Winter Halo

  “Maybe. None of us are dead yet, after all.”

  Her smile grew. “What did you tell Fontaine about yourself?”

  “Not a lot. I’m currently between jobs and enjoying the free time.” I hesitated. “I’m also going to need more clothes. I cannot keep meeting him in the same tunic.”

  “Especially given that the seams on the current one would appear ready to give way,” Jonas commented.

  “Nice of you to be worried about such an event happening, Ranger.”

  His smile flashed. “Oh, I’m not. Trust me on that.”

  An answering smile tugged at my lips, though I didn’t reply.

  “Everything you’ve asked for we can achieve,” Nuri said. “Even if it will take some time to do so. It does create another problem, however.”

  “Just the one?” I said, amused. I tore off some more bread and dunked it into my stew. “And what might that be?”

  “The Winter Halo security position. While they might not question Fontaine gaining a new lover, they most certainly will if said lover also applied for a position at Winter Halo.”

  “I couldn’t apply as Cat—wrong hair color for a start.”

  “Which isn’t a problem, given you can change it at will,” Jonas said.

  “Yes, but then my looks won’t match my RFID chip, and that is a problem.”

  “That it is,” Nuri said. “Perhaps what we need is not only someone already working at Winter Halo with the same blood group as you, but someone who happens to be left-handed.”

  I frowned at her. “How is that going to help the situation?”

  “RFID chips are always inserted into the dominant hand,” Jonas said.

  “Meaning I could wear two separate chips, and no one would be the wiser?”

  “As long as you kept aware of which hand you were using in each identity, then no, they shouldn’t,” Nuri said.

  “How much more difficult will it be to find a left-hander?”

  She shrugged. “We have some access to their personnel profiles.”

  I refrained from asking how. Right now I really didn’t want to know just how close their links with the government were—and I just hoped Nuri meant it when she said both my ghosts and I would be left alone when all this was over. “And these profiles list whether you’re right- and left-handed?”

  “RFID chips do. Even sexual preferences are listed on the things.”

  “Is nothing sacred?” I asked, somewhat bemused by this news.

  “Not since the war. What blood group are you?”

  “O-positive.”

  “Good. Having the most common blood group makes our task a little easier.” Nuri pushed upright and walked over to the old bench. When she returned, she handed me a small piece of paper. On it was a name—Kendra James. “She’s a former employee of Winter Halo who is willing to talk. I’ve set up a meeting with her for ten this morning.”

  I glanced at the old timepiece on the wall. It was now after nine, so she wasn’t giving me a whole lot of time to get back into Central. “Where? And what does she look like?”

  “Place called Farmers on Twelfth, about a block up from the market. And aside from the orange hair, she has a nose ring.”

  Which was unusual, as most shifters tended to avoid piercings. “And there’s enough credits on the current chip to at least buy her a drink?”

  Nuri nodded. “We put five hundred on it, so more than enough.”

  Meaning I could have had more of those macarons. I finished my stew, then pushed the bowl away and rose. “How long will it take to set up the new ID?”

  “When is your next meeting with Fontaine?” Nuri countered.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Good. We should have it mostly set up by then.” She hesitated. “Be wary if you head into Carleen over the next couple of days—there have been some very bad vibrations coming from that place recently.”

  I frowned. “Bad in what way?”

  “There is a dark magic growing in there now—a magic far blacker than the stuff that guards the false rifts. It stains the earth and fouls the air; I can feel the force of it from here.”

  “That’s probably the huge wall that has been raised around the main plaza. It protects the false rift that was shifted there recently.” I grimaced. “The ghosts were complaining that it blights their bones with its malevolence.”

  She frowned. “Can you describe it?”

  I hesitated. “There’s no sign or indication that it exists when you approach it. There’s not even any sort of energy overflow. But it is, according to little Cat, two trees high, and when you get within arm’s reach, a thin strap of green light snaps up from the ground and attempts to snare you. Its feel is foul, and it’s unlike anything I’ve come across before.”

  “That sounds like the energy of the earth itself has been corrupted,” Nuri murmured. “And if that is the case, we are truly dealing with a witch of some power.”

  Of that I had no doubt. “Can you counter such a barrier?”

  She hesitated. “It takes time to dismantle spells from unknown origins, and I fear that is something we do not have enough of.”

  My frowned deepened. “Meaning time is running out for those kids?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed a hand across her eyes, and for the first since I’d met her, I sensed fear. “But my main worry is what these people intend. If they’re anywhere near finding a form of immunity for either the vampires or the wraiths, we are all in deep trouble.”

  A chill ran through me—a chill caused not so much by her statement, but rather by a sinking feeling that the vampires would attack en masse sometime in the very near future.

  I shivered and rubbed my arms. “When I asked Sal why he and his partners had separated the five children we rescued from the others, he said it was because they had outlasted their usefulness.”

  Jonas frowned. “Did you ask why?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but he didn’t really say. He just said that all the children in the program were either survivors of the rift doorways or the children of said survivors.”

