“Don’t start with that shit.”
His face fell. “Goddamnit, do you know how hard it is to get laid in here?”
“Take it up with Alice.”
“Every companion she makes is so stupid,” Hiro said. “I need a woman of intelligence.”
“Clearly.”
Hiro fired the gun at me, little holographic bullets floating harmlessly through the air. After emptying the clip and glaring at me for a moment, he said, “Well, that was disappointing.”
“Life in a nutshell,” I said. “You had something to tell me.”
His expression immediately brightened. Hiro holstered his fake weapon and gave me the thumbs up. “Oh, this is good.”
“I’m waiting on pins and needles.”
“I never understood that expression. Why would someone—”
“Get to the fucking point.”
Hiro’s brow creased, and he looked hurt. But he gathered himself and said, “The MagiTekk district is currently on lockdown, courtesy of Malcolm’s threat.”
“Naturally.” It confirmed my suspicions. Things couldn’t just be hard. They had to be impossible. “So what’s the play?”
Hiro wagged his small fingers, and a holographic image appeared in front of the Howler Vine. It resembled the little black dress I had worn the night before—only shorter and tighter, if that was at all possible. The top was cut so low that it was a wonder the model’s breasts didn’t simply pop out of their own volition.
Calling her a model would have been kind. Because she looked more like a—
“Hooker,” Hiro said, with way too much gusto. “It seems our friend Jameson Denton has an insatiable thirst for high-end escorts.”
“Must be nice to be a cliché.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Hiro twirled his gun and then holstered it again. “I’m an original.”
“That’s one way to look at things.” I stared at the model’s sultry lips. “So we lure him out to meet a lady friend, and then I break up his little—”
“No, no,” Hiro said, shaking his little digital head. “You didn’t hear me. Lockdown.”
“He can’t leave?”
“Bingo.” Hiro winked and adjusted his slick hair. “Which means you’ll be the one playing dress-up. And going to him.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that I could reasonably pass for a call girl. “One problem.”
“Don’t have what it takes?”
I rolled my eyes. “Jameson knows me.”
“But you’ll look so good.” Hiro raised a lecherous eyebrow until I shot him a withering glare. “What’s the problem? You’ve seduced people before. It’s just pretend.”
“There’s gotta be something else.”
“Not anything that can get you inside now. Jameson has clearance for special visitors. But he can’t leave.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought of even pretending to sleep with Jameson. “And how are we going to get me through?”
“Nothing a little makeup won’t fix.”
“I think that’ll take more than makeup.”
“We’ll change your picture,” Hiro said. “A little brushwork here, some more there, and you’re a different person. Just the way he likes it. All you need to do is get inside. Then he can recognize you all he wants.”
I looked at the tight outfit. “I can’t bring my gun.”
“You still have that knife, right?” Hiro’s eyes gleamed, sordid little fantasies playing out in his digital mind. “Wear big boots.”
After biting my lip for a second, I said, “Fine.”
“Good. There should be some suitable clothes in Carrie’s closet.” When I shot Hiro a look, he shrugged. “The table is connected to her wardrobe inventory. I’m just saving you a shopping trip.”
There were eyes and ears everywhere in this new world. At least the ones watching me were friendly.
For now.
“How kind of you.”
“Maybe you could repay the favor. You know, keep the link active while you slip out of that shirt—”
I tapped the phone’s display, sending Hiro back to digital purgatory—or wherever an AI lived when they weren’t active. With trepidation, I returned to the messy bedroom and searched through Carrie’s closet. I found a dangerously short dress that made last night’s outfit look like a churchgoer’s. And some thigh-high boots that could hide a blade.
As I wriggled into the tight clothes, it occurred to me that my hesitation had little to do with being recognized.
When you think you’re bulletproof, nothing hurts you. But when you fly a little closer to the sun, and your wings melt, then doubt burrows into the back of your mind. And just knowing that someone could resist my charms—even for a good reason—was enough to make me doubt everything. I’d wandered for so long that I didn’t remember what it felt like for the edges of my heart to melt.
And now my confidence was just a little bit injured.
I checked the dress in the shattered mirror. It accentuated all the right curves in all the right places. A quick brush-up in the bathroom and I was ready to impress Jameson Denton.
And if I wasn’t?
Well, I’d find out soon enough.
7
Hour 5
I dropped off my other clothes—and belongings, including the trusty shotgun—at Kendrick’s Midtown bar, since I had nowhere else to stash them. My appearance earned claps and catcalls from the regulars, so I must’ve been doing something right.
Well, at least one little black dress was getting compliments.
Tough shit for Roark that he was missing out.
Confidence mostly restored, I headed for Jameson’s apartment. Alice had set my “appointment” with the bounty hunter turned MagiTekk executive for two in the afternoon. The tight cotton clung to my legs like cellophane as I walked through the gauntlet of massive skyscrapers. I tried to adopt a walk that balanced comfort and sex appeal, but with the knife clinging to a sheath within the long boots, that was pretty much a pipe dream.
