by Jamie Wyman
Tall fences and the LVCC itself blocked off the west end of the police station. Along the south side, a pair of entrances to the two-level garage were blocked off to anything but emergency vehicles. I doubted anyone would mistake Flynn’s Matrix for a cop car. As he skirted the public face of the station, I piped up, “Don’t park here. Go down the street a bit.”
“Why?” Karma asked.
“We’re going to try to bust out two people from a building full of cops. Do you really want them to get a glimpse of Flynn’s ride?”
“One,” Flynn interjected. “We’re snagging Nate, and that’s it. Marius can get himself out.”
“Two,” I snarled. “Anyway, the three of us can hex cameras and doctor digital tapes to make ourselves disappear from record, but I can’t make someone unsee what’s in front of his eyes.”
Flynn and Karma exchanged a glance as if I wouldn’t notice. Did they really think I’d just leave Marius behind? Of course they did. They had already decided that Marius was guilty of murder. Why spring him?
Flynn listened to me, though, and drove past the police station, pulling into the parking lot of an apartment complex instead. He backed into a spot just off the street.
“This should suit,” he said. “If we run into any trouble we can squeal out of this lot quickly, bolt for the Strip, and get lost in the crowds.”
“There won’t be trouble if we leave the satyr here,” Karma muttered.
I tossed Karma a withering glare. “What if Nate won’t come?” I asked. “I didn’t bring bail money, assuming they’d allow it. Besides, the overgrown Boy Scout all but drove himself here. Do you think you can convince him to come with us?”
Karma nodded. “You don’t understand Nate, Cat. He can’t fight who he is.”
“You keep saying that,” I snapped, “but since no one is willing to tell me what that means, I get to grope in the dark.”
“Cat, don’t push,” Flynn warned.
“Fuck you, I’m going to push. A fucking god gave me a job to do. A girl is dead, and I’m looking for the person who killed her. It might not be the job I want, but it’s the one I have. You would think that her brother and friends would be forthcoming with anything that would help me do this, but instead I’ve gotten bitched at by a goddamn Muse, nearly killed by mages, and now I’m getting jerked around by my best friend and his fucktoy!” My voice, sharp enough to cut the glass, pierced the small space as the car went cold, deathly still.
Flynn’s face went pale, and I didn’t give two shits about how Karma felt about my tantrum. My friend’s jaw worked, and his throat twitched with anger.
“Now, look,” I growled, “we’re all going in there, and we will all come out. We will have two others with us when we get back in this car. It might be cramped, but we’ll get cozy. Do you understand?”
I met Flynn’s stare. Seconds? An hour? A battle of wills played out between us, sparking and crackling with tension. His shoulders sagged.
“Fine,” he spat. The look on his face, though, said that we would be having a long conversation later. I didn’t look forward to it.
I turned in my seat to face Karma. Rage pulsed under her skin, and the hairs on her arms stood at attention. The armrest squeaked and groaned in the grip of her talon-like fingernails. In her eyes I saw a prayer that I’d be struck by lightning.
Bring it.
Instead of picking more of a fight, though, I sighed and spoke softly. “I understand your reasons, but if you’re not going to tell me the things I need to know, you’re officially in my way. I will move with you, around you, or through you if I have to. You cooperate with me, and I will do the same.”
“I will not be in the same room with the thing that killed Polly,” she said through her teeth. “If he is in this car, I won’t be.”
“Okay, then,” I said, “there’s no problem. Marius didn’t kill her.” I shoved the door open and got out of the car, then adjusted Polly’s jacket over my shoulders and stalked toward the police station.
Chapter Sixteen
“Uno”
Padding along the sidewalk, Flynn’s words came in clipped whispers. “Two cameras on the nearest entrance to the garage. Two on the parking lot and three on the front door. All of them connect to a single closed-circuit feed within the building.”
“Christmas light setup?” I asked.
