New York: A Bridge & Sword Prequel (Bridge & Sword Series Book 11)

by JC Andrijeski

  I watched her convulse––then drop straight to her knees as if someone had kicked her feet out from under her. She fell straight from her knees forward onto her face and chest.

  I stared down in shock as Jon yanked me backwards and the rest of the way to my feet, tugging on my arms until I was more or less vertical. Unable to take my eyes off the female seer, who now lay gasping on the pavement, looking up at me in a kind of confused shock, I fought Jon’s efforts to drag me out of the way.

  A synthetic leather boot landed squarely on the woman’s neck, pinning her face into the sidewalk.

  “Jesus!” I glared at the man who’d attacked her for the first time. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let her go! Now!”

  The man looked up from where he’d been peering down at the seer’s face.

  I flinched.

  He wore those dark goggles I'd only ever seen on military types, made of that same, shimmering, dark green metal that was illegal for commercial use. I never saw anyone but military or SCARB with goggles that looked like that.

  That wasn’t the only reason I stared, though.

  Under the thick band of goggles and over a black uniform with no visible insignia, long, curly red hair fell to the man’s shoulders. His broad face was so covered in freckles, his complexion looked sunburned. He grinned at me, flashing yellowing teeth, and I looked over his broad shoulders and the studded, real-leather jacket he wore over the uniform shirt.

  A sense of unreality fell over me as I focused on his muscular hands holding the military-grade cattle prod.

  Jon pulled me back further, fighting my still-resisting limbs.

  A crowd began to form around the downed seer.

  They kept their distance, leaving space around her and the man with the electric prod, but at that dividing line, they jostled and pushed one another for a view of the downed seer.

  I kept staring at the redhead, doubting my own eyes.

  I was sure it was him, though.

  He’d stood, staring at me from outside the SFO airport with his two pals, not long before the bomb went off. I couldn’t say for absolute certain, of course, not with him wearing those goggles, but it had to be him.

  Same beat up leather jacket. Same hair. Same height and build. Same yellow teeth with too-long incisors. Same tattoos on his hands and neck. Same scruffy, reddish-brown beard. Same steel spikes in his ears.

  The bartender said the guy who gave him the note had red hair.

  I fought Jon’s tugging fingers, still in shock from the attack on the female seer, unable to believe it was the same guy––unable to believe it wasn’t him.

  “Let her go!” I found myself saying. “Let her go! She didn’t do anything!”

  I looked down at her face.

  Her eyes were wide. I saw fear in them, could almost feel it on her as she panted against the asphalt. She looked up at me with a pleading expression, her dark purple eyes openly asking me for help.

  I didn’t know for sure that she was a prostitute, but I guessed she must be.

  Prostitution was still the most common work category for seers.

  They were also the easiest import permits to obtain. Even so, seer prostitutes were expensive compared to the human variety, so it still shocked the hell out of me that the guy would hurt her. You could get tagged with huge fines for damaging owned seers, especially in ways that might affect their resale or work value.

  So where the hell was her owner?

  No one would be dumb enough to let a seer they owned walk around on its own, would they? I couldn’t imagine it, not even in New York. They were too valuable.

  Staring up at the nearest sex club’s marquee, I wondered if maybe they owned her. That might explain how she was out on the street by herself; it was still weird, but marginally less weird if she was this close to her place of business.

  It crossed my mind that maybe I should go inside––knock, at least––and see if anyone there might claim her, before this jackass with the cattle prod hurt her for real.

  “Hey.” I raised my voice, speaking to the guy with the red hair. Biting my lip to keep from yelling at him, I held up a hand, forcing myself to smile. “Hey, you can let her up, sir. It was my fault, okay? I wasn’t watching where I was going. You don’t need to discipline her… I’m not hurt at all.”

  The man smiled at me, those long incisors showing.

  “Allie.” Jon leaned closer, murmuring in my ear. “He’s SCARB. Shut the fuck up.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  Ignoring Jon, I tried again.