  I hadn’t actually been aware that there were two types of rifts at the time, but, according to Sal, while most did kill, the small minority that were doorways bled not only magic into this world, but also the matter—the very atoms of creation—from the other side. And this meant that those who survived such doorways were neither of this world nor of the other, but a creation of both.

  Nuri and Jonas shared a long glance. In that moment, I remembered all the times I’d not only glimpsed the darkness in Penny’s eyes, but also seen it in theirs.

  It was a darkness I’d also glimpsed in Sal’s eyes, and one I now knew to be the darkness of a rift.

  Both Jonas and Nuri were rift survivors.

  Chapter 5

  Nuri must have seen the realization dawn in my eyes, because she smiled grimly and said, “We were caught in a rift with Penny five weeks after the war had ended, when few were even aware of their existence.”

  “Which is why you all have a strong telepathic bond.” Then I blinked as the rest of her words impacted. “Five weeks after the war?”

  Jonas’s smile held very little in the way of humor. “You once asked why I hated déchet with such passion. It’s because I fought in that war. Because I witnessed the atrocities of your people.”

  It certainly explained the rage I’d seen when he told me about the gas chambers in the old Broken Mountains military base. He’d been there. He’d watched those deaths. It wasn’t history and rumors to him, but something he’d actually survived.

  Rhea help me . . .

  I cleared my throat and said, “My people weren’t the only ones who committed atrocities, Jonas. And most déchet had no will; they were only doing what they were ordered to.”

  He snorted. “Even the humans were n
ot so debase as to order some of the things your kind did—”

  “I would not be so sure of that.” I hesitated, then added, “It was not my people who gassed yours in that base, remember. And it was a gas your people subsequently used, on us, and all of those who looked after us, even knowing what it did.”

  “Because there was no surer way to wipe the stain of déchet from this world.”

  “There were better drugs that could have been used,” I snapped. “There were children down there, for Rhea’s sake.”

  “Something only those in charge knew. And it wasn’t as if the rangers had any say over how those bases—and everyone left within them—were dealt with.”

  “But if you did, you still would have killed us.”

  “Yes.” He met me glare for glare, his expression cold. “Just because I survived does not mean everyone I loved did.”

  “Enough,” Nuri intervened. “The past is something we cannot change. We need to move forward.”

  I snorted. “Has Branna moved forward? I’m gathering he’s another war and rift survivor.” He had to be, given the sheer depth of his hate.

  “Yes,” Nuri said. “But he was caught in a completely different rift.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the anger flitting through me. Anger wouldn’t help; in that, Nuri was right. “So if you’re all actually older than even I am, how is it you show no signs of aging?”

  “The rifts stop the aging process. We can die, but we cannot and do not age.”

  Which explained why Penny had often seemed so much older than she looked—she was, in real-life terms, as old as I was.

  “And is that why you said you’re outcast? Because you’re rift survivors rather than simply Central’s unwanted like most who live here?”

  Nuri nodded. “In the early years, when not much was understood about the rifts, it was erroneously believed that survivors had a connection to them and that having us in the city would somehow cause them to appear.”

  “Which is wrong, of course,” Jonas said. “We are simply sensitive to their presence. We cannot draw or control them.”

  “But a law was passed that forced survivors to places such as this,” Nuri continued, “and that law has never been repealed, even if we understand much more about the rifts these days.”

  “So why were all those people who got involved with Winter Halo’s initial testing program living in Central?”

  “Because most of them were undeclared rift survivors. As I said, the law is antiquated, and it is not often enforced.”

  “Which is why you’re able to move around Central without reprisal?”

  Jonas’s smile once again held little humor. “We may be outcast, but we are not without use. There are many operations that the government—for various reasons—does not wish to openly support.”

  So I’d been right—they did have government connections, even if covert ones. “Well, I hope one of those black ops is not focused on either me or my bunker. And I would hope that none of you would take the job if it was offered.”

  “I have promised on the goddess that I would not,” Nuri said. “You obviously know enough of witchcraft and magic to understand what would happen if I did, in any way, condone any action that would harm you.”

  “That does not apply to Branna.”

  “We will do our best to control Branna; more than that, we cannot promise.” Jonas’s gaze met mine, his face expressionless. “But he is only one man, and you have proven yourself more than capable of self-defense.”

  Yes, but even the mightiest warrior could be brought down by long-distance weapons. I glanced at the timepiece again. “I suggest you keep a very close eye on Penny. The raids on my bunker suggest she is still of value to them.”

  “She is well guarded in this place. No one is getting to her.” And no one would want to, if Jonas’s expression was anything to go by.

  “I’d also suggest you get her DNA-tested.”

  Nuri frowned. “Why?”

  “Because you said yourself, Penny is not what she once was. Given what they’re trying to achieve, I wouldn’t be surprised if she now has vampire and even wraith in her.”

  Nuri shared a concerned glance with Jonas. “I wouldn’t think that possible to achieve outside the force of the rifts.”

  “These people can create rifts.”

  Her expression became even grimmer. “I’ll have her tested immediately.”

