by S A McClure
The sour scent of urine and death wafted over her, and she dry heaved again.
“What the hell happened here?” she gasped, clutching at her stomach. She’d seen death. She could still remember the way her parents’ decaying bodies smelled after days of being locked in the same room with them. This was something else.
Something brutal.
The man stood silently at her side, his face impassive. She glanced at him, not really expecting a response. He had been with her when the screaming began. He didn’t cause this, and there was no possible way for him to know what had happened.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she quickly raised the pulser pistol and pointed it towards the dark corner at the back of the room. Her hands were suddenly dry, her mind focused solely on the spot in the corner.
Bones crunched beneath something big. Amber gulped as her finger depressed the trigger. She exhaled just as a stream of light erupted from the gun. It briefly illuminated the room, revealing more desecrated bodies.
A large, dark mass raced away from the high-velocity dart. The man gripped her arm and tugged her into a tight embrace. The mass slammed into Amber’s side as it fled the room and disappeared down the hall. She shoved the man away, firing several shots after whatever had presumably killed these people. One of them struck a reflective mirror and ricocheted into the beast’s leg. There was a grinding noise like metal on metal as the beast faltered.
Closing one eye, she aimed straight at its back. She slid her finger along the power gauge until the shot capacity was at its maximum damage. Exhaling at the same time she pulled the trigger, she watched as the last shot zipped through the air in a blur of bright light. It exploded in a cloud of dust and marble as she missed the target. As the dust settled, it was nowhere to be seen.
Whatever that thing was, it was fast. She spun around to face the man.
“I had it,” she barked.
“No, you didn’t.”
Her shoulders shook as she stared up at him. Her stomach was still tight, and her breathing came in short, quick bursts. She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Don’t get in my way.”
He held up his hands, placating as she stepped into the blood-smeared room. Careful not to step on any of the bits of flesh and bone sprawled across the floor, she searched for any clue as to what the attacker had been. Deep gouges scraped across the walls and floor as if a clawed hand had scratched them. Amber trailed her fingers over the rough metal of one of the cuts.
The sharp edge sliced her finger open, and she hissed. She squeezed her hand tightly and stuck the injured finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding. The pungent copper of her own blood coated her tongue. She stared down at the gouges. She’d never seen marks like these before. And that thing—whatever it was—had been faster than her high-velocity darts. Faster than her ability to manipulate the odds. It was an unsettling realization.
“I’ve called the authorities,” the man said.
Amber whirled on him, her face a tight mask of indifference. “How long until they arrive?” she asked as blankly as she could.
“Soon enough.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the room. She clicked a button on her gun, and a small light clicked on. Moving it back and forth across the walls and floor, she examined the scene. Her stomach continued to roil, but she kept it under wraps. A silvery substance coated the bodies and filled some of the crevices where the walls had been gouged.
She pressed a button on her dress, and a compression box unfolded from a cleverly concealed pocket. She pulled one of the death cards she kept with her and scraped some of the silver substance onto it. Ripping a strip of her dress off, she wrapped the card and substance inside it and slipped it back into her pocket. The compression box folded back up into the size of a silver stud.
“Come on,” she said as she walked past the man. “We can’t stay here.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why not?” he asked, not moving.
She didn’t turn back to look at him as she replied, “Because there’s at least six women in there, all mangled, and we are the only other people back here. I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to bet they won’t believe us when we say we didn’t see anything.”
“But we did see something.”
“Yeah, like they’re going to trust that there was some nondescript monster roaming the casino.” She stopped long enough to glance back at him. “Stay if you want, but I have more important things to do than waste my time talking to the department.”
He hesitated for a moment. She could tell he was struggling to come up with a reason to stay. She didn’t care. There was something killing people in the casino, and she needed to let Morta know. She continued down the hallway.
Footfalls padded behind her. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Follow me. I know where we can go.”
Stones glowed fiery orange in the secret room normally reserved for private parties. Amber sealed the door shut and sent an alert through her chip asking Morta to join them. She leaned with her back against the door and sighed heavily.
The coldness of the door was calming. It grounded her. She closed her eyes and let herself forget, for just a moment, about the torn-to-pieces bodies and the thing loose in the casino.
“Are you alright, Fortuna?” the man, she didn’t know his name yet, asked. He sat on one of the overstuffed couches in the center of the room. His long legs stretched out before him as he gazed at her with a concerned expression on his face.
She blinked at him and smiled. Warmth bubbled within the depths of her stomach. Although her mind wouldn’t stop replaying what she’d seen, it was nice knowing he cared enough to ask how she was. She was too tired to squelch that feeling in the bud. She didn’t have time for romance.
“I’m fine,” she said as she clipped her pulser pistol back into its holster. She walked over to the couch and sat next to him. “So,” she said, picking at a stray thread on the couch cushion, “mind telling me what I should call you?”
