The Black Tide

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father, it’s that all rifts can be healed. Are you ready to order?” he added.

  When I nodded, the waiter silently appeared. Once we’d both placed our order—beef Wellington along with a full-bodied red wine—Charles leaned forward and said, “Let’s discuss something else. What have you done since I saw you?”

  I told him, and the conversation rolled on from there. But that uneasy flicker remained alight inside me, a flame no doubt fed by the odd tension that seemed to be emanating from him. Normally I would have written it off as tension born of sexual frustration, but this felt darker—angrier—than that.

  After we’d consumed our main meal and sweets, he reached across the table and caught my hand in his. “Is it too much to ask that you come back to my place for a nightcap?”

  I wrapped my fingers around his and unleashed my seeking skills. All I was after was information on Dream, in either her Karlinda disguise or her Hedda Lang one, but Charles’s thoughts were annoyingly vague, and the fragments I caught appeared to be centered only on one thing—sex. Which was not unexpected; Charles might seriously like me, but he liked our sexual encounters even more.

  And yet those fragments didn’t explain the dark edge still evident in both the energy rolling off him and in some of his movements. He was restless, angry, and neither of those could be placed at the feet of sexual frustration.

  “Just a nightcap,” he added. “With no expectations of anything more.”

  I hesitated, uncertain which way to go. While instinct was warning it would be dangerous to go back, it wasn’t saying why, and I still very much believed that Charles himself wasn’t a threat. And maybe if we were in his home rather than in a very public place, he’d relax enough that I could get the information I needed about Dream without resorting to anything more than touch.

  “A nightcap, yes,” I said softly. “But I’m not staying the night, Charles.”

  He sighed and pulled his hand from mine. “I guess that is to be expected.”

  We lingered for coffee and then went back to his apartment. He lived in a family-owned building situated two blocks down from Zendigah’s, right behind the area on First Street that held most governmental buildings. Regulations restricted construction height to a maximum of twenty levels on both First and Second Streets, and his building was one of the tallest. He scanned us in and then escorted me to the elevator. It, like the building itself, was glass fronted and, as we got higher, offered amazing views over the parkland. Once we’d reached the twentieth floor, Charles again placed a hand against my spine and guided me to the right. The tension in him, if anything, had increased, and trepidation stirred. But it was too late now to back out of the situation—not without stirring the kind of suspicion I was trying to avoid. While I might not have seen my follower, I had no doubt he was still out there.

  The sensor beeped as we approached and the door opened. The room beyond was one vast white space, with walls of glass on two sides that provided spectacular views over both Government House and the park. The furniture was either white leather or glass, and there wasn’t much else in the way of color aside from the gleaming metal of the autocook and kitchen appliances.

  I paused to shake the drizzle from my shawl and then hang it up, but Charles moved across to the drinks cabinet. He met me near the plush L-shaped sofa and offered me one of the two balloon glasses he was holding.

  “Here’s to overcoming the challenges that come with any relationship,” he said, “and to successfully moving on.”

  A smile touched my lips as I clinked my glass lightly against his. “Here’s to hoping that you do not consider a gun in the face a normal progression in your relationships.”

  He laughed softly. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Indeed.” I took a sip of the cognac then licked my lips in appreciation. He watched the movement almost avidly, and again, uncertainty stirred. At any other time, I would have simply marked it down as sexual interest, but the gleam in his eyes owed as much to curiosity as attraction, and that was decidedly odd. It wasn’t like he’d never seen me drink cognac before— My stomach suddenly dropped.

  What if he’d put something in it?

  What if Dream, in her Karlinda disguise, had convinced or even forced Charles to drug me so that she could interrogate me further? As a lure, I’d been made somewhat immune to every known drug at the time of my creation, but newer drugs could affect me, as I’d discovered when I’d gone undercover in Winter Halo.

  I trusted Charles, I really did, but I couldn’t ignore the possibility that his sense of duty had forced him to take a step he otherwise wouldn’t.

  “Shall we sit?” he asked, waving one hand toward the plush sofa.

  I nodded and did so, but when he moved toward one of the chairs, I laughed and patted the cushion next to me. “I’m not that mad, Charles.”

  He smiled and sat beside me, his thigh pressing lightly against mine. Unfortunately, the fact that we were both fully clothed prevented my seeking skill from getting anything more than vague flashes, and they really didn’t tell me anything other than the fact he was frustrated. Whether that meant sexually or otherwise, I couldn’t say.

  I put the cognac on the table then lightly placed a hand on top of his. But the flashes remained vague, and that was decidedly strange. Charles had always been something of an open book, so why couldn’t I read him now?

  Had Dream given him a charm to counter my seeking skills?

  It was possible, but if she had, then it was something that was more concealable than the ones around my wrists, given the short sleeves and open neckline of his shirt. Nor could I sense the flicker of foulness that seemed so much a part of her power. But maybe the magic within a charm was simply too small to register. Or perhaps the fact I was wearing Nuri’s charms was not only protecting me, but also preventing me from sensing other magic.

