Chapter Six
A shaft of pain and terror shot through Sasha’s mind like a red-hot poker. She cried out and fell to the floor, just barely shielding her face from the hard, cold tiles.
“Sasha?!” Brian’s voice echoed her own distress. He couldn’t afford to disconnect from the skyport’s computer network, and she felt his frustration at being unable to reach out to her.
After a moment Sasha realized that the emotions were coming through her thought-thread to Trace. She reached out and tried to widen the link, but the connection was tangled and distorted by the presence of so much strong emotion. Sending coherent thoughts at this range was tricky enough when both parties were reasonably calm; when one party was in distress, it was almost impossible. Feelings like pain, grief, and rage made it easier to hear a person’s mind while simultaneously making it harder to make out precisely what that person was thinking, just as an audio speaker turned up too loud would sacrifice clarity for distance.
What’s going on, Trace? she asked, putting as much force behind the thoughts as she could.
If Trace heard her, he gave no sign. The flash of terror gave way to a cold, icy dread, a morbid feeling of inevitability. Oh, Eli. He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.
A tide of calm, focused thought came rushing into Sasha through her separate link with Fiona. Sasha grabbed hold of it like a lifeline, steadying herself against the flood of sensations coming from Trace. Fiona wasn’t much of a teep, but her long years of practice at controlling her emotions gave her a self-discipline that Sasha envied. She borrowed that strength from Fiona now, building a barricade in her mind that held back enough of Trace’s emotions for her to think clearly.
Thanks, love, Sasha said, sending a wave of gratitude back to Fiona.
Any time, Fiona said. I will reach the staging area in approximately one minute. I can assist you until then, but after that I will need Brian’s guidance. Can you get any sense of what is happening?
Sasha peered out from behind her mental barrier at the storm that was raging in Trace’s thoughts. Amidst the pain and fear she saw two new emotions: shock and anger. A sense of outrage and betrayal blackened Trace’s thoughts, pushing him to keep fighting even as despair ate away at him from the inside.
Sasha… Her name rode the tide of emotion into her thoughts. Are you getting this?
Yes, Trace! she sent back urgently. Yes, I hear you. Keep fighting, Trace! We’ll send help!
But Trace didn’t seem to hear her; more thoughts followed, fragmented and disjointed by the shaky connection. Rogue teek … bastard … our own bullets…
A chill ran through Sasha. Say that again, Trace. Did you say a rogue teek?
Fresh terror ran through Trace, followed by more anger and a sense of desperation. Have to do something…
Sasha clutched at her crucifix, running her fingers over it and sending up a silent prayer to Eli. Trace, please confirm! she said, pushing as hard as she could to send the thoughts through the link. Is it really a rogue? Can Del stop him?
It happened faster than she would have thought possible. Agony stabbed through Trace’s body, followed almost instantly by a wave of shock that she knew was an echo from Del. Then there was an explosion of feelings – frustration, despair, regret – that vanished as suddenly as it came. Sasha reached out for Del’s mind, trying to get some sense from him – a thought, an emotion, anything. Only silence answered her.
“Del!”
A moment later, a sharp pain struck through Trace. He was so full of anger and despair that Sasha thought he was almost past caring. She fought desperately for a picture of what Trace was seeing, to get some sense of what was going on. She got one brief image of a tall black man standing over him, holding something between his fingers and grinning like the Adversary himself. Then the image went dark, and Sasha felt Trace’s thoughts slip beyond her reach.
“Trace! Oh, Eli,” she sobbed. “Trace, come back!”
Fiona and Brian’s thoughts wrapped around her, lending her strength even as they shared her grief. He’s gone, Sasha, Fiona said gently.
She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. Rogue telepaths might kill mundanes, sure, but to kill two of their own people? To work for the vampires? What kind of sick bastard would do such a thing?
Sasha, Fiona said, her voice calm but insistent. Stay with us, love. We need you. I need you.
Brian’s thoughts resonated with agreement. She’s right, Sash, he said quietly. We can’t do anything to help Del and Trace. I need you to help me get Fiona out of here. The police are coming and we don’t have a lot of time.
Sasha clutched tightly to both of their minds. Fighting back her tears, she grasped the crucifix again and prayed for strength. “All right,” she said, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. “All right. I’m with you.”
Drawing on her years of military service and Fiona’s iron will, Sasha pushed the grief to the back of her mind and walled it off. She would return to it later. Right now she needed to finish the mission, and make sure that the rest of them got out alive.
Fiona aimed her electric torch at the array of numbers and letters written at each corner of the intersection in front of her. 77-E1-AQ10. She suppressed a sigh. It would be illogical, she supposed, to expect the designers of the ventilation system to provide an easily-understood system of navigation. It wasn’t as if they would want to encourage the sort of intrusion in which she was currently engaged.
Brian, she said, focusing her thoughts into the telepathic link. Show me the schematics around intersection seventy-seven mark E-one mark A-Q-ten.
She closed her eyes and watched as lines of green light sketched themselves across her vision, forming an intricate web of connecting passages. One intersection was limned in red and had the words YOU ARE HERE superimposed upon it. An embellishment on Brian’s part, no doubt, but useful nonetheless.
Take the right passage, Brian said. You’ll reach a vertical shaft in about ten meters. That will take you down another five storeys before it goes horizontal again. There should be hand-rungs on the far wall of the shaft.
Acknowledged. Fiona paused to adjust the strap that held her torch against her temple, then proceeded in the direction indicated. The ten meters of horizontal distance took an annoyingly long time to travel: the ducts were about one meter on each side, only large enough for her to crawl through on her hands and knees. The narrow beam from the torch provided the only illumination, save for a small amount of ambient light that filtered in through open vents. While the ventilation ducts were dark, however, they were far from quiet; the rush of air and the thrum of fans were a constant companion, joined by the echoes of conversations, the whine of drive turbines, and the myriad other sounds of an active skyport.
So it was that Fiona did not become aware of the second person in the ventilation ducts until she was already halfway down the vertical shaft. The sound of feet against the rungs above her was light and quick, and even with her psychometabolic powers enhancing her senses it took some time before she was able to pick it out among the ambient noise.
Potential hostile detected, she told Sasha and Brian. She paused briefly on the climbing rungs, enhancing her sense of touch so that she could feel the vibrations caused by the other person’s descent. Estimate that it is a woman, fifty-five to sixty kilograms, probably combat-capable. Range, approximately fifteen meters. She covered her torch and glanced briefly upward before continuing her descent. I see no indication that she is using a light source, which suggests supernatural vision or vision-analogues.
A tremor of worry resonated from Sasha. Vampire?
Fiona frowned. Unlikely. If she had a vampire’s resilience she would simply have jumped down on top of me.
Do you think she knows you’ve seen her? Brian asked.
Before Fiona could reply, a soft clink of metal against metal sounded from approximately fifteen meters above her. She looked up in time to see a small gray sphere burst open just above her, spraying the ventilation shaft with some sort of oil. It must have been alchemical in nature, for it covered everything far more swiftly and thoroughly than one could reasonably have expected from a vessel of that size. In seconds Fiona’s entire body and everything around it were completely covered in a slick, colorless film.
She grimaced. Grease bomb, she told Sasha and Brian. Descent temporarily halted. Stand by.
She hooked an arm through the nearest climbing rung and reached into a pocket with her free hand. The grease bomb had left her hands and feet too slippery to gain any purchase against the metal rungs, so she locked herself in place with one elbow while she pulled out a handkerchief and carefully wiped her fingers.
A thin black rope fell past Fiona on one side. She looked up and saw a slender woman, dressed all in black, rappelling down towards her. Fiona had expected that. Looking down, she saw that the rope extended to the bottom of the shaft. She quickly calculated that there wasn’t time for her to pull out her own grappling hook before the other woman caught up with her. Grasping the rope with her handkerchief-wrapped hand, she let go of the wall and let herself slide down the rope, bracing her oil-slick boots against the walls to control the rate of her descent. She hit bottom in ten seconds and immediately dove into the adjoining horizontal shaft.
With her clothes and boots coated in oil, moving on her hands and knees was nearly impossible. Abandoning dignity, Fiona kicked off her shoes and pulled off her pants, then continued on in her socks and underwear. She only hoped the disguise amulet would hide her embarrassing condition when she left the skyport.
Fiona crawled through the ducts as quickly as she could, taking random turns at the first three intersections she encountered. She was glad that she had emptied the contents of the package into her backpack before leaving the staging area; she would not have wanted to try to carry a package out of here after it had been covered in alchemical lubricant. She glanced briefly at the markings on each intersection she passed, feeding that information back to Sasha so Brian could keep track of her whereabouts. She could hear the other woman moving through the tunnels behind her; though it was hard to gauge direction or distance through sound alone, the vibrations in the metal floor told Fiona that the distance between them had grown slightly. Unfortunately, the difference was only slight; the tremors from the other woman’s pursuit had not fallen off sharply, as would have happened if they had taken different turns at one of those intersections.
Hostile is still in pursuit, she told the others. Either she is unusually lucky or she has some means of tracking me.
Should we use the nondetection scroll? Sasha asked. It was keyed to all of us, so it should erase any scent-marks or fingerprints you might have left.
Negative, Fiona said firmly. You and Brian will need to use it after you leave. Guide me to someplace quiet where I will have room to maneuver. I will confront her there.
There’s a storage room not far from you, Brian said. Take the next left and go out through the second vent on the floor.
Fiona came to the vent less than a minute later. She no longer had the tools from her utility belt, so she pulled a combat knife from her shoulder harness and used it to pry open the grate. The room below was dark, as she had expected; after looking around with her torch and listening for any sign of trouble, she lowered herself down until she was hanging by her fingers. There was at least another meter between her and the floor, so she prepared her legs to absorb the fall and then let herself drop.
The expected impact never came. Half a meter before she hit the floor her fall was broken by something soft and elastic. The room lit up with a soft yellow glow, previously-unseen sigils coming to life in a ring that had been sketched on the floor with some kind of invisible ink. She hung suspended in mid-air in a sphere of light above that circle, unable to reach floor, walls, or ceiling.
Sasha must have felt her surprise through the link. Fiona, what’s happening?
Fiona reached out and touched the walls of the sphere. It resisted her touch gently but firmly; she felt a prickling against her skin when she pressed against it, but she did not notice any ill effects from touching it. Spell trap, she told Sasha. Ritual magic, from the look of it. It seems to have enveloped me in a kind of force field.
Can you get out? Brian asked.
Fiona pressed harder against the sphere with one hand, focusing the pressure into her fingertips. The prickling grew uncomfortably intense, but she found that she could force her hand outside the sphere. Eventually, she said, drawing her hand back inside and rubbing it to dispel the pins-and-needles sensation. I have lost most of my equipment, but I believe I can find a way out.
She did not add that she almost certainly did not have enough time to do so. Frustration and anger rose up from deep inside her, and with an effort of will she walled them off and pushed them back down. Her emotions would not help her here. She needed to think, and to do so quickly.
She had removed her shoulder harness and was in the process of weighting one end of it with her knife when the door to the storeroom opened and someone slipped inside. The woman shut the door behind her, locked it, and switched on the light before turning her attention to Fiona.
As Fiona had guessed, she looked to be about 60 kilos and 175 centimeters tall, a little taller than Fiona but similarly proportioned. She had the look of a dancer about her, sleek and athletic. She was covered in a black bodysuit with a utility belt, backpack and equipment harness. She was armed with a pistol, a stun gun, and several small grey spheres that hung from clips on her belt, which were probably smoke grenades or additional grease bombs. Her unkempt, multicolored hair was pulled back away from her face by a large hair comb, but it flew out in all directions behind her head. She looked young, no more than eighteen or nineteen, but her large eyes held more maturity than Fiona had typically seen in a woman of that age. She looked up at Fiona with a mixture of satisfaction and sympathy.
“You led me on a good chase,” she said. Her tone was conversational, that of one professional to another. “I should thank you. It’s been a while since someone’s given me a workout like that.”
Fiona looked around at the force-field sphere. “You seem to have had the situation well under control,” she said, forcing herself not to show any of the frustration she felt. “Out of professional curiosity, how did you know I would come here?”
The other woman shrugged. “This wasn’t the only one. I set up a few others here and there before the mission started. I figured I wasn’t the only one who might use the vents to get out. I couldn’t cover all the exits, but I picked the ones that felt right.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Just random luck, then?”
The runner twisted her lip into a wry half-grin. “You’d be amazed how often that works for me.” She gestured at Fiona’s backpack. “All right, enough shop talk. You know what I’m here for.”
Obediently, Fiona pulled out the stack of data cards, which were sealed in a plastic clamshell container, and the small metal box. She stretched out her hands to the runner, holding the objects palm-upward.
The younger woman snorted. “Y-y-yeah. See, that’s not gonna happen. No offense, but I know what you can do and I’m not about to get within arms’ reach of you. Just push ‘em through the field and I’ll pick ‘em up.”
Fiona quickly covered her surprise at that. “And what if I refuse?” she asked. “The police must certainly be on their way, and I doubt you can afford to stay here long.”
The runner looked disappointed. “Do we really have to play that game?” she asked.
“You hardly seem a murderer.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that. But I have no problem with using this.” She took out the stun gun and held it up so Fiona could see it more closely. It wasn’t just a melee-range weapon; it was the type that was equipped with a pair of gas-propelled darts, which would deliver the weapon’s charge to a target up to five meters away.
“I know you’re pretty resilient,” the runner said, “but somehow I doubt that even you can stand up to a hundred and fifty thousand volts.” Her expression turned sad. “So why don’t we quit screwing around and you give me that package before my partner shows up? He’s already killed two of your guys, and I’d really hate for you to be here when he shows up.”
Fiona felt her lip curl into a sneer, the anger starting to leak through behind her wall of control. “Yes,” she said. “I am sure your heart bleeds for us.” She pushed her fists through the force-field in two sharp, sudden blows, dropping the box and the data cards on the floor in front of her. She noticed that this time her hands stung with pain after the impact, probably because she had struck the field with greater force.
The runner came forward and quickly collected the objects, slipping them inside her backpack.
“Do you understand who you are working for?” Fiona asked her, her voice low but intense. “Do you have any idea what is in there?”
“Yes,” the woman said, her voice and eyes suddenly hard. “I’m working for the one who’s paying me. What’s in there is a payout big enough that I won't have to worry how I'm going to eat, or where Mom is going to get her medicine, or how I'm going to pay for an apartment in a neighborhood where I won't have to sleep in the bathtub every night because I'm afraid I'll be hit by stray gunfire. Beyond that, I don’t care.”
Her pose softened, and she shrugged. “Look, it’s nothing personal. If your boss wants to hire me to help steal it back, I’ll be happy to talk business with him. But that’s another job, and right now this job says I have to get this stuff out of here safely.” She turned to go. “If you can’t understand that, find a different line of work, ‘cause you’ve got no business being a runner, anyway.”
She pulled out a communicator and held it to her ear. “Valiant, this is Ferret. I’ve got the rock. Alpha-niner has been neutralized. Proceed to extraction.”
A man’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Ferret, Valiant here. Please confirm: Alpha-niner has been neutralized.”
The woman took a deep breath and let it out before pushing the talk button. “Affirmative. She took a bad fall during pursuit and broke her neck. I think it was too much even for her regen power.”
“Good work, Ferret. I’d rather put a couple of bullets in her head to be sure, but it’s better if it looks like an accident. I’m heading out now; Vixen’s going to take care of clearing the others. See you in the future.”
The runner put the communicator away. “Not if I see you first,” she muttered. She looked back at Fiona. “That spell will burn itself out in about five minutes. I don’t think he’ll come after you now, but you might want to lay low for a little, while just in case.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same for your friends. I really am.”
Fiona said nothing as the woman left. As the door swung shut, she turned her thoughts back to the link.
Brian. Sasha. Abort mission. Repeat, abort mission. Proceed to extraction by most direct possible means. I will meet you the rendezvous point.
Fiona knew Sasha could sense the tension in her thoughts. She could feel her trying to get in, under the surface to the emotions beneath, but Fiona rebuffed her firmly.
Understood, Sasha said at last, sounding hurt. Do you need any help getting out?
Why would I? I am no longer carrying anything illicit, and they never look at people who are leaving a skyport. Go. I will be fine.
Okay. Be safe, love. Reluctantly, Sasha withdrew the link, and her and Brian’s thoughts faded from Fiona’s awareness.
For a long moment Fiona just stood there, her feet resting on invisible force, her arms rigid at her sides. The scream began slowly, rising up from a place deep inside her, building and building until it tore at her throat and echoed off the walls of the room. She pounded the walls of the force-field with her fists, her feet, even her forehead, lashing out again and again with psychically-enhanced strength. Her breath expended itself, and she sucked down air again to give further voice to her rage. Her body stung wherever she struck the force-field, and the pain drove her to strike even harder, howling and snarling like a rabid animal. The force-field shuddered under the relentless assault, its golden light growing weaker as each impact stole some of its energy. At last the sigils burned out and the field collapsed, dumping her unceremoniously onto the cold, hard floor.
She lay where she fell, her whole body quivering with her screams, the raw emotion pouring out of her like water through a shattered dam. At some point the screams gave way to sobs, and she shuddered and wailed and wept like a child — both for her friends, and for her shame at having failed them so completely.
“Is there anything else you can tell us, Mr. Karlsson?”
Daniel fidgeted in his chair and shifted the ice pack on his head, wondering if his head would ever stop throbbing. The police officers who sat opposite him were leaning forward with intent expressions, but so far neither of them seemed to have noticed that he was under a doppel charm. Unlike a simple disguise amulet, a doppel charm was an actual transmutation spell. The only way to tell if someone was wearing one was by using mage sight, and so far no mages had shown up to question him or the other dock workers.
