“I would’ve burned their house down.”
“That’s why I like you,” Alice said, seriously. “You wouldn’t take that type of shit.”
“What’d you do?”
“I ran the other way and went home.” Alice rubbed her nose. “A few weeks later, I hacked into his email and sent out a mass message to every girl in his contact list. Told them all to get themselves tested for an incurable contagious disease that started as a rash down there.”
“Not bad.” I almost cracked a smile.
“Point is, Ruby, I think Colton had his reasons. You understand what he’s going through.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Hatred makes people do funny things. Make certain choices.”
“I’m not so sure.”
By way of response, Alice deftly sliced her hands through the air, bringing up a clip I thought had dissolved into the digital ether. But there I was, naked in Delores Dewitt’s bed, slitting her throat with a knife. Getting revenge for Pearl’s death.
“See?” Alice stopped the clip and made it disappear.
“And what would the alternative have been?” I asked, not sure that qualified as a bad choice. “Let them get away with it?”
“You see Colton’s problem, then.” Alice nodded sagely, suddenly sounding wiser than her nineteen years. “If his father is responsible for Sam’s death, he can’t let Malcolm get away with it. But he can’t pull the trigger unless he’s sure. Because that’s a bell that can never be unrung.”
“He didn’t have a problem shooting me.”
“That is a mystery,” Alice said, pursing her lips in confusion. “Anyway, I thought of something.”
“Please let the armchair psychiatry be over.”
“It’s about meeting Malcolm Roark.”
Good. The counseling session was over. Even if it had made me feel better—and saner—regarding Roark, I wasn’t ready to untangle my weird bundle of feelings. Better to focus on things I was good at: like plotting how to kill bad people.
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“You know Eden Marshall, right?”
I gave her a funny look. “Why, do you want an autograph?”
“Not my style,” Alice said. “But I think Malcolm would definitely like an introduction.”
“Seduction?”
“You know, as a PR stunt.” Alice gave me a conspiratorial smile. “He couldn’t resist the branding opportunity. What better person to have in your corner than your former biggest competitor’s sibling? It’s a killer PR win.”
“I have been seeing her billboards all over the city.” She’d made quite the comeback in just over a month. The media loved her.
“Well, she’s a big deal. And she owes you for saving her.”
“Maybe,” I said. Solomon Marshall had trapped her in shifted coyote form for seven years in a weird, misguided attempt at keeping her safe from MagiTekk. “But Malcolm killed her brother. She’ll never work with him.”
“She won’t help you kill the man who ruined her life?” Alice gave me an incredulous look.
“What about Malcolm?”
“Malcolm doesn’t know that she knows he’s a murderer. He just thinks she’s some tabloid star who emerged after a seven-year hiatus. Probably thinks she was a junkie. I mean, they found her naked in Old Phoenix, remember?”
“Yeah.” I analyzed the plan from different angles in my mind. “It could actually work.”
“You can’t buy that kind of friendship, Ruby. It’s the best chance we have.”
Maybe, just maybe, this could work after all.
But there was still one problem: me.
31
I was injured, limping, and had only one good arm. Useless in a fight. Which meant I needed a fix.
Or a friend.
Alice Conway’s extensive network of Fallout Zone contacts put me back in touch with Aiko the sorceress. At this point, I didn’t need someone who could mend my bruised bones, or coerce magical regenerative properties from my cells.
I needed a master of illusion. I wasn’t a fan of such tactics. But with push coming to shove, I had to take an unusual tack. One that my training might not have prepared me for, if the attempted infiltration of Jameson’s apartment was any indication.
Still, I needed to try.
I sat in the dusty basement of the Old Phoenix mansion, surrounded by moldy newspapers and sun-bleached boxes. The yellowed paper over the windows flapping slightly from the rickety fan.
Aiko emerged from behind the stacks. This was one of her many studios, as she referred to them. They were more hideouts, strategically placed far enough from MagiTekk’s beaten path to avoid detection.
My bare skin stuck to the vinyl chair, sweat slicking down my neck from the mid-afternoon heat. The calendar had ticked over to August as I’d plotted in Kendrick’s back room, and the weather had caught up accordingly.
I still hadn’t paid her for breaking the enchantment on Harcourt’s note, but she made no mention of it.
Staring at me from behind her gray-streaked black hair, Aiko said, “You are not used to deception like this, are you?”
“Stealth, yes,” I said. “Trickery, sure.”
“But not becoming someone other than what has been imprinted upon your bones.”
I pursed my lips together and didn’t answer, watching her head behind the boxes again. I hadn’t been someone other than myself for a long time. Not that this was unusual. Most people didn’t have a personality switch that they could flip at will. Unless they were sociopaths.
I listened to Aiko work, wondering if the strands of gray were a bit of natural deception: cause for people to underestimate her. That would be unwise. She had a powerful aura—far older and deadlier than she looked.
The slightly wizened appearance was likely cultivated to maximize her survival. A master of camouflage: a praying mantis hiding in the leaves, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Totally invisible until it was too late.
Aiko rubbed a scratchy lotion into my arms and stepped back. “You must commit to this person’s life.”
“I don’t follow.”
“This woman you are to become is not who you currently are. You must feel her life within your marrow.”
“Seems a little extreme,” I said, watching as the lotion formed ugly blotches on my arm.
This was the plan: accompany Eden Marshall to tomorrow’s meeting as her media assistant. Then stick a knife in Malcolm’s throat. Elegant in its simplicity, but not without drawbacks. The disguