“About Oliver,” I said, walking to his desk and placing my hands on top. “I’ve been thinking how Stella can change her appearance by communicating directly with the nanites in her body, which in turn are the only things that can keep up with our regeneration and healing abilities.”
Cort cleared his throat. I didn’t usually notice how many times he did that before he talked, but sometimes it could be annoying. “Nanites have been used on other Unbounded but simply aren’t advanced enough to work on programming alone. We’ve been able to keep our bodies from rejecting the tracking chip, but it’s too complicated for so many nanites to change someone’s appearance without constant updates.”
“Basically, you need a computer in your head.”
He grinned. “Yep. Or to be a technopath. Or in your case to be connected to one. But even then the appearance doesn’t change much. That would require more sophisticated nanites, which is still far down the road, even for us.”
“Okay, but in that same vein, what about an illusion instead of a physical change? Could Oliver create a realistic enough illusion over his own body to pass himself off as someone else?”
Cort rubbed his chin, his gaze intensifying. “And could you do the same by channeling his gift?”
“Exactly. As a temporary measure, or course, like during an assault. Or some other operation.”
“I don’t know. It’s been so long since an illusionist existed that no one really knows what they’re capable of. I’ll do some research and a few experiments with Oliver.” He coughed. “I might have had an answer for you already if we hadn’t been so occupied since Oliver and Mari joined us.”
I understood. He’d been presented with two new abilities, plus my own developing one. Unlike Stella with her connection to computers all over the world, Cort had to find information the old-fashioned way, a piece at a time. “Maybe Stella could help?”
He rubbed his chin. “Maybe.” He was already lost in thought, studying patterns that only he could see. If anyone could help Oliver do what I wanted, it would be him.
“Thanks, Cort.” I was pretty sure he didn’t notice me as I left. Five hundred years, and you’d think he’d be a little better with women. Perhaps he’d given up. I knew he’d been married several times and had children, including two Unbounded who lived in Europe. I wondered if he might decide to try again with Mari. She wouldn’t die and leave him like the mortals had.
Unless the Emporium killed her.
Pushing back the thought, I strode to the elevator. I could sense two life forces heading for the garage, so I punched that level and waited for the doors to close.
My mind shifted to the pending meeting with the Hunters. If they had any idea who we were, they’d shoot us on sight. We had to be ready. Whatever happened, we couldn’t leave the Unbounded bodyguard with them for long, even if that meant exposing his nature. The choice didn’t leave much room for my conscience since revealing that he was Unbounded to the Hunters he was infiltrating was the equivalent of ordering his death. The alternatives were almost as brutal. I didn’t know if I would ever become accustomed to choosing not between good and evil but between evil and worse evil.
Regardless, the Unbounded bodyguard could be close to retrieving the Hunter records that would lead him to Renegade posterity. We had to protect them at all cost.
USUALLY WITH THE UNBOUNDED GENE pulsing through my veins, I felt like the nearly immortal that I was: confident, bold, and a bit arrogant. Not today. I was too nervous. Gone was my assurance of last night. There were some things Unbounded feared, and the truth was that I’d nurtured a private unease about Hunters since my Change when they’d attacked us and I’d ended up sharing space with my first bullet. Subsequent encounters had gone downhill from there.
It didn’t help my worry that even this early on Saturday there were a lot of people in the streets, glowing life forces filled with unshuttered emotions zinging around and begging to be noticed. Love, hatred, greed, and worry. The stronger the emotion, the more it pleaded for recognition.
As I drove to the address Keene put into the GPS on the dash of the white rental sedan, I clamped down on my emotions and strengthened my mental barrier. In and out, I told myself. Nothing to worry about. Ritter’s philosophy hadn’t worked all that well at the hotel last night, but that didn’t mean things wouldn’t go smoothly today. I’d feel better if I weren’t taking either Mari or Keene along. It was one thing to risk my own life, but I felt responsible for them.
