House of Strife (Poisoned Houses Book 4)

by Lyn Forester

  Just as soon as we’re done exploiting the blind spot in the city’s security system.

  Felix bounces on his toes as we ride the lift down, his nervous energy almost too much to handle in such close quarters. His hands open and close at his sides and his biceps flex, making me worry.

  I lean forward to catch his attention. “You are not allowed to punch Dec as soon as you see him.”

  He rolls his neck. “I make no such promises.”

  “He’s still recovering,” Connor points out, his hand stroking down my spine in a soothing gesture. Then he leans down, his low tone meant only for the two of us. “How are you doing? Does anywhere hurt?”

  I turn my head to scowl at him. “We are not having that conversation again.”

  I don’t know why he keeps poking at me. Should I be in more pain? Is it unusual that I’m not?

  This is when having other female, human friends would be nice. Maybe I can ask Skittles? We’re not exactly friends, but I think she’d be open to it. Or maybe she’d just hand me a skin-vid and call it good enough. Hard to say with Skittles.

  When the doors open, Felix practically sprints out, running down the shadowed hall ahead of us. He stops outside the office, where light splashes out. Someone arrived ahead of us, and when Felix stays rooted in place, his hands opening and closing, I can only assume it’s Declan.

  Unsure how long Felix will be able to restrain himself, I lengthen my steps to join him, Connor right behind.

  I grab one of Felix’s clenched fists, my palm tingling at the contact, and gently tug him into the room.

  Declan rises from the couch, his eyes bouncing between us, and he takes a hesitant step forward.

  Felix tsks loudly, pulls from my grasp, and circles the long way around the coffee table to stay away from him. He slouches into one of the chairs, his angry gaze daring Declan to come closer. Wise man that he is, Declan stays on his side of the table and turns to face us.

  “It’s good to see you again.” Connor strides forward to pull him into a hug and they pound each other’s backs. “You’re looking better.”

  And he does. I step in to take Connor’s place, studying Declan’s face. Still lean, but the dark circles are gone and some of the healthy glow has returned to his skin. Sharp focus fills the golden-brown eyes that meet mine before he pulls me in for a hug.

  His head ducks down next to mine, his voice a whisper, “No softening at all?”

  I squeeze him tighter. “Remember that time you wore heeled boots and he kicked your ass?”

  Felix had told me of the first time Declan came at him with the intent to fight and ended up having his ass handed to him. They hadn’t known each other back then, and Declan was angry Felix unknowingly slept with Declan’s lover. At the end of their fight, they both agreed cheaters weren’t worth the heartache and became friends.

  He lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah, but I don’t remember you knowing about that.”

  “We’re all working on being open and honest.” I lean back to kiss his cheek. “You hurt his feelings. I think you’re the first person he trusted outside of Connor, and you betrayed that. Just keep pushing until he talks back.”

  He gives a slight nod before he releases me. Then, he squares his shoulders and steps around the table. “Felix—”

  “Stop.” Felix narrows his eyes on Declan, and he freezes in place. “Are you still planning to leave Leton, even knowing Caitlyn’s not going with you anymore?”

  Declan’s spine stiffens, fine tension rolling off his body, and stays silent.

  Felix looks away. “Then we have nothing to discuss.”

  Declan lifts his chin. “Caitlyn said she’ll come see me in Roen.”

  Felix stiffens, his angry gaze swinging to me.

  Unrepentant, I hold his eyes. “I’m not going to force Dec to choose between living a life of misery with me or a life that can make him happy without me.”

  After a moment, Felix looks away. “It won’t work. Your lives will be too different, responsibilities will get in the way, and you’ll just fade out.”

  Declan flinches to hear his own prediction voiced by Felix, and his head drops in defeat.

  “Sorry, man.” Connor claps him on the shoulder as he strides past to take the second chair. “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

  “I never understood that phrase,” Felix mutters. “Who wouldn’t want to eat the cake?”

  “They’re mutually exclusive alternatives,” Connor explains.

