“If she can’t even get along with you, what the hell hope do I have?”
On that point, Kade didn’t have any answers. Just a sudden need for a second beer.
* * *
Something heavy scampered down the stairwell, a storm of padding paws. The Gazette’s other investigative reporter, Mahesh, entered with Goldie, his big German Shepherd, galloping by his side. Mahesh unclipped Goldie’s leash, and the dog bounded toward Kade and sniffed his boot.
“Hey, comrade.” Kade ruffled Goldie’s flank. “Behaving yourself?”
In response, Goldie placed a paw on Kade’s knee.
“Someone has been down here.” Mahesh hung his coat by the door. “Goldie was sniffing around the steps, whining.”
“It was Callie Roux. She’s gone now.”
Kade scratched Goldie’s snout while Mahesh vanished into the kitchen and clattered through its contents. The microwave chirped, and Mahesh returned with a small, steaming plastic pot of…whatever it was. “That stuff looks disgusting, man.”
“It’s good protein.” Mahesh twirled his plastic fork through the stringy contents of the pot. “Roux. The smuggler girl, right? Sexy, redheaded lesbian?”
“The one and only.” As the only other investigative reporter on the Gazette, Mahesh was technically Kade’s rival, but they shared information when it mattered. “Heard anything about Open Hand lately?”
Mahesh deposited a mass of noodles in his mouth. “Why?”
“Don’t interview me. Just indulge. And swallow those before answering.”
“Just the usual. Tension between your buds Nikolas and Amity. I think it’s going to boil over soon.”
Talk about bad timing. “You think Amity might start a splinter movement?”
Mahesh shrugged. He always shrugged, even when he had an answer. “They can’t fight like this forever. Right now, they have a mole, and they’ve been squabbling over how to interrogate him. It’s not a good look.”
Kade gave Goldie a final pat, and the dog ambled away. “I suppose Nikolas doesn’t want to torture him. It’s the right call.”
“But doing nothing makes him look weak. Fact is, they’re going to have to make up their minds whether they’re a charity or a resistance cell. They can hand out food and blankets, or they can bring down the Codists. They can’t do both.”
“I hope you’re wrong about that.” Kade glanced at his screen. The latest article wasn’t coming together, mostly because his heart wasn’t in it. The state of Foundation’s transport system? That didn’t need an exposé. You only had to catch a train to see it yourself.
“Go talk to Amity, then. You’re the only person alive who’s not scared of her.” A noodle dropped from Mahesh’s fork to his shirtfront, and he grunted. “What’s the deal with Roux? She used to be one of the best smugglers out there, but I haven’t heard anything about her for a couple of years.”
A contented snort came from the corner of the room, where Goldie had settled himself into his bed and begun snoozing with his paws over his nose. As far as guard dogs went, not exactly terrifying.
“She’s been under the radar,” said Kade. “Now she’s working on something with me, but I have to keep it close to my chest.”
“If that’s how you want it.” Mahesh plucked the noodle from his shirt and flicked it in Goldie’s direction. Showing good taste, the dog didn’t even look up. “So, why were you asking about Open Hand?”
“They’re looking after a friend of mine.”
“Lexi Vale, you mean.”
Damn it. “It doesn’t give me comfort to know you’ve learned that already.”
“The street’s buzzing with talk about her and the Menagerie. This has the potential to turn into a major gang war if Vassago or Contessa get protective. A good broker is hard to find, let alone a prodigy like Vale. She’s going to be irreplaceable to them.”
“Reed’s involved. They’re not going to put their necks out.”
Mahesh gave his lunch a particularly vicious jab. “Fucking Reed.”
Kade returned to his feet. Goldie raised his head, sniffed, and buried his snout in the blankets again. “I’m headed out. Hold the fort.”
“You’re just avoiding that crappy story about the subway.” Mahesh peered at his own screen, and his expression turned gloomy. “At least you aren’t writing about restaurant hygiene standards. You think the people are going to rise up because their tofu got chopped on dirty plastic?”