“I told them I was bringing my girlfriend,” Keene said from the passenger seat. “They think we’re all Hunters from Arizona. And don’t forget that my undercover name with them is KC Farrell.”
I scowled. “You talked to Emerson? Why didn’t you say we were just friends?”
“I talked to him about an hour ago. And I didn’t mean you. I meant Mari.” He smiled at her in the backseat. “You don’t mind, do you? Hunters tend to get their families and such into the business.”
Mari shrugged. “I guess not. If it helps.”
Why did that make me more irritated? I stopped myself from honking as the driver in front of me slammed on his brakes for no apparent reason. The traffic was terrible for a Saturday morning, but I should have expected as much of downtown Manhattan.
“I thought you never lied,” I muttered.
“Cover stories are different. For today, we are our cover stories.” A fine example of why even Keene’s truth was sometimes not really the whole truth.
“My Hunter contacts gave me such glowing recommendations,” Keene continued, “that Emerson agreed to meet with me. Fortunately he happened to be free this morning.”
Happened. I didn’t like the sound of that. Coincidence usually meant trouble.
“Relax,” Keene said. “No one has plans the night after a big fundraiser. Too busy sleeping off the booze.”
“Then why’s he awake?” Mari asked, leaning forward so much that the ends of her blond wig fell over the front seat.
“Liver trouble.” Keene shrugged. “Or so they say. Not much of a drinker at any rate.”
That meant three of us because Unbounded didn’t usually waste their time on alcohol that never stayed in our bodies long enough to do anything wonderful or destructive.
“Commuting to his ranch outside the city isn’t always an option,” Keene went on, “so he owns a thirty million dollar townhouse in West Village. That’s where we’re going.”
Mari whistled. “Must be some townhouse.”
At least it wasn’t the hotel from yesterday, where we might be identified this close to the night of the attack. “We’re almost there,” I said. We’d entered an upscale area where a variety of townhouses lined both sides of the streets—brick, brownstone, stucco. Some looked alike, while others screamed out individuality.
The GPS directed me to a large, red-bricked corner building, but I drove past several equally impressive townhouses and parked down the street. Keene gave a little groan. “So far away?”
“Hey, you’re the one who decided to come along.” Like always, I checked the mirror for pursuit, but there was nothing suspicious. “If things go bad there’s no use making our vehicle noticeable.” The traffic here was considerably less than near our safe house, which would be nice if we had to start shifting. Or if Mari had to shift. Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave Keene behind.
“I think you should leave some of your weapons here,” Mari said to me. “In case they ask for our coats. It’ll be weird if you refuse, won’t it?”
“Okay. Okay.” I opened my coat and took out the sai, placing them in a black duffel Mari retrieved from the trunk. I hoped Ritter never knew I’d left them. After Stella’s comment, I had the sneaking suspicion they might be worth more than I thought. At least they should be safe in this part of town.
Keene’s green eyes followed my movements as I laid my machete in its scabbard on top of the sai. I almost wished I’d left the weapons at the safe house, but I might need them if things
turned nasty.
Moments later, I felt positively naked as we walked down the street. The air was crisp and cold, searing my throat, and the slight smell of ash wafted down from several nearby chimneys.
“So,” Keene said, keeping pace with me, “those aren’t your ordinary sai.”
I tucked my hands inside my pockets, holding the leather of my coat closer to my body, glad the top part was lined with a flannel-like material. “They’re Chinese.”
“Did he give them to you?”
“Who?”
“Ritter.”
I stopped walking and faced him. “Yes. He thought I should learn a new weapon. Is that a problem?” I expected Keene to laugh and make some witty comment, but he didn’t. His expression remained sober as he studied my face.
“They’re at least a hundred years old. Maybe two hundred. Definite antiques.”
“Funny, they don’t look that old.”
“And very valuable.”
