Beneath a Holo-Sky (Poison World Book 1)

by Lyn Forester

  "You're annoying." Her cool tone matches her narrowed eyes.

  "I'm guessing twice so far."

  She gives him a sidelong glance.

  He reaches out to nudge her again, and she sidesteps before coming back to walk next to him.

  "He hasn't spat it out yet," she admitted at last.

  Drake coughs into his hand.

  "Stop laughing," she growls at him, but he hears the hint of a smile in her voice.

  ~

  They step out of the Halls of Justice into Level 7's Central Plaza. Drake pauses on the top step to take in the organized chaos. People walk shoulder to shoulder around the plaza, pushing one another along, with little room for personal space. Portal conductors bark at passengers to keep a move on as they stumble onto the arrival pads in plumes of frost. This must be the lunch rush. People in business suits, guard uniforms, and casual wear jostle around together.

  The scent of fried meat makes his mouth water. He rubs his stomach and glances around to pinpoint the source. So many shops, most with lines twenty or more deep. Any one of them can be the source of the delicious aroma.

  "Hey, let's get something to eat."

  Reagen doesn't answer, and he swivels around to find her gone from his side. Lucky him, her inky black hair stands out against the silver wall of the Halls of Justice, where she leans next to the entrance. A man in a business suit bumps his shoulder, and Drake realizes he's in the way. Pedestrians, forced to walk around him, shoot irritated glances his way.

  He makes his way over to her, dodging a chubby dude in a cheap, green suit who puffs his way up the steps. She gazes out over the crowd and pats the pocket on her pant leg.

  He tries to follow her line of sight to see if she's searching for a short line, too. But she seems fixated on a group of school-age kids bumping shoulders and being a nuisance around the vendor carts set up around the plaza's perimeter.

  Boring.

  His stomach rumbles. "Hey, let's get lunch."

  A wrapper crinkles, and Drake turns back to Reagen. She pauses, an unwrapped energy bar poised at her mouth. She glances back over the crowd and takes a bite.

  "Hey, I'm hungry, too!" Another whiff of hot grease taunts him.

  She frowns before reaching into her pocket and pulling out another bar. Without looking, she extends it in his direction.

  "Are you serious?" He reaches for the bar and has to tug it from her fingers. Despite the offer, she doesn't want to let it go. He flips it over to read the label. Bell-E Up, meal-in-one, Cherry Flavored.

  Yep, she's serious.

  "This isn't real food." His hand engulfs the tiny bar. "It's not even a snack."

  "I'm not giving you another one." She stuffs the last of her bar in her mouth, epically unmoved by his plight.

  "I want real food." He slips the bar into his pocket and ignores her look of indignation. No take backs here. He might get peckish later.

  She sighs with irritation. "I've heard the Blue Seal has great fried rat."

  A hand lifts to point at a little shop to the left of the stairs, crammed into the alley between the Halls of Justice and the Trade Center. Narrow and tall, the two stories above the main floor open to the plaza and display packed tables.

  "You hear that from Kyle?" He heads down the steps, his mouth already salivating.

  "Yeah, Blue Guard Rinehart mentioned it."

  "How fast did you sidestep that one?" A window next to the door serves takeout. Only about twelve people form a line so far, most in blue guard uniform.

  "He was with his partner. It wasn't an invitation." She turns her back on the line to gaze back over the crowd.

  "Do you think they have mesuki?" Drake squints at the sign, but can't see it through the people ahead of them.

  "Who cares?" Reagen swivels to put her back toward him. "It's just a bigger rat. It all tastes the same."

  "Mesuki has a nutty flavor. Completely different."

  "What type of nut?"

  "I don't know." The line moves forward. "Just nutty."

  "Rodent is rodent." She shrugs, distracted.

  "Excuse me if I don't put credit in your opinion of food."

  Drake peers over her shoulder. She's watching the group of kids again. They've wandered over to an open stall next to the lines for the central lifts. Five of them, in their early teens. At this time of day, they're skipping class.

