by Sonya Clark
Turning his blistering gaze on Calla, he demanded, “What in the ever loving fuck have you done?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Calla scrambled to Nate’s side and checked his pulse. Too erratic. “He needs a healer!”
“He needs to be as far away from here as possible!” Vadim shouted.
“They tried to kill him! They doped him with nightshade and left him to die.”
“Who’s they?” Vadim shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t care. You get him out of here!”
“They’re searching for him!” Calla looked up at Vadim, pleading with every part of her. “If we don’t help him he’ll die!”
Vadim knelt, grabbing her chin. “Kiddo, it’s not just FreakTown his presence here threatens. It’s all of us, all over this fucking country.”
Pushing his hand away, she said, “He won’t tell. I know he won’t.” She believed it too. “I’ll figure out a way to make him safe without compromising the railway.”
“How are you going to manage that? You’ve compromised the railway just by bringing him here!”
“I won’t let him die.” A dark current of energy spooled inside her, eager to lash out. Her fingertips crackled with electricity.
Vadim stared. “Listen to reason, Calla! You can’t risk so many people over one man.”
“I will risk any and everything for this one man!” She tented her fingers on the concrete, blue-white lines of power arcing between them. “You either help me or you get out of the way.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind! Think about what you’re doing. What you’re asking me to do!”
“I know what I’m asking.”
Vadim cut her off sharply. “Do you? You stood with me in my office and we practically agreed to sacrifice Nelson Santo to keep this railway safe.”
Calla shook her head. “No!”
“Yes! For all intents and purposes, that’s what we did. You know it, I know it. Don’t fucking kid yourself. What makes this man worth more?” He stabbed a finger in Nate’s direction. “Just because you love him? The Santos love their son, too.”
Tears came unbidden and unwanted, rolling down her cheeks as a heavy sob wrenched loose. Vadim was right. She was being selfish and unfair and putting all of them in danger, but she didn’t care.
No—she did care, but she would do it anyway. “I can’t let him die. I won’t.” She wiped the tears from her face and met Vadim’s hard, unflinching gaze. “I know what’s at stake. I do. The thing is, I don’t care. I’m sick of making sacrifices, sick of hiding. Letting Normals tell us who we are.”
Scorn twisted Vadim’s face. “Oh shut up, Calla! Saving one man isn’t going to change things.”
“You’re full of shit! What are you doing down here, if you really believe that? You run the FreakTown way station. You put your own money into it—you pour yourself into working magic for it. Every time someone passes through here on their way to the next station, they’re on their way to salvation. One at a time, five at a time. The numbers don’t matter. If you don’t believe in saving people, why are you here?”
Vadim balled his hand into a fist, touching a knuckle to his lower lip. The hard lines of his face settled into a mask. “Fuck you.” He moved to where he could lift Nate by the shoulders. “Fuck your boyfriend too. Now get his legs.”
Relief poured through Calla and she scrambled to comply.
As soon as they had Nate inside, Vadim lowered him and shut the door, sealing it with a quick spell. When he turned to leave, Calla grabbed his hand. “Where are you going?”
“To get help,” he snapped, all angry sarcasm. “He’s too damn big. I’m not throwing my back out for your boyfriend.” He yanked his hand away and left.
Calla turned her attention to Nate. His pulse was slower but his breathing was uneven, his skin an unhealthy pasty gray. He was beyond what little quick-fix she was capable of. She sat, positioning his head in her lap so he wouldn’t have to be on the hard concrete. Smoothing his short hair, which was soaked with sweat and sticking up at odd angles, she dropped a light kiss on his lips, then more on his cheeks. She didn’t realize she was crying until she saw the tears fall on his face.
Vadim returned with Zinnia and a male volunteer. He must have warned them, because neither said a word, though Zinnia threw her a sympathetic look. Within minutes they had Nate settled on a bed in one of the partitions. Vadim sent the male volunteer to get a healer who would be able to cleanse the nightshade from Nate’s system, then made to leave himself.
“I’m going to make arrangements to get everybody cleared out as soon as possible.”
Calla nodded but said nothing.
Vadim flexed his hands, tension in every line of his body. He bit his lip as he watched her, then gathered himself and seemed to come to a decision. “You need to know. I’ll back you on this as long as none of our people get hurt. That starts happening, you and your man are on your own.”
She looked at him. “You’d turn me out?”
He swallowed, looked away for a moment, then met her eyes. “I have to think about more than you. I’m sorry but it’s just how it is.”
In his place she knew she’d make the same decision. “I understand. You gotta do what you have to do. I just hope you understand it’s the same for me.”
“I do.” He was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “Zinnia, do you mind staying with Detective Perez? Calla needs to go back the way she came and badge back into the zone.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Zinnia took Calla’s hand. “I’ll stay with him until you get back. Make sure the healer takes good care of him.”
Calla hadn’t even considered the need to go back out and return to the zone legally. The thought of leaving Nate made her gut twist, but she had no choice. Better to do it now under cover of night than put it off. She removed the tablet from her pocket and handed it to Zinnia. “Can you hold on to this? It’s his. I don’t want to risk getting caught with it.”
