“Hey.” Leaning down, she kissed his face, pressing her cheek to his, and he felt his muscles relax more, involuntarily that time. “Nick. What’s wrong? You look fine. Apart from the bruises on your chest and jaw… and the casts… you look almost like yourself. Tai wanted to see you. I thought it was okay, now that you were mostly yourself again.”
“How long was I out? What time is it now?”
He saw her gaze go inward.
She checked the time in her headset, then focused back on him.
“Six o’clock.” When he frowned, opening his mouth to ask, she answered before he could. “P.M., Nick. It’s the day after the fight. Right around sunset––”
“You’ve been here all day? Her, too?”
Her puzzlement intensified. “Yes. She came in the morning. She sat with you for about an hour. Then she left with her brother and Ms. St. Maarten––”
“You shouldn’t have let her come down here,” he growled.
She blinked at him in surprise.
“Why not?” She sounded bewildered, and borderline offended now. “She wanted to see you. She was really upset, Nick. She knew what had happened to you. She showed up on my doorstep last night, and asked me to take her to see you. I didn’t feel right saying no, given what I knew she probably saw in her head when it happened. So I called her brother, and he met us at the station––”
“You know what she is?”
Her frown deepened. “Of course I know. You think St. Maarten didn’t tell me? She’s a hybrid. A psychic one, like me. Only St. Maarten said she can read vampires, too––”
Nick grunted, fighting to get up again.
Wynter pressed down on his chest, more urgently that time.
“Nick. Calm down––”
“She played you,” Nick growled, looking up to meet her gaze. “She played you, Wynter. Don’t you get that? That, or her brother did.”
Wynter stared back at him.
“Tai? That little girl?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
She studied his eyes, her stare unwavering.
Then her lips turned in a harder frown.
He expected her to be offended again, especially given his tone, but instead her voice grew brusque, businesslike.
“Explain,” she said. “Explain what you mean, Nick. How did she play me?”
He fought to get his arm free, then forced himself to relax when she pressed down more firmly on his chest.
“You’re going to have to wait for them,” she said, her voice warning. “I have no idea how to get you out of that thing… so you might as well tell me what you meant, Nick.”
Frustrated, and now hearing alarm bells going off all through his mind, he clenched his jaw. Thinking about Wynter’s words, he forced himself to lay back in the gelatin-like substance.
“She interrogated me,” he said, blunt, staring up at her. “While I was high on whatever that vampire doc gave me. She asked me a bunch of questions… about who I thought set me up, about what I remembered about Farlucci, what I thought about Farlucci’s people, about the other fighters. She asked me about White Death…”
Frowning, still thinking aloud, he added,
“These weren’t little kid questions, Wynter. She either had someone standing right there, feeding these things to her, coaching her on what to say, or she’s had training. Highly specialized training. Infiltrator training… like the old-school seers. Like the military-trained seers from the war, the ones who fought for the Army of the Resurrected Fallen…”
He trailed, remembering.
He remembered what Tai asked him.
He remembered Tom, and Tom’s message from Brick.
“Fuck. She asked me about White Death,” he muttered. “About vampires I knew, back when I still ran with them––”
“What was she looking for?” Wynter said. “What did she want to know?”
Nick frowned, thinking about that, thinking about it specifically.
He thought about what Tai asked, the answers he’d given.
He thought about what she kept steering him back to.
“The vampire ring,” he said, blunt. “She wanted to know who was behind the vampire ring. She grilled me on Farlucci, wanting to know if Farlucci was involved. She did the same about Brick. I told her I didn’t think it was either of them.”
“Who’s Brick?” Wynter said.
Nick glanced up at her, hesitating.
That was definitely a longer conversation.
“Just a vampire I knew,” he said. “From White Death.”
When she frowned, clearly knowing he was hedging, Nick cut off what he saw forming in her eyes.
“––It’s not important right now, Wynter. The part I told Tai had to do with Farlucci’s club. White Death had infiltrated them. That vampire I knew had infiltrated them. They’d enslaved one of Farlucci’s people, to act as their eyes and ears––”
“But you don’t think this vampire was behind your being kidnapped at the club? Or you being nearly killed in the ring?” Wynter said, frowning.
Nick shook his head. “No. Actually, I…” He hesitated, looking up at her, embarrassed for some reason. “…I think they were trying to protect me.”
“White Death was trying to protect you?” Wynter said, still frowning.
“Yeah,” Nick admitted, feeling the words like a confession. “Brick, anyway. I think Brick was trying to protect me. In his own twisted way.”
He saw her jaw harden. He saw her wanting to ask him about it.
He saw her really wanting to ask him about it––
“Don’t worry about Brick, Wynter,” he said, trying to stop the look he saw building in her blue-green eyes. “Don’t freak out about that. Okay?”
“How did he try to help you?” she said, her voice carefully neutral.
“He exposed his plant… one of Farlucci’s people, the one he’d been feeding off of, the one he’d enthralled with his venom. He let me see the guy was compromised so he could use him to warn me––”
“Which one?” she said, her voice sharper. “Which one of Farlucci’s people was he controlling?”