  “I’m sorry you had to cut short your dinner with Karlinda,” I said. “I imagine such an invitation is a rare one to receive, even though you and Julius are friends.”

  “Invitations have been few and far between since her illness,” he agreed, “but there will be other times.”

  “What do the medics say about her illness? Why haven’t they traced its source if she’s been ill for so long?”

  He shrugged, a movement that brushed his shoulders against mine. Desire didn’t stir; it had no hope against the rising tide of trepidation. The longer I stayed here, instinct said, the greater the danger. But yet if I left now it would not only be out of character, but also suspicious to both Charles and Dream. I had to continue playing the game until it became absolutely necessary to do otherwise.

  And it wasn’t as if this was the first dangerous situation I’d ever been placed in. My life during the war had always been a balancing act in which one wrong word or deed could have spelled the end—and very nearly had on more than one occasion.

  “The ceremony was the first time I’d seen Julius in a while. He didn’t share details on her condition, and I didn’t think it polite to ask.” He placed his drink down on the table and then shifted to face me. “May I kiss you, Catherine?”

  “Indeed you can.”

  He immediately gathered me in his arms and did so. As kisses went, it was an ardent, urgent, but oddly desperate thing, and once again it was concern that stirred more than desire. Even weirder was the fact that despite this more intimate connection, I still wasn’t picking up anything other than vague smudges from his thoughts. He was definitely wearing some sort of charm.

  And that meant, whether I wanted to believe it or not, he was here under Dream’s orders, even if he believed the request had come from Karlinda.

  I eventually pulled away and then reached for a cognac—his, not mine. He smiled, picked up the other glass, and then clicked it lightly against mine. “To a desire that has not banked for either of us.”

  I smiled and took a drink. He downed his quickly then
pushed to his feet. “Another?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I drank the remainder and handed him the glass. If my drink had been spiked, then it would soon become apparent given how quickly he’d consumed it. He walked across the room, refilled the glasses, and then returned. If he’d slipped something into the drink the first time, he certainly hadn’t tried it the second. He handed me the drink and sat back down.

  I took a sip and then we kissed again, no less urgently on his part and still with that odd edge of desperation.

  For the next few minutes there was no sound, but this time, when we parted, an odd buzzing seemed to fill my ears, and my head was starting to spin. For one insane second, I thought it was lack of air, but then the reality hit.

  My drink hadn’t been drugged. His had.

  Once again Dream had been one step ahead.

  “Oh, Charles,” I said, as he plucked the glass from my nonresistant fingertips and placed it back on the table. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

  The disorientation was getting worse, and my breath was a now short, sharp pant of air. Whatever he’d given me, it was obviously a newer drug, not an older one. I took as deep a breath as I could in an effort to drop into a semitrance state, and reached for the healing magic to chase the drug from my system.

  Only I couldn’t.

  It wasn’t there. Or rather, it was, but I was unable to reach what was a vital part of my DNA.

  Whatever I’d been given had basically placed a chemical wall between my psychic gifts and me.

  “I’ve done what I had to do.” His voice was flat and yet held twin edges of anger and sorrow. “If you are innocent of the crimes Karlinda has leveled against you, then I ask forgiveness. But if you are not—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

  I licked my lips and tried to ignore the roaring that was sounding louder in my brain. “Charles, Karlinda is not who you think she is. You have to believe me—you have to trust me—”

  “I cannot,” he cut in. “Not when you threatened the lives of two people and have used your position as my lover to rob countless of my friends.”

  Confusion ran through me. “In Rhea’s name, none of that is true—”

  “I saw the security tapes,” he cut in fiercely. “You held a gun to that woman’s spine and threatened to kill her.”

  Meaning there had been security cameras in that corridor even if I hadn’t seen them. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think. Charles, you have to listen—”

  “No, I don’t.” He thrust to his feet, his movement filled with repressed anger and his eyes blazing. “You are not what you seem and this—you and I—is nothing more than a sham.”

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but no sound came out. In growing panic, I reached for Cat and Bear, not sure what they’d be able to do but not wanting to be alone.

  But the mental lines were dead. Our connection had been severed right along with every other psychic skill.

  I swore and tried to get up, tried to fight him and escape, but my flesh was unresponsive. The last thing I saw before unconsciousness took me was not Charles’s back as he opened the door, but rather Karlinda’s victorious expression as she stepped into the room.

  Dream had finally ensnared me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Waking was painful.

  My head felt like it was full of roaches trying to claw their way out, and my body was on fire. Sweat poured from my forehead, dripped from my spine, and appeared to be creating an ever-increasing pool underneath me. Pain was a sledgehammer that crashed through every sensory outlet, and it felt like my head was about to explode.

  It was a feeling I was familiar with, as I’d suffered the exact same symptoms when Branna had darted me with Iruakandji the day I’d first entered Nuri’s bar with Penny and an injured Jonas. It was a drug that had been developed in the latter part of the war by the HDP, and one that had been rarely used. While it had killed shifters with great alacrity, it had proven unviable in real-time usage. Not only had it been extremely costly to make, but it was also very deadly to déchet, no matter how little shifter they had. Even we lures had not been immune to its effects, although for the most part, it didn’t actually kill us. It just put us through many hours of hell.

