Arrested in Peace (The Complex Book Series)

by Jason Halstead

  "It would be your headboard, not mine."

  Val realized her door was open and slammed it shut. She winced, not having meant to push it so hard, but never took her eyes off of him. "You seriously can't control it? What the hell good is a power you can't control? How do you keep from being dragged off your feet and raped wherever you go?"

  He chuckled. "It only affects the person I'm focused on."

  "And now you're focused on me?"

  "You're the only person here," he said.

  "Lovely."

  "It wouldn't matter though, since I'm bound to you by contact now."

  Val let out a moan and shook her head. "Why me?"

  "Because you saved my life."

  "I know that!" she snapped. "Don't make me regret it."

  "You don't have to regret it," he offered. "I'm still weak, but I'm well enough that I could help you take your mind off...things."

  "Oh. My. God! Stop that right now! Back up too, over there."

  "I didn't get any closer to you."

  "The hell you didn't," she snapped even though she knew he hadn't moved since he'd stepped past her into her apartment. She pointed at her small den. "Go. In there. Go now. I'll be there in a minute. And keep your clothes on."

  "I didn't offer to take them off."

  "Good!"

  Dag'on tilted his head and gave her a curious look before he turned and walked to the den. She watched him go and then turned away. "Fuck me," she whispered. "This is what they warned us about. I never believed..."

  She jerked her head up and looked around her apartment. She needed a distraction. Something to keep from remembering how he'd looked naked and imagining how that compared to now, a day and half later with a lot of rehydration. He'd been swollen before, where it mattered. How would he look now? Or feel?

  "Stop it!" she hissed, admonishing herself. "I am not the kind of girl that needs a living sex-toy!"

  "Everything okay out there?"

  Val cringed. "Yeah, I'm just, uh, thinking about mutilating my lady parts," she said, muttering the last part.

  "What's that?"

  "Nothing," she snapped. "Just... hang on."

  "Okay."

  Val glanced at her cooler and stepped up to it. She opened it and shoved her head in to the cool air. the sweat cooled on her skin and helped her think. This was impossible. She couldn't function if she was around this guy for any length of time. Her nanobots would short out or rust or something unless she switched to real pants, and then she'd end up needing to wash them constantly. This was impossible.

  She took in a deep breath and then another. She had to deal with this head on. She was a grown woman, she could handle herself. Hell, she was more than that, she'd been a member of an elite combat team and survived things that would kill most people in their sleep if they had a nightmare about them.

  Armed with false bravado, she shut the cooler door and turned around. She walked into the den and did her best to ignore the fresh assault on her senses his pheromones caused.

  He turned from the audio / visual equipment she had against the wall to face her. "I can come back," he offered. "As long as you promise not to die while I'm away."

  "Come back?" she croaked. She winced and cleared her throat. "Why would you do that?"

  "Give you some time to take the edge off, if you don't want me to help with it," he explained. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so self-deprived before. How long has it been?"

  "A long time," she admitted. She shuddered and shook her head. "I'm fine. I can handle this."

  He smirked. "I'm sorry to do this to you, especially since I owe you my life. If you insist on self-denial, then at least consider masturbation. That will help keep you sane when you're around me."

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a silent gasp. "Sure, let me just kick back and go three fingers deep right here in front of you."

  He smiled. "I doubt you could manage that. How long has it been?"

  Val blushed. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how good one finger can feel... And no! I am not going to do that."

  "Very well, what can I do for you then?"

  "Nothing. I don't need anything."

  "Look, I understand how strange this must seem. I'm a respected and elite licensed escort with an established and exclusive clientele, definitely not something you're accustomed to. Unfortunately, I have to put that on hold indefinitely until we sort this matter out."

  Valerie stared at him, her shock at his arrogance overriding the raging hormones that threatened to turn her legs to jelly. "Fuck you," she finally managed.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. I'm sorry I'm not some high class bitch that can afford a few thousand an hour to bask in your presence. Guess what, bub, I work for a living. I work my ass off and I deal with the kind of shit that keeps your rich bitches safe and secure. The reason I've got nothing for you is because you can't handle the kind of shit I run into. You need to save my life? Ha! Good luck, you can't even save your own."

  Dag'on's lips pressed together after she berated him. He stared at her for a long moment and his tanned cheeks turned darker. He nodded. "So it's true then, what they say about you?"

  Valerie hesitated, taken aback by his question. "What? What who says about me?"

  "There are rumors about you. They say you fought in the war and killed many of the metas. So many that some believe you went beyond your orders and the call of duty, even committing war crimes. That your hatred for metahumans lives on today."

  "Is that what they say?" Valerie asked. "That's almost funny."

  "Is it true? Do you hate us?"

  "Would I have saved you if I did? I knew what you were, I saw your eyes and the power lines, although they were so faint I almost missed them."

  "So it's not true."

  She shrugged. "At one time, maybe, but that was then. This is now. I'm just trying to do a job and make a living, same as anyone else. If I can take down a few of the monsters that hurt... defenseless people, then all the better."

  "Not all metahumans are monsters."

  "Monsters come in different shapes and sizes," she said. "Some even use weapons meant to seduce instead of destroy. The end result is still a broken person."

