Burn (TimeBend Book 2)

by Ann Denton

  Lowe’s mind was like a record stuck in a scratch. Blut and Nal. It can’t be a coincidence. Were they meeting together?

  “Maybe Blut was sick,” offered Fell, immune to Lowe’s inner monologue. “Scarlet fever or something.”

  He didn’t look sick.

  Fell sighed, and her face settled into a disgruntled expression she wore when someone wasn’t doing their job.

  He almost didn’t want to ask. “What?”

  She pushed her lips together and shook her head, a small, exasperated gesture. “Daud should’ve remained priority on that mission anyway. Not the mucking kid. If Blut’s job was just to kill on sight, he might not have …”

  “Fell,” Lowe said slowly. She wasn’t breaking any rules saying this but speaking against Tier’s judgment was asking for trouble.

  But she had a point. Making that kid a priority changed the mission drastically. It wasn’t a matter of locating and eliminating an asset. It became a mission for a savior.

  “Saving people is harder than killing them,” Fell reminded him of one of the earliest lessons she’d taught him.

  “Because a beating heart wants pretty endings and happy lies …” Lowe recited dully. “But I don’t think Blut was the only person looking for that kid.”

  Fell raised her eyebrows.

  I might as well get some other theories. Other than everyone in the whole damn world is turning Erlender. Lowe leaned over and picked up the photograph he’d found of the auction block. He pointed at the tall, burly figure at the top. “That’s Nal. One of President Stahl’s personal guards.”

  Fell took the picture. “How do you know?”

  Lowe shrugged, leaning against the ropes. “Ran into him before.” Partial truth. He ran into me.

  “Stahl sent someone to check up on us? Well that explains a little. Tier was leaning on Blut.” She gestured at the picture. “This probably freaked Blut the muck out. I mean, the President watching your every move? Tier should’ve known better.” Fell shook her head and sucked on her cheek. “No wonder Blut mucking cracked.”

  Is that it? Was that why Nal was there? Relief flooded Lowe’s system. It was like air screaming out of a compressor. His muscles had been tense, tight, worried. And now all the pressure was gone. He would have sunk to the floor if it wouldn’t have made Fell suspicious. Of course. That’s so much more reasonable. You’re ridiculous. Seeing shadows, Lowe scolded himself.

  Fell sighed, and her expression softened. “Tier’s leaning on you too,” she said. “Mucking idiot’s lost his edge. He’s spreading rumors about Mala.”

  “What?” The fear came back, like it had never left.

  “She terrifies him.” Fell shook her head. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d ever grow to be a biased man. But this … even if she is Klaren’s kid, and there’s no mucking proof either way … he’s talking like she’s the mucking reincarnation,” she scoffed.

  Lowe looked at the ropes in front of him. I don’t need this. Mala. Stelle. It’s already too much. Now mucking Tier … Lowe had never been the Ancient’s biggest fan. He looked back up at Fell. “When’s that election for High Ancient again?”

  She barked out a laugh. “Not soon enough. Don’t worry. I’ve got plans for your favor.” Fell winked.

  “At least that’s something to look forward to.”

  “Watch our girl for us, okay? Don’t let that muckhead make her feel like a problem, when she’s a damn solution.”

  Lowe nodded.

  “Well,” said Fell, as they reached the next floor, “I’ve got shit to do. You alright here?”

  “Yeah,” said Lowe.

  Fell pried the doors apart. Then she turned and touched his shoulder. “He won’t be in charge forever. I’ve almost got the votes wrapped up. He’d need a miracle or a disaster to keep that seat.”

  “Don’t jinx us.”

  Fell’s eyes widened in mock distress. “You’re right. I better go burn some herbs and sacrifice a kitten.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lowe kept his hand on the small of Mala’s back as he led her through the cafeteria. He ignored the panoramic windows where most the Kreis gathered to watch the fish. Instead, he steered Mala toward a dingy corner at the back of the cafeteria, where half the neon lights were burnt out and most of the plastic tables were empty.

  He saw everyone waiting at their usual two tables just ahead. Beza and his mom sat at one table and Dez sat at another a few feet away, an untouched plate of food in front of her.