  Still boring.

  He glances back at Reagen to find her expression bland. Whatever thoughts she has, she's keeping them to herself. She doesn't strike him as the sort to be sentimental about kids, but it's a touchy subject. Some halfbreeds get depressed about being unable to have children. Whatever genetic compatibility halions and humans have ends at their offspring. Halfbreeds are considered sterile since they’re unable to carry fetuses past the first month.

  Personally, he thinks it makes casual sex easier.

  The menu board becomes visible as a group of three blue guards take their paper cups from the window and move off. They had fried mesuki. It's double the cost of the rat, but completely worth it.

  Above the board, a panel of the building is fitted with a piece of plas-glass wired to play news feeds. The same platinum-haired woman from yesterday gazes down at them. Her mouth moves, eyebrows furrowed with concern that looks too practiced to be real. The noise of the plaza drowns out the audio, but a black strip at the bottom spells out the story.

  "In breaking news, Howard J. Laundreman was arrested at Half-Light today on charges of the illegal sale of food tickets. This comes as a shock to his supporters, many of who hoped to see Mr. Laundreman run for Council at the next turn. Mrs. Laundreman has vacated their Level 11 villa in favor of her family home on Level 10 and cannot be reached for comment."

  It loops, and Drake reads it again before elbowing his partner. "You know anything about this?"

  Reagen glances back at him in confusion and turns around. She follows his pointed finger up to the screen and frowns. "I haven't tried the apple flavor yet."

  Drake looks back at the screen. The smiling GoGoNow happy face bounces across the screen, and his memory supplies the jingle.

  Shit, he just got that out of his head.

  It ends, and the news comes back, the same story on repeat. "No, do you know anything about that."

  Reagen stares at the screen for a moment and shrugs.

  "I was paid to find an affair." She rubs her arm, twitchy, before she turns back to watch the crowded plaza. "He wasn't very good at hiding his affair. The Council probably found it when they vetted him for future membership."

  Drake stares at her, but she doesn't turn back around. Her posture's relaxed, hands loose at her sides. What she said is reasonable and ruins Mr. Black's plans for Mr. Laundreman.

  Was there a clause in the marriage contract against all public scandal, and an affair was just the easiest to prove? Black Corporation needs to check it out, but he doubts they'll find anything that leads back to Reagen.

  She might not be as mercenary as her personnel file reads.

  The line clears in front of him, and Drake steps up to the window to order his food, tapping his datband to log the fund transfer. The guy behind the counter waits for the green light to notify him the transfer went through before he uses a paper funnel to scoop up the golden brown cubes of meat.

  They burn Drake's fingers through the thin, waxed material as he takes it from the man. He holds it up to his nose to inhale hot grease, spices, and cooked meat. He moves out of the way and pops a piece into his mouth, not caring when it raises blisters on the roof of his mouth.

  Meaty, fibrous, with just a hint of nut flavor.

  "How can you choose Bell-E Up bars when you can eat this delicious food?" He shakes the funnel in her direction.

  Her gaze flicks to the steaming meat under her nose and her lip twitches. "You're disgusting."

  "Where to next, boss?" He pops another piece into his mouth.

  A SHOW AT THE PLAZA

  Usually I like cro
wds. They’re easy to disappear into. But this one pings my radar and I can't figure out why. Drake's distracting. I'm not used to someone yammering in my ear, invading my space, disrupting my senses.

  I think it's the kids.

  They don't seem like bad kids, but they should be in school. Instead, they flaunt themselves in front of the Peace Keepers' main base. If caught, they'll receive red marks in their public files. Three negative marks and their families will be fined for public misdemeanors.

  One of the bigger boys jostles the smallest kid into a vendor's cart. In the fall, he slides an object off the shelf and into his pocket.

  Thieves. With zero skill.

  Well dressed in clean clothes, they don't appear malnourished. One of them can even be called chubby. There's no obvious reason for them to steal. During Star-Light, they might try to sneak into the casino or one of the adult night clubs. Normal behavior for young risk-takers.

