The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4)

by Zachary Rawlins

  There was a moment that Rebecca mistook for hesitation, then she realized that Hayley was giggling.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Well, that’s not true. I don’t know. You’ve got a bit of telepathy yourself, right, Ms. Levy?”

  Rebecca lit her last cigarette, tossing the match aside a moment too late to avoid burning her fingers.

  “More than a little, kiddo. What of it?”

  “You know what it’s like, then.” Hayley pulled Kant close, the dog whining as she scratched his cheeks. “Overheard thoughts. Unintended insights and emotional transference. You start to get a picture of the people around you, after a while, even if you try not to pry.”

  Rebecca smoked and waited. It didn’t feel like Hayley needed her prompting.

  “I worry about the company I keep, Ms. Levy,” Hayley said, laughing darkly. “All the time. With the Hegemony, the Auditors, with you. If I had been offered a choice, I would not have a chosen a life filled with violence, you know? I would have picked something nicer, maybe safer. I don’t understand why all of you don’t feel that way, and it frightens me a little. You’ve put together quite the collection of killers, Ms. Levy – and now I find out that I’m the one who worries you? Sometimes this whole scene is too much for me.”

  “It’s the contradiction that worries me,” Rebecca said, her voice pitched to be soothing. The tendrils of their minds were already entangled – an inevitable occurrence, when a pair of psychics interacted – but she would have to be incredibly cautious performing any empathic manipulation, for fear of Hayley noticing. “You don’t like the violence, and you are uncomfortable with most of your compatriots. Your loyalties are divided and uncertain. Yet, at least outwardly, there is no sign of the conflict, or the toll it must take on you. If anything, you have exceeded expectations as an Auditor.”

  Hayley snorted.

  “I’m doing too well, then?”

  Rebecca nodded slowly.

  “In a nutshell. My projections suggest that you should be courting a breakdown. You should be all tore up inside, Hayley.”

  Hayley’s eyes narrowed and her back stiffened. Kant, sensing the change in his mistress’s demeanor, leapt up excitedly, circling around her and whining.

  “What if you were wrong?”

  There was the hint of a warning in Hayley’s voice, but Rebecca met it with her most sympathetic smile. The conversation was something more than patter to cover the sleight of hand Rebecca was performing behind the scenes, and something less than therapy.

  “Not likely.” Rebecca shook her head. “The contradiction is too pronounced.”

  Hayley backed away slightly from Rebecca and fortified her mental defenses. Rebecca felt Hayley bristle, but made no attempt to smooth it over. She was busy, and too far inside of the girl to worry about defenses.

  “Then explain it to me. I’m fine. How is that?”

  “I think you were implanted, Hayley. I think you’re a mole, without even realizing it.”

  Rebecca snuffed out her cigarette. Kant approached her, growling softly from the back of his throat. The Director put one hand on his snout in a distracted manner, and the dog yawned and then rolled on his belly, wagging his cropped stub expectantly.

  “Your parents are close with Lord North, aren’t they? I’d guess that one of Henry North’s people implanted you, when they realized they were going to have an opportunity to nominate an Auditor. Or maybe even the Thule Cartel – also friends of the family, right? We’ll know soon enough. Probably a relay, a monitoring implant of some kind, but the placement was too deep. It incidentally modulates your normal emotional reactions.”

  Hayley shook her head violently, but Rebecca felt the intense speculative gaze of the girl’s telepathy turn inward, looking for any sign that she was compromised. That instinctual reaction on Hayley’s part just made Rebecca’s work all the quicker.

  “You won’t find it that easily.” Rebecca stood and wiping the grit of the roof from her jeans. “The implant is the work of an F-Class telepath – which raises all sorts of troubling questions in and of itself – and was apparently designed to be invisible. I can’t locate it precisely yet, but I know it must be there. Just the shape of it, really, and an unnatural evenness of your emotions.”

  Hayley scrambled away, but her movements were distressed and uncoordinated. She stumbled, and Rebecca was forced to intervene to keep her from tumbling to the ground.

  “No,” Hayley hissed. “You’re lying!”