“Mr. Karlsson?”
He sighed. “Sorry, no. I went over to check on Benny and … I dunno how I ended up on the floor. Maybe I just fainted, maybe he knocked me out.” He shook his head. “I guess it wasn’t really Benny, huh?”
One of the police officers, a woman with short blonde hair, frowned and nodded. “That’s our theory. One of the other employees said that he saw the suspect make the guns fly away from the other men on their own, which certainly sounds like a talent that Benny Chedomo didn’t have.”
Daniel snorted. “Yeah. I don’t think Benny had nothin’ like that.”
“Did you see or hear anything that might have told you where he was going?”
“No, ma’am, sorry.” He looked up at her and frowned. “So what was this all about, anyway? I thought those other guys were the thieves, but then Benny killed ‘em and just ran off.”
The woman grimaced. “We believe you got caught in the crossfire between two rival crime families,” she said. “It was very dangerous for you to try to stop them like that. You should never attack a thief if he’s armed, especially if you aren’t. You ought to thank the Prophet you’re still alive.”
Daniel hung his head and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I guess … I just wanted to do my job, y’know? I don’t like the idea of nobody stealin’ people’s stuff. And then when they killed those guards …” He shrugged. “I just got so mad.”
“That’s understandable,” the police woman said. “But stopping crooks is our job, not yours.”
There was a sound of stylish shoes snapping regularly against the concrete floor of the cargo bay. Daniel looked up to see Eva Selindi striding toward them, her face set in a calm but firm do-not-screw-with-me expression. She stopped a meter away and bowed stiffly toward the police officers.
“Pardon the intrusion, officers,” she said briskly, “but I have just received an urgent call from Mr. Karlsson’s family. It seems that they saw the attack on the news and will not stop calling until they speak with their son.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Selindi,” the officer said, rising to her feet. “We were just finishing here.” She pulled out a business card and passed it to Daniel. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call, all right?”
Daniel nodded and stood. “I hope you get him,” he said, bowing to the officers. Then Eva took his arm and led him away, until they passed beyond the police tape and disappeared into the crowds of the skyport.
“You were very convincing,” Eva said, as she ushered Daniel into a sleek, black skimmer that waited for them in the fifth-level parking garage. “You looked as if you’ve had some experience impersonating others before.”
Daniel shrugged and slid into the back seat alongside Eva. “Comes with the territory,” he said, sounding as numb as he felt. “My people spend their whole lives pretending to be normal. Plus I took some acting classes in college.” He laughed once, but it sounded dead and hollow. “Funny how the training comes back when you need it.”
The driver pulled the skimmer out into traffic and began heading south toward the point where Daniel would eventually be dropped off. A panel with a tinted glass window separated the front and back seats, granting Daniel and Eva a measure of privacy. Daniel pulled off the doppel charm and stared at it while his body shifted back into its usual form.
Eva leaned forward and caught his gaze, her violet eyes etched with concern. “Daniel, what’s wrong?” she asked. “The mission was a success, you know.”
Daniel looked away, adjusting his ice pack again. “Callie got the package back, then?”
“Yes! She delivered it to our employer about twenty minutes ago. He reportedly was quite pleased. Why, you should be receiving payment in a matter of hours.”
Daniel nodded once. “Great. That’s great, Eva.”
She took his free hand in both of hers and squeezed it gently. As she did so, he felt the echoes of her emotions: puzzlement, genuine concern and empathy. “Daniel, please. Talk to me. What’s troubling you?”
He let out a weary sigh, then looked at her directly. “What’s troubling me, Eva, is that four men died today for the sake of a box. What’s troubling me is that two of them died after that box had already been stolen, just to feed the bloodlust of a man I’ve finally realized is psychotic.” He gripped her hand a little more tightly. “What’s troubling me is that I healed that psychopath and let him do what he did to those men. And finally, what’s troubling me is that I’m pretty damned sure that those men were two of my own people.”
Several emotions ran through Eva at once, but the strongest among them were guilt and shame. Daniel narrowed his eyes at her.
“You knew, didn’t you,” he said. He kept his voice quiet, but he couldn’t keep the anger from leaking out around the edges. “You knew that there were other spookies making a play for this thing, and you didn’t tell me.”
She was surprised at that, and her eyes widened to reflect it. “I thought you knew,” she said, her tone disbelieving. “Victor was supposed to brief everyone on the agents who were deemed likely to try intercepting the package. Telepaths, yes, but also mages and mundane operatives from several factions. Anyone who seemed likely to want what our employer had.” She shook her head slightly. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. He had their dossiers for two weeks before the mission!”
Daniel raised his eyebrows again. It wasn’t the words that surprised him – he wouldn’t put any deception past Victor now – but the way she said them. In her distress, the skywalker accent had vanished from her voice, leaving a simple middle-class manner of speech that was very much like Daniel’s. Just another little deception, he thought sourly. His grip tightened further on her hand.
“Daniel, please,” Eva said, her tone pleading. “I swear I wouldn’t have kept something like this from you. I thought you were angry at your people, like Victor was. He said you wanted out. I wouldn’t try to trick someone into betraying their loyalties.”
Daniel couldn’t quite read her thoughts, but her emotions indicated she was telling the truth. He relaxed his grip a little. “All right,” he said. “Prove it. Tell me who we were working for.”
She reared back as if struck. “Daniel, I can’t. Anonymity was a strict part of the contract—”
Daniel tightened his grip on her hand again. He put down his ice pack and turned to face her, straightening up to his full height so that he was looking down on her. Sure, Eva could always shift back to Evan if she wanted a fight. The emotions Daniel was picking up from her, though, told him that she wanted him to trust her, and that she was willing to stay vulnerable in order to persuade him. He wasn’t sure why she cared, but at the moment he intended to use it to his advantage.
“That’s my price, Eva,” he said. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see you as a decent person, instead of another manipulating skag like Victor? Then come clean with me. For my two dead brothers, if not for me.”
Eva winced at that. He felt her surrender a moment before she showed it, lowering her head and letting out a ragged breath. “All right,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone who told you.”
He relaxed his hold on her hand again. “I promise,” he said. “Now, who was it?”
She swallowed and took a breath before looking up at him. “My contact was a man named William Westerson. It’s not widely publicized, but he’s a captain in the service of Malcolm ard’Valos.”
Ice water ran down Daniel’s spine. It took him a moment to find his breath. “Malcolm ard’Valos? The vampire prince of Metamor City?”
She nodded heavily. “The same.”
Slowly, Daniel sank back into his seat. “Pull over,” he said softly.
Eva looked out her window and frowned. “We’re still a long way from your place—”
“I said pull over!”
Eva hurriedly grabbed the intercom and relayed the command to the driver. While he pulled off the highway and found a secluded parking lot, Daniel’s mind raced.
Malcolm ard’Valos, the kingpin of Metamor City. The Vampire Queen’s right-hand man in the imperial capital. A investment analyst by trade, and the third-richest citizen in the Empire, he spent his days as an advisor to a dozen different corporations and several influential nonprofit groups. He was never quite at the top of any official chain of command, but he was also never far from the ears of those who ostensibly made the big decisions. To all appearances he was untouchable; while word on the Street often connected his name to crimes like blackmail, protection rackets, unlicensed prostitution and drug-running, no prosecutor had ever gathered enough solid evidence to take him down. The Hive considered him and his organization the number one threat to the safety of the Collective in Metamor City.
And now Daniel was, however unofficially, a part of his payroll.
To his credit, Daniel managed not to throw up until he was outside Eva’s skimmer. But it was a very close thing, indeed.
May 28, 1995 CR.
The Elder surveyed the small apartment with calm, impassive eyes, but her nostrils flared in distaste. “I suppose that portraying this as a suicide is out of the question.”
Victor bowed his head in a show of deference. He didn’t need to look around at the broken furniture, the toppled shelves, or the thousand bits of flotsam that had once been a man’s treasured possessions. He’d been here when the destruction happened, and the place hadn’t been that all that impressive even before. “I’m afraid not, Elder. When a rogue teek decides to resist arrest, the results can be somewhat … chaotic. I regret any inconvenience I have caused for the Hive.”
The older telepath waved off the apology with one hand. She picked her way carefully through the apartment, the hem of her plain gray dress swirling around her knees. Victor admired her long, stocking-clad legs as she passed him. Though Miriam Bakhtavar was over a hundred years old, she was also one of the strongest egoists in the Collective, and her psychometabolic powers had allowed her to retain the appearance and vitality of a twenty-five year old. Her glossy black hair was plaited into a braid that came down to the middle of her back, and her olive skin glowed with a healthy, unblemished complexion that women a third her age would have killed to possess.
Victor had never noticed her beauty before, though he was certain he must have met her dozens of times. In truth, the Elders’ subtle telepathic manipulations usually made it difficult to remember anything about them, even their gender. He'd never noticed that before, either, which just showed how powerful the Elders were. No doubt they told themselves that it was a way for them to distance their personal identities from their role as the voice of the Hive, to maintain the notion that the Collective was a society without rulers. To Victor it all seemed like just another mind game, one he was glad to be rid of.
Bakhtavar passed through the living room and down the narrow hallway to the bathroom where Victor had finally ended the fight. The occupant had hoped to make use of the razor blades stored under the sink as a weapon against him, but Victor’s telekinesis had proved stronger. The man’s body lay slumped in the tub, drained white by the dozens of long, deep cuts that the whirling blades had opened across his flesh. The Elder put her hands on her hips and sighed.
“Felipe Deveraux,” she pronounced, shaking her head slightly. “So much talent, and all of it wasted.” She cast a sidelong glance at Victor. “You’re certain he was responsible for the deaths at the skyport?”
“Yes, Elder,” Victor said. “I found a doppel charm on his person that matches the appearance of the man who killed Matthews and Umbara. In addition, his personal computer contains the access codes for a numbered bank account. Three days ago a sum of one hundred and fifty thousand marks was deposited into that account from an untraceable source.”
“The vampires, no doubt,” Bakhtavar said, nodding sadly. She knelt by the side of the tub and looked into the man’s lifeless eyes. She reached out to his face with one hand, though she did not actually touch the body. “Oh, Felipe, how could you do this? How could you betray your own family?”
“Deveraux was always a loner,” Victor said gravely. “He had no telepathic talent, so his direct participation in the Collective was limited. And he did have history of mental problems – even a few arrests.”
“But nothing like this,” the Elder insisted. “He was just a troubled young man who needed help. Why he shunned our aid and went to the vampires is something I fear we shall never understand.”
“Probably not,” Victor agreed. “Again, I apologize that I was unable to capture him for interrogation.”
The woman sighed again. “Perhaps it is just as well,” she said, getting to her feet and brushing off her knees. “This entire affair was dangerously public. A quiet theft might have been ignored, given that the goods themselves were illegal, but murder at a skyport demands police involvement. This, at least, should satisfy them enough to prevent any further intrusions into our society.”
“As you say, Elder.” Victor bowed. “Would you like me to have the apartment cleaned?”
Bakhtavar pursed her lips, her cool gray eyes narrowed in thought. “Not entirely,” she said at last. “Remove all items of notable value and anything that might connect him back to the Collective. Then use a nondetection scroll to erase the evidence of our presence. The police will conclude that he was robbed by a band of rogue mages.”
“It shall be done,” Victor promised. He paused, then added, “Elder, I would like to invoke the right of bounty.”
She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
Victor put up a hand. “I realize that anything we take will have to be destroyed to prevent a sympathetic trace back to the Collective,” he said. “But the numbered account hasn’t been touched yet. If we wipe his hard drive, there’s nothing to tie it back to Deveraux.”
Bakhtavar seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, Victor. In exchange for finding the murderer and putting this matter to rest before the police could become involved, the right of bounty is granted. Felipe’s blood money is yours to do with as you wish.”
Victor bowed again. “Thank you, Elder. I am glad that my service has been of value to the Hive.”
She gave him an odd look, then passed out of the room. He followed, and when they were at the front door she paused and turned back to him. “What is on your mind, Victor?” she asked, looking concerned. “You seem troubled. Oh, on the surface you are certainly calm enough, but I look inside you and I see thoughts so scattered and fragmented that I can make no sense of them.” She reached out and took his hand – a surprisingly tender gesture for an Elder on business. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Victor lowered his head and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Elder. It’s just the job. I’ve seen too much death, over too many years.”
She squeezed his hand. “What do you need?” she asked.
He looked up at her, at the beautiful, elegant face that had been hidden for so many years behind a mask of telepathic fog. “I need to get out,” he said. “Elder, I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. We both know that the Hive is never going to approve me as a breeding cell husband. Not with all the blood on my hands.” He shook his head slightly. “After this job is done, I’m through. I’m taking Deveraux’s money and leaving active participation in the Collective. I want to start a new life for myself.” He shrugged. “Maybe I can even find a little happiness.”
Bakhtavar looked regretful, but she nodded sympathetically. “Your duties have led you down a harder path than most of us can imagine,” she said. “We’ll be sad to see you go, Victor, but we will not try to stop you. Participation in the Collective has always been voluntary, and whatever debts you might have owed to this Hive are long since paid.” She reached up and put a hand gently against his cheek. “Wherever you go, I hope that you find peace to quiet the storm inside you.”
He bowed his head. “As do I. Thank you for your understanding, Elder.”
“May the Great Maker go with you.” She drew back from him then, and they bowed to each other in parting. He used his telekinesis to open the door for her, and she nodded her thanks and left without another word.
Smiling to himself, Victor went to the bedroom at the back of the apartment and opened it. The vampire was sitting at Deveraux’s cluttered desk, looking through the man’s collection of fetish magazines with an expression that suggested a mixture of fascination and disgust. His tailored gray business suit and perfectly styled hair were a stark contrast to the slovenly nature of his surroundings.
“She’s gone,” Victor said, leaning back against the door frame and crossing his arms. “You heard?”
“I did,” the vampire said, setting down an issue of Leather & Lace and turning to face him. “And what is your assessment of the product?”
Victor grinned. “You’re getting your money’s worth. The old fool never had a clue that I was lying to her.”
The simple truth of that statement gave Victor a heady feeling of power like nothing he had ever known. He couldn’t actually feel the nanopixies at work inside his brain, or the web of neural circuitry that they had constructed in parallel to the neurons of his cerebral cortex. It was strange; he would have thought that splitting his brain’s electrical signals between neurons and wires would cause some kind of noticeable change in his conscious awareness. Apart from a nasty fever on the day the nanopixies were injected, though, nothing seemed to have changed.
Nothing, that is, except for the fact that he was now immune to telepathic intrusion.
A very small smile bent the corners of the vampire’s mouth, and his pale blue eyes glinted. “Excellent,” he said. “Then our employees will be completely protected from mind-readers?”
Victor shrugged. “The teeps will be able to pick up surface thoughts, if they’re strong enough, but memories and subsurface thoughts seem to be completely protected. I assume you already train your people to resist interrogation. Those same tactics should work well enough, now that the teeps are blocked from getting any deeper inside.”
The vampire rose to his feet. “Mister ard’Valos will be very pleased to hear that. Well done, Victor.”
Victor nodded and followed the man out of the room. “Is there anything I should know about the circuitry?” he asked. “Will it wear out? What happens if it breaks?”
“It will not wear out,” the vamp said, “and the odds of it breaking are extraordinarily small. The NPs will scavenge your bloodstream for the necessary components to build and maintain the circuitry. The laboratory’s technicians recommend taking regular mineral supplements, but you should not require any sort of external maintenance.”
“Glad to hear it,” Victor said. “You said the odds of it breaking are ‘extraordinarily small.’ What happens if it does break?”
“Your higher brain functions have automatically expanded to use the additional bandwidth we have given you. Essentially, your cortex is becoming dependent on the neural circuitry to carry out its duties.” The vampire shrugged. “In the unlikely event that the circuitry is disrupted, you may experience some temporary loss of higher brain functions until your cortex reroutes the signals through your original neural pathways. The initial clinical trials in Algra suggest that the disruption will only last a few minutes, at most.” He smiled, showing a hint of his fangs. “Really, though, as long as you stay away from lightning bolts and high-voltage power lines, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Victor chuckled. “Hey, that’s more than a fair trade-off for being psychically untouchable.” He bowed to the vamp. “Thank you again, Mr. Westerson. I’m glad we were able to do business.”
“As am I,” Westerson said, returning the bow. “I shall leave you now to attend to your cleaning duties. Good luck to you on your new life, and if you’re ever looking for further employment, please don’t hesitate to call.”
The vampire left, and Victor turned his attention back to the apartment, gathering up anything that a gang of unlicensed mages might consider worth stealing. He would take the goods to one of the enchanted waste disposal facilities on Street level, which would eradicate any sympathetic traces that might be used to find them. It was drudgery, to be sure, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that it was the last necessary step on the road to his independence. He’d known from the beginning that he’d probably need a scapegoat for his actions at the skyport, and Felipe Deveraux had fit the profile perfectly. There might be people in the Collective who would remember him, but no one would look at the matter closely enough to discover the inconsistencies. He might have been a strong telekinetic, but he had no telepathy, and was thus unimportant.
Victor caught his reflection in a mirror and smiled. He had the money, and he had his freedom. Now he just had to get the girl, and it would be a perfect happy ending.
Chapter Seven
May 29, 1995 CR.