He placed a warm hand atop hers. “It’s ok if you’re not alright,” he whispered.
His warm brown eyes had so much light in them that, for a moment, Amber almost trusted him. She jerked her hand out of his and placed it on her hip, right where her pulser pistol was.
“I said I’m fine,” she hissed. A muscle in her eye twitched at the lie, but he didn’t need to know that. No, what he needed to understand was that she was the one in control of this situation.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispered, leaning in close to her. His eyes fell on her lips.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Men were so predictable and, apparently, this one was no different. “Look, if you were hoping to get lucky with me, you would have better odds at the casalarian table.” She stood up and moved to the cooler included in the small bar area. “Now,” she said as she plucked a bottle of wine—the good kind from the Kalvian system—from the cooler and sifted through a drawer until she found a corkscrew. “Tell me your name.”
“Call me J.”
She snorted. “Really? That’s the best name you could come up with?”
He smirked at her. “For the time being.” His brows knit as he leaned towards her and said, “I look forward to learning more about the infamous Fortuna of the Underworld.”
Her jaw fell open at his obviously bad come on. “You’ve got so little game, it’s not even funny,” she said.
He shrugged, leaning back. “Just testing your reactions.”
She poured herself a glass of the wine, downed it, and then poured another one. The sweet liquid turned to fire in her gut. She was thankful for the lightheaded feeling that followed drinking an entire glass so quickly. She didn’t want to think about the mangled mass of flesh, bone, and hair anymore. She just wanted to be.
She poured a second one for J and handed it to be him before taking a seat on the
chair opposite him.
“Why are you following me?” she asked, sipping from her cup.
“Me? Follow you? You must be kidding.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a look that spoke louder than words ever could.
He smiled lazily at her and said, “I heard that you were having trouble with your negotiations with the LaRues, and I want to offer my services.”
She sat back in surprise. How had he even known about the negotiation? Tension began creeping back into her shoulders as she eyed him warily. “Go on,” she commanded.
“What if I told you I had some information that would help you acquire Spade from the LaRues?”
“I’d say you were sticking your nose in where it wasn’t needed.”
He chuckled at her, his smile broadening. “I like you, Fortuna. You’re not anything like what I was expecting.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, “And what were you expecting?”
“The way you were described to me was as a cold, hard, ice queen who delighted in delivering the death blows to men.”
She glared at him. She did not deliver death blows. Sure, she guaranteed people knew Morta was coming for them when they didn’t pay their debts, but that was different.
“Don’t look so angry,” he said. Warmth exuded from him as he continued, “But then I met you on the new year, and you were so much more interesting than I thought you’d be.”
“You remember that very differently than I do,” she said, taking a large gulp from her glass. Her skin began to tingle pleasantly as the euphoric effects of the wine began to kick in. Stars, she loved Kalvian wine.
“Morta will be here any moment,” he said as he picked up his glass of wine and drained it within a matter of seconds.
Amber stared at him, confused. He slammed the glass back on the table and reached out to grasp her hands in his own. This time, she didn’t pull away from him.
“I think we could be great friends, you and I,” he whispered as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear as he said, “The next time you meet with Frost, be sure to carry this with you.”
He dropped a small, yet surprisingly heavy object into her hand before pressing his lips to hers. She was so surprised by the touch of his lips on her own that she didn’t pull away from him. She closed her eyes as she leaned into him. His lips were warm and firm, yet tender.
Hungry.
She leaned into the kiss, her heart skipped a beat. Or maybe two. Who was counting? She didn’t care. All that mattered was how warm he was on her.
The kiss was over before Amber could think to push him away. Her eyes fluttered open as a small smile crossed her lips.
“What was th—” she stopped mi-word as she realized he was gone.
She searched the room, but he was nowhere to be found. Her stomach felt as if hundreds of ropes had been tied around her middle, constricting her. She breathed in deeply, trying to force the warmth of his lips on hers from her memory. The feel of him lingered.
She pressed a finger to her lips.
Grinding metal sounded from behind her followed by the tell-tale hiss of the air-lock being released as Morta entered the room. Amber slipped the object J had given her behind the pulser pistol. She couldn’t explain why she didn’t want Morta to know about it; she just knew it was wrong.
She glared at Amber as she stormed into the small space. Amber followed her gaze to the second, empty glass that still lay on the table and blushed.
“You better have a good reason for bringing me here like this,” Morta hissed, slamming the door behind her and pressing her thumb against the key lock. It hissed shut with a resounding bang. Morta’s special caliber of locks clinked into place as Amber sank into the chair and motioned for Morta to join her.
Morta listened to her tale with an impassive expression on her face. Amber told her everything. About how J had followed her to the secluded room. How the screams had started. How the bodies had looked. And the dark mass.
She got all the way to the wine when she abruptly stopped.
