Death by an antique purchased with blood money.
That certainly qualified as chaos.
I’d already taken care of two of the last three people responsible for Pearl’s death. Rupert Bancroft, an FBI Agent looped in with Jameson Denton. I’d found him drinking his face off in a Midtown dive bar. A knife to the throat after he’d copped to making the initial call to Pearl for the fake gig had ended his time on Earth.
Then there was Carrie, a real estate broker living in a posh apartment on the outskirts of the MagiTekk district. Her part of the setup—recommending a complex that would make for a suitable kill and capture zone—had paid off handsomely.
Oak paneled doors. Exotic hardwood floors. Granite countertops. This life had been her reward for sending Pearl and me into the perfect trap, like cattle into a slaughter chute.
But she’d paid for it, in the end.
My watch beeped, announcing the passage of another hour. I pressed it into my arm, feeling the needle’s slight pinch. I stepped over the debris and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water as the effects of the shot rushed through my bloodstream. Taking a breather, I pulled out Malcolm’s note one final time.
The first two names had been easy. The final one—the mastermind—would prove more difficult.
Jameson Denton’s address was in the heart of the MagiTekk district. That meant heavier security and more complications. Waltzing through the front door wouldn’t be an option. MagiTekk was a lot of things—but stupid and sloppy weren’t two of them. With an FBI warrant out for my arrest and the recent scandal, they’d be extra careful with their prized personnel.
Jameson qualified. He’d been the one to put the bullet in Pearl’s head. Spearheaded our capture—a rival bounty hunter looking for a leg up in the business. He’d found it: a handsomely paying gig for MagiTekk, while I rotted inside a camp.
My phone buzzed as I finished the glass of water.
It was Alice calling.
Before I could say a word, she said, “Did you see the news?”
“Malcolm Roark’s the new CEO.”
“No, that’s old.”
I looked at my bleeding hand. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
“He’s threatening a weapons test against an unspecified target if the investigations continue.” Alice was practically breathless. “He’s crazy.”
“What?”
“That’s all the press release mentioned,” Alice said. “Law enforcement is split on the response. Some want to give in. Some want to raid MagiTekk’s HQ right now.”
That sounded unlikely. But it didn’t make my job any easier. MagiTekk would hunker down in a little cocoon—protecting themselves as the day played out. I had a sneaking suspicion that MagiTekk had become too big to fail. Even wild threats weren’t enough to warrant their demise. Or maybe law enforcement was truly afraid of them. With all the weapons MagiTekk had developed, it would be a bloody fight.
One that the corporation might even be able to win. Their tentacles were everywhere, and they were the leading weapons supplier worldwide. The supernatural wouldn’t exactly come to the aid of the FBI—the same people who had forced them into shantytowns and internment camps.
It would be a bloodbath. Total anarchy—three factions, maybe more, fighting it out. The world would be shredded in the crossfire.
I had to give Malcolm credit for the decisive turn. An hour ago, the question had been whether MagiTekk would survive. Now, the question was much more existential: would the world survive?
“Well, the silver-haired bastard certainly isn’t wasting any time,” I said, still processing the news. “That why you called?”
“I was digging for information on your little list, since, you know.” After Aiko had broken the enchantment, I’d called Alice to ask her for alternatives to autocabs, seeing as how I had a target painted on my back. She’d suggested good old-fashioned walking. Anything else was a risk. According to the feeds from my apartment—which she’d hacked—MagiTekk was already ransacking the place.
Only a matter of time before that blood came into play. Hopefully, Malcolm was distracted by his global threats and had less time for me.
A girl could dream.
“I didn’t ask for help.” The list was personal. It had always been personal.
Alice cleared her throat. “I thought you might need it.”
“Need is a little strong.”
“Want it, then.”
“I’ve been good as a solo act.” An extended silence punctuated the call. “But tell me what you found, anyway.”
“It’s easier if I show you. Did you bring the cracked cube?”
“A casualty of war, I’m afraid.”
“Then we can use your phone as a substitute. Might be a little slow and laggy, but you know, I don’t think you’ll care that much.” That sounded like a veiled insult about my technical naivete. It was hard to catch up to twenty years of progress in three weeks. There was a slight pause. “That place does have a table, right?”
“Are you tracking me?”
“I set up your phone, Ruby,” Alice said, as if the answer was dreadfully obvious. Better her than MagiTekk, I suppose.
“There’s a table.” I saw it in the corner of the vast living room, surrounded by a small jungle of exotic plants. Sniffing them as I approached, I realized that some had even been imported from other Realms.
Impressive.
It also suggested that MagiTekk had found a way to traverse at least a few of the nine Realms. Well, seven. The Weald of Centurions had collapsed, and the Tributary was still just a rumor. Still, the thought of MagiTekk soldiers traipsing around the depths of Hell didn’t exactly fill my heart with irreverent glee.
Brushing aside a Howler Vine—which, as the name suggested, gave a sharp yell when it was touched—I placed the phone upon the table.
“Now what?”