Daniel stared at the phone in his hand, trying to summon the resolve to dial a number he’d memorized months ago. After a minute or two he set the phone down, thinking better of it. He hadn’t heard from Victor since the mission, other than a brief text message he’d received last night.
All loose ends tied up. I’m getting out tomorrow. Farewell, and thanks for watching my back. –V.
Daniel had felt like he would be sick again just looking at it. He wanted to confront Victor about the way he’d used him. He wanted to demand an explanation for why Victor was working for the vampire syndicate, and why he hadn’t shared that information with Daniel beforehand. Not that it would tell him anything he couldn’t already guess at, but he wanted to hear it from Victor himself, to hear him admit how he’d played Daniel for a fool.
I guess what I really want is just to punch him right in the face, he thought. Not that it would bring back the men he killed.
Daniel fought down the gorge in his throat. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, his thoughts kept circling back to those two dead spookies, lying on the deck of the cargo tender beside him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know who they were; by healing Victor, he’d signed their death warrants. Their faces had been appearing to him in his dreams. Of course, according to Eva, they had been wearing disguise amulets, so that didn't really tell him very much.
I wish I knew who they were, he thought. So I could at least try to do something to make amends.
Next to him the phone’s handset began to ring. He looked at the ID, which read SOMMERS. His pulse quickened; it was someone from Brian’s cell.
He pushed the talk button and raised the phone to his ear. “Rebecca?”
There was a moment of silence. Then: “Daniel. This is Fiona.”
Daniel felt a twinge of disappointment, then pushed it aside. “Hey, Fi. I haven’t talked to you in forever. What’s up?”
The egoist hesitated before speaking. “Unfortunately, I come to you as the bearer of bad news,” she said, her voice tight and controlled. “Two of our former teammates have been killed.”
Daniel felt claws sinking into his gut. Oh, Eli, no, he thought. Please, no.
“Who was it?”
“Del Matthews and Trace Umbara.”
He felt sick. He wanted to pound his head against something. He wanted to scream at himself in the mirror and curse himself for a blind fool. Gods, of course. A wolf-man and a tall, muscular man. Trace even spoke to me, and I didn’t recognize him…
Fiona was still speaking. “I fear I cannot divulge specifics over an unsecured line. If you come to visit the nest we will tell you more.”
Daniel hesitated. Visiting Rebecca’s breeding cell was always painful for him, and he avoided it when he could. “How’s everyone holding together?” he asked, carefully.
“Not well,” Fiona admitted. Daniel could hear the weariness in her voice. “All of us have been … deeply shaken by it. I have done my best to give strength to the others, but it is … difficult.” She paused. “Daniel, the funeral is tomorrow. Brian and Sasha and I believe that Rebecca would benefit from your support, if you are willing.”
“Of course,” Daniel said immediately. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “I will let her know to expect you shortly.”
“Wait!” Daniel protested. “Don’t I get to talk to her on the phone first?”
“… I do not think that would be wise,” Fiona said. “You know how she feels about speaking without telepathic contact.”
Daniel nodded to himself and sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted. “Give me half an hour.”
"Understood." Fiona hung up without any further pleasantries.
Daniel looked at the phone, then set it down and buried his head in his hands. It was worse than he'd thought: not only had Victor killed two fellow teeps, but he'd killed two of Daniel's childhood friends. He hadn't seen them lately, sure, but that didn't mean that they meant any less to him. Memories drifted back to him unbidden, a hundred incidents where they'd gotten each other into trouble — or helped each other get back out again. He thought about Trace's cheerful egomania and Del's happy-go-lucky attitude. He remembered when Del left active participation in the Collective to marry another wolf-morph. Josephine was a smart, confident and independent woman who had just enough telepathy to be compatible with Del; she had refused to join the Hive for religious reasons, and for her sake he had been willing to leave it. Daniel tried to imagine what she was going through right now, how she must have reacted when she heard the news that her husband was dead.
He started weeping almost before he realized what was happening. He tried to choke back the sobs that heaved in his chest, but the images of his friends kept appearing before his mind's eye like accusing ghosts. Eli, forgive me.
At last he willed himself to pull it together. Rebecca needed him, and he was here wallowing in his apartment. Admittedly, the last thing he wanted to do right now was go into the middle of a room full of telepaths. If any of them saw in his mind what he had helped do to Del and Trace, he was as good as dead. But this was Rebecca, and for her he'd walk into the Ninth Hell if he had to.
He went to the bathroom and washed and dried his face. His eyes were blood-shot from crying, but at least he wasn't covered with salt-encrusted tear-tracks anymore. As he headed out the door to the apartment, his eyes drifted over to the phone sitting by his chair. I just had to ask who it was I killed, he thought sourly. His eyes drifted to the ceiling. Either I just wasted an actual wish, or someone up there has a sick sense of humor.
Daniel arrived at the breeding cell's "nest" to find it eerily quiet. He knocked twice and Fiona ushered him inside. Her face was a calm mask of composure, but her emerald eyes had lost their fire. Now they just looked weary and care-worn.
Daniel looked around as he entered. "Where's Brian and Sasha?" he asked, keeping his voice down.
"Still at work," Fiona said. "Network administration and psychiatric counseling rarely allow for regular 40-hour shifts. Fortunately, I can handle my investment duties as easily here as anywhere else, so I can stay home and help Rebecca." Her forehead creased slightly. "As much as I am able."
Daniel nodded, understanding her meaning all too well. Fiona was about as well-suited to being a grief counselor as Rebecca was to being a stockbroker. "Where is she?" he asked.
"In her studio." Fiona nodded toward the hallway. "The first door on the right."
He knocked lightly before entering. "Becks?"
She did not respond immediately. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open and took a step inside.
The studio was much like the one he remembered from the apartment they had shared at university. It looked like a tornado had swept through an art museum. Blank canvases, buckets and jars of paint, brushes, used drop cloths, sketch pads and sculpting materials were scattered haphazardly around the room, pushed into corners or tucked away behind paintings and drawings in various stages of completion. The scent of drying paint hung heavy in the air.
The end of the room closest to the door held mostly finished illustrations, while the ones near the far end had been started only recently. The pictures ranged from corporate logos and conceptual drawings of offices, through cartoons and portraits, to stunning and outlandish landscapes that might well have been visions of other worlds, given the unpredictable nature of Rebecca's ESP. Nearly all of the finished works made use of the vivid and colorful style that Daniel thought of as Rebecca's trademark — optimism and irrepressible good will, infused into oil and ink and captured on canvas.
The scene at the far end of the room was a different story. Rebecca stood in her paint-splattered coveralls before a large canvas, attacking it with sharp, violent strokes of her brush. She moved like a fencer, keeping her weight on the balls of her bare feet as she darted in to strike and then withdrew again. Her swollen belly made her movements a little ungainly and awkward, but what they lacked in grace they made up for in ferocity. And the painting itself…
It took a few seconds for Daniel to realize what he was looking at. At first he saw only a jumbled swirl of black and red, with accents of putrid green. As he came closer, though, he saw that the darkness of the canvas was filled with dozens of slightly different shades and hues, which joined together to form an image that might have been better left in nightmares.
A dark warrior strode through a pile of broken and shattered bodies, his hands and arms covered in blood. The figure was abstract and distorted, giving it a surreal look, as if he were something not quite human. He wore no shirt, his hair was tangled and wild, and his eyes were huge and luminescent green, like the eyes of a predator seen at night. His mouth was open in a savage grin, baring a mouthful of narrow, pointed teeth. He wore a necklace of bones, some of them clearly human. His hands were curled into huge, deformed-looking claws, which dripped blood onto the bodies of the fallen men beneath him. Among them were a wolf-morph and a bald Irombian, their bodies torn almost in half at the warrior's feet. In the background, dogging the man's heels and hovering around his head, a crowd of small red demons watched with drooling jaws and bright, hungry eyes.
"My god," Daniel whispered.
It was incredible; it was hideous. It was perverse; it was genius. He struggled to tear his eyes away from the painting, as his admiration of Rebecca's skill warred with his utter revulsion at the subject matter. Rebecca herself seemed similarly transfixed, staring fixedly at the canvas as if in a fever dream. He forced himself to come closer, to turn his eyes away from the nightmare and onto the woman in front of it.
Rebecca's eyes glowed yellow like a pair of torches.
"Oh my god!" he said again. He got behind her, wrapped his arms around her and turned her away from the canvas, covering her eyes with one hand. She struggled against him, whimpering incoherently, but he held her close in a gentle and completely unyielding grip.
"Snap out of it, Rebecca," he urged, speaking directly into her ear. He touched her lightly with his thoughts, but he didn't allow himself to get too close. She was caught inside her own second sight, and letting himself be drawn down inside of that could well destroy his sanity. Rebecca had a lifetime of experience dealing with the visions, and even she couldn't always control herself when they came on her; a novice wouldn't stand a chance.
"Come back, Becks," he said, holding out the mental image of an outstretched hand. "Let go of it and come back to me."
"D… Daniel?" she asked, her voice little more than a ragged whisper.
"It's me," he confirmed. "Come on home, 'Becca."
She let out a long, shuddering breath and collapsed against him, his strong arms holding her up. He guided her over to the little stage she used for her modeling subjects and helped her sit down. She leaned her head against his chest and relaxed, her breathing gradually returning to normal.
Daniel looked up to see Fiona watching from the far end of the room. He gave her a sharp look. "You should have told me she was like this," he said, his tone accusing.
Fiona stepped closer, and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she didn't want to fight this time. "If I had," she said quietly, "would it have made the subways move any faster? Or would you simply have become more reckless, and possibly gotten hurt yourself in coming here?"
Daniel grimaced. "You know me way too well."
She smirked at that, but only for a moment. "She would not respond to me," she said, her eyes shifting to Rebecca. "I feared the possible consequences for both her and the child if I should rouse her forcefully."
Rebecca groaned, flexing her hand against Daniel's. She turned her head a little to look at Fiona. "Sorry, Fi," she said, sounding both exhausted and embarrassed. "I thought maybe I could esp an image of Del and Trace's murderer. I should've known better than to try to tap into something I was so angry about." She reached up and touched Daniel's cheek, softly. "You did the right thing, calling D."
He covered her hand with his own. "I'm just glad you didn’t get hurt," he said. "We've had too much tragedy as it is."
Fiona came close enough to join hands with them, and together they entered a weak gestalt. It wasn't nearly as complete as when Sasha was there to forge the link, but after a few minutes they were able to open up to each other enough to find a little strength and solace in their shared bond. Daniel lost track of time as they commiserated about their fallen friends, and when they broke the link he felt almost encouraged. Neither Fiona nor Rebecca had come anywhere near touching on the memories of his involvement with Victor, probably because the possibility hadn't entered their minds. His own guilt aside, he was glad that he was able to do something to help them cope.
Over the next hour, as they sat in the living room nursing cups of tea, Fiona explained to Daniel what had happened with their disastrous mission. It was strange to hear about the same events from the other side, feigning ignorance as she described the ridiculously unlucky turn of events that had led to her being trapped in one of Callie's force fields during her escape.
“What do the Elders plan to do about it?” Daniel asked.
“We still don’t know,” Rebecca said, looking worried. “Right now we’re just dealing with the funerals, but Brian said the Elders were really serious about getting that package. They haven’t said anything to us since the mission, and Sasha thinks that’s a bad sign.”
“It is about to get worse,” Fiona said. “Del left active participation in the Collective to marry Josephine, so they did not have fully guaranteed life and health coverage.” Her eyes narrowed to green slits. “I found out today that their life insurance company is refusing to honor Del’s policy.”
“What?! Why?”
Fiona raised a hand, palm upward, as if offering a piece of evidence for consideration. “Del’s body was identified at the scene, and several witnesses reported that he had died in the commission of a felony. That was enough to void the policy.” She dropped her hand back into her lap and averted her eyes. “Josephine is in trouble. Her religion insists on burial rather than cremation, so the funeral costs are considerable — to say nothing of the costs of day-care for an infant, if she should return to work.”
“Isn’t the Hive going to do something to help her?”
Rebecca let out a harsh laugh. Daniel winced to hear such a bitter, ugly sound coming from her throat. “Oh, sure,” she said. “They’ll help her – as long as she comes back to the Collective and joins a breeding cell.”
Daniel stared. “They must know she can’t do that. She’d have to leave the Ecclesia, and that would kill her.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rebecca said. She looked as angry as Daniel had ever seen her. “Jo and I never agreed on very much, but she’s gotta be free to do what she thinks is right. They’re trying to use money to make her do something she doesn’t want to do, and that’s just wrong.”
“I’ll say it is,” Daniel growled, feeling the same anger rising up inside himself. “How the hell could they decide on something like this without us? The whole point of the Hive is that it’s supposed to include all of us!”
“The Elders, in their infinite wisdom, decided to exclude us from the deliberations,” Fiona said, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Both as a punishment for our failure, and because they believed we could not be impartial enough to be suitably pragmatic.”
Daniel scoffed at that. He remembered Nathan’s words from a few weeks ago: the Collective was no more impartial than the emotionally turbulent members it was made of. He knew the Hive could be manipulative, but this was a new low. “And what about me?” he asked. “I wasn’t involved in your mission. Why didn’t they ask me for my input? Or Nate, or Kevin?”
Rebecca looked away, fidgeting in her seat. Fiona just raised an eyebrow. “Do you really need us to answer that question for you?” she asked.
The mildness of her words took him off guard. He lowered his eyes and felt his cheeks begin to burn. No, he really didn’t need to hear the answer. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.
“You know,” Rebecca said into the silence, “I do love the Collective. I really do. I even believe that it can make the world a better place. But at times like this, when this is how we treat people?” She looked up at them, and her eyes were dark and sad. “It’s sorta hard to remember why.”
May 30, 1995 CR. Westfall Academy.
Miriam Bakhtavar entered the girls’ dorm room with her senses on full alert. She sized up the situation in an instant: She saw the bare spots on the walls around Abbey Preston’s bed, where she had once kept pictures of herself and her friends. She saw the empty bookshelf where Abbey had kept her small collection of adventure novels, and the bedside table where she had kept her journal. She could still smell the girl, but her scent had faded slightly in comparison to that of the other three girls who shared her room. Only one of them was here now – Lysa, one of Abbey’s few close companions. The others, she knew, were at their Combat Arts class, where Lysa and Abbey should have been.
“Mistress Miriam?” Lysa said, her voice timid. The teenager’s heart rate was elevated, and the chemicals she was giving off in her sweat spoke of restless anxiety.
Miriam smiled at her kindly. She was here in her role as Deputy Headmistress, not as an Elder, so she didn’t hide her identity and emotions from the girl. “Peace, Lysa,” she said, sending her a wave of encouragement. “Tell me what happened.”
Lysa sat down on the edge of the dresser, wrapping her arms around herself. “Abbey didn’t come down for breakfast this morning,” she said. “I thought that was kind of weird, especially for her … but hey, maybe she snuck out last night or something, right?” She froze, then looked up at Miriam out of the corner of her eye. “Not that we’ve ever done anything like that,” she added quickly.
Miriam smiled wryly. “Of course not,” she agreed. “And after breakfast?”
“She didn’t show up at our first class, either,” Lysa said. “But it was just Elven Literature, which is boring anyway, so I thought maybe she skipped it. But then she didn’t show at Combat Arts, either, and I knew something was wrong. Abbey practically lives in the samnak.”
Miriam frowned. She knew Abbey’s record, and Lysa was not exaggerating by much. “Go on.”
“I thought maybe she was sick, so I came back to the dorm to check on her. That’s when I found these.” She pulled two stationery envelopes out of her back pocket and handed them to Miriam. One of them bore Lysa’s name and was opened; the other was still sealed, and addressed to Miriam herself.
Lysa’s letter was written with purple ink in a loopy, feminine script. The letter had been written with obvious care, neatly staying within the guide rules of the stationery, but the frequent use of underlines and capital letters betrayed the author’s excitement:
Dear Lysa,
I’m writing this letter to say good-bye, at least for now. I really wish I could have told you sooner, but Victor said that THEY would try to stop me from going, so we had to keep it a secret.
Everything I always wished for is coming true, Lysa! It’s just like the old stories. Victor is my brave knight coming to take me away to a NEW life. THEY wouldn’t let him marry me here in the Hive – they’re jealous of him, and some of the older women have spread horrible stories about him to try to keep him from ever being happy. But I know my knight, and he would never hurt me. They’re all wrong about him, and WE’RE going to prove it.
It hurts so bad to know that I’m not going to see you again for a long time. You’re my BEST friend in the whole world, and I will never, ever forget you! I promise I’ll come find you again when I can, but Victor says it might be a couple years. We need to have a few kids first, and once THEY see how strong and beautiful they are, they’ll have to welcome us back! Don’t try to come looking for me, ‘cause we’re probably gonna have to hide for a while. Stay and finish school, and when I see you again we’ll link up and you can show me all the stuff I missed. Try not to sleep through Elven Lit! ;-)
Okay, I have to go now. Keep it on the bright side ‘til I see you again!
Love you forever,
Abs
A lipstick kiss had been pressed into the paper next to the girl’s closing words. Miriam raised her eyebrows and handed it back to Lysa without comment. Lysa folded it and put it back in her pocket, blushing.
Miriam opened the second envelope and unfolded the letter. Both it and the name on the envelope had been written in black, using a strong, heavy hand that was very different from Abbey’s. The penmanship was clean but sharp and angular, and the back side of the letter was covered with embossed lines where the pen’s nib had bit hard into the surface.
Elder Bakhtavar:
Abbey is safe with me. I trust that you will not make this a point of contention between us; she came to me of her own free will and, as you said, participation in the Collective is voluntary.
