Trancehack

by Sonya Clark

  Nate solved the problem for her by appearing at the end of the row. His size made him easy to spot. He appeared to be looking for someone or something specific. Maybe Calla. She pushed the thought away, and the hope that came with it. Stifling the urge to call out to him, she stayed in her lawn chair and waited for him to make his way down the row.

  There was enough of a crowd that it took several minutes. He also seemed to be examining the crafts for sale pretty closely, though he didn’t buy anything. As her patience neared its end, he got close enough to notice her. Once they made eye contact he quit meandering and made his way straight to her.

  Okay, so maybe he was looking for her. Quashing the pleasure the thought gave her, she reminded herself she had a purpose for seeing him. A serious purpose. Still, it didn’t hurt to give him a smile.

  “Detective Asshole! How nice to see you again.”

  An embarrassed smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Hi, Calla.” He stood in front of her table, looking over the tray of earrings. “This all you got?”

  “I’ve sold two trays already. I’m glad the place shuts down in an hour—I’m ready to be out of this heat.” Making small talk with him, with anyone, felt awkward. She didn’t know what else to say. Are you in on a DMS conspiracy? didn’t seem like a good icebreaker.

  He traced his fingers over some of the earrings. “You still mad at me?” He glanced at her quickly, then dropped his eyes back to the tray.

  It took her a moment to figure out what to say. “Look, I don’t like what happened but I don’t blame you.” It was as close to an apology as she could get.

  “I don’t like what happened either.”

  Well. That was interesting. She didn’t know what to do with it though. Calla was used to being direct.

  “Do you have to stay until the bazaar closes?”

  “Why?” He was giving her an opportunity, but she couldn’t help questioning it.

  “I could use something cold to drink. Want to come with me?”

  “Do you need me as an informant again or is this a social call?” A completely unfair question considering she needed information from him, but she wanted...it shocked her to realize she just wanted to be a girl basking in the attention of a handsome guy. It had been forever since she’d felt that way.

  His eyes cut through the heat and warmed a part of her that had been cold too long. “It’s a social call.”

  Calla stood and began packing up the last of her merchandise. “Guess I better call you Nate then.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They left the bazaar in awkward silence. Calla had packed her things into a black messenger bag with a vivid green dragon embroidered on the front and now wore it slung across her body. She was dressed much like the first time he’d seen her, baggy gray cargo pants and two tank tops. Her arms were bare of tattoos this time.

  “The tats, were they glamours like your hair?”

  Grinning, she said, “Bingo. I hate needles.”

  “Wuss.”

  She looked at him sharply. “What, have you got a real one?”

  “Yep.”

  “What and where?”

  “That you have to earn.” Nate didn’t bother to keep the smug satisfaction from his face.

  Calla rolled her eyes. “So you really want me to keep calling you asshole?”

  They reached an intersection and waited for the light to change. Pointing up the street, he said, “There’s a place about half a block up that makes great iced coffee. That sound good?”

  She looked doubtful. “I guess.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the coffee bar, he opened the door for her but she halted. “I can’t.”

  “I thought you weren’t mad at me anymore.”

  “I’m not. It’s just...” Red stained her cheeks. “I’m not allowed.” She pointed at a sign in the window that said No Magic Born Allowed.

  Shit. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might not be allowed inside. He felt like an ass. “It’s not like they’ll know. They can’t enforce that.”

  “Places like that don’t take cash so we can’t buy anything there. If I get caught I can get arrested.”

  “You’ll be going in with a cop.”

  “I don’t want to risk it.” She turned to look back down the street, her expression stony. Even so, he could read the humiliation there. It made him angry for her, and embarrassed at his own privilege.

  He let the door close. “Is there a place you can go?”

  She didn’t answer. He was afraid he’d blown this chance with her. He stepped closer, reaching for her arm, and then she spoke.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “Calla.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No. This is a very bad idea. I gotta go.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  Nate swore, at himself for being ignorant, at Calla for being scared—at the whole situation. What he couldn’t figure out was which stupid thing he wanted more—to solve the mystery of Alan Forbes’ murder, or to give in to an attraction to a woman he couldn’t have a normal relationship with?

  * * *

  The Friday night crowd at Sinsuality throbbed with energy. Calla drank it in, letting it and the music pour through her and wash away the past few weeks. The full moon added another dimension, a crackle in the air, a buzzing in the blood. Nightshade smoke wafted through the air but didn’t overwhelm it. Anticipation for the midnight esbat filled her with a giddy relief. The sabbats she could generally take or leave, but she loved the esbats.

  The music downshifted to a softer rhythm. Threading her way through the crowd on the dance floor, she made her way to the bar and bought a bottle of water. Across the wide circular expanse she spotted Nate raising a drink to his lips. He appeared to be alone. Wanting to leave him that way but remembering what Vadim said, she slipped around to his side. He saw her just before she got within earshot.

  “You working another case? I know some people who could use the money.”

  It took him several seconds to answer. “I’m off the clock until Monday morning.”