  But during the busiest time of day, they don't belong.

  "Where to next, boss?"

  There's that annoying distraction again.

  Drake: Disrupts, Ruins, and Kills Enjoyment.

  "What time do the aphremore dens open?" I scan the crowd again to suss out another reason for my unease.

  "They never close." He sounds surprised I asked, like I should already know the answer.

  Aphremore boosts humans' senses and makes them think quicker. See, hear, and taste better. It's marketed as a halion-like experience. One hit lets humans feel for an hour what halions take for granted every day. An addicting experience. Of course they’re always open.

  I’m distracted. ”What time do the managers get in?"

  The kids finally draw the blue guards' attention. Until now, the guards ignored them in favor of their lunches, but such shoddy theft can't go unpunished.

  "Not until Half-Light tonight." Drake peers up at the holo-sky. Today, fluffy clouds drift across a vibrant blue background. It becomes monotonous, all the sunshine. Forty more days until the weather crafters switch to Fall-Cycle. "We have at least four hours."

  Three guards stride toward the kids, who see them and make a run for it. More guards join the pursuit.

  They draw attention as the crowd stops to watch the chase.

  A group of high-class people enters the plaza from one of the more expensive lodgings. The two women of the group wear form-hugging gowns, while their male escorts sport gray suits with matching ties. Their trajectory puts them in alignment with Three Screens, an upscale playhouse that offers all forms of amusement.

  They stop to watch the chase with everyone else.

  To the left, a dark-haired man strolls in the group's direction, uninterested in the havoc the kids cause. He passes through the group, between the two women, and continues on his way.

  A moment later, the kids are caught and receive their red marks. Everything goes back to normal as the performance ends. I turn to Drake and smile. That was a well-played heist.

  Masterful even.

  He gazes at me in confusion. Such a buzzkill. I huff out an irritated breath. "We should go over the coroner's reports on the other bodies while we wait."

  "Carmichael said he hadn't gotten to them yet." Drake crumbles the paper funnel in his hands, lips glossy with grease.

  I decide not to tell him.

  "He wanted you out of his lab. They're already on my palm-port." I used some hacking to obtain them, but I'm not telling him that either.

  I'm awesome. The quicker he realizes that, the better.

  He glares at me, and I see the wheels turning in his brain. He's trying to accept how much he messed up in the freezer. I hope he uses this as a learning experience. Be nice to people with information you want.

  If that fails, get it anyway.

  "Fine." He runs a hand through his blond hair so that it settles into a sexy, rumpled look. "Let's go back to your place."

  "Fuck no." An instinctive response, but I don't want him stinking up my place any more than he already has.

  "We can use my place, but it's on Level 9." He gives a knowing smirk. I hate how he knows he ruffled me this morning. "We'll need to take the lift and two portals to get there."

  "Your notes said you thought a couple dens on Level 4 should be looked into first." I run the calculations in my head. "It'll waste two hours going to your place."

  "How do you know what my notes said?" His eyes narrow with suspicion.

  He's too slow.

  "Because I'm awesome," I inform him, because he obviously needs it spelled out.

  Like I don't know about the anal list he wrote up with his point-by-point plan on how to deal with the investigation. It must have pissed him off when Mr. Black gave me lead on the case. I can admit to myself the list was good. He’d already completed a lot of what I had planned to investigate last night. Made my night less stressful.

  But really, freaking, little check boxes.

  "Then where do you want to go?" He refuses to acknowledge my awesomeness. He'll get there.

  I want to go home. All my gadgets are there, and it's where I do my best thinking. My desk-port is light-years faster than my palm-port.

  Fingers tapping against my thigh, I search for another place that can work better. Zero options come to mind. I need to move past this morning. We're partners for now.

  He already touched my stuff.

  "We'll go back to my place." The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. "And wipe your mouth. I don't want rat grease on my couch."

  ~

  We take the stairs up to my floor, and Drake doesn't complain or gasp for breath even once. I guess that's a good thing. His muscles aren't just to look pretty. I was a little worried after his failed ambush this morning. Next time, we'll run up the stairs.

