As I made my way deeper into the Tent District, a hand-painted sign caught my eye. “Hey, they have rent-a-showers here!” I said, my voice hushed but excited.
“I hardly think a space so densely packed with Nejerets with questionable intentions is the wisest place to make yourself vulnerable by disrobing.”
I frowned, excitement deflating. “Yeah . . . you’re probably right.”
“You could always rent a motel room.”
“Maybe,” I said. We’d had this chat a dozen times before, but the idea of a skeezy motel clerk knowing I was there made me uneasy. I wasn’t willing to let my guard down anywhere I might be vulnerable. “Or we could head to a gym after this. They have shower stalls.”
“Truly, little sister, is personal hygiene really our biggest concern at present?”
I snorted. “Says the guy who doesn’t have a body to keep clean.”
It was a little crazy, having gone from not talking to Dom for over three years to having him constantly buzzing in my ear, my own personal angel on my shoulder. Dealing with his constant companionship was a bit of an adjustment, but nearly losing him made me appreciate what otherwise might have annoyed me. I was just glad he was still in my life, and I was as determined as ever to find a way to bring him all the way back to the land of the living.
“So what’s this Dorman guy’s deal, anyway?” I asked, angling my face downward but watching my surroundings through my lashes. I knew the Nejeret in charge of this place was several centuries old and that he’d been born in Virginia around the time of the American Revolution. I knew he was of Heru’s line, a great-great-great-descendant to some nth degree. But I knew next to nothing about him, about the kind of man he was. I had no clue how I might get through to him, regardless of what bridges had been burned between him and Heru in the past.
“His deal?”
“Yeah. Like, is he an asshole? Does he have any triggers? Is he gullible? Is he cold like Heru?”
Dom laughed softly, a hushed, dry sound. “Dorman is nothing like Heru. He’s a quick-witted, good-natured man with a kind heart and a friendly sense of humor, and he has no taste for violence or killing, though he’s more than capable of taking care of himself when need be.”
I frowned. “He sounds like a pretty stand-up guy.”
“Indeed he is.”
“Which makes me oh so curious about what happened between him and Heru. Must’ve been one hell of a falling out.”
“Indeed it was,” Dom said in his patented that’s-all-I’m-going-to-say-about-that tone.
“Hmm . . .” I strolled the rest of the way in silence, thoughts tumbling around in my head. I hardly considered myself the best choice for this kind of mission, but I knew as well as anyone that we had to play the cards we were dealt. After all, I’m kind of a big deal in the tarot card world. And by tarot card world I mean Seattle’s tarot card world. Capitol Hill, specifically. That’s pretty much the only place where anyone knows about me and my fortune-telling prowess. My skill as a tattoo artist, however—that draws in clients from all over the country.
Some fifteen minutes later, I closed in on the enormous hangars at the heart of the district and was surprised to find a crowd of Nejerets watching my approach. They fanned out behind a smallish man wearing jeans, brown leather work boots, and a navy blue raincoat, the hood pulled down to reveal a Mariners baseball cap. Like all Nejerets, he appeared to be in the prime of his life, both youthful and ageless. Well, all Nejerets who aren’t me; I’ll look eighteen until the day I die.
“That’s Dorman,” Dom said.
I removed my right hand from my pocket to zip up the sweatshirt under my coat a few more inches, concealing Dom. He would still be able to hear what was going on around us, he just wouldn’t be able to see anything. It was unfortunate, losing a second set of eyes, but it had to be done. He was the ace up my sleeve. Or down my shirt, in his case. But still, he was my secret weapon. Secret being the key word.
I nodded to Dorman as I approached.
He took a few steps toward me, his hand extended, a tentative smile curving his lips and rounding the apples of his cheeks. At first glance, he seemed a jolly fellow. Warm and welcoming, too. I glanced around, fearing that I was being punked. Practical jokes aren’t really my thing. Like, at all. My ex-partner-in-sanctioned-crime Mari tried pulling one once, back during our days as the Senate’s dynamic assassinating duo, and she’d ended up with a face full of salt water and spit and a pretty decent shiner. She’d only tried once.