  “It’s not fun to discover you were spying on yourself, is it?” Rebecca enfolded Hayley in her arms. “They must have neglected to have an empath consult on the implant, or they would have noticed the emotional suppression. You should have been crying on my shoulder weeks ago, girl.”

  Hayley grimaced and her telepathic defenses swelled. It was too late, obviously, but Rebecca was impressed nonetheless. The Director sat down behind her unsteady Auditor, making sure to keep in physical contact. The operation would be difficult enough as it was.

  “You’re lying,” Hayley whispered. “You mean to brainwash me.”

  “Just a little!” Rebecca gently coaxed Hayley into laying down in her lap. “I also want to help. I’m afraid this might hurt quite a bit, but you won’t remember any of it, and you’ll feel more yourself, after. I promise.”

  The girl was too subdued to respond, but Hayley still had some fight left in her. Unable to prevent Rebecca’s empathic machinations with defensive telepathy, the young Auditor lashed out instead, attempting to possess Rebecca. The attack was focused and desperate, and would have been successful had Rebecca not prepared for that very thing.

  Hayley fell soundly asleep in her lap.

  “Poor thing,” Rebecca murmured, toying with Hayley’s French braid. “Poor, poor dear.”

  ***

  She found Gerald Windsor in his office poking halfheartedly at his laptop. The pipe clenched between his teeth was red hot with use and the room was thick with pungent tobacco smoke.

  He perked up when he saw Rebecca.

  “Director,” he said, rising from his chair. “Can I offer you something?”

  “No,” Rebecca said, waving him back into his chair and then setting herself on a corner of his desk. “Not unless you have cigarettes.”

  “I regret that I do not.”

  “Figures,” Rebecca said, yawning. “I did what you suggested, by the way. Chatted with all of them.”

  “Oh?” Gerald gave her a curious look. “What came of it?”

  “The Auditors are complicated people,” Rebecca said, shrugging. “I did the best I could.”

  “That’s all a reasonable person can expect, Director.”

  “Yeah,” Rebecca agreed. “If you meet any reasonable people around here, let me know.”

  Eight.

  “You all made a promise. You took an oath – a sacred oath – to the Young Ladies Sewing Circle.” Sofia gave them all a stern glance over the top of her glasses. “Remember that, before you respond to Katya Zharovaya’s request.”

  ***

  “Sorry, sorry,” Vivik said, holding up his hand sheepishly. “Who is Sofia?”

  “Sofia Morales, back then,” Katya explained curtly. “Genius Hegemony wonder girl, graduated maybe six years ago. Currently Sofia North.”

  “Lord North’s wife?”

  “Only one I’m aware of, yeah.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah. I used to, at least.” Katya glared. “You asked the question, you know? Let me tell the story, jackass.”

  “Sorry.”

  ***

  “It is rather…”

  “…a lot.”

  Anastasia glared at Lilly Darren, her senior, and the head of the Black Sun-affiliated students at the Academy. Lilly brushed it off with the mindful indulgence of someone who is aware they are dealing with their future employer.

  “Yes. A great deal to ask.”

  “And you are new, Katya dear,” Therese
Muir observed, examining the needles stuck in a pincushion the size of an orange. “So new, in fact, that one could be forgiven for suspecting your motivations for joining us in the first place.”

  “That’s not true!” Katya Zharova objected softly, young and nervous. Only the company of Anastasia – still a child herself – provided the confidence necessary to face her senior in the Young Ladies Sewing Circle. “I really like to sew.”

  “It is as she says,” Anastasia confirmed. “She carries needlework supplies with her everywhere.”

  Margot Feld seconded the statement with a subdued nod from the other side of the table, where she bent over a sampler.

  “Katya is very nervous,” Hope Eckhart said softly, peering through the lens of her empathic protocol. “But she has no animosity or ulterior motives.” She paused to apply lip gloss from a bejeweled pink tube. “I trust that Katya’s motivations are genuine.”

  Katya felt a blend of resentment and gratitude toward Hope, the child of a prominent Hegemony family and something of a prodigy when it came to quilting, despite being several years too young to attend the Academy.

  “Anastasia, on the other hand, remains a complete enigma,” Therese Muir added, with a sigh and cunning smile. “Anastasia, you must explain to me one day how you perform that little trick.”

  Ana nodded thoughtfully, not rising to the bait. Therese watched the future head of the Black Sun closely, barely seeming to notice Katya beside her.

  “To the matter at hand,” Anastasia insisted; appearing, from the right angle, to be the bossy little girl that she was generally assumed to be. “Will the Circle honor Katya’s request?”

  “That’s a bit duplicitous,” Fatima al-Marri remarked, the lines of concern on her forehead disappearing beneath a gilded headscarf. “Katya’s standing in the Circle may be beyond question, but her ability to provide collateral seems limited. Isn’t that so, Katya, dear?”

  Katya looked at the ground and blushed as red as a stop sign.

  “As I thought.” Fatima offered Katya a sympathetic smile that she never noticed. Fatima was a soft-spoken orphan, adopted into the powerful Thule Cartel, a prominent member of the Hegemony – and therefore far from a friend. “Are you prepared to stand for Katya Zharova’s pledge, Anastasia Martynova?”

  Anastasia hesitated, and Katya’s face burned all the brighter.

  “The Black Sun has considerable resources of its own, as I recall,” Therese remarked airily, drumming her fingers on the table. “Perhaps you should consider looking elsewhere? The Circle does not traditionally concern itself with cartel matters.”

  “Is that so?” Lilly interjected furiously, coming to the defense of her cartel. “I can think of five times, just off the top of my head, that the Circle has intervened in cartel affairs during my tenure. Do you remember when we infiltrated the al-Jordani Cartel to rescue Ula and Lada from perpetual grounding and withdrawal from the Academy after Winter Dance?”

  Ula and Lada al-Jordani exchanged nervous smiles, but said nothing, as was their habit. Adopted by one of the Hegemony’s Great Families, the twin’s bond was private and insular. Lada would only relay her oracular insights via her only slightly more loquacious telepathic sister. They were unrivaled when it came to lacework and vintage stitching.

  “Or the time we arranged a conflict between the Black Sun and Morai Collective…”

  “Please,” Mai Quan said, with a shake of her head. “Don’t remind me.”

  “That was a bad one,” Margot Feld agreed, her attention devoted to the sampler she labored patiently over. “I was set on fire.”

  “…just to distract the Auditors from our raid on the Archive for costuming information from Central’s discovery and colonization?” Lilly Darren glared at everyone in the room, save Anastasia. “Or the time we tricked the whole of the Hegemony into insisting that a session of the council be held at the former Lacroix Cartel estate, within walking distance of a stretch of the French Rivera?”

  “We got to go to the beach!” Eerie piped in from the corner of the room, where she sat cross-legged on the floor, her knitting basket resting atop stockinged legs. “That was fun!”

  “It was fun.” Lilly’s eyes were flinty behind flared granny glasses. “It was also Therese’s idea.”

  “That’s hardly the same thing.” Therese set aside her pincushion and folded her arms. “I had the means to compensate the Circle! I didn’t show up empty handed, begging favors just a few months after I joined…”

  “A year, actually,” Katya corrected. “I’ve been here for a little more than…”

  “Same thing!” Therese snapped. “How do you plan to repay the Circle for the huge favor you have asked of us, Katya?”

  Katya clenched the arms of her chair like she meant to do it harm.

  “You can’t offer service, because your service is already pledged, and we all know it,” Therese continued mercilessly. “You’re practically Anastasia’s slave.”

  “Hey! That’s not…”

  “It’s true,” Therese said, with a smile. “Your family practically threw you away! You have no resources of your own, because everything you think that you have belongs to the Black Sun. Let’s be honest – I’ve seen the evaluations, the precognitive workups. You’re nothing special, Katya, and your prospects for advancement are dismal.”

  The room became very quiet. Only Margot Feld continued her work. Even Eerie was captivated by the spat, even if she appeared confused rather than invested in one side of the argument or another.