Security intensified as I approached the MagiTekk district, a mixture of FBI and MagiTekk personnel lingering on the streets. Maybe even what looked like military—but that could’ve just been MagiTekk’s black ops division. A few of them glanced my way, but most of them were tied up by the current crisis.
I didn’t take it personally. The less they noticed me, the better.
I guess one could’ve faulted me for not taking care of Jameson earlier in the day. That would have made it easier to get through. And he had been the mastermind of the setup—if there was such a thing—leading the FBI charge that had pinned Pearl and me inside the house.
After he’d shot her right in front of me, I’d almost killed him right there with my bare hands. I did manage to break his sternum before being subdued by the police. For the past twenty-two years, I’d dreamed of revenge.
Until I’d escaped. That he was still living hadn’t bothered me that much over the past three weeks. But I guess baser urges were hard to suppress. And there was Harcourt’s simple directive—finish the list—egging me on. So here I was, approaching the security checkpoint set up on the road before the cluster of towering skyscrapers at 624 MagiTekk Circle.
My boots clicked against the polished concrete as I made a forced attempt for them to be audible. I had to get in character. The sound was part of the show.
Plastering a fake smile wide across my lips, I presented my phone to the security guard. “I’m seeing Mr. Denton.”
“Name?”
“It’s on the display, handsome.”
The guy glanced at the phone. I held my breath slightly. Would the fake persona Alice had crafted for me hold up to scrutiny? Would he probe me with questions, make sure I was legit?
But to my minor disappointment, he said, “Okay, Miss Elektra. You have one hour.”
“I’ll only need a quarter of that.” I stroked his hand as I took the device back.
“Yeah, yeah.” The
guard waved me through the metal detector. I hesitated. The blade would definitely set that off, and my plans would be scuttled before anything even began. “Come on, go through.”
“I have piercings,” I said, thinking fast.
“Take ’em out and go through.” The guy barely even glanced at me.
“You don’t understand.” I affected a whispery, conspiratorial tone and leaned in close to the guard. “They’re…down there.”
This finally got his attention. His bushy eyebrows raised in unison and he looked me over from head to toe, as if assessing my threat level. I gave him a demure smile and he seemed satisfied that I wasn’t an assassin.
“Christ help me,” he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced around the plaza, where security personnel mingled and rushed about. Satisfied that no one was paying close attention, he jerked his head past the barricade. “Just go around the damn thing.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, I’m very discreet.” I tramped around the metal detector and headed for Jameson’s building, giving him a little wave of gratitude.
I glanced up at the gleaming façade, the top of the structure touching the overcast sky so far up that I couldn’t see its apex. This part of town was nice enough that the buildings had green space between them. No doubt some MagiTekk bean counter regretted that paltry dip in company revenue every time he ran his spreadsheets.
The gray sunlight cast an ominous pallor upon this too-green grass as I approached 624 MagiTekk Circle. The glass formed a tall archway, with a pair of recessed, clear doors tucked inside. I trotted beneath the overhang and planted myself in front of the entrance.
The doors didn’t open.
I rapped loudly on the double doors, tapping my boot impatiently. A weary guard rose from behind a gold-gilded desk probably worth more than all the homes in Old Phoenix combined. His cagey movements and ramrod posture suggested he was ex-military.
He approached the entrance, but made no indication that he wanted to let me inside the building.
“I’m here to see Jameson Denton.” I tried to act cheery.
“ID, please.”
“I already gave the other guy ID.”
“That was just to get into the complex.” He nodded toward the other skyscrapers nearby, which were arranged in a circle around the grassy plaza. Points for the name being on the nose. “ID.”
I held up my phone, and he looked at my picture with disinterest. “That shit can be hacked.”
“Do I look like a hacker?”
“I need a real ID with a chip. Or I can scan your neural. Prove you ain’t lying. Prove you ain’t a freak.”
“Discretion is critical to my business.” I winked at him and parted my lips suggestively. “You understand.”
“And security is mine.” He crossed his arms, his stare blank. “ID.”
“These don’t count?” I asked, giving my boobs a little shake and letting out a small giggle.
He looked less than impressed, his baggy eyes not blinking. That was 0-for-2 on the seduction front. Three, if I counted last night’s fiasco. A girl’s feelings could start to get irreparably damaged with a batting average like that.
“I’m not letting you inside without actual ID.” He gave me a dismissive wave. “We’re on lockdown.”
I kicked the glass, but the designers must have anticipated spurned lovers—or worse. Where I had expected a rippling crack, I instead was greeted by a searing pain in my foot.
The doors sustained no damage.
“Goddamnit!” I hopped up and down to distract myself from the strong shock.
“Hooker-proof,” the guard said with a shrug.
“Escort.” I put my middle finger up near the glass, careful not to touch it this time. “Listen, buddy. You’re gonna let me in.”
“I don’t think so, lady. Men like Jameson don’t have the best judgment. That’s why they put me down here. Screen out trash like you.”
I was seeing red. Maybe it was the prospect of being this close to Jameson Denton, only to be stymied by some half-conscious shell of a soldier. Or it could’ve just been the past three weeks crashing down around me.
