The Stolen Sky (Split City Book 2)

by Heather Hansen

  Someone was in the kitchen. She could hear the clink of cookware against a hard surface. To her right, another door was open, and a loud snore filled the hall like off-key music.

  Arden slid out of the bathroom and headed toward what she’d thought would be the main hall and front door. Her booted feet were soundless on the threadbare carpet. It was dark in the hall, though enough light spilled from the living room and the kitchen for her to see.

  She was exposed as she disengaged the locks on the front door. The thrum of adrenaline had settled into her gut like a low-churning warmth. It heated her chest and made her breaths staccato. She hit the pad for the door to open.

  The apartment complex hallway was empty when she slipped into it. There was some light coming from overhead, but most of the bulbs had burned out, which allowed her plenty of dark spaces to use as cover.

  Arden headed toward the front of the building. With Lasair’s hideout here, there would be some sort of lookout standing duty for her to take out.

  In the entrance hall, she found a dark corner beneath the stairs. She tucked herself into it, her body primed to move. Arden withdrew a single blade. Knives were the best when she needed to keep things quiet, though it required her getting close. Using her phaser would make too much noise. The flash of the phase-fire would be too bright in the darkness, and it had too much potential for her to lose control of the situation.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  A girl came out of the opposite hall and into the entrance vestibule. She didn’t bother to look around, careless with her assigned security detail. If Arden was in charge, that kind of negligence would not be tolerated.

  The girl opened the front doorway and took out a vape-disk. She opened the pipe and dragged on the mouthpiece. There was a moment of silence before she exhaled. A curl of smoke wound its lazy way to the ceiling of the vestibule. It smelled of sweetness, with a tang of wildflowers.

  Arden snuck from her hiding place. She moved with a swift lightness, a specter at the girl’s back. One hand coming up to snatch at the girl’s hair, angling her head back, as her other pressed the knife into the girl’s throat.

  She pulled the girl out of the lit doorway with a swift jerk that sent the girl stumbling. Arden made sure to direct their bodies into the darkness. Spinning the girl around, she slammed her into the wall and pushed the knife back into her neck. The girl was smaller than Arden, slower. Her instincts were not as honed. It didn’t take much work to get her into a position to be interrogated.

  The girl and Arden stood face-to-face. She kept the point of the knife on her. Arden would kill her if she stepped out of line.

  The girl knew it too. Fear flared in her eyes, and her breath quickened.

  Arden felt satisfaction at seeing it. That meant that this would go fast, then. Good, because the stubborn, macho ones were irritating. It took many wasted minutes to break them, and she didn’t have the time.

  “I need to know which apartment Lasair is using.” Arden made her voice quiet enough so it wouldn’t carry into the rest of the building. But she made sure to add a menacing undertone.

  The girl blinked. “Who?”

  She twisted the girl’s hair till she winced and then cracked her head hard against the wall.

  The girl let out a cry.

  “Where?” Arden repeated.

  The girl’s eyes were large. “They’ll kill me.”

  “So will I.” Arden raised an eyebrow. “Make a decision: die now, or die later. But at least you’ll have time to prepare if you choose later. Who knows, you might even make it.” Doubtful, once the Lasair learned the girl had betrayed them. Still, Arden thought it was a fair offer.

  The girl swallowed. “I . . .” Fear made her voice squeaky.

  Enough. Arden’s internal clock blared not having time for this. She dug the point of the knife into the girl’s skin. Twisted it so there would be extreme pain but not much damage. Arden didn’t want to kill her if she could help it. Her offer had been sincere.

  The girl winced. “Don’t kill me, please.”

  “Talk.”

  “Second floor, fourth door. Number two fifty-six.”

  “Excellent.” Arden shifted her hand quickly so that the knife’s hard bone handle hit the girl in the temple. It landed with a solid thunk. Arden could feel the push and give, as the pommel connected with the girl’s skull.

  The girl went down like a sack.

