by Sarah Fine
“I was about to send Manny and Gil,” she replied, still looking at the screen. It showed only the outside of the apartment building.
“Any more info from Dispatch? Is the scene secure?”
“There’s no info at all,” she replied. “We don’t have any eyes inside, because the call didn’t come from the apartment, so the connection to any security cams inside the unit wasn’t triggered.” She pointed at her control screen. “The dispatch display says the call came from Cambridge.”
Dec’s stomach tensed. “Where in Cambridge?”
“One of the university buildings.”
“Any info on the caller?”
Paula shook her head.
Dec began to jog toward his rig. “I’m taking it. Eli!”
Eli Margolis jumped from the back of rig 436. “What do you need, Chief?”
“Heard from Galena this evening?”
Eli frowned. “I was texting with her a few minutes ago. She’s at her lab, buried in her work. Why?”
“Okay. Good.” Something loosened inside Dec’s chest. “Sorry, I guess it was nothing.”
Eli caught up with Dec and ran by his side. “You sure?” Now he sounded worried, and Dec felt like an asshole.
“I’m sure. A call came in from Cambridge, and I got antsy.”
The alert system went off again. A mass-casualty incident—there had been some type of explosion at Fayette and Jefferson. “Eli,” called Cacy from the back of the rig they shared, “we’re up.”
Eli sprinted for his rig. “Keep me posted,” he called over his shoulder to Dec.
Carol was still in the back of their rig, scrubbing under the floor panels after their last bloody call. “Up for another trip?” he asked, tossing a biohazard bag at her booted feet.
Carol tightened her bushy brown ponytail. “Sure thing, boss.”
“I’ll drive.”
Carol slammed the last floor panel into place, tossed the bloody rags into the biohazard bag, and flung it out the back. “All set.”
Dec activated the siren as the rig roared out of the garage. The likelihood that this had anything to do with Galena Margolis was slim to none.
But Aislin had said, There have been whispers. Dec accelerated, barreling up Washington toward West Street.
“Know what we’re heading into?” Carol asked. “Canal zone?”
“No. Dry land. It’s close to the Common, though.”
“I’d already reloaded the tranqs, so we’re good.”
Dec smiled. Carol was a relatively new paramedic, but she was serious about the job and always thinking ahead. She reminded him a little of Cacy, his little sister, only with less of a foul mouth. When he turned onto West, the street was crowded with late afternoon traffic: buses, taxis, and a few amphibious cars. The glare and howl of the sirens chased a few of the vehicles away, but most remained, stubbornly ignoring the fact that someone probably needed this ambulance pretty badly. Dec double-parked and edged into the back, where he zipped on his antibacterial gloves, grabbed his med kit and a mobile com unit, and holstered a tranq gun. “Listen. We don’t know what we’ve got waiting for us up there. Let me go check it out, and I’ll call down if it’s safe.”
“Are you still treating me like a newbie, Chief?”
Dec laughed. “No, I’m treating you like a serious badass who can protect the rig from canal pirates.” He was only half-joking. She’d taken out two earlier this week as they tried to steal the kidneys from a car-crash victim she and Dec were racing to save. “Stay here.”
She groaned as he jumped out the back, his boots landing hard on dry concrete. It took him only a few moments to jog through the lobby of the apartment building. The elevator wasn’t working, so he took the stairs. The door to apartment 24 was closed, but when he tried the knob, it twisted easily beneath his gloved palm. He drew the tranq gun and poked his head in. “Hello? Someone need an ambulance?”
Dec edged into the apartment. It was a cramped studio overlooking the street. And on the floor next to a small table lay a woman, pale as paste, her curly black hair a cloud around her face, her sightless brown eyes staring at the ceiling. Obviously dead. Dec holstered his tranq gun and got out his cardiac wand. He crouched and waved it over her chest, just in case, but it remained silent. He stood up and looked over the woman at his feet. She’d been stabbed, once in the chest, but it had been enough. Blood saturated her shirt and was slick beneath the soles of his boots.
The only noise in the apartment was the faint sound of a panicked voice, and Dec found its source in the tangled mass of the woman’s hair. A phone. He lifted it from the floor.
“You’re going to be okay. The ambulance will be there soon, I promise.” The woman on the other end of the line let out a strangled sob. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Dec’s heart slammed against his ribs. He recognized the voice.
He lifted the phone to his ear. “Galena.”
She gasped. “Hello? Who is this?”