“It’s all for the cause.” Kade raised a fist. “Fighting back, one paragraph at a time.”
“Can’t it be one sentence at a time? I’d feel like I’m making progress that way.” Mahesh cracked his knuckles, placed his fingers above the keys, and inhaled. “Here we go. Winning the war.”
He typed with wild gusto, his fingers springing over the keys and thumping hard at the end of every line. “Oh, and be careful out there, okay? When you get secretive like this, it usually means you’re in trouble.”
“I’ll be careful. For a start, I won’t eat at the restaurants in your article.” Kade saluted the room. “So long, brothers.”
“Solidarity, comrade.”
Goldie gave a drowsy snort. A true hero of the revolution.
* * *
The grim apartment tower bordered the blighted Rail District, keeping company with shattered buildings and streets filled with debris. Six stories of drab cement. Nobody would believe that Foundation’s most glamorous and successful broker had chosen to live here.
Kade pressed the buzzer, producing a long, unbroken shrilling sound. The intercom crackled. “What?”
“I want to talk to the building manager.”
“That’s me. And I repeat: what?”
“I want to visit Lexi’s apartment.”
“You can’t do that. She said nobody was to go in.”
So far, just as Kade had expected. “I understand. Can I bribe you and get this over with?”
“Bribe me? What do you think I am?” The door opened, and a large man with a stomach gently swelling over his pants appeared. “Do come in.”
The foyer smelled like sour milk and dead cats. Kade waited by the chipped counter as the manager waddled around it. He squinted at Kade through puffy eyes.
“You aren’t a shut-in, are you?” the manager said. “They made a big enough mess last time. And they scared the shit out of my residents.”
A plastic bag in the corner rustled. Mice maybe, or perhaps the bag itself had come to life, animated by whatever strange odor haunted this room.
“I’m an old friend,” Kade said.
“Lexi doesn’t have friends. Just girls and business associates. If you’re not lying, you better have a way to prove it.”
“I thought you were going to take a bribe.”
The manager scratched his impressive chins. “Maybe, but I have to know how much to gouge you for. If you’re actually a friend, we can settle for something more reasonable.”
“Okay.” Kade bowed his head. At least the floor tiles seemed clean—in fact, they were cleaner than the counter. How the hell had that happened? “I know she can afford to rent anywhere in this district, but she chose this place, even though it’s like living in the devil’s armpit. Why? Because it puts her near to something important. A grave.”
“Yeah, the graveyard on the corner. She goes out there every few days. You haven’t been spying on her, have you?”
“No. I go there too, but on different days. We have an arrangement not to run into each other.”
The manager nodded slowly. “So you knew that dead girl. Ash.”
“Right. The three of us grew up not far from here, a couple of blocks over in the Rail District. When we chose the grave, we wanted to make sure Ash ended somewhere further from where she’d started. I’ve always felt there’s something depressing about being buried where you were born.”
The manager’s pudgy face drooped. “I get you. You know Lexi from way back, is that what you’re saying? Real old fri
ends?”
“As old as it gets. I’ve known her since we were just children.” Kade lowered his voice. “The agents who tossed her room aren’t done hunting for her. She needs my help.”
The manager unhooked a key and pushed it across the counter. “I don’t need your bribe. Room Nine. Don’t make a mess or move anything, okay?”
Kade smiled. “I appreciate it.”
The elevator seemed a dubious prospect, so he took the stairs. The door to the fourth floor opened with an unhappy squeak and refused to close afterward. Kade gave it a final futile push before following the threadbare carpet to the door of Room Nine.
Discounting the overturned mattress spilling its stuffing and the drawers hanging loose, the apartment was nicer than its external surroundings might suggest. The carpet was plush and vibrant, and the walls had been repainted. Not much furniture, though: a wardrobe and some drawers, a couch, and a television. And a queen-sized bed, naturally.
Kade peered through an archway and discovered a kitchen. Its spotless surfaces suggested it had never been used. Beyond was a small door that presumably led to a bathroom. Not how most people would expect the elegant, fashionable occupant to live, but then she didn’t really live here. Just inhabited the place now and then.
