Zel’s voice was low as she spoke. “We understand. But you won’t find any answers about what happened to your man in this room, Mr. Stamp, I promise you that. There really are wild things out there at night. Nature hasn’t been shy about providing them.”
Sammy was quick to support her. “If you’d just keep your men inside, you won’t find any of them attacked from now on.”
For a second, it seemed that Stamp and his men would leave without further ado.
Until the old man said his last piece.
“Hence, screw you and the horse you rode in on—”
Seemingly resigned, Stamp gestured toward Whale Hide, who yanked a contraption out of a long pocket of his heat suit and zap-flicked it toward the oldster.
Too late, Gabriel saw that it was a taserwhip, the length of it sizzling through the air toward the old man’s neck.
Gabriel felt himself going into a crouch, automatically preparing to spring and intercept the lash by wrapping it around his hand, reeling the culprit toward him for a preemptory reckoning. The electricity would give him a charge, yet he’d heal quicker than the oldster.
But, near his feet, Chaplin pressed hard against Gabriel’s legs, the dog opening his mind, pushing in images of what would occur if Stamp’s men realized that they had a monster in the room:
More whips, zap-flicking toward Gabriel, lashing around his neck and arms, capturing him. . . .
The images caused Gabriel a second of hesitation—one in which the taserwhip sang out to curl around the oldster’s neck.
The smell of burning skin hit the air.
As the man gurgled out a whimper under the grip of the lash, Gabriel could just about feel it, too. And when the old guy’s hands came up to pull the wire from around his neck before the thug could fully energize it, Gabriel couldn’t help but start forward, consequences or not, thinking that his own capture would be nothing compared to the pain of knowing something could’ve been done to avoid the old man’s anguish.
But Chaplin disagreed, fixing his teeth to his master’s trousers, urging him back and connecting to his mind with ferocious strength.
Mariah, the dog thought. All of us. Don’t make it worse.
That brought Gabriel to his senses.
If they saw how he withstood the electricity, they’d know, and he’d be no good to anyone right now if he exposed ha c, bringing this sanctuary into the sights of the authorities for harboring a monster.
So he hung back, digging his nails into his palms as he fisted his hands by his side, as helpless as he’d felt that night when he’d seen Abby wasting away.
The other two employees already had their whips out, eyeing Zel and Sammy, and the tips of Gabriel’s fangs pierced him.
But he pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes.
“Don’t even think about it,” Stamp said to Gabriel. “Not unless you want the electricity turned on high and your old friend to really dance.”
Chaplin tore his teeth away from Gabriel’s trousers, barking at Stamp.
The kid’s gaze slid down to the dog.
Gabriel bent to wrap an arm around the canine’s neck, holding him from jumping in to defend Mariah’s friends now.
Outplayed, Gabriel thought to his familiar. Too much to lose, boy. You should know that.
But the notion abraded him, anyway. They’d all been retreating for a long time, and look where it’d gotten them—underground, hiding, always on the defensive.
Yet he carried on, knowing that Chaplin had been right when he’d reminded him that now wasn’t the time for his vampire to come out. Not if he wanted to finesse his way into answers about Annie or find what he was looking for and then somehow move on. Not if he wanted to keep these people from further trouble.
But he could still help.
“Why’re you really here?” Gabriel asked, his lips barely moving so that he could hide his teeth.
As the oldster let out another, weaker trembling sound of discomfort in the background, Stamp glanced toward it, as if it might answer Gabriel’s question.
He’d come here to show he was serious about keeping his men secure.
Gabriel’s hands tightened in Chaplin’s fur, and the dog stirred beneath him.
Obviously content with the upper hand, the kid took a handheld black unit out of his suit pocket. It looked like a gun with a flip-up monitor as he turned it on and aimed it at Gabriel.
At first, Gabriel thought to cloud the device, just as he had done with Mariah’s visz monitor, but Stamp adjusted a knob, and the machine proved too powerful to interrupt.
So, Gabriel withstood it, realizing that the kid was only using a scanner with a built-in facial recognition database to determine who his neighbors were. Really, there’d be no big harm since Gabriel had never been identified as a monster, so it wouldn’t give Stamp much to go on. Also, he was only a couple years older than his vampire appearance let on.
The bottom line was that Gabriel, like many other society dropouts, had destroyed his identity long ago, and the history stored in the database would end just before it got interesting. Thank-all for that.
Stamp touched the screen, no doubt accessing more information. Then he flicked a glance at Gabriel, his features never changing, never revealing what might be on that monitor.
All the same, Gabriel put on a show of breathing quicker, just as he’d done with Mariah. He just hoped that the machine didn’t have anything that could register his vital signs, because he’d be in trouble.
But when Stamp turned away from him, Gabriel supposed the scanner wasn’t equipped with such accoutrements, and he laid his hand flat against Chaplin, patting the dog, telling him that things would be okay if they could just endure another few moments.
Stamp went on to scan Zel, who had her hands pressed flat on the crate table again, a muscle working in her wrinkled cheek, as if she were drawing on every ounce of restraint she had. All of them seemed to be doing that, especially the old man, who shook under the pull of the lash.
