Harlequin Nocturne March 2014 Bundle: ShadowmasterRunning with Wolves

by Susan Krinard

  “Down,” Brita said, her voice utterly unfamiliar. “On your belly. If you fight, you know what happens to her.”

  Drakon knelt and lay down as best he could in the small space beside Phoenix’s body. He turned his head, resting his cheek on the concrete to look at her quiet face. Her hair had fallen over her eyes, and all he wanted to do was tuck that errant strand behind her ear.

  Planting her knee on Drakon’s back, Brita cuffed him forcefully enough that she would have broken a human’s wrist. Then she chained him to the banister. Drakon could hear the Enforcers starting up the stairs from the first floor.

  “Why?” he rasped. “Why, Brita?”

  She didn’t even look at him. She knelt beside Phoenix, pulled something out of her pocket—a small vial of blue liquid—and forced Phoenix’s lips open. Drakon kicked at her desperately, just managing to jar her arm before she’d poured more than half the contents into Phoenix’s mouth. The vial went flying and smashed against the wall, leaving a spatter of sapphire streaks on the graffitied concrete.

  Swearing in the Fringer way, Brita kicked Drakon in the head. By the time he was able to see and think again, the Enforcers were on him. One spoke with Brita, one of them called for an ambulance, and three others hauled Drakon to his feet.

  “She was right,” a woman’s voice said into her com. “We have him, and the weapon. There’s a woman here with him, but she’s unconscious. We’re bringing them in.”

  Moving with all his carefully hoarded strength, Drakon spat out his caps, flung himself at Brita and snapped at her neck. A baton connected with his skull, and everything went black.

  Chapter 19

  The first thing Phoenix smelled was the acidic stench of antiseptic grotesquely mingled with the fragranace of a bouquet of flowers on the table beside her bed.

  Or, more precisely, the medical cot with its uncomfortable pillows and a stiff, white sheet pulled up to her waist, covering her bare legs under the hem of her gown. The infirmary was very quiet, the walls very white, the amenities sparse. Phoenix was alone in the room. A black-and-white picture of the original Golden Gate Bridge hung on the opposite wall.

  Memories came back in bits and snatches: Drakon’s grim face, the black rifle in his hand, her own voice pleading, bitter pills being forced into her mouth, sorrowful eyes.

  Drakon had drugged her. But she’d heard the shot. She’d heard someone speak the word revenge.

  She swung her legs over the side of the cot, yanking the IV out of her arm, and searched the room for her clothes. She didn’t get very far. The door opened, and a nurse walked in, his white uniform untouched by a single stain or discoloration.

  “Up already, I see,” he said, scribbling something on his tab. “Good to see you doing so much better, Agent Stryker. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you lie down.”

  Phoenix strongly considered resisting him, but she soon found she was too dizzy to stand. The nurse tucked her in, replaced the IV tube into the access port in her arm and studied the monitor over the bed.

  “Vitals good,” he said, making another notation. “They’d be better if you hadn’t tried to get up. It was touch-and-go there for a while, you know.”

  “I’ve been unconscious?”

  “On and off for two days.” He frowned at her over the tab. “Do you remember anything from during that time?”

  “No.” She realized she had an agonizing headache, but it was the last thing in the world that mattered to her now.

  Drakon. The last she’d seen of him was when he’d given her the drugs. She’d heard a little of his voice after, and another woman’s. Then...the shot. Drakon had killed someone. Patterson? Had Drakon left her there and gotten away, knowing she wouldn’t be considered an accomplice if she’d been unable to participate?

  “You were drugged, almost fatally,” the nurse said. “Fortunately, your system was strong enough to fight it off. I’ll send the doctor in to speak to you. You’ll have to follow a—”

  “Tell me what happened,” she said, sitting up.

  “Easy.” He pushed her down gently with a big hand on her shoulder. “You were found on the roof of an apartment building with the man who tried to poison you and the woman who brought him down. She’s an operative, like you. She said you knew where this Drakon was headed and went to stop him, but he overpowered you and killed Patterson. She was able to stop him from escaping before the Enforcers arrived.”

  There was only one “she” the nurse could be talking about.

  “Drakon,” she said. “He—”

  “The mayor has given you and Agent Ward commendations for your work in bringing the assassin in. Congratulations.”

  The monitor above the bed began to beep as Phoenix’s heartbeat shot up to almost dangerous levels. Moving efficiently, the nurse checked her IV and made an adjustment.

  “You need more rest,” he said. “Your entire system has been through a bad shock, and you’re naturally experiencing some trauma after being held hostage and nearly killed by an Opir assassin. The more you cooperate, the sooner we can let you out of here.” He checked her vitals again. “I’m going to speak to the doctor. Try to sleep, and he should be around in about an hour.”

  With an encouraging smile, the nurse left the room. As soon as she knew he was away from the door, Phoenix got off the bed.

  All at once various monitors began to beep and complain loudly, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of the room simply with determination and brute strength. She lay back down, and the monitors went silent again.

  They’d all come running if she set off the alarms. Especially since she’d received a “commendation” from Mayor Shepherd.

