by Keri Arthur
The elevator opened into a foyer that was spacious, bright, and white. There were only two doors—one on the left, the other on the right. Charles touched my back and guided me right. The sensor beeped as we approached and then the door opened. Obviously, it had been programmed to respond to his RFID chip.
The room beyond was one vast white space, with walls of glass on two sides that provided spectacular views over Government House or the park. The furniture was either white leather or glass, and even the air smelled different; cleaner.
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“The building is family owned. I inherited this apartment from my grandmother.” He took the coat from my shoulders. After hanging it up, he walked across the room and pulled out a beautifully ornate bottle from a drinks cabinet, pouring a generous amount of alcohol into two large balloon glasses.
“And I would think you’d thank your grandmother every day for gifting you with such a gorgeous view.”
I went over to the window, knowing the bright lights of the nearby UVs would make my tunic translucent.
“I was rather lucky. But then, I was also her only grandson.”
He moved toward me. Though I wasn’t actually watching him, the strengthening scent of desire told me he was enjoying the view.
“Then why do you work?” I asked. “It sounds as if you don’t need to.”
He handed me a glass. “Because I want to. And because my other option is not one I wish just yet.”
I didn’t ask what that option was, simply because a note in his voice suggested he didn’t want to talk about it. Silence fell as we sipped our drinks. After five or so minutes had passed, I leaned back against him. His free hand slid around my waist, his fingers briefly skimming the underside of my breasts. Desire stirred; it wasn’t a fierce thing, wasn’t a rush, but I nevertheless welcomed it. Seduction was always easier when I felt at least some connection, and that hadn’t always been the case during the war, despite my natural affinity to shifters. But then, I’d never found brutal men appealing, in bed or out, and many of the generals during that time had been little more than the beasts they accused déchet of being.
Once I’d finished, he plucked my glass from my hand, then turned me around and kissed me. It was at first almost too polite, but it deepened—became more ardent—once he realized I was willing.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed closer. His kisses became fiercer, his tongue tasting and exploring my mouth. Then he pulled away, caught the end of my tunic, and tugged it over my head. He tossed it onto the nearby sofa and stood back.
“Magnificent,” he murmured as his gaze did a long, slow journey down my body. “Just magnificent.”
Then he stepped close again and with hands and mouth tasted, teased, and explored. I undid his shirt and slipped it from his shoulders, but as I loosened his trousers to caress the heat of his erection, he caught my hand, stopping me.
“This will be over far too fast if you do that.” Amusement warred with desire in his expression. “I also believe we have provided the neighbors with enough entertainment.”
He tugged me away from the window and led me into one of two rooms at the rear of the apartment. It was a bedroom complete with a huge glass bath—something I’d never seen before. The bed itself was equally impressive—a huge round thing covered in white silk and furs.
Sensation rippled through me as I lay down, and memories of times past when I’d lain on coverings such as this stirred. At least this time I was doing so of my own free will.
“Before we continue,” he murmured, tracing a circle around my belly button, “I need to inform you that while I might be in my twilight years, I am still fully fertile.”
“Your scent told me that. But it’s not a problem.” But not, as he would undoubtedly presume, because I was protected from impregnation, but because I’d been created sterile.
He smiled and continued his seduction, until sweat sheened his body and desire was evident in mine. Only then did he let me touch him, caress him. Only then did he let me climb on top of him and drive him deep inside.
That was the moment I unleashed my seeker skills.
My energy and my aura merged with his, entwining as intimately as our bodies were now entwined. Emotions and thought became something I could see and taste, memories something I could raid. I ran swiftly through the surface images, sensing in them utter delight and monstrous need. It really had been a long time since he was with a woman.
I plunged deeper, seeking hidden recesses and pockets of memories. Saw, in rapid succession, fragmented images of the past week—his actions, the projects he was working on, the financial problems he was dealing with, as well as those who worked under him. I dove deeper still, looking for information on the man who ran Winter Halo, and caught a name—Rath Winter. An image rose, one that matched what the ghosts had already given me. And with it came a sense of frustration; whatever Rath Winter had Charles doing right now, Charles wasn’t happy with it.
I wanted to chase those emotions down and try to find out why, but I refrained. Cats tended to be a little more sensitive to such intrusions than other shifters, so it was always better to access information over a period of sessions than to attempt to gather it all at one time.
I slowly—carefully—withdrew. As awareness of the here and now resurfaced, I reimmersed myself into the sensations flooding my body. Became aware of his hands on my hips, holding me down, and his teeth as he alternately grazed and then suckled my breasts. Became aware of his groans as his body became more demanding and desperate.
I rode him harder and harder, until his roar of completeness echoed in the stillness as his seed pumped deep inside me.
For several seconds neither of us moved. Then I leaned forward and kissed him gently. “That was very pleasant indeed.”