The wardrobe had been left open, revealing a row of stylish jackets in disarray. Kade flicked through them and smiled. There it was, her first jacket: a black bomber they’d found forgotten in a bar. It had been a loose fit for a thirteen-year-old, especially one as skinny as Lexi, but she’d worn it with pride, swaggering the neighborhood with her blonde hair slicked back and picking fights with anyone who laughed.
Lexi had spent a lot of her childhood fighting. Any label people stuck to her, she took as an insult. She’d brood over it for hours.
I’m not like you, she’d said to him once as they’d sat by the old railroad lines. I don’t want to be a boy. I don’t want to be anything.
Kade neatened the jackets, shut the wardrobe, and took a step back. It had to be around here, so where was it? The agents had already split the mattress, taken apart the pillow…where else?
He stopped by the full-length mirror beside Lexi’s bed. He was looking a little rough these days, bristling with stubble, his forehead creased by lines. His hair had been doing its own thing for months—he was shaggier than Goldie. But it was still reassuring to see that tired man reflected in the glass. Especially with the memories this room was stirring.
Where would she put it? Kade turned in a circle. She would’ve hidden it somewhere she wouldn’t find it by chance. Maybe with something else from the past, an object connected in some way. Maybe…
He opened the wardrobe and rifled to the bomber jacket. It had a single pocket, buttoned. Tensed for disappointment, Kade popped it open.
And there it was.
It was Ash who had found the bomber jacket. Kade had wanted it, had fought with Lexi for it, but Ash had laid down the law as she always did. It would fit Lexi better, she’d told them, and Kade had backed down. He would have done anything to win Ash’s approval. To make her smile.
Later that night, Lexi had relented and let Kade try the jacket. In a murky pane of glass, he’d seen the spectacle Ash had been protecting him from: a scrawny kid in a jacket tailored for the body he could only dream of having. He’d given the jacket back to Lexi, tears in his eyes, and she’d hugged him.
You looked badass, she’d said. You just need to grow a little more, that’s all. Then I’ll let you wear it. I promise.
He stared at the photo in his hand. Ash. The frozen dead. Maybe this would remind Lexi, and she’d listen to him the way she once had. Or maybe—the thing he feared most—she’d never forgotten.
If so, there was nothing Kade could do.
CHAPTER 10
“This sucks,” said Zeke. “Lexi’s reading my mind.” He cleared his throat. “I mean that as a joke, obviously.”
Riva peered at him over her cards. “Well, obviously. Nobody here really believes in mindreading, do they?”
“Zeke might.” Lexi glared at the loudmouth idiot. “He’s big on psychics, angels, all that stuff. Crystals. Orbs.”
Zeke gave her an apologetic look. “Oh, yeah. I’m fucking wild about it. Check my aura like three times a day, keep in touch with the fucking Martians… So, how about my shitty luck, huh?”
It was poker night, Callie’s idea, but none of them had wanted to play for money. They’d found a box of screws to gamble with instead. After an hour, Zeke barely had enough left to assemble a miniature bookshelf. To be fair, it wasn’t just his shitty luck—he’d been right about Lexi reading his mind.
“This’ll comfort you.” Callie handed Zeke the whisky flask. She owned a healthy pile of screws, though it was nothing next to Lexi’s silver mountain. “Show us your hand, Riva. I know you’ve got something good.”
Riva smiled. “I’m not sure I remember all the combinations.”
“You’re doing okay, though,” said Zeke, the flask hovering near his lips. “How’d you end up working for a bunch of Open Hand stiffs, anyway? You seem too cool for that shit.”
“Isn’t it obvious? For the money.”
Callie broke into giggles. “This one’s funny. Let’s keep her.”
“She’s cute,” said Lexi. “But can she play poker?”
Riva tossed a few screws into the pot. “I call. Let’s see your bluff.”
“No bluff, babe.” Lexi spread her cards on the table. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Full house,” said Zeke with approval. “Kings full of jacks. Fucking glad I folded now.”
