The cold might be clamping down on the city, but it hadn’t stemmed the swarm of activity. The Market in Darktown was running full tilt, a colorful, whirlwind array of vendors hawking their goods. Mouthwatering aromas wafted from the food stands as we passed by. This was prime time—the dusk till dawn shift change over in the Metalworks. Factory and line workers from the various plants stopped to pick up quick, easy meals on their way home after hauling eight- to twelve-hour shifts.
My mouth watered but I steadfastly ignored the stalls. It wasn’t a good idea to load up on food before clearing out ghosts. A full stomach clouded the sight and weighed down the energy. The smells of bread and meat and roasting vegetables mingled with that of fragrant oils, the char of smoke, and body odors emanating from the crowds who wandered through the Market. I had learned to tune out the noise over the years, but the scents weren’t so easy to ignore.
Darktown was a gritty place. Ruins from the World Shift still dotted the district, although last month’s earthquake had taken down some of the shakier ones that had survived Gaia’s wrath. The sky-eyes patrolled but they never dove too close. There were too many chances of someone trying to steal it or smash it down. The Devani didn’t enter here either, although the Conglomerate had given them a lot more freedom the past few weeks. We were hearing reports from Croix, especially, where the golden soldiers roamed the streets, looking for any infractions.
The Devani were brought in off the World Tree, ruthless and brilliant in their golden breastplates. I had never seen one close up, and I never wanted to. They weren’t human. Far from it, although they looked like beautiful golden-haired men and women with perfectly structured muscles. But the Devani were ruthless, and true to their masters at all costs. If they had emotions, it was hard to tell. In one sense, the Devani were the opposite of Abominations. Order and law versus chaos and anarchy. But the Devani steered clear of Darktown, and word was they never went out on the Tremble.
A bogey wandered by. I could tell he was from the Junk Yard. Bogeys had a feel to them. Dangerous and rough, like feral dogs, they were as likely to cut you as look at you. He gave us the once-over, but I turned slightly and pointed to my whip on my leg. He quickly glanced the other way and hurried along. I was known in Darktown, and a lone bogey wouldn’t bother me unless he was sky-high on Methodyne or Opish.
“You wear your authority well,” Tam whispered with a laugh. “I think that’s what makes them so afraid of you, once they realize who you are.”
“I think it’s more than that,” I said. “I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while. I protect Seattle from Abominations. Most come in through the World Tree. They’re hungry when they come off the tree, and they’re looking for food. So the most likely victims? People down here in Darktown and the Junk Yard. I stop the Aboms from feasting on the bogeys just as much as I stop them from hurting everybody else. I think the bogeys give me a grudging sort of respect for that. I know the Nancies and the play-girls do.”
Tam suddenly pushed me toward the brick building we were near. “Sky-eye. Freeze.”
We froze as the drone hovered overhead. In crowded areas it didn’t matter so much, but I always tried to hide from the sky-eyes when I was easy to single out. I lived off-grid, and the Conglomerate would be furious if they found out. All Theosians were supposed to be chipped. The government kept an eye on us and too often those of my kind ended up vanishing, especially if the Corporatocracy decided our powers were too useful or too dangerous. Or both. In fact, if they thought us both too useful and too dangerous, it was like we were the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
When I was thirteen, Tam had removed my chip and altered it, a painful but necessary act. I still registered as having one, but Tam had hacked into its grid and falsified the information. But if the Devani got hold of me, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that I was running on fake identification.
The sky-eye scanned the sidewalk, its ray of light sweeping over the concrete. Then, with a sudden lurch, it picked up speed and zoomed off toward the center of Darktown.
I let out a sharp breath. “It won’t be back for several hours. Let’s go. There’s the platform.” I pointed up the block toward the Monotrain platform. The trains ran through the city, a hundred feet aboveground, speeding from station to station. Though they were more erratic in Darktown, and they wouldn’t go into the Junk Yard, overall the mass transit system worked well.
