by Sonya Clark
The next time he woke, there was no chanting and he felt much more clearheaded. He was also alone. His sweat-stained clothes clung unpleasantly to his skin, reeking of the sickly sweet funk of the nightshade den. Sitting up caused a minor wave of dizziness, but it passed quickly. His phone and tablet sat in the chair formerly occupied by Zinnia. The quiet was disconcerting, too heavy a silence to be comfortable in a strange place. He stood carefully and gathered his belongings, testing his legs with ginger movements until he reached the nearest part in the curtains that passed for walls.
As soon as he opened the fabric, the sound of voices and clattering dishes broke through the unnatural quiet. Startled, he eyed the curtains. Some sort of spell probably. He found himself in a hallway and followed the noise. It led to a makeshift kitchen where breakfast was in full swing and about a dozen people were eating at tables of various sizes. No one gave him a second look. All were young, some clearly family units, and there were even a couple of babies. He noticed bags at the feet of those closest to him, as if they had packed to leave soon. There was a nervous energy in the air that reminded him of prep time before missions in Africa. One person, a young woman who sat alone, had the look too—the look of someone about to lead a mission. A tension in her muscles, a tightness to her eyes and an economy of movement as she ate on auto-pilot. He knew that look well.
Zinnia appeared from behind a partition, carrying a plate of biscuits. Spotting him, she gave him another of her warm smiles and moved through the room offering more food. There was only one left by the time she got to him. Looking at it, he realized he was ravenous.
“Good morning,” she said. “You look much better. Do you feel like eating?”
“God, yes.”
She held up the plate and he took the biscuit. It was a hell of a lot better than anything he’d ever eaten before a mission. He followed her to the cooking area and made a plate, heaping it with eggs, sausage, pancakes and hash browns. “Where’s Calla?”
“She had to go back out so she could badge in and be legal.” Zinnia hesitated. “Vadim said she was picked up for questioning but that she’s fine. He’s got a source inside Admin. She’s not under arrest or anything, they’re just doing their usual dickish thing and holding her longer than necessary.”
“She’s being questioned about me?”
“I think so, but I really don’t think you have to worry.” She patted his arm. “Go eat. You need it.” Pointedly she moved to the sink to begin tackling cleanup.
Nate found an empty table and devoured the food in short order. Flicking his gaze around the room, he took in details about the occupants. The well-manicured hands of one man and the upscale clothing he and his wife and baby wore. Another family’s shabby appearance that contrasted with a scared but hopeful demeanor. One man urged his wife to eat, but she kept shaking her head, a hand on her slightly rounded belly, mumbling something about how it was a myth that morning sickness only happened in the first trimester. Or in the morning for that matter. A single woman struggled to keep her rambunctious toddler corralled as the boy threw his hands in the air, creating a tiny version of the witchlight Nate enjoyed so much at Sinsuality.
As he ate and watched the others, Woman On A Mission kept one wary eye on him.
Vadim entered the room, nodding at the woman as he made his way to Nate’s table. “Glad to see you up and about.”
“Thank you.” Nate set his empty plate to the side. “Any word on Calla?”
“They’ll let her go once the day shift has had their morning coffee and doughnuts. She’s fine. What about you? Looks like Tom did a good job.”
“Tom?”
“The healer. He said the nightshade in your system wasn’t the usual. A bad recipe, or perhaps one with a different purpose. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Nate held up his phone. “I think it was this. Calla put a protection spell on it.”
Vadim chuckled. “Well then. Isn’t that interesting to know.”
“How’s that?” Vadim had been polite so far, but Nate could tell he wasn’t happy. Not hard to guess why.
“It just surprises me, that’s all. How much she’s willing to trust you.”
Nate nodded. “It surprises me too.” He circled his forefinger in the air to indicate the people in the room, who were now starting to clear the tables. “This, for instance.”
“Yes, this,” Vadim said, face unreadable. “Let’s be up front with each other, shall we? While our girl is elsewhere.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“As long as nothing you see here is ever discussed outside of here, I won’t have a problem with you. Calla loves you. I care for her as much as I can anybody, like family. And I trust her judgment.”
“I trust her too. And I do love her, very much.”
“Yeah, that’s nice for you. So don’t fuck it up by forcing me to shut you up. Am I making myself clear?”
“Very. You don’t have to worry.” No matter how things turned out for him, Nate couldn’t imagine betraying these people.
Vadim watched him for a long moment with a hard stare that weighed and measured. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he said, “If you’re done with your breakfast let’s go.”
Nate picked up the plate and stood. “Where to?”
“A different hiding place, one a little easier for Calla to get to. Draw less attention since they’ll most likely keep an eye on her.”
Nate returned his plate to the cleanup area and thanked Zinnia for watching over him. Once back in the main dining area, he saw Vadim deep in conversation with Woman On A Mission. She had a phone in her hand, and Vadim was leaning over to see what she was indicating. He nodded and she stashed the phone in a pocket, then hefted a large backpack onto one shoulder.