  Dag'on lowered his head. "Your hatred runs deep."

  "I don't—"

  "Whatever happened to you, I am sorry for it."

  Val bit her lip and looked away from him for a moment. She took in a deep breath without being fazed by his scent. "Everyone has a choice, human or meta," she said. "When somebody makes the wrong one they call me."

  He bowed his head again. "May I sit?"

  Val gestured with her hand. He sat on the loveseat and spread his legs to get comfortable. He waited until Val rolled her eyes and sat in the chair that faced the short couch.

  "Then let's start. What, exactly, is a mushroom bullet?"

  Chapter 4

  "I've heard of a mushroom head before, but it had nothing to do with a bullet," Dag'on said.

  Val smiled. "They're vicious. The sides expand and leave tiny pieces that cut through tissue at an angle away from the bullet while it retains its point and moves ahead. Maximum tissue damage and bleeding, worse than the hollow point they're based on."

  "Hollow points I've heard of."

  She nodded. "Anybody can buy those. Well, anybody with a firearms license. Mushroom bullets are security restricted."

  He shook his head. "I had no idea. With technology like that, how is it the metahumans were able to force a truce?"

  "Magic," Val said with the familiar bitter taste in her mouth. "I can kill someone with one bullet, but at the same time they can use magic to kill ten in an explosion. And the bullets only work when they can penetrate. There are metas out there with hides as strong as tank armor."

  He nodded. "Fair enough. My own skin is quite durable, but I wouldn't want to test it against you."

  Valerie nodded. "Wise choice, I always get my bounty."

  "So I
've heard," he said.

  "What? Is there some kind of underground out there warning metas about me?"

  "More or less, yes," he said. "You've made a lot of enemies. I expect that means it won't take me long to fulfill my contract."

  Val scowled. "All of my enemies should be in prison."

  "You've scared a lot of people. Fear does funny things to people."

  "Funny, why hasn't anyone ever come after me?"

  "Break into a housing dome? Good luck!"

  "As luxurious as my apartment is, I don't spend all my time in here."

  "Nobody's sure what you look like, they say you're a master of disguise."

  Valerie grunted. She made a habit of always looking different when she went out. It was a habit she'd gotten into. Hair or facial changes, different clothing styles, even some modifications to how she walked to make her look shorter or disabled. "I'm surprised," she admitted. "You're right, I do change my appearance all the time, but I would think a meta with magic could track me better."

  He shrugged. "Maybe some of them could. I don't know. I don't travel in those circles."

  Valerie snorted, but kept her crude comment to herself about the circles he did travel in.

  "So, what would you like me to do while we're together?"

  She forced her attention back to the root of the problem. "I don't need you hanging around me," she said. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

  "I'm sure you are, but I'm stuck with you. I suppose I'm appreciative too, after all I would be dead otherwise. Still, I'd rather not be here either, no offense."

  "None taken," she scoffed. "Sorry if I'm not up to your usual standards for a companion."

  He leaned forward and fixed his dark eyes on her, "Oh, don't worry about that at all. You're quite lovely, I assure you. Even in your casual attire you are a very attractive woman. Far better than many of my clientele."

  Valerie felt her heart skip a beat. It was getting warm in her apartment again, threatening to make fresh sweat break out on her face. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she said, trying to give herself a moment to recover.

  He smiled and leaned back before admitting. "I say a lot of things. Whatever they need to hear. I have a touch of empathy, you see. I know what my clients want."

  Valerie raised an eyebrow. "Is that right. Then what do I want right now?"

  His lip twisted in a smirk. "You're a mess," he told her. "I'm picking up a lot of things from you. Other than the obvious, you want me out of your hair because you want to go back to…something. Being sad? That's a new one."

  "That's enough," Valerie snapped. She realized she was gripping the arms of her chair tightly and relaxed her fingers.

  "Don't you want to know what the obvious one is?"

  "Let me guess, me wrapping my fingers through your hair and using it to guide your face between my legs? Forget it."

  He sat straighter for a moment and then grinned. "I have to admit, I was nervous coming here."

  "You should be."

  He finished drawing a breath and gave her a nod before he continued, "But, I'm beginning to like you. You have a darkness in you. Not the hate and fear, I mean a dark sense of humor."

  Instead of refuting what he'd claimed about her she said, "Sarcasm."

  "Yes, sarcasm," he agreed. "But why are you sad? Is it the loneliness I sense or—"

  "That's enough," she growled and stood up. "I didn't ask for this."

  He held up his hands and stood up with her. "Relax, if you can. I didn't mean any harm. I'm just trying to help. For all I know maybe getting you to talk and stopping you from being so depressed will save your life."

  Val snorted. "Guess you're not so good at reading people after all."

  He winced. "I admit, there's nothing I see about you that says suicidal."

  "That's right," she said. "So how about you skip on out of here and let me get back to work. I promise if I end up about to die I'll give you a call. Sound good?"

  "It doesn't work like that," he said. "I'm bound to you."

  "I don't see how that's my problem."

  "It's a magical contract," Dag'on pointed out.

  Val narrowed her eyes and cursed. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts, reaching out with her other senses she'd picked up at the academy and refined in her Army training. It only took a moment before she picked up the faint trace of magic that connected her aura to his. She opened her eyes and cursed again.

  "What was that?" he asked. "Are you… that explains so much! You're a witch! A witch that is also a witchslayer!"

  "I am not a witch," Val growled at him. "I learned how to sense magic, that's all."

  He studied her and then shook his head. "I call bullshit. If you can sense it, you can use it."

  "No, I can't. I tried."

  "You tried?"

  Val hesitated and then sighed. She sank back down into her chair and Dag'on retreated to the couch. "I discovered the talent when I hit puberty, but it wasn't very reliable. I hoped I could do something with it though, so I enrolled in the academy and struggled through a year of it before… before I gave up."

  "You didn't give up," he said.

  "I gave up on that life," she retorted.

  He held up his hands and conceded. "Fair enough."

  "I'd learned how to use it a little better though and helped others figure out how to work their spells. No real use there, except maybe as a magic coach. Fortunately, I found another use."

  "Witchslayer," he breathed.

  She nodded. "The Army recruited me and prom— well, they told me I could put my talents to better use. I believed the recruiter because he knew what I wanted to hear. I learned how to use my talent better and found some other talents along the way. Then the war broke out soon after and I fought in it."

  "You were ruthless, from what I've heard."

  Val shrugged. "I did my job."

  "And took great pleasure in it?"

  "Maybe," she admitted. "The point is, the war ended and I'd had enough, so I got out. End of story."

  "Hardly," he said. "Why'd you come here? To kill more metas?"

  She scowled at him. "No. I came here because I didn't know anything else. Not killing metas, but putting what I knew to work. I'm still relevant here. The pay is nothing to sneeze at either. If I'd gone anywhere else I'd probably end up wasting away or end up being some kind of a criminal."

  "That's honest," he said. "Not many people would admit to turning to crime."

  Val shrugged. "If I can't do what I do, what other choice would I have? I'm not good at anything else. I've already changed my life once, I don't have any interest in trying to learn a third profession."

  "You're very cynical," he said. "But I think your sarcasm is a defense?"

  "Maybe it is," she said. "It's none of your damn business though, is it?"

  "I suppose not," he agreed. He glanced around and smiled. "So, now what?"

  "You leave, I go back to work."

  "Didn't we go over this already? If you have work to do, give me something. I'm your servant, after all, you don't even have to pay me."

  Val pressed her lips together and considered his offer. "What are you good at? Other than fucking, I mean."

  He held up his hands. "I'm not sure, but unlike you, I'm not afraid to find out."

  Val rolled her eyes and flipped him off. She turned and walked out of the living room and made her way to her office. "Fine, I'll give you a list of people to check out. Just find their locations and status and report back. Don't talk to them and don't let them know you were looking for them. Got it?"

  Dag'on smiled. "Why not? Tell me what you're really after— or who— and I might be able to offer more help."

  "No, I think that's good for now."

  "You don't trust me?"

  "Why should I? I saved your life, sure, but that means you're obliged to save mine. It doesn't mean you won't use those same channels you used to find out rumors about me to warn the people I'm afte
r. After all, you only have to save my life, not make my life easy."

  Dag'on shook his head and smirked. "You are cynical! Or do you hate metas that much?"

  "Hate is a strong word," Val mused. "It implies that I care about someone enough to hate them. It's been a long time since I've hated that much."

  He watched her and nodded. "I'll be surprised if I make it through the day without having a chance to fulfill my contract."

  "Stopping yourself from killing me doesn't count, does it?"

  His lip jerked up in another smile. "It doesn't," he admitted. "But I suspect there are a city full of people out there that don't find you as entertaining as I do."

  She watched him for a moment longer and then nodded. "You're probably right. Now get your stinky ass out of my apartment and make yourself useful."

  Chapter 5

  Val paused to look at the datapad on the floor. She'd dropped it there earlier, before the incubus had showed up. "Dag'on," she mumbled, reminding herself that he had a name. He wasn't just The Incubus. He was a person. A man with thoughts and feelings and a life of his own. Even if he was a meta.

  She scowled and bent over to pick up the datapad. She glanced at the picture on it and swiped it off screen. Now the picture was gone, just like the man who had once lived and breathed… and loved.

  She dropped the pad on her end table and turned to her closet. She might as well get back to work, otherwise she'd end up lost in her memories and feeling sorry for herself. Then Dag'on would come back and with that god-awful smell of his he'd end up seducing her because she'd be weak and lonely and wanting….

  Val shook her head. "Get a grip!" she hissed. "Tark's dead and Dag'on is one of them."

  Them. Metahumans. Beings that were different from humans. Stronger, faster, magical, and just generally more dangerous. They'd killed Tark and Davina… except Davina wasn't dead. That had been almost seven years ago, during the war. Where had she been all this time?

  Val sighed. It didn't matter, Davina was here now. And if she was here and Lennox wanted her brought in, she'd done something wrong. Something bad. Something that hurt people or was going to cause some major problems. Problems that risked the already volatile system The Complex was based on.