He whisked lightly around me, seemingly amused that he could see what I could not. “How far around this hill does it go? Could you check?”
He was off in an instant. “Cat, do you want to check how high the barrier reaches? Just be careful not to get too close.”
Her energy kissed my right cheek, and then she was gone. I crossed my arms and stared at the foul darkness that now dominated Carleen’s main square. Why would they put it here? Why not simply leave it where it was and just erect another earth-fueled barrier around it?
I rubbed my forehead wearily. I didn’t understand these people, but then, that wasn’t really surprising given I had a hard time understanding anyone who could hurt children.
Which made my attraction to Jonas all the more troubling. It was his people who’d used the worst possible method to destroy everyone in my bunker. I should be so repelled by him that I couldn’t stand to be in his presence rather than the opposite being true. And while I’d like to blame my DNA programming, I suspected there was a whole lot more going on than just that. I’d spent a lot of time in shifter camps during the war, and no shifter had snared my interest this way. Nor had any of those I’d chosen to lie with afterward. So why was he different? Was it the darkness within him? Or was it simply a matter of wanting someone I knew I could never have?
Bear returned and the image of a green wall surrounding the entire top part of the hill flashed into my mind. A couple of seconds later, Cat joined us. The wall was apparently two trees high. Which maybe meant I could get over it, but not in daylight. It would have to be done at night, when I was able to shadow and move as easily as the vampires—and that was something I was loath to do when they were so very aware of our presence in the area.
Which meant there was nothing more I could do here. Not at the moment, anyway. But the day wasn’t a total waste—I now had proof Sal was involved, and that surely meant my next move had to be questioning him.
And once I’d questioned him . . . I closed my eyes against the slither of pain that ran through me.
Once I’d questioned him, I would have to kill him. I couldn’t release him, because he would then come after me. He and his partners were already far too uncertain about my part in the break-ins at their facilities.
Of course, given what they’d been doing here today, it was totally possible that he wouldn’t meet with me. But even as the thought crossed my mind, I brushed it away as nonsense. Sal was a gray—a cool, calm assassin. He wouldn’t flinch at killing me any more than he had the hundreds he’d killed during the war, and who knew how many after. He might regret the loss of our friendship, and he might briefly miss the sex, but his emotional center, like those of the déchet soldiers, had been chemically altered. Perhaps not to the same degree, but it had nevertheless been done.
He wouldn’t miss me as I would miss him.
But before I did anything, I had to get back to full strength. To have any hope of being able to question and kill Sal, I had to be at the top of my game physically and mentally.
I spun on my heel and headed back to our bunker. It took just over an hour to get there, by which time Central’s drawbridge was down and the rail yards buzzed with life. I switched direction and took the long way around, preferring to walk through the dappled light of the small park behind the museum to the crowded confines of the pod platforms.
I finally made it to the tunnel and headed for the main kitchens on level five. The machines were running low on anything resembling fresh food, so I settled on several protein packs, a somewhat less than appealing-looking orange, and a large black coffee. Once I’d consumed those, I returned to the bunkhouse and made myself comfortable on my bed. After asking the ghosts to keep watch, I closed my eyes and focused on nothing more than my breathing, on every intake of air as it washed through my nostrils and down into my lungs. Eventually, the calm healing state began to descend. It took a while, but the persistent, niggling chill that had settled deep into my bones began to ease, and the tiredness that had plagued me over the last day or so began to ebb away.
Eventually, I took a deep breath and pulled myself from the trancelike state. The bunk room was silent; none of the ghosts were near, not even Cat and Bear.
Frowning, I pushed to my feet and walked over to the exit, pressing my thumb against the scanner and waiting with some impatience for Hank to do his bit and open the doors.
The ghosts appeared as I walked into the corridor heading down to the next level. They swirled around me excitedly, everyone chattering at the same time, creating a whirlpool of sound and color and concern.
But not for me.
For the two people who were now standing at our exit grate.
“Guys, calm down.” I waited several seconds for them to do so, then added, “Who is at the grate?”
Images flashed into my mind. One was Nuri, the other was Branna. Both of them were bloody, but Branna looked in particularly bad shape.
I swore softly and ran down into the tunnel, switching off the electro-nets as I went.
“Tiger,” Nuri said, relief in her voice as I appeared. “You need to let us in. You need to help us.”
“Why?” I asked bluntly. “What can I do that you can’t get from Chaos or Central?”
“We can get many things in Chaos, but there’s no working mediscan beds, and Branna will die without one.”
My gaze went to him. There was a rough bandage around his waist, but it was dark and dripping with blood. His left arm had also been bandaged, and even from where I stood it was obvious it had been broken in several spots. And there was a truly vicious-looking wound peeling open on his forehead.
I returned my gaze to Nuri’s. “Central has mediscans, probably far better than the ones I have here.”
“Yes, but Branna, like the rest of us, is outcast.”
“I thought you said no one in Chaos was outcast.”