“You’re Dorman, I take it?” I said, shaking the Nejeret’s proffered hand.
He nodded. “And you’re Katarina Dubois.” His eyebrows danced over his kind, hazel eyes, and his grin widened. He had the accent and charm of a country gentleman, and there was something familiar about him. “The Ink Witch.” He released my hand.
I pressed my lips together, none too pleased. I’d come to embrace the nickname, but I wanted to know how Dorman knew it: from my work as a finder of lost people, or from the night I burned the Ouroboros scientist who’d torn Dom’s soul—his ba—out of his body, leading to my brother’s eventual death?
“I wondered how long it would take you to venture into our humble abode,” Dorman said. As he spoke, the sense of familiarity increased.
“Have we met before?” I asked, brows drawing together.
Dorman blinked, his smile amping back up to full wattage. “Once,” he said. “A couple decades ago.”
My eyes rounded. “You were the one in the old tent city—you told me where to find Mari.”
He placed his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. “And you nearly got yourself killed. I warned you she could take care of herself.”
I felt a wry smile twist my lips, and I shook my head. “Fair enough.” I’d liked him then on impulse, and I felt the same thing now. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen or heard from Mari? Or that you know how to get ahold of her?” I asked, hope high but expectations low. She would make a powerful ally in Heru’s war, if I could track her down. It was a big if, especially considering she’d vanished with her mother, Mei, a Nejeret with a gifted sheut that gave her the power to teleport, among other things.
“No, I can’t say as I have seen her, nor that I would know how to reach her,” Dorman said, disappointing me despite my low expectations.
“Pity.” I glanced to the crowd of Nejerets beyond him, who were watching and listening intently. What thoughts spun around in their minds? How much did they know? Where would their allegiance fall? “Have you heard about what’s going on”—I pointed up and to the side with my chin, indicating the world outside these fences—“out there?”
Dorman’s expression sobered. “I’ve heard whispers . . . and shouts.” He stared off into the distance for a moment, but his hazel gaze soon returned to me. “I’d like to hear what you have to say about it, though.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Even though whatever I tell you will be biased since I’m with Clan Heru?” I wanted to make sure he understood that I wasn’t here to get lost like all the others; I was here as an emissary.
“Even more so because you’re with Clan Heru.” The corners of his mouth lifted, and he raised his voice, just a little. “I, too, am with Clan Heru.”
Behind him, there were hushed whispers among the crowd. He’d just declared himself for our side, and some of the tension I’d been lugging around faded.
“Walk with me,” Dorman said, stepping to the side and holding his arm out. “There’s something I think you’ll want to see, and on the way, you can fill me in on all the excitement.”
I fell into step beside him.
“You’ll find no fans of the Senate here,” he added.
I looked at him, intrigued. “Oh? Then you’ll help us fight them?”
He stared off into the distance. “Me?” he said, frowning. “I’ll do what little I can, but I’m just one man.” He nodded to the crowd that was now following us. “It’s them you’re after. Prove that th
is war is about more than just power. Prove your worth, earn their trust, and they’ll be the most loyal army you could ask for.”
I glanced over my shoulder. There were well over a hundred Nejerets trailing behind us. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
Dorman glanced at me sidelong. “You, my dear, are about to find out.”
Chapter Two
Dorman led me to one of the smaller hangars in the cluster making up the pseudo–town square, the small horde of Nejerets trailing behind us. I filled him in, giving him the quick and dirty version of all that had happened the previous week with Ouroboros and Mari, everything leading up to Heru’s declaration of martial law and the resulting split with the Senate.
“And so the mighty king reclaims his throne,” Dorman said, heading straight for the hangar’s huge open doorway. Two overlapping sheets of plastic blocked the way.
“Governor General, not king,” I corrected. “And it’s only a temporary position.”
In the mirror pendant, Dom snickered.
Dorman chuckled softly. “Darlin’, Heru always has been and always will be a king. He can’t help it. It’s who he is.” I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could say anything, Dorman patted my shoulder and said, “And don’t you fret. I accept his right to rule over me. Daresay I welcome it. I sure as hell trust him more than I trust the rest of the Senators.” He held one side of the plastic curtain up to let me through, then turned to address our train of Nejerets. “We’ll return momentarily.” He motioned for me to enter the hangar.
As I did, I blinked against the sudden brightness. Standing floodlights were positioned at intervals throughout the cavernous interior, illuminating dozens and dozens of cots lined up in neat rows, like this was some kind of field hospital. Many of the collapsible beds were occupied, the people lying on them either asleep, reading, or staring off into space. Some were bandaged here or there or had an IV attached. A handful of other people wearing mismatching scrubs moved around the area, looking after the injured and sick. Their patients seemed well cared for, but even so, something felt off. It was quiet in the makeshift hospital, but not in a peaceful sense. It was too subdued for that. It felt lonely.
“This is our hospital,” Dorman said, like it wasn’t obvious.
“I can see that.” I surveyed the area. I hadn’t considered that there might be anything like this here, but I supposed it made sense. People get sick everywhere; even a place like the Tent District needed some sort of infrastructure for allowing its residents to be cared for. It took a few seconds, but when the reason for the sense of loneliness struck me, it hit hard. “There are no visitors.”
Dorman’s eyes widened, like my observation surprised him. “Correct. We’ve had to take precautions to minimize exposure.”
“Exposure to what?” Dom said, and my eyes narrowed on Dorman. “Exposure to what?” I asked, repeating my half-brother’s question.
Dorman leaned in a little, like he was going to share a secret with me. “The infection.” He started down an aisle between two rows of cots. “Follow me,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll show you.”
I stared after him for a few seconds, then followed, strides quick so I could catch up. “What kind of infection?” I asked, glancing from side to side, my voice hushed. “And why are you showing me?”
Dorman glanced at me over his shoulder. “Because I’m pretty dang sure that this virus, or whatever it is, is part of the war.” He angled toward another, smaller door at the back of the hangar. “The first person to show signs of the infection—a human—escaped from an Ouroboros lab. The same lab, I daresay, that you helped Heru dismantle.”
My hands balled into fists. I really didn’t like the sound of this.
“Our doctors haven’t been able to figure out what the infection is, let alone how it works, and they’re at an absolute loss as to how to stop it.” Dorman spoke quietly, for my ears only. He reached the door at the back of the hangar and opened it, then gestured for me to go through.
Through the doorway, I could see that more cots were packed into this smaller room, each and every one occupied. I counted twenty-eight patients in there. I hesitated before going in. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about catching a disease—any disease—but Ouroboros had been experimenting on humans and Nejerets. What if they’d developed a pathogen that could take me down?
“You’re safe enough,” Dorman said, reading my wariness. He slipped into the room ahead of me. “See? It only affects humans. We’re limiting the care staff to Nejeret volunteers. Besides, it’s not airborne, so far as we can tell.”
I followed him in. As my focus shifted from cot to cot, from feverish face to feverish face, my dread transformed to fear, then to anger. “They’re kids.”
Hands clasped behind his back, Dorman nodded. “Sammy—that’s the child who escaped from the lab—came to us six days ago. His friends brought him in, begging us to care for him. We had, of course, known about the children disappearing off the streets for some time. By the time we figured out what was happening, we were unable to do anything about those already taken, but for the past month or so, we’ve been offering sanctuary to any homeless child in Seattle in the hopes that staying within our boundaries might keep them safe.”
“I think it worked,” I said, nodding absently. “I have a friend in the PD. He said most of the kids vanished a month or two ago, before your offer of sanctuary. A few were abducted after, but with the pickings so slim…”
“That’s some comfort at least.”
“I’ll check in with Lex,” Dom said. “See if any of the kids they took to Bainbridge are sick.”
I scanned the youthful faces. “So Sammy was the first?” Some of the kids were awake, reading or chatting with their neighbors or curled up in the fetal position and crying. Others were out cold. “Who are the rest of the kids?”
“Sammy’s friends . . . and their friends, and so on.” Dorman settled his hazel stare on me. “There’s another room filled with more sick folks—adults, mostly. The infection seems to progress slightly slower with them, but nothing we do seems to help, really. Whatever this thing is, Ouroboros created it. If you could find the cure . . .” He inhaled and exhaled heavily, his eyes searching mine. “Most of the Nejerets who live here are here because they disapprove of the way our kind treats humans. Prove to them that you’re different—that Heru is different—and that your side cares about our mortal brothers and sisters, and you’ll earn the hearts and loyalty of every Nejeret here.”
I placed my hands on my hips and, slowly, nodded. “How many people are infected?”
“Forty-nine, and more every day. So far as we can tell, it’s contained within our walls. Thankfully, not many people leave this place.” Dorman’s gaze trailed off, landing on a cot in the far corner. “I’d just ask that whatever you do, do it fast. Sammy’s not going to last much longer.”
I reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll do what I can. If there’s a cure, I swear to you, I’ll find it.”
I sat tucked away in the corner booth at the Gull, a dive bar downtown on Pike Street, my tarot deck on the table before me, three cards faceup. The bar was far enough from Capitol Hill that I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder to make sure none of the Senate’s Nejeret watchdogs had found me, but it was close enough for comfort. A quick ten-minute bus ride would dump me on Broadway, just a block from my shop. Not that I’d been there in days, but knowing that Ninth Life Ink was so close was a comfort. Nik was there, looking after things in my absence. That, too, was a comfort.
I was in a holding pattern. I wasn’t sure what to do about the sick kids situation. Dom was off consulting with our people on Bainbridge, so he wasn’t around to bounce ideas off of, and the cards weren’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.
I gulped down the rest of my bourbon, then raised the empty glass and caught the bartender’s eye. Normally I don’t push for table-side service at a dive bar, but it was a Tuesday, and I was one of th
ree patrons in the place. The chick tending bar nodded and grabbed the bottle of Tatoosh, then made her way across the sticky floor to my corner table.
“You any good with those things?” she asked as she poured. She wanted me to do a reading for her. That’s why she was asking. It’s always why people asked.
I shrugged. “I’m decent.” Normally I’d humor her. Maybe even try to charm her pants off with my fortune-telling wiles. Might even earn myself access to a shower. What could I say? She was pretty enough in a grunge-chic way, and I was more than lonely enough.
I hadn’t been with anyone since that afternoon in the stairwell with the Senate’s spy. It didn’t matter that he was dead now, that I’d killed him. I was still tempted to replace the feel of his hands on my body with those of another. It might even work. For a few hours. But I was afraid that the memories of how he’d sounded in that stairwell, how he’d smelled and felt, would return, fresh as ever. I feared finding out that they might haunt me forever.
I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t in the mood for temporary amnesia right now, anyway.
The bartender lingered for a few seconds too long. I took it as a signal to take my leave and pulled my wallet from my left coat pocket. I fished out four twenties and handed them to her. “No change.” It was plenty to pay for the three doubles plus a decent tip. I tossed back the bourbon in my freshly refilled glass, then slid it across the corner of the table to the bartender. “Thanks.”
She took the hint and returned to the bar, the bottle and empty glass in hand.
I restacked my cards and tucked them into their crushed velvet drawstring bag, then returned the bag to my backpack and zipped the whole thing up. After scooting out of the booth, I headed to the bar’s back door, which spit me out in a dingy alleyway. The pavement was slick with rain and even slicker where the uneven cobblestones of days gone by showed through the patchy asphalt, and my balance was a little off from that last double. Pulling up my hood to fend off the drizzle, I made my way to the mouth of the alley, keeping a careful eye on where I placed my boots.
Kat Dubois Chronicles Page 20
