by C. T. Adams
The voices were getting louder, and it annoyed me I couldn’t make out what was being said. The machines were playing hell with my hearing. Everything was high-pitched. It was knocking the midtones out of my brain. But you don’t ignore Carmine, so I nodded and kept my eyes on him. “Got it. Get the kid, get the knife, take out the hitters . . . messy, and come back with the prize.”
“You going to have any problem with your people?” It was weird hearing him talk about my people, an acknowledgment that I wasn’t his people anymore.
I shrugged. “Already got it covered. There’s a price, but there always is, and it won’t come back on you.”
He nodded. “Your usual rate.”
I held up my hand and shook my head. “No charge. This one’s on the house.”
He let out a growl that would do a wolf proud. “Your usual rate. I’m not a charity case. I pay my bills, just like always.”
I’d pricked his pride and hadn’t meant to. But I didn’t want to get into a situation where I was taking money on the side while working for Lucas. I had an idea, though. If it worked I’d be a really happy camper and Lucas might growl, but not too loud. “You want to pay me back? Fine. You get me back my car. I miss the old girl. Restored condition, but untraceable, and we’ll call it square.”
I knew where the car was, and so did he. My old ‘67 Mustang Fastback had been my pride and joy. It was black with a white interior, and had all original equipment. It was presently in the possession of my old buddy Jocko, who ran the bar where I used to hang out. He got it by default when I accidentally trashed his Lincoln while chasing down some kidnappers who’d grabbed Sue. But I hated giving it up. I wanted it back. And, I knew Jocko had torn out the front driver’s seat to be able to drive it. Yes, he’s just that tall, but it was original. It would need extra work to make it like new again.
He nodded and had a little smile on his face that he wasn’t explaining. “Done and done.” He offered his hand, which was attached to a variety of tubes. I took it and shook it as firmly as I dared without yanking off any tape.
“You can find them in Atlantic City, a new casino they’re calling the Quetzalcoatl. I think it’s a stupid name . . . way too tough for people to spell and pronounce. But it’s easy to find. You can’t miss it.”
Yet another tie-in to the snakes. I thought I remembered my mythology that a quetzacoatl was a winged serpent that was the god of wind and rain. Or maybe it was lightning and storms. Something like that anyway. I winked at Carmine and gave him a small smile. “Don’t tell Linda I was here. After all, you didn’t want me to see you.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back heavily into the pillows. “I love the woman, but she just doesn’t get me some days.”
I was almost to the door, where things had quieted down outside when I snapped my fingers. “By the way, congrats on the kid. Have a name yet? Boy or girl?”
He smiled and there was no mistaking the orange-scented happiness that covered over the antiseptic of the room. “We decided to be surprised. If it’s a boy, Vincent, after my granddad. Middle name’s up in the air. Linda says Matthew, but that sounds weird . . . Vincent Matthew. She’s coming up with some others from the baby book, but some of those names are flat strange. I mean, Denim? Who wants a kid named after blue jeans? If it’s a girl, though, Barbara wants to call her Isabella Marie. I like that. Bella Leone. Yeah, that’s the one.”
I told him the absolute truth, my hand on the door. “You’ll be a good dad.”
He nodded, but then his eyes hardened. “You just make sure I’m around for that birth. I’m Barbara’s coach, so don’t make me have to go take care of business myself.” Now that surprised me. I nearly laughed, if he hadn’t sounded so fierce about it. Carmine in a Lamaze class making panting noises, stopwatch at the ready? That was almost worth pictures.
I left the room feeling pretty good about his future. I hoped I wasn’t wrong. A figure stepped around the corner just as I hit the hallway. I recognized the scent as friendly, but I couldn’t quite place it. Liz was in the chair, Marvin’s left hand firmly on her shoulder. She was staring after him too, and I didn’t like the look in her eye.
I took a slow breath, but the antiseptic covered over anything that might be a personal scent. I looked sharply at Mike. “Who just left and why were people yelling out here?”
The big guy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Oh, it was just Louis. He wanted to go in and measure the room, but we wouldn’t let him. You said private, so it was.”
Louis. Yeah, that could have been him. But I hadn’t seen him in long enough that I didn’t remember what he smelled like. I squinted my eyes in confusion. “Measure the room? For what?”
Marvin let out a sarcastic little laugh. “What else? A poker table. Said he didn’t see any reason why the game couldn’t go ahead as planned. Even if it was just for fun . . . no money chips.”
Man, that guy is a gambling whore. Liz opened her mouth to say something but I shook my head. She closed it again, but didn’t like it. “Did Louis know it was me in there?”
Mike looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Private meetings are private. You know that. Carmine said to let you in if you came by, but we thought it was the drugs talking. I mean, the papers said—”
I nodded once and motioned for Marvin to let go of Liz’s shoulder. “And as far as you know, the papers were right. I’m laying so low right now I have to look up to see the devil’s ass.”
Marvin nodded just as Liz let out a guffaw. He pointed down the opposite hallway. “Then use the stairs around the corner. They come out the side of the building . . . an unmarked employee entrance. Louis said he’d be right back, and if you don’t want to run into him—”
Good advice. I shook both of their hands solemnly and we wished each other a safe journey through life. It might be the last time we ever laid eyes on each other. They knew it too.
Liz was real quiet as we ducked into the stairwell and started to make our way down the six flights to the ground floor. It wasn’t until we reached the underground parking garage, with enough time to actually do as I told Lucas and get some meat, that she finally spoke. “Those guys really respect you, huh? They said it had been an honor to know you. That’s not real normal language.”
I shrugged and pressed the button to open the door locks. “I like to think so. I’ve sure as hell earned a little respect.”
She paused and then took a deep breath, her hand on the latch. She stared at me over the roof of the car, eyes intent and focused on my face “Okaaay . . . so it’s probably none of my business, and you can tell me to shut up now and not answer this next question, but I have to ask it. Was that some sort of mob capo you were visiting? When that Louis guy showed up, he made my skin crawl. He smelled weird, pretty obviously had a gun under his jacket, and the guards sounded like a Sopranos episode talking to him. And don’t pretend they weren’t guards. If those were friends, visiting like you, I’ll eat my hat. What kind of person are you to visit someone like him and have those guys respect you?”
Oh, sure, I could be insulted at the question. But she was a nice, white-bread girl who’d just gotten thrown into a harsh world without any entrance exam. My world. I’m not ashamed of it, and not afraid of defending my choices. It also wouldn’t do any good to lie, but I couldn’t tell her everything either. I got inside the car and she followed, still watching my face. Her nostrils were flared, probably watching for any sign of the emotions I told her she could smell. “There are lots of kinds of people in the world, kiddo. You just met one kind. Lucas and Charles . . . they’re another. There are good people, bad people, and neutral. Me? I’m neutral—somewhere in between the two, neither fish nor fowl. But I can both swim and fly.” I stuck the key in the ignition and fired up the engine. It purred quietly. Nice machine. I’d get one if Carmine couldn’t manage to round up my old one. “I take lives, I save lives. Sometimes both at once. What you wind up being is entirely up to you. Just know that people can be happy in both
roles, and miserable in both. I’m one of the happy ones, on both sides of the coin flip.” I turned in my seat, put an arm on the headrest and raised my brows at her. “Now, let me ask you a toughie. Let’s say you happen upon a man who has just attacked a young woman, wearing a wedding ring and with an empty infant seat in the back of the vehicle she was getting in. You know . . . absolutely know without a doubt from using those shiny new supernatural senses that he’s going to rape, torture, and kill her. Would you kill him?”
She shook her head quickly and surely. “I’d call the police.”
I met her indignation with a smile and a slow shake of my head. “Sorry. No police allowed. He’s Sazi, she’s human, and if the cops arrest him and hold him past the full moon, we’re all discovered. Humans will panic and there’ll be genocide on a worldwide scale of a kind you couldn’t imagine. You’re the only thing standing in his way. So, I ask again. Would you kill him? You can smell his lust and need for pain. It’s a thick, oily, nauseating scent that makes you want to scrub down in a shower afterward. Her fear makes your jaw tighten . . . and his too. What will her blood make his animal want to do? Eat her, bit by bit while she’s awake and feeling it? It’s probably already occurred to you that we’re really good at torture. And remember this is real life, not a movie with a happy ending. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again if you let him go . . . even if you get her to safety. Are her kids next? Her address is in her wallet. You can walk away, or you can kill him.”