In any event, stealth was out the window. I reached into my long boot—which did rate an amused smile from my adversary—and pulled out the lightning blade. With a flick of the finger, a blue glow splashed across the glass.
“I’m gonna wait until you’re off work tonight,” I said. “Hide in that fucking tree over there if I have to. Whatever it takes. Then the last thing you’re gonna see is this in your eye.”
Feeling and emotion flooded into the man’s dead eyes, but it wasn’t fear. Instead, much to my surprise, he said, “You knew Sam Roark?”
Caught off guard, I took a step back, searching for something to say. I came up with, “His brother gave me this knife.”
“Goddamn, Colton must be fully grown, now.” The guard even smiled. “Sam and I served together. First supernatural task force.”
“This post seems like a downgrade.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, rubbing the two-day shadow on his chin. “Those were the days. Makin’ a difference. Killing things that were causing actual problems, instead of whatever gestapo bullshit they’re running now.”
“What happened?”
“Whole unit got disbanded after that gray-haired psycho killed Sam.” He paused, wincing at the memory. I knew the gray-haired psycho he was referring to was Solomon Marshall. “People upstairs claimed we’d become ineffective. Load of horseshit. They just wanted to do their own thing.”
“Which was?”
“You’re seeing it, lady.” The ex-soldier pointed outside, beyond the archway. “We got the makings of a corporate state, run by a bunch of empty suits.”
“You can stick it to those suits.” I tossed the blade in the air and caught it by the hilt to demonstrate I knew my way around a weapon. “Or, rather, I’ll stick it to one of them.”
“This guy Denton responsible for Sam?”
“In a way,” I said, not against lying to advance my cause. Was it still a white lie when you’d be killing a bad person? Gray lie, maybe.
I shifted uncomfortably in the tight dress, trying to read the situation. But the life in this guy’s eyes had gone out again. He’d lived for the hunt and his unit. Once that purpose had been snatched away from him, his identity had been set adrift in a world that didn’t appreciate his skills.
That made him hard to read.
The guard punched a button by the wall, and the doors glided open effortlessly.
Before I stepped inside, he said, “I know you’re lyin’ to me.”
I stared at him, feeling guilty. “Then why let me in at all?”
“One way another, all those suits are responsible for what happened to Sammy,” the guard said, reassuming his post behind the gold-gilded desk as I walked across the lobby. “But I figure, if you’re crazy enough to come in here while shit’s hittin’ the fan, you’re crazy enough to cause these assholes real problems. And he would’ve appreciated that.”
I nodded, leaving the walking dead behind as I headed toward the glittering row of brass elevators.
It was time to cause some real problems.
8
Maybe, after two decades of bad luck, fate was smiling on me.
A girl could dream.
The expansive elevator opened its cavernous jaws onto the 54th floor. Instead of a hallway of doors—little boxes packed as closely together as possible—I was greeted with a majestic view of the courtyard below. The seamless floor-to-ceiling glass glowed.
A small robot, about knee-high, trundled up to me, extending a beverage with a claw.
Jameson Denton’s dirty work had paid off in style.
I brushed off the bottled water and cocked my head at the little chrome automaton. “Jameson Denton?”
I had no idea if it would understand, but its treads whirred around and off it went down the hal
l. Now that was service. It led me to an apartment with a silver-knobbed door and a biometric reader. Then, the robot trundled off to offer its services elsewhere.
After slipping the blade out of the boot, I hastily adjusted my hair. Then my head away from the door, so that Jameson wouldn’t be able to see my face, and knocked loudly. My hand was sweaty. I could feel the electricity making the dress’s stray threads stand on end.
“It’s open.” My hair stood on end at the sound of Jameson’s voice. Even twenty-two years later, I’d recognize it anywhere. Normal in every way, but it grated across my soul. I’d waited so long for this moment. Would it be everything I imagined?
Gripping the knife tighter, I said in my sweetest voice, “It’s better if you come yourself.”
A sharp click echoed through the hall as the door swung open by itself. I was greeted by a majestic view, this one facing out across the endless desert. If you forgot where you were, you could almost believe that this apartment was a little oasis, on an island all by itself.
I stepped inside the threshold.
“Where are you, baby?” I asked, my voice half-a-pitch higher than normal. “Don’t you want to unwrap your present?”
“Of course I do.” Jameson’s voice came from the bedroom. Guess he didn’t waste time. I walked into the living room, past the Italian leather couches and a massive screen that looked like it was part of the wall itself.
“So, like, what do you do?” I said, staring into the infinite desert, already knowing the answer.
A familiar sound snaked its way from the bedroom as Jameson replied, “Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that. Ruby.”
So much for disguises. He must’ve seen me in the hall. There were eyes everywhere, after all.
I dove over the loveseat as a barrage of automatic gunfire tore through the room. Tufts of fabric and shredded leather puffed into the air as I huddled behind the furniture, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.
A lull came, and I slid out to the right, staying low. His bare leg was sticking out from the bedroom.
I flicked the glowing knife at his ankle and he screamed. The rifle clattered to the hardwood. Scrambling forward—which wasn’t easy in the dress—I managed to reach the gun before he could recover.
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