  “Therese,” Mai said, with a concerned look. “There’s no need…”

  “Do you think I’m being cruel?” Therese asked, tossing her hair arrogantly. “I’m not, child. I am simply saying what everyone is thinking, though they might sugarcoat it a bit. Even your mistress. You must understand, dear – to do what you request would put the Circle itself at risk! Imagine, all the years of labor, everything our seniors built over decades, washed away because of your childish affection. If you were in our shoes, would you take such a risk?”

  Katya slowly shook her head.

  “Enough theatrics,” Anastasia said. “I am prepared to provide collateral.”

  Katya’s eyes welled up with gratitude, and she reached for Anastasia’s hand.

  “Only a portion!” Anastasia slid her hand away. “I will offer a favor of significance to the Circle, to be used at any time, or any situation…”

  Eyes around the room blazed with excitement.

  “…assuming it does not harm the interests of the Black Sun Cartel,” Anastasia finished, somewhat cooling their ardor. “Or those of the Martynova family.”

  “Well, that is worth something,” Sofia agreed. “What else?”

  “A recommendation,” Anastasia added, with a slight wince. “A consideration. Three minor favors. A holiday, location to be determined.”

  “And?”

  Anastasia was silent for a moment.

  “A dress,” she said sourly. “A gown or evening wear. From my personal tailor in Tokyo. Made by hand, to measurement and specification.”

  Whispers were exchanged around the room.

  “That’s nothing to sniff at,” Sofia allowed. “Is that all?”

  Anastasia nodded, sparing Katya an apologetic glance.

  “That is all.”

  “Hmm. Then shall we vote?”

  “Not yet,” Margot said, glancing up from her sample at Anastasia. Anastasia nodded in response to an unasked question. “I offer one job, anything up to wetwork – escort, intimidation, collection, whatever. Normal cartel restrictions.”

  “Be specific, Margot,” Therese urged. “You mean Hegemony targets only?”

  “Or unaffiliated,” the red-headed vampire explained. She glanced again at Anastasia and had to wait a half-second longer for a nod. “Black Sun with Anastasia’s clearance.”

  “Now we’re talking!” Therese clapped. “This is getting so interesting!”

  “Please, Therese, don’t gloat,
” Sofia chided gently. “Is that all? Shall we vote?”

  “Wait for me!” Lilly cried out. “Let’s see…what shall I offer?”

  Therese glared and cleared her throat, but Lilly ignored her, making an elaborate show of her considered generosity. The room shifted uncomfortably at the blatant nature of her attempt to curry favor within the Black Sun.

  “Oh! I know!” Lilly said, aiming a broad smile directly at her future boss. “An essay! No…two essays! On anything…”

  “Really?” Therese asked scornfully. “Even math?”

  “Certainly,” Lilly snapped, defensively. “My grades in Calculus are just fine, thank you very much. It would make more sense to ask for essays in the humanities, where I am something of an expert, but I am quite willing to assist in any subject.”

  Lilly was a very good student. Her essays were frequently best in class.

  Her mathematics were acceptable.

  “Are we ready to vote, then?”

  The room went quiet. Glances were exchanged. Anastasia looked doubtful.

  “Ah…I’m sorry…”

  The room turned to Eerie in surprise. She wrapped her arms around herself, insecure in the face of the sudden attention.

  “Do you have a question, Eerie?” Therese almost laughed. “Did you get confused?”

  “I’m not confused,” Eerie said, strands of blond hair stuck in the corner of her mouth. “I have something to offer.”

  Muttering. Disconcertion.

  “Eerie, dear, why would you want to help?” Fatima asked, looking perturbed. “Are you friends with Katya?”

  “Not at all,” Eerie trilled. “I don’t know her.”

  “Then, why…?”

  “I’m sorry,” Eerie shrugged. “That’s my business.”

  Fatima’s jaw dropped, and then she just stared.

  “Can I say it?”

  Anastasia nodded slowly, watching the Changeling with an intense expression.

  “I will do the circle a big, big, big favor!” Eerie threw her arms out, to illustrate the size of the favor on offer. “I don’t care who or what. Cartels are dumb, anyway.”