Liz looked sideways at me for a long moment, as I eased the car into traffic, bound for the airport. She started shaking her head, but her scent was cold-metal determination, blended with the slightest touch of fear. “Then yes, I suppose I’d have no choice. I couldn’t just walk away and let her die. I guess I would.”
I eased to a stop at the traffic light and turned my head to catch her gaze. I let my eyes fade to the blank, expressionless killer ones I’ve had for a really long time. She shivered abruptly, unable to ignore what she saw. “So did I.” I let that sink in for a moment before I returned my eyes to the road. “Like I said . . . it’s real life. What kind of person do you think that makes me?”
The wheels started turning in the girl’s mind so fast you could nearly smell smoke. I liked that she didn’t have good answers and was thoughtful. I figured eventually she’d get tapped for Wolven, being an alpha and an animal most Sazi would naturally fear. The cab was silent for a long time, until we were on the freeway headed east. That was fine with me. The sun was already long past hitting me in the eyes, and the day was perfect for flying—clear and cloudless. Denver’s a pretty city, so I just enjoyed watching the scenery, trying not to sneeze. The blend of scents from her was pretty much every one in the book and it was like walking into a flea market where every smell imaginable assaults your nose at once. Finally, when we were less than a dozen miles from the airport, she shook her head again. “You’re a very unusual man, Mr. Giodone.”
It was the first time she’d called me by that name. I tried to remember where she’d heard it. I’d been Davis to this point. The traffic in front of me began to dissolve in favor of trees and vines. Crap, crap, crap! Really bad timing here!
Clouds began to appear like magic and I could taste thick creosote, like licking a railroad tie. I dove quickly onto the shoulder of I-70. So quick, in fact, that Liz threw her hands forward onto the dashboard, and luggage flew from the backseat to bounce against the headrests. We stopped in a swirl of gravel, horns honking all around us. “You have no idea, kiddo. See, I’m about to disappear from this car, so we’re going to have to switch places. You’ll have to drive and I’ll be really annoyed if we wind up anywhere but the airport.” At least she was unlikely to ditch me, being on the side of an unfamiliar highway.
She unbuckled her belt and opened the door, confused as all get-out. Rather than risk opening mine when I couldn’t see clearly, I unbuckled and scooted over to the passenger seat. I was fading in and out now, the black hole in my mind threatening to eat me alive.
As soon as traffic cleared enough to open the door, she hopped in. “But I don’t know where I’m going. I’ve always been a passenger coming out of Denver.”
I reached for the lever next to the door that would lay the seat back. “You can’t miss it. Just look for the Pena Boulevard exit. It’s a two-lane exit to the right and only goes one place . . . the airport. Hopefully I’ll be back with you before we get there. But if not, head for the Departures section and park in the covered lot near one of the United check-ins.”
Now she was looking concerned, because the headache was back and she could probably smell the pain. “Are you okay?”
I let out a small chuckle and closed my eyes. “Not really, but it’s a hazard of the job. As you learn the ropes, you’ll probably hear a lot about this group of exalted people that the Sazi call the seers. I’m one of them. We have weird psychic shit happen—seeing the future, the past, and all points in between. Oh yeah. Real exalted. It hurts and it’s annoying as hell because you can’t predict when it’s going to lay you flat on your back.” I paused and opened my eyes, ignoring the pain so I could make my point. She glanced at me, blinker on, ready to leap back into interstate traffic. “I don’t recommend it as a career choice.”
And then I was out again.
Chapter Fourteen
NASIL LOOKED DOWN at the gas gauge and tapped it, hoping as I did it would rise above the red line just a fraction. “I’ve never tried to milk the tanks this dry before. The camp’s just over the next rise, but it’s a question mark at this point whether we’ll make it.”
I had no particular fear of plane crashes. I’d survived a dozen before. But I wouldn’t relish telling Lucas the Wolven jet was scattered across the Honduran jungle. “You’ll have to find a way to make it.”