  The door onto floor twelve squeaks when I open it. It might be the first unique feature in Blue Horizons. It'll be fixed by tomorrow.

  "Hey, baby, how about you make me dinner tonight?"

  I stop my hand from fisting. Hall Lurker's back, but I'm not his target this time. He’s cornered my other neighbor against her door. Groceries fill her arms, and he blocks her palm scanner with his sweaty body. The pit stains seem more yellow, and it's unlikely he’s showered since this morning. With his gut sucked in, he does a good job of looming over the tiny human.

  Her strawberry-blonde hair curls around her face and makes the thick, black rims of her glasses stand out. In a nice blouse and knee-length skirt, she looks dressed up for the day. Even her shoes are polished to a mirror black finish. Too early for a date, maybe she has a job interview. A quiet neighbor who keeps to herself, I'll be annoyed if she moves because of this asshole.

  She shakes a little, too timid. She can't be over five feet tall. Humans shouldn't come that small in adult form. It can't be good for their species. I'll set the Hall Lurker up for deportation. He's interfering with my life.

  I step around the two, annoyed at the deviation from my thirty-three steps to home. Too much people time today, with Drake, the unwanted shadow, hugging my heels all morning.

  She tries to catch my eye, ask for help. I avoid her gaze, unsure I want to get involved right now. So far, Hall Lurker has been annoying but harmless. She needs to fight her own battles. I won’t be here every time.

  Drake bumps into the guy's shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble back a step.

  "Sorry, man." Drake takes his shoulder, a pretense to make sure he's okay, while backing him up another step.

  The woman shoves her palm against the gel pad next to her door and flees inside. Hearts appear in her eyes as she ogles Drake from safety.

  She better not bring us cookies later.

  Hall Lurker shoves away from Drake and shakes his ruffled shirt back into place. The gut comes back, now that his prey has escaped.

  "Watch where you're going!" he snaps, face red with anger. But Drake towers over him by a head, and he's smart enough to realize Drake can kick his ass. He spins on his heel and jumps to find me still in the hall.r />
  The gut disappears again.

  "Hey, baby." He creeps closer, chest puffed out like some kind of mating call. "You fix that lock yet? Or do you need a man to do it?"

  I'll add some jail time before his deportation. It shouldn’t be too hard. He looks like someone who buys illegal skin trade vids. Pleasant smile in place, I lean toward him. "I can squish you."

  "Fucking freaks," he mumbles and shuffles his way back to his unit. Slippers cover his feet. He rushed out when he saw my neighbor.

  "That a common problem?" Drake shoves his hands in his pockets as he scowls at the Hall Lurker's door. The glint in his eye promises a more permanent solution than my deportation plans.

  "It won't be for long." I walk toward my living unit.

  I push my fingers into the palm scanner next to my door. Feeling for the little nubs under the surface, I press them in sequence.

  Green light.

  My door swishes open. I glance over my shoulder at Drake who still glares down the hall. "Get my door fixed."

  "Can't the building manager do that?" He glances down at the floor with a hint of embarrassment. He should be full-on mortified at the shoddy job. His people need to be trained better.

  "You broke it, you fix it." I leave the door open and walk inside. It doesn't look like we scuffled here earlier. Everything is in its place.

  But the air feels different. Displaced. I tamp down the twitchiness as Drake comes inside and the door swishes closed. I'm okay with this invasion. Deep breath.

  In, in, in. Out, out, out.

  Blood pounds in my ears, a red tide to block out reason. I want to kill him.

  "You all right?" Drake steps around me and plops down on the couch. He looks comfortable.

  Red bleeds into my vision.

  Get a grip, me. I pull in another deep breath. This is nothing. No need to go to my cave, visit my lake. I can deal with this.

  "You got anything to drink?" Drake peers around, as if he hasn't already snooped all over my place. His gaze travels to everywhere except where I stand, avoiding eye contact.