“Except for us, and those like us. Or, at least, those of us they know about.”
“Meaning what?”
She waved a hand. “That is not important right now. The only thing that matters is the fact that those in Central will let him die rather than treat him.”
I have to admit, I was more than a little willing to let that happen myself, especially given what he had already done to me, and what he no doubt would do if he ever found out what I was.
“Please, Tiger, this is important.”
I hesitated, then said, “Okay. But we keep him sedated even after he’s healed. The ghosts will not appreciate his presence and may well react.”
“Deal.”
Her fast response had me worrying. Was it really wise to let these two into our sanctuary? Was there even a choice now that they were here? They couldn’t remain outside without attracting the sort of attention I wanted to avoid, and there was something in her expression that suggested she wouldn’t leave even if I refused entry. I punched in the code and stepped back as the grate opened.
“Follow the ghosts,” I said, offering Nuri no help. She was a strong woman, and an earth witch besides. If she needed help bearing Branna’s weight, she could pull it from the earth. I had no intention of getting within arm’s reach of the man, even if he was bloody and momentarily broken.
I reset the nets and followed a safe distance behind the two. Nuri hauled Branna into the mediscan nearest the door, then stepped back and eyed the unit somewhat dubiously. “They really are ancient, aren’t they?”
“I did warn you.” The light screen shimmered to life as the bed’s thick foam enveloped Branna. A soft beeping filled the silence; his body might be broken, but there was nothing wrong with his biorhythms, aside from an accelerated pulse rate—no doubt due to his body’s natural healing abilities trying to cope with both his broken bones and the blood loss. I set the scanner into motion, then glanced across to Nuri. “So where’s the third musketeer?”
“Musketeer?” She raised an eyebrow. “I take it you mean Jonas.”
“Yes.” I glanced at the
screen as the scanner finished and began listing recommended actions. Despite outward appearances, no major organs had been damaged, and the only real danger he was in was that he was still losing blood too fast.
“I’m afraid he’s the other reason we’re here.”
“Really?” I pressed a couple of buttons; restraints wrapped around Branna’s ankles and wrists. While the scans suggested he was truly out of it, I wasn’t about to take chances. “Why? What has he done?”
“The fool has gone and gotten himself captured.”
My gaze shot to hers. “What?”
Her expression was grim. “Our infiltration of the bunker did not, as you might have guessed, go according to plan.”
“The ghosts?”
She shook her head. “They were easy enough to deal with, despite the fury in their hearts.”
There was something in her expression that had unease crawling through my gut. “Meaning you destroyed them?”
“Those who did not accept the offer to move on, yes.” Her voice held an edge of unexpected ruthlessness. She might be an earth witch, but there was a steeliness in her—a coldness—that was very uncommon. “Our concern right now is for the living. The dead have had their time; they cannot linger here.”
“And is that the fate you plan for those who haunt this place?” My voice was soft, my hands clenched. I had no weapons, but I had the ghosts. And while I had no wish to put any of them in harm’s way by asking them to attack this woman, I could draw on their power. It might not be as powerful or as all-consuming as the force she was capable of, but it was nevertheless deadly.
A cool smile touched her lips. She was well aware of what I could do—and obviously wasn’t concerned.
“What happens to them very much depends on what decisions you make in the next few minutes.”
The ghosts—the warrior ghosts—were gathering. As was their fury. This situation could very easily run out of control if I wasn’t very careful.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, I want you to go back to that bunker and rescue Jonas.”
I snorted. “If the vampires have him, he’s long dead. They tend not to be able to resist the urge to feed when fresh blood is in the offering.”
“He’s not dead,” she said. “He hasn’t even been fed on.”
The certainty in her voice made me frown. “And how can you be sure of . . .” I hesitated, then added, “You’re linked, and it’s more than just telepathy, isn’t it? Because, as far as I know, telepathy has distance restrictions.”
“Yes, it has, and yes, we are. And I will not leave him to whatever fate these bastards have planned for him.”
“Then raise an army and raid the place. You’re living in the middle of Chaos’s mercenary section, for Rhea’s sake—there’s plenty of vampire fodder available there for the right sort of credit.”
“True, but mercenaries are not the answer in this situation. You are.”
The tension in me—around me—continued to build. Energy crawled across my skin, thick with fury and the need to attack. The ghosts didn’t, but I doubted the restrictions of their programming would hold if they truly felt threatened. I drew in a deep breath, knowing I needed to keep a lid on my own emotions if I was to have any hope of controlling that of the ghosts.
“And why would you think that?”
“Because you are what they are.”
Her gaze met mine, and my blood ran cold. She knew. Rhea help us all, she knew. Part of me wanted to run. Part of me wanted to kill her where she stood.
I did neither. I simply said, “And what might that be, Nuri?”
“You are vampire,” she said, voice flat. “Or rather, you are a déchet whose blood runs with the stain of their darkness.”