“Tom. The guy who was acting as my handler for the fights. Tall. Fighter-type. I don’t think I’ve ever got a last name––”
“Thomas Hernandez,” she said.
Nick blinked, glancing up at her.
Seeing her expression, he frowned.
He knew what she was going to say even as she said it.
“He’s dead, Nick,” she said. “They found him in one of the tunnels leading into the stadium. About an hour after your fight ended.”
“How?”
“Vampire,” she said at once. “He’d been drained almost entirely of blood. Whoever did it tore out his throat afterwards.”
Nick grimaced.
His mind had come full circle, though.
He was thinking about Tai, about what he’d told Tai.
“The bartender,” he muttered. He glanced up at Wynter. “And the guy with the mohawk. I gave her leads. Two of them.”
“Tai? You gave Tai two leads?”
Nick nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you think there was anything to either of them?” she said. “Which one do you think would get her closer to the killers?”
As she spoke, the door behind her opened.
Nick couldn’t see it, but he heard it.
It echoed through the soft room with the vampire-friendly lighting, shockingly loud after how quiet it had been when it was just him and Wynter. He listened to the footsteps as they crossed what sounded like a tile or linoleum floor.
Before they reached him, he looked back up at her face.
“The fighter,” Nick said. “The fighter with the mohawk. The one who fought the first night I went to the stadium. Tell Charlie to look for the vampire with the brown mohawk who tore off the guy’s jaw. She’ll know who I mean…”
Wynter nodded, even as she took her hand off his chest, straightening to ge
t out of the way of the three vampire techs who’d filed into the room, surrounding the bathtub-like container where Nick hung, suspended. He watched them look down at him, barely bothering to make eye contact with him before they started assessing the condition of his body.
Nick saw one stealing surreptitious looks at Wynter, staring at her body and face like he’d never seen a fucking woman before.
Another one, a younger one, stared at her even more openly, his eyes going from her face to her breasts then back to her face.
“I can see you, you know,” Nick growled.
All three techs looked down at him.
The two who’d been staring at Wynter flinched.
The older one had the grace to flush.
The third tech, an older human with gray-streaked black hair, glanced at Wynter, then at the other two, as if he’d already guessed what Nick was talking about.
“You keep looking at my girlfriend like that, I might feel the need to rip your arms out of their sockets when I get out of here––”
“Nick,” Wynter snapped. “Shut up.”
He turned, looking at her.
Embarrassment mixed with annoyance when he growled, “Like you’re Miss Rational, all of a sudden––”
“That’s not what I meant,” she cut in, the warning in her voice sharper. “I want them to get you out of this thing, Naoko. They’re not going to do that if you’re threatening people’s lives. So calm your psycho-paranoid vampire shit down and shut up. At least until they’ve signed your release papers. All right? Are you hearing me now?”
Nick opened his mouth to argue.
Then, thinking about her words, he shut it, scowling.
The older medical tech, the human with the gray-streaked black hair, looked between them. Staring at Wynter, then at Nick, he blinked in what was almost shock.
When Nick aimed his scowl up at him, the male human hid his smile with an effort, clearing his throat. He made his voice businesslike, like he hadn’t heard or seen anyone say or do anything since he’d walked through the door.
“Well, Mr. Tanaka,” he said brightly. “How are you feeling? Are you ready to get out of this thing and back to your adoring fans?” He glanced down at computerized band on his own wrist, and the virtual readings it projected in the space above his arm. “I hear it was quite a fight. But given how you ended it, I can’t say I’m sorry to have missed it.”
Wynter grunted.
The tech smiled at her, adding to Nick,
“I’m sure your loved ones appreciate that you did end it. From the shape you were in when they brought you in here, that was a hell of a finish––”
“Yeah,” Wynter said, grunting again. She folded her arms. “That’s one way to put it.”
Taking his eyes off Wynter with an effort, Nick looked up at the tech, making his voice as calm and polite as he could.
“I feel fine, doc. Thank you for asking,” he said, ignoring Wynter’s involuntary snort. “––and thanks for everything your team did to bring me back.” He paused. “I’m ready to get out of here, though. So if my body is more or less working––”
“It is,” the tech affirmed. “Your arm might take a few more days. You more or less pulverized it. Same with the ribs that are growing back. Your collarbone might hurt you a bit, too, at least until the main break grows back together.”
Smiling faintly, he waggled a finger at Nick.
“So no fighting, Mr. Tanaka,” he said. “Not for a few weeks, at least. Listen to your friend here, and go home. Confine your battles to who gets to choose the program on the network, and who gets which side of the couch…”
Wynter smiled at that, as if she couldn’t help herself.
Nick glanced at her, and smiled too, unable to stop himself either.
His smile faded though, as he remembered what he and Wynter had been talking about before the techs walked through the door.
He had to find that damned kid.
He had to find her, before her brother or St. Maarten got her killed… or worse.
Assuming they hadn’t done worse to her already.