  “Hey!” I said, louder. “Really. She didn’t do anything wrong. I ran right into her. Ask anyone here. Someone else must have seen what happened––”

  The man with the cattle prod ground down with his boot, still smiling at me.

  The female seer whimpered and I clenched my jaw.

  “We saw the whole thing, miss,” he said, grinning wider.

  “Then get your fucking boot off her neck!” I snapped.

  Jon tugged harder on my arms. When I glanced at him, he shook his head, his eyes holding an open warning.

  By then, the crowd had grown.

  We’d crossed over to Fifth Avenue, and were close to where all the horse carriages lined up alongside Central Park. Now that it was nearly ten in the morning, the whole area was crowded with tourists, sidewalk painters, knick-knack sellers, food carts and virtual terminals. Horses with old-fashioned blinders and harnesses stood around eating mash in nosebags, tolerating children rubbing sticky hands all over them and tugging on their ears.

  Some of the tourist crowd got pushed partway out into the road when they stopped to gawk at the downed seer, causing cars to honk, and robo-taxis to slow down, diverting around them.

  I looked around at the ring of people staring down at the sidewalk.

  “Seriously.” I aimed my words at everyone and no one. “Did anyone else see what happened? She didn’t do anything!”

  None of the other pedestrians seemed to want to acknowledge my words, or even meet my gaze. Behind me, Jon was still trying to pull me out of circle of clear space around the seer. I knew he wanted to make me less visible.

  I even got why––I just didn’t care.

  I looked back at the redhead, who still had his boot on the seer’s neck.

  From his uniform, he could have been company security, or even some special branch of the NYPD, but I suspected Jon was right. Given the goggles and the cattle prod, he was likely SCARB. Glancing at his waist, I saw two visible guns in holsters, along with a glass, propulsion-type unit I’d never seen before hanging from his belt.

  I couldn’t make myself believe his being here was a coincidence.

  I just had no idea what it meant.

  I was still staring at him, when another form appeared at his side.

  The second guy didn’t wear a uniform, or goggles, so I recognized him immediately.

  His shaved head gleamed in the morning sun over a long, braided black beard. The dragon tattoo on his neck looked exactly how I remembered it from outside the airport. He grinned at me, like the redhead had done, and I saw a single silver tooth shaped like a pointed fang.

  He dressed similarly to how he had in San Francisco, with a dark T-shirt with a white three-spiral pattern, worn black jeans and a faux-leather motorcycle jacket. I saw a gun handle sticking out of his jacket, and he held a second gun in his hands, a custom-looking automatic with more of that green metal woven into the barrel.

  If it wasn't for the high-grade military gun, he could have been a plainclothes cop, except he really didn't look like one. He held the modified handgun on the seer, and I saw the redhead in the military uniform say something to him while he ground his boot into the seer’s face.

  Then a third man joined them, and I felt my heart slam harder in my chest.

  10

  UNNECESSARY FORCE

  LIKE BEFORE, HE scared me more than the other two––for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint logically wit
h my mind.

  He looked at me like he knew me, so maybe that was part of it.

  He also projected a feeling like he was in charge.

  Like in San Francisco, he wore a black, expensive-looking business suit and silk dress shirt, only this time with a red tie and black boots. His sandy-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a few strands framing his blocky face on each side. Rather than softening his countenance, it made his thick features stand out even more, and look even more malformed.

  I still got the overall impression of wealth, including from the flash of a diamond tie pin and rings, and that expensive-looking electronic band on his wrist.

  In direct sunlight, I pegged him at closer to mid-fifties.

  Then again, he could be seventy for all I knew; he clearly had money, so maybe he’d reconstructed his face more than once.

  Like his two friends, he didn’t seem overly concerned about having an audience.

  Looking directly at me, he put his hands together in that prayer symbol in front of his chest, and bowed, just like he had before.

  “What the fuck?” Jon muttered behind me, gripping my arms.

  Still smiling, Ponytail winked at me, and turned back towards the downed seer.

  The guy in uniform still held her face flush with the sidewalk, and now she seemed to be having trouble breathing. All I could see was her profile, and her hands held out on either side in a position that indicated surrender. She looked so human, even with those shockingly purple eyes, I felt my throat tighten.

  I glanced back at the door of the sex club, trying to decide if I should make a run for it.

  I was still trying to decide when the pinned seer spoke.

  “Whoever you think I am, I am not she!” she said in heavily-accented English. She fought to breathe after each word. “I am legal… as are my actions! I have done nothing wrong!”

  “You icebloods never do anything wrong, do you?” the man with the boot on her neck sneered. “You’re fucking model citizens, every one of you. Isn’t that right?”

  “She didn’t do anything!” I yelled.

  “Allie, shut up!” Jon hissed.

  The man in the black suit turned, once more staring at me.

  He didn’t give Jon so much as a glance.

  Bowing his head to me a second time, he smiled faintly, his watery blue eyes flat, unseeing. He stared at my face without seeming to see a person there at all.

  Unconsciously, I took a step backwards, deeper into Jon.

  “We appreciate your compassion, miss,” he called out to me cordially. “It is a most commendable attribute, indeed, and it suits you. But you worry yourself needlessly.”

  His words carried a slight drawl, like he originated from one of the Southern states.

  “…As it happens,” he went on, smiling indulgently. “We require this creature for questioning. Our papers and qualifications are all in order, I assure you.” Smiling a little wider, he flashed his too-white teeth. “More to the point, we obtained a collection warrant for her hours ago. So you needn’t distress yourself about your role in her capture. I assure you, your running into her was only an unfortunate coincidence.”

  The man with the shaved head and the braided black beard took a kind of hop-step over to the downed seer. At the end of it, he kicked her sharply in the ribs.

  He did it almost like he was dancing, a grin on his broad face.

  Behind me, Cass flinched.

  She grasped my bare arm when he kicked her a second time.

  Aiming that modified gun at the sky, he gave a little hop and kicked her a third time, putting his whole weight behind it. The seer wore so few clothes, it was like watching someone kick a naked woman. I winced, looking away as he kicked her a fourth time.

  Tears were streaming down the seer’s face, running her make-up. She couldn’t get enough breath to scream, or even to give out more than a weak gasp at each kick.

  Gripping my arm tighter, Cass let out a short gasp when he did it again, almost like she felt the end of his boot, too.

  From her face, I could tell she didn’t know what to do, either.

  “Please!” the seer managed, gasping. “Please! I did not do anything! I am legal… I have papers!”

  “Papers, iceblood?” The bearded one kicked her again, grinning. “And just where did you get those?”

  Unlike Ponytail, his accent sounded Russian.

  “Please!” the seer cried, holding up her hands. "Please! Listen to the human girl… it was an accident! I am legal! You can call my owner! She will vouch for me!”

  She gasped again, moaning in obvious pain when the military-looking man kicked her in the kidney area again.

  “Stop!” I yelled, unable to hold it back. “Just call her owner, okay? Stop hurting her! She said her owner can clear this up!”

  Looking up at me, the bearded man kicked her again, that time in the face.

  I looked away; I couldn't help it.

  Jon muttered something from behind me, but I didn’t catch what he said.

  I looked back at the sex club, then at the female seer.

  “Where’s your owner?” I asked her, my jaw firming. “Where is she? Is she near here?”

  The guy kicked her in the face again. I winced, biting my tongue hard enough to taste blood. When I looked up at the guy with the black beard and the shaved head, he still grinned at me, but now he wore a colder, harder look in his eyes.

  I got the message.

  Looking from Jon to Cass, I forced myself to remain silent. I knew if I said anything more, he’d only kick her again, to keep her from answering.

  I looked around, trying to decide about the fetish bar, changing my mind when I remembered what the seer already said. She made it sound like she had a private owner––an individual, not a company. Anyway, if it was the sex club, wouldn’t she have said that, given how close we were?

  I found myself scanning the street, looking for a cop.

  I hoped a cop might at least stop them from hurting her, even if they called it “damaging property” versus kicking a woman in the face. I thought they might at least check these guys’ papers, make sure they were legit.

  Unfortunately, I found one.

  He was watching the whole scene from the nearby sidewalk, eating a hot dog from one of the kiosks, his eyes focused with interest on the seer’s face.

  Great. New York’s finest.

  I wondered if anyone in the crowd had an illegal imaging device. Things like this showed up on the black feeds all the time––maybe someone was filming this. Then again, surveillance should be catching this already, both flyers and regular street capture, which meant SCARB and NYPD had to know.

  The question was, why the hell didn’t they care?

  Ponytail guy in the black suit was looking down at the female seer, as if trying to make up his mind about something. When the other two looked at him, he nodded once.

  “Yes,” he said. “Bring her. She’s perfect.”

  Something about his words sent a cold prickle down my spine.

  The redhead with the cattle prod said something to the seer in a language I’d never heard, punctuated by what sounded like clicks. When the seer shook her head, adamant, eyes wide, he switched to English.

  “We can do this the hard way,” he warned her. “Is that what you want?”

  “I-I don’t understand…” the seer on the ground said.

  Her accent thickened, and I winced at the fear in her voice. She sounded more Asian now, almost Chinese. She also seemed to be in shock, speaking as she looked around at the three men, as if trying to make sense of what was happening to her.

  “…I was sent on an errand by my mistress,” she stammered. “My usual handler was not available, so I came alone, but I never deviated from her stated request. If I do not return within a reasonable timeframe, she will be concerned for me. I am not regularly outside of our dwelling. She trusts me, so she let me leave alone…”

  The man kicked the woman ag
ain. The seer cried out, holding her hands higher.

  “Don’t lie to us, iceblood. No one trusts their pets that much.”

  “I vow it!” she cried out. “I do not know what you want from me!”

  The man with the electric rod growled at her. “You pushed her, didn’t you? Probably after you got her off. We know exactly what you are to your ‘mistress,’ ice blood… and we know why she doesn’t normally let you out of doors. Guess the temptation to take advantage of her was just too great, wasn’t it?”

  “No!” The seer shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I feel affection for her! She is a good mistress… I would never push her!”

  “Lying iceblood whore…”

  She started to speak again, but the one with the black, braided beard kicked her.

  “Shut up!” he snapped. “No more of your lies! We’ll clear this up at the district office.”

  I bit my lip, fighting another urge to speak.

  Everything they’d just said contradicted what Ponytail told me about having a collection order for her before they got here. Anyway, if she was a house-seer, they shouldn’t have any reason to have a warrant for her in the first place. Not unless they suspected her of being a terrorist, or some kind of spy.

  I looked at Jon, frowning, and he shook his head, as if reading my mind.

  I was still looking at him when he mouthed, Later.

  I frowned harder, but nodded.

  Soldier guy looked at the man in the expensive-looking suit, who handed the bearded Russian a set of handcuffs. The latter bent over her back, forcing her hands to the base of her spine and locking each wrist. He cinched the dark green bands so tightly the seer whimpered, writhing on the asphalt.

  The crowd just stood there. No one intervened.

  Including us.

  Including the cop, who was now speaking into his shoulder radio.

  “Is this legal?” I asked Jon, my voice a murmur. “How can this possibly be fucking legal? To just beat the hell out of a seer on the street like this?”

  Jon shrugged, but his eyes glimmered with anger.

  I was still trying to decide what to do, if I should try and talk to that cop or find a different one who didn’t look catatonic, when the man with the blond ponytail looked over at me again.