  “So you decide to come slumming?” She regretted the words immediately. He might have been a Normal and a cop, but he didn’t deserve her contempt.

  “No,” he said, stepping closer. “I came looking for you.”

  Even in the loud club the timbre of his voice reached a deep part of her she’d been keeping under lock and key, lighting it up with a different kind of energy. The pulsing lights reflected in his eyes and alternately revealed and shadowed the angles of his face.

  He said, “Dance with me.”

  “That’s a really bad idea.” Dancing with him would make her forget she needed information from him. Dancing with him would bring them in contact again, make her want things she couldn’t have. No, definitely not a good idea.

  “Do it anyway.” He took her water bottle and left it with his drink on the bar, then grabbed her hand and pulled her into the throng of dancers.

  The music had changed again, into a slinky rhythm that invited touch. Responding to that invitation, he placed his hands on her hips and dragged her body against his. He wants to push, I can push back. Calla slapped his hands away and turned her back to him. Fitting herself to his body, she teased with every tight circle of her hips against him. He kept her close with one hand on her abdomen, his body swaying with hers. Leaning her head back against his chest, she met his eyes briefly before looking away.

  The music took a dive into a dirty groove. Calla kicked up the shimmy of her hips, sliding up and down his front. Grabbing her roughly, Nate spun her around, one hand on her neck, the other at the small of her back. Then his mouth was on hers and she twined her hands around his neck to pull herself up.

  He kissed her like he w
as starving for it. She met his hunger with her own, wanting to brand him with it. Wanting to shut out the voice telling her to stop. She’d do a lot to help the people hiding in the tunnels, but not this. This, she wanted for herself.

  She teased with the tip of her tongue, tasting tequila and salt on his. Crushed against the solid mass of his body, the hammering of his heart outpaced her own, pounding into her senses along with the music. Magic stirred deep within her. Would he be receptive to that or would it frighten him? Perhaps even disgust him? She had no intimate experience with Normals. He was certainly receptive to something, if the evidence of his arousal was anything to go by. She ground herself against that arousal, reveling in the heat of his body.

  Nate broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I came here to dance.” She wanted him and she knew it. Why was she balking?

  He bent lower, his lips trailing down her throat. “What I’ve got in mind’s a kind of dance.”

  It would be good, too, so very good. Losing herself in him for a night would be bliss. The thought of the morning after kept her in check, though. If he were Magic Born she’d drag him out the door and back to her place in a minute and not worry. Pleasure was no sin in the zone.

  But she’d known too many Magic Born who took the same attitude with Normals only to have it thrown in their faces afterward. She didn’t think Nate would be like that, but then she really didn’t know him that well.

  She placed her hands on his upper arms and pushed away. “That’s tempting, but—”

  He silenced her with another scorching kiss. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

  This time she pushed hard, breaking contact. “Well, you can’t have me tonight. See you around, asshole.” She all but ran away, hiding in the crowd.

  * * *

  Nate swore. He hadn’t meant to spook Calla like that. The moment she’d sidled up next to him at the bar his brain had decided to stop working. The red lace camisole that clung to her like a second skin revealed just enough to make him salivate. From the way she’d danced, he’d thought she wanted him too. He still thought that, but something had made her hold back. Probably him coming on too strong. That wasn’t like him, but neither was falling this hard this fast. When he’d told her he’d wanted her since the first time he saw her, he’d been telling the truth. No matter how much he tried to tell himself his interest in her was only in how she might help him with the Forbes case, there was no denying the truth of his dreams about her.

  A guard he recognized from his first visit to the club approached. Nate tensed, ready for a fight. The guard jerked a thumb toward the upper level. “Boss wants to see you.”

  “Why?”

  The guard shrugged, not impressed with Nate’s belligerence. Perturbed, Nate followed. The smoke in the office was even heavier tonight. Vadim’s eyes were bloodshot from it. He reclined in a chaise lounge on the far side of the room with a drink in one hand and a fat cigarette in the other. From the smell it wasn’t tobacco. He waved the joint at the chaise lounge on the opposite side of a small round table. “Take a load off, Detective.”

  Nate remained standing. “What do you want?”

  “Just a friendly chitchat. And to offer you a drink to help with that terrible case of blue balls our girl gave you.” With a smirk he inclined his head toward the bank of security monitors.

  Nate swore again but dropped into the lounge. Vadim set his drink on the table and poured another, passing it to Nate.

  The green liquid bubbled in the glass. Eying it with suspicion Nate said, “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s a sort of poor man’s homemade absinthe. Never mind what’s in it—just drink it.”

  It smelled like licorice—not the worst thing—but that color was not the color of something that should be consumed. “Is this going to make my organs shrivel up or something?”

  Vadim sipped his own drink. “You’re going to have to be more adventurous than that to keep Calla’s interest.”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “She’s my friend, Detective. Has been since she was a kid. I look out for my friends.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I don’t think she...I don’t think she likes me enough for you to worry, let’s put it that way.”

  “On the contrary, Nathan. Can I call you Nathan?” He waved a hand, sending pot smoke into Nate’s face. “I’m going to call you Nathan. Nathan, it’s like this. Calla doesn’t get involved with Normals. Ever. She’ll speak to them when she has to. She’ll sell her jewelry to them. But she doesn’t get friendly with them, and she damn sure doesn’t do what she did with you on my dance floor.”

  “Is it really that much of a taboo, someone like her dating someone like me?”

  “A Magic Born dating a Normal?” Vadim laughed. “That depends on your definition of dating.” Nate gave him a confused look. Vadim said, “Most mixed relationships are about sex or commerce or both. Like the Normals who come here to pretend they’re rebels or whatever—they want the kinky thrill of magic sex.” He flexed his fingers for emphasis. “They don’t want a relationship, Nathan. Or if they do, they want a paid paramour. A little exotic extra on the side. That’s not something Calla would ever do. I hope you’re smart enough to know that.”

  “I do know it. That’s not what I want with her.”

  “Then what do you want? If you don’t mind my asking.” Vadim looked like he couldn’t care less if Nate did mind.

  Nate wasn’t sure he could answer. He wanted her in his bed, yes. He wanted her out of bed too. He wanted to know who she was. He wanted to earn seeing her with her natural hair color. He wanted to earn her smiles and laughter, to make her feel safe enough to lower the walls she’d built with attitude and a sharp tongue. He wanted to make her feel the way he felt in her presence, alive and a little dizzy and full to bursting with something he couldn’t name.

  No way was he sharing all that with Vadim. “I just want to be with her.”

  Vadim snorted. “What the hell does that even mean? She can’t spend more than eighteen consecutive hours off zone so you can forget sexy weekend getaways. Every well-to-do restaurant in town has a No Magic Born sign on the door, so forget about romantic evenings out. I guess you could take her to the movies, but shit, that’s boring. And forget about things getting serious. She can’t live with you. You can’t live with her unless you give up your citizenship. She can never marry. If she gets pregnant, the baby will be restricted to the zone just like she is, even if the kid’s Normal. You can’t have a life with her, period. She knows that. You need to know it too.”

  Nate thought of the coffee shop Calla couldn’t enter and the look on her face. Everything Vadim said was true. It didn’t change how Nate felt one bit. He stared at the drink in his hand, then Vadim, before he took a swig of the green stuff, choking on the sweet flavor. “You want me to stay away from her.”

  “Never said that. I just want your eyes open is all. You haven’t lived here long. You don’t know what it’s like.” He paused to take another hit off the joint. “Some of you Normals are such self-righteous pieces of garbage. The ones like that, they act like they’re afraid of us and they are, but they’re jealous too. They’re scared of us and they don’t understand us, but they still want what we’ve got, they just don’t want to admit they want it, so they keep us penned up like cattle and treat us like we’re less than human. Then there’s the ones like you, so naïve and so fucking clueless. You didn’t grow up in a zone city so you never bothered to learn about us. No surprise there. Most Normals don’t even know their own heritage. Screw learning somebody else’s.”

  That one taste of the green booze hit Nate hard, but not hard enough that he could follow Vadim. He took another drink. “What are you talking about now? You’re not making any sense
.”

  “Perez,” Vadim spat. “Do you even speak Spanish?”

  The colors of the room were bleeding a little around the edges. “No. So what?”

  “You don’t know where you come from. If you don’t know that, how the hell can you figure out where you’re going? We’re not allowed to know anything about our birth families, but that doesn’t stop us from crafting our own identities. My adopted mother gave me a Russian name, taught me Russian literature and composers and history. She did it because it was something that resonated with her, and she wanted to give me some kind of heritage. Not just our collective Magic Born heritage. It’s not uncommon for that to happen.”

  “But you!” Vadim stabbed the air in Nate’s direction with the joint. “You’re a blank slate because that’s what they want you to be. So they can tell you what to do. So many of you Normals, you just do what’s expected of you. It’s like you don’t have the imagination to do otherwise. Fuck, no wonder you come to Sinsuality. You people live in a black and white world. You come here for color.”

  Somewhere in there, Nate had finished his drink. He set the glass on the table and stood, wobbling a bit. “You are both drunk and stoned and you’re not making any sense.”

  “So are you! If you remember any of this after you sober up, you’ll see I’m right.”

  “I need some fresh air.” Nate headed for the door.

  Vadim left his glass and joint on the table and followed. “It’s time for the esbat. You should stay and watch.”

  “For the what?”

  Vadim clapped him on the back. “It’s a full moon, Nathan. Tonight we dance with the Goddess.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Nate followed Vadim out of the office to a metal gangplank overlooking the dance floor. Tiny shimmering red lights on the floor were the only illumination. Vadim pointed to an area next to one of the pillars holding up the metal. “You watch from over there. It’ll keep you out of the spotlight but you’ll still be able to see everything.”