“Just let Hiro do the rest. He’ll explain things.”
“Hiro? Not that horny—”
The former samurai emerged from the digital ether with a wide smile on his face. His face was slightly grainy, and the image skipped as he spoke. “I heard my name!”
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how I looked at it, the audio was just fine.
The six-inch AI construct had dramatically altered his appearance since our last meeting. He’d shed his traditional samurai garb in favor of a jacket and tie. He held a silenced pistol in one of his hands. The old hair bun had been let out and trimmed—digitally, at least—into a neat side part. Gel glistened in the ether as he floated above the table.
“What’s with the new look?” I asked, immediately regretting the question.
“Shaken, not stirred,” he said, affecting a terrible British accent.
This is what happened when you spent all your time trapped alone. You started impersonating movie franchises that hadn’t existed for two decades.
“I should’ve guessed.”
“You are delightful,” Hiro said. “Ravishing.”
“Don’t start with that shit.”
His face fell. “Goddamnit, do you know how hard it is to get laid in here?”
“Take it up with Alice.”
“Every companion she makes is so stupid,” Hiro said. “I need a woman of intelligence.”
“Clearly.”
Hiro fired the gun at me, little holographic bullets floating harmlessly through the air. After emptying the clip and glaring at me for a moment, he said, “Well, that was disappointing.”
“Life in a nutshell,” I said. “You had something to tell me.”
His expression immediately brightened. Hiro holstered his fake weapon and gave me the thumbs up. “Oh, this is good.”
“I’m waiting on pins and needles.”
“I never understood that expression. Why would someone—”
“Get to the fucking point.”
Hiro’s brow creased, and he looked hurt. But he gathered himself and said, “The MagiTekk dist
rict is currently on lockdown, courtesy of Malcolm’s threat.”
“Naturally.” It confirmed my suspicions. Things couldn’t just be hard. They had to be impossible. “So what’s the play?”
Hiro wagged his small fingers, and a holographic image appeared in front of the Howler Vine. It resembled the little black dress I had worn the night before—only shorter and tighter, if that was at all possible. The top was cut so low that it was a wonder the model’s breasts didn’t simply pop out of their own volition.
Calling her a model would have been kind. Because she looked more like a—
“Hooker,” Hiro said, with way too much gusto. “It seems our friend Jameson Denton has an insatiable thirst for high-end escorts.”
“Must be nice to be a cliché.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Hiro twirled his gun and then holstered it again. “I’m an original.”
“That’s one way to look at things.” I stared at the model’s sultry lips. “So we lure him out to meet a lady friend, and then I break up his little—”
“No, no,” Hiro said, shaking his little digital head. “You didn’t hear me. Lockdown.”
“He can’t leave?”
“Bingo.” Hiro winked and adjusted his slick hair. “Which means you’ll be the one playing dress-up. And going to him.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that I could reasonably pass for a call girl. “One problem.”
“Don’t have what it takes?”
I rolled my eyes. “Jameson knows me.”
“But you’ll look so good.” Hiro raised a lecherous eyebrow until I shot him a withering glare. “What’s the problem? You’ve seduced people before. It’s just pretend.”
“There’s gotta be something else.”
“Not anything that can get you inside now. Jameson has clearance for special visitors. But he can’t leave.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought of even pretending to sleep with Jameson. “And how are we going to get me through?”
“Nothing a little makeup won’t fix.”
“I think that’ll take more than makeup.”
“We’ll change your picture,” Hiro said. “A little brushwork here, some more there, and you’re a different person. Just the way he likes it. All you need to do is get inside. Then he can recognize you all he wants.”
I looked at the tight outfit. “I can’t bring my gun.”
“You still have that knife, right?” Hiro’s eyes gleamed, sordid little fantasies playing out in his digital mind. “Where big boots.”
After biting my lip for a second, I said, “Fine.”
“Good. There should be some suitable clothes in Carrie’s closet.” When I shot Hiro a look, he shrugged. “The table is connected to her wardrobe inventory. I’m just saving you a shopping trip.”
There were eyes and ears everywhere in this new world. At least the ones watching me were friendly.
For now.
“How kind of you.”
“Maybe you could repay the favor. You know, keep the link active while you slip out of that shirt—”
I tapped the phone’s display, sending Hiro back to digital purgatory—or wherever an AI lived when they weren’t active. With trepidation, I returned to the messy bedroom and searched through Carrie’s closet. I found a dangerously short dress that made last night’s outfit look like a church goer’s. And some thigh-high boots that could hide a blade.
As I wriggled into the tight clothes, it occurred to me that my hesitation had little do with being recognized.
When you think you’re bulletproof, nothing hurts you. But when you fly a little closer to the sun, and your wings melt, then doubt burrows into the back of your mind. And just knowing that someone could resist my charms—even for a good reason—was enough to make me doubt everything. I’d wandered for so long that I didn’t remember what it felt like for the edges of my heart to melt.
And now my confidence was just a little bit injured.
I checked the dress in the shattered mirror. It accentuated all the right curves in all the right places. A quick brush-up in the bathroom and I was ready to impress Jameson Denton.