  I glanced at Jonas as I pushed away from the table. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  The two ghosts spun around me, excited to be leaving again. While neither of them had my fear of enclosed spaces, they nevertheless disliked this place. They loved the noise, the space, and the color of Central, but Chaos was simply too shadowed and colorless for them.

  Once we were free of it, I sucked deep breaths to clean the foulness from my lungs, then stopped close to Central’s curtain wall. While I doubted anyone would be keeping an eye on former employees, Kendra was expecting someone who was going for a job at Winter Halo, and that meant someone with tiger orange hair. And while I had tiger DNA, it had come from the rare white tiger. No one had ever told me why they’d chosen to use those genes over that of the more common orange tiger, but I’d always figured it had something to do with aesthetics. White tigers might be a genetic mutation, but it was one that was considered very desirable by most cat clans—especially if, like me, they also had blue eyes.

  I closed them and imagined a face that was rounded, with dimples and amber eyes as well as the requisite orange hair. I also reduced both my height and my breasts back to normal; I didn’t mind this rather well-endowed version, but it certainly wasn’t a form I had any desire to remain in for too long.

  After I’d frozen the image of my new shape in my mind, I reached for the magic. It swept through me like a gale, making my muscles tremble and causing the image I desired to waver. I frowned and concentrated harder. The energy pulsed as the change began. My skin rippled, bones restructured, and my hair color changed. The pain that came with the shift was incredible and I gritted my teeth against the scream that tore up my throat, my breath little more than sharp hisses as pinpricks of sweat broke out over altering flesh.

  When the magic finally faded, I collapsed back against the wall and sucked in air until the burning had eased. Shifting was never a pleasant thing, but sometimes it was more painful than others. No one had ever been able to explain why.

  With that done, I resolutely made my way back to Central. Once I was through the gatehouse, I swung left onto Twelfth. The curtain wall stretched high above me, a rusting silver monolith that under normal conditions would have cast this whole area into deep shadow. But the UVs burned night and day, and there were never any true shadows in this place.

  I caught the sound of stall holders promoting their prices and goods long before I ever neared the market. As I got closer, I drew in another deep breath, letting the riot of delicious scents filter through my body and make my mouth water. The market was a sea of tents and temporary stalls that stretched across the entire street, forcing all those needing to get farther down Twelfth through the many higgledy-piggledy rows. Cat and Bear’s excitement stung the air as they raced through the textile section, making the clothing flutter even though there was no wind in this place. As we moved into the fruit and veg section, they continued the chase, eventually managing to upset a cart of oranges.

  Careful, I said, even as I snagged some of the fruit for later.

  They raced on, their giggles of enjoyment making me smile. Thankfully, nothing else was sent tumbling. Once we were free of the market, I began looking for Farmers. It was, as Nuri had said, one block up, and was little more than a hole-in-the-wall place that served hot drinks and the hard, vegetable-laden flatbreads shifters had once used as trail food. I hadn’t actually had the stuff since the war, and I’d certainly never see
n it in Central before. This place had to be new.

  I scanned the small crowd gathered at the front of the building, but couldn’t see Kendra, so I joined the line and eventually got inside. An orange-haired woman with a large circular ring hanging off her left nostril was sitting at the small counter to the left of the door.

  “Kendra?” I said.

  A sliver of energy ran around me as her gaze met mine. It didn’t feel like magic and it wasn’t seeking as such, but it was certainly something similar. As it faded, she seemed to relax. “Yes. You’re Zin?”

  I presumed I was, if Zin was short for Zindella, the current surname on my RFID chip. “Would you like a coffee or something to eat?”

  “Just a coffee, thanks. Black, four sugars.”

  I couldn’t help my shudder. While I didn’t mind some sweets, I’d never been able to face my coffee with the syruplike consistency most shifters preferred.

  Jonas, it seemed, was rare in that he liked his coffee with only one sugar—which, while still too sweet for my taste buds, was at least drinkable.

  When I finally made it to the counter, I ordered two coffees and several of the flatbreads to add to my stash of oranges for later. Both would be better than the beef jerky I was currently living on.

  And maybe, given how many credits I had on the RFID, I should take the opportunity to stock up at the market. It’d make a nice change from stealing.

  Once I had our order, I returned to the small counter and perched on the stool next to Kendra’s.

  “So, what do you want to know?” She pulled the lid off the container and blew on the thick black liquid.

  “What was it like to work for Winter Halo, and why did you leave?”

  She snorted. “Simple questions, but the answers are somewhat more complicated.”

  I took a sip of my coffee. It was smoky and rich in flavor—the sort of coffee they’d often made in the camps during the war. Maybe that was why this place was so popular—it harked back to a time when shifters were considered a nomadic people. Few of them were these days. The forests had mostly recovered from the destruction, but the rifts made it far too dangerous to live within them. Though in reality, the metal curtain walls should not have provided any sort of protection from the rifts, but it was an odd fact that no cities had ever been hit by one. Maybe it had something to do with the silver most walls were coated with, which was not only a deterrent to vamps, but often used against magic.