The energy and fury stinging my skin sharpened abruptly, snatching my breath and making my own seem minute by comparison. Just for an instant, I saw an answering spark run across Nuri’s fingertips—it was fierce and thunderous, and it was warning enough of the power that was hers to unleash. I silently begged the older ghosts for calm—for restraint—and said, “That does not make me invisible to them. That does not mean I could pass through their ranks any more easily than you. The injuries I received when I stumbled into their nest the first time was evidence enough of that.”
“Yes, but it will enable you to get in with some hope of being undetected, and it will also enable you to get Jonas out.”
“And how do you think I’m going . . .” I stopped. She was talking about shadowing. Or, more specifically, shadowing with Jonas. “I don’t even know if something like that is possible.”
“It is, because I’ve seen vampires do it.”
“Just because they can—”
“You are what they are,” she repeated. “And I have read the future in the breeze and the earth, and you are Jonas’s only hope. You will do this. You must, for your sake as much as ours.”
For my sake? Then I thrust the thought aside. Now was not the time to examine such an odd comment.
“Or what?” My voice was flat. Without emotion. Without hope. I knew the answer, because it was the same one that had echoed down through time and history.
“Or,” she said, her voice as emotionless as mine, “I will not only destroy all that you hold dear, but I will send them to a very special kind of hell—one that is usually reserved for the vilest of souls. The choice, dear Tiger, is yours.”
Chapter 12
The urge to leap over the bed and rip her throat out with my bare hands was so fierce I actually took a step forward. It took every ounce of willpower to not only restrain that urge, but to contain the answering surge of energy from the older déchet still gathering around us.
Nuri, I noticed, hadn’t moved, even though I had no doubt she was aware of both my fury and that of the ghosts.
“I’m guessing,” I said, voice low and flat, “that my fate will be the same?”
“Oh no, you’ll be free to remain here—alive, alone, and fully aware that you could have saved them and failed.” Her gaze narrowed a little. “Just as you failed to save them once before.”
Shock ran through me. She’d read me altogether too well. I clenched my fists and said, “You have no idea what went on in this place after the war—”
“And at this point,” she cut in, “I don’t care. Make your choice, Tiger.”
There was no choice, and we both knew it. But I couldn’t go down without a fight, even if it was only a war of words.
“If you could do such a thing to the young ones who haunt this place, then you are no better than those we hunt.”
“I seek to save the lives of the living.” Though her voice remained calm, the flash of darkness and fury in her eyes suggested my words had hit a nerve.
And so they should have. Murder was murder, whether we were talking about the living or the dead.
“What happens afterward?” I asked. “If I manage to survive—and bring Jonas back—what then?”
“You will help us find the children.”
“And after that?”
She frowned. “After that, you are free to go on as you always have.”
I laughed. It was a harsh and bitter sound, and both the little ones pressed closer to me, their energy both comforting and confused. Not so much about this situation or even the woman in front of us, but rather both by my anger and that of the older déchet around us. Not since the gassing of this place had any of us felt so furious, and yet so helpless.
“You will have to forgive my reaction,” I said, when I could actually speak, “but someone who would threaten the existence of so many innocent ghosts to save one living soul is not someone I’m inclined to trust.”
“It’s more than just one soul,” she snapped back. “Or have you forgotten the other thirteen missing children?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” Not the children, not the war, not the worthlessness of promises. After all, had not the shifters assured all those caught in—or herded ba
ck to—the bases after the war that rumors of eradication were untrue? That places would be found for us in a world broken by war?
“You have my word . . .” She caught herself, making me wonder if she’d read my thoughts, then continued, “I swear, on the heart of the earth goddess herself, that if you do your utmost to help us rescue both Jonas and those children, I will do nothing to threaten either you or those who haunt this place.”
I crossed my arms. Making such a vow was the next best thing to signing her own death warrant if she didn’t follow through. Her goddess was not benevolent when it came to such things.
Still . . .
“What happens if I don’t rescue him? What happens if we rescue some, but not all, of the children?”
“If you fail, we all fail. That much I have seen.”
“Answer the question, Nuri.”
“Nothing will happen. A vow was made, and it will be upheld.”
“By you. What of those you work with? We both know you have some sort of government connection—just as we both know standing aside while others seek to cleanse this place of us would not make you a vow breaker.”
The mediscan beeped, and I jumped. I took a slow, deep breath in an effort to calm my nerves and glanced at the screen. In my anger at Nuri and her threat, I’d forgotten to give the go-ahead for all recommended actions. It was tempting to do nothing—to deny Branna the treatment that would help save his life. Very tempting. It might also be the safest course of action and one that would undoubtedly save me future grief. But if I did and he died, then I would be no better than them. Not that I was, anyway. I might have been bred as a seductress, but killing my targets after their usefulness had ended often came hand in hand with that.
I accepted all the machine’s recommendations, then met Nuri’s gaze again. “Do you deny government links?”