  With all the protocol regarding Kreis and Typicals keeping their distance from one another, it was the best Lowe and Beza could do. So long as they kept the conversation low and family dinner wasn’t a regularly occurring event, nobody seemed to give them too hard a time about mixing. On the Kreis side of things, anyway.

  Beza’s little face beamed up at Lowe and mouthed, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  Lowe pretended to glare at the boy as he helped Mala into her seat. He muttered back at Beza. “K-I-C-K-I-N-G.”

  Beza just laughed at the empty threat.

  Dea leaned forward and whacked Beza on the head. “Behave.” She shook her greying head at her son.

  Lowe smirked, but Beza didn’t seem dissuaded in the least.

  “Lowe, are you gonna introduce your girlfriend or what?” Beza demanded.

  That little midget shit.

  Mala turned tomato-red beside him. Dea and Dez smiled.

  “Sorry about Beza,” Dea muttered. “You’d think I’d raised him with Erlenders, he’s got no manners.” She gave Mala a respectful nod from her table. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  Dez leaned forward, her grin wide. She shook Mala’s hand over the table. “It really is. And anytime you need mud on Lowe, let me know. I’ve got some great stories.”

  “You’re making me regret agreeing to this dinner already,” Lowe groaned.

  Mala laughed. And that was all it took for Lowe’s opinion of dinner to turn around. That sound. It shot sunshine through his veins. He had to fight a grin, as Dez’s cheshire smile grew even wider. She raised her eyebrows, taunting him.

  Lowe tried to change the subject. “Haven’t seen you in a while, stranger.” He nodded toward Dez. “You didn’t show up in the memorial room after your last mission. And you got assigned to the Comm department.”

  Dez grimaced. She clearly preferred teasing him over discussing her new assignment.

  “Too good for your friends, huh?”

  Dez wrung her hands below the table. “I know. I’m sorry. I—”

  Whatever she was about to say was cut off as Alba, Mala’s ditzy eighty-something roommate, flounced down next to him.

  “Whew! Sorry I’m late. The Costume Shop just got in some amazing leather skirts, apparently the newest rage in savage land.”

  Lowe forcefully shoved away any image of Alba’s wrinkled legs in short Erlender skirts. A sixteen-year-old Kreis, she’d had a meltdown a few months ago that had put her into her eighty-year-old body. She hadn’t been able to melt back since. Unfortunately, she’d been assigned as Mala’s bunkmate, so Lowe had seen more than his fair share of Alba’s wrinkled legs.

  Mala smiled across him at Alba. “No worries. We haven’t been here long. Dez was about to tell us—”

  “Hey! Well look at this cozy little party. I didn’t know you were this close to your ex. Family dinner, huh?”

  Lowe turned to see Verrukter. Standing next to him, a lethal frown on her gorgeous lips was Neid. Neid was Ein’s sister, the only Typical to ever become Kreis. She had a figure that made her a source of every guy’s fantasy. And an attitude that made her the source of every guy’s nightmare. Right now, the nightmare side of her personality was winning.

  Glad it’s him, Lowe thought, as she stared daggers at Verrukter.

  Next to Lowe, Alba stood. “Ex? Oh no. Unless he broke up with me when I left this morning. Did we break up, honey?”

  Verrukter’s eyes flashed back and forth between the two women. He looked
at Lowe, eyes pleading. Stab me now, they said.

  Lowe turned further in his chair. He leaned back against the table to enjoy the show.

  “Didn’t know you had a geriatric fetish,” Dez called out.

  “Hey, kid here,” Dea reprimanded from the next table over.

  “What’s a fetish?” Beza asked the group at large.

  Alba smacked Lowe.

  “Hey, I didn’t say it.”

  “You were about to laugh.”

  “So was everyone.” Lowe rubbed the side of his head.

  “You know, I think she might be a better fit for you,” Neid said and turned away. Verrukter reached for her arm and she yanked it back.

  “I’m not like her, V. I don’t play games. I’m not cheap and easy.”

  “Who said anything about cheap?” Alba interjected.

  “I can’t believe I even thought—forget it. You’re not worth it.” Neid stormed off.