All of Abbey’s debts to the Collective have been paid. She is a free woman. I promise you I will keep her safe as long as she stays with me, which I trust will be a good many years.
Good luck to all of you in your future battles. For us the fight is over, and I go to enjoy the fruits of Victory.
V.
“Mistress Miriam?”
The voice came from beside her. She turned to see that Lysa had been reading over her shoulder. If possible, she looked even more worried now than she had before, and Miriam’s nose told her the teenager had broken out in a cold sweat.
“What’s going on here?” Lysa asked. “Teachers aren’t supposed to marry their students, are they? That’s not … normal.”
Miriam’s grip tightened around the letter. “No, Lysa. It isn’t normal.” I should have seen this coming, she thought. I should have anticipated it. Abbey was always too close to Victor. Great Maker, how could I not have heard this in his mind?
Lysa put a hand on her arm. “What are you going to do?”
Miriam looked down at the letter again. ”I will keep her safe as long as she stays with me, which I trust will be a good many years.” Hells, Victor. You always had a way with words.
“For now, nothing,” she said heavily.
“But Kano Victor—"
"Kano Victor is right in one sense,” Miriam said firmly. “We cannot hunt Abbey down and hold her against her will. Young and naïve as she may be, she is a free woman, and we are not her parents.” She took Lysa’s hand in hers. “Abbey knows where to find us. We will watch for her, and when she is ready, we will bring her home.”
Lysa nodded, and Miriam turned to leave.
And I will pray, she thought, that I am not making another grave mistake.
Chapter Eight
Del’s funeral was held in the town of Glen Avery, a small but ancient community that sat nestled between the towers of Metamor City and the peaks of the Dragon Mountains. The Glen was home to the last remaining old-growth forest in the kingdom of Metamor, and its people built their homes and businesses around the ancient trees rather than cutting them down. Skimmers were prohibited inside the Glen, and the single maglev tube that passed through it made only two stops within its borders. It was a quiet and peaceful community, where theriomorphs like Del and Josephine made up more than two thirds of the population. It was also one of the few places in the Valley where one could walk safely at ground level, which made it one of the few viable locations for an Ecclesiast cemetery.
Daniel watched in silence as Del’s priest led them through the burial rites. Josephine stood at the front of the small crowd, her glossy white fur a striking contrast to her black mourning dress. Her mother stood beside her and held little Elizabeth in her arms, shushing the infant when she started to whine for her mother. Josephine barely moved at all through the ceremony. Her wolfish face looked like a mask, rigid and empty. She’s burying a part of herself today, too, Daniel thought.
Rebecca’s grip on his hand tightened, and he heard her choke back a sob. She must have picked up on what he was thinking, or come to the same conclusion herself. Jo had never been close to the rest of them the way that Del and Trace had been, but she was still family.
Not that the rest of the Hive apparently felt that way. Damn it, she deserves better than to be left out in the cold like this.
The priest concluded his reading from the prayer book, then raised his eyes and beckoned. Four men in black suits came forward and lowered Del’s coffin into the ground. One of them handed a shovel to Josephine. She moved stiffly forward to the edge of the grave, the shovel in one hand and a single rose in the other. She bowed her head and murmured something that Daniel couldn’t hear, then let the rose fall into the grave. A single spadeful of dirt followed a moment later. She stared down into the earth for a long moment before handing the shovel back to the man and returning to stand beside her mother.
The priest spoke. “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Yahshua, we commend to Almighty Eli our brother Del Matthews, and we commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May Eli bless him and keep him. May He make His face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord lift up his countenance upon him, and give him peace. Amen.”
“Amen,” Daniel whispered. He wiped the tears out of his eyes, and put his arm around Rebecca as she leaned against him. Her thoughts wrapped around his, raw with grief for Del and sympathy for Josephine and her daughter. The priest led them in a responsive reading and a final benediction, but Daniel barely heard any of it. His attention was focused on Josephine, who stared straight ahead and clutched at her mother’s arm like it was the only thing keeping her from falling.
Daniel thought he could see the weight of her situation pressing down on her. Without Del’s income and with an infant child to care for, the chances of her making it on her own were small. Her mother was not wealthy, and her father was long dead. Little Elizabeth would have to go into day care if Jo went back to work, and the cost would be financially devastating. Even with government assistance, she had little to look forward to but an endless succession of long workdays and a small mountain of debt from funeral and child care costs.
There was an out for her, of course: if she came back to the Collective, she wouldn’t have to worry about child care, health care, or even the cost of the funeral. Trace’s four wives were grieving now, but at least they didn’t have the added burden of worrying about how they would provide for their children. Josephine could have that kind of protection, too – but to get it, she would have to violate her religion’s teachings by joining a breeding cell.
Damn it, he thought again. This isn’t fair! She shouldn’t have to choose between her conscience and her daughter’s well-being.
That thought was followed soon after by another: Fine. So what are you going to do about it?
He blinked and looked around. For a moment he thought he’d picked up the question from someone else, but it didn’t sound like Rebecca’s thoughts.
He saw Brian, Sasha and Fiona approaching. It hadn’t sounded like any of them, either, and Daniel really didn’t want to give Sasha a chance to overhear anything he might be thinking. He turned to Rebecca.
“Excuse me,” he said to her. “I’ve gotta get going. Talk to you later?”
She looked over at Brian and the others, then looked back. “Okay,” she said, nodding. He knew she would probably blame his sudden departure on jealousy toward Brian, and he was more than willing to let her keep thinking that. After giving her hand one final squeeze, he stepped away from the crowd and into the trees. He stopped when he could no longer hear the conversations from the other guests. He leaned up against an ancient oak and stared up at the branches, thinking.
What are you going to do about it? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the question had come from inside his own mind, not from one of the telepaths present at the funeral.
What do I mean, what am I going to do about it?
A scornful part of his mind laughed at him. Stop dicking around, it said. You said you wanted to do something to atone for what you did. Well, here’s your chance: you’ve got an anonymous bank account full of untraceable cash. Use it.
Daniel closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tree. That was supposed to be my shot at a future for me and Rebecca, he thought. Our chance to get away from the Hive.
And if you do that, the voice said, and in the process Josephine gets stuck there in your place, are you really going to be able to live with yourself?
Daniel winced. He already knew the answer.
Damn it, he thought. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
His cynical side seemed to grin at him. Look on the bright side: Becks probably wouldn’t have left her cell for you, anyway. At least this way you’re doing something good with that blood money of yours.
Daniel growled and stalked back toward the gravesite. “My brain talks too much,” he muttered.
He found Josephine kneeling by the grave, watching silently as the men filled it with dirt. He put a hand gently on her shoulder.
“Jo,” he said softly. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
She looked up at him, staring blankly for a moment before her eyes came into focus. “…Oh,” she said, her voice coming out thready. “Daniel. Yes, I-I suppose.”
He knelt down beside her, ignoring the fact that he was getting dirt all over his best pair of slacks. “Listen,” he said. “Some of us heard about what the Hive is trying to do to you. It’s sick and wrong, and we want to help.”
She opened her mouth, then apparently thought better of it. She nodded for him to continue.
Daniel pulled out a business card that he’d been carrying around for the last few days. “Some of Del’s friends got together and chipped in what we could to help out you and Elizabeth,” he said, handing her the card. “There’s a numbered account at this bank with fifty thousand marks in it. The access information is on the back of the card. We want you to have it all.”
She stared at him, her lupine jaws falling open. In any other circumstances it might have been funny.
“Daniel,” she breathed. “Dear Lord … fifty thousand? Where did you get that much?”
Daniel shrugged and gestured vaguely with one hand. “Del was a good guy,” he said. “He had a lot of friends. The others want to stay anonymous, though, in case the Hive might try to punish them for helping you.” His lip twisted into a wry half-smile. “They can’t like me any less than they already do, so I volunteered to be the one to tell you.”
She laughed at that, despite her tears, and held the little card over her heart like an answered prayer. “Daniel, I … thank you. The last few days … any time I’m not thinking about Del, I’m thinking about Lizza and how I’m going to take care of her.” She reached out and hugged him tightly. “This is an answer to so many prayers,” she said. Then her voice broke, and she simply held him and wept. Her thoughts meshed with his, and he felt her mixture of grief, gratitude, and profound relief. He offered her what strength he could, but he didn’t open up to her with anything more than his emotions. He didn’t want her to know where the money had really come from.
Daniel held her until she got herself back under control again. When he helped her to her feet, she looked a little stronger than she had during the service. She was still in horrible pain, of course, but she seemed to be better able to face it now instead of shutting herself down. Daniel was relieved to see that; Elizabeth would need her mother. If Jo closed off her emotions, at this early stage in her life, the child might be permanently scarred by it.
He ushered her back to where her mother and Elizabeth were waiting. Josephine took her daughter in her arms, smiling through her tears as she showed her to Daniel. Daniel stroked the white-furred baby behind the ears, and she opened her mouth in a yawn and squeaked. Daniel and Josephine shared a laugh at that, and it eased some of the heaviness around their hearts. Daniel planted a gentle kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead before embracing Jo one last time.
“Take good care of her,” he said softly. “Hopefully you can find something that lets you spend plenty of time with her.”
Josephine nodded. “With the seed money you gave us … yeah, I think we can work it out.” She shrugged, putting on a brave face. “Always wanted to try starting my own business.”
Daniel put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be great at it,” he promised. “Call Fiona if you need any help sorting out the finances; she’s a genius at that stuff.” He leaned in close. “Just don’t tell her where you got the money. She’d spend the next six months hunting us all down just so she can get our taxes straight.”
The wolf-woman bared her teeth at that, and it took one long, frightening moment before Daniel recognized it as a grin. Mercifully, it only lasted a few seconds. “I won’t breathe a word of it,” she promised. She stepped back and took his hand in hers. “Thank you again, Daniel. For everything. Eli bless you!”
Daniel nodded and squeezed her hand in parting. “Take care, Jo.”
As he began walking out of the cemetery, Daniel felt some of the burden of guilt slip from his shoulders. While he couldn’t deny that his actions had helped lead to Del and Trace’s deaths, he at least could take solace in the fact that he hadn’t profited by them. Hell, the vampire syndicate had unwittingly paid for Del’s widow to start a new life, which had to set some kind of record for irony.
Everything I did, I did for the sake of life, Daniel told himself. I was stupid and gullible and should have seen what Victor was a lot sooner, but I saved his life because … well, because that’s what I do. I’m a healer. And I can’t bring Del back, but maybe I helped Jo to start down the path to healing.
He nodded at that. He’d done everything that could be done to balance the scales over Del and Trace’s deaths. He was right back where he started, as trapped as ever, but he could live with himself. He’d given up the promise of his own future in order to make one for Josephine. In his heart of hearts, he could accept that. It felt like justice.
He hoped that the satisfaction of that truth would be enough to sustain him through the mediocre, dead-end life that was probably waiting for him in the Collective.
There was a familiar figure waiting for him by the entrance to the cemetery. She was wearing a short black dress with a matching sunhat and sunglasses, and she leaned back against a tree and watched as he approached.
Daniel scowled at her. “Come to enjoy the fruits of your labor?” he asked nastily.
She drew back at that, clearly stung. Eva Selindi pulled off her sunglasses and stared at him, hurt mingling with outrage on her face. “Do you think I wanted this?” she snapped.
He drew in a breath to shout at her, then abruptly stopped and let it out again. He’d be a damned hypocrite to hold Eva responsible for Del and Trace’s deaths when he’d just finished settling his own karmic tab. “No,” he admitted, lowering his head.
She sighed. “Look, after our last talk I did some checking to find out who Victor killed. When I realized they had been friends of yours…” She shrugged. "I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. Someone you don't have to hide from."
He looked up at her. "Yeah," he said, hoarsely. "Yeah, I could."
She took his arm in hers and started walking him toward the maglev station. “Come on,” she said. “I know a good Sathmoran pub a couple of stops from here. If there's a better place in the world to drown your sorrows, I've never heard of it."
It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the pub. Daniel looked around at the dimly lit booths that lined the walls and the horseshoe-shaped bar that protruded out into the center of the room. The intervening space was filled with small tables, each with four chairs around it; they weren’t big enough for four people to eat a proper meal in comfort, but as a place to hold drinks they were more than sufficient. A crowd of happy-hour clients filled the room, most of them men stopping off for a drink on the way home from work.
Eva sized up the clientele and grimaced. “Bad timing,” she muttered, backing out of the entrance. “I can’t go in like this or I’ll be propositioned every five minutes.”
Daniel looked at her with concern. “Should we try somewhere else?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Eva assured him. “Just give me a moment here…”
She reached down to her belt and did something with her thumb on the underside of the buckle. As Daniel watched, her black dress reshaped itself into a buttoned shirt and slacks, while her shoes changed from open-toed sandals with 6-centimeter heels to black loafers. The sunhat’s brim contracted as it turned itself into a fedora. Then Eva herself changed, her body shifting form even more quickly than the outfit.
“There. That’s better,” Evan said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “We’ll draw a lot less attention this way.”
Daniel shook his head in amazement. “I have got to get myself an outfit like that. How much did it cost?”
Evan grinned. “Hell if I know. I got it from a wizard in exchange for helping him with a problem. Probably worth more than I make in a year, though.” He opened the door to the pub and gestured for Daniel to go in.
They seated themselves at one of the booths near the back, away from the bulk of the crowd. Evan went up to the bar to place their order, and returned a minute later with two pints of stout ale.
“To absent friends,” he said soberly, raising his glass.
Daniel lifted his own glass and clinked it against Evan’s. “Hear, hear,” he said quietly, and took a long pull from the drink. His eyes widened at the taste. “This is good stuff,” he said appreciatively. “Kelligan’s?”
Evan shook his head. “Microbrew. Mac makes it himself on the next floor down.”
Daniel took another drink, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing. “Tastes like … is that oatmeal?” Evan nodded, and Daniel chuckled.
“There, you see?” Evan said, gesturing at him as he took another drink. “As a wise man once said, ‘beer is proof that the All-Father loves us and wants us to be happy.’ ”
Daniel paused in mid-sip, then set the beer down. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Things didn’t exactly turn out so well for Del. Or Trace.” He lowered his eyes to the table. “Or me.”
Evan took a long drink from his own glass before replying. “You want to talk about it?”
Daniel shrugged. “Want to, yeah. Should? Probably not.” He lifted his eyes to Evan’s. “No offense, Evan. I like you and all, but you work for the syndicate. I think Victor’s already told the vamps more than we ever wanted them to know about the Collective.”
Evan frowned. “There it is again,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “More of the us-versus-them talk.”
Daniel looked up at him questioningly. Evan spread his hands. “Every spooky I talk to seems to live in this paranoid world where everyone’s out to get them. This despite the fact that there’s never been a major case of discrimination against telepaths anywhere in the world!” He leaned in close over the table. “I’ve played straight with you, Daniel. Eva’s told you things that would get us in a lot of trouble if anyone ever found out. Don’t you think you owe me at least a little bit of trust in return?”
Daniel looked away, blushing. In the silence that followed, a waitress brought them two dishes of shepherd’s pie and a plate of chips. Evan ground sea salt over the deep-fried potato wedges and sprinkled them with malt vinegar, then took one and leaned back as he ate it, still waiting for a response.
To the Ninth with it, Daniel thought. I’m already in trouble if anyone finds out. Besides, he has a point.
“You’re right,” he said, turning his gaze back to Evan. “You have trusted me, and I appreciate that. But I want you to promise me that you won’t share any of this with anyone else, all right? Not your friends, not your family, and especially not with any vamps.”
Evan nodded. “You have my word. And for the record, I’m more of an independent contractor than a part of the organization. They can’t force me to tell them anything, and the Lothanasi will make them regret it if they try.”
“Good enough.” Daniel took one of the chips and regarded it for a moment before biting off the end. The malt vinegar wasn’t bad, he decided, though he preferred ketchup. Then, after taking another drink from the oatmeal stout, he began to talk.
He did not tell Evan everything, but he told him a lot: about the telepaths’ fears of extinction, and the consequent drive to reproduce; about the breeding cell structure, and the way low-powered males were marginalized in telepath culture; about his debts to the Hive, and the way their all-expenses-paid society had essentially bound him in a set of velvet-covered chains. Evan broke in from time to time to ask a question, but for the most part he just sat quietly and gave Daniel a chance to vent.
“It’s not that I hate my job,” Daniel said. “I don’t. I’m good at what I do, and I use it to help people. And it’s not that I hate the Collective, either. We’re building a society with no sickness, no poverty, no racism … when it finally becomes what it’s meant to be, it will be beautiful. It’s just, the way things are right now…” He gestured helplessly.
“The way things are right now, you’re not enjoying the benefits of that ideal future,” Evan said. “The Collective thinks it’s at war — or will be soon – and you can’t get anywhere in a warlike culture unless you’re strong enough to make the cut for the army.”
Daniel frowned. “I wouldn’t call us warlike,” he said, a little defensively. “All we really want is to be allowed to live our lives in peace.”
“It’s not a question of what you want,” Evan said. “No sane person ever wants a war. But if you see outsiders as a threat and believe that an armed defense is the only way you’re going to be safe from them, then you’re going to find yourselves in the middle of a war whether you want one or not. Warlike societies don’t fight because they like fighting; they fight because they’re convinced that it’s the only solution. Remember, the first two people killed at the skyport were both normals, not spookies.” Evan smiled humorlessly. “When the only spell you have is a fireball scroll, every problem looks like a pile of kindling.”
