by CC Bridges
Chase shrugged. “You know the stories, Jeff. The God AI rules Heaven Corp, has its eyes everywhere, even down in Old Trent. If someone could hack a halo….”
“They’d be able to jack right into that network and find out.” That would explain why Luca wanted the halo, but why was he keeping Gabe in reserve? In case the demons couldn’t crack it? “This is fucked, Chase.”
“Why you worried? God AI is just a story, right?” Chase laughed. “Call me when you have something hard for me to do.”
“Right.” Jeff waved him off and cut the signal. He pushed away from the screen, staring at the scraps of half-finished projects in his workshop. His hands twitched with the need to work on something, to let his mind go and solve this problem.
Jeff picked up a sketch tablet, idly doodling with his stylus until he had a pretty good likeness of a wing. He didn’t have the knowledge to make something to exactly match Gabe’s, but all he had to do was fit the weight and basic design. Could he do it? He had plenty of metal, though none of it matched, and he had the equipment to cut and refine the parts. It all depended on his design and programming.
He’d been out of the game for a while, not sure if he could write the intricate code necessary for this kind of thing. But he wouldn’t know unless he tried.
GABE FOLLOWED Ian and Hank, unable to keep his eyes off the two giant towers that stretched upward toward his old home. So much seemed to be going on there, so many of Heaven’s people on the edge of danger here downlevel. Yet he didn’t see a single angel, or demon for that matter. They were in some weird purgatory, a zone controlled by neither, where everyone seemed free to do as they pleased.
His old self would have recoiled in horror at such a thing. Without rules and absolute obedience, there would be chaos and war. But now excitement spiraled in Gabe’s belly, and the possibilities stretched out before him. He didn’t even know the limits, but he had to trust Hank and Ian to guide him in this new world. Jeff trusted them, and Gabe owed his life to Jeff.
They stopped at the end of the line of people waiting outside Lick. Unlike the other clubs with their garish colors and startling hologram advertisements, the building was sedate, painted a flat black with red lights all along the wall. Even the customers seemed to match, dressed in dark clothes, tight and fitted where there weren’t ribbons of skin being revealed.
What kind of mods would someone do to their body to enhance this kind of experience, the game of pleasure and pain? A girl walked right by them with tiny golden wings fluttering on either side of her neck, clearly picking up on the most recent fashion trend before he’d left Heaven. He scanned the rest of the line, seeing nothing more than bright hair colors, skin that gleamed like metal, and one young woman with a tail. She knelt at the feet of someone who could be either male or female, or possibly both. Gabe expected far more interesting sights inside.
“Wait here. I’ll see if we can skip the line.” Ian handed Hank’s leash to Gabe before slipping into the crowd and disappearing.
He looked down at the leash and then up at the smirk on Hank’s face. “How is he going to manage that?”
“We’re frequent customers.”
Of course they were. How did they make their living down in Old Trent? He knew Ian sold some sort of sexual services out in the market, but that wouldn’t translate into currency to be spent in midlevel, unless these clubs weren’t picky about what kind of money they took. Just when he decided to ask Hank, a hand tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.
He pulled back in surprise, not liking the idea of a stranger touching him. The one who grabbed his arm was hardly more than a boy, with too pale eyes and hair that hung limp and lifeless around his head. “Hey, man, got any metal?”
“Step off, Icie.” Hank stood between them. “Nobody’s got anything for you here.”
“C’mon, man, you look like you got metal to spare. Just one chit?”
“You’re better off without the stuff,” Hank shot back.
The kid opened his mouth to protest. He had one hand curled into a fist and looked about to take a swing at Hank. Before he could, Ian came out of the crowd, grabbed the guy by the shoulder, and pushed him away. “Find someplace else.”
“Midlevel whore,” the Icie spat out before melting away.
“Check your pockets,” Ian advised. He took Hank’s leash from Gabe’s loose grip. “And c’mon, we’re going in through the side door.”