Chapter 24
Technically
Nick stretched his spine, his face tightening as he shoved his arm into a sleeve, pulling the shirt around his back and shoulders.
He glanced at Wynter as he began buttoning up the front.
She was pacing the small dressing room in front of him, watching him, her lips pursed.
He interpreted her look less as annoyance or even criticism of what he was doing, and more an open assessment of him, and not only of his physical condition.
He could also see her thinking, weighing some decision in her mind.
He hadn’t figured out that part yet.
It hit him again how new they were to one another still, how little he knew about her, about her background. He’d avoided asking her some things, mostly about her past relationships and her marriage, in particular––but that left a shitload of other things he knew next to nothing about and hadn’t had a chance to grill her on yet.
He found himself wondering some of those things now.
Again, he didn’t have time to ask her any of it.
“You should go,” he said, tucking in his shirt and reaching for the ends of his belt to buckle it up. “Head back north on the next train. I’ll meet you up there when I––”
She laughed.
He turned, frowning faintly.
Seeing the look forming on her face, he backed down, studying her eyes cautiously.
“Wynter, I’m still a cop––”
“So you’re going to contact your detective partners first thing, right? You’re going to call Damon? Detective Morley?” Wynter’s voice was openly derisive. “Sure you are, Nick.”
“Wynter––”
“You’re going after Tai. Don’t pretend you’re not.”
Nick hesitated, and Wynter threw up her hands in frustration.
“You need my help,” she snapped. “You need my help, Nick.”
He frowned. He didn’t want to offend her.
He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her, either.
“Wynter, honestly? I don’t,” he said. “I don’t need your help. In fact, if I have to worry about how you’re doing, if you’re safe, it’s going to make everything about a hundred times harder… and slower… for me.”
She glanced around, as if looking for witnesses.
Then, her face now hardened in anger, she stepped right up to him, putting her face in his. She spoke so low, even he barely heard her.
“I’m psychic,” she said.
He blinked.
“You’re going to talk to her first, right?” Wynter said next, without moving away from him, or raising the volume of her voice. “St. Maarten. You think she’s behind this… that she’s put Tai up to this in some way, or she’s using her as some kind of…” She motioned with a hand, disturbingly seer-like. “…Kid assassin. Right? Am I reading you right on this, Nick?”
Nick gave her a disbelieving look.
He couldn’t help it.
He glanced at the door the way she had, then stepped closer to her.
“We can’t talk about this here, Wynter––” he growled, low.
“You need me, Nick,” she cut in, standing her ground. “You need me.”
“St. Maarten knows about…” He glanced at the door again, then back at her, frowning. “…People like you.”
“But she doesn’t know about me,” Wynter said, frowning. “No one does.”
Nick gave her an openly skeptical look.
Stepping back from her, he sat on the padded bench there, pulling over his anti-grav boots and shaking out his first sock. He began putting them on as he looked up at her again, simultaneously frustrated with her, worried about her, impressed that she’d followed his train of thought with such pin-point accuracy… and, for reasons he couldn’t even begin to explain to himself… a little turned on.
“You can bet she does,
” he said. “Her son knew. Remember? He recorded us, Wynter. At Kellerman.”
She shook her head, once. “No. He didn’t record us. His friend did.”
Nick gave her an exasperated look. “What difference does that––”
“I got every single one of those recordings,” she said. “The originals. Before the police thought to search the dorms of her son’s friends. I erased them. Not just the tapes, Nick. The boys. Including St. Maarten’s son.”
Nick froze.
He sat on the bench, and his mind spun around her words.
He was still fighting to think through what she’d said as he shoved his second foot into his second boot. Clicking the indentation by his ankle once he had his foot situated, he watched the semi-organic bands slide around the outside of the boot, locking the material so that it conformed exactly to his flesh.
He rose to his feet, looking at her.
Shaking his head, he frowned.
“How do you know it’ll stick?” he said, blunt. “How do you know it did stick? She has her own… people. They could have interviewed her son, too. Noticed gaps.”
She let out another outraged laugh.
“Look, I didn’t tell you how to fight… maybe you shouldn’t try telling me my business with this.”
“Your business?” He frowned at her openly that time. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Wynter?”
She folded her arms, her jaw hard. Looking at her, he realized this was it––this was the decision she’d been grappling with.
She’d been trying to decide whether to tell him this.
“You have training,” he growled. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Realizing he’d said that too loud, he glanced around at the walls and scowled.
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Nick,” she said, quiet. “I let her pet, Malek, handle things with St. Maarten’s ex-husband. I knew they’d notice gaps with him. I was careful with the son. Very careful. I know what I’m doing.”
Nick’s voice rose, in spite of himself.
“You don’t know who you’re playing with, with people like her,” he growled.
“And you clearly don’t know who I am, if you think you need to tell me that,” she said, her voice quiet and calm, but holding a colder edge. “Maybe you shouldn’t assume you’re the only one who knows things, Nick… and remember I’ve lived like this for a long time. My whole life, in fact. I managed to do it completely on my own until recently, too.”
Eyes of Ice Page 29