He chuckled softly and touched a hand to my cheek, running a thumb across my lips. “And that was most definitely an understatement.”
“Perhaps.” I slid to one side and ran a finger down his chest. “So, are you the type of gentleman who hustles a lady out the door once he’s had his wicked way with her, or are you the sort who provides breakfast?”
“Definitely the latter if the lady is willing.”
“The lady is most definitely willing.” I let my fingers trail across his flaccid cock. It jumped lightly in response. Charles might be a centenarian with an unadventurous bent when it came to lovemaking, but he certainly wasn’t lacking in sexual stamina. “Especially since I’d really love to try out that bath of yours.”
He laughed and immediately got off the bed. In very little time, we were ensconced in hot, bubbly water and drinking cognac.
I’d certainly had worse assignments in the past.
* * *
Charles was as good as his word and made breakfast while I took a shower. I left with a promise to meet him again tomorrow night. While I would have preferred to attempt a second reading of him tonight, I needed to get a new identity in place—one that matched the name I’d given him.
Unfortunately, the only person who could provide that was Nuri. I might have wanted to avoid getting involved with them again, but if it meant getting the information I needed to free those children, then I would.
I walked along Second Street until I found a walkway leading to Victory Street, the only street that ran in a direct line between Central’s two gates. The walkway was empty, so I quickly wrapped a light shield around my body. The last thing I needed was anyone spotting me moving toward Chaos in this form. It probably would have been better to simply change back to my natural body, but it would also be a waste of energy. I’d have to change back again for Nuri to readjust the information in my newly acquired RFID chip, so it was better to stay as I was.
I headed north down Victory and eventually reached the huge gatehouse. The ends of the silver curtain that Central used in pla
ce of the more conventional portcullis had been drawn up for the day’s exodus, and the drawbridge was almost lowered. I held back, waiting until the bridge was down and most of the crowd had flowed across, then followed them out. The sensors fitted into the thick metal walls didn’t react to my presence, though they would have had there been more vampire in my DNA. It had taken ten years to completely rebuild Central, and by then not only had all the HDP bases been well and truly destroyed, but the déchet population and all those who had created and looked after us had been decimated. It had never occurred to anyone that someone might have survived such destruction, so they never built that possibility into their security systems—an oversight I was extremely grateful for. Feeding myself would have been far more problematic had I not been able to make regular raids into Central.
Once I was beyond the rail yards and out of sight, I released the shield and silently called for Cat and Bear. I might have to go into Chaos to get what I needed, but I had no desire to go in alone.
As I walked up the hill toward the ramshackle community, my two ghosts zipped around me, excitedly filling me in on the morning’s events. Apparently, the engineers were back, trying to decide whether the museum was worth salvaging or not. The other little ones were having great fun moving their equipment around.
The metal containers that made up most of Chaos’s ground level soon came into view. They were garishly decorated and basically supported the weight of the ten levels above them. They were used as shops, factories, and trading posts, and were only now finding life thanks to the fact that the sun had fully risen. The inhabitants of Chaos might show little concern about the vampires, but they didn’t invite trouble, either. When dusk returned, all those who worked here would retreat upward, and all ladders and stairs would be either drawn up or locked down. It didn’t often help, but the illusion of safety was better than nothing, I suppose. As I walked through the six-foot gap that was the designated entrance into this side of Chaos, the shadows closed in and the fear of being caged—of having no room and no air—swiftly followed. I swallowed heavily and forced my feet on, hitching up the ends of my tunic as I splashed through water that was thick and oily while trying to avoid the muck that dripped steadily from above. Rubbish lay in gathering drifts, emitting a stench that was a putrid mix of rotting fish and human waste. Central did provide a degree of medical, water, and sanitation support to Chaos, but just about everything else was acquired via theft or trading. Only those who lived in the upper portions of Chaos had the money to purchase anything.
I climbed the first staircase and moved on swiftly through the next couple of levels. As usual, Cat kept close, but Bear scouted ahead, checking everyone out. Just as those people we could see—and undoubtedly the ones we couldn’t—were checking me out. My fingers itched with the need for a gun, but it was probably just as well I didn’t have one. Nuri lived in the middle of the mercenary district, and mercenaries tended to be trigger-happy at the best of times. While I had no doubt she’d have sent out word to let me pass unhindered, I wasn’t about to trust everyone in the district to obey her. She might be a powerful witch, and she might be someone most of them respected, but they were still mercenaries—and that made them untrustworthy in my book.
I eventually made it to Run Turk Alley and once again had to weave my way through the maze of extended legs and dark gazes of the men who lounged there. Nuri’s building was a construction of wood and metal coated with years of grime, graffiti, and advertising posters. It was also three times the size of the other buildings in the alley, and even had several windows along its frontage—all of which were barred.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The ghosts zipped ahead of me to check the room, their energy a mix of excitement and tension. The first time we’d walked into this place I’d been darted with Iruakandji—a drug that had been developed in the latter part of war by the HDP, but one that had only been used on a couple of occasions. While it did kill shifters with great alacrity, it had proven extremely unviable as a weapon thanks to the discovery that it was also deadly to déchet, no matter how little shifter blood they had in them. The fact that I’d survived the darting was due in no small part to my immunity to all known toxins and poisons.