We took the elevator to the waiting platform. Usually I opted for the stairs. It was too easy to get caught in an elevator with a bogey. And a lot of times, the cars were so old and creaky they stalled out on their way up. But Tam’s presence gave me a little boost of self-confidence. Truth was, what I did was lonely, hard, dangerous work. It felt good to have somebody else there with me, taking chances and risks by my side.
The next car was due in five minutes. We made quick work of the time by huddling together on one of the covered benches before boarding the train. Then, with a silent whoosh, we were off, headed to Portside to meet with a boatload of spooks.
Chapter 2
Portside was a tidy district, even though it was down on the docks. PortCom, the primary corporation in charge of shipping and transportation along the West Coast, employed hundreds of workers. The economics trickled down to the shop workers selling everything from souvenirs to one of a kind homemade gifts, to the fishmongers who sold the catch that the fishermen hauled out of the waters. There was a brisk feel to the district, and Portside was a haven for tourists who felt safe enough to stroll along the docks in the afternoon, or on a lazy evening after a leisurely dinner.
After Gaia brought about the World Shift, fishing once again emerged as a viable industry after having been diminished for so long due to overfishing, though the trade was heavily regulated. With the freeways blown to smithereens in so many areas and trucking limited, ocean liners and cargo ships once again ruled the seas.
At one time, great airliners had filled the skies but now the aeronautics industry was quite a different thing. Very few traveled via sky-high-lines. Mostly government workers and the über rich. But hot air balloons were all the rage, and drones were used for surveillance and local deliveries, but mostly the government was focused on engineering interstellar travel into a viable reality.
As Tam and I wove through the crowds, I was surprised to see so many people out and about. In the Metalworks, the factories ran all day and all night. In Darktown, the Market was filled from sunup to sundown, but outside of the grittier districts I had assumed that the districts kept shorter evening hours. Apparently, I was wrong.
“Have you been in Portside often? I seldom ever make it over here.” There really wasn’t much reason for me to visit the west bay, especially with the sky-eyes so active, not to mention the Devani. The last thing I needed was a run-in with either one.
“I’ve been here plenty of times, but I usually come for the fish.” Tam grinned, pulling me to him and planting a kiss on my lips.
I smiled, suddenly feeling shy. He was so generous with his affection that I wasn’t sure how to handle the attention. But every time I looked in his eyes, the warmth made me melt, and I wondered how I had overlooked him all of these years. I’d had a crush on Jason for a long time, mostly hero-worship I realized now, but when his fiancée had been killed reality crashed in. While it hadn’t been a magnificent love match, he felt guilt over Eileen’s death. That was enough to enshrine her into sainthood in his heart. Jason didn’t love me the way I thought I felt about him. He made it clear that he saw me as a good friend. Though the realization was bittersweet, it went a long way in helping me let go of the fantasy.
We passed through the Fish Market, which was still open. A long, covered array of stalls offered up fish and shellfish. I seldom ate seafood. The array looked incredible, but fresh fish was usually out of my budget. I stuck to the cheaper cuts of meat, bread and cheeses, local greens, and occasionally fresh fruit when it was in season.
r /> The briny smell of the fish mingled with the saltwater scent of the air. A bumper spread of bloom had drifted in on the inlet, and the combination of the algae and brine and fish set me to thinking about taking a ferry somewhere. I loved being on the water. I could almost taste the salt on my tongue.
“I love the smell,” Tam said. “It smells like a home that I left long ago. One that will never be the same again.”
“How far back are we talking? To what you call Eire?”
He nodded. Now that we were together Tam often spoke of a time before the World Shift and the Weather Wars when the Tuatha de Dannan—his people—lived on an island called Eire. As for me, I was still trying to get used to the idea that I was dating a man who was thousands of years old. I asked him how he dealt with it and he told me that the Fae perceived time differently. That it took on an entirely different meaning.
“The Bonny Fae are bound to the water, you know. The ocean and the forest are where we draw our strength from. Take us away from either and we wither.”