“We’ll land.” It was a solid mass of leafy green below us, with no flat surfaces, leading up to a high peak. Nasil apparently caught my incredulous look because he shrugged. “There really is a landing strip at our camp. I’ve no desire to walk out of the jungle either.”
“Why are you in the jungle? You could have gone anywhere after I killed my father.”
He raised his brows in amusement. “After who killed your father? I seem to remember a certain young female tiger who did most of the killing.”
“Tahira couldn’t have done it alone. You know that as well as I. She would have burned up from his power if she hadn’t shared it . . . with me. You do know I gained a great amount of my father’s power, don’t you?”
He didn’t reply for a long moment, but his tongue flicked out cautiously. There was nothing for him to smell, no way for him to dispute the facts—mostly because he left before the end. Deserted both my father and Antoine in order to escape with his lover. And I couldn’t imagine he’d kept up with news about the council since then. He tried to keep his voice from showing any inflection, but he failed. “Have you? And what have you gained?”
Oh, no. It wouldn’t be that easy. “Betray me, and you’ll discover firsthand. I’m no longer someone to be dismissed as weak or impotent.”
I used those words intentionally. I’d heard them from my father’s lips to his ears, years ago. He stared at me for a long moment, eyes unblinking and cold. But a hint of surprise leaked out from underneath the unfeeling exterior at my lack of expression or scent. I’d never before challenged his authority, nor given any indication I was a match for him. I’d longed to track him down right after Sargon died, when the powers I gained were at their peak. That they were fading now said I’d probably eventually lose them all, which was frustrating. But I was fairly confident I was still Nasil’s equal . . . or better.
Tuli poked her head in just then. I looked toward her, but she carefully avoided my gaze. “Are we nearly there? The terrain looks familiar.”
Nasil turned his gaze from me to her. He had to get in one last dig before we landed. “Just over the next rise. You should both probably resume your discussion in the back.”
If he expected me to flinch or show any embarrassment, he was disappointed. Tuli wasn’t looking at either of us. She was staring out the front window and raised a finger to point. “Is that smoke on the horizon? Why would they be lighting the cans in broad daylight?”
At my questioning look, Nasil explained. “We fill oil cans with gasoline-soaked rags and burn them at night to keep away el tigre. It lets us get a few hours sleep since Sargon left. They never approached the camp when he was here, but now they’ve grown bolder.”
“You have tigers in the jungle?” That did surprise me. Where were they imported from?
“Jaguars,” Tuli answered. “But the locals call them tigers. They don’t realize there’s a difference. And the cats have gotten a taste for snake lately so they’re a real problem. But we normally don’t see them in the daylight.”
As the hillside flowed under us, and the engines began to sputter and whine, my brows raised. “I don’t think the jaguars are your biggest problem anymore.”
It wasn’t just cans burning on the wind. It was the camp. The smouldering remains of brick residences and elaborate wooden buildings were scattered across a broad area. I’d thought of camp as being just a few ramshackle storage buildings and some tents. I’d had no idea of the scale of the project father had been planning. It was a small city down there. Or it had been. I didn’t notice any people around. At least upright ones. There were a number of bodies sprawled in openings between the trees and I could finally see the landing strip. I frankly didn’t think it was long enough for the jet, but Nasil seemed confident.
“Eternal Anu!” Tuli exclaimed. “What happened?”
Nasil let out a hiss of frustration. “Federales, rival drug cartels, maybe even just an accident in the lab. Hard to say. I guess we’ll find out. But let’s see if anyone is still down there.” He adjusted his headset and pushed a button on the console, as I digested that there was a lab. What had they been making? “Cinco, Cinco, Ocho, Be. Bien?” I supposed it wasn’t surprising they had to speak Spanish down here. It wasn’t a language I was terribly familiar with, but I could learn languages fairly quickly when exposed to them. Nasil repeated his call and then turned a dial. “Maybe they switched frequencies.” He said the words again, even as he was lowering the landing gear. He listened intently and then turned on the speaker for Tuli’s and my benefit. There was only dead air. Not even static. “It doesn’t look good. It might be that the government finally managed to locate the camp. They’ve been trying for nearly a decade.”