He shook his head, sweat beading on his pale forehead as he worked. “No. Taking out one won’t make the rest go dead.”
“Good. One monitor going dead is way less suspicious than all of them dropping at once.”
Flynn closed his eyes, the slightest amber glow burning through his skin as he reached for more power. “Metal detector at the front door. Computers and phones everywhere. Backup generators underground.”
“Any idea where we’ll find our guys?” I asked.
“What? You want him to give you a fucking map?” Karma spat. “Oh, I know. I’ll see if Google has a tutorial on how to break in.”
Flynn shuddered. His eyes fluttered and rolled beneath the lids as if he were speed-reading. “Interrogation rooms. First floor.”
Karma’s jaw dropped. “How?” I heard her breathe.
“He’s good,” I said quietly. “Damn good.”
Flynn ignored us, strain evident on his face. His left arm shot up, and he aimed a finger at the part of the station farthest from us. “Nate is at the northwest corner. Two officers with him right now.”
“And Marius?” I prompted.
“To the southeast. Down the hall and around a corner from the main entrance. He’s alone. Squirming.”
The orange glow drained from Flynn’s limbs. His breathing was labored, ragged, and his hair was slick with sweat. I said nothing as he came back and gathered himself. Karma put a hand on his shoulder, her fingertips glowing faintly purple. Her light seeped into Flynn; she was giving him a dose of her own power to boost him, and he drank it up.
“How?” she asked again. “How did you do that?”
“Camera feed,” he said. “Found the monitors I needed and followed the signals back to the cameras themselves.”
With a smile, I said, “I told you he’s good.”
Karma nodded reverentially. “Holy shit, baby.”
“Ladies, shall we?” Flynn gave me the shadow of an appreciative grin.
“We’re getting Nate first,” Karma insisted.
I rolled my eyes but otherwise ignored her. “Front door?”
Flynn shook his head. “Best way is through the garage. There are doors that open directly into the hall where Nate is being held. Minimal security there, too.”
I scanned to my left, eyeing the nearest garage entrance. Cameras. A keypad to get past the sliding glass doors. A couple of nooks that could’ve led to officer checkpoints.
“I don’t like that option,” I said. “We’ll be seen.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Karma said. She flashed a smile to Flynn. “I’ve got this one.”
She bounded off toward the garage. The sodium-vapor light clicked off just as she passed under it. The static around me changed, as if an instrument or two dropped out of an orchestra. Red lights winked off on the camera and keypad at just about the same time Karma pressed her hands onto the stucco wall adjacent to the entrance. With four steps—vertical steps!—she scaled the seven-foot wall and dropped over the other side.
Show off.
An instant later, I saw her running up a set of white metal stairs. She disappeared into the garage.
“Where is she?” Flynn asked.
The garage doors parted in answer, and the blue-haired technomage strutted out. Dusting off her hands, she smiled and sang. “Clear.”
Flynn and I shared a glance. “She’s good,” he said.
I nodded in reluctant agreement and broke into a run. When Flynn and I caught up with her and slid into the camera’s blind spot, Karma released her hold on the electricity flowing to the camera and keypad. The light popped back on.
We were in.
But that was the easy part.
“Get close,” Flynn said. “I’m going to cloak us again.”
“You have the juice for that?” I asked, astounded.
His amber eyes met mine. He said nothing, but the expression on his face showed both disappointment and resolute anger. That single look smacked me upside the head and asked how dare I question him in his element.
I buckled under that gaze and looked to my feet. I grabbed on to the hem of his shirt. “Got it.”
Karma crooked her fingers through one of his belt loops, and together, we walked forward. That gelatinous film dropped over us like a curtain, and I trusted Flynn that we were hidden from plain sight.
What few cars dotted this side of the lot were civilian vehicles, but when I peeked through a row of pillars, I eyed the black-and-whites: traditional sedans, a few SUVs, and a smattering of motorcycles. I shivered under the intimidation of so many cops in one place. If I got caught, I was fucked. I doubted Loki would show up with bail money.
I girded myself, swallowed down my bilious fear, and followed Flynn to the door that led into the station proper. Huddled together, the three of us skulked past the officer checkpoint there. I’d expected it to be bustling, phones ringing off the hook and the desk swarmed with uniformed cops processing suspects. Tonight must have been an off night—or none of these guys watched CSI.
One officer sat behind the desk, eyes flickering over a bank of monitors. She tossed her hair and sipped at a mug of coffee. We tiptoed around the corner beyond her notice and shuffled into the janitor’s closet. Inside, Flynn lifted the cloak and closed his eyes. A film of sweat gleamed on his brow.
He’s using too much power.
“Okay,” he said. “Nate is down this hall. Third room on the left. There are still two cops in there with him. We could wait here until they leave, then sneak in and grab him.”
“Where’s Marius?” I asked.
“He hasn’t moved.”
“Still alone?”
“Yeah.”
I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to get him. If I’m not back by the time you guys go grab Nate…”
Flynn snatched my shoulder. “You can’t go off by yourself.”
“You want to come with me?” He lowered his eyes. Karma stared coldly into the ether. “Didn’t think so.”
I started to open the door, but Flynn pressed it shut. “Dammit, Cat, I’m serious.”
“So am I. He didn’t do this, Flynn. That wasn’t him on the video we watched. Marius didn’t kill Polly, and I’m going to get him out of here. After that, he can run off and play his little satyr games. I don’t care. But we shouldn’t have left him to get caught in the first place.”
Flynn swallowed hard. Silence stretched, as taut and incendiary as a fuse. Finally he said, “He’s in interrogation room four. When you walk out of here, go left. Back the way we came in, okay? Head down that hall, hang another left, and go past the main entrance. When that hallway comes to a tee, take the left fork. Third door on the left. I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he added.
“Thank you,” I said.
“When we get Nate, we’ll head straight back to the car. You two meet us there.”
I held Flynn’s gaze for a moment longer, relishing his concern. If he was worried about me, that was a sign we’d be okay, right? Our friendship wouldn’t dissolve because of my tantrum in the parking lot. Maybe we’d be okay and everything would go back to the way it was a couple of days ago. Same as always.
Right?
I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice not to shake. I gulped, took a breath, and breezed out the door to go grab a satyr.
Chapter Seventeen
“Stockholm Syndrome”
I channeled every hard-assed cop I’d seen in movies and stalked through the station as if I owned the place. Like someone would eat his badge if he even tried to stop me. I kept steel in my face and hoped I wasn’t sweating bullets.
Flynn’s freakishly accurate directions helped with my act. Thanks to him, I knew every turn I should take without having to second-guess myself. Of course, he’d linked himself up with the whole damn building. That piqued my interest. I knew Flynn was good, knew he was more than just a run-of-the-mill technomage, but shit. Seeing that power in action? And so subtly? It raised more questions that I didn’t know I’d ever have the courage to ask.
As I passed the main entrance to the station, I whispered to the metal detector. It beeped its response as someone stepped through. Sure, that poor sap was unarmed—probably—but the moment of suspicion meant that no one noticed me lurking where I wasn’t supposed to be.
Down the left fork of the hall. Third door on the left.
Interrogation room four.
I stood by the door and palmed the wall, reaching out for the electrical lines. In my mind they formed veins, blood vessels for the streams of information pulsing along. I mentally pinched off the capillaries leading to and from the camera. Well, I hoped it was the camera. It would be a bitch if I shut off the lights by accident or set off some sort of alarm. But my will dammed the flow of energy exactly as I wanted it to. The camera stopped sending and receiving information, creating a backlog of electronic data, piling up behind the dam. As I let go of the wall, my hold wavered slightly. I tightened my focus, and pressure began to build behind my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to sustain this for long.
I turned the knob and stepped into the interrogation room. Marius sat at a plain table, his hands bound in front of him with plastic zip ties.
His moustache twitched. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I shut the door behind me but didn’t move to release him. I had too many questions, and of everyone in this damn station, the lying satyr was the one most likely to give me a straight answer. Pretty sick, but it’s true.
My sweaty palms slipped along the tabletop as I leaned in toward Marius’s face. “Why does Eris want the veil?” I asked without preamble.
Marius relaxed in his seat, laced his fingers, and actually began twiddling his fucking thumbs. “I see you’re not here to break me out. No, you just want something from me. How droll.” He eyed the door. “Where are your friends?”
“Breaking out Nate. I’m willing to do the same for you, but you need to give me something useful. Why does she want the veil, Marius?”
“Why does Eris do anything? To fuck with people.”
“Who is she fucking with this time?”
“Any number of beings, really. Perhaps she just wanted to say hello to you. Who knows? It’s not really my concern. I’ve been handed a task, and I obey. You should know all about that.”
My temples began to burn with the effort of restraining the power to the camera. White light flickered in my vision, and sweat stung my eyes. “What does the veil do?” I asked, gritting my teeth.
His shoulders bounced in a light shrug. “Who can say? Only the Muse herself knows for sure, and I didn’t have the chance to ask her.”
I raised an eyebrow and glared at him.
“I’m serious, Catherine. No one I’ve spoken with knows for certain what it does. Some say that it is a relic of pure power with no direction that can be tapped into by anyone the Muse deems worthy. One story says it amplifies strengths of mages while another believes that the wearer can create a direct line to the gods by singing their praises. One old sod told me the veil cloaks cosmic mysteries and is useless to anyone but Polyhymnia. Maybe it’s just a scarf. Who knows, and who the bloody hell cares? It’s all gibbering mythos. I’m not a scholar, darling, I’m a thief.”
I hardened my stare. “Did you kill her? Did you kill Polyhymnia?”
“You wouldn’t be here if you thought I did.” Marius narrowed his eyes. “Off topic…you have lovely, full lips.”
“You shouldn’t be staring at my lips.”
“Then they shouldn’t be turning blue. Why is that, by the way?”
I sagged, shoulders h
unching, buckling under the weight of the power I tried to hold. I felt lightheaded. As I choked the camera feed, I felt as if some larger hand was smothering me. The walls of the room began to twist in a hypnotizing spiral.
Focus, Cat.
“Grey,” I blurted out. “Who is Francis Grey?”
Marius grimaced. “Never heard that name in my life.”
The muffled voices in the hallway grew louder. Someone was talking on the other side of the door.
The satyr glanced up lazily. “Ah, I see my friends have come back to have another chat. Care to stay? You can vouch for my innocence, yes? Tell them we were having the shag of your life?”
“Shit!” I hissed. I ducked under the table and curled into a tight ball, my back against Marius’s shins. I wasn’t sure I could hide here for long. Maybe I could set off a fire alarm or something, and then they wouldn’t notice me. As I released control of the security camera, every muscle in my body relaxed. I felt spent, my head throbbing, pulsing with warmth and swirling vertigo.
On second thought, maybe I wouldn’t be able to make a diversion.
I tried to shake myself back to reality, back to keen awareness, but only managed to give myself more of a headache. I briefly felt outclassed by Karma and Flynn, chastised myself for not working harder. Get through this, I said to myself. Get through this and you can change that.
There would be time. Now, though, I needed to pull it together and keep quiet.
The door opened, and three pairs of shoes stepped in—work boots with dried mud on them and a pair of lime-green Chucks. The third pair of feet boasted Italian leather, polished to a high shine. A sharkskin-gray trouser hem brushed the tops of the loafers.
The trio stood, door open, speaking in irritated voices.
“My client will not answer any questions until I’ve had a chance to confer with him, Detective.”
I wrinkled my nose. I knew that voice…didn’t I?