And if I wasn’t?
Well, I’d find out soon enough.
7
Hour 5
I dropped off my other clothes—and belongings, including the trusty shotgun—at Kendrick’s Midtown bar, since I had nowhere else to stash them. My appearance earned claps and catcalls from the regulars, so I must’ve been doing something right.
Well, at least one little black dress was getting compliments.
Tough shit for Roark that he was missing out.
Confidence mostly restored, I headed for Jameson’s apartment. Alice had set my “appointment” with the bounty hunter turned MagiTekk executive for two in the afternoon. The tight cotton clung to my legs like cellophane as I walked through the gauntlet of massive skyscrapers. I tried to adopt a walk that balanced comfort and sex appeal, but with the knife clinging to a sheath within the long boots, that was pretty much a pipe dream.
Security intensified as I approached the MagiTekk district, a mixture of FBI and MagiTekk personnel lingering on the streets. Maybe even what looked like military—but that could’ve just been MagiTekk’s black ops division. A few of them glanced my way, but most of them were tied up by the current crisis.
I didn’t take it personally. The less they noticed me, the better.
I guess one could’ve faulted me for not taking care of Jameson earlier in the day. That would have made it easier to get through. And he had been the mastermind of the setup—if there was such a thing—leading the FBI charge that had pinned Pearl and me inside the house.
After he’d shot her right in front of me, I’d almost killed him right there with my bare hands. I did manage to break his sternum before being subdued by the police. For the past twenty-two years, I’d dreamed of revenge.
Until I’d escaped. That he was still living hadn’t bothered me that much over the past three weeks. But I guess baser urges were hard to suppress. And there was Harcourt’s simple directive—finish the list—egging me on. So here I was, approaching the security checkpoint set up on the road before the cluster of towering skyscrapers at 624 MagiTekk Circle.
My boots clicked against the polished concrete as I made a forced attempt for them to be audible. I had to get in character. The sound was part of the show.
Plastering a fake smile wide across my lips, I presented my phone to the security guard. “I’m seeing Mr. Denton.”
“Name?”
“It’s on the display, handsome.”
The guy glanced at the phone. I held my breath slightly. Would Alice’s fake persona hold up to scrutiny? Would he probe me with questions, make sure I was legit?
But to my minor disappointment, he said, “Okay, Miss Elektra. You have one hour.”
“I’ll only need a quarter of that.” I stroked his hand as I took the device back.
“Yeah, yeah.” The guard waved me through the metal detector. I hesitated. The blade would definitely set that off, and my plans would be scuttled before anything even began. “Come on, go through.”
“I have piercings,” I said, thinking fast.
“Take ‘em out and go through.” The guy barely even glanced at me.
“You don’t understand.” I affected a whispery, conspiratorial tone and leaned in close to the guard. “They’re…down there.”
This finally got his attention. His bushy eyebrows raised in unison and he looked me over from head to toe, as if assessing my threat level. I gave him a demure smile and he seemed satisfied that I wasn’t an assassin.
“Christ help me,” he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced around the plaza, where security personnel mingled and rushed about. Satisfied that no one was paying close attention, he jerked his head past the barricade. “Just go around the damn thing.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“
Oh, I’m very discrete.” I tramped around the metal detector and headed for Jameson’s building, giving him a little wave of gratitude.
I glanced up at the gleaming façade, the top of the structure touching the overcast sky so far up that I couldn’t see its apex. This part of town was nice enough that the buildings had green space between them. No doubt some MagiTekk bean counter regretted that paltry dip in company revenue every time he ran his spreadsheets.
The gray sunlight cast an ominous pallor upon this too-green grass as I approached 624 MagiTekk Circle. The glass formed a tall archway, with a pair of recessed, clear doors tucked inside. I trotted beneath the overhang and planted myself in front of the entrance.
The doors didn’t open.
I rapped loudly on the double-doors, tapping my boot impatiently. A weary guard rose from behind a gold-gilded desk probably worth more than all the homes in Old Phoenix combined. His cagey movements and ramrod posture suggested he was ex-military.
He approached the entrance, but made no indication that he wanted to let me inside the building.
“I’m here to see Jameson Denton.” I tried to act cheery.
“ID, please.”
“I already gave the other guy ID.”
“That was just to get into the complex.” He nodded toward the other skyscrapers nearby, which were arranged in a circle around the grassy plaza. Points for the name being on the nose. “ID.”
I held up my phone, and he looked at my picture with disinterest. “That shit can be hacked.”
“Do I look like a hacker?”
“I need a real ID with a chip. Or I can scan your neural. Prove you ain’t lying. Prove you ain’t a freak.”
“Discretion is critical to my business.” I winked at him and parted my lips suggestively. “You understand.”
“And security is mine.” He crossed his arms, his stare blank. “ID.”
“These don’t count?” I asked, giving my boobs a little shake and letting out a small giggle.
Blood River (The Ruby Callaway Trilogy Book 3) Page 4