“I can tell there’s something else,” Morta said lazily. She inspected her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the room. “Spit it out.”
Swallowing, Amber wet her lips. “He told me to be careful the next time I meet with Spade. He seemed particularly interested in helping us finalize the negotiation.”
“Is that all?” Morta asked, rolling her eyes towards Amber with a look of distain.
“Why are you acting like what happened tonight isn’t a big deal? Do you know what that thing was that killed those women?” Amber leaned towards her employer, her eyes going wide.
“If I had to guess,” Morta replied, “I would say that someone has set a shade on us.”
“What in the stars is that?” Amber asked. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“So fitting.” Morta chuckled. “You know shades were mythical creatures in the old world of Greece? People actually used to think they existed: spirits in the underworld. Clearly someone has been reading the banned books.” She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers as she considered.
“Umm, Morta, that doesn’t really tell me what that thing was,” Amber said. The bands around her stomach continued to tighten as anxiety filled her. Not many in “V” had enough funds to purchase ancient Terran texts.
“Bah,” Morta exhaled, drawing her attention back to Amber. “A few years ago there was a new weapon created by Duncan Industries. It’s some sort of cybernetic hunter designed to find, capture, and—if needed—kill NAs. They were lab-grown around a metal exoskeleton. They were all supposed to be decommissioned after they started killing not just their targets but innocents as well. The rumor was that something went wrong in their programming.”
“So why didn’t it kill me?” Amber asked.
“Who knows. You’re lucky. Maybe your abilities did their thing.” Morta shrugged and leaned back against the couch.
Anxiety continued to storm within Amber as she contemplated telling Morta about the kiss. She decided against it. There were some things she wanted to keep just for herself.
“So, what do we do now? We can’t let that thing keep killing people.”
Morta nodded her agreement and tapped a finger against her cheek as she thought.
“There are only a few people who could have done this. The LaRues are the most obvious answer, of course. If they can get us backed into a corner, they can negotiate for a higher claim. But, there’s also the King.”
“He’s never involved himself like that before, so why would he now?” Amber asked. The tips of her fingers went numb as she clenched her hands tightly. She didn’t know what to think. She was certain that the attack had come from the LaRues.
“Because, if we acquire Spade, then we will be largest syndicate on Thoth. I will dethrone him.”
Amber’s lips fell into a perfect ‘oh.’ She hadn’t considered this before.
“Well, who do you think the mysterious man was? And how did he get out of here without you seeing him?”
“Those are the best questions you’ve asked all night, Amber.”
“Okay. Thanks for that. But what are your thoughts?”
“I honestly don’t know. He could be a plant from Spade, Taurus, or even just someone with a unique interest in you. In us.”
“You know I don’t like ambiguity, Morta,” Amber said with a huff.
“Well, until we find out more about your friend, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
The image of the women’s dismembered bodies popped into Amber’s mind like a bad dream. She closed her eyes, trying to force the memory away.
“And the shade?” she asked through gritted teeth. “What do we do about it?”
“We go hunting,” Morta replied, a cold smile spreading across her lips.
Chapter Seven
Amber clutched her pulser pistol in her fist, her finger resting on the trigger as she walked down
the hallway with a team of ten mercenaries.
One of them wore a powered armor suit that scratched the marble floor. The large plasma rifle he carried with him must have weighed at least forty kilos. It was powerful enough to knock out an entire ballistic pod wall after only one shot, but it was slow and bulky. Plus, the mercenary encased in the power suit had told her that it could only fire six shots before the capacitor it needed to run had to be recharged.
Was it better to be powerful and slow or weaker and agile? Amber didn’t have an answer. She wanted to be both quick and powerful. She needed to be if they were going to complete their mission and take out the shade.
She checked the bracelet dangling from her wrist. Neon numbers flashed on its small screen, indicating the time. They had already been hunting for over an hour. She didn’t really understand how they were tracking the beast. One of the mercenaries had explained that the shade emitted a unique heat signature that could be traced using a thermal detector.
Unlike the man wearing the power suit, the rest of them wore standard combat armor. They all bore wearable ballistic shields and had given one to Amber for protection as well. Weaver Technologies created them as part of their defense platform.
Using nith, the toughest metal in the galaxy, nanorobots had been built with the sole purpose of protecting their designated human. The shield had the capacity to block direct blasts from a plasma rifle and withstand several high-velocity darts. She fingered the engagement button as they turned a corner and the commanding officer raised his fist in the air.
Everyone halted.
Amber held the pistol in front of her and slid her finger over the dart selector until the blue indicator light turned orange. She could only hope that armor piercing explosives would work against the shade.
Metal scraped on metal as a large mass shot from the shadows and knocked one of the soldiers standing behind her to the ground. A gurgled cry erupted from the man as his arm was ripped from his shoulder in a spray of crimson blood.