  But the Iruakandji was not the worst of it, because there were heavy weights on my wrists and my ankles, and a fierce heat burning against my skin. My naked skin, if the cold feel of the concrete against my shoulders and butt was anything to go by.

  I forced my eyes open, desperate to see where I was. It was a concrete box little more than six by six with no windows and no obvious air system, although there had to be something here, given I wasn’t suffocating. The bright lights weren’t UV, which was rather surprising, but they were uncomfortably warm and hurt my eyes.

  Even so, I could see the cameras. My movements were being monitored.

  The door was solid metal, and it was inset into the doorframe, meaning it was sliding and, as such, left no space between the door and the frame. And that meant that even if I could draw a light-blocking shield around me and then become shadow, I would not be able to escape this place.

  Jonas said it’s better not to escape, Cat said softly. Wearily. They intend to use this development to bring down Dream.

  It was all I could do not to snap my head around in her direction. I hadn’t even sensed they were near—obviously, whatever drug Charles had given me still lingered in my system.

  Are you two okay? You sound weary.

  Yes, they both said. But it was a long night.

  I pushed up into a sitting position—an action that not only sent the roaches into a fever pitch and had sweat dripping down the side of my face, but also had the chains on my wrists snapping tight. Those chains were solid silver and would have burned the hell out of me if I’d been, as my RFID chip said, a full shifter. I wasn’t, so they did little more than warm my skin.

  Of course, it also told my jailers that my RFID chip had been tampered with.

  I shifted my butt backwards until my spine was pressed against the wall and then hugged my knees to my chest in an effort to keep upright. It was a position that pulled the chains on both my ankles and wrists tight, but I didn’t care. The roaches now seemed intent on eating my brain and the pain was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. They’d obviously upped the dosage this time. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly—deeply—until the sensation faded enough to think. Speak.

  What happened while I was out of it?

  They gave you a truth drug when you started showing signs of awareness. Exhaustion ran through Bear’s mental tone. Hedda Lang was here, interrogating you.

  And? I asked, my heart suddenly somewhere in the middle of my throat.

  She got nothing about any of us, Cat replied. Not the bunker, not who we are—who you really are—and nothing about Nuri, Jonas, or anyone else. We made sure of it.

  A mix of astonishment and pride at their initiative ran through me. How did you manage that against someone like Dream?

  You know how we created the deeper connection that allowed us to taste the macaroon? Bear said. We did that, but instead of sharing taste, we were able to curtail what you said.

  Oh Rhea, no wonder they were so damn tired! If I could hug you two without making those watching the cameras suspicious, I would. But it was a damn big risk to take with Dream in the room. If she’d sensed you—

  But she couldn’t, Cat said. This room is shielded against psychic and magical intrusion. It restricts her.

  If that’s the case, why is it not stopping me from conversing with you?

  Because we three are one, Cat said. It was only the drugs that stopped you hearing us earlier.

  So where are we?

  In specialized holding cells under the Ministry of Home Defense building, Bear said. You have been here for two days.

  Two days? That wasn’t good, given Nuri’s three days until hell breaks out declaration. If she w
as right, then that event would happen tonight.

  Yes, Bear said. Dawn has only just risen.

  Sunrise was something I would normally feel, so whatever they were using to block psychic abilities was also affecting my vampire soul.

  What are Nuri and Jonas currently doing?

  Working on getting you out of here, Cat said. But more than that, we do not know. Jonas wanted us here, keeping you safe.

  He was decidedly angry when we all lost contact with you so abruptly, Bear added.

  That, Cat said, in a superior sort of tone, wasn’t anger but rather fear. Trust me, I can sense these things.

  A smile twitched my lips, and I quickly ducked my head so that the cameras didn’t pick it up. And noticed in doing so that I was no longer wearing Nuri’s charms. I guess that was no surprise. I dare say I’d also been internally examined to ensure I’d had no devices and micro-armaments hidden.

  Did they give you any idea at all just how they intended to free me?

  No, they just said to trust them, even when all seems dire.

  I did trust them, even if the statement didn’t overly imbue much confidence. I’m going to try and drop into the healing state. Can you wake me if anyone approaches? But stay in the cell—you both need to rest and regain your strength as well.

  As their yeses ran through my thoughts, I closed my eyes and started the deep-breathing exercise that would drop me down into the healing state. It wasn’t easy. In fact, for several minutes it felt like I was swimming through a sea of thick, gelatinous muck—one that rather reminded me of the shielding barriers around the rifts. Maybe Dream had added her own barriers to what was already present.

  But as with the rifts, I eventually did push through, and relief stirred as the healing began. Because if I could push through the restrictions to heal, then I could probably do the same when it came to my other skills.

  Time passed, though I had little awareness of it given the deepness of the trance.

  But as full awareness began to return, I heard the cell door retract. I didn't open my eyes, but flared my nostrils, drawing in a deeper breath to sort through the various scents. The overwhelming stench of my own body hit me first, but underneath that was a scent I was all too familiar with.