He led them down an alley, around the side of the building. Gabe patted his pockets, but he didn’t have anything to steal. Abruptly he realized he should have asked Jeff for a loan. “I don’t have any money,” he blurted.
Hank shot him a grin. “We got it covered for tonight. S’better this way too, otherwise every Icer on the street would be begging for a chit.”
“Icer.” Gabe tried the word out. “I’ve never heard of that….”
“They only make the stuff down here. Mix of legal and illegal drugs from above.” Hank shook his head. “Nasty stuff.”
Ian rapped at the wall while they spoke. He waited a moment, and then slipped through the bricks as if they weren’t there. At Gabe’s gasp, Hank winked and followed. Gabe stepped through, his body prickling with an electric charge. Combo hologram and forceshield, he thought. Not bad.
Once inside, the bouncer—a tall woman with augmented limbs and a shaved head—nodded at him and then slapped a panel on the wall, probably shutting the open doorway. The bright metal tech looked out of place embedded in the old brick wall.
“Thank you, Shel,” Hank said.
She flicked his leash, hanging free now that Ian wasn’t holding it. “You be a good pet. There’s a table waiting for you in the loft.”
Gabe tried not to look like he was staring. It was hard to see much in the dim room, with multicolored lights cycling all along the walls and smoke rising from vents. He could make out a dance floor with too many half-naked bodies attempting to merge into one form. A bar took up the end of the room, with several bartenders delivering drinks. Only one of them had more than two arms.
“The good stuff is on the second level.” Hank led the way this time, to a spherical lift set up in the corner. They stepped on the platform and it rose, shifting through something that looked like white bubbles before stopping on the second floor.
The pounding of the music didn’t follow them. Up here the atmosphere of crazy Old Town club disappeared and it turned into a high-class restaurant, if what was on the menu were half-naked people kneeling at the feet of their masters or bound in cages along the walls. Gabe could barely make out the equipment up on the low stage and found he didn’t want to see.
“I’m not shocked,” he told Hank as he sat beside them at the corner table, set low with cushioned chairs all around. Fabric draped the walls, complementing the dark richness of the furnishings. A candle flickered on the table, and it was live flame instead of some substitute. This place seemed to echo the past, ignoring the metallic décor of the world above.
“That’s because we haven’t gotten on stage yet.”
Hank’s words went straight to his groin. Gabe hardened in his jeans and nearly leaped out of his seat. He hadn’t felt arousal in a very long time. It was one of the things the halo suppressed, kept under control. But now his body came to life, his thoughts of Rocco still fresh in his mind, missing his dead lover so much the pain nearly killed his erection.
He pictured the two men up on stage, unable to do otherwise after Hank spoke. Would Ian strip Hank? Bind him to the pillar there and make him count as he paddled his ass? The vision shifted, and Gabe saw himself up there. But the man behind him wasn’t Rocco.
It was Jeff.
“I think you broke him.” Ian signaled to someone off to the side, and a hovering servo bot approached the table with three tall glasses on the tray. “We’re not scheduled tonight. You can breathe, Gabe.”
“Funny.” He cleared his throat, unable to get his voice under control. Gabe squirmed, trying to find a comfortable way
to sit. “This is what you do? To survive down here?”
“Yes, we get paid for it.” Hank smirked from across the table. He’d taken a seat instead of kneeling, to Gabe’s surprise.
Ian snapped his fingers. “Be good or, schedule or not, I will have you over my knee.”
“That’s not an incentive to behave.”
If Gabe didn’t interrupt them now, he could tell they’d be at this all night. “I don’t understand. Did you move down just to do this?”
They exchanged looks, and Gabe imagined a million conversations passed between them in that moment. His chest hurt, as he remembered when that instant understanding had existed for him and Rocco.
“It’s complicated,” Hank said finally. “You know I couldn’t be like this up there.” He ran the tip of one finger along the edge of his collar. “They’d throw Ian in prison for reprogramming.”
“Nothing wrong with asking for what you want, boy,” Ian said in a low voice, touching Hank’s cheek with a gentle caress. “We don’t owe them anything anymore.”
Gabe knew he was only getting part of the story. He took the glass meant for him, sniffing at the liquid before taking a sip. The drink went down cold and smooth, cooling his overheated mouth.
“It’s just water.” Ian smiled at his actions. “We didn’t bring you here to get you drunk.”
Part of him wanted them to. It would be nice to simply give into the oblivion of inebriation and not have to think about the mess his life had become. But Gabe knew he’d rather have the memories than be the stoic thing he had become in Heaven’s service. It was as if he was finally sobering up, after being drunk on Metatron’s will for centuries.
A group of newcomers came off the spherical lift. They stood talking and laughing as they waited to be shown to a table. By now Gabe could identify them as upsiders, just as he knew the quiet couple to his right were downsiders. They flaunted their alterations—one girl had a pair of cat ears at the top of her head. The ears swiveled to follow the conversation of the group, clearly more than cosmetic models.
One of the women turned toward their table. Her face lit up, and she sauntered on over. “Well if it isn’t my favorite slummers.” Her red hair shimmered like the flame of their candle, and her eyes changed from violet to blue and back again.
“I prefer the term expatriate.” Hank winked at her before kicking at a chair. “How have you been, Alicia?”
She took the hint and dropped onto the chair. “Just peachy, love. Wondering when you are going to come home.”
Hank still smiled at her, but Gabe could see the way his eyes dimmed. “Told you, we’re down here to stay.”
Alicia looked over at Ian, her gaze brushing across Gabe quickly, but he just bet she was augmented enough to recall every detail about them both. “Right. Of course.” She signaled the waitress. Gabe expected another servo cart soon. Maybe later he could ask Hank where you learned the secret drink signs.
“Alicia, this is Gabe.” Hank tilted his head in Gabe’s direction. “Another slummer.”
Jeff had given him that nickname. Gabe had accepted it like he’d accepted so many different elements of his exile. Until he remembered his true name, he decided he’d much rather be Gabe than Gabriel 1089. It meant something to take a new name, instead of the one he’d been given.
“Oh?” She turned back toward Gabe and appraised him again. “What circle are you from?”
He almost blurted out the truth. But if he answered—the first circle—they’d know no human lived there, only angels. Gabe tried to guess where she lived, so he didn’t fuck up and get caught out if he said he lived near her. “The 360,” he answered, naming one of the poorer service districts in midlevel. She certainly didn’t seem to lack for wealth.
Alicia made a face. “You and Ian must be good friends, then.”
Oh, and there he’d gone and erred in the other direction.
“Contrary to popular belief, Alicia, I don’t know every single person on the 360.” Ian sat stiffly in his chair, his dark eyes all but glowering at her.
Before she could respond, Hank stood. “Oh look, Ian, there’s Mattie.” He waved at someone.
Gabe had to peer around Alicia to see where Hank gestured so desperately. A woman—tall, too thin, and wrapped completely from head to toe in black leather—smiled and walked toward them. The crowd parted as she moved, eyes appreciating the beauty in her face and bearing even though, Gabe guessed, she was a downsider. Something about her seemed familiar, and he frowned, unable to figure it out.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on your knees?” she teased, leaning forward to kiss Hank’s cheek.
“Show hasn’t started yet,” he replied, but color rose in his face.
Alicia pushed her chair back and stood just as the servo arrived with her drink—a deep purple concoction that smoked slightly in a heart-shaped glass. She didn’t drink from it, just held it in one hand as she turned to face Mattie and Hank. “Angel’s tits, Hank, don’t tell me you’re still cavorting with this wannabe.”
Gabe opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly. There was nothing he could say to make this any better. Alicia glared at Mattie, her eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a grimace. Mattie had her hands clenched into fists. Hank stood between them, but Gabe didn’t know how effective he was going to be.
“You’re the one who always wants us to move back, Alicia,” Hank said. “Don’t see why you have a problem with someone wanting to live on midlevel.”