  Verrukter stared after her. Slowly he turned back to the table, eyes on Alba. “Who invited you?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Mala,” Alba tossed her grey ponytail.

  “Well, you’re uninvited. No liars at family dinner.”

  With a hmmph, the old woman pushed Verrukter aside and stomped off. He sank into her seat and put his head in his hands.

  Dez turned in her seat to Verrukter. She kicked him under the table. “Alba was lying? Why didn’t you just tell Neid?”

  Verrukter shrugged, half-heartedly. “Really think she would have believed me?”

  “No.”

  He sighed and set his head on the table.

  Lowe raised his eyebrows at Dez. She gave a shrug. It was not like Verrukter to be upset about his conquests.

  “You know,” Mala’s timid voice crept across the table. “If you got Neid back here, I could tell her that I know for a fact my roommate was in our hut all night.”

  Verrukter’s head shot up. “Alba’d be ticked at you.”

  Mala shrugged. “I know. If she finds out. But a lie’s a lie, right?”

  Verrukter shot out of his seat and was across the cafeteria before Lowe could blink.

  Dea and Beza laughed.

  “I think he likes that girl.”

  “Don’t know why,” Lowe muttered.

  Dez smiled. “He needs someone to put him in his place.”

  Mala grinned next to him. “I think you’re right.”

  The table settled down after that. Everyone ate for a few minutes in relative silence. Only a chuckle breaking through here and there acknowledged the disaster that was Verrukter’s love life.

  “So, Dez, you’d wanted to say something?” Lowe resumed their conversation through a mouthful of noodles.

  Dez paled a little. She slowly finished her bite and set down her fork. “I … It’s just hard to say. Um … my last mission didn’t go so well.”

  Lowe heard the tremor in her voice. Dez was not shy like Mala. “What’s not so well?”

  Dez bit her lip. Slowly she raised both of her arms. The right hand, the one she’d shaken Mala’s hand with, the one she’d been eating with, was fine. The left hand was gone. All that was left was a nasty pink stump.

  “What happened?”

  “Boat motor,” Dez gazed at the stump sadly. “Miscommunication. Zufall got orders to move. Thought I’d already climbed back onboard.”

  Lowe simply stared at her in horror. In sympathy.

  Dez gave a little shrug. “I’ve been trying to come to terms. So yeah, hospital. Then avoiding everyone for awhile. Did you know, when you melt older, your lost body parts stay lost? But if I melt to a kid, I get my hand back? Who wants to be eight again though, right?”

  “Hey!” Beza flicked a pea at her. Dez gave a weak grin.

  “How’d you figure that out?” Lowe didn’t want to drag this conversation out. He wanted to change the topic. He wanted to get up and hug Dez. But she seemed to want to talk. So he’d give her want she wanted.

  “Ein figured it out,” Dez responded.

  “Oh.”

  Awkward silence descended.

  “You mean Ein the mud-eating, bottom-crawling tapeworm?” Mala tried to lighten the mood.

  Dez gave her a grim smile. “He’s a piece of work, huh?”

  “He’s been dunking me in ice water to try to get me to melt.”

  Dez’s eyes bulged a bit. “Yeah, I would punch him for that.”

  “Considering it,” Mala replied.

  The girls proceeded to complain about Ein, spurred on by the regular interjections from Beza.

  Lowe sat back. Dez won’t go back in the field, he thought. It made him sad. The end of her career. But he could see it in her eyes. The confident swagger was gone. When you lose that, you’re done. If you recognized it, like Dez did, you looked for an assignment like Comm. If you didn’t …

  Dez threw a piece of food at him. Splat. Fish smell exploded in Lowe’s nose. “Gross,” he wiped the slime from his cheek.

  “No pity parties over there.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  But Mala betrayed him. “You kinda were.”

  Lowe went into denial mode. Unlike Verrukter, he knew what to do when two females were ganging up on him: Deny. Deny. Deny. “I was just wishing Konner had anything useful to say about Klaren’s melts earlier.”

  “He didn’t?” Beza asked, his mouth full. “That’s weird. When I went by there later, the wheezers were all talking about Klaren.” He shoved another bite into his mouth and continued, “Used to terrorize all the Typicals. Have Konner bring him newbies, or kids or something. Then he’d melt in front of them, in the Archive.”