“Good thing Unbounded have a lot of money.” I started walking again, telling myself the cost of the sai didn’t mean a thing. I would have a fortune myself someday, once the modest monthly allotment Ava, as my ancestor, had given me matured in the stock market. A century or two did wonders for the pocketbook.
Keene hurried to catch up with me, and I slowed my pace slightly. No use wearing the man out before we arrived at the townhouse. “The point is that he gave them to you.”
I lifted a brow. An odd emotion emanated from his surface thoughts, something that seemed an awful lot like jealousy. Yet it wasn’t like Keene to exhibit such emotion. In fact, one of the reasons I liked him so much is that he didn’t push or expect more from me than I was willing to give. Not like Ritter. I didn’t have to lose myself in him. But Keene was mortal, which added complications while at the same time taking others away. I had to admit that in the months Ritter had been gone before our mission to Mexico, I’d started thinking that maybe it would be a good thing to fall in love with a mortal instead of an Unbounded. No worries about staying together for centuries or bitter breakups. Of having dozens of children and even more posterity to look after.
Of course, losing out to death was the end play of such a relationship, and I didn’t think I’d ever come to terms with that finality.
Keene grinned suddenly, as if at a private joke. “Never mind. I’ll show you some moves with the sai later, if you’d like.”
Relief ran through me. “Sounds good. Provided you can still walk after we’re finished here.”
“Oh, I’ll be able to do a lot more than walk.”
His word flirted with desire, though his emotions were unclear, and I didn’t want to decipher them. Instead, I pushed out my thoughts along the streets, searching for anything unusual. I could sense the life forces inside the buildings as we passed, and I hadn’t always been able to at this range, which meant my nightly practice had paid off.
“Man, it’s so stinking cold,” Mari said, pushing up her costume glasses.
I had to agree. “At least there’s no snow. We’re almost there.”
Another minute and we reached the outside stairs. Keene rang the doorbell as Mari and I waited tensely, ready to act. Mari wasn’t too skilled as a fighter, and once she’d actually fired a gun, she’d taken a dislike to pistols, but unlike me, she was good with knives. In part because she could shift within inches of her target, shove in the knife, and shift instantly away. It was a close and personal way to kill—and it made me appreciate even more the ballistic knife that allowed me more space. In fact, next to my nine mil, it was the most useful weapon Ritter had ever arranged for me.
The door opened to reveal the woman from last night with the gray-blond hair. Charlaine Emerson, according to Stella, Davis Emerson’s wife. No purple dress today, but a comfortable yellow pantsuit that gave her smile added cheerfulness. The outfit was still an expensive piece like the plaid monstrosity, but the designer had opted for comfort rather than flash.
“Yes?” she asked, her wide-set eyes falling across us. Her forehead was also wide, perhaps a little too wide, but her hair swept low to cover it, kept in place by several yellow clips.
“I’m KC Farrell,” Keene said. “I have an appointment with your husband.”
“Oh, yes, he’s expecting you. Come on in.”
Heat rushed out at us as we stepped inside. The entryway wasn’t vaulted, but was high enough that I didn’t feel the ceiling would fall on us. Elegance called attention everywhere I looked, from the travertine on the floor to the gilded picture frames, but it all appeared new, as though no one really lived here. I wondered what Charlaine’s house in the country looked like and guessed it would be more casual.
“Please let me take your coats.” Charlaine opened a door to the left, which revealed a large walk-in closet, perfect for entertaining. Only a few coats hung on the metal bar, and one on a coatrack in the corner.
Mari cast me a triumphant look as she shrugged out of her coat. With brief hesitation, I gave mine up as well because already the heat of the house threatened to strangle me. There were only five life forces inside, and as long as they weren’t all Unbounded, Mari and I could handle them with the weapons we carried in our jeans and boots.