One thing I had learned over the past few weeks was how much the wild meant to Tam and his people. While I was managing to adapt to UnderBarrow, I was never fully comfortable underground. But when we headed over to the Wild Wood I felt free, like I had broken out of jail. Most of my time had been spent in Darktown but I was quickly getting used to the vast expanses of unbroken forest.
“I don’t know if I could ever leave the coast. I can’t imagine living in the Mid-Lands. It’s too flat and vast, with too many unbroken stretches of land. Lakes just aren’t the same.”
“No, they aren’t.” Tam looked around. “So, where’s Queet?”
I snorted. My soul-bound spirit guide was conspicuously absent. “He told me he’ll meet us at the boat. He mumbled something about some task Hecate wanted him to do, though he didn’t say what. He’s been deep in the grumblers lately, and I haven’t felt like asking him much of anything. To be honest, I’m ready to ask Hecate to talk to him, though I don’t want to get him in trouble. He didn’t ask to be stuck with me.”
“Stuck with you? I’d say you were stuck with him. But you’re right, Queet’s a good sort, despite his glum nature. So, where is the boat?”
“Portside, Dock 53, Slip 84. She’s called the Fanta Verde and her captain is scared out of his wits. Captain Varga called me this morning. He asked for help at the temple and they referred him to me. Hecate has a way of engineering jobs when I need them, but a boat filled with ghosts sounds a little out of my league. I’m used to dealing with spirits on a singular basis.”
“You go after Aboms every week. Of course you can handle this.”
“I think you have more confidence in me than I do.” I pressed my lips together, wondering if my bag o’ tricks would be enough firepower against a multiple-haunting. I could haul ass on the hardest of ghosts, but it was never easy, and taking on multiple spirits was a tricky pursuit. Neither fit my idea of fun.
The rhythm of the evening had settled in. People hurried home for dinner, stopping at the vendors to pick up food. The play-girls had slid out of the woodwork looking for Joe-boys, and the Nancies were cruising the streets in search of their own customers. Portside had far fewer bogeys than Darktown, but there were still the sketchers—the ones who weren’t all there, who weren’t Broken, but were likely to go off on you if you crossed paths.
The crowds grew louder as the boys of the Fish Market started their routines. Throughout the day, they put on shows to amuse the customers. Strong and bare-chested, they tossed fish from one to another like it was a game of keep-away. The glistening scales slid against their clean-shaven chests and then off again, to the next one, as though they were dancing with the huge silvery creatures. The displays worked. People bought more fish than they could afford. Nearby, a flautist, a drummer, and a guitar player thrummed away on their instruments, keeping up a cheery, bouncy beat that was as mesmerizing as the dance itself.
As we passed the main market, I was struck by how calm the atmosphere was compared to Darktown. We had entertainers and vendors, but there was always an underlying current of danger. Here, people laughed and had a good time. The mood was lighter.
We came to the edge of the street where a winding path snaked down at a steep grade, leading through the rubble toward the ports. Ten blocks over we could have caught the Monotrain down to the water, but I wanted to conserve time and energy. Ten blocks might not sound like much but in Seattle the city blocks were long, and the hike, a tiring one. We’d cut our time in half by taking the shortcut. Although treacherous—the chance of tripping was high and the downward grade, steep—we’d arrive at the docks a lot faster. We eased our way around the heaps of rubble. The narrow path leading through the dirt had been compacted by thousands of footsteps, and it was so hard it might as well be rock.
Tam and I focused on keeping our footing. The rubble actually proved to be helpful. The blocks of stone provided an easy way to brace ourselves as we picked through the piles of dust-laden debris. Here and there, signboards had remained intact, reminders of a time long gone. The words were faded and no longer readable, but the signs made me think of the people who had walked this path when it was still vibrant and thriving. At times, I thought I could hear whispers riding the wind, but then I’d listen and they’d fade to nothing.
After a few minutes, I paused. Something felt off, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. I closed my eyes, casting around to see if I could sense what was wrong.
“Damn it, I wish Queet was here.”
“What’s wrong?” Tam asked, his voice soft.
“I’m not sure. Give me a moment.” I leaned against one particularly large chunk of rubble. I lowered myself into trance and brought up my Trace screen. Maybe there was an Abom in the area. But after a few moments, I eased back. Nothing. But something was bothering me. I just didn’t know what. My alarm bells were ringing loud and clear.
“There’s someone following us. An outlier, just out of my range of hearing and sight.”
“An Abom?”
“None around. But this is a hunter, and he’s stalking us, I believe.” I opened my eyes. “I searched for a magical signature, but whoever it is, he’s intent on keeping himself cloaked. The energy feels familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it to any specific person or event.” I tried once more to no avail. “Nope. All I know is somebody’s there.”
“Do you want to call Hecate?”
I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. “There’s nothing she could do. She’s not going to come running every time I have a feeling in my funny bone, nor do I expect her to. Let’s just deal with the ghosts and get our butts back to Darktown.”
A gloom settled over me. While Portside was a lovely place, the feeling of being watched left me unsettled. I hoped to hell it wasn’t the Devani following us, though I had no reason to think they would, except the golden boys made everybody nervous. And they had been far more active lately, though they were still avoiding Darktown and the Junk Yard.
The street curved steeply around the remains of an ancient building, and from there, it turned into a series of steps. The winding staircase stopped just short of a quarter mile, which meant about two thousand stairs, with landings on which to rest every hundred steps or so. Below, we could see the panorama of the port lights. Thank gods the stairs were also lighted.
“We’re definitely taking the Monotrain back up,” I said.
Tam laughed. “The stairs are no bother to me, but I admit, in this weather? With this chill? I welcome the comfort of the train.”
We fell into a silent rhythm as we descended the stairs. That was one thing I appreciated about Tam. We could be together, and yet be in our silence. I didn’t feel like I had to be constantly on, or that I had to entertain him. We had our moments of chatter and talk, but even this soon after coming together, we had discovered our ability to connect without words.
I looked out at the silent water. The fog was rolling in at a
good clip off Edlewood Inlet. It would blanket the ports by the time we got there. The clouds had socked in and if we didn’t see snow by midnight, I’d be surprised. I huddled my shoulders against the cold. At least my legs were warm from all the walking.
There weren’t any other people on WaterEdge Stair, a surprise to me. Then again, this wasn’t the place to find easy marks. Most tourists took the Monotrain down to the water, and on a night like tonight, finding anybody out on a pleasure walk was going to be iffy. Anybody here would have business, and would mean business. And so we continued, silent, with only the soft fall of our feet on the concrete steps to keep us company.
By the time we reached the bottom, I let out a groan, bending over to stretch my hamstrings.
“Remind me to go to the gym tomorrow. I haven’t been this week and I’m paying for it.”
Being bound to Hecate in the capacity I was, I had to frequent the gym four to five times a week to keep in shape. Aboms were tough, and I had to be in top form to fight them. I was strong, though I wasn’t ripped like some of the muscle-bunnies who frequented the gyms. But I could spar with the best of them and usually win my match.
“I know one set of muscles you can’t exercise there.” Tam gave me a lascivious grin.
I swatted him, and he pulled me in for a long kiss. Breathless from his touch, I murmured, “Tonight, if we’re not too tired after evicting the ghosts, maybe you can train me.”
“I love being your training partner,” he whispered. “Now, let’s go take care of your clients and get you some cash, so we can get the hell out of here.”
My breath still in my throat, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and bring my focus back to the present. “Right. Onward.”
Picking the pace up to a jog, I headed toward Dock 53, which was another quarter mile down Shipside Street. The fog had, indeed, come in and now it wove around the street and docks like a living shroud, enveloping everything and everyone it passed. I had done a map search and knew the relative position of where to find the Fanta Verde, but even so, the mist skulked along our knees, rising to obscure the way. Everything seemed convoluted. It would be so easy to get lost in the rolling clouds.