“Safe travels, Tuyet,” Vadim said as Nate approached.
“Blessed be,” she replied, leaving quickly.
Nate and Vadim exchanged a glance but no words. Vadim was not the person to ask questions. They left through a set of tunnels, although Nate didn’t think they were the same tunnels he’d arrived through. His memory of the night before was a bit spotty in places. After ten minutes of twists and turns, they arrived in an underground studio apartment. The place was basic but nicer than where they’d left, with a full-size bed, a small round table and two chairs, a kitchenette and a bathroom. There was also a lingering odor of pot and the sweet scent of Vadim’s homemade absinthe.
Nate said, “This place yours?”
“I don’t live here of course, but it’s a good idea for a man like me to have a place where no one can find him. Or at least not many. Calla’s one of the few who know about it, and Zinnia. They’ll take care of you while you’re here.”
Nate placed his phone and tablet on the table. “There a place I can wash my clothes?”
“One of the ladies will bring you clothes. Food too.”
“How long will I be here?”
Vadim shrugged. “Who knows? Until we figure out what the hell to do with you. Look, I’ll hide you but getting out of this mess is up to you and Calla.” He raised his hands, holding them a foot apart and spread open. “I intend to keep my hands as clean as possible on this.”
From what Nate could tell, the man had his hands in enough dangerous business as it was. “Thank you for this,” he said, gesturing at the room.
“Yeah, just don’t make me regret it.” Vadim left. The edges of the door glowed for a moment afterward. Nate assumed that meant there was some sort of spell on the door, likely to keep him in as well as keep out anyone with no business being there.
He checked the time on his phone. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Calla arrived. They had so much to talk about, so much to figure out. In the tangle of half-remembered fuzzy reality and sharp hallucinations, one thing from the night before burned brightly in hi
s thoughts—the moment she’d told him she loved him.
He needed to hear those words from her lips again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Calla touched her cheek, debating again whether or not to cover the bruise with a glamour. It wasn’t that big a deal and Nate didn’t really need to know. But did she need to enter the conversation they were about to have with a lie? She clutched the bag of clothes tighter and left the bruise alone, continuing on her way.
The door to Vadim’s private hideaway opened with a spell. Stepping inside, she locked up behind her and left the clothes on the table as she walked to the bed. Nate lay sleeping, left arm above his head, a towel around his waist and skin still damp from a shower. His color was much better. Even the scars on his chest seemed a bit smaller, less angry. Vadim had said he’d get a healer. He must have arranged for the best one who worked for the FreakTown way station.
She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Nate. Touching him wasn’t optional though; her hands needed contact with his flesh. His skin was warm beneath her fingers as she placed a hand over his heart. She had no idea when she’d fallen in love with him, or why it had happened. Or for that matter when she’d first felt attraction sizzle in her blood at the sight of him. It made no sense, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it.
As she watched him breathe, she realized that wasn’t true. There were plenty of reasons. His strength for one, and the respect with which he treated her for another. He met her sarcasm and her attitude toe-to-toe, never backing down, always waiting patiently for a chance to slip through her defenses. And he did it every single time, no matter how often she told herself he was a Normal, a cop, someone she could never have any kind of life with. The heart wants what it wants was a tiresome old cliché, but that didn’t make it a lie. It was the absolute truth. Calla’s heart wanted Nate, pure and simple.
But the odds were not in their favor.
Nate began to stir, moving just enough to risk dislodging the towel. Her fingers itched to finish the job, forget about their troubles and all the things they needed to talk about. Getting lost in each other seemed like a damn fine idea.
She moved her hand and placed a kiss over his heart, feeling its powerful rhythm in her lips. Circling a flat nipple with her tongue raised his pulse a notch, the lower half of his body moving restlessly. Smiling, she kissed an erratic path to the top of the towel, brushing her hair against his skin. Once she reached the towel, she scraped her teeth across his skin, then ran her tongue over the slight abrasion. The blunt tips of his fingers kneaded her scalp. She looked up to see him grinning, eyes barely open.
“You can keep right on heading south,” he said, grin widening into a smile.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she teased. “You might not be healthy enough for strenuous activity yet.”
He laughed. “I was just gonna lay here.”
With a mock huff she lifted away from him. He caught her wrists, sitting up and pulling her into his lap. With his lips and tongue he told her just what kind of strenuous activity he was ready for, and he dragged her hips to grind against the erection barely contained by the towel that was seconds away from losing its place.
A slow, sweet honeydrip of pleasure coursed through her, every touch of his skin on hers almost too much to bear. His hands roamed her body and slid under her tank top. One massaged a breast, fingertips plucking the nipple into a hard button through the flimsy material of her bra. His lips traveled from her mouth to her jawline, down her neck then back up.
Suddenly he pulled away. “What happened?”
“What?” He was staring at her cheek, eyebrows drawn together. She said, “Oh, it’s okay. Just a bruise.”
“Who put it there?” There was an uncharacteristic edge to his voice.