Zinnia took it, then dragged a chair close to the bed. “Don’t worry about anything. Just go and get back.”
Calla kissed Nate’s forehead, hand trailing over his arm as she forced herself to move away.
Vadim escorted her to the door. “This is why I don’t believe in love. It makes you do phenomenally stupid crap like this.”
There’d been a time when she would have agreed with him. Too tired to argue, she just said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Watch yourself,” he said as he closed the door.
She stood for a moment, staring without seeing. Had this really happened? How the hell was she going to set things right? The temptation to leave, take the railway out of FreakTown and out of the country, was almost too great. That might get freedom for her and Nate, but what would they leave in their wake? Would Beckwith keep searching? That could bring down the railway, and despite what she’d implied to Vadim she wouldn’t cause that.
And what was the senator protecting that was worth killing over? Something that important would make some damn good leverage, if she could just find out what it was.
Pushing aside her exhaustion, Calla took off at a fast walk. Planning would come later. Right now she had to do this and get back to Nate. Traveling the route without a large, sick man leaning on her took far less time. Sometime before dawn she badged back into the zone at the gate by Sinsuality. She didn’t get three feet from it before DMS uniforms grabbed her.
She’d expected that, so she had no trouble staying calm, not even bothering to ask the uniforms what she was being brought in for. They wouldn’t tell her anyway. Enough people saw it happen that Vadim would know within minutes.
The inside of Admin was poorly lit this time of early morning, shadows casting the place in an industrial gloom. Calla was left in a gray interrogat
ion room that held two chairs and a table. The uniforms didn’t bother to cuff her. Sitting cross-legged on the table, she put her head in her hands and hoped this bullshit wouldn’t take too long. Usually they liked to leave people in the box a while, make them nervous and off-balance. Maybe she could get in a nap.
Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the door to open and an agent to enter. It was Grant, looking smug with his chest puffed out. Rolling her eyes, she said, “What, no coffee? The service in this place sucks.”
The backhand caught her completely off guard. Pain exploded in her cheek and spread to the rest of her face, and her eyes watered as she tumbled from the table. She struggled to right herself but he advanced too quickly, looming over her as she dragged herself away from him.
“Watch your fucking mouth, bitch.” He smiled, clearly having his best day in a while. “Your cop fuck buddy’s not here to protect you.”
Cold fear trickled through her bloodstream. The agents could be rough, sure, but something in Grant’s face scared her. She’d been called names, pushed, shoved, had her apartment searched more than once, but no agent had ever hit her. Someone like her who stayed below the radar was usually left alone. She’d pinged Grant’s radar though, and he wanted to make her hurt for it.
A quick glance around the room showed her there were no cameras, not that she really thought she could count on anyone helping. Of course she had a weapon—the current amping up in her nervous system—but that would give him license to kill her.
“Agent Grant,” she said between clenched teeth. “Why am I here?”
The presumed show of respect seemed to please him. He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her with a nasty grin. “You’re not so tough, are you, Vesper? You just need someone to keep you in line. Is that what your cop does? Keep you in line?”
Calla swallowed bile, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress the electric magic that wanted to light this bastard’s hair on fire.
“What’s he do to keep you in line? Huh, Vesper? What’s he do to keep that mouth of yours from talking? ‘Cos I think I’d like your mouth a whole lot better if you didn’t talk.”
Consequences be damned, if he made one wrong move, she was going to shock him. The decision was somehow freeing even knowing what might come later. She was just so damn tired of keeping herself locked up. With a sweet smile, she said, “Nothing you’ve got could keep my mouth busy enough to keep me from talking.”
Grant’s face went red, then purple. Sputtering a string of curse words that didn’t make sense, he stepped toward her. Calla flexed her hand, ready.
The door swung open, and someone she didn’t recognize entered the tiny room. “Agent Grant, thank you for bringing Miss Vesper in. I’ll take it from here.”
“Uh-uh, you don’t have jurisdiction here unless we say so! So go back to the city where you belong.”
The older man sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Chief Decker is in your administrator’s office discussing the matter. I’m sure they’d love to get your take on things.”
Calla glanced between the two of them, gauging the landscape. She didn’t know the cop, but she knew bullies like Grant and they always folded when pushed by someone bigger and badder. The cop might have been older and carrying about forty extra pounds, but he had the air of someone who did not have time for any shit. He watched Grant impassively, as if he already knew he’d won and was waiting for the other man to figure it out.
Eventually Grant got there. “Think I’ll do exactly that. Want me to cuff her before I leave?”
“No, I do not,” said the cop with disdain.
Grant slunk out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The cop sat in the chair closest to the door then gestured at the one on the opposite side of the table. “Would you mind sitting with me, Miss Vesper?”
She got to her feet slowly and moved to the chair. “Who are you?”
“My name is Detective Mullins and I work with Nate Perez. He’s the reason I want to talk to you.” He had short, silvery gray hair that contrasted sharply with ebony skin and an avuncular air that didn’t fool her for a minute. This guy was no idiot like Grant. She’d have to watch what she said.
“So am I under arrest or what?”
“No, not at all. When’s the last time you saw Perez?”
“Earlier today. He came to see me. What’s going on?”
Mullins waved his hands in a calming gesture. “My questions first. To your knowledge, does Perez use nightshade?”
Calla sat back, trying to see where this was going. “No.”
“Are you sure? He’s been spending a lot of time with you. Been going to that club. It’s an easy habit to pick up.”
They were going to try to say she got him hooked. “He doesn’t touch the stuff. I don’t either. You can test me if you want.” Not that she had to give permission for such a thing. They could force a drug test without even a warrant.
“Why did he come to see you today? Did you make plans to see each other later?”
The easiest thing to do would be to stick as close to the truth as possible. “He wanted to get back together.”
Mullins raised his eyebrows. “You two weren’t seeing each other anymore?”
“We broke up a few weeks ago.” She rested her hands on the table, looking at them rather than the cop.
“Why?”
“Why do you need to know this stuff? What’s going on with Nate?”
“Look, I’m not gonna smack you around like that idiot, but I’m not here to play good cop either. You talk to me, you get to go home and ice that cheek. You don’t talk to me, that means you’re refusing to cooperate with an investigation and things go downhill from there. So just answer my questions.” Impatience put an edge in his demeanor, along with what might have been genuine concern for Nate.
It was that possibility of real concern, along with wanting to get the hell out of Admin, that made Calla back off. “I broke up with him because we have no future. You know where I’m coming from, don’t you?”
He frowned, a surprising empathy in his eyes. “Yeah, I do. He never talked about you much but he has seemed different lately. I never thought to ask why.” He shook his head. “So what happened today?”
“He said he missed me. That he wanted us back together. I told him it wouldn’t work. He left.” She shrugged. “That was all, really. It wasn’t a fight or anything. He didn’t leave angry. He even acted like he wasn’t through trying to convince me to get back with him.”
“Did he say where he was going when he left?”
Time for the first real lie. “No. And I didn’t ask.”
Mullins went silent, tapping his forefinger on the table. Calla said, “So can you tell me what’s going on?”
“He was seen in a nightshade den in Riverside last night. There was a report of an altercation between him and another guy. Witnesses say Perez was high.”
“No, Nate doesn’t get high. He’ll drink a little but he doesn’t get high.” It wasn’t hard to fake her own concern, thinking of how bad a shape she’d left him in.
“That’s what we’ve got to go on until we find him. We’ve got a BOLO out on him and I’ve already checked every hospital and clinic in the city. He never made it home. Right now he’s in the wind.” Mullins stared at her, hard.
“I haven’t seen him since he left my place. Did you check Sinsuality?” Vadim would love that.
“Yeah. Would he come to you if he was in trouble?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to imagine him messing with nightshade.”
“Me too,” said the cop. He pulled a business card from his inside jacket pocket. “You have a phone?”
“No, but I have access to one.” She took the card.
“Call me if
he contacts you.”
“Will you arrest him?”
Mullins stood. “As far as we know now, he’s an officer in distress. As long as he doesn’t get out of control that’s how it’ll stay.”
Every cop she’d ever met had a natural instinct to protect their own. Fine, whatever. Calla didn’t care as long as it helped Nate and as long as she got the hell out of DMS. “I’ll call you then, if I hear from him. Will you do the same?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Sure. Sit tight and someone will be along to release you soon. Not Agent Slap Happy, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
He left. Pushing out a deep breath, Calla relaxed, or at least tried to. Whatever was going on, the cops weren’t involved. For that matter the DMS might not be either, or at least not low-level flunkies like Grant. She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
All she wanted now was to get back to Nate. It was time for the two of them to have one hell of a conversation.
Chapter Thirty
The low, musical sound of chanting filtered through Nate’s disjointed dreams. Not sure where he was or how he’d got there, he opened his eyes slowly. Fuzzy light, then the vague suggestion of a person. Nate blinked several times. The chanter was a man, middle-aged and dark haired, his eyes closed and his hands held over Nate’s midsection palms down. Warmth suffused Nate’s body, starting at the point under the chanter’s hands and spreading outward. Gradually the fog in his head began to lift. The weak, drugged sensation from the nightshade evaporated as the spell drew the drug and its effects out of his system, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Nate lay on a cot in a small area surrounded by heavy curtains. The only other person in the room was Calla’s friend Zinnia in a chair nearby. Her mass of curls was scraped back in a ponytail. She sat hunched over a notepad, biting her lip and writing furiously. He was somewhere in FreakTown, brought here by Calla. Riverside, the nightshade den, being drugged, it all came back in a rush. But where was Calla?
Nate raised his hand, barely getting it off the cot. Zinnia noticed the movement and looked up. She smiled, holding a finger against her lips and pointing with her pen at the chanting man. Too tired to do anything else, Nate relaxed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.