“All of this,” the kid continued as he accessed the screen, “could’ve been done in a friendly enough manner. ‘Hello,’ you could’ve said. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Zelda Hopkins, ex-lieutenant of police forces in the Northlink. I went off the Nets a while ago, but I’d be pleased to show some kindness to someone else who could enjoy a fresh start.’”
When the oldster yelped from his corner, Stamp glanced at Whale Hide, who seemed to be getting more and more impatient to mess around with his prey.
“Lay off him,” the kid said.
His command was so even and forceful that Chaplin shrank back. As for Whale Hide, he held up his free hand, murmuring something like a Text apology.
Stamp turned the scanner on Sammy, looking just as blank-faced as he had with Zel and Gabriel. “All of your ID chips went dead a while ago,” he said. “If I didn’t intend to show you what a good neighbor I can be, I’d report that.”
“But you won’t,” Zel said. “Not if you want to get along.”
Stamp lowered the device, sending her a glance that could’ve been either detached or threatening.
Zel shut up, then seemed angry at herself for backing down.
The kid wandered over to scan the oldster next, and Stamp adjusted the machine as a high squealing sound made Gabriel and Chaplin cringe. Gabriel tried not to show it, but when he saw that the pitch had caused Zel, Sammy, and the oldster to react, too, he relaxed. The response wouldn’t set him apart.
Stamp finally lowered the device. “You’re not even in the database, sir.”
“Intrusive technology came after my time,” the oldster said, the lie a mocking last punch to show he still had some fight left in him.
By now, he was on his hands and knees, breathing hard and unsteadily, the whip still looped around his neck. Gabriel knew that Whale Hide hadn’t even turned up the electricity to high, either. He would’ve smelled the crisp of it.
Nearby, Chompers humphed, acknowledging the unlikelihood
of anyone not being in the database. But his friends didn’t find the oldster’s gumption quite as amusing.
Gabriel kept his gaze trained on Stamp, wondering what would come next . . . if the oldster’s continued resistance would finally break the kid’s patience.
Were it possible to scan these assholes right back, he’d probably find reports of brain readouts classifying these guys as repressed psychopaths.
His blood surged through his veins, and Chaplin sensed it, pressing against his chest again in warning.
I know, boy, Gabriel thought. Because after seeing that these men weren’t just thugs—they were carrying weapons in those pockets, some of which might kill a vampire within a second flat—he felt even more powerless.
Still, as Stamp put away his scanner, Gabriel caught a jitter of movement from Whale Hide, who still seemed up for playtime.
His thumb moved to press the electric-pulse button and—
That was all Gabriel was going to take.
With all his will, he pushed back his inner monster, rising to his feet as any decent human would do, and then avoiding Chaplin’s teeth again, he took a few long steps across the room. He took Whale Hide by the wrist with one hand, preventing him from pressing the button and, with the other, he denied his true strength and used street smarts instead, positioning his thumb against the jerk’s eye, feeling the curved, gelled softness beneath.
“Enough,” Gabriel said.
No one moved except for the oldster, who’d rolled to his back for a better view, panting, as if holding himself back from getting angrier.
Gabriel prepared himself for the feel of a shocking lash around his own neck, but it never came.
Only Stamp’s voice did.
“He’s right,” said the kid. “Undo your lash, Teddy.”
The thug did so, and Gabriel held up his hands, making a show of backing off, too.
The entertainment over, Stamp packed up his facial recognition gear and herded his men toward the door. But before he got there, he paused near Gabriel.
Their gazes snagged, and it was all Gabriel could do not to peer more deeply into Stamp’s eyes, parting the dark of them to get to what was beneath.
But more than the instinct to look, he remembered the images Chaplin had given to him about what might happen if he got caught.
Someday, Gabriel thought. Someday soon when he found Stamp alone, he was going to peer inside, and then he was going to leave before the chance of getting caught turned into a reality.
With a nod that could’ve denoted a warped respect for Gabriel, who’d finally shown what he was worth, Stamp followed his men through Annie’s door, then shut it behind them.
Gabriel kept his gaze on it. He wouldn’t look into any minds right now, but he was sure going to go through that door to see what was inside it when the time was right.
He didn’t turn around, even when he felt Chaplin’s tail curl around his leg. Even when the oldster clambered to his feet.
“Ain’t you the shit?” the man said gleefully.
As Gabriel mentally restored the visz lens to where Mariah would be able to see the common area again if she was watching, he realized that maybe he wasn’t a fraction of the hero Abby used to think he was. Maybe he never would be.
But when he finally turned back to the Badlanders, they were looking at him as if he just might be wrong.
A World Gone Mad
8
Mariah
When the visz finally came back on, I stopped messing with the wall-bound control panel. The common-area connection had fritzed ou, leaving me hanging, although none of my other cameras had broken down. But the viszes weren’t perfect, and sometimes they failed me like this.
I pushed shut the panel’s door, then stepped back to get a better scope of the screen, which showed what was going on in the commons now. Unlike before, when the group had generally been conversing at the crate table, Gabriel was now standing by a door while facing my neighbors.
Annie’s door.
I backed away from the monitor, rubbing my hands over my arms, which carried a chill. Before the visz had gone out, Gabriel had been talking about a woman he’d come to the New Badlands to find. Abigail. Abby for short.
Or maybe even Annie.
At the echo of her name, a tide of violent despair edged its way over me, so I backed away from the visz to create distance. Annie and I . . . Well, we hadn’t gotten along.
On the visz, Gabriel walked away from Annie’s door, nodding to the other Badlanders as he made his way toward my own entrance. The sight of him made me come out of my momentary numbness as I waited for him to arrive.
I realized that the sight of him had the power to drag me a little ways out of my melancholy. Somehow, Gabriel piqued my interest. He piqued more, too, and now that I knew he wasn’t just here as the harmless wanderer he’d pretended to be, I went on double guard.
We didn’t need a stranger to get too close to us, especially if my suspicions proved correct and Gabriel was thinking that Abby and Annie were one and the same. We didn’t need the floodgates from outside to open into our hiding place.
I heard Gabriel saying a farewell to Zel, Sammy, and the oldster, and I muted the visz’s sound and headed toward the food prep area, intending to seem otherwise occupied when he returned.
It’d be bad form for him to know I’d been keeping tabs. Hell, it’d been awful enough that I’d accused him of being a vampire. Why did I even bring that up with him? Sure, I knew, contrary to what Gabriel had told me, that there were monsters, but to go round accusing people of it . . . ?
Dumb. Best to keep quiet. Best to keep safe by pretending I knew less than I did. Chaplin had been adamant about backing off the questioning, too, and I trusted my dog’s judgment more than anything in this world; he’d told me he would handle Gabriel. He’d also told that to Zel, who would spread it round to the rest. I’d let the dog do what he needed to with our guest, even if it included bringing him to the others, who’d no doubt blame me for his introduction, anyway.
But there was something even more that kept me from challenging the dog—I also kind of felt decent about having Gabriel round, monster or not. He’d chased off Chompers and made such a productive day out of work. Not that I really needed his help, of course.
The tunnel door opened, and I grabbed a cloth, starting to wipe down a cooler while trying not to feel the thud of Gabriel’s footsteps in my chest.
Chaplin trotted into the prep section, brushing against my leg, and I smiled at the dog, masking all my concerns about what I’d heard on the visz.
Shortly thereafter, I heard Gabriel stop just before he entered the room. Awareness trickled over my skin, a simultaneous warm and cold that came to settle in the center of me. The sensations were confusing, turbulent. I hadn’t ever enjoyed such a reaction before he’d come along, and I the heat separating itself from everything else, stretching through my limbs, enlivening every cell.
While my breathing upped its pace, I kept wiping the cloth over the cooler, telling myself not to turn round, to keep working. Stop, I told my body. It needed to stop what it was doing. . . .
Chaplin nudged my leg, because he knew that I was off balance. But then Gabriel spoke, his low voice only adding to my ever-growing aches.
“Mariah.”
Hearing him say my name . . .
I pushed back with the only thing that had ever saved me before—defiance meshed with the fear of what might come.
“Why didn’t you just tell me about this Abby before?” My voice was low and grating, but it sounded better than I’d thought it would. “You lied about why you were here. You could’ve asked me about her and I would’ve told you that she hasn’t been round. Then you could’ve gone on your way to find better solutions.”
“You wouldn’t have told me squat, and you know it.” Gabriel shifted, as if he’d come to lean against the doorframe. “I’m glad I visited with the others. Now I know the extent of your situation with Stamp . . . an
d I know that he very well might’ve had something to do with your Annie not being here any longer.”
My hand gripped the cooler.
“But you must’ve heard all of that on the visz,” Gabriel added.
There was something in his tone that sent up another red flag in me, just like the one I’d detected when he’d seen the crucifix on the back of the door. An out-of-place, what-doesn’t-belong-here? inflection in his words.
Could a vampire mess with a visz if he put enough mind to it? Was that what’d happened when the screen had gone on the blink? Had Gabriel wanted to keep me out of Stamp’s way, just as he had with Chompers?
I finally turned round, and the sight of Gabriel punched at me, made me twist inside with unsettling force and motion.
He was indeed leaning against the doorframe, head bandages and all, the length of him as casual as always. But there was a stiffness to him, too, although he was doing his best to cover it with the raising of his brows.
“I’m afraid I didn’t hear any such thing on the visz,” I said.
“I know you were tuned in. Let’s not fool each other about that.”
Okay, I was willing to give him this much, especially because I did want to know what I’d missed while the reception had been down. “The visz did blank for a short time.”
Now he frowned. “So you didn’t see when Stamp and some of his boys found one of the tunnels to the common area? That they paid us a greeting?”
Whether he was perniciously omitting that he’d interfered with the visz or not, I stood away from the cooler, my pulse coming faster, pushing under my skin now, but it wasn’t just because Gabriel was in my full sight.
Stamp. Here?
Everything else—Gabriel’s “differentness,” Gabriel’s search for Abby—went by the wayside as fear crowded me.
“You already know that Stamp lost one of his men recently,” Gabriel said, “and he wanted to inquire as to how it might’ve happened. If a member of your community had anything to do with it.”
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