City of Light

  “Meaning what?” Jonas asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I need more time to study that barrier.”

  “And the false rift in Deseo?” I said. “What’s happening with that?”

  “Ela—the other shifter your little ghost saw in the bar—has just acquired a job there. She’ll keep an eye on who goes into—or comes out of—that basement.”

  “She can hardly be there twenty-four/seven. And Jonas said electronic surveillance is impractical.”

  “Which it is,” Nuri agreed. “And that is why Ela is not the only one going in.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “How many people do you have working for you?”

  “With me, not for me.” Amusement touched her lips. “The core group is four, but we have half a dozen shifters we trust who we can call on in times of need.”

  “Are those shifters the same ones you were having the disagreement with when I first arrived with Penny?” I paused. “How is she, by the way?”

  “No. And Penny . . . she’s okay.” Nuri hesitated. “We’re currently keeping her isolated, as I can’t break past the darkness that clouds her thoughts, and I do not trust it.”

  “There was something about her manner that disturbed me.” My gaze swept from Nuri to Jonas and back again. “But I figured it was the same shadow that I sometimes sense in both of you.”

  “Did you, now?” Nuri shared a brief glance with Jonas. “But you’re wrong. Whatever you sense in our auras, it is not the source of Penny’s current problems.”

  Which didn’t tell me a whole lot. “Then what do you think is?”

  She hesitated. “I’m not sure, but it has the same basic feel as that barrier in the crater.”

  “Meaning Penny is linked to the barrier somehow?” Even as I asked the question, a very bad feeling began to grow deep inside me. That barrier had ultimately led to a rift that had taken me to a laboratory guarded by vampires—and if the darkness of that barrier had infused Penny’s aura, what were the chances that whatever was happening to her also somehow linked her to the vampires?

  “Either that, or she’s linked to whomever created that barrier.” Nuri paused, and her power surged briefly, burning across my skin, tasting, testing. “What is it?”

  I swallowed my mouthful of stew and met her gaze. “Is it possible the darkness within that barrier also has the taint of vampire?”

  She frowned. “Vampires are not capable of magic.”

  “No, but they do share a collective consciousness.”

  “Yes, but I don’t see how that connects to the barrier and Penny.”

  “The false rift I went through today took me into some sort of old military bunker,” I said, “within which was a new and fully functional lab. It was protected by lights, but the vampires were protecting the lab itself.”

  “Which explains the mess you were in when you appeared back in Carleen,” Jonas murmured. “It’s a wonder you managed to get out if you appeared in the middle of a nest.”

  “It wasn’t a nest.” I met his somewhat skeptical gaze evenly. “And they were initially asleep.”

  “I’m still not seeing why you think Penny and the vampires might be linked,” Nuri said, with another of those warning looks to Jonas.

  I hesitated. “Last night, when the vampires attacked my bunker, they also raised the grate that protects it. Aside from the fact they didn’t need to, no one but myself and my ghosts know the code for that gate. No one but Penny, who saw me key it in.”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch,” Jonas commented. “For a start, the technology is so old it would probably take someone with an electronic lock pick all of three seconds to crack.”

  “Did you see a pick on the vampires? I didn’t.” Not that a pick would have been easy to see given the situation, but that was beside the point. “And, as I said, why would they want the grate open when they could shadow and flow through it?”

  “They wouldn’t,” Nuri said. “Unless, of course, they were checking the code for someone else.”

  I nodded. “Hence my asking whether that darkness contained any hint of vampire. It might be possible that we face not only a coalition of wraiths and someone in Central, but vampires as well.”

  “Not a possibility I wish to contemplate,” Nuri murmured.

  “We may not want to, but we can’t ignore the possibility, either.”

  Nuri leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “Any idea where this vamp-infested lab might be?”

  “No.” I tore off some more bread and scraped the remains of the stew out of my bowl. “But, as I said, it was an old military bunker, and there were several disused labs that reminded me an awful lot of the labs within my bunker—though I was under the impression the humans of Old Central had only the one déchet base near here.”

  “They did. The others were in Crow’s Point and in the Broken Mountains.” She pursed her lips. “There were several satellite military installations, of course. It’s possible we’re dealing with one of those.”

  “There were old uterine pods and neonatal medibeds in the disused labs,” I said. “Not something the regular military would need, I’d imagine.”

  “No.” Her gaze met mine. “Are you sure it wasn’t some part of your own bunker, a section you haven’t uncovered yet?”

  “I’m sure.” My reply was a little sharper than necessary. “Aside from the fact there didn’t appear to be any ghosts in this installation, my bunker isn’t infested with vampires.”

  “That you know of,” Jonas said. “It’s possible the inaccessible areas could be.”

  “No, they’re not, because the ghosts don’t have my restrictions, and they’d tell me if the vampires were there.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Though there was little in the way of expression on his face, in the bright depths of his eyes curiosity, distrust, and desire all burned. It was a mix that was oddly compelling. “Yet you yourself said not all the ghosts talk to you.”

  “The adults don’t.” He was still baiting me, still trying to trip me up, even if the question was a logical one. “But the children have been there for over one hundred years, and they know that place inside out. They’d tell me if vampires had suddenly become a feature.”

  “Which means it must be one of the other déchet facilities.” Nuri tapped the table lightly, the sound echoing. “Although it seems odd that if the people behind this are based in Central, they would have their lab facilities so far away.”

  “But it’s not that far away. Not when they’re using the false rifts to transport there and back.”

  “Yes, but the rifts are hardly practical if they cause so much damage to the user.” Jonas crossed his legs under the table, but his calf brushed mine in the process and sent warmth spiraling through the rest of me.

  This attraction, I thought, as I edged my legs away from his, was getting ridiculous.

  “Just because the false rifts harm me doesn’t mean they similarly affect those who created them. If they have the skill to make them, then they also have the skill to program their DNA into them. I doubt they would suffer the same sort of difficulties I did when using it.”

  “Penny suffered much the same type of wounds,” he said.

  “Yes, but why would they bother programming the DNA of the children into it? The number of them alone would make it too hard.”

  “It would also take too much time and energy, for little gain,” Nuri agreed, voice heavy. “From what I could glean from Penny, they’re using these children as test subjects and don’t exactly care whether they live or die.”

  “And yet,” I said, “they’re not truly mistreated. Penny is undernourished, but she isn’t ill.”

  “That might only be due to the authorities finally seeing the pattern in the disappearances. Best to take care of the test subjects you have if getting new ones is increasingly more difficult.” Her sharp gaze came to mine, and again her power swept me, intense and oddly filled with expectation. “The question is, w
hat’s your next step?”

  I leaned back in my chair and contemplated, once again, the wisdom of trusting these people. Cat stirred and her emotions washed through me, urging me to trust, to help. To find the children and make them safe. And it was that, more than anything, that remained the controlling factor here. If not for the fact there were children involved—children who might yet be saved—I definitely would have walked.

  I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, then said, “That depends.”

  “On what?” Nuri asked evenly.

  “On how fast you can get me working ID for Central. The friend I’m meeting tonight said he might be able to arrange an interview with the recruitment officer at Winter Halo.” My gaze flicked to Jonas as I said it, though I’m not entirely sure why. It wasn’t like he was going to show any reaction given we were strangers and he refused to even acknowledge the attraction between us. “He’ll tell me tonight if he was successful or not.”

  “ID is not a problem. In fact, we could do it now. Branna, get the scanner.” As Branna made a noise not unlike a growl before he walked away, Nuri added, “Who is this friend of yours?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  She half shrugged. “I’m curious, because the timing seems . . . fortunate.”

  “Fortunate how?”

  “When you first came here”—she gestured at the room with one hand—“you reminded me somewhat of a feral cat—fierce, skittish, and distrustful of both Chaos and us. You had the air of someone who kept very much to herself, and who socialized little. With the living, anyway.”

  As summations went, she’d pretty much nailed it. But then, she was a seeker, and no matter how much I’d tried to control my emotional output, she would nevertheless have caught the odd unguarded moment. Especially given she was also a witch of some power.

  “And now?”

  “The distrust remains, but there is more life in you. More . . . awareness and warmth, in a sense. It is as if a long-ignored part of you has come to life.”

  Another good summation. Part of me had come to life, and the more time I spent with Sal, the harder it was going to become to get that part of me under control once this all ended.

  The thought made me frown. Sal lived in Central—had for some time—so why did it have to end? I really didn’t know. Intuition might be part and parcel of being a seeker, but weaving together emotions and images and coming up with judgments was something so ingrained it became a subconscious activity rather than a conscious one. And sometimes, those judgments remained at a subconscious level.

  So what had I picked up on Sal that made me think my association with him would not be long-term? Was it the change I sensed in him or merely caution?

  I didn’t know, and that was worrying.

  “I don’t see how all that relates back to my meeting.”

  “I’m not sure myself,” she admitted. “It’s just a feeling. You, us, the missing children, the sudden appearance of an old friend in your life. I think they’re all linked, even if I can’t yet see or find the connecting threads.”

  “I never said his appearance was sudden.”

  She smiled. “There are some things in this world you don’t have to say. So, what is his full name? I think we should have him checked out, if for no other reason than to ensure he is the man you remember.”

  I hesitated, but as much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was right. Meeting Sal might be nothing more than a coincidence, but when combined with that odd itch that Sal and I were not destined to be long-term, then yes, I needed to be careful.

  “It’s Sal Casimir. He runs the Hedone brothel on First.”

  Jonas’s eyebrows rose. “You do have some high-flying friends. Especially for someone who generally lives like a hermit.”

  “Preferring the company of my ghosts is more a matter of caution rather than reclusion. And with welcomes like the one you gave me, can you blame me?” Though I tried to keep my voice mild, a touch of anger crept through regardless. Maybe Jonas’s attitude was catching. “And it certainly doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the occasional dalliance. Sal’s appearance was certainly fortunate in more ways than one.”

  Amusement fleetingly touched his lips, and it transformed his weatherworn but ruggedly handsome features, lending him a warmth and vibrancy that was almost breathtaking. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared, but the memory of it lingered deep inside.

  Branna returned, thumped some sort of scanner onto the table, then stomped off.

  “Pleasant sort of chap, isn’t he?” I murmured, not sure whether to be amused or concerned about his continuing suspicion. It was deeper—angrier—than the disbelief I sensed in Jonas, and far more dangerous. And yet he seemed very much leashed. Nuri might have said she worked with these men, but when it came to Branna, she was at the controlling end of his chain.

  “It is not in his nature to trust. It never has been.” Jonas reached for the scanner and pressed a small button. The scanner came to life, blue light gleaming softly from the device’s small screen. “It was a year before he began to speak to me with any degree of civility.”

  “A year? I’m surprised you put up with that sort of attitude for more than even a few days.”

  He smiled, but it was filled more with sadness and memories than warmth or humor. “That’s not something any of us really had any control over.”

  I frowned. “Meaning you were forced into each other’s company? How?”

  “That,” Nuri said heavily, “is a story for another day. “We’ve already set up an ID for you. All we have to do is scan in your image and physical attributes, and it will be good to go.”

  I frowned. “What name did you give me?”

  Amusement teased her lips. “Ti Zindela.”

  “Interesting choice,” I murmured. Especially given “zindela” meant “man’s defender.”

  “I thought it was appropriate,” she said, voice mild.

  Leaving me wondering yet again just how much her seeker skills had picked up on me. Obviously not too much, otherwise I doubted they’d be sitting near me so calmly.

  Jonas rose, the scanner in one hand. “Let’s get this done, then you can head off for your meeting with the lover. You want to stand over near the wall?”

  I rose and walked over there. Jonas followed me, a presence that washed heat across my spine despite the fact he wasn’t close.

  “What address did you give me?” I asked as I turned around. “Here?”

  Nuri shook her head. “You’re not likely to get a job anywhere in Central if you list Chaos as your address. They tend to ignore us at the best of times.”

  I frowned. “Then what did you put?”

  “Smile,” Jonas said. “Unless, of course, you want a frown to be your ID comparison picture.”

  I flashed a brief smile. “Better,” Jonas said, and hit a button. Blue light scanned me, running my length several times before beeping.

  I glanced at Nuri, eyebrow raised.

  “There’s an inn called Old Stan’s on Twelfth run by friends of mine. We’ve used them for cover purposes before. They’ll run interference on any queries you might get, or pass them on to us.”

  “Okay,” Jonas said. “It’s done. Give me your right wrist.”

  I held it out. He wrapped his fingers around my hand, his grip warm and strong as he pressed the unit against the underside of my wrist. The machine emitted another beep, then there was a short, sharp sting as the RFID chip was inserted under my skin.

  “You’re now officially one of them,” Jonas said, his grip lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary.

  “Great,” I muttered, glancing down at my wrist. The skin was slightly red where the chip had been inserted, but other than that, there was little sign of its presence.

  “You’ll need to learn these points off by heart.” Nuri slid a piece of paper across the table toward me. “It’s your birth date, where you were born, et cetera. They will ask you, even if they can get the info f
rom the RFID.”

  Jonas stood to one side. I brushed past him, my skin tingling at the brief but luscious contact, and picked up the piece of paper. “Newport?” I glanced at Nuri, eyebrow raised. “It’s a back-of-nowhere town—why choose that as my birthplace?”

  “Because fifteen years ago a virus voided the town’s RFID system, rendering all birth and death records up to that point irretrievable.”

  “How fortunate.” My voice was dry.

  “It was, rather. And no, we didn’t do it. We do, however, make use of it. Central won’t check your records because they can’t.”

  “Surely they’d have to be aware that such destruction would be open to abuse by . . .” I hesitated, searching for the right word, not wanting to give offense.

  “Less-than-savory types?” Nuri prompted, with a smile. “And yes, they are. Which is why we’ve also given you a work history that can be checked.”

  I frowned. “Your organization is sounding bigger and bigger.”

  “We’re mercenaries,” Jonas commented, moving back around to his side of the table. “And there’s a large network of us who work on a quid pro quo basis. We back their histories, they back ours, as necessary.”

  “And,” Nuri added, “the relevant people have already been informed of your new ID.”

  Huh. These people didn’t muck around any. I folded the piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket. “There’s one other thing I need.”

  “That being?” Nuri asked.

  “I want to talk to some of the women who worked the night security but quit.”

  “We already have,” Jonas said. “They couldn’t tell us much.”

  “Maybe they couldn’t tell you anything,” I said, “but maybe they’d talk to me, as another applicant.”

  “I’ll see what we can arrange,” Nuri said. “But right now, you’d better leave if you want to get into Central before they close the gates for the evening.”

  As I picked up my weapons bag, my gaze drifted to Jonas. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You will.” There was so little inflection in his voice I wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise.