At was one of the two energies that made up everything in the universe. All of space and time was held together by At and its counterpart, what I’d dubbed anti-At. The closest human science has come to capturing the truth of things is through particle physics, with matter and antimatter. That’s the closest humans have come to understanding the universe—and it’s not very close at all.
For thousands of years, my people were gifted with the ability to leave our bodies and enter a higher plane of existence, one where those primal forces are visible as a swirling, rainbow miasma of the fabric of time and space. There, we’d been able to view almost any time, any place, from that other plane in what we’d called echoes. The echoes were closed to us now, had been for over three years, ever since the new gods abandoned us.
Nik had the unique innate ability to pull one of those otherworldly forces, At, into our physical plane of existence, courtesy of his sheut, his internal, magical power source. He was the only person alive who could do it, and there was just one person in the world who could do the same with anti-At—Mari, my old partner in crime—though her abilities were far more limited. And way more dangerous. A single touch of obsidian-like anti-At could unmake a Nejeret from the ba out, erasing their poor, dwindling soul from the timeline completely until it was as though they’d never existed at all.
At, however, was different. Touching it wouldn’t harm a person, and Nik’s control over it was mind-blowing. He could make virtually anything out of the otherworldly material, including the sword stashed away upstairs in my closet with the rest of my forgotten assassin’s gear. He could create whole buildings out of At or restrain someone in seemingly living vines of At or turn an entire person into At, either to preserve or punish. Apparently he could make tattoo ink, as well.
“It’s the only way I’ve found to make a permanent tattoo,” he explained. “For us, I mean.”
I licked my lips. “Would you make me some of that ink?”
“Yeah, sure, Kitty Kat.” He extended his arm over his head in preparation for me to begin working. “Whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.”
7
The Ouroboros corporate headquarters were housed in the tallest building in Seattle, the Columbia Center. The skyscraper was intimidating for more than its height—it was a dark giant, an immense structure with an exterior as black and reflective as fresh-cut obsidian that took up an entire city block. The ground floor consisted of an expansive and varied food court, the second by a mall’s worth of shops. I may have stopped at the coffee shop near the entrance for a couple of donuts—a maple bar and an old fashioned—and a black coffee on my way in. Aaaaand I may have scarfed down both pastries by the time the escalator carried me up to the second floor, the lowest level reached by the elevator.
There was a sign at the top of the escalator advertising the Ouroboros open house, proclaiming that it was today, on the sixtieth floor. And would you look at that—they hope to see me there! So friendly, these evil, kidnapping, child-torturing corporate scientists . . .
I rode the elevator up with a handful of people of various ages. A man and a woman in their thirties stepped off on floor eighteen, chatting about people in their office, and an older, dignified woman in a tailored skirt suit left on floor forty-one, leaving me with a middle-aged man and a younger couple. We all rode to the sixtieth floor.
When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, I hung back, scoping out the scene. A couple of greeters waited a dozen or so steps out of the elevator. Both were attractive men in the prime of youth, wearing identical gray slacks and navy blue button-down shirts. Nice subliminal advertising, these handsome, youthful fellas. They latched onto my elevator companions, leaving me to slink out unnoticed.
I’d like to point out that I even dressed for the occasion. I was wearing my nicest jeans—dark and totally hole-free—the one and only turtleneck I owned, and a charcoal-gray hooded trench coat, tied at the waist. I’d swapped out my usual combat boots for some black leather riding-style boots, and I’d even removed my lip piercings. By the time I returned home, the damn holes will probably have closed up already, which was a pain in the ass. I looked downright respectable . . . at least, to these kinds of people. But I felt ridiculous. Anybody from the shop would’ve spit out their coffee if they’d seen me like this. Which was precisely why I’d slipped out the back door.
The shimmering tip of my brand-new tattoo—an image of the goddess Isis very similar to the one on Nik’s neck, with the exception that this goddess bore a striking resemblance to my mom—peeked out from the end of my sleeve onto the back of my hand. All other tattoo ideas had gone out the window as soon as I’d seen the At ink piece on Nik’s back. I tugged at my sleeve as I walked across the lobby, hoping nobody noticed. It didn’t really strike me as the tattoo kind of place.
“Miss!” someone called after me. “Excuse me!” Fast footsteps carried the voice closer, and a third young man dressed just like the other greeters in gray slacks and a blue button-down shirt jogged my way. “Are you here for the open house?”
“Yes,” I said, splashing on a broad smile and airhead eyes. I blinked several times and pretended to scan my surroundings. “Am I going the wrong way?”
“No, but you do have to check in.” His brow furrowed. “Did you register online?”
“Of course I did,” I said, touching my fingertips to his forearm and meeting his eyes. “I can follow instructions . . . when I want to.” I gave him a wink. Too much?
“Great!” He pulled a sleek little smartphone from his pocket and traced a circle on the screen. “Name?” he asked, looking at me.
“Gen,” I said. “Genevieve Dubois. I just registered last night—it was sort of last minute.” I put on a worried expression. “I hope that’s okay . . .”
“Yep,” he said cheerily. “I see your registration right here.” He held his arm out, telling me to head toward the single open door on the left side of the lobby, where a table was set up with name badges and a fanned-out stack of navy blue folders with the tail-eating snake emblazoned on the front in metallic silver. Two women manned the table, one in the increasingly familiar dark gray and blue—I was sensing a color scheme—the other wearing a smart black pencil skirt and a cream blouse.
“Candace will finish checking you in,” my greeter said, handing me off to the uniformed woman. “And lucky you, Ms. Dubois, you can meet one of the Amrita leads, Dr. Marie Jones.”
I glanced at the non-uniformed woman and froze. She was no “Marie Jones”; her name was Mari. She was my Mari—my ex-partner in assassinating the Senate’s enemies. The same one whose name had been counted among the missing Nejerets. Things hadn’t ended well between us, what with her calling me a coward the last time I’d seen her and me flipping her the bird. But we’d had some good times . . . and some dark times. Regardless of our past, or maybe because of it, I was genuinely glad to see her. At least I now knew that she wasn’t one of the victims.
Then, dread sprouted in my belly. If she wasn’t one of the victims, why was she here?
“Ms. Dubois,” Mari said, extending her hand. She looked awesome. Her sleek, short inverted bob offset her Japanese features beautifully, and her brilliant jade-green eyes had never been more striking. “A pleasure to meet you.” She grinned woodenly. “What brings you to our open house today? You couldn’t be a day over eighteen.”
I shook her hand, narrowing my eyes minutely. What game was she playing? “Twenty-five, actually. And it’s never too early to start planning for the future, at least that’s what my mom’s best friend Mei always said.” Mei was a Senate member and the leader of her own clan, occupying the Great Plains territory. But more importantly, she was Mari’s adoptive mother.
Mari’s cheek twitched. “How fascinating. Please”—she gestured for me to step off to the side with her—“chat with me for a moment. Yours is a demographic we’ve yet to really reach, and I’d love to get your input on a few ideas.”
I matched her, woo
den grin for wooden grin. “Love to.”
Mari led me to a cluster of chairs in a corner of the lobby about as far as we could get from the check-in table and the elevator. “Just keep smiling pleasantly,” she said through clenched teeth as she smoothed down the back of her skirt and sat.
I did as requested, sitting in the chair beside hers and angling my knees her way. “What the fuck are you doing here, Mars?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Her jade eyes flashed with irritation. “I should be the one asking you that. Did the Senate send you?”
I shook my head, stupid smile plastered in place. “Nik showed up and told me that a bunch of Nejerets are missing. It’s looking like this place—you guys—are involved. But no, the Senate didn’t send me.” I laughed under my breath. “I’m sure the Senators would shit their collective pants if they knew I was here.”
Mari leaned in a little. “Nik’s back? I thought nobody had seen or heard from him for years.”
“They hadn’t,” I said, not bothering to tell her that he’d been in contact with his mom. “Mari, what are you doing here?”
“The Senate sent me in undercover about six months ago because they thought the corporation’s research was suspicious. I was just supposed to blend in . . . to monitor. But a couple months ago, when I heard about some of our people going missing, I started to actively investigate.”
It was my turn to lean in, elbows on my knees. “What did you find? Do you know where Dom is? Is he still alive?”
Mari’s eyes widened, her smile faltering. “Dom’s missing, too?” She shook her head, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
“You didn’t know?”
“Smile,” she reminded me. “And no, I had no clue about Dom. The most I’ve been able to find out is that there’s some sort of a shipment that goes out every couple nights—one that’s off the books. It might have something to do with all of this, but . . .” She shrugged. “It’s weak, at best. I tell you what—one of those shipments is going out tonight. Why don’t I text you the address and you and Nik can check it out? I’ll snoop around here to see what else I can find out and contact you in the morning.”
I nodded absently, chewing on my lip where my piercing had been. It itched like crazy. It was already closing up.
Mari glanced around, then reached out to give my knee a squeeze. “We’ll find him, Kat. I promise.”
8
After my mom was killed, I went into a bit of a tailspin. It’s a little embarrassing, really, but I was devastated, naïve, and pissed off—and in combination, those three things created a monster. I became a rash, unstable creature driven by a single thing: vengeance. It was my air and water and food. It was the blood pumping through my veins and the dreams disturbing my sleep. It was my everything.
And then Dom came in and gave me focus. He taught me discipline and how to fight. He gave me the skills and tools I needed to make vengeance a reality.
And then there was Nik, helping me understand the enemy. Helping me plan. Driving me ever onward and cautioning me when I exhibited too much recklessness. Until, one day, he pushed a few too many buttons, and I snapped. I almost died that day. On Mari’s anti-At blade.
Maybe I’d still bear a closer resemblance to the Kat I used to be—the Kat who still had a mother and hopes for the future and a sparkle in her eye—if not for Dom and Nik and Mari. Maybe, but I also never would’ve avenged my mom. I didn’t regret leaving the girl I used to be behind one bit. My heart was cold, my memory of the taste of vengeance crisp and clear. It had been delicious. Until it soured. Until those the Senate had me hunting no longer bore any resemblance to those responsible for my mother’s death. Until it became bitter ash on my tongue.
But by then it was too late. By then, the girl I’d been was dead, a hard, empty shell left in her place.
Maybe that was why I felt such excitement about having seen Mari. She’d known me way back when. It was by Mari’s side that I’d spent sixteen years hunting down those even remotely responsible for my mother’s death. She’d seen the transformation. Hell, she’d been a part of the transformation. In a way, she reminded me of who I used to be. And I couldn’t ignore the sense of grief I felt when thinking of that sad, lost girl.
I pulled my phone from my coat pocket as soon as I was out of the elevator and called the shop, figuring Nik was still lurking around. AKA covering for me. I was right. Kimi answered, but she retrieved Nik as soon as I asked for him. Good thing, because I didn’t have his number, and I was going to explode if I didn’t share what had just happened with someone.
“Hey, Kat—”
“You’re never going to believe who I just saw,” I told him.
“Who?” he asked. “And where are you? It’s loud as fuck on your end.”
“Oh . . .” I glanced around me, taking in the hustle and bustle of business professionals sneaking in an early lunch. There were so many of them, I doubted there were many people left up in their offices. “I’m in a food court,” I told Nik. “Sorry. Hang on . . .” I weaved my way through the crowd of lunch-goers and made it to the glass doors to Fourth Avenue a good thirty seconds later.
I pushed through the rightmost door, only to be greeted by a blast of cold air and a crowd of people huddling on the covered stairs to stay out of the pouring rain. “Excuse me,” I mumbled to one woman.
She shifted an inch. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite that thin.
“Excuse me,” I repeated.
A few glances were cast my way, but nobody really put any effort into moving.
So I did what any reasonable person would do—I raised my voice and broke out the big-kid words. “Oh for fuck’s sake, move, people!”
I received shocked looks and grumbles from the crowd this time. But hey—they made a path that was just my size. What peaches.
I pulled up my hood and hunched my shoulders as I trudged up to the bus stop at the next block. I’d have taken my bike, but the outfit didn’t really work on a motorcycle, especially not if I wanted to keep it looking nice. Not that that mattered now. My stupid “nice” boots had shitty traction on the wet cement, and I longed for my heavy-treaded combat boots.
“Sorry,” I told Nik, again. I’d been holding the phone against my lapel when I’d shouted, but Nejeret ears were sensitive. “Anyway, I was at this open house thing at Ouroboros—that’s the pharmaceutical company that—”
“I know who they are, Kat; I’m not a moron. Why were you there?”
I stopped walking, pressed my lips together, and inhaled and exhaled deeply. There was no reason for him to get all snippy with me just because I wasn’t a slave to the idiot box like everybody else. “They’re connected to all this somehow,” I finally admitted.
Nik was quiet for a few seconds. “You knew they were connected to the disappearances and you went there anyway?”
My eyes bugged out. Sometimes he was a moron, whatever he said. “Why else would I go there?” I gave a derisive snort and continued up the hill. “It’s not like I need to drink from the fountain of youth.” Though a sip from the fountain of unyouth might do the trick. Especially if it would wrangle my pesky lingering teenage hormones. They could be a real bitch sometimes.
“Kat—”
“Mari was there,” I said, flinging out the one thing that might waylay him from laying into me for being reckless, then held my breath.
“What?”
“Yeah, she’s working for them. But really, she’s undercover for the Senate. Did you know?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “But then, I haven’t really been keeping up with things . . .”
“Right, well . . . that’s crazy, right?” I reached the street corner at the top of the hill. “She’s going to do some digging and see what she can find out about Dom. And—” I caught myself before I let it spill about the fishy shipment. I could check it out without him. No need to put anyone else in danger. Besides, I worked better on my own. Let’s just say I have trust issues. I don’t trust other
s not to do stupid shit and get themselves killed—like my mom—and I don’t trust myself not to stop them.
“And what?” Nik asked.
“And . . . it was good to see her.”
“Jesus, Kat.” Disappointment was a loud, clear bell tolling in his voice.
“What?” I stopped some ways from the crowded bus stop and ducked under the ledge of another skyscraper.
“What the fuck were you thinking, going there alone—and without even letting me know?”
I reared back as though he’d slapped me. “Excuse me?” Since when was he my self-appointed keeper?
“They’re the ones taking people—taking us—and you walked right into their house. They caught Dom, for fuck’s sake. Dom. You think you’re better than him? Really?”
“No, I just—”
“Then get your head out of your ass. A reckless move like that’s what almost killed you last time.” I shook my head as he spoke. How dare he? “This time, I might not be around to—”
“You know what,” I cut in, voice raised. A few people turned their heads my way. I gave them the finger. “You can just fuck off, Nik. Just fuck the fuck off. Just walk away. Just disappear.” I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at his name. “That’s what you’re best at,” I said and hung up, fuming.
My phone started vibrating with an incoming call almost immediately. It was Nik. I rejected it. I did it twice more before I turned the damn thing on silent and stuffed it back into my pocket, grumbling “Asshole” under my breath.
***
I strolled into the East Precinct station with a chip on my shoulder and a bone to pick. I couldn’t go back to the shop until I’d cooled off, but I also couldn’t stand being unproductive. I marched straight to the unmanned reception window and dinged the little bell with equal parts purpose and ferocity. And just kept on dinging. It was their own damn fault for putting the thing out in the open in the first place.
Ink Witch (Kat Dubois Chronicles Book 1) Page 6