Charlaine led us down a hallway to where the Unbounded bodyguard stood outside a doorway. “They’re here,” she announced unnecessarily. To us, she added. “Brody will take care of you. I’ll bring in some coffee and croissants in a bit. I hope you enjoy them. My grandmother was from France and the croissants are a family recipe.” She turned, leaving us alone with the Unbounded.
Brody stuck out his hand toward Keene, and they began a series of handshakes, occasionally exchanging a whispered phrase or two. Something about good hunting and three passes of a sword.
No doubt about what that meant. I pushed my thoughts toward Brody, prepared to break through his weak shield, but today he wasn’t even blocking. Nothing important stood out in the sand stream of his thoughts except making sure we were legitimate. He finished with Keene and his eyes met mine. He was handsome with deep blue eyes, blond hair and sideburns, and broad across the shoulders like someone accustomed to working out in a gym.
The men finished their strange ritual and turned to us. “This is Jessie, my girlfriend.” Keene put his arm around me and pulled me close.
I blinked at him. What? He gave me a tight grin. I looked at Brody and said in a flat voice, “Yeah, we’re practically engaged.” Next to me, Mari bit her lip as she tried not to laugh.
Brody nodded solemnly. “Good morning.” He held out his hand. I really hoped he wasn’t going to repeat that whole rigamarole because I wouldn’t be able to do it. “It’s great that you’re both Hunters. I hope I find the right girl someday.”
That was laying it on a bit thick.
“Nice to meet you.” It seemed the polite thing to say.
“You were there last night.” He held my hand longer than necessary, as if trying to remember something he couldn’t quite grasp. For the first time I wondered what his ability might be. Probing his mind for the answer brought up nothing, yet he’d picked me out of a crowded room last night, and it was more than a man simply noticing a woman.
“Yes, I was.” I noted the pistol at his side, probably a .45 by the size. Pushing closer to his thought stream, I could see nothing that told me he was lying, and no hint of the Emporium. There wasn’t any shiny black snake hiding in his thoughts, either.
Yet I was sure he’d singled out Patrick Mann last night, and Patrick was definitely working with the Emporium. So either he knew Patrick, somehow suspected Patrick was Unbounded, or he’d discovered some other way to hide his thoughts from me.
Stop, I told myself. While it paid to be open to new ideas, constantly second-guessing my ability would only get me into trouble.
Brody led us into a sitting room—or across it, rather. The room was large and connected to a library with floor-to-ceiling shelves on three walls. Unlike the other areas we’d seen, the library was m
ore inviting and appeared lived-in, if rather overheated by the roaring gas fireplace nestled between two windows on the only wall without books.
Davis Emerson was seated on a leather easy chair facing us, his brown cowboy hat still perched on his head, but he arose as we approached. Brody nodded at him subtly, and one side of Emerson’s mouth twitched in a brief acknowledgment.
“Welcome, friends,” Emerson said, sounding a bit loud like the cattle rancher he was. He had an average build and was even shorter close up. His pale, freckled face wasn’t remarkable, except for the blue eyes that glowed with intelligence. I pushed out my thoughts and saw that he was shielding and doing a better job at it than he had the night before.
“Thank you.” Keene shook hands and made the introductions, giving me a last name I’d never remember and calling Mari his friend Laurie, which at least rhymed.
Emerson nodded at us. “Please sit.” He waited until we dropped to the couch before retaking his chair. “So, did I hear Brody say you were at the fundraiser last night? That must mean you’re fans of Vice President Mann, as I am.”
“Well.” Keene glanced at me, and I remembered my demand to be the one who led the conversation.
“Actually,” I said, “after last night, we’re not sure.”
Emerson’s brows rose so high they disappeared under the brim of his hat. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you catch the news? There was a problem last night, and our sources say it involved Unbounded.”
“Emporium or Renegade?” Emerson asked.
I didn’t bother to hide my surprise. “You’re the first Hunter I’ve ever heard make a distinction. Unbounded are Unbounded, right?”
Emerson leaned back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach. “Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”
The Escape Page 9