  Felix rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Caitlyn and I are cake. Roen, or wherever the hell he plans to go, is the other. So, he should just eat the cake.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have as big of a sweet tooth as you do, mate,” Skittles purrs as she strides into the room. “Sorry to interrupt what I’m sure is an emotion-filled discussion on dessert, but our time is limited.” Her eyes sweep over us, her expression masked by the tattoos that crisscross her face. “You need to change. You’ll stand out like star shine in those white shirts.”

  “Right.” I walk over to the sidebar where a water pitcher and glasses wait and slide open the cabinet beneath to retrieve the shopping bag stashed there.

  I dig through the shirts, pulling out two dark ones and tossing them to Felix and Connor before I tug on my jacket. Zipped up to my collar, it completely hides my sweater. As the others change, I twist my hair up into a bun and rearrange my night-goggles to hang down my front.

  “Where are we going?” I ask Skittles since we’re obviously not staying here.

  “I located someone who knows about poison, but he’s a shifty bastard and refuses to leave Level 8, so we need to go down.”

  Connor freezes. “But all the lifts are shut down until Quarter-Light.”

  The lifts between levels close when the time wardens shut off all the lights to further discourage people from venturing out into the blackness owned by Night Pirates. They’re the only way between levels unless you’re in a building that extends through the levels, like the Halls of Justice or a few of the tech companies. This is not one such building. Not this close to Central Plaza and newly built.

  “We’re going to use a portal,” Skittles says, her tone bored as if this is normal.

  Which, for most citizens, it is. But the High Houses are a paranoid bunch and never use portals on the fraction of a chance something happens and one of us is lost in the space between existing.

  Felix bounces to his feet. “About fucking time!”

  Skittle’s grins. “Thought that would be your reaction.”

  Connor looks cautious but interested, while fine sweat breaks out over Declan’s face, his skin losing the small amount of glow it regained in his recovery.

  My stomach forms a hard knot against my spine, and I’m suddenly glad for the light snack we ate while we waited for Lights-Out. Otherwise, there would only be acid.

  Skittles claps her hands. “Off we go then. No time to dally.”

  Felix skips to her side quickly, the rest of us following at a less enthusiastic pace.

  She leads us past the lift and down another hall to a door at the end. Unlike the rest of the building, a security panel glows red here. She punches in a code to unlock the room, and I track the numbers easily for future use.

  Why not use a palm reader? They’re more secure than a code. My right hand curls to hide my palm. At least, they’re supposed to be.

  As we step inside, our footsteps ring against the metal grate floor, and I peer through the narrow holes at the glowing cables visible through it. They form thick paths of light that lead to the center of the room, where a curved metal frame forms a ten-foot-tall oval. More glowing cables protrude from the outer edges of the frame, pulsing with life.

  Connor takes his glasses off to stare at the structure. “This looks...”

  “No way this is up to code,” Delcan finishes when he fails to find words.

  Skittles glances over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, I’ll take that up with the city officials who t
otally legally installed it.”

  Felix stands in front of the structure, his lips parted with amazement. “You boosted a portal?”

  “More like reassembled one that had been tossed out.” Skittles strides to a panel next to the portal and taps the screen.

  I hurry over to see what she’s doing.

  She glances at me as she types in coordinates: L8S2R5 for Level 8, Sector 2, Ring 5. I’ve never been to the middle levels. It was always Level 12 or Level 4 and below, where the disc-bike races took place.

  “Nervous?” she asks as she locks in the coordinates.

  I nod. “I’d be foolish not to be.”

  The cables pulse, the glow brightening until I have to squint against the light. The open space inside the portal shimmers, flashing red while it waits for a response to the portal it connects to.

  Portals are one of the Riellio clan’s greatest technological creations, the knowledge passed from master to apprentice. It’s one of the halion sciences that humans just can’t grasp. We lack the talent necessary to create the ether, the empty space that links one portal to another. Even among the colonies, it’s a secret few know.

  When the portal links, an iridescent rainbow spools out from the edges to engulf the red. It reminds me of Myrrine’s skin when she’s happy, with swirls of all pinks, purples, and blues.

  Mesmerized, I step up to Felix’s side to take it in, surprised when I can still see the back wall behind it, distorted by the light. I expected the image to change to the place we were heading. Not being able to see our destination makes stepping through the portal scarier. More of a leap of faith into the unknown.

  Skittles turns to us with a clap of her hands. “I got one of my boys on the other side to act as anchor. He’ll catch you once you’re through and make sure you get out of the way. Don’t want to be tripping over each other.”

  “So, cool.” Felix takes an eager step forward

  Declan grabs his shoulder, then instantly lets go at his glare. “What about DNA registration? In case something goes wrong, and we need to be pulled out of the ether?”

  “Does it look like we have that kind of setup here?” Skittles strides up the platform, her heavy boots echoing. “You either get through or you don’t. How much do you want to figure out what almost killed your family?”

  “We shouldn’t go.” Declan turns to face us. “We can come again another day and use more stable options for travel.”

  “Fuck that shit. You’re not the same person who messed with converter coils and rebuilt those disc-bikes so we could see what flying felt like. When did you become a coward?” Without waiting for a response, Felix sprints past Skittles, disappearing into the shimmering light.

  Skittles shakes her head. “God, I love that boy’s enthusiasm.”

  Connor gives a resolute nod and strides forward.

  “Hold your breath,” Skittles advises as he passes. “Makes it easier.”

  Fists clenching, he vanishes.

  When I go to follow, Declan grabs my arm. “No, it’s too dangerous. What if something happens to you?”

  I twist out of his grasp, walking backward up the ramp. “We’re risk-takers, Dec. My team went through, so I’m going through. I won’t abandon them. But if you need to stay here, that’s okay. We’ll fill you in when we get back.”

  I turn away from his stricken expression, hold my breath, and step through.

  Club Razor

  Cold knifes through me, the air in my lungs turning to ice. For one weightless moment, my heart stutters, frozen within my chest, and then my foot strikes a solid surface and I stumble through. A hand on my arm keeps me moving while my eyes struggle to remember sight, and I gasp warm air into my lungs to melt away the ice.

  My vision clears by the time I reach the end of the ramp, and I join Felix and Connor off to the side. They pull me between their bodies, all of us shivering together in a clump as we face the portal.

  When Skittles strides through, waving off the kid who hurries up to help her, my shoulders slump. Despite my words, I hoped Declan would join us. We’re supposed to be a team, and we’re meeting Skittles’ contact to find out more about how Declan’s family was murdered.

  “Is he really not coming?” Connor whispers as he chafes the circulation back into my arms.

  “Forget about it.” Felix turns away. “We don’t need him to do this.”

  I stay in place, eyes fixed on the shimmering light as I will Declan to step through.

  Skittles stomps toward the panel attached to the portal, ready to shut it down, and my chest tightens with disappointment.

  But she waits, lifting her arm to check the watch she wears. It’s an archaic device, out-paced by the use of dat-bands. But as a Night Pirate, she doesn’t have such luxury.

  She taps her foot, then glances at the kid who hovers at her side. “Mark them up.”

  “Yes’m.” He bobs before he spins on one heel and marches over to us.

  He pulls an oily, black case from his pocket and unsnaps the latch to reveal what looks like paint pots and brushes.

  “Face ta mine,” he mutters, gesturing for Connor to bend down to his level.

  He eyes the case warily. “What’s this for?”

  “Blot out t’ shine sum.” He motions to his own face.

  Gray powder dulls his skin, and thick black outlines his eyes, making his blue eyes pop, but those will be hidden by his night-goggle. A couple hatches mark his cheekbone near his eye, almost invisible through the makeup. When he twists the tops off the paint pots, even his hands are gray, his nails painted a matte black.

  Connor takes off his glasses and bends, eyes closing. The kid pulls out a large, fluffy brush. He dabs it in the large paint pot, shakes off the excess powder, then pats it quickly over Connor’s face and neck.

  “Good hair,” the kid grunts. “Not too much shine.”

  Connor’s eyes open, their grass-green color now brilliant. “Thank you?”

