I hesitated, then, with a nod to Nuri, turned and left. Cat and Bear shot ahead, excited to be on the move again. We made our way down through the various levels, the air thick with scents and sounds, filled with oncoming shadows and the pressing weight of everything above us. My skin crawled and my stomach twisted, and it was all I could do to maintain my pace, to not run like hell out of the too-close confines of the place.
A feeling I oddly didn’t get when I was at Nuri’s.
The late-afternoon air was cool and sweet, and I sucked it in, cleansing my lungs of all that was Chaos. Then I pulled out the piece of paper, quickly memorizing it before tearing it into tiny pieces and releasing it on the breeze. Bear chased several of the pieces, his laughter running across my senses and making me smile.
We followed the old river’s course and, in very little time, reached the South Siding exit—where a rush of excited, worried little ghosts met us.
While we’d been away, someone had tried yet again to get into our home.
Chapter 9
It took me a good ten minutes to calm them down enough to get any sort of clear imagery. What had tried to get into our home was gray-skinned, flat-faced, with large eyes and little in the way of other features. A wraith. A female wraith.
In the middle of the day.
Either Nuri was right, and wraiths had gained the ability to move around in daylight, or something else was going on.
But what? Why would a wraith—or anyone else for that matter—want to get into our bunker? As far as anyone else knew, aside from the museum section, the place was filled with concrete.
Only Nuri, her crew, and Penny knew otherwise.
And if Penny was connected to either the wraiths or the vampires—or to whoever or whatever the force was behind the vampires—then why come here today? They’d have to know she wasn’t here, but rather in Chaos . . .
No, I realized suddenly, they wouldn’t. Nuri had mentioned she was keeping Penny isolated. Maybe she didn’t mean physically as much as mentally. And that meant that while the wraiths hadn’t succeeded getting in today, they might well in the future. It might have been only one hundred years since the end of the war, but technology developments had far outstripped anything I had here in the bunker. While in some ways that might be a blessing, it could also be a curse. I had no real idea how easy it would be for someone possessing the right code-breaking equipment to get past my current system.
Which meant I’d have to risk firing up another generator for daytime use, and installing full security on the South Siding exit, at least until we’d sorted out what was going on.
I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, then punched in the security code and headed into our bunker. Dusk hadn’t yet fallen, so the lights weren’t on yet. Not that it really mattered, as I didn’t need them. After all my years of living in this place, I could have walked around it blindfolded. I headed for the main generator panel room and coded in new exceptions, bringing the South Siding exit and its corridor back into the security net. While the tunnel had no weaponry of any sort, bringing it back into the system meant that if someone broke in, we’d at least have time to react.
A few minutes later, with a rattle and a cough, the spare generator kicked into gear. I kept my fingers crossed it held up—and that we sorted out what was going on sooner rather than later.
With that done, I headed for the hydro pods and quickly cleansed myself. Once I’d re-dressed, I ordered Cat and Bear to keep an eye on things and headed back out.
The last caterpillar pod for the evening pulled into the station just as I reached it. People piled out and their sharp scents—human, shifter, sweat, and perhaps a touch of fear at the oncoming of night—filled the air. Other than the sound of their hurried steps, there was little other noise. There were no conversations, not even whispers. Everyone seemed intent on moving forward as swiftly and as economically as possible.
I kept to the middle of the crowd until we were through the gatehouse, then eased to one side and made my way into First Street. Five minutes later I was entering Hedone.
The receptionist—another blonde—looked up as I entered and gave me a wide smile. “Welcome to Hedone,” she said, voice warm and pleasant. “How may we help you this fine evening?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Casimir. He’s expecting me.”
“Of course. And your name is?”
“Ti Zindela.”
“Please, take a seat while I give Mr. Casimir a call.”
“Thanks.” I moved across to one of the plush white leather armchairs and idly picked up one of the catalogues. The screen instantly came to life and began scrolling through a selection of athletic men, making me wonder if gender preference had been one of the details inputted into the RFID.
“Ms. Zindela?” When I glanced at the receptionist, she added, “Mr. Casimir will be down in twenty minutes. He apologizes for the delay, but has a business call he has to finalize first.”
“Thanks.”
I spent the first ten minutes scrolling through the catalogue, amusing myself by picking various men and trying to guess their fees. I didn’t get any right. To say the prices here were exorbitant was putting it mildly.
After that, I switched to reading the history of Hedone, noting with interest that while Sal had registered the business five years ago, it made no mention of his previous experience in the industry. No mention that Hedone was merely the latest purchase in a long line of brothels. No mention of the fact that he’d spent years gradually moving his business through the various districts, until Hedone became a reality.
But maybe that history wasn’t a plus. Maybe here on First Street, you just didn’t admit to a past that involved anything other than being bred and born in this area. As people kept noting, I didn’t know much about Central, so it could have been a real possibility.
Sal strode into the waiting area just as I was placing the catalogue back on the table.
“Find anything you like?” he said, smile wide and infectious.
“One or two.” I rose. “The prices are little out of my range, however.”
“Not surprising, given the prices here are out of the range of most of Central’s occupants. Such exclusivity is very sought after by those who can afford us, however.” He caught my hand and tugged me into his embrace. “You smell and look very pretty tonight.”
He smelled like cold, dark silk, but there was something else, something I’d noted—and dismissed—yesterday. That odd note of corruption was much stronger today, and it crawled unpleasantly across the back of my senses.
Uneasy, and not knowing why, I raised an eyebrow and said, “Suggesting I smelled less than pleasant yesterday?”
He laughed softly, then lowered his lips to mine, the kiss firm and demanding but surprisingly brief. “We have a six thirty appointment with Nadel Keller.”
“And he is?”
“The recruitment officer at Winter Halo. As promised, I contacted him today to see if he was still looking for security personnel. He is.”
“And he’s interviewing at night? Isn’t that a little odd?”
“He’s doing it as a favor to me.” Sal stepped back and studied me. “I think he’ll like what he sees.”
“I thought you said he didn’t sleep with employees.”
“He doesn’t. But he does have to cater to his boss’s tastes, even if it goes against his own.”
Which didn’t exactly sound like Keller was above sexual harassment; he just wasn’t attracted to the personnel he was paid to employ. “So you know him fairly well?”
“He’s one of our better customers.” He half turned and offered me his arm. “Shall we go?”
No, I wanted to say, definitely not. And yet I had no idea why I was so reluctant. Intuition was crawling, but it wasn’t telling me why. I forced a smile and linked my arm through his. “I’m gathering, then, that the dress is suitable.”
“Totally. But a simple gray tunic would never be considered inappropriate in thi
s district.”
A point that only made me wonder yet again just how much Nuri had sensed about me. Dusk had settled in by the time we stepped outside, the darkening skies streaked with fading ribbons of red and gold. Not that you could tell night was approaching, because here in the streets of Central, it was as bright as day.
“How do you stand it?” I said as Sal guided me to the left.
He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Stand what?”
I waved my free hand toward the UVs perched atop the nearest building. “Twenty-four hours of daylight. Don’t you ever feel the need for darkness?”
After all, it ran in our blood, even if it didn’t control or restrict us like it did the vampires.
He shrugged. “After living in Central for so many years, I’m probably more comfortable in the light than I am in the darkness.”
Something within me very much doubted that. “How long have you been here?”
“Seventy years, give or take.”
And we’d never met in all that time? Central was a large city, but if he’d spent most of those years working his way up from the twelfth district, I should have at least scented him before now. “How did you get around Central’s insistence that all its citizens have RFIDs?”
His gaze met mine, and there was something in them that chilled me to the core. As a déchet assassin, killing wasn’t just his job but part of his nature, and it was something I’d accepted without question. But the coldness I’d just glimpsed—it wasn’t the dispassion of a killer, it was something else altogether. Something darker. Meaner.
“When you can shape your form into any desired image,” he said, “acquiring RFIDs is not a problem.”
“Yeah, but getting rid of the body is.”
“Not really. It’s just a matter of choosing the right time and location for the kill. The vampires will take care of the rest.” A somewhat disbelieving smile teased his lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve never stolen another’s identity?”
“I can honestly say I haven’t.”
“Then how the hell have you gotten by? Most of the major population centers have insisted on RFIDs since the war.”
“I didn’t live in major cities.” I shrugged. “And did I mention I’m a very good thief?”
We turned left, onto a side street, and moved toward Second. “But you do have an RFID now, haven’t you?”
“I said I did.” I glanced around as we crossed Second Street and moved toward Third. “Where are we going? I thought we were eating in first?”
“No. Nadel could only spare half an hour, so we’re meeting him at a place on Sixth, which isn’t far from where Winter Halo is situated.”
“Is he likely to ask me many questions about the company? Because I don’t know a whole lot about it.”
“Not really. They’ll test for fitness and aptitude if he considers you an appropriate candidate, but you’re there to guard the place, nothing more.”
“So what sort of research do they do there that needs such a specific type of guard?”
He shrugged. “As I said, the owner appears to have a fetish for a certain look, but I can’t really tell you more than that.”
Won’t, not can’t, instinct whispered. The unease deep inside me was growing, but short of actually coming out and asking him why he was lying, the only way I was going to get any sort of truth was by unleashing my full seeker skills on him. And I could really only do that while we were having sex. He knew well enough what I was, and if he was holding secrets he had no desire for me to learn, he would be guarded against me. But he also had no idea how strong my seeker skills were during sex, because I’d never used them on him.
“Here we are.” He released my arm and moved his hand to my back as he guided me through a doorway and into a small foyer. It was bright and white, but there were splashes of red and gold among the white of the furniture, and a wall of rich brown wood to one side of the desk.
A petite woman with pale brown hair glanced up as we entered. “Welcome to Rubens,” she said, with a smile. “How may I help you?”
“We have a table booked under the name of Casimir,” Sal replied, his voice cool.
She checked, then said, “For three?”
“Yes.”
“This way, please.” She picked up three menus, then moved toward the wall of wood. It split apart, revealing a dining room that was not only intimate, but also surprisingly shadowed—or at least as shadowed as anything in Central seemed to get. Tables were well spaced, and the air rich with the scents of humans and shifters. Underneath all those ran the delicious notes of roasting meat. I might have eaten just over an hour ago, but it seemed my stomach was more than happy to consume more, if the somewhat noisy rumble was anything to go by.
The woman guiding us moved easily through the tables, heading toward the rear of the room. As we followed her, another scent teased my nostrils—a scent that was deep forests, dark satin, and, oddly corrupted. Sal’s scent. Except it was coming from up ahead, not behind.
I stopped so abruptly Sal ran into me, and would have sent me flying if he hadn’t immediately grabbed me.
“What’s wrong?” His grip on my arms was almost too firm.
“Nothing.” My gaze roamed the rear shadows, but the scent had faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, and it was now impossible to pin down where it might have come from. Who it might have come from. Maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe the air-conditioning had simply caught Sal’s scent and made it appear as if it had come from the front rather than from behind.
“Then why did you stop?”
I hesitated as instinct warned me not to say anything. “Sorry.” I glanced back at him and smiled. “I just caught a whiff of roast. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten anything that smells that good.”
“Your thieving skills are severely lacking if the mere smell of roasted meat can stop you so abruptly.”
Though there was amusement in his voice, there was an odd gleam in his eyes that spoke of . . . not distrust, not even disbelief. Just . . . uncertainty. As if he wanted to trust me, but wasn’t entirely sure he could.
That distrust was new. I’d had no sense of it yesterday, so what had happened between then and now? Surely it couldn’t have been anything I’d said, because I hadn’t really said all that much.
Had he been checking up on me? He wouldn’t have discovered anything if he had. No one in Central knew me, and, unless he had spies in Chaos, he wouldn’t have gathered much intelligence there, either.
“Have you ever tried to steal a haunch of beef?” I said, with an ease that belied the turmoil inside. “It’s not exactly something that fits under your shirt.”
“True.”
The woman paused and glanced back at us, an eyebrow raised in query. I forced my feet forward again and added, “And hunting isn’t exactly easy these days, not unless you go deep into the mountains.”
“Again, true.” He paused. “Have you ever been to the Broken Mountains?”
“No.” Not since the war, at any rate. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve heard the ruins of the old base have been infested by vampires.”
It was an interesting statement given my recent discovery of a vampire-infested base. But did that mean he was involved in whatever was going on? I wanted to believe not, wanted to believe his question was nothing more than coincidence.
But I just couldn’t.
“Why would vampires infest the abandoned ruins of an old military base?” I feigned confusion. “There’s nothing there for them to hunt.”
His gaze searched mine for several seconds, and then he shrugged. “Just curious. I thought you might have had some experience up there. You were stationed up there once, were you not?”
“I’d hardly call it ‘stationed,’ given I was only there for a few days while I was waiting for reassignment. But I doubt . . .” I paused as the scent teased my nostrils, sharper than before. I glanced left, my gaze roaming across the half shadows. There were s
everal tables nearby, all of them filled with couples, but again, the scent disappeared before I could pin it down.
“Doubt what?” Sal prompted.
“Doubt the shifters would allow such an infestation to survive if they have made it up there.” I drew in a deeper breath, but once more there was nothing.
But I wasn’t imagining it—and that was scary. Because while it was an undisputed truth that a person’s base scent didn’t change, it was simply impossible for two people to have the exact same scent. There were always differences, no matter how slight. Even identical twins smelled different—I knew that for a fact.
Yet Sal’s natural scent had changed, however subtly, and now there was someone here in this room who shared the same smell.
What the hell was going on? Was this really Sal, or had someone, somewhere, taken over his identity? But that didn’t make sense, either, if only because he knew me, and knew about our past. Body shifters might be able to attain someone else’s image, but they couldn’t take their memories. Even I couldn’t do that, and I’d been bred to not only take over the identity of female shifters to infiltrate the various camps but also—at least for a short period—their lives.
Besides, an identity snatch didn’t explain why there was someone else in this room who smelled exactly the same as Sal. Granted, some lures—like me—could change their scents to match their identities, but Sal wasn’t one of those. None of the grays had been given that skill, because it wasn’t really an ability assassins needed. If they did their job well enough, they were in and out before anyone could scent them, let alone see them.
So, did we have yet another lure survivor on our hands, or was something else—something weirder—going on?
I swept my gaze across the room again as the woman stopped at a table set for three. There was no one even remotely resembling Sal here, so that cut out the possibility of a clone. Though why Sal would want a clone given his Salamander blood enabled him to regenerate to the point of limb regrowth was beyond me.
Sal pulled out my chair, seating me, then moved around to the chair directly opposite. The woman handed me a menu, but my smile of thanks was somewhat absent. My neck prickled with awareness. I was being watched, and it was all I could do to resist the temptation to turn around and meet my watcher’s gaze.