  Arden pulled the girl into a dark corner and slid away her knife.

  She then pulled out a pair of micron pads for her gloves. The material was not yet coded. It was see-through and thin. Arden worked delicately as she unfolded the pads and attached them to the palms of her gloves. Then she removed the covering layer, exposing the gel.

  Next she pulled out a tiny wand that looked like a silver tube about an inch tall. She expanded it to its full six inches, running it over the girl’s palm. The wand beeped, and Arden then ran it over the micron pads to embed the scan. The gel heated and began to dip and pivot, recreating the girl’s palm print. When the nanotech hardened, it would feel like skin. It had the same texture and heat signature, and would fool typical scanners.

  When both gloves were done, Arden collapsed the wand and stuck it back into the tool belt at her waist.

  She was cautious as she climbed the stairs. The hallway was deserted. Arden put her palm to the scanner at the door the girl had indicated and waited for it to run its diagnostic. The door slid open, and Arden crept inside.

  As the door slid shut behind her, Arden forced away the feeling of being trapped. She let out her breath, taking a moment to steady herself before she crept forward toward the voices.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Arden crouched low and peered around the corner into the living room. She needed to know how many people were in the room and where they were positioned. It was risky to expose herself, but she needed to get the lay of the apartment and know whom she’d have to fight if things went badly before she searched for Niall.

  Her vantage point was not all that good because it was obstructed by couches and chairs. But she could hear perfectly. Arden began to count how many people were in the room by their different voices. There were at least nine, maybe as many as eleven. Too many to take on her own.

  She pulled out both knives, just in case she needed to throw one. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she tucked her knives close to her chest and then leaned farther into the room. She kept her back to the door frame, using it to steady her body.

  Arden caught sight of Uri. The first thing she noticed was that he had shaved his head. It made him look meaner and somehow bigger, though Uri had always been a behemoth. It emphasized his blocky face and a deformed nose that was wide and squat from one too many breaks. His face was littered with fading bruises turning greenish yellow.

  Arden replayed the last time they’d spoken at the refinery. How he threatened to kill her if he ever saw her again. She believed him. He wouldn’t greet her with friendship.

  As she listened, she realized Uri was truly in charge as Mina had said. He stood at the head of the room, and the others deferred to him, though not exactly with respect.

  Arden couldn’t work out how Uri had ended up as the head of Lasair. He’d been high in the food chain and well regarded, sure. But that didn’t automatically mean that he’d be next in line for the leadership position. Their gang was way more mercenary than that. Usually the biggest backstabber got the prize. And there would be quite a few deaths before the matter would be settled. Including former leaders, which in this case would be her brother, Niall.

  The others she was able to see in the room concerned her. She recognized a few of them, not because they’d been her former gang family, but because they’d been high-ranking members of the other local gangs of Undercity. These were not the leaders—or former leaders—of those gangs. They were the muscle who carried out orders. Several she’d tussled with in the past. It worried her that not all of these gangs just
cashed in on Shine. Some of them peddled things more sinister, things that even Arden had a difficult time justifying.

  They didn’t appear comfortable as they sat together. Their gazes were shifty, as they looked at one another with suspicion. They’d separated themselves into subgroups within the room. It was obvious they distrusted one another. Yet it was clear from the conversation that they were now operating as a single group.

  What had happened to their leaders? Arden supposed they had died in the joint refinery explosion. If the other gangs were as decimated in numbers as Lasair had been, it made sense that they’d band together for protection.

  Uri had never struck her as particularly charismatic. His evident ability to join together various factions of broken gangs didn’t make sense to her. And why had he chosen so many outsiders for his inner circle? She couldn’t fathom how they could be trusted. A gang was family, and these people weren’t part of that family. What was Uri thinking?

  The others began to buzz in her ear. They’d finally noticed she was gone. She’d taken the comm only because if she got in over her head and needed backup, she knew they’d come.

  Still, Arden was glad she’d made it all the way inside before they’d started to annoy her.

