Senator Winchester smiled, though his cheeks reddened. “We do what we must for our children. Isn’t that right? Wonderful thing you did taking that boy in. It must be rough on him what with your schedule. One astral sensitive for the entire west coast? You’re probably often working late, leaving him with friends or at the dorm. It would be quite a shame if some judge got it in their head he’d be better off in a more stable environment.”
She glared at his widening grin, a dagger wrapped in silk. “If you go near him…”
“You’ll what?” His bushy brown/grey eyebrows lifted. “Stop caring about laws? I see you finally understand. Now please, do what the taxpayers are paying you to do. Deal with that spirit before someone dies.”
She dug her fingernails into the seat. “It wasn’t necessary. You didn’t have to have that man killed. You have the resources… why didn’t you have her lungs regrown?”
“It’s complicated. An expense of that size would be noticed.” Irritation bled from his smile. “You have a job to do, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”
The call dropped.
Kirsten glared at the holo-emitter, trying to project anger into the fingertip-sized silver dome. “Tell me he can’t do that.”
Dorian studied his lap in silence.
She glanced over at him.
“I couldn’t say that without lying to you. Do I think he will do it? Most likely not. Too much work, and he’s confident you’ll never prove he had anything to do with Prentice’s murder.”
She kept staring at him while powering up the patrol craft’s drive system. “I’ll prove it all right.”
“If he thought you had any chance of being a threat, he wouldn’t have remained so calm.” Dorian looked at her. “And if he does think you’re getting too close, I’m sure he’ll do anything he can to survive.”
She growled at the console and pulled the patrol craft into the air. “So you’re saying I should let him get away with killing someone?”
“It’s really not your case to worry about. Living man pays someone to kill living man, none of them psionic. You could file your report with Eze and let him make the call about escalating it. Stick to the paranormal.”
“But…”
Dorian offered a wan smile. “Kirsten, you’re far too honest to be in the NPF.”
“Now you’re making it sound like the whole thing is corrupt.” She slammed the accelerator forward, mashing her body into the cushions.
“No, but ‘normal’ people bend before they break. Try to find a middle ground with Charles. Would you give Evan up to send Charles to the silver light? What if you make a run on Winchester and fail?”
“Oh, I really want to hop in the sim with Gabriel right now. I need to beat the shit out of someone and not feel bad about it later. Look, maybe I can get him. I won’t make a damn move unless I know for sure it’s flawless.”
“There is one other thing you’re forgetting.” Dorian sucked at his teeth. “Men that high up on the losing end of a legal issue don’t go to jail. They go to ‘Miami.’”
Anger fell away to dread. “Division 9.”
Dorian made a pistol gesture with his hand. “The appeals process is a lot more difficult.”
Her stomach churned. Succeed in her investigation, a man dies. Dawdle, Seraphina maybe dies. Push and fail, she may lose Evan. Do nothing, any of the innocent people who received organs could die… To stop it, she’d either have to talk an unreasonable ghost into accepting an unreasonable compromise, or murder Charles Prentice for a second time.
Kirsten let her head thud back against the seat and stared at the black fabric overhead. What am I supposed to do?
irsten fumed to herself, the endless parade of what-ifs driving her near to madness. She faced a figurative circular firing squad where someone, or everyone, would die in even the best circumstance. She drove in literal circles for a while, trying to calm down, to find an out, a way to defuse the problem. Once she de-stressed enough to think, she picked a destination and headed for Laney Prentice’s apartment. The temptation to squirm out from under the issue left a lead stone in her gut. He got to me… That bastard’s making me worry about Evan. Maybe Dorian’s right… it isn’t my job to take down a senator… but, who would I be if I walked away?
She swerved through the access door leading to the parking area at the middle of the residence tower fast enough that Dorian emitted odd noises. He half melted into the seat, bulging eyes glaring at her.
“Sorry.” She set the patrol craft down hard in a cloud of cryonic mist and stormed to the elevator enclosure at the center of the floor.
Dorian followed in silence. Kirsten waited for him to walk in before hitting the spot on the holo-panel for the 99th floor. Neither spoke on the ride up. Grey carpeted hallways muted the thuds of her boots. Repeating patterns of black and red diamonds made her dizzy, so she stared at the bland white walls until reaching Laney’s door.
The woman answered the buzzer looking as though she hadn’t slept since the last time Kirsten visited. A huge teal-green smock, smudged with hand-shaped smears of potting soil, covered her to the knees. “Hi.”
Charles ran into view, near the sofa in the living room. He had eyeballs and a non-cavernous torso, though his khaki pants remained blood-spattered. “Kirsten…”
“Come in.” Laney offered an exhausted eyes-mostly-closed smile, and backed away.
Kirsten tried not to step on the woman’s bare toes and shifted sideways to scoot past her before approaching Charles. “I’ve run into a little problem.”
“Problem?” Charles folded his arms. His eyes vanished and returned. “That’s not what I need to hear.”
“The man who ordered you dead is a UCF senator. In order for me to have any chance at making him answer for what he did to you, I’d need a mountain of non-paranormal evidence that no one could possibly question any aspect of.”
“So you’re saying this is going to take a long time.” Charles let his arms drop and glided over to a bookshelf near the kitchen, where he stared at his urn. “How long?”
She exhaled. “I’m saying I might not be able to make enough of a case to convince the group who deals with crimes of that level to act. They don’t do trials. If Division 9 becomes convinced that someone with too much power to convict at Inquest is compromised, corrupt, or guilty of crimes… they kill them.”
“I’m cool with that. Dead is what he deserves.” He leaned closer to the silver brick, as if trying to see a reflection in it.
Laney mumbled something, tripping over her feet on the way to the kitchen. She stubbed her toe on the doorjamb, but didn’t react until four seconds later. “Shit. Ow. Uhh, you want coffee or something?”
Kirsten attempted a smile. “I’d feel guilty taking your coffee when bringing bad news, but sure.” She walked closer to Charles. “He’s threatened my son. I’m not saying I’m going to give up because of that, but I can’t make a move until I’ve got everything perfect. I may not ever be able to get everything perfect.”
“What am I supposed to do then? Follow this urge? Take back what’s mine? There’s a liver out there that belongs to me. Eyes… oh, and a heart too. Your partner was quite helpful teaching me how to do things. I should be able to rip it in half next time.”
She leaned forward, eyebrows flat. “Charles… I want to help you, but if you kill someone, you’re going to force me to do exactly what that pompous bastard wants.”
“That’ll make it easier on you.” He glared at the wall.
“Until she has to explain it to Laney.” Dorian approached him on the other side, a corralling position likely a result of old training. “I hate to break it to you, Chuck, but sometimes the big dogs shit on the little dogs, and the only thing the little dog can do is growl and shake it off.”
Charles’s horrific wounds reappeared; he held his fists up to his forehead, gasping noises as likely to precede sobbing as rage-filled screams.
Kirsten infused herself with energy, melding her astral a
nd physical selves. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. I’m not giving up. I… just need more proof that can stand up to a legal review.”
He pounded a fist on the shelf, making one holodisk case fall over with a soft plop. Luminous off-white haze filled in the vacuous hole in his torso, and a hint of eyeballs reappeared. “What about the three miserable fucks that killed me? They’re not senators.”
“I haven’t been able to find anything based on your description.” Kirsten grumbled. “My terminal is still running a search.”
Laney padded in, offering Kirsten a powder-blue cup. The coffee smelled like it came out of a reassembler, but she didn’t flinch.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You’re tryin’ to help Charlie.” Laney smiled, swayed to the side, and caught her balance.
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Uhh, two days ago.” Laney made it to the couch before her legs quit. “Been trying to talk to Charlie at night.”
“You may want to consider moving on for her sake.” Dorian glanced at the delirious woman. “She’s already becoming obsessive.”
“Leave my sister out of this.” Charles pointed at him. “We’ve always been close. Laney’s not a social person. She can’t deal with people. Likes plants and cats. Her whole life I’ve been there to protect her, and I… can’t handle not being able to.”
“It’s not impossible.” Dorian smiled.
“Yeah.” Kirsten smiled. “He’s saved my ass a few times.”
“Only because she gets reckless when she’s emotional.” Dorian winked.
She gazed at the ceiling. “If those men were ghosts, they’d be easier to find.” Kirsten blinked. “Charles… can you take me to the place where you were killed? I know it’s painful, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Good idea.” Dorian grasped his chin, staring into the distance. “Did they leave your body at the same place they attacked you?”
“Couple alleys over.” Charles grumbled.
Kirsten sipped at her coffee. “I bet Div 2 missed the scene entirely.”
“Of course. Body in a grey zone, they probably walked in a circle, took two image caps, and got the hell out of there.” Dorian scratched the back of his head. “Can’t say I blame them much.”
“If you can take me to the exact spot you died, we might be able to get something concrete.” Kirsten gulped down the remaining half mug.”
Charles forced his appearance back to whole. “Fine. So how’s it work?”
“It’s quite complicated.” Dorian grinned. “We ride in the car while she drives.”
“Let’s go then.” Charles headed for the door.
“Hang on. I need to do something first.” Kirsten set the mug on the table near the couch and leaned over the barely-awake woman.
“Mmm?” Laney’s head lolled around. “What?”
Kirsten waited for her to open her eyes. “Go to bed. And when you get there, sleep.”
Laney slithered from the sofa cushions to the floor and crawled off down the hall.
“Okay. Now we can go.” Kirsten shrugged an apology to Charles. “Try to make sure she takes care of herself.”
“Yeah…” Charles stared guilt into the floor. “She’s not listening, all wound up about talking to ghosts.”
Dorian smiled. “She’ll get used to it eventually.”
Kirsten left the apartment, two ghosts following her to the elevator. She hit the button for the 52nd where she’d parked and lights in the four corners pulsed from floor to ceiling, creating bands of illumination around the walls that kept pace with their descent.
“I’ll show you something else once we’re done at the spot,” said Dorian. “Your ashes are your focus. That’s the usual result―remains. It’s possible for us to move rapidly back to wherever they are.”
Charles’s voice took on an odd echo. “I figured that one out already. It’s how I got to that woman near the Moon.” He shivered. “I can pull myself to any of those people who have my pieces inside them, but that was a little scary.”
Tell that to Jonah. “I was wondering how you got up there.” Kirsten tapped her foot. The damn elevator seemed to get slower every time she rode it.
“There’s some belief that spirits are also bound to the Earth.” Dorian tilted his hand up in a half-hearted shrug. “Sucks to die on Mars if that’s true.”
“Maybe it’s a planetary thing?” asked Kirsten.
“It felt like I was losing energy… being swallowed by nothing.” Charles shot a guilty look at the floor. “That girl would’ve been safe up there. I don’t think I would’ve bothered going back.”
The doors opened.
“It’s not her fault.” Kirsten jogged to the patrol craft. “The only person who knew you died to obtain those organs didn’t even get one.”
“The senator.” Charles scowled. “A guy you can’t touch.”
“Oh. I’m going to touch him.” She yanked the door open and got in. “I just don’t know how yet.”
Dorian blurred to his spot beside her. “In all likelihood, it’ll be Division 9 ‘touching’ him with a small piece of high-velocity metal… assuming you can build a case.”
She clenched the control sticks. “I should probably state that there’s a chance taking the senator out isn’t going to be possible. Can you settle for us nailing the men who carried out the actual killing?”
Charles let off a radiant burst of anger from the back seat, though with only two months’ tenure as a spirit, it had little effect on Kirsten aside from announcing his mood. “Sounds like you’re giving up already.”