The main room was all but empty. Two sturdy-looking men stood at an old wooden bar to my right, nursing drinks that looked too dark to be regular beer. There was no one sitting at the odd selection of tables directly in front, and booths to my left were also empty. The bartender was a woman I didn’t recognize.
Her gaze scanned me critically. Deciding whether I was a potential threat, I suspected. Eventually, she said, “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Nuri.”
“She expecting you?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “More than likely.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, then motioned with her chin to the rear of the building. “She’s out back.”
“Thanks.”
I followed Cat and Bear through the main room and into the next. This room was smaller and held a ramshackle collection of chairs as well as a solitary table that had seen better days. Nuri stood next to an old electric stove near the center of the room; she was a rotund woman with rosy cheeks and wiry hair that ballooned around her head like a sea of steely snakes. Though she didn’t, in any way, look dangerous, she was undoubtedly the most formidable woman in this section of Chaos—if not the entire city. The force of her energy—a force that came from the fact that she was an earth witch as well as a seeker of some power—electrified the air. To someone like me—someone who was sensitive to such energy and a seeker besides—she appeared surrounded by a halo of flickering, fiery blue.
“Tiger,” she said, glancing around. “This is a surprise.”
I doubted it, given her expression and the amusement lurking around the corners of her sharp brown eyes. “I need help.”
“Indeed?” She turned back to the stove and continued stirring whatever she was cooking—which smelled delicious enough to have my mouth watering. “I was under the impression you wanted nothing to do with us.”
“Yeah, well, as I said to Jonas yesterday, you’re apparently intent on ignoring what I want, so I might as well make use of you.”
“Indeed,” she repeated, the amusement stretching to her lips. “And what is it that you want?”
I asked my two little ghosts to keep an eye on the exits, then walked across to the stove. “Some of that stew would be a good start.”
She chuckled. “There’s bowls under that bench over there. Grab three—Jonas will be here soon enough.”
I did as she bade and watched as she generously filled them. Jonas appeared as I was carrying two of the bowls across the table and stopped somewhat abruptly, his nostrils flaring when he saw me.
Which made me damn glad I’d taken the time to shower.
“Impressive.” His tone was neutral, but amusement teased the corners of his mouth and eyes. “I’m gathering that particular body alteration is not for the benefit of anyone here.”
“You gather right, Ranger.” I sat down, grabbed a spoon from the cutlery holder in the center of the table, and tucked in.
He sat down opposite me and pulled the second bowl closer to himself. “Then can I ask just who it was meant for?”
“Nadel Keller, initially. Sal told me his preference ran to dark-skinned ladies with large breasts, but I figured he would never ignore an impressive rack regardless of skin color.”
“Few men would.”
“Yourself included?”
The amusement in those sharp green eyes was deeper. “I would never ignore such an attraction if they came my way, though I am of the firm belief that more than a handful is something of a waste.”
Just for an instant, there was something in his smile that made me wonder yet again whether he was actually attracted to me, or if it was simply some sort of game he was playing.
<
br /> Nuri joined us at the table, placing a round of bread between us and breaking the moment. Whatever the moment actually had been.
“So,” she said, tearing off a chunk of bread before pushing it my way, “what do you need?”
“Three things, the first being a new identity. One whose name is Cat—which will need to be short for Catherine.” Little Cat clapped her hands in delight at this bit of news, and a smile tugged my lips.
“That is simple enough to do,” Nuri commented. “But I’m thinking the rest of your requests will not be.”
“No.” I munched on the bread and contemplated her for several seconds. “I need the identity to be based on Third Street—at the very least—and I need enough credits to go with such an identity.”
She leaned back in the chair. “As I suspected, a tall order. Why?”
“Because Nadel Keller is dead, and I’ve found a new target.”
“Did you kill Keller?” Jonas asked.
I glanced at him. “No. He was poisoned. He dropped dead on Seventh before I got anywhere near him.”
“Meaning Sal’s partners are tying up loose ends.”
“So it would seem.”
“Who is your new target?” Nuri asked.
“Charles Fontaine. He’s the—”
“Financial director at Winter Halo,” Nuri finished for me. “And the perfect subject for information gathering.”
I frowned a little at the odd emphasis she seemed to place on information—it was almost as if Charles had more information to give than just about Winter Halo. And maybe he did—it wasn’t like I knew all that much about him at the moment. “My selecting him was more good luck than good judgment.”
Nuri smiled. “Perhaps. And perhaps the goddess is favoring our quest.”