Alicia laughed and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “It’s not going to work, you know. He doesn’t have any influence with the rest of his family. You’re still just spare meat.”
Mattie didn’t appear swayed at all by this threat. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Some of us try to get ahead on our own merits.”
“And that’s why you’re in Lick.” Alicia gestured with her drink, droplets scattering everywhere. “Using your merits to find a midleveler to whore yourself out to.”
“Not everyone shares your reasons for doing things,” Mattie said.
Alicia turned back toward Hank. “Talk to me when you come to your senses, Hank. I’ll be waiting.” She stalked away, her hair waving artfully behind her as if tousled by wind.
That left just the four of them to stare awkwardly at each other. Gabe cleared his throat. “Um. Hello. I’m Gabe.”
“Jeff’s boy.” She smiled at him.
“She’s Ronnie’s sister,” Ian explained.
Oh. No wonder she looked familiar. She had something of Ronnie in her face, especially when she smiled.
“Sorry about that.” Hank sat back down. “Didn’t mean to get you involved in an argument on your first night out.”
Gabe laughed. “Well, you can’t say it wasn’t interesting.” And perfect for distracting him from darker memories.
“Are you scening tonight, Mattie?” Ian lost that stiffness that had frozen him at Alicia’s appearance.
Mattie shook her head. “Although after that I could use a few rounds with a whip.” She clenched her hand and made a striking motion.
Her words caused Gabe’s cheeks to flush with heat. He pulled at the jacket he still wore. He hadn’t wanted to take it off, this extra layer between his one remaining wing and the world. But he could feel the sweat beading on his chest, and his shirt had a stranglehold on his neck. He gulped down the rest of his water in an attempt to cool down.
“Relax, Gabe, no one is volunteering you.” Hank grinned.
Ian leaned forward and took the end of the leash still dangling from Hank’s collar, winding it around his wrist. “Does that mean you’re volunteering, boy?”
The smile drained away, replaced by heavy-lidded eyes and a flush that went all the way down Hank’s mostly bare chest. “Yes, sir.”
Gabe pushed his chair away from the table, thinking things had gotten just a bit too kinky for him. If he could only get some air.
“A little too hot for you?” Mattie asked him.
Why d
id they make the ceiling so low? He needed to see the sky, get out from under the weight of metal and stone above him. “Maybe I should go outside.” Gabe stood. “I can get back in the side door?”
“I’ll come down and get you,” Mattie offered. “Fuck if those two will be wrapped up in anything but each other.”
He managed a smile before stumbling away from the table. As the room spun, he wondered if the memory block had completely dissolved or if he were about to pass out once again. Damn, he thought he was over all of that.
Gabe made his way down the lift, wincing as the loud pounding of the music pierced his head and made the dizziness worse. The bouncer didn’t blink as he pushed past her through the forceshield and out into the blessedly cool air.
It didn’t seem to help at all. At first he thought it was the crowds of people still thronging the streets. They seemed to close in on him. Gabe stumbled back down the side alleyway Ian had led them to before. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, and all he wanted to do was sink down onto the ground and fall into sleep.
A hand on his arm jolted him, or it would have had Gabe had any energy left to protest. He looked over and saw the same kid who’d asked him for money before. Gabe blinked as his vision blurred, bright points of light shimmering around the boy’s eyes.
“Bet you have metal now, pretty boy,” the kid said, pushing up the sleeve of Gabe’s jacket.
Drug patch, it had to be. The druggie must have slapped it on him when he grabbed Gabe’s sleeve outside the club. How the fuck could he have been so stupid?
“No money,” he tried to say, but his words caught on his swollen tongue. Gabe tried to push the little thief away, but his arms wouldn’t work either.
He heard the other voices as if from a distance. “Get him in the van.”
“Move, move.”
Gabe tried to struggle, his limbs flailing as his body refused to obey his commands. Get the patch off, and his metabolism would take care of the drugs. But his fingers curled into knots. There were four of them, bodies that blurred and rippled in his tainted vision as they dragged him into a dark vehicle.