  As had Brita. Brita, who’d betrayed both her and Drakon. Whatever Drakon had given Phoenix, he hadn’t meant to kill her. Something must have gone wrong.

  Brita had brought him down. If she’d made Drakon helpless somehow, she could have done anything she wanted to Phoenix.

  And no one would believe a top agent like Brita would attempt to kill a fellow operative. But if she’d meant to, why wouldn’t she just accuse Phoenix of being a traitor and let Aegis take care of her?

  I should have convinced him, she thought. I should have made him see that Brita was his enemy.

  The why didn’t matter now. She had to find a way out of this place. She had to find out what had become of him.

  Two days. He was probably under interrogation in one of the cells built for Opiri. Two days.

  And since he’d never tell them anything...

  Reaching back to her most basic training, Phoenix breathed deeply and relaxed all of her muscles one by one. When she was calm again, she let herself drift, convinced her body that it was well and whole, that any distress was long past. She heard the monitors humming contentedly. Maybe, if she could use a form of biofeedback to keep her vitals level...

  It wasn’t the doctor who entered the room as she was preparing to get up again. Only the most rigid discipline kept her from leaping out of the bed and attempting to strangle the woman in Aegis casuals standing several feet away.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Brita said. “You might relapse, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

  “Where is Drakon?” she demanded.

  “Incarcerated, as you might expect.” Brita wandered around the room, pausing before the photograph of the bridge. “We’re not being watched or recorded, so we can speak freely here. As far as I know, he’s still alive. As for his condition...” She shrugged. “That I can’t tell you. But torture, of course, isn’t condoned by Aegis or any part of our government. So I suppose he’s uncomfortable, but not badly hurt.”

  Even if they did hurt him, Phoenix knew Drakon would never break. He’d say nothing of his fellow operatives or the Citadel’s plans. He’d never tell them why h
e had a personal reason to hate Aaron Shepherd and John Patterson.

  And he wouldn’t beg to live. He knew none of it would make any difference.

  “If any harm comes to him,” Phoenix said, “I’ll—”

  “You do realize he tried to kill you?” Brita said, coming to stand beside the bed again.

  “No. I don’t know what happened, but he didn’t want me to have any part of what he was going to do. And I know you set him up. You wanted Patterson dead, but you didn’t want to take the risk of getting caught.”

  “An accurate assessment,” Brita said, her voice as cool as ever and yet with a completely different cadence than the one she’d used in the Fringe. “But everything I told both him and you is true...there is a deadly biological weapon in production. And Drakon is expendable.”

  “Expendable? He said you two had—”

  “Come from the same father?” She laughed, revealing teeth as neatly capped as Drakon’s had been. “Drakon was only made by my father. Maybe families don’t mean the same thing to us as they do to you, but we have our loyalties. And our knowledge of what a man or woman is worth.”

  “And he’s worth nothing.”

  “Except as a tool. That was all he ever was, a tool with his own agenda, one that also suited Erebus. But he lost any usefulness when he began to have feelings for you. He could no longer be trusted.”

  So his feelings for me brought him to this, Phoenix thought. Would it have been better if he’d never felt anything at all?

  “So now Patterson’s dead,” Phoenix said. “How will that help you?”

  “I don’t plan to share all my secrets.”

  “I can tell them everything you told me. I’ll—”

  “Sound a little crazy, given the drugs you’ve just recovered from. And I’m by far the senior operative. I’ve given them results. Whatever you did to help, I brought the assassin in. And saved your life.”

  “Why didn’t you kill me, when you knew I might give you away?”

  “Who says I didn’t try?”

  “The drugs—”

  “I...shall we say, attempted to enhance their effects. But Drakon interrupted, and I had to hope what I’d given you was enough. Evidently, it wasn’t.”

  Phoenix clenched her fists. “You made a big mistake, leaving me alive.”

  “That can be remedied, if you cause me any trouble. But I may still find a use for you. That is, if you want to save Drakon.”

  Phoenix’s heart set the monitor to buzzing again. “How?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She sighed and glanced toward the window, where the sun cast stripes of golden light across the floor through the blinds. “It might interest you to know that something good came of all this. Matthew Patterson actually stood before the assembly and his father and read off those secret files. He seemed to take some satisfaction in doing it, I hear, though he was naturally horrified when his father was shot.” She shrugged, as if none of this mattered to her at all. “The mayor has already issued a statement proposing strict new anti-brutality measures to the Senate. And I’ve heard Shepherd blames himself for Patterson’s death. He assumes the assassin received faulty intelligence and believed he was to be with the group going to meet Matthew.”

  “I want to see Drakon,” Phoenix said.

  “I’m sure Aegis will want to discuss your experiences with him as soon as you’re fit.”

  “I want to see him. Now.”

  “Maybe that can be arranged. I have some influence, as you might imagine. But I can also arrange that you never see him again...if you make the mistake of sharing what we’ve discussed in this room.”

  “I won’t betray my own people again.”

  “We’ll see.” Brita bent to sniff the flowers on the bedside table. “I hope you liked my little get-well gift. I think I’d better leave you to your rest now, or the doctor will come charging in, demanding to know why I’m taxing your strength.”

  “Physical strength isn’t everything,” Phoenix said through clenched teeth.

  “I might worry if you had more of the other kinds of strength,” Brita said as she walked to the door. “But you aren’t particularly clever, and you suffer from the worst weakness of all. Sleep well.”

  Phoenix lay still for a long while after, mastering her emotions, thinking carefully. Brita could attempt to expose her as a traitor, if she chose to. And she claimed to have influence over Drakon’s fate, as improbable as that sounded. She was still extremely dangerous to the Enclave.

  But if the part about the biological weapon was true, then Brita couldn’t be blamed for wanting to stop it. Phoenix wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever was necessary to bring such a horror to light.

  Could Shepherd possibly be involved? The man she’d once loved? The one who wanted a peace that could never be broken? Had he been working with Patterson, who claimed to want to maintain the current Armistice with its brutal deportation laws?

  Killing the majority of Opiri would achieve a “lasting peace.”

  Hardly able to bear the wait, Phoenix composed herself again and was ready to be at her most cooperative when the doctor arrived. She did such a good job that the doctor agreed to let her dress and take a walk—a short one—through the medical center. She gave Phoenix a pair of loose hospital pants and slippers, as well as a less flimsy top that pulled on over the head. Then the doctor left and resumed her rounds.

  Phoenix found her ID badge in the side table drawer and was out of her room and into the corridor in minutes. She located an unlocked office and a closet containing a pair of neatly pressed women’s pants and casual shirt, a size too large, which she threw on over her hospital clothes. Then she left the medical center, concealing her dizziness with a bold front of authority, and made her way to her quarters. She exchanged the borrowed clothing for her casual fatigues and went straight to the underground detention facility.

  Guards stopped her at the first gate, but she managed to get past them by flashing her ID and telling them who she was. The second set of guards were not so easy to convince. They were more sympathetic when she explained that she wanted to see the bloodsucker who had nearly killed her, even if it was only through the observation window.

  The third set of guards turned her away with a brusque apology and a recitation of orders that could not under any circumstances be disobeyed. Phoenix spun around and strode back the way she had come, knowing that she’d have to go straight to the top.

  Chan would see reason. Phoenix just had to think of the right approach. She had to find out how much, if anything, Drakon had told his interrogators, and then make a case that she might get more out of him because of their relationship, which Brita might or might not already have reported.

  She was almost to Chan’s office when a familiar man intercepted her: Behr, one of Mayor Shepherd’s top security men. He made it very clear that the mayor was very anxious to see how she was doing, and that he would be happy to request the doctor’s permission for her to visit him in his Capitol apartments.

  Phoenix had no interest in waiting a second longer than necessary. Behr escorted her to a side entrance, where three other security men and women were waiting. Outside, where the trees were leafing out and birds were singing, it might have seemed as if nothing at all was wrong—except for the complete absence of civilians on the normally busy streets and the scores of Enforcers, police, Aegis and military personnel patrolling the area and guarding the complex of government buildings around the Capitol building. Phoenix had to pass through unusually strict and thorough security measures to enter the building, amounting to virtually a strip search. Only her status as an Aegis operative spared her a cavity search as well.

  She followed Behr and his colleagues to the heavily guarded elevator bank and up to the top floor, where dozens of security personnel lined the hall leading to the mayora
l suite. After further identity checks, she and her escorts continued past a quartet of heavily armed guards outside the door and entered the mayor’s reception room. Another eight guards ranged around the room. The security panel had been closed over the reinforced window overlooking the square.

  “Nix,” Aaron said, embracing her under the hard eyes of his security team. “When I heard you’d nearly died...”

  Forcing her body to relax in spite of her urge to spit in his face, Phoenix smiled. “As you see,” she said, “I’m fine.” She pulled away and met his troubled gaze. “I only wish I’d been able to stop the assassination.”

  With a low mutter, Shepherd walked a little unsteadily to a teak sideboard. “If you don’t mind,” he said, and poured himself a measure of rare whiskey. He downed it in one swallow and turned abruptly to face her again. “You know it wasn’t Patterson they wanted. The assassin thought I’d be there.”

  Phoenix took a deep breath and looked around, noting the expressionless faces that watched her as intently as they did their employer. As if they expected her to attack the mayor right in front of them.

  But his would-be assassin was already in custody. He might have some reason to fear a second attempt by one of Drakon’s allies. But how could any of them be so stupid as to try now?

  Drakon, she thought. Focus on Drakon.

  Feeling unsteady herself, Phoenix took a seat on the couch. Aaron fiddled with an empty glass as if he was considering a refill. But he set it aside and glanced around the room at his army of protectors.

  “I want all of you to step outside,” he said.

  “That won’t be possible, sir,” said the woman who was obviously the head of the team.

  “There is no other entrance or exit from this suite except that one,” Aaron said, nodding at the door. “And no one’s getting through that window. I want to speak to Agent Stryker alone.”

  At first it seemed that the team leader would refuse, but at last she signaled to the others, including Phoenix’s escort, and they all filed out of the room.