“She’s beginning to understand things don’t always work out clean between good and evil… if you believe in such concepts.” Dorian gestured at the Navcon. “Sector 6796 is coming up.”
“I’m saying I don’t…” want to lose my son. “…know what’s going to happen, and as you so keenly pointed out earlier, letting emotion take over isn’t going to help.” She looked at Charles. “I know you’re angry. I would be too… but if I can’t get him, please don’t put me in a position to have to choose between you and someone who had nothing to do with this.”
Charles’s expression hardened.
Kirsten drove in low, twenty feet off the road. “Where?”
“That way.” Charles pointed forward and left.
She extended the ground wheels, but kept flying at about thirty MPH. Charles gestured at a seedy-looking bar on the corner. A handful of young twentysomethings in mismatched clothing accented with strips of colored LED loitered out front, drinking and sucking on inhalant units. One guy with two dark metal legs whirled about in some manner of street dance that could’ve passed for an exotic martial art.
“Another block down, by that gun shop.” Charles indicated a fortress-like building on the next corner with armored rolling doors over the windows. Bright neon green paint outlined an area on the sidewalk with diagonal stripes. Two metal spheres embedded in the wall on either side of the door flicked with tiny lights, gun turrets poised to fire on anything entering the boundary.
Kirsten gawked.
“If they’re up to code, they won’t fire on anyone unless the security system detects damage to the door or a network infiltration,” said Dorian.
She landed at the mouth of an alley packed with giant plastiboard cartons that glowed in the glare of the patrol craft’s headlights. Discarded cups and food boxes littered a narrow channel among them, leading deeper into the shadows. Every breath tasted like month-old hamburger and stale beer. Dirty plastisteel walls radiated an inexplicable sense of dread, as though she stood before the gates of the Abyss. Despite it being the middle of the day, the alley beyond the reach of the patrol craft’s headlights remained dark. Her grip on the control sticks tightened, and for a few seconds she debated changing her mind and going somewhere else. For once, Kirsten thought she’d found a place that would scare her at night.
“There’s a bad energy he
re. I can feel it from inside the car.” Against her instinct, she shut down the patrol craft and pushed the door up.
Charles headed for the alley. Kirsten followed, stepping with care among the various boxes, cartons, and wads of plastic wrap. Whispers teased at the back of her mind, chattering shades speaking too fast to decipher. Here and there, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a moving shadow, but nothing showed itself. She clenched and released her right hand, preparing herself to call the lash as a reaction to something bursting out from the walls.
Evidence related to Charles’s murder, traps left over from gang warfare, or a sleeping vagrant might lurk under anything. The stink grew worse with each step deeper into the alley, the air thickening with the essence of human waste. A warm, musty breeze rustled the trash, tossing her hair about and making her cover her mouth to keep from tasting whatever funk had collected on the ground. Charles rushed on ahead and stopped near a small, square yard in the hollow of a low-income housing tower. Solid plastisteel walls surrounded it on three sides and a chain-link fence on the last. The heavy presence of dark energy worsened, though she couldn’t tell if a mere Harbinger lurked in the area, or something darker.
Dorian fidgeted. “One of them has been here recently.”
“Let’s hope.” Kirsten edged up to the gate in the fence. “I wonder how many people died here?”
“Hey.” Dorian pointed up and left. “Citycam.” He spun in place. “Another one there.”
“What are the odds they work?” Kirsten held up her left arm. “Ops. I need a crime scene unit to my current location.”
The face of a Hispanic boy, maybe fifteen and in a Division 0 cadet’s uniform, appeared. “Copy, Lieutenant.”
A quieter voice murmured, its owner not rendered by the hologram. “Panel 2, hit the locator there and drag it to the dispatch request board.”
She’d have smiled if not for being on edge from the pervasive doom in the air. “I really don’t like it here.”
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