  “No glasses. Too much shine.” The kid turns to Felix, who immediately crouches to the same level. He eyes the open case. “I want the eyes, too.”

  When the kid gives him a narrow stare, Skittles hollers, “Do him up right!”

  Reluctant, the kid powders Felix’s face, then digs out a thick stick from between the paint pots and dutifully smudges around his eyes.

  “Do I get a mark, too?” Felix asks, excited.

  “That you gotta earn,” Skittles says as she checks her watch again.

  Felix straightens. “How do I do that?”

  She grins back at him, baring blackened teeth. “You’ll know when it happens.”

  Felix glances at Connor. “I want to be Skittles when I grow up.”

  ”Pretty sure that’s not possible on multiple levels,” his twin responds.

  “Oh, come on.” I step forward, meeting the kid eye-to-eye without having to bend. “Don’t limit Felix’s dreams like that. He can be whatever he wants to be.”

  Felix grins. “That’s why Sprinkles gets all the love and you only get hugs.”

  “I don’t want all your love, bro. That’s just gross.”

  As the brush nears my face, I close my eyes. It tickles against my skin, smelling of charcoal and dust, and I refrain from asking what’s in it. For all I know, it really is leftovers from a fire and dirt swept off the ground. Without asking, the kid smudges black paint around my eyes, too.

  When I move to step back, he pulls out a thin pencil. “Not done.”

  Dutiful, I stay in place, and he presses the pencil against my cheekbone, twisting it back and forth. It’s uncomfortable, bordering on painful, and I wonder why I get this when the others didn’t. Is it because I’m a girl?

  The kid snaps the case closed, then fishes around in one of the many pockets on his torn black jacket. He pulls out a black mesh hat, cramming it over my fiery red curls, then grunts with satisfaction and steps back.

  “Looks like we’re going to have one more,” Skittles announces as the portal shi
mmers brighter.

  A heartbeat later, Declan stumbles through, falling to one knee with no one there to catch him.

  “Took your damn time.” Skittles slams her hand down on the screen and the light cuts out, leaving the portal empty once more. “Get your ass up and join your team.”

  Declan shakes his head, stumbling to his feet, and walks a zigzag path down the ramp to join us. His eyes widen as he sees our new look, but doesn’t question it.

  The kid opens his case once more with a long sigh of suffering. “Ye want ta eyes, too?”

  Declan glances at us, then shakes his head. “Just the powder is fine.”

  “Hair ain’t that bad.” He peers over his shoulder at Skittles. “Hair?”

  She waves the question away. “Naw, should be fine.”

  He gives a short nod and lifts the powder brush, sweeping it quickly over Declan’s face. When he lifts the thin pencil, Felix frowns. Unlike my hard dot, Declan receives two sharp slashes.

  My hand lifts to my cheek as I share a glance with Connor and Felix. Why did Declan and I get marks while they didn’t? And why are ours different?

  Declan’s resembles the three marks on the kids’ face, and when Skittles joins us, I study her marks. Most of hers are slashes, but I spot dots mixed in among them.

  She grips my arm for a moment, her expression serious, before she faces the others. “Time wardens don’t stop, so neither can we. Off we go.”

  And before I can ask her about the marks, she heads for the door, her long strides putting distance between us quickly. We hurry to catch up, leaving the portal room to enter another hallway, this one less posh than the one we left on Level 12.

  Here, no carpet cushions our footfalls, and dim, yellow light fills the hall from wall sconces that intersperse with closed doorways. No glass offices that would stand out as too upper-class for Level 8.

  We jog down two flights of stairs, then pause at a small landing with a metal door. More stairs lead downward, so either this isn’t the ground floor or this building cuts into the sky level below.

  Skittles reaches for a switch next to the door. “Glasses up, kiddos.”

  Without further warning, she flips the switch and darkness takes over the stairwell. I quickly pull my night-goggles into place, the stairwell flooding to shades of green. When I glance at the others, sparks of green light roll around their eyes from their goggles, but the rest of them blends in with the gray tone of the walls behind them.