There are contracts. And there’s a deal.
    Jeff sits in one corner while Jase and Mel go over the fine print.
    â€œRemember it’s a trial,” Mel says. “And only Jeff. Only for now.”
    â€œCourse,” Jase says. She thinks he’s trying not to smile. “Just see our Jeffrey as a little hired help. A way to attract a different clientele. He’s been with us about six months now, and already proved quite adept. And if he’s not busy, you know, at first, you could have him do your odd jobs. Give this place a clean for starters. He’s more than a decent physique, despite the average face. There’s strength in the head, too. Intelligence. And there’s always the doors to think about. He’d make a fine minder.”
    Mel looks at Jeff over in the corner.
    â€œIt’s all no obligation,” Jase tells her. “And if you’re not fully satisfied we’ll simply take him back.”
    â€œI can’t promise anything,” Mel says. “Money comes and goes.”
    â€œCourse.” Those teeth again. “Nature of the beast. But you’ll be surprised. Pleasantly surprised.”
    â€œAre there instructions?”
    Jase smirks. “No, no need for any of that. He’s like us, you understand. But imagine a hip replacement, yes? Now extend that idea. Imagine you could sprint a hundred miles without a single sore ligament…”
    Mel nods.
    â€œAll we ask is that you advertise. That you give him a good run. Outcalls, incalls, whatever makes sense.”
    â€œAnd what’s to stop him going berserk or something, hurting one of us? A place like this runs on trust, see. That’s the game.”
    â€œHe won’t do anything unless you want him to,” Jase says, and winks.
    Mel’s stomach flipflops. She tries to stop a thought blossoming: the violence of it; the root of Jase’s assumptions. He’s closing on her now. She knows he’s closing on her.
    â€œAnd how long we talking?” she asks. “For the trial?”
    â€œSay a month tops, to give you an idea of how we train them. He’s completely self-sufficient. And there’s absolutely nothing to stop you, you know, trying yourself. A test drive, let’s call it. You’ll find everything’s engineered for performance…”
    Mel holds up a hand. “Don’t push your luck. I’ll need a full breakdown of the costs, too, with a couple of days’ grace while he finds his feet. Girls’ll stress about someone new hanging about all day. It’s a big change, something like this… a change to their environment.”
    She’s annoying herself now, talking like this. It feels too much like sinking to his level. To bartering. She’d steadily got used to haggling for stuff on the markets – grains and dairy if the farm delivery hadn’t been seized en route – but she’s never felt entirely comfortable with it. Plus business now is never quite as simple as spitting in your hand and shaking on it.
    In the corner, Jeff takes off his glasses. He’s wearing what Mel can only guess are contact lenses. They turn his eyes into