  Everyone turned to look at Beza.

  “In the Archive?” Lowe asked, skeptically. “Why?”

  “Dunno.” Beza grabbed his cup and took a long drink, oblivious to all the adults staring at him.

  “That’s it?” Lowe asked.

  “Yup.”

  That still doesn’t tell me a damn thing! Lowe felt like pounding his head against the table. Konner had withheld stuff from him. Clearly Klaren had melted a lot in the Archive. He’d have seen stuff. Maybe seen Klaren test his melts. But he wasn’t gonna share with a Kreis. That wasn’t likely to change.

  And Lowe was no closer to figuring out how Mala melted. Which meant he was no closer to getting back into the field. His mind flashed to the radio, shoved into a pocket of the vest he wore over his wetsuit. His fist wandered to touch it. And it buzzed in his hands.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lowe sprang up from his seat. “I think I’m gonna—” He covered his mouth with his hand and sprinted out the cafeteria. But he didn’t stop at the restroom. He kept running until he hit the hidden service staircase at the end of the hall.

  I’m coming. Don’t leave. Be okay. His mind alternated between shouting commands and issuing pleas to the buzzing little radio in his pocket.

  Panting, Lowe reached the top floor of the Center, where the docking station was. He skidded to a halt in front of one of the submarines. The Typical dockworker, a burly middle-aged man, raised an eyebrow but just handed Lowe a key when it became clear Lowe couldn’t speak.

  Climbing into the sub, Lowe shut the hatch and turned on the engine, then pretended to check dials as he pulled the little two-way radio out. The buzzing had stopped, but he pressed the call button.

  “Where have you been?” Stelle didn’t even bother with the passcode.

  “You’re alive! I’ve been trying to reach you. Radioing every day for weeks.”

  “I’ve been out. You haven’t dropped anything at the drop points. The meeting place is untouched. You’ve given me nothing. Where have you been?”

  “I … at our base.”

  A long pause let Lowe know this answer was unacceptable. Stelle’s rage heated his neck.

  “Did you receive new orders? Have you been replaced?”

  “No.”

  He could hear her breathe through the connection. Trying to calm herself. Trying n
ot to explode. “I would really appreciate not dying. Do you think you can help with that?”

  “I can help,” Lowe assured her.

  “Are you sure? Because you haven’t left any father mucking information for me!”

  Compunction drilled a hole through his chest. “I will. Meet me near Sonne Pointe tomorrow.”

  He tossed down the radio and ran his hands through his hair. Nothing was going right. But it was time to make something out of nothing.

  For half a second, Lowe considered going back to family dinner and making some excuse. But he decided against it. Instead, headed back inside, tossing the submarine key back to a very confused dock worker. He made for a manual elevator and pulled himself deeper into the hidden compound under the water.

  The Center’s lowest floors were cold in the summer. As fall was overtaken by winter, the floors became downright frigid. Lowe’s toes curled in his boots as he stood just outside the door to Tier’s quarters. He shifted on his frozen feet uncomfortably, waiting for the Ancient to acknowledge him.

  A voice rose inside. “Not even trying!”

  Lowe recognized Ein’s tone. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. Perfect timing. Perfect.

  The door to Tier’s office burst open, Ein ready to stomp out. But Ein stopped upon seeing Lowe.

  “Did you come here to report anything?” Ein demanded, as if he were authorized to give Lowe orders.

  Lowe simply raised an eyebrow at him. The men squared off, fuses short, sparking, about to ignite.

  “Get in here. Both of you.” Tier ordered from his desk.

  Ein broke eye contact first, giving a dismissive snort as he turned back to the Ancient.

  Lowe sighed and followed Ein into Tier’s room, carefully shutting the door behind him. He glanced once at the tall ceilings and light grey walls. The ceilings were angled and there were unnecessary arches throughout the space—an attempt to compensate for the lack of windows at the lowest levels. A white stripe of light outlined the wavering contours of the ceiling. It might have been intended to look like sunlight, but all it did was highlight the coffee-colored condensation stains that had gathered in the century it had been used—as a hotel and then a military stronghold.