Daniel considered that as he picked at the remains of his shepherd’s pie. Evan’s words reminded him of what Nathan had said about perception being more important to the Hive’s behavior than reality. Could it be that the Collective’s own fear of conflict was the very thing driving them towards it?
“Assuming you’re right, what can we do about it?”
Evan shrugged. “I think the more immediate question is how you can work with the system you’re stuck in. I’m assuming you don’t actually want to give up on the Collective, right?”
Daniel sighed. “Not really. I just don’t see how I’m ever going to be satisfied with the life that the Hive has planned for me.”
“Right,” Evan said. He leaned forward and gave Daniel a conspiratorial smile. “So change the plan.”
“Change the—how?”
Evan cast a look around the room to see if anyone was watching. When the androgyne’s head turned back to Daniel, Eva was grinning impishly. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.
Daniel’s jaw dropped. For a full minute he sat there, saying nothing, while Eva drank her ale and watched him, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Never thought of that, did you?” she asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No.”
“But it would work, wouldn’t it?” she pressed. “If you became an androgyne, your female side would be dominant. You wouldn’t have any limit on how much time you could spend as a woman, so you’d be able to bear children for the Collective. You’d instantly go from being unwanted and unnecessary to being one of their most valuable members.”
Daniel nodded distractedly. In all the times he had reflected on his situation, the idea of accepting the Curse of Metamor had never occurred to him. Eva was right; as a woman, he — she — would be welcomed into a breeding cell without hesitation. Every population is limited by the number of fertile wombs available, their instructors had said. Every woman of child-bearing age must be prepared to … oh, gods—
“I – I don’t think I could do it,” he said, looking back at Eva. “I’d have to … I’m not attracted to men.”
Eva snorted. “Is that all?” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “The sex-swap will help with that, believe me. Evan doesn’t like having sex with men, either. Give the body’s hormones a little credit.”
Daniel’s mouth felt dry. He took another swig of beer and swallowed hard. “But you’ve been an androgyne for most of your life, haven’t you?”
Eva nodded. “I’m fifth-generation. My parents had Evan take the Curse just after his first birthday.”
“Right,” Daniel said. “The Curse gets stronger when it's reinforced in successive generations. With your family passing down the same Curse so many times in a row, you and Evan are almost two different people. You’ve been his alter-ego for as long as either of you can remember. Evan’s never had to deal with your attraction to men because he has you to process and interpret those feelings.” He picked up a chip and pointed it at Eva before eating it. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Eva shifted in her seat, and her eyes fell to her beer. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted.
“And that’s the problem. I don’t have a lifetime of experience as a woman to help me with this.” He sighed. “It’s a brilliant idea, I’ll admit, but I’m not sure I could go through with it.”
Eva shook her head. “I don’t think it’s as big a problem as you’re making it out to be, Daniel. I know first-generation teegees who haven’t had any trouble making the transition. You might find it’s easier than you think.”
“Maybe,” Daniel allowed. “But it’s not exactly something you can undo once you’ve done it.”
Eva’s eyes went distant and thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe,” she said. Then her eyes snapped back to Daniel, and she smiled. “Maybe not. I have an idea.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”
“A test drive!” she said. “There are temporary spells that can duplicate the effects of the Curse. If I can get one for you, will you try it out?”
Daniel hesitated. “I gave my payoff to Del’s widow, Eva. I don’t think I have the money for that kind of magic.”
“Pish posh,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ll take care of it. I’m still in good with that wizard, and this sort of thing is his specialty.” Her expression sobered. “Besides, I want to help. I can’t bring back your friends, but maybe I can at least help you find a better life for yourself.”
Daniel looked at her and saw sincerity in those spellcrafted violet eyes. He raised his hands in surrender. “All right,” he said. “I’ll give it a try.”
She gave him a dazzling grin. “Brilliant,” she said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow after work, then. We’ll have the whole weekend to put you in touch with your feminine side."
Chapter Nine
Friday, May 31.
The knock at the door came at a quarter to seven, just as they had arranged. Daniel opened the door and was greeted by the very agreeable sight of Eva in a little black cocktail dress. The outfit practically qualified as public lingerie, with a neckline that showed a generous amount of cleavage and a skirt that was slit almost to the waist along one thigh. Her liquid-gold hair had been teased and coiffed into thick, silky waves that hung loose around her shoulders, with only a few subtle hairpins holding it back around her face. A pair of black heels showed off her perfect legs and put her at eye level with Daniel, who was currently barefoot. She was, in a word, extraordinary.
Eva lifted a garment bag and handed it to Daniel. “ ‘Ello, darling!” she said, smiling brilliantly as she put on her faux skywalker accent. “Are you ready to rock the town tonight?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Daniel said, returning the smile. “Please, come in.”
She cast an appraising look around the apartment as she entered. “Your flat-mates are out, I take it?”
Daniel nodded. “Kevin’s meeting his boyfriend for dinner, and Nathan’s at a concert. It’s just as well – I’d rather not deal with the questions right now.” He raised the garment bag questioningly. “What have I got here, one of your outfits?”
“Absolutely, darling. The clothes are spellwoven to fit anyone, so you needn’t worry about the size. Here, you’ll need this.” She fished around in her purse for a moment and drew out a small screwcap vial made of amber glass, which she handed to him. “Artax assures me that this potion will precisely mimic the effects of the androgyne Curse. What you see is what you’ll get, if you decide to go through with it.”
Daniel looked at the vial with interest. It had a store label on it; apparently the potion was from someplace called “SPELLS 4 U,” which didn’t strike him as the name of a respectable establishment. Then again, this was supposedly the same wizard who had created Eva’s shape-shifting garment, so he obviously knew more than a little about transmutation magic. Below the store logo was a description of the potion and a list of warnings in small type: Not recommended for use by androgynes. Do not combine with other transmutation spells. Do not take if pregnant or nursing. Do not take while operating heavy machinery. Remove clothing before taking. Keep out of reach of children.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, looking up at her.
Eva rolled her eyes. “Heavens, no. Mostly it just tingles a bit. Well,” she amended, “I suppose it might be uncomfortable if you didn’t remove your clothes first.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gestured at the couch and chairs in the adjoining living room. “Make yourself at home; I guess I’m going to go change.”
“Indeed you are,” she said, grinning. “Sit down when you do. I’m told the first time can be a bit disorienting.”
Nodding his thanks, he took the garment bag in one hand and the vial in the other and went into the bathroom. He hung the bag on the shower curtain rod and stripped out of his clothes before turning his attention back to the vial. A thin plastic wrapper covered the screwcap, and its holographic seal attested that the potion had been approved by the Bureau of Magic Regulation. He removed the wrapper and opened the vial, setting the cap aside. The dark, clear liquid inside smelled like strawberries and cinnamon.
He sat down on the lid of the toilet and faced the mirror, holding the vial to his lips. “Here goes nothing,” he said, and downed the potion.
The stuff burned on the way down; Daniel guessed that the wizard must have used some sort of liquor as the base. He felt a warm sensation as it settled into his stomach. Where that feeling would have quickly dissipated with a normal drink, however, Daniel now felt it growing inside him. The warmth spread across his stomach, up into his torso and down into his groin, and finally to his head and extremities, until it felt like he was glowing beneath his skin.
Then, almost before he knew it was happening, his body began to change.
It started with a prickling, pins-and-needles sensation along his arms, upper legs and chest. Daniel looked down and saw his body hair receding, leaving behind only a fine layer of almost invisible peach-fuzz against his mocha-brown skin. The odd feeling spread up his neck and into his cheeks, eradicating his five-o-clock shadow and leaving the skin as soft as a newborn’s. A moment later he could feel the bones and cartilage shifting in his face, altering his features. He didn’t have time to watch the changes in detail, though, because by then too many things were happening to him at once.
He saw his muscular arms and legs redefine themselves, becoming smooth and slender. The changes then spread to his neck, and he watched in the mirror as his Adam’s apple vanished and the musculature of his neck and shoulders became more effeminate. His ribcage and waist reshaped themselves in subtle ways as his hips shifted and broadened. Then the tingling concentrated itself around his groin, and he gasped at the wave of sensation that passed through him.
Though this was by far the most dramatic change, Daniel was too distracted to watch the process in detail. The transformation set his nerve endings alight, and in seconds his pleasure centers were in the midst of sensory overload. He felt a strong pulling sensation, followed by a churning rearrangement of his internal anatomy, but those signals were nearly drowned out as his body responded to its most sensitive region being abruptly restructured. Daniel heard a soft, feminine moan of pure ecstasy, and it took a moment before he recognized that it had come from himself.
The pleasurable haze diminished, but not completely; as Daniel opened his eyes, he felt the tingling concentrate itself around his chest. He watched as his nipples engorged themselves, tripling in size and darkening to the color of chocolate. Daniel reached up to touch them, and newly sensitive nerve endings sent little electric bolts of pleasure down his body, grounding themselves in the soft folds of tissue that now waited between his – no, her legs. Then the flesh beneath the nipples began to expand, swelling outward until two perfect breasts filled her hands – and then became more than an easy handful. Daniel felt the new weight settle against her chest, but her pecs and back muscles were still strong and she found that the feeling didn’t bother her. Of course, the fact that the transformation had felt better than it had any right to might have had something to do with that. Daniel hadn’t felt this good since his all-day romp with Rebecca after final exams three years ago.
Daniel stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Even knowing roughly what to expect, the results astonished her. She had lost a few centimeters of height, but she was still quite tall for a woman – one seventy-seven or one seventy-eight, she guessed, much like Eva herself. Her long arms and legs, slender waist, muscular abs and shapely breasts made her look like the long-lost goddess of athletics.
Her hair fell around her shoulders in glossy black waves. When did that happen? she wondered – but any further pondering on that subject was postponed when she looked at her face. While Daniel had always known he was good-looking, as a woman she was simply gorgeous. Her high cheekbones, straight nose and blue eyes gave homage to her Kitchlander ancestors, while her full lips and dark skin reflected her Irombian heritage and her thick, wavy black hair was proof of her Sonngefilder blood. The end result of this diverse ethnic mixture was an exotic beauty so captivating that Daniel was pretty sure it could stop traffic.
“Damn,” she murmured, surprising herself again with the rich contralto of her own voice. “If this is what the Curse can do, no wonder people take it.”
She looked down at her body again, studying it more closely. Though her arms and legs were much leaner than they had been, her background in medicine told her not to worry: a woman’s muscles were denser and more compact than a man’s at an equivalent level of strength. She flexed her arms experimentally, and could feel that her muscle tone was still intact, though the muscles didn’t “pop” as much as they once had.
Looking further down, she saw that the spell hadn’t taken any aesthetic license with her body hair. Though her arms, chest and upper legs were now smooth and bare, her lower legs were almost as hairy as they had been when she was a man. Daniel suspected she would have to do something about that, given Eva’s taste in evening wear.
Opening up the garment bag, Daniel pulled out her new wardrobe and examined it carefully. The dress was a vivid crimson, with a v-neck and flutter sleeves. She held it up against her body, liking the way the color complemented her dark skin. The hemline fell a few centimeters above her knees, short but not so short that she would feel immodest.
Along with the dress, the bag included a pair of matching red low-heeled shoes, stockings, a garter belt, low-rise hiphugger panties, and a demi cup bra. The undergarments were made of smooth fabric with no prominent lines or seams, probably to keep them from showing through under a tight-fitting dress. The stockings were sheer, with about a decimeter of black lace near the top. Daniel looked from the clothes to her body and back again. Some judicious hair removal was definitely in order.
She fished around under the sink for a minute and pulled out Kevin’s bottle of depilatory cream. Unlike its mundane equivalents, the alchemical substance was both fast-acting and gentle on the skin. Squeezing a dollop of the cream into her hands, she ran it over her legs and under her arms. The hair came off almost instantaneously, leaving her skin smooth and tingling in its wake. Her eyes fell on the thin, stretchy fabric of the panties, and after a moment’s thought she did the same to the area between her legs. After washing the remaining cream from her hands and wiping herself down with a damp washcloth, Daniel turned her attention to getting dressed.
After living with Rebecca for four years, Daniel was familiar with women’s undergarments and how they were put on. Actually, she was better-acquainted with how they were removed, but her eye for detail was keen enough that she had little trouble now. She knew enough to put on the garter belt and stockings before the panties, thereby making any late-night visits to the restroom that much easier; the bra gave her a little more trouble, but she figured out the clasps after fumbling with them for a minute or so. The bra’s material was loose and unsupportive at first, but as soon as clasps had closed the spellwoven garment tightened around her. In the space of a few seconds it molded itself to fit her breasts, lifting and supporting them without becoming too tight.
“That is really arc,” she murmured, wondering again at how much money Eva must make in a year.
She put on the dress and shoes, then turned this way and that in front of the mirror, looking at herself from all angles. The dress hugged close to her abdomen and upper body, but it flared out below the waist, which made it easy to move in. The heels were low enough that they felt only a little awkward, for which Daniel was grateful. He’d seen more than a few college students turn themselves into women for Daedra’kema, and they always embarrassed themselves if they tried to wear high heels without any prior experience.
A knock sounded at the door. “Daniel? Are you all right in there?”
Smiling, Daniel turned and slowly opened the door, putting her other hand on her hip in what she hoped was a suitably sexy pose. It must have worked, because Eva’s eyes widened as she looked Daniel up and down. A slow grin spread over her face.
“Brilliant,” she said, beaming.
Daniel ran a hand through her long black hair. “You like?” she asked. Her voice came out as a sexy purr, which she found both satisfying and a little disturbing.
Eva licked her lips. “Danni, darling, if you weren’t off-limits, I don’t think we’d be leaving this apartment. And I speak for both myself and Evan with that sentiment.”
Daniel chuckled. “Danni, is it?”
“Well, we can’t very well keep calling you Daniel,” Eva said reasonably. “Turn around and let me see how it fits you.”
Daniel – Danni, rather – did as Eva asked, turning in a slow circle. “Very nice. I knew red would be a good color for you. How are the shoes?”
“Not too bad, I think. I’ll have to try walking with them to be sure.”
“You’ll get plenty of chance for that. I don’t have any makeup for someone with your skin tone, so we’ll need to stop at the store before we go to the club.”
Danni looked down at her outfit. “I hope you brought a spare purse,” she said with a smirk. “The dress is beautiful, but I can’t carry a thing in it. I barely have enough room for my dignity.”
Eva laughed and put her arm around Danni. “Good, you have a sense of humor! Hold on to that and you’ll be fine.”
“Glad to hear it. And the purse?”
“In the skimmer,” Eva promised. “Come on, let’s go. The city’s waking up, and you’re going to see it like you never have before.”
The nightclub known as Parallax was already fairly crowded when Danni and Eva arrived an hour later, though a line had yet to form outside the door. The bouncer grinned at them appreciatively as he checked their ID cards, which made Danni blush. As a former skyball captain she was used to people staring at her, but it was different when it was a tall, muscular man who was actively admiring her cleavage. She wasn’t angry at him, and she didn’t feel threatened – she probably would have stared, too, in his place, and with her martial arts training she was sure she could take him – but the simple fact that she was an object of male desire was going to take some getting used to.
Better learn to deal with it, “Danni,” she told herself. If this is really going to be your ticket into a breeding cell, you’re going to be getting a whole lot more than just admiring looks.
Parallax was a midscale club located on the second skyway level in the downtown district of Metamor City. Danni had chosen it because it was owned by a telepath who had only loose ties to the Collective. The club catered to both spookies and mundies, but the psis they met here were more likely to be disaffected outsiders than full members of the Hive. Danni felt more at home here than at the Collective’s all-teep dance parties, and she couldn’t have brought Eva to one of those anyway.
Danni and Eva entrusted their purses to the employee at the bag and coat check. In exchange they each received a drink card attached to a lanyard, which served both as a claim ticket and as a way to keep track of their bar tab. Slipping the lanyards around their necks, they threaded their way through the loose crowd of people chatting near the entrance and into the heart of the club.
The room smelled of sweat and perfume, with faint accents of tobacco and cannabis from guests who had smuggled in cigs or cabs. Strobe lights and lasers flashed in the darkness. A faint haze emanated from hidden fog machines, giving form and substance to the multicolored beams of light that danced over the heads of the crowd. The club’s powerful speakers thrummed with chagak, a style of music that was best described as the bastard child of lutin tribal rhythms and electric instruments. People of all colors and species writhed and spun under the music’s influence. In several spots on the floor they had formed into spontaneous dance circles, where the bravest souls would move to a spotlight in the center and show off their moves for the onlookers.
Danni lingered to watch one of these impromptu performers, a good-looking Kitchlander in his late twenties or early thirties. His short brown hair whipped out in all directions as he fell back onto his hands and spun his legs in a wide circle, then twisted, rolled, and popped back up to his feet with amazing speed. Danni couldn’t even find words for what he did next, but it seemed to be inspired in equal measures by martial arts, acrobatics, and a bird caught in a tornado. The dancer leapt, spun, dropped to the floor and came back up again, and through it all he kept perfect time with the frenetic beat of the music. Danni stood transfixed at the sight of it, and she wasn’t the only one. Dimly, she was aware of the crowd pressing in around her, all of them watching with rapt attention as the dancer translated sound and rhythm into motion before their eyes.
The song ended, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. The man stood and raised his hands over his head, grinning almost sheepishly at the praise. His head drifted to one side and ran up against his armpit, and he recoiled with a pantomimed look of revulsion, waving a hand over his nose. His audience just laughed and cheered even louder. Waving his thanks to them all, he ducked out of the circle and disappeared into the darkness of the club.
“That was bloody fabulous!” Eva said, shouting to be heard over the cheers that were still rising up all around them. “Who is he?”
Danni shook her head. “No idea!” she said. “I’ve never seen him before.”
Eva nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the bar. “Let’s get something to drink!”
“Right behind you!”
Picking out an open space at the bar, they swiped their drink cards through one of the readers and placed their orders with the bartender. Normally Daniel preferred beer when he went out with friends, but tonight Danni ordered a raspberry martini with a twist of lemon. It was a cheerful and unabashedly feminine sort of drink, and as such it fit the mood she was going for tonight. If I’m going to do this, she thought, I’m going to do it right. Besides, the martini just sounded good for a change.
The bartender passed them their drinks, and the two women raised them in a toast. “To the girls’ night out,” Eva said, and Danni smiled as they clinked their glasses together.
“What did you get?” she asked, before taking a sip of her drink. She raised her eyebrows and nodded in satisfaction. Not bad at all.
“I’m afraid I’m being rather predictable tonight,” Eva said with a wry grin. “It’s a Hot Swap.”
“Of course,” Danni said, rolling her eyes. The drink’s name came from the slang term for an androgyne who, like Eva, changed genders at the drop of a hat.
The two women chatted idly for a while, enjoying the drinks and each other’s company. They discovered a common interest in university skyball and spent some time debating the relative prospects of their favorite teams. Several men came by with offers to dance, but Eva fended them off politely and firmly. Danni wasn’t relaxed enough yet to dance with a stranger, and Eva seemed to sense that without being told.
After her second drink Danni had loosened up enough that she was ready to move, and she and Eva went out to the dance floor together. The music had transitioned from chagak to a slower, sultrier style, one that was better suited to couples than spectators. Eva put her arms around Danni’s shoulders, while Danni let hers slip around Eva’s waist. They began to move in time with the music and with each other’s bodies. Eva leaned in close, putting her mouth to Danni’s ear.
“Lesson number one about being a woman: Your body moves differently. Your proportions are different, your balance is different, and your clothes are different. As a man, you’ve learned how to project your personal energy in a masculine way. Everything is about strength, directness, blunt force. If you want something, you go straight for it. A sexy man is one who knows what he wants and goes after it with confidence. You with me so far?”
Danni nodded.
“For a woman it’s different,” Eva said. “Sexiness is still about confidence, but it’s focused inward instead of outward. A sexy woman knows that she’s desirable, and she invites attention toward her instead of just seeing what she wants and grabbing it.”
Danni smirked. “I don’t know. As a guy, I don’t think I would have minded if a beautiful woman threw herself at me.”
Eva shook her head. “That’s what you tell yourself, but deep down it isn’t true. A woman who’s too aggressive early on will come off as either a slut or just bloody terrifying. Being assertive in the bedroom is a turn-on, but you’re not that far along yet.” She drew back from Danni and turned in a slow circle, undulating her body in several intriguing ways. “Your body language needs to be smooth and flowing, liquid, like a man could just step into it” – at this she put a hand on Danni’s shoulder and moved sinuously around her, until she had pressed up against Danni on the opposite side – “and let it wash over him,” she finished.
Danni blushed furiously at the feeling of Eva pressing against her, her lips only inches away. “Got it,” she said. She put her arms around Eva and shifted her into a less distracting position.
“No, see, that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Eva said, laughing. “Do you see what you did there? You just moved me where you wanted me. All directness, all … linear. What would a woman do if she was uncomfortable with the way you were touching her?”
“Probably slap me.”
Eva laughed again and shook her head. “Let me amend that. What would she do if she wasn’t ready for you touch her like that, just yet?” She moved back to where she had been before, with her breasts pressed up against Danni’s right side and her arm draped over the opposite shoulder. “Show me what she would do.”
Danni thought about it for a moment. Then she brought her right hand up and ran it along the length of Eva’s outstretched arm, gradually guiding it upward until her hand left Danni’s shoulder. Danni clasped hands with her, then slowly brought their linked hands back down between them, turning her body and taking a half-step back as she did so. At the end of the maneuver they were facing each other with their hands clasped between them. All of her movements had been soft, cajoling, guiding her partner to the desired level of separation without pushing her around or breaking away from contact.
“Very good,” Eva said, unweaving her fingers from Danni’s and running her hand slowly up Danni’s arm until it was resting on her shoulder. At the same time her other hand found Danni’s hip and slid around to wrap behind her. “Remember: soft and flowing, always. Try to pit your will directly against a man’s and he’ll take it personally and fight you. Invite him gently to come where you’re going and he’ll follow you anywhere. Your power is a fishing lure, not a club.”
Danni nodded. The idea of redirecting momentum instead of opposing strength with strength was one that she understood from her studies of the martial arts. Eva had just extended the idea from the literal into the metaphorical.
“Okay, I get it now,” she said.
“I see that. Now, take that and apply it to the whole way you move your body. Direct and angular movements will make you look cold and stand-offish. Indirect and circular movements are inviting. Watch me.” She took a half-dozen steps away from Danni and turned around. Squaring her shoulders and holding her chin up, she marched toward Danni, swinging her arms in time with the steady drum of her footsteps. She stared directly at Danni as she approached. She stopped bare centimeters from Danni, who unconsciously took a step backwards.
“How did that look?”
Danni smirked. “Like you were coming to kill me.”
“Exactly. Now, watch this.” Again she withdrew six paces from Danni. This time, though, she turned her head and cast a veiled look over her shoulder, then pivoted the rest of her body in a slow, sinuous movement. She stalked toward Danni with measured, deliberate steps, sashaying her hips and putting each footstep in front of the other. She kept her chin slightly lowered and gazed up at Danni with half-lidded eyes. A smile played around the corners of her mouth, as if she were mildly amused. Her lips parted slightly as she came closer, and her chest rose in a slow, deliberate breath. She stopped at arms’ length and looked up at Danni, and the smile broadened.
“Hello, there,” she purred. Her eyes promised a memorable evening for the one who was gutsy enough to pursue it. She extended a hand, palm downward.
Danni took a step towards her and took the offered hand, drawing her closer. The response was instinctive, just as her retreat had been a minute before. Eva leaned in close and planted a kiss on Danni’s cheek, then drew back and looked at her. “You see the difference?”
“I do,” Danni said. “The tricky part will be remembering to do it.”
“Piffle,” Eva said, waving her hand dismissively. “This stuff has been programmed into us by thousands of years of evolution. Your body knows how to move. Your brain is a woman’s brain. The tricky part is getting your male memories, and your male ego, to take a back seat to your instincts. You just have to stop fighting against your nature, is all.”
Danni chuckled and shook her head. “That sounds great, but my male memories and my male ego are pretty much everything I think of as me. Right now it’s like I’m just acting, playing a part. I can fake it for a while, but this isn’t me.”
“Except that it is you,” Eva insisted. “It’s just a different you from the one you’re used to. It’s your same soul, but it’s behind a different filter. You’ll see what I mean. Just let Danni be herself, instead of trying to make her be Daniel.”
Danni shrugged. “I’m not sure how, but I’ll try.”
“Good.” Another song was starting, and Eva took a step back and put her hands on her hips. “Time for your first test. Dance sexy for me.”
Danni blinked. “What?”
“Seduce me,” Eva said, grinning wickedly. “Dance like a woman would dance for her lover. Make me want you.”
Danni blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She laughed nervously. “I don’t know if I can,” she said.
“You can,” Eva said encouragingly. “Stop thinking about it so hard and just do it!”
Danni closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. She let the music soak into her, swaying gently with the beat until she was sure she had the rhythm of it. It was a trance number, with a fairly fast tempo and a heavy bass line that contrasted with a gentle, persuasive melody line and haunting accents from a synth pad. Danni moved her body at half-tempo, taking small steps left and right. She rocked her hips from side to side and rolled her shoulders in time with the steps, undulating her whole body. She turned in a slow circle, showing herself to Eva from every angle. The lights overhead painted her with flashes of green, purple and red, playing across her curves and making them stand out sharply against the surrounding darkness.
She moved her hands in slow, deliberate gestures, creating ripples that traveled up her arms and across her shoulders in one fluid motion. Her right hand snaked up and passed through her hair while the other ran slowly down her thigh, straying near the cleft between her legs without ever quite reaching it. The right hand slid down the side of her neck and down to her chest, where she briefly cupped one breast while she arched her back and closed her eyes. The hand continued its journey down, running over her abs and then down over her right thigh.
She continued in this vein, improvising as she went along. She looked up at Eva through half-lidded eyes and gave her an inviting smile. Eva watched, transfixed, her body swaying back and forth in time with Danni’s movements. Danni sashayed closer to her, staying with the flow of the music. She reached out a hand and Eva took it, gently drawing her in closer. Danni spun inward on Eva’s arm, coming nose to nose with her as she pressed up against Eva’s body. Eva’s lips parted in surprise, and Danni bent in close as if for a kiss. Just before their lips would have touched, Danni drew back, putting a gentle finger to Eva’s mouth instead. She smiled impishly at Eva and ran her fingertip over the woman’s chin, down the line of her neck and into the cleft between her breasts. She hooked the fingertip under the neck of Eva’s dress and gave it a little tug, enough to tease her without actually pulling anything loose.
Eva was touching her now, as well, running her hands down the sides of Danni’s torso and down to her waist. Danni turned in her arms and pressed back against her. Eva’s grip tightened around her waist, and she ground her hips against Danni’s ass while her breath came hot and insistent against Danni’s ear. One possessive ran down between Danni’s legs and covered her mound, while the other cupped one of her breasts. Danni bucked against her and moaned as a jolt of pleasure shot through her.
They moved together in time with the music, Danni submitting completely to Eva’s commanding touch. As the song reached a crescendo Eva spun Danni around and planted her lips firmly against Danni’s. Danni opened herself to the kiss, wrapping one leg around Eva’s body as Eva held her tightly against her, one hand behind her head and the other around her waist.
Danni was in rapture. Their mouths opened to one another and their tongues danced, and with the intimacy of that contact Eva’s mind unfolded itself in front of her. She felt Eva’s ardent lust like a storm beneath her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to let the clouds open up and drown her.
She sent her own emotions into the link, pouring into Eva the loneliness of the last year and a hunger that had gone unsated for far too long. Just to be touched like this, to be wanted by another in this way – it was like rain in the desert, and Danni could feel desire bursting into sudden, desperate bloom.
Eva gasped against her and tightened her grip, surprise spilling over the rest of her emotions. Oh gods, she thought, her words echoing through the link as clearly as if she had spoken them. What is this? Is this you?
Danni put her arms around Eva’s neck and kissed her again, hard. Yes! she sent back urgently. Yes, it’s me, Eva. I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me. Can you feel me inside you, Eva?
Eva moaned against her, but Danni was vaguely aware of a new thread of uncertainty in her thoughts. But what … I thought you couldn’t…
I’m tired of denying myself. It’s like you said, Eva: it’s time for me to let go and … stop fighting against my nature. She wrapped a hand between Eva’s legs from behind, sending her fingers questing upward. Eva writhed and shuddered under her touch.
“Danni, listen to me!” she said, her voice coming out urgent and shaky. “The thing about androgynes is – oh, god, that feels so good…”
“Yes…?” Danni purred, moving her fingers higher.
“The th-thing is,” Eva stammered, “your s-s-sex drive is enh-h-hanced in your d-dominant form. You h-have to – oh! – to be careful, or you’ll s-start beh-ahhh! Behaving irrationally!”
“Sounds like fun,” Danni teased. Gods, Eva was so beautiful. She couldn’t wait to get her somewhere that she could explore every centimeter of that spell-sculpted body.
A surge of fear shot through Eva, but it was still mingled with lust and excitement. It just made Danni want her more. She planted soft kisses on Eva’s neck. There, there, she sent. I won’t hurt you. It will be amazing, you’ll see.
“I’m not a teep,” Eva whispered. Danni wouldn’t have even heard her if the words hadn’t been reflected in her thoughts.
Nobody’s perfect.
Danni felt Eva take a deep breath and focus her will, working past the haze of pleasure to form one forceful, coherent thought. Rebecca!
Danni paused. A nagging twinge of uncertainty crept up in the back of her mind. What?
“Think of Rebecca!” Eva hissed in her ear. She sounded desperate, like she was trying to convince herself as well as Danni. “If – if we do this, you’ll be stuck in my head forever! You’ll never get a chance to be with Rebecca again. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”
Rebecca’s image floated up before Danni’s eyes. ’Becca…
With difficulty, she withdrew her hand from underneath Eva’s dress. They pulled back from their embrace and looked at each other, gripping each other’s arms for support. Both of them were flushed and panting. Eva looked a little dazed, which matched how Danni felt.
“I … I guess I passed the test,” Danni said, hesitantly.
Eva let out a breathless laugh. “Bloody hells, yes.”
Danni shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “Thanks for snapping me out of it. If we’d … done what we were about to do…”
Eva nodded. The gesture was exaggerated, and Danni realized that they were both at least a little drunk. “Sorry,” she said. “I should have warned you. L-let’s go sit down.”
They walked off the dance floor and found a small, half moon-shaped booth in the back of the club, one of a dozen that ran along that part of the wall. The shadows were thicker here, and most of the other people using the booths were either making out or dosing up on drugs or liquor. Danni and Eva sat as far apart as the space permitted, facing each other over the small round table.
Danni cleared her throat before speaking. “So. I guess it’s true what they say about androgynes.”
“Partly,” Eva admitted. “Keep in mind, the Curse was designed to turn Metamor’s warriors into willing pleasure slaves. Our wizards managed to counter it, but not completely. The Curse responds to your desires: the more feminine you make yourself, the harder it is to resist your instincts.”
”You managed to resist,” Danni said.
“I’ve been doing this a lot longer. I didn’t realize how far I was pushing you, and the alcohol didn’t help either. I’m sorry.”
Danni waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.” She smiled impishly. “Besides, it was fun. You’re a good kisser.”
Eva flushed. “And you’re amazingly good with your hands,” she said. “I need a cab, and I don’t even smoke.”
“I think they sell the smokeless ones at the bar, you know.”
Eva snorted. “Feck, what’s the point?”
Danni chuckled and looked out over the room. The place was packed now, and the dance floor was filled with a sea of bodies. A lot of them were making out at least as blatantly as Danni and Eva had been, which made her feel a little bit better. It had been fun, but she wouldn’t have wanted to end up as the club’s floor show on her first night as a woman.
Her eyes drifted over to the bar, where she spotted a man sitting in the shadows by himself. That struck her as odd; Parallax wasn’t the sort of place that you went if you wanted a quiet drink alone. He looked up from his glass, almost as if he had felt her eyes on him. She recognized him, and then she was even more surprised.
“I’m going to get us some water,” she said, sliding out of her seat. “You want anything else?”
Eva shook her head. “Water sounds lovely, thank you.”
“All right. Be back in a few.”
Danni went over to the bar and slid into the seat next to the man, which was strangely empty in spite of the crowd. She caught the bartender’s attention and ordered two bottles of water, then turned her attention to the man. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
The chagak dancer looked surprised that she had spoken to him. “What?”
She almost laughed. There I go again, taking the direct approach, she thought. Eva, you’ve got your work cut out for you.
“I asked if you would like a drink,” she said.
He peered at her strangely for a moment, then shook his head, chuckling. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” She cracked the cap on one of the water bottles and took a swig. “That was some incredible dancing you did earlier. I can’t believe I’m the first person to offer to buy you a drink.” She smirked. “Hells, I can’t believe I’m the only one talking to you.”
He shrugged uneasily. “Sometimes the attention gets to me after a while. I’ve learned how to sort of … fade into the background when I get tired of it.”
Danni looked at him closely. “You a teep?”
He snorted. “Yeah, barely. They rated me as a Level One. Some days I can barely hear myself think.”
Danni groaned at the pun, and he sketched a half-bow, taking it as a compliment. “I’m Jared Tamlin,” he said, extending a hand.
Danni took the hand and bowed over it, smiling. “Danni Sharabi,” she said.
She didn’t even have to think twice about the name.
“Now that … was one hell of an evening.”
Danni raised her glass in agreement, settling back on the couch with a contented sigh. They had stayed at the Parallax until just after one in the morning, then hired a taxi for the ride home. Eva would take the subway downtown tomorrow morning to pick up her skimmer, when the sun was up and they were both a good deal more sober than they were at the moment. Danni had invited her in for a nightcap, not that either of them needed it.
“So.” Eva tipped her head on its side and looked over at Danni with mischief in her eyes. “Who’s that boy I saw you dancing with?”
Danni blushed and looked away, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. “His name is Jared,” she said. “He seemed like a nice guy, and he was all by himself.”
“Mm-hmm. Wasn’t he the same one tearing up the dance floor earlier?” Danni nodded. “Doesn’t sound like much of a wallflower to me.”
“You’d be surprised,” Danni said. “Anyway, he’s a low-powered teep, like me, so we had something in common.”
Eva rolled over on the couch until she was lying on her stomach with her feet in the air. She managed it without spilling her drink, which was a pretty good trick given her current state. “Did you tell him you’re a teegee?”
“Not yet,” Danni admitted. “I’m already nervous enough about the idea of being a girl and dating guys. I didn’t need anything else to make it more awkward.”
“But you like him?”
Danni made a noncommittal sound and gestured vaguely with her free hand. “Hells, I don’t know. I felt something, but for all I know it was just … overflow, from our little make-out session on the dance floor.” She chuckled ruefully. “Your potion might have made me a woman, but it sure didn’t make me a straight woman.”
“Most androgynes still keep their attraction to whatever sex they liked before,” Eva said. “The other just gets added over top of that. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Who’s worried?” Danni asked. “I’d be more scared if I’d suddenly stopped liking women!”
They both laughed at that, and the alcohol probably made it seem funnier than it actually was. Eva put down her drink and crawled down the length of the couch to Danni. She turned over and put her head in Danni’s lap. Danni gave her a wry look. “Comfy?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Eva said, closing her eyes. “So. You’re gonna give it a try?”
Danni took a deep breath and set down her own glass, which was empty anyway. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not going to know whether I can go through with this unless I actually give it a chance. So, yes. If he calls, I’ll give it a try.” She snorted. “Assuming he doesn’t run away when I tell him I’m teegee.”
“Important point,” Eva agreed, turning to rest her cheek against Danni’s abs.
“And, of course, assuming that he calls before it wears off.”
“Mmm.” Eva seemed to be drifting off to sleep. Danni briefly considered inviting her to share her bed tonight, then wrote that off as a very bad idea.
“Eva?”
“Mm?”
“How long do I have before I change back, anyway? I don’t want to be out on a date and suddenly change back while I’m still in a dress.” Or panties, she added silently.
Eva opened her eyes halfway and shrugged. “I dunno. Artax said it depends on how close you are to the Citadel, how often you change back an’ forth … a bunch of other things.” She closed her eyes again and nuzzled up against Danni’s navel. “You’ve got somewhere between two and three weeks.”
Danni leapt out of her seat and spun around to face her. Eva landed face-first on the couch cushions.
“Ow,” she said.
“Two or three weeks?!”
“Ow,” Eva said again.
“Never mind ‘ow!’ I’m going to be stuck like this for two weeks?”
Eva turned over and gave her a cross expression. “Well, what did you think?” she asked. “That you were going to learn all there was to know about being a woman in a bloody weekend? I find that vaguely insulting.”
“Eva, I have a job! What am I supposed to tell my boss? My co-workers? Hells, what am I supposed to tell Nate and Kevin?”
“The truth?” Eva suggested.
Danni hung her head and sighed in exasperation.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” she said reasonably. “This will give you a chance to really get into being a woman, to see how it works on a daily basis. And you can change back if you really need to, you know. Where do you think Evan comes from?”
Danni blushed. She’d gotten so caught up in how different it all felt that she’d forgotten that she could switch back whenever she wanted. “How long can I change back for?” she asked.
“Twelve hours,” Eva said. “You can push it longer than that, but you won’t like the side effects.” She paused, frowning slightly. “Actually, you will like the side effects rather a lot, but you’ll hate them afterwards. That whole elevated libido thing … bit of a double-edged sword.”
She’d already noticed that much. “Twelve hours. Got it,” she said. She was already thinking about how she would budget her time; she could conceivably hide it from her co-workers or her flat-mates, but not both.
“Brilliant,” Eva said, yawning. “Can I just crash here, then? I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning, I promise.”
Danni looked up at the clock and sighed. “No, come on. You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch.”
She helped Eva get up, and they stumbled toward Danni’s room. “You’re a real gentleman, Daniel Sharabi.”
“I know,” Danni said, rolling her eyes. “I’m trying to quit.”
Chapter Ten
Saturday, June 1.
I must confess, Brian Sommers, that I am somewhat … disappointed.
"Yeah," said Sasha, under her breath. "There seems to be a lot of that going around these days."
The Elder ignored her, fixing calm and implacable grey eyes toward her cell husband. He sat in a chair with his back to the kitchen table, while the Elder stood over him with a perfect stillness that was deeply unnerving. The older telepath might as well have been made of stone. Sasha sat on the couch with Fiona and Rebecca on either side of her, watching from a distance with their hands interlinked. They did not form a complete gestalt, but Fiona's self-control filtered down through the bond created by their physical contact. Sasha took what she needed and passed the rest on to Rebecca, whose emotions always ran close to the surface.
You served with distinction for five years in the Imperial Military Intelligence Directorate, the Elder said. You fought in numerous engagements and were honorably discharged with the rank of Captain. Your service with the mundanes was, by all accounts, exemplary. You will forgive me, then, if I am somewhat perplexed that you were unable to complete a similar mission when the survival of your own people is at stake.
Brian stared fixedly at a spot on the wall, refusing either to bow his head or challenge the Elder's gaze. "I believe there are two factors that need to be taken into account, Elder."
Yes?
"Yes. First, the mission was hastily planned and executed without the proper support for an operation of this nature."
You believe, then, that you are better qualified to judge what constitutes proper support than the combined wisdom of the Hive itself?
Brian chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then set his jaw. "Yes, Elder. My experience in covert operations is current and in-depth. The Hive has more combined years of field experience, but it seems to be … diluted … by the emotional input of the inexperienced majority."
"I see. And the second reason?
"We were working under a severe deficit in operational intelligence," Brian said. "The enemy seemed to have full knowledge of our capabilities. The runner who took the package from Fiona knew about her egoist powers, despite the fact that she hadn't displayed them in any great way. She had prepared spell traps that were specifically designed to negate the kinds of tactical advantages that Fiona possesses. Meanwhile, we knew nothing about the enemy's capabilities. We were expecting undead; Del and Trace were equipped with enchanted weapons and bullets containing essence of garlic. Instead we ended up with two dead mundies and a rogue telekinetic."
If Del Matthews and Trace Umbara had believed that they were facing undead, they would have been a great deal more thorough in killing the two mundane operatives, the Elder said. I realize you are attempting to justify your friends' actions, but the evidence does not support your theory. We must conclude that Matthews and Umbara knew that they were firing on armed mundanes.
"Because you instructed us to use deadly force!" Brian snapped. "Hells, you should be thanking Del and Trace for taking out some of the mercenary trash in this City! We have positive IDs on both of them now. Those men were killers, and you know it!"
The Elder held up a hand. You misunderstand me. We do not condemn their actions. They were the actions of soldiers in the midst of a war, and as such we do not ascribe moral weight to them. Nobility in war is prized chiefly because it is so often impractical, and then it is only valued if victory comes in spite of its handicaps. We do not have the luxury of being anything but pragmatic.
Brian crossed his arms. "Then why are we being hung out to dry? We're some of the best operatives you have, but we've been cut off from the Hive for a week now when we should have been out there trying to recover that package." He looked up at the Elder now, and his usually-soft brown eyes flashed with anger. "And don't even get me started on what you're doing to Josephine! How is it pragmatic to treat a soldier's widow like a child who needs to be punished? For Eli's sake, at least let us take up a collection for her and the baby!"
Josephine Matthews is under discipline for promoting disloyal and divisive philosophies during a time of imminent danger, the Elder said. Our wish is for her and her child to be safe and healthy and protected, but we cannot expend the resources of the Hive on one who is trying to undermine our entire society. It is our hope that, by allowing her to see the consequences of her choices, we will help her to return to the fold more quickly. There can be no reconciliation without repentance.
"Elder, please—"
If I were you, I would be more concerned about the status of my own house, the Elder said. The sudden sternness in that telepathic voice silenced all argument. You say that you are among our best operatives, but that is now a matter of debate within the Hive. To be sure, all of you were recommended for this mission by your former combat trainer. Kano Victor hin'Kavos was quite confident in your prowess and adaptability. Your failure to live up to those expectations was a cause of great embarrassment for him, negated only by the fact that he was able to track down the rogue telekinetic so quickly after the disaster.
Brian clenched his fists, visibly struggling to keep his voice even. "Elder, you'll forgive me if I am … doubtful that a psi-op as experienced as Kano Victor would have recommended throwing us into this mission without proper support and intelligence."
The timeline was fixed at the outset, the Elder said. We barely found out about the incoming package in time to mount an operation at all. Kano Victor was consulted on the best operatives to use for the mission, in light of its limitations.
"So you knew this was a bad run before it even started."
We knew it was a difficult run, but Kano Victor was optimistic about your chances. Some are now questioning whether his assessment of you was … premature.
The Elder walked back toward the door of the apartment. No decision will be made immediately, but these events have brought your qualifications as a cell husband under review. The Hive will be watching you closely over the next several months, Brian Sommers. At the end of that time, we shall determine whether your cell's contributions to the well-being of the Collective are commensurate with the amount of responsibility that has been entrusted to you. Good day.
The grey-clad telepath opened the door and left without looking back. In the silence that followed Brian turned to face his cell-mates. Sasha could see pain and bitterness in his eyes and in his heart, held back by stubborn determination. Beside her, Fiona's face was as cold and hard as stone, but her eyes flashed with viridian fire. On her other side, Rebecca clutched her hand between two sweaty palms, her whole body trembling. Sasha freed her other hand from Fiona's and clutched the crucifix around her neck. In the middle of her scared and conflicted thoughts, the prayer that came out of her consisted of only one word: Please…
Brian met each of their eyes in turn.
"We have to find out what was in that package," he said.
Danni awoke the next morning with the sort of throbbing headache that could only come from hangovers or closed-head injuries. She wasn’t entirely sure which was to blame until she rolled over onto her new breasts, which verified that her hazy memories of the night before weren’t some kind of trauma-induced hallucination. Further evidence came in the form of her sultry red dress, which was hanging over the top of a nearby chair. With a soft groan she dragged herself off the couch and stumbled toward the bathroom, looking for something – anything – that would stop the pain in her head.
The bathroom door was locked when she got there. She jiggled the handle a few times, then muttered a curse under her breath.
“Be out in a minute!” someone called. The toilet flushed, and a moment later she heard the sound of water running in the sink.
She sank back against the wall with a whimper and wrapped her arms around herself, wincing at the persistent drumbeat under her temples. She had a brief mental image of chagak dancers inside her head, but the pain was too great for it to keep her amused for very long.
The door opened and Kevin came out. “Sorry about that, I don’t mean to—" He broke off abruptly, his eyes widening as he noticed Danni. “Oh. Um, sorry,” he said awkwardly. His eyes darted to Danni’s bedroom door, which was open, then back to her. “I … didn’t realize Daniel had company over.”
“I … um … I,” Danni fumbled. She wasn’t even sure how she intended to finish the sentence; coherent speech failed her, and for good reason. Kevin was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and his well-toned abs and hairless chest drew her eyes like a magnet. As Daniel she had seen Kevin like this countless times, first in the locker room and then in their apartment, but his sleek masculine beauty had never affected her like this before. She felt a twinge of disappointment at the fact that Kevin was gay, and she found that more disorienting than anything else she had yet experienced as a woman.
Kevin put a finger to his lips and moved over to Danni’s bedroom door, reaching for the handle. His eyes fell on the empty bed and his expression grew confused. He turned back to Danni, narrowing his eyes in thought. They widened a moment later as realization struck him.
“Daniel?” he asked, looking deeply surprised.
She winced and put a hand to her head. “Not so loud,” she muttered. The chagak dancers inside her skull recruited a few new members for their drum circle.
“Sorry,” Kevin said, lowering his voice to a less agonizing level. He looked back into the room, then down the hall to the living room. Danni could imagine him taking in the evidence in a matter of seconds: the dress, the rumpled sheets on the couch, the discarded shoes and stockings on the floor, the purse sitting on the coffee table. When he turned back to her, his gentle brown eyes showed equal measures of sympathy and amusement. “Too much fun last night?” he asked.
Danni groaned and rubbed her temples. “I need a painkiller and about two liters of water,” she said. “Or, barring that, a shotgun.”
“I’ll mix up a dose of hangover potion,” Kevin said. “Did you, um … want to put something on while you wait?”
Danni looked down and flushed. She was still wearing the underwear Eva had brought her, and nothing else. “Good idea,” she said, flustered. “Excuse me.”
She went into the bedroom, shut the door behind her and walked over to the mirror. She took off the underwear and focused on changing back to her male body.
Nothing happened.
“Oh, please, no,” she muttered. She tried to think masculine thoughts. She tried imagining her male body, with its muscular chest and powerful arms and legs. The image in her head morphed into a picture of Kevin, and she found herself growing aroused.
“Dammit!” she shouted, then wished she hadn’t. As she held her head and waiting for the ringing in her ears to subside, she thought back over everything Eva had taught her last night. They had discussed switching back, but she couldn’t recall if the androgyne had said anything about how to do it. If we’d been sober last night, we probably would have thought of that.
Sighing, she put the underwear back on, then added a t-shirt and boxers for modesty’s sake. She would have to ask Eva how this hot-swapping business worked at the earliest possible opportunity.
The androgyne was long gone from the apartment; the only sign that she had been here was bed itself, which had been made up with an unusual degree of care. Kevin waited for Danni in the kitchen with a mug of steaming brown liquid. An empty packet of over-the-counter potion mix sat on the island countertop. She took the mug gratefully and pulled a stool up to the island, which doubled as a breakfast table. She took a sip of the potion, then another. It tasted like apples and rose hips, with an undertone of spearmint. By the time she took her third sip, the throbbing in her head had diminished enough that she could stand to hear the sound of her own voice again.
“Thanks, Kev. I owe you one.”
“Any time,” he said, leaning back against the counter by the sink. He had pulled on a loose-fitting t-shirt while he was waiting, for which Danni was grateful. With no telepathy, Kevin was as off-limits to her as Eva was, and adjusting to her new body was difficult enough without the distraction of his godlike physique. ”Godlike physique?” Prophet help me, I really am far gone.
“So,” Kevin said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Was this a practical joke, or did you lose a bet?”
Danni grimaced. “Neither,” she said, blushing. “It’s … more of an experiment, actually.”
Kevin pulled up a stool and sat across from her, resting his chin on his hands and his elbows on the counter. “An experiment?”
Danni nodded. “It’s sort of a trial-size version of the androgyne Curse.”
This time both of Kevin’s eyebrows went up. “Aren’t you a little old to be thinking about taking the Curse? The adjustment’s a lot harder at our age than it is before puberty.”
“Believe me, I know,” Danni said, rolling her eyes. “But I … I think this may be my only chance of really finding a home in the Collective.”
Kevin frowned. “And that’s acceptable to you?” he asked. “Daniel, believe me, I understand where you’re coming from. Even if my powers were stronger, I’d always be an outsider in the Collective because of my orientation. Now, I could ask the psi-therapists to rechannel my personality, to change my sexuality so it will be more in tune with what that Hive considers ‘appropriate.’ But that isn’t me. I am who I am, and I’m not going to change for them. What you’re talking about is even more drastic.”
Danni winced and took another sip of the potion. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you’re losing perspective,” Kevin said. “I told you it would be hard work to build a life for yourself outside the Collective, but in some ways that would be a lot easier than what you’re suggesting. Why are you giving up on that? I’m sure you could find a nice teep out there who wants a monogamous relationship. Heck, look at Del and Josephine.”
“Please don’t bring them up,” Danni whispered.
Kevin’s eyes mirrored her pain. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to be crass. He was my friend, too, you know.”
Danni nodded but said nothing.
“Still, it proves my point,” Kevin said. “There are good women out there who don’t want what the Hive is offering.”
“But that’s the thing,” Danni said. “I don’t want to give up on what the Hive is offering! Look at what’s happing to Jo and her daughter now that Del is gone. They were in trouble, and the Hive gave them nothing because they weren’t an active part of the Collective – even though Del died for them!” She looked down at the mug in her hands. “I don’t ever want that to happen to the people I love. I want the Collective to protect them, and take care of them, and make sure that they never have to worry about food or medicine or a place to live. Maybe someday the Collective will be generous enough and idealistic enough that they’ll help anyone who needs it, but we’re not there yet.” She looked up at him soberly. “And we’re never going to get there if everyone who disagrees with the way things are done just leaves.”
Kevin looked at her for a long moment. “This is still about Rebecca, isn’t it? About being with her?”
Danni shrugged. “She’s the only person I’ve ever loved,” she said. “We’ve known each other our whole lives, and she’s always been the one I loved. This last year, living without her…” She shook her head. “You don’t know how hard it’s been. I can’t stand the thought of going the rest of my life without having her there with me. Even if I’m her … her co-wife, instead of her husband. At least I could be with her.”
“And being with her is that important to you?” Kevin asked. "Important enough that you'd become a woman, be the mother of Brian's children, just so you can be near her?"
Danni swallowed hard. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I don't know if I could … love a man. I mean, I know my body is attracted to them now, but I don't know if I can deal with it in here,” she said, tapping the side of her head. She looked down at her mug for a moment, then back up. "But if I can, and that's the price for being with Becca … then that's what I want to do."
Kevin looked deep into her eyes, and Danni wondered what he saw in them. Finally, unexpectedly, he smiled, shaking his head. “You are in love with her,” he said.
She nodded.
“Best of luck, then,” Kevin said. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added, off her surprised look, “I still think you’re crazy. But being in love is one of the better reasons for insanity that are out there.” He smirked. “There’s something weirdly noble about it, actually.”
“Thanks,” Danni said, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously,” Kevin insisted. He reached across the table and took her hand. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know. At the very least, I can give you some tips about dating men.”
Danni just laughed and nodded. Her circle of romantic advisors already included a sex-changing shapeshifter; she could use all the help she could get.
How does it look?
Sasha closed her eyes and extended her thoughts, taking in the emotional undercurrents of the restaurant as they entered. She could sense the occasional grumbling patron whose food hadn’t been cooked properly, or a woman complaining about her boyfriend to a shopping companion, but for the most part the people there seemed reasonably content. Sasha guessed that the bright, sunny weather outside was helping everyone’s mood, though she and her cell-mates were still anxious and wary.
I’m not picking up any strong negative emotions, she said. If it’s a trap, they’re really calm about it.
Brian nodded once and pushed his glasses a bit higher on his nose. Becks? Anything?
Rebecca bit her lip and shook her head. No, no trouble … not that I can see, anyway. A pair of reflective sunglasses hid the glow of her eyes as she searched the restaurant’s hidden nooks and corners with her clairvoyance. I … I don’t think there are any guns or wands within esping range, she added. Sorry, I’m new at this.
Sasha took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “You’re doing great,” she whispered. Rebecca smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Sweetheart that she was, Rebecca didn’t know the first thing about psi-ops, but right now they desperately needed her ESP. Not only could she see around corners, but her precog would warn her if something dangerous was about to happen around her. So far she hadn’t complained once, and Sasha gave her credit for being brave under circumstances she had never prepared for.
Brian turned to Fiona. You see our contact? he asked.
Fiona scanned the room impassively as they walked further in, ignoring the sign that said PLEASE WAIT HERE TO BE SEATED. Halfway to the back wall, she turned and gestured for the others to follow her.
The woman was seated in the back corner of the restaurant, in a semicircular booth designed for large groups. She had a glass of cola in front of her but apparently hadn’t ordered her food yet, judging from the menu spread out before her. She nodded at Fiona as they approached, and Fiona returned the gesture. Sasha knew what to expect, but she was still a little surprised when she saw the woman up close; she was barely more than a kid. Then again, Sasha hadn’t been any older when she joined the MID.
Fiona slid into the booth first, putting herself closest to their contact, followed by Sasha and then Brian, who tucked a small briefcase under his seat as he climbed in. Rebecca took the seat nearest the edge, carefully lowering herself into position. The teenaged runner pulled the table closer to herself to make more room for Rebecca’s belly.
“Didn’t know this was going to be a family outing,” the runner said, looking at Fiona.
Fiona shrugged, a careful and deliberate raising and lowering of her shoulders. “I told you that I would bring the rest of my team. Rebecca is a part of it.”
Rebecca smiled nervously. The runner grinned and raised a hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you,” she said. “My name’s Callie.”
“We know who you are, Ms Linder,” Brian assured her. “We pulled your files before we called this meeting. The Lothanasi have some very interesting records on you.”
Sasha felt the ripple of surprise that ran through Callie at Brian’s words, but the runner didn’t let any of it show on her face. “I’ll bet they do,” she said, smiling sweetly. “But I guess there isn’t anything too terrible in there, given that you’re here talking to me.”
Brian spread his hands. “Let’s just say that the idea of genetically-ingrained luck explains a lot about why your mission succeeded and ours failed.”
Callie raised her glass in silent acknowledgement, then took a drink from her soda before answering. “It helps, I don’t deny it,” she said. “What I’m trying to figure out is why a money manager, a shrink, a ‘Net jockey and a painter would need to steal a smuggled package in the first place. You’ve been out of MID service for a while, after all, and there’s no record of any of you working in private security.” She took another drink. “Officially, anyway.”
Rebecca gasped. “How do know all that?” she whispered.
Callie winked. “Your hubby’s not the only one with sources, kiddo.” She turned back to Brian. “So, now that the pissing contest is out of the way, why don’t you tell me why I’m here?”
“We want to hire you,” Brian said. “We know that the package that you smuggled in belongs to the vampire syndicate. We need to find out what was inside it, and whether it poses a threat to the Psi Collective. We’ve brought cash – twenty-mark bills, all circulated and non-sequential.” He tapped his foot against the briefcase under the table.
The runner nodded, as if she’d been expecting this. Sasha just hoped that it was a good use of the money. The Hive had been loath to part with it, but Fiona had explained that it was absolutely essential for their mission to have any chance of success. Even then she might not have been able to persuade them, but she had received some unexpected support when Miriam Bakhtavar spoke out in favor of the plan. Elder Bakhtavar was arguably the most famous and respected egoist in the Collective, and with her backing the Hive quickly approved the needed financial support. Sasha wasn’t sure why the Elder had taken such an interest in the situation, but with the opposition they had encountered from the Hive as a whole she was grateful to have at least one ally in a position of prominence.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you much,” Callie said. “Anybody who hires a runner knows that our loyalties are flexible once the job is done, so the smart ones limit how much they tell us. Until Fiona here opened the courier’s parcel, I didn’t have any idea what was inside it. I still don’t know what was on the data cards or inside that little box.”
“We understand,” Brian assured her. “Why don’t you set the price for the information, based on how much you can tell us?”
Smooth, Sasha thought. By making the runner set the price, Brian was giving her the chance to establish what kind of person she was. If she extorted a lot of money from them and gave them little in return, they would know that they couldn’t trust her with any further work. If she set a fair price for what she gave them, she would leave the door open for the second part of their request.
Callie furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. “Two thousand,” she said at last. “I feel bad for you that your friends were killed, so I’m giving you a discount.”
Brian opened the briefcase under the table and pulled out a centimeter-thick packet of bills, which he then passed around to Callie. The runner flicked through the stack and nodded before sticking it inside her jacket pocket.
“All right, here’s the deal,” she said. “The parcel was addressed to William Westerson. You probably haven’t heard of him; he runs a local security firm called Viscount Security Solutions.”
“I’ve heard of Viscount,” Brian said. “I’ve never worked with them, but they have a good reputation in the business.”
“Yeah, but here’s the thing: Westerson’s also one of the key captains in Malcolm ard’Valos’s organization. I’ve done work for him before on other ops similar to this one. My mentor told me once that he was the intelligence czar for the whole outfit in Metamor City. He studies their enemies, figures out their strengths and weaknesses, and then figures out how to deal with them.”
Sasha was getting a sinking feeling in her stomach. “No wonder the Elders are worried,” she said. “If this Westerson is involved, it sounds like the Collective is next on his hit list.”
“How did you know who was going to try to steal the package?” Brian asked. “Fiona said that you referred to her as ‘Agent Alpha-Niner.’ Obviously you were expecting her, specifically, so who tipped you off?”
Callie shrugged. “We were briefed on a bunch of potential agents who might try to disrupt the mission. Fiona was near the top of the list, but it wasn’t all spookies. I don’t know who provided the intel.”
“What about the rogue telekinetic who was working with you?” Fiona asked, her eyes cold and hard. “Collective agents reported that Felipe Deveraux helped you to carry out your mission. Did he not provide you with inside information?”
Callie’s lips settled into a thin line. “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t sell out other runners. You can buy my services, you can buy information about my former employers, you can even buy my silence if your money is good enough, but I do not give out the identities of the people I work with. Especially not to people who are probably out for revenge.”
Sasha didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the anger behind the other woman’s words. She shared a glance with the others, and they all decided that it would be a bad idea to tell her that Deveraux had already been killed for his betrayal. “If that’s the way you feel about us,” she asked, “then why are you helping us?”
Callie snorted. “A runner can’t afford to hold grudges. Especially not other people’s. The fact that you’re here talking instead of trying to kill me tells me that you can be reasonable. As long as you respect the way I operate, that’s good enough for me.”
Brian nodded once. “All right, so you delivered the package to Westerson. What can you tell us about the facility where it’s being kept?”
“There’s a storage vault at Viscount’s headquarters,” the runner said. “It’s on the fourth sky-level, about three klicks north of the Citadel. The place is a fortress; they use the office as a demonstrator for their top-of-the-line security systems. The office walls are laced with lead and cold iron; even some mithril inlay, at key points. Magically, the whole place is a black box when it’s locked down. I’m guessing psi won’t go through those walls, either.”
“Probably not,” Sasha admitted, looking at Brian. “I won’t be able to coordinate you once you’re inside.”
“We’ll manage,” Brian said. “What about the vault itself?”
“Three layers of protection,” Callie said. “Magic wards, electronic card reader, and a physical combination lock.”
Brian and Fiona exchanged a glance. “The electronic security doesn’t concern me,” Brian said, “and Fiona can take care of the physical locks. But Trace Umbara was our expert on arcane countermeasures, and we don’t have time to find a replacement.” He sent an unspoken question to Fiona. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, but she nodded, grudgingly. “Fiona tells me that you have some impressive talents in that area yourself. Do you think you could take down Viscount’s wards?”
Callie’s body language became wary. “You want me to go in with you?”
“Absolutely. We can pay you well for the help, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Everybody on the Fringe says that Viscount can’t be cracked. It’s just too hard to get inside without leaving a trail, and if you do set off an alarm, you’re not getting out again.” A slow smile spread across her face. “Then again, people have said that about other places I’ve been, and nothing helps your rep like doing the impossible.” She nodded. “I’ll give you everything I know about the place. If you can figure out a way to get us inside, and you can afford my fee, I’m game.”
“And how much is your fee?” Fiona asked.
Callie cocked her head to one side and looked up at the ceiling. “Job like this, you’re talking about some serious hazard pay. A hundred kay up front, plus another hundred if we have to fight any of Westerson’s goon squad.”
Brian frowned. “I’ll get you the two hundred whether there’s a firefight or not, but I can only give you fifty up front. If we get what we came for, you get the other hundred fifty as soon as we’re safe, wired to an account of your choice. If all we manage is getting out alive, you’ll still get another fifty for your trouble.” He smiled grimly. “Call it an incentive to stick it out if things turn ugly.”
Callie looked each of them in the eye for a few seconds, then nodded. “All right, that’s fair.”
“Good,” Brian said, folding his hands in front of him. “One other thing: since we’re actually working this job with you, I want the same protection you extend to your fellow runners. Anyone asks, you don’t tell them anything about who hired you or who you worked with.”
Callie made a sound of disagreement. “It’s not that easy, Sommers. You may be working this op, but that doesn’t make you a runner. If you take anything in that vault and the vamps trace it back to me, the only way I’ll be able save my own skin is if I give them the name of my employer. If you want my silence, you’ve got to give me your word that this is a look-see operation only. Copy whatever you want, but you don’t steal anything tangible, and you don’t smash anything.”
Sasha could tell that her cell-mates didn’t like that any more than she did. Brian’s eyes narrowed, and Rebecca opened her mouth to protest until Brian put a hand on her arm to stop her. Fiona’s expression and posture didn’t change, but Sasha saw the flaring of her nostrils and the subtle tightening of the muscles around her eyes.
Consensus? Sasha asked telepathically.
A no-touch rule is going to seriously cut down on the damage we can do to the vamps, Brian said, sounding irritated. I was hoping to set a few viruses loose in their network, bomb them from the inside.
And the whole point of this was that we were supposed to get what’s in that box, Rebecca said.
Not the whole point, Sasha said. If we can get the data files and find out what was in the box, won’t that be good enough to make the Elders happy?
I’m not sure there’s any way to make the Elders happy right now, Rebecca said, her thoughts sounding uncharacteristically bitter.
Sasha is right, Fiona said. The box was small and light; logic suggests that it contained a prototype or a demonstration for whatever was described in the files. If we can obtain that information, we can probably consider the box expendable. Her emerald eyes focused on Brian. And there may be wisdom in not escalating the conflict with the syndicate any more than necessary. Making an example of Viscount would be a public embarrassment to them and would likely invite retaliation.
A wave of cold fear ran through the rest of them at that thought. Up until now the Hive’s skirmishes with Malcolm’s organization had been small and only minimally disruptive, an exchange of petty slights and minor inconveniences. Blowing up Viscount’s network could change all that, and the odds were good that the vamps would not be overly discriminating in their retaliation.
Damn it, Brian said, but Sasha could tell he agreed with Fiona’s assessment of the situation. All right, so we do it her way. Any objections?
There were none. They pulled their attention out of the link and back to the runner in front of them. “It’s a deal,” Brian said. He extended his palm toward Callie, and she clasped it.
“Out of curiosity,” she asked, “Why are we even trying to do this? You couldn't steal this package when it was out in the open. What makes you think we're going to be able to get it out of one of the most heavily defended vaults in the city?"
Brian smiled thinly. "In my experience, it's when people's secrets are behind locks and alarms that they become the most complacent about looking after them," he said. "And besides, this time we'll have luck on our side."
“I can’t believe that with all that preparation you never told me how to change back.”
Eva made an exasperated noise on the other end of the phone. “It didn’t even occur to me,” she said. “I’ve been shifting my whole life! Would you expect a bird to be able to tell you how to fly?”
“If I were falling off a cliff, I think I’d ask it to try,” Danni said dryly. She picked a pair of pants off of the rack and held it up against her waist with her free hand. She couldn’t make any sense of women’s clothing sizes, but this one looked close enough to give it a try in the dressing room.
Eva sighed. “Okay, look. I’m just guessing here, but I think it has to do with desire.”
Danni draped the pair of pants over her arm and picked up another in a slightly different size. “How do you mean?”
“Well, Evan and I tend to trade off when there’s something that one of us really wants to do – or something that one of us really wants the other one to deal with. If I think I want Evan to take over, and he doesn’t, I can usually look back at the situation later and realize that subconsciously I did want to be the one in charge.”
“All right, but you’re talking about two different personalities,” Danni said. “There’s just me.”
“Wrong,” Eva said. “There’s Daniel and Danni. The trouble is that Danni hasn’t had a lot of time to be herself, and you still share so many of your thoughts and feelings with your alter-ego that you can’t tell where you stop and he begins. All of your differences are subconscious, which makes it harder to separate them.”
Danni frowned, then adjusted the phone against her ear as she moved toward the racks of shirts and blouses. “Assuming you’re right,” she said, “why wouldn’t I have been able to change back this morning after I ran into Kevin? I was so embarrassed I just wanted to disappear.”
“On the surface level, sure,” Eva agreed. “But you also fancied him, didn’t you?”
Danni blushed at the memory of it. “Um, yeah,” she admitted.
“There you have it, then. Danni stuck around because she was hoping to get lucky.”
“What?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Eva asked. “A sexy bit of man-flesh walking around with no top on, and the androgyne libido being what it is?”
“That’s crazy,” Danni hissed. “Kevin’s gay, for gods’ sakes. If I were thinking like that, I’d have had a better chance if I switched back to Daniel.”
“There you go again, thinking that this is about thinking,” Eva said. “Danni, think about it. Daniel doesn’t fancy men, but Danni obviously does. If Danni registers an attraction to a man, she’s going to stick around and explore it, because Daniel hasn’t the tools to process those feelings. It doesn’t matter if you know he’s gay. He’s still a man, and his pheromones are still going to flip Danni’s switches. It’s all biochemistry, darling.”
“Don’t lecture me about biochemistry,” Danni muttered. “I make a living off of it.”
“Obviously not in the field of sexual dynamics,” Eva quipped.
Danni sighed. “So you’re saying that I’m not going to change back into a man unless I really, really want to, deep down inside.”
“Well, you needn’t sound so cheeky about it.”
“Sorry. The idea that ‘wishing makes it so’ is something I usually associate with children’s stories and dangerously powerful magic.”
Eva chuckled. “The Curse is dangerously powerful magic, Danni. Dark wizard, visions of conquest, empowered by the dark gods? Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“Now who’s the cheeky one?”
Whatever Eva might have said, it was interrupted by a beep from Danni’s mobile phone. She checked the display and saw that she had another call coming in. She saw the name attached to the phone number and her stomach fluttered. “Hang on, Eva, Jared’s on the other line.” She pushed the button to flip the calls without waiting to hear Eva’s response. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Danni?” His tone was cheerful, relaxed, and polite.
“Hey, Jared!” Danni said. She smiled broadly as she spoke. She’d heard somewhere that people could tell when you were smiling, even on the phone, and she hoped it would be enough to hide her nervousness.
“I wanted to say thanks for pulling me out of my shell last night,” he said. “It was a lot of fun talking and dancing with you.”
“You’re welcome. I had great time, too.” She thought back to their time together on the dance floor, blushing at the memory. She’d used all the tricks Eva had taught her about how to move as a woman, and Jared had bought into it completely. She had let him lead her on the dance floor, but she never stopped being in control of the situation or the level of intimacy between them. She hadn’t allowed it to degenerate into the sort of desperate snogfest that she’d had with Eva earlier in the evening, but she hadn’t been afraid to show off a little sensuality either. Jared, for his part, had been gentle and courteous, letting her set the tone. Even the hug they had shared before parting ways had been completely her idea, though he had been more than willing to hold her against his body one more time.
“Great,” he said. “Listen, I was wondering if you might be available for dinner tonight. I’d love to get a chance to sit down with you and just talk some more – hopefully someplace that isn’t quite so loud.”
“That might be a good idea, yes,” Danni said, chuckling. “I don’t have any plans for tonight, so yeah, it’s a date.”
“Fantastic,” Jared said. Danni realized that they were right; you could hear a smile through a telephone. “Should I pick you up at, say, six o’clock?”
“Done and done. I’ll send you the address as soon as we’re off the line. See you tonight!”
“Until then!” Jared said, and rang off.
Danni switched back to the other line. “Back,” she said.
“Aaaand?” Eva purred.
“And we’ve got a date. He’s picking me up at six.”
“Boy moves fast,” Eva said, amused. “Nice to see some decisiveness from the male half of the species. Will you need help getting ready, darling?”
Danni looked down at the clothes on her arm. “I think I’ll be all right this time,” she said. “I’m picking up some clothes to round out my wardrobe. Men’s jeans do not fit right on this body.”
“Believe me, I know the feeling. Call me if you need any emergency advice, won’t you?”
Danni smiled. “Count on it,” she said.
Eva rang off, and Danni pocketed the phone and turned her attention back to shopping. She had only a few hours before her first real date with a man, and for some reason she felt very strongly that she wanted to look her best for him.