“It’s Dec. I’m—”
“Dec,” she squeaked. “Thank God. Is she going to be okay?”
He closed his eyes.
Didn’t she have the right to know the truth?
Then again, hadn’t she been through enough?
Dec knew what had happened to her in Pittsburgh a few years ago. And he’d witnessed what had been done to her the week before. Though she’d seemed fine last night, he’d seen how she’d reacted when her volunteer mentioned the break-in. Like a shadow had flickered in her eyes, the memory of terror and pain.
How much trauma and tragedy could a soul take and still survive intact?
“Dec,” she said in a quavering voice. “Please.”
He gritted his teeth. “Who’s with you right now? Are you safe?”
“I-I’m in my lab, but—”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to stay put, and I’m going to take care of this lady—”
“Her name is Luciana Flores.”
“I’m going to take care of Luciana, and then we’re going to talk again. All right?”
“But—”
“I need to get going, Galena. But trust me, you’ll hear from me soon.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He waited until she’d hung up, and then he programmed her number into his phone. He shouldn’t have touched the dead woman’s phone—this was a crime scene. But he couldn’t make himself feel sorry. He called down to Carol and explained what he’d observed. He told her to take the ambulance back to the station and promised he’d hang out and talk to the cops, then get a car to take him home.
As soon as that was done, he pulled his Scope from the setting at his throat, brushed his thumb over the raven etched on its surface, and opened a window to the Veil. He stepped through, shivering a little as the cold air surrounded him. His boots squelched on the now-cushy floor; solid objects in the real world were merely gelatinous structures in the Veil. Dec looked around the frigid gray room. Luciana’s soul was sitting on the single bed near the wall, smoothing her hair. Her clothes were bloody, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She looked at him with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to show you where you go next,” he said gently. “But first I have some questions.”
Her gaze flicked to her transparent body lying on the floor near the table. “About what?”
“Your name’s Luciana?”
She nodded.
He gave her a friendly smile. “My name’s Dec. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
Luciana frowned. She wrapped her arms around her ample chest, as if trying to protect herself from what had already happened. “He stabbed me.”
“He? Just one guy?”
“He had a ski mask over his face. He had dark eyes. Red. A little bit red.
And a knife.” She shuddered.
“How do you know Galena Margolis?” Dec asked, trying to force his voice into steadiness.
“I volunteered to help test her vaccine,” Luciana said. “I needed the money.”
Someone had targeted and killed one of Galena’s research subjects. Dec could barely hear the woman’s voice over the alarm bells sounding in his head. “Can you tell me anything else about the guy who attacked you?”
“He had dark eyes,” Luciana whimpered. “Red. And a knife. He said she had to stop.”
“Who had to stop?”
Her face crumpled, like she was about to start sobbing. “Dr. Margolis. He said her research had to stop.”
Dec knew he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her. He might look midtwenties, but he’d been ferrying dead souls for nearly forty years. When they started repeating themselves, it was time to send them on. He flipped his Scope and brushed his thumb over the set of scales etched onto that side. He let out a sigh of relief when it sparked with the white light of Heaven. “Luciana, I’m sorry for what happened to you, but now you’re going to a wonderful place. Trust me on that.” He pulled the Scope wide and lowered it over the woman’s body, and the last thing he heard from her was laughter, light and cheerful.
He held up the Scope and caught the gold coin that came flying out of it a second later. Fortunately, coins from Heaven were blissfully cool. With it held in his palm, he compacted his Scope and clipped it into its setting, then turned in place.
“Anyone want to come claim this bounty?” Dec shouted, his voice rising with the heat of rage and suspicion. He held up the coin. “Come on, now. You did the dirty work. Come get paid for it!” Normally, the Ker who had Marked a soul was either waiting or appeared as soon as a Ferry had gotten a soul into the Afterlife, palm outstretched, fangs bared. They wanted their half of the gold.
Not this time.
The silence was as oppressive as it was cold. Dec wasn’t chilled, though. His anger was more than enough to keep him warm. This was an unauthorized Marking. An unsanctioned kill. Solid evidence there was another rogue on the loose. And whoever it was, he or she was trying to punish Galena.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” Dec shouted, though he knew full well no one was listening. He bowed his head and drew a deep breath through his nose. He needed to calm down and think straight. Before he got back to Galena, his priority was notifying Aislin there was another rogue. He needed to let Eli know, too. One of them would give Moros the news: the Lord of the Kere wasn’t in control of his creatures. Again. And only he could put this right.
