“Because I’m not the only body shifter in Central. Sal’s one, and so is whoever shares his scent.”
The autocook pinged softly. I opened the unit and took out the plate. The omelet not only looked fresh, but smelled divine. I ferreted around until I found a knife and fork, then moved across to the small table. All the while, Jonas watched me.
Eventually, he said, “Do you believe Sal is involved with this other person?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they smell the same.” I ate some of the omelet and then met his gaze. “I did a reading on him last night.”
His eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”
I hesitated. “Nuri’s a seeker herself, so you’re obviously aware what we can and can’t do.”
He simply nodded, his arms crossed and expression giving little away.
“Well, some of us are capable of going deeper than merely reading surface thoughts and emotions. We can delve into past memories and gain insight on all that that person might have seen and done.” I hesitated. “But it can only be done during sex.”
“In that case, remind me never to have sex with you.”
My smile was as cold as his voice. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that, ranger.”
“No.”
And yet, even as he said it, desire rose between us, tainting the air with its rich, heady aroma. I dropped my gaze from his and steadfastly ate the omelet—even as my skin prickled with awareness and heat flushed my body.
“So what did you discover during this invasion?”
“It’s not an invasion. It’s nothing as crude as that,” I snapped, then took a deep breath and added, a little more calmly, “He got caught in some sort of weird darkness with three others, and it merged their DNA. I’m pretty sure they can communicate telepathically. Sal got a call this morning, and I think it was one of the people I saw in his mind.”
“If they can communicate telepathically, then they wouldn’t need to use standard coms.”
“True.” I bit my lip for a moment. “Perhaps it’s not a true form of telepathy, but rather something like the seeker skill, in that they share impressions rather than thought.”
“It’s possible.” There was an odd edge to his voice that had me frowning. But before I could say anything, he added, “Can you describe the three he was caught with?”
I shook my head. “They were little more than silhouettes. All I can tell you is that there was one man, one woman, and someone else. Someone that felt unnatural, maybe even alien.”
“So the woman who followed you here is very possibly one of those three?”
“Possibly.” Or it could be one of Central’s rangers, alerted to my presence thanks to the other lot of shifters who’d been at Nuri’s when I’d first arrived there. Anything was possible at this point.
“What about the darkness itself?” he asked.
That edge was deeper. “It was unnatural and also very alien. Why?”
“Because what you’re describing is probably a rift.” He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. “This is not good news.”
I frowned as I rose and walked across to the autocook, depositing my plate in the slot before ordering two coffees. “But if he was caught in the rift, he’d be dead. People don’t survive them.”
“People do,” he snapped back. “It’s rare, but it happens. But if he was caught in a rift with those others, then they now all share not only a form of collective consciousness, but possibly many of the abilities they had individually.”
Because rifts chewed up the DNA of whatever they encountered and spat it out in a completely different form. But if that was the case, why did Sal look the same? He shouldn’t, given the terrible results I’d seen of plants and animals caught in rifts. Or was it simply a matter of his using his shifter skills to maintain a form he was more comfortable with?
“That would explain how Sal and the person in the restaurant could share the same scent,” I said eventually.
He nodded. “The other three will also hold the same scent.”
“Other two,” I corrected. “The fourth person caught in that rift didn’t actually survive.”
“At least that means there’s one less for us to track down.” His voice was grim. “What else did you catch?”
“Nothing during sex.”
He raised an eyebrow again. “And afterward?”
“Again, nothing. But for no reason at all he brought up the Broken Mountains and asked if I’d been there recently.”
“Interesting.”
“More so given he also mentioned that he’d heard they were now infested by vampires.”
The autocook pinged and two steaming mugs of coffee appeared. I picked them both up and walked across to Jonas, handing him one but making sure our fingers didn’t brush.
He raised an eyebrow at my actions, and amusement briefly teased his lips. It made me wish he’d smile more often. Unfortunately, it fled as swiftly as it had appeared.
“There are no vampires in the Broken Mountains. I have kin up there; they would have mentioned it.”
“But there is an old military base, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” He took a sip of coffee, his expression thoughtful. “You think he was deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you?”
“I think it’s more than possible. If Sal, his two unknown friends, and the vampires are somehow all connected to whatever is going on, then they’ll be aware that someone raided that base last night.”
And really, why else would he suddenly mention the Broken Mountains if he wasn’t involved in some way? Coincidences happened, but there were just a few too many occurring now for it to sit comfortably.
“Then perhaps our task today should be to go investigate that old base.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know—”
“It’s daylight,” he cut in. “Even if the place is infested with vamps, they should be out. And all we really need to do is confirm whether that base is the one you stumbled into.”
“And what about my follower?”
He smiled, but this time, there was nothing nice about it. “Let me worry about your follower.”
I hesitated again. “How will we get up there?”
“I’ll grab an all-terrain vehicle and meet you at the rear of the museum in two hours.”
I nodded. That would give me time to go home, change, and grab some weapons. I wasn’t about to go anywhere near an old military base that might or might not be infested with vamps without being fully kitted up.
“How will I know when it’s safe to leave?”
“You’re not leaving by the front door. Another reason we use this place is because it has an escape hatch. If you pull the bed away from the wall you’ll uncover a small trapdoor; it leads to a set of stairs that’ll take you to the roof. Jump across to the next building, then shimmy down the drainpipe. It takes my weight, so it won’t be a problem. The back of that building has fallen into disrepair—go through it, then move back onto Twelfth.”
“What about the occupants of other buildings? What if I’m spotted?”
“This is Twelfth Street,” he said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. “People don’t care what you’re doing, as long as it’s not affecting them.”
“Fair enough.” I downed my coffee in several gulps and just about burned my mouth. “I’ll head off now, then—”
He caught my arm, his grip firm and oh so warm. Desire rippled through my body and spun through the air, entwining with his, creating a storm that threatened to overwhelm self-control—his as much as mine, if the darkening of his eyes was anything to go by. I licked my lips, torn between the need to keep safe and the desire to press closer, to breathe deep the scent of him, to let it flush through my body and claim me, as I suddenly wished he would claim me.
What in Rhea was going on? I’d never felt an attraction this fierce before. I might be designed to attract and be attracted to shifters, but this was something that had never happened
.
“Not yet. Leave it for ten minutes.”
His voice was little more than a husky growl, and even more alluring than the desire that spun around us. I wanted to lean forward, to taste the lips that were so close, but such an action could only end badly. He might want me, but he didn’t trust me and he certainly didn’t like me. I wasn’t that desperate for intimacy that I’d take such a risk with such a man.
“Fine.” I pulled my arm free from his grip and stepped away from him. Cool air rushed between us, chilling the smattering of sweat that beaded my skin. This man was dangerous in more ways than I’d ever imagined.
I walked across to the autocook and ordered a second cup of coffee. I didn’t offer him one. I didn’t dare risk getting that close again.
When I finally turned to look at him, he was just finishing his drink. His gaze was enigmatic when it met mine, the desire long gone, even if its scent still stung the air. “Two hours. Make sure you’re there.”
“I will be.”
He left, and a huge sense of relief swept me—though why it felt like I’d dodged a bullet when every bit of me still thrummed with need I have no idea.
The sooner I found those kids, the sooner I could get away from him and Nuri, the better, I thought resolutely.
And ignored that annoying inner voice that snorted in disbelief.
I took a sip of coffee, then placed it on top of the autocook and walked across to the bed. If the various bits of welding evident on the metal framework were any indication, the bed had been repaired more than a few times. It made me wonder just what went on in this room. Sex, however strenuous, usually wasn’t enough to break such a sturdy-looking bed, even if many shifters tended to be vigorous lovers.
Would Jonas be? Even as that thought entered my mind, I thrust it away impatiently and lifted the end of the bed. Dragging it away from the wall revealed a thick rope tied to one of the bed’s metal struts and the trapdoor. It was close to the floor and looked barely wide enough to squeeze my shoulders into, let alone Jonas’s. Still, he’d obviously used this exit; if he could fit, so could I.
Especially given I could shadow if there was no source of light.
But the rooftop and the street were nothing but light, and there was no way I was going to be seen in this form. I didn’t care how much he believed no one in the area would care; I’d learned the hard way that people would and could do the unexpected.
I finished my coffee, then took a deep, calming breath and called to the shifting magic. I imagined dark hair and eyes, and a thin, unpleasant face. I also changed my scent, giving it sour overtones. Jonas might have said he’d deal with whoever was following me, but if for some reason he didn’t, then the caution would pay off. Especially if it was one of Sal’s companions.
With that done, I squatted down beside the trapdoor. There were two small holes on either side of the panel; I hooked my fingers into them and pulled it free. The space beyond was tight and dark, with barely enough room to maneuver. I lay on my belly and peeked in; a ladder led upward into a deeper darkness, and it didn’t exactly look in the greatest state of repair.
Still, it wasn’t like I had another choice. I squeezed into the small space, tucked my knees up, then grabbed the rope and pulled the bed back against the wall. Once the trapdoor was secured, I called to the night and the shadows, and became one with them. I flowed up the ladder, my particles brushing against its cool metal surface. Within a few minutes, slivers of light began to flicker through the darkness above me. I gained flesh once more, but the ladder wobbled alarmingly under my sudden weight, forcing me to hang on grimly for several seconds.
Once I was certain it wasn’t about to break, I slowly climbed up the rest of the way. As the shadows grew dimmer and the light stronger, a small, circular hatch became visible. I hooked an arm around a rung, then reached up and carefully turned the wheel. There was a slight groan—the sound of metal grating against metal—then it spun and the hatch popped. I blinked against the influx of bright light and cautiously peered out. The rooftop was a sea of technology—there wasn’t just an odd assortment of antennas and satellite dishes, but a battery of solar units, some of them almost as old as the ones on the tower at the museum—and might, in fact, provide spare part possibilities if I ever got desperate enough.
I climbed out of the hatch, ensured it was locked, and then rose and scooted across to the building’s edge. The gap to the next building was only six feet and really didn’t take much effort. I found the drainpipe easily enough, and a few seconds later was back on the street.
But I didn’t take the route Jonas had pointed out. I simply walked out onto Twelfth Street. Even if my follower was still out there, she would see and smell someone other than me.
It didn’t take long to get back to my bunker, and I was almost immediately surrounded by ghosts, who weren’t just happy to see me, but anxious to pass on their news.
For the third time in as many days, someone had tried to get into our bunker.
I swore softly and tried to concentrate as they excitedly relayed all the details—all of them doing so at the same time. Our would-be intruder was a gray-skinned man who wore military pants—not déchet pants, but something similar, if the images the little ghosts pressed into my mind were anything to go by. It wasn’t Sal—aside from the fact he was with me all last night, this man had an unusual scar running down his left cheek. It reminded me somewhat of the slashes rangers used to signify their rank and unit, but the scars on this man were thicker, uglier, and certainly not a result of a knife or claw—or not the claw of any creature in this world, anyway.
At least whoever it was didn’t get in, but next time it might be another matter entirely. I praised the little ones for their vigilance, even as I wondered what the hell I could do to further protect this place. I had no doubt whoever it was would try some form of code breaker next—it was, after all, a logical step. It might take some time to crack open this grate, but they would eventually get through.
And while this tunnel was now a part of the bunker’s secure system, there were no laser curtains within it to drop down if a break-through occurred, and no automated weaponry, either. It was alarmed, and that was about it.
And I couldn’t ask the little ones to keep on defending it, simply because I had no idea what other technology or magic these people had access to. If they could make false rifts, then they might just have a way of dealing with ghosts, too.
I bit my lip as I punched in the code, then stepped into the tunnel. I hesitated as the grate closed, my gaze settling on the control box. I could fuse it; that would certainly stop them—at least until they got a laser torch and simply cut the bars open. Hell, that might even be their next option—it would certainly be quicker than using a code breaker.
But fusing the control box would also stop me exiting the bunker during daylight hours, as I couldn’t use the riskier museum exit. Right now, the last thing I wanted was to trap myself.
I moved on. Maybe there was something in the weaponry store on the sixth floor I could use. While I was familiar with most of the items stashed within the vast room, there were boxes in the rear I hadn’t opened for decades.
The ghosts trailed ahead of me, dancing along to the beat of my footsteps, their little forms faint wisps of fog in the tunnel’s darkness. But it was a beat that made me feel oddly lonely—though how I could ever feel that way in a place filled to the brim with people I had no idea. I guessed it was just the fact they weren’t living people.
It was, I thought somewhat bleakly, going to be a tough few weeks getting used to it just being me and my ghosts again. I might fear others discovering what I was, but I really couldn’t deny that—despite everything—it had been nice to have flesh-and-blood company for more than a few hours at a time.
We reached the sixth floor, and I made my way across to the security door that divided the corridor section from the bunk rooms, the stores, the main medical facilities, and what had been the training grounds
for prepubescent déchet.
“Name, rank,” Hank’s gruff metallic voice said.
“Tiger C5, déchet, lure rank.” I pressed my thumb against the blood-work slot and waited until the system geared up and took the required sample. It took even longer than usual for the door to open, which wasn’t a good sign when it came to the generators. When it finally did open, I immediately headed toward the main generator room. The backup generator was making an alarming amount of noise and was shaking so badly I’d swear it was attempting to shear free from the bolts holding it down. I checked it and couldn’t see anything obviously wrong, but hit the maintenance switch, anyway. It would take the generator offline for an hour, but that wasn’t much of a risk given I had no intention of leaving to meet Jonas until the last possible minute.
With that done, I made my way to the weapons store, and searched through old boxes stacked at the rear of the room. A few of these were even older than me, with the date stamped on some indicating they’d originated from the years before the war. I had no idea if the equipment within those boxes would even be usable this far down the track, but old guns weren’t what I was looking for, anyway.
I began moving the various crates and dust bloomed, catching in my throat and making me cough. The ghosts laughed and dashed through the clouds, their little forms briefly gaining substance before the particles fell away. Eventually, I found something I could use: movement-activated electro-net devices. They’d been designed to capture both shifters and vampires, and while they wouldn’t kill either, they’d certainly incapacitate them for several hours, long enough for the ghosts to deposit them in the holding cells, out of harm’s way until I could get back and take care of them.
I went back to the South Siding exit and set them up, ensuring the deactivate switches were well hidden. With the tunnel as protected as I could possibly make it, I headed to the hydro pods to clean up. Once I’d changed back to the orange-haired, sweeter-smelling form that matched the RFID information in my wrist, I dressed in fresh clothes, then headed for the weapons store to kit up. When I came to the box of flares, I hesitated. My supply of them was running low, but it would be stupid not to have some with me if the bunker in the Broken Mountains was infested with vamps. I grabbed a backpack and threw a couple in, then headed back to the south tunnel.