Reality returned with an unpleasant snap. She moved away from his lap and sat against the headboard. “Grant. I guess he felt like showing off what a tiny dick he has so he smacked me. I’m fine.”
“Can you file a complaint?”
Calla laughed, genuinely amused by his naiveté. “No, but he won’t get away with it. Believe me when I tell you I have way more friends in the zone than he does. He’ll get his.”
Nate adjusted the towel to cover himself, the mood apparently ruined for him as well. “I hate that kind of unprofessional shit. That’s why people don’t trust cops, because of cops that do shit like that and get away with it.”
“You’re forgetting Grant’s not a cop. Most cops aren’t like you anyway.”
Seating himself beside her, Nate took her hand in his. The simple gesture and the sight of their fingers entwined made Calla’s heart expand. He said, “We need to talk about some stuff, don’t we?”
“Yeah.” They sat in silence for some time, neither wanting to start. Finally, she remembered the clothes. “I brought you some clothes. They’re on the table.”
Nate dressed quickly, choosing jeans and a dark blue T-shirt from the bag. She admired the play of his muscles as he moved. His cop suits didn’t do his body justice.
He said, “So how about for starters we talk about those people I had breakfast with.” He returned to the bed, taking her hand again.
Calla took a deep breath. That actually might have been the easiest, least personal thing they needed to talk about, so they might as well start there. “The railway is...I don’t know how many years old. I think it was just a few people at first, getting out on their own. It got more organized over time.”
“The people getting out, are they unregistered Magic Born?”
“Some of them.” Surprising how she didn’t even flinch at admitting that. “Some just drop out of society and make a run for it.”
“There was a pregnant woman and her partner this morning. Some of the people, they don’t want to risk the DNA test on their kids, right?”
She nodded. “There’s more and more of those. Some aren’t even pregnant yet. They just know they want a family and they don’t want their baby taken from them.”
Nate squeezed her hand. “Why is it called a railway?”
“It’s named after the Underground Railroad—the same reason the guides are called sojourners.”
“What do you do?”
“Make beds. Cook. Help pay for supplies like food and clothes and whatever.” She winked. “Some other stuff.”
“Like what?” he asked with an encouraging smile.
“I help put spells on the burner phones the sojourners use. Also everybody that passes through gets a protective charm from me.”
“I know your protective spells kick ass.”
That was a little too much reality, the possibility that the spell she’d put on his phone might not have worked. “Zinnia said the nightshade they doped you with wasn’t normal. That it was stronger, with different side effects.”
“Vadim mentioned something along those lines. Maybe Forbes was experimenting with weaponizing it. Maybe whoever was working with him just couldn’t get it right.”
“Santo’s a lightweight, magically speaking. You’d think he’d want a stronger witch for experimenting with nightshade.”
“I don’t know exactly what he wanted with Santo. The kid said they wanted the recipe, but who knows if he was telling me the truth or not. Or if he even knew what the doctor really wanted. I can’t get to him anymore and Jenkins won’t talk. I got the distinct impression a combination of threats and bribery were all it took to keep him quiet.”
“Think he’s the one that tipped somebody off and got you doped?”
Nate shook his head. “Maybe. The decision could have already been made. The envelope from Henry was delivered to me at the station. No secrets there.”
With her free hand Calla slapped the bed. “Mullins! A cop named Mullins questioned me at Admin. He said you were spotted at a den in Riv
erside and they have a BOLO out on you because they consider you an officer in distress. So whatever’s been going on with Forbes and Beckwith, it could be they thought the cops were too low-level to be part of it.”
“I never thought they were. Police corruption has a certain smell to it, and I never got a whiff of that with this case. Mostly just the chief wanting to be obsequious to a senator. Mullins say anything else?”
“They think it’s my fault. That I got you hooked maybe. I told him I broke up with you, so now I’m sure they think it’s my fault because of that. He gave me his card and said to call him if you contact me. I think he’s genuinely concerned about you.”
Releasing her hand, Nate rubbed his face. “He’s a decent guy. Old school about some things but decent. A good cop.”
Calla moved to sit facing him. “So Forbes was experimenting, either with or without the sanction of the DMS. Beckwith knows about it. Is he involved or just protecting his friend?”
“I don’t know enough to guess.”
“That night at the arcade, I was going there to log on. You figured that, right?”
He nodded. “I couldn’t figure exactly how you do it, but yeah.”
“With a cable in the empty building behind it. The Magic Born I saw there with Beckwith’s guard, he was like me.”
“What do you mean?”
She considered how to best explain what she meant. “Not all of us can do what I do. Maybe if they worked on it, studied and practiced. But for me the electric magic is natural.” She held up one hand, fingers spread. Blue-white lines of electricity arced between them in a carefully controlled display. “It’s part of how I can access tech like your tablet and your cell phone with magic.”
Nate leaned forward, wonder spreading across his features. Seeing that instead of fear nearly cost Calla her composure. She’d never imagined a Normal or even most Magic Born reacting that way. He touched her arm, skating up to her wrist with a light touch. “Will it shock me?”