“I should’ve joined you.” Callie showed her hand. Three of a kind. “What have you got, Riva?”
Riva placed her cards on the table. Four tens and the Three of Hearts.
“Yes! You beat her!” Callie raised a hand, and Riva returned the high-five. “How’s that feel, Lexi?”
Lexi grinned. She’d been genuinely blindsided—reading emotions didn’t help much when her opponent didn’t know the value of the cards she was holding. Still, the round couldn’t have gone better had she planned it. It was Riva’s affection she intended to win back, not a bunch of stupid screws.
She had to give Callie credit: the poker night had been the highlight of an otherwise shitty day. Callie had spent the afternoon in her van, dismantling junk and cleaning gadgets. Zeke had helped the medics perform a round of vaccinations. Left to herself, Lexi had watched television and sulked, wondering why the hell Nikolas was taking so long to get things moving.
This, though, this was good. Relaxing. It was even nice watching Callie jostle Riva in her seat, the sulky smuggler now as playful as a kitten. Flirting hard, in fact, but Lexi could hardly blame her.
Zeke collected the cards. “Let’s get this started!”
Before he could start shuffling, there was a sharp rap at the door. “It’s Amity,” said a voice from outside, and the door opened, proving Amity to be an honest woman. “I see you’re all busy wasting time.”
“Don’t judge,” said Riva. “I’m off-duty.”
“You can remain that way. I only need to borrow Alexis.”
“Lexi,” said Lexi. “Enough with this Alexis crap.”
They stared each other down. “Lexi,” said Amity in the bitter tones of a general conceding her most valuable territory. “Do you remember our earlier discussion? Well, the moment is now.”
“Seriously? Can’t you see I’m bonding?”
“I said that it’s time. Come with me.”
As much as Lexi wanted to tell her to fuck off, Amity didn’t seem like the kind of woman it was wise to argue with. “Sorry, guys.”
Callie frowned. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m good. Don’t stop playing just because of me.” Lexi laid a hand on Riva’s shoulder. “We’ll do this again tomorrow, okay?”
Riva nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced.
Lexi joined Amity in the corridor and gave the group an apologe
tic wave before closing the door. “Thanks for ruining a lovely evening.”
Amity shrugged. “Follow me. No dithering.”
“What’s the rush? It’s half past eleven.”
“Don’t try my patience.” Amity peered down an adjoining hallway. “We have to exit by a back way, or else we might be seen.”
The back way in question opened into an alley choked with refuse and bordered by jagged steel fencing. The air stank, the night was moonless and the graffiti—well, it was some nasty shit, definitely not the refined graffiti Lexi was used to. She looked wistfully behind her as Amity shut the door.
“Don’t make that face,” said Amity. “I’ve no sympathy for you.”
“Can’t we go back and play poker? You’d be amazing at it.”
“I’m even better at destroying people who test my patience. Hurry up.”
No arguing with that. They plunged into the darkened alley. “The gangs around here,” said Lexi as she stepped over a puddle of sludge. “They’re pretty rough, right?”
“Very rough.” Amity strode several meters ahead, her broad-shouldered physique intimidating in the gloom. “And they have little love for Open Hand.”
In the shadows, a complex form shifted beneath an old blanket. Could have been a sleeping person. Could have been a pack of rats mating. Lexi picked up her pace. “So what stops them messing with you?”
“Me.” Something rattled in the dark. Amity glanced in its direction, frowned, and continued walking. “Are you able to defend yourself?”
“If I’m not up against an eight-foot roid freak with a great white shark strapped to each arm, sure. Next question. Why are we going through the seediest alleys imaginable?”
“Efficiency. Anyone who causes trouble on these streets eventually answers to me. With a little luck, we’ll find them first.”
“So you’re a vigilante hero and I’m your sidekick? A dream come true.”
A street lamp towered above the chipped cement, its glow scattering the shadows. Abandoned houses lined the street beyond it. Most looked uninhabitable—collapsed roofs, open windows, missing doors—while a few had been demolished, leaving open lots strewn with bricks.
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