Too restless to wait for a car or the cops, Dec decided to take a page from Cacy’s playbook and break the rules—by using his Scope as a means of transportation. Well, he’d broken the rules before, too, like the night he’d discovered Galena was the one his father had meant him to protect. He’d sneaked into her apartment, just to make sure she was safe. And then he’d been so ashamed of spying on her that he’d left immediately. Although they were supposed to use their Scopes only to ferry souls, his Scope would take him wherever he most needed to go. He reached for it and pressed his thumb to the raven again, expecting it to open a portal to his apartment.
But when he pulled his Scope open, he gaped in surprise. Lab equipment lined the walls, and a slender transparent figure sat alone in front of the giant computer in the center of the room. Though she was just a shadow in the Veil, Dec could read the tremble in her shoulders and the defeated bow of her head. She was hurting. Scared. Her fingers were closed around her phone. She was waiting to hear from him.
Though he had no right and no good reason, though he’d thought he had other, more important things to do, he stepped through the intra-Veil portal and stood in the in-between, only a few feet behind Galena. Immediately, two Kere appeared, their eyes glowing red and their claws extended, ready to rip him to shreds. Galena’s personal guards, handpicked by Moros himself. Dec held up his hands. But they had already stepped back; they had recognized him.
“Has something happened?” asked Nader. He had a stern face, olive skin, and long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Dec knew him to be a fierce Ker who tended to kill with sudden bursts of violence.
“I think so,” said Dec. “One of Galena’s research volunteers was murdered. And I believe a Ker was involved. The dead soul said her attacker had red eyes, and no one came to collect the bounty.”
Nader tensed. “You think there’s another rogue.”
“Looks that way,” said Dec. “Stay vigilant.”
“We’re always vigilant,” said Tamasin. She had her dozens of ebony braids tied back at the base of her neck with a colorful scarf, but that was the only thing whimsical about her. Dec had worked with her only a few times, but on those occasions she’d killed with heart attacks or strokes. Quick. Trevor was like that, too. The guy worked all day as a paramedic so he could balance out the lives he took at night. Dec respected that in a Ker. He hated when they drew it out and savored the suffering.
“I’ll be updating your boss and mine as soon as I talk to Galena,” Dec said.
Tamasin nodded at Galena’s shadowy figure. “She seems fragile. Do you have to tell her?”
Dec had no idea. All he knew was that Galena was waiting. For him. Like his fingers were on autopilot, he flipped his Scope and opened a swirling window into the warm, messy real world. He pulled the edges of the Scope wide.
And found himself staring right into Galena’s green eyes.
Sarah Fine’s Claimed is available Spring 2015 from 47North.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing often starts out as a solitary pursuit, but in the case of this book, it was a shared effort all along. So first and foremost, I want to thank my agent, Kathleen Ortiz, for encouraging me to branch out and try my hand with this genre, for being such a great advocate and strategist every step of the way, and for finding the best possible home for this book.
Which brings me to the team at 47North: Thanks to David Pomerico for enthusiasm from the get-go, and to Jason Kirk for taking the wheel. To my copyeditor, Elizabeth Johnson, thanks so much for being meticulous and fun. And of course, unending gratitude goes to my developmental editor, Leslie “Lam” Miller, for being wise, for making me laugh while making me better, and for teaching me the difference between Scotch and Irish whiskey. Lady, I owe you a Jameson.
I want to thank my writing friends and beta readers, especially Brigid Kemmerer, Jaime Lawrence, and Justine Dell, who read early versions of the manuscript and provided both the encouragement to go on and the criticism I needed to make it better. I also want to thank Lydia Kang for sitting next to me on this roller coaster. Being an author is weird, and I know you’ll always understand.
Thanks to my colleagues, and especially Anne-Marie Bora for sharing my love of romance. Thanks to my parents for cheering me on. Mom, thanks for reading this with your critical romance reader’s eye, and Dad, thanks for not reading it, because that would probably be sort of weird. Gratitude goes to my husband for taking everything in stride. And to my kids, thank you for tolerating my spaciness and for finding me at least mildly interesting some of the time. I adore you guys.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PHOTO © REBECCA SKINNER
Sarah Fine is a clinical psychologist and the author of the Guards of the Shadowlands series (Sanctum, Fractured, and Chaos), as well as other young adult novels. She was born on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast, where she lives with her husband and two children.
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