  It was Roan who yelled and screamed in her ear now, questioning where she was. He was insistent that she come back immediately. As if his bullying could get her to do what he wanted.

  Arden ignored him.

  She didn’t worry that he would derail her operation at this point. They might follow her into the building, but they wouldn’t come into Lasair’s apartment. Not without getting a set of prints themselves or breaking down the door. And Mina and Nastasia weren’t around to approve that.

  Still, she wished she could tell Roan to shut up so she could concentrate. He had to know she couldn’t verbally respond. And he seemed to take advantage of her inability to cuss him out, conducting a one-sided tirade about what an idiot she was. Arden could take the comm out, but it seemed the easiest way to monitor their progress.

  Roan’s yelling in her ear while she was simultaneously hiding from members of her former gang brought home with clarity the fact that she was friendless. A vulnerability crept up inside her. It wasn’t nervousness or even panic. It was closer to a pain of longing, coloring everything. It made her extra conscious about checking each decision she made because she knew she was emotionally compromised.

  Being here, around Lasair, brought up bitter memories. While she’d been friends with Uri once, their friendship paled in comparison to the memories of Colin. Arden drew in a deep breath, holding it and letting the burn center her. This was not the place to fall apart. Her cousin was gone. Mourning him and the memories that were suddenly as real as the day he died had to be ignored for another hour.

  Before she pulled back, she caught sight of Mariah. Her former friend sat in the back of the room, set deep in her chair as if wanting the cushions to swallow her and allow her to disappear. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, and her feet rested on the seat. But she tracked the movement of the room.

  Mariah had fought beside Arden inside the refinery. Had saved Arden’s life. She hadn’t been there when Uri told Arden they were now enemies.

  Arden was happy that Mariah had escaped. Though she wondered what had transpired since. Mariah looked haunted. Her lips were chapped and cracked. She bit at them, apparently unaware that they bled.

  The room exploded with sound as an argument broke out, reinforcing the tension she’d felt. There were threats, and bullying, and a whole lot of posturing—all the typical stuff but with more of an edge than she was used to. The words had no seeds of friendship to temper them. Arden looked away from Mariah to Uri, who was speaking louder than everyone else.

  He didn’t look pleased at being questioned. His shoulders tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “I want Nakomzer.”

  Arden blinked. Uri wanted the chief of the govies?

  A voice yelled back, “We can’t go to war with them. Didn’t the refinery teach you that?”

  Uri growled. “We’re already at war with them.”

  “Why do you want Nakomzer?” another voice yelled out.

  Yes, why exactly? But the answer never came. Uri deflected, and there was more argument. It was precisely the cover she needed to move farther into the apartment and search for Niall.

  “Arden, I know you can hear me,” Roan yelled. “We’re outside. Give us an update stat.”

  Backing out of the doorway, she slunk down the hall. She paused at what was designed to be a dining room but now served as the center hub. Two people were monitoring various electronics that lay on the table. Neither of them noticed her, and, not recognizing the individuals, she moved on.

  The last room on this side of the apartment was a storage room. Boxes crowded the space. Various logos emblazoned on the side told her they were stolen.

  Arden retraced her steps. She crossed past the room where Uri was currently trying to calm the assembled group, to a kitchen. Peeking inside, Arden was surprised to find Mariah at the stove.

  Mariah stared at the teakettle, her sight unfocused. An empty mug hung loosely in her hand. In the several seconds it took Arden to check the rest of the room, Mariah didn’t move or blink.

  Sliding her knives away, Arden made a sudden decision. She stepped into the kitchen on silent feet. Rounding the room, she stayed out of Mariah’s peripheral vision and slipped in behind her. Quickly, she reached forward and grabbed Mariah. One hand cupped her mouth hard, and the other moved across her chest to pull Mariah back against her.

  Mariah instantly snapped to life. She fought the hands that held her, bringing up her mug to hit Arden in the head while simultaneously kicking out with her foot.

  “Stop,” Arden hissed in her ear. “It’s Arden.”

  Though she wasn’t sure if that was helpful. Arden was the enemy. It was a fact she couldn’t forget.

  It took time for Arden’s words to sink in, but when they did, Mariah paused.

  Arden waited a heartbeat before she slowly released her hold. She kept her arms up, ready to subdue Mariah again if necessary. But allowed Mariah enough room to turn her head and see that Arden spoke the truth. She waited for a tiny nod from Mariah before she fully stepped back.

  She put distance between them. Stepping back more, out of fighting distance, yet close enough to get control again.

  This was the problem with trusting her instincts and not taking a moment to assess the situation. Her instincts usually ran true. Yet Arden had given in to nostalgia. She hadn’t given a thought to approaching Mariah before she’d done that very thing. Now she realized that she’d trapped herself in the center of the building. Mariah could easily yell and bring everyone running. There was no way Arden could fight them all.

  Tension tightened Arden’s chest. She forced herself to stay calm, to plant her feet and keep her hands ready to move. To grab a knife or a phaser and fight her way out should she need to escape.

  Yet Mariah said nothing. She didn’t scream or move. Instead, she stared as if seeing a ghost, her eyes a little too wide and mouth slightly parted. The mug in her hand almost slipped, but she gripped it at the last second. Her surprise melted into frantic movements. With shaking hands, she set down the mug and turned off the teakettle. Then her hands fluttered as she signaled Arden to follow and darted out of the kitchen.

  Mariah led her into a sparse bedroom. Four pallets lined the floor on either side. There was not much else, only a few personal items, but no furniture or cubbies to tuck things into.

  Mariah shut the door to the hall and leaned against it. Her voice was quiet, stressed. “Are you insane?”

  Arden shrugged. She was a fugitive with no friends. “It’s debatable.”

  “This isn’t a joke. How did you find us? How did you get in here?” She made a cutting gesture with her hand, swift and blunt. “Never mind. You’re you. Of course you’d be here.”

  Arden rolled her eyes but took the word
s as a compliment. She couldn’t help the smirk that formed on her mouth.

  Mariah shook her head. “Things are really, really bad. You can’t be here.”

  The smirk died. “How bad?”

  “The other gangs—the members who didn’t join us, they’re trying to run us out of Undercity. They’re forming new groups, so it’s difficult to tell who’s working with whom. It’s war. Three of our members were stabbed on the street tonight. Another two got into a phase-fight with the govies, and they were taken.”

  Arden nodded her head back toward the room she had spied on. “How many has Lasair swallowed up from the other gangs?”

  “The number changes almost daily.”

  Interesting that Uri was having a difficult time keeping a core group together. It affirmed her assessment that he was the worst person to lead. He didn’t have a personality that inspired people. But she couldn’t worry about Lasair. It wasn’t the family she was here for.

  She pressed on with her questions because Mina would want to know. And that might get her out of trouble for lying. “And the other gang leaders?”

  “Most of them were lost at the refinery.” Her voice threaded. “I thought you were gone too.”

  Arden swallowed back a twist of guilt.

  “What’s Uri’s plan to stop the gang fights?” It was bad for everyone if that continued. There would be deaths, and innocent people would get hurt. The govies would swarm Undercity, making it impossible for anyone to move about without notice. It was bad business for everyone. If Uri was the head of Lasair, it fell to him to figure out a way to stop it.

  Mariah looked away. She bit her lip. It was obvious she didn’t want to answer.

  “Mariah,” Arden said, using the voice that bled authority, “that shouldn’t be a difficult question. What is his plan?”

  “He hasn’t said.”

  That wasn’t too surprising. Sometimes plans were kept secret until they were ready to be implemented. Though she doubted Uri had a plan. Her gut told her he was flying blind. It was obvious how much of a mess he was making by the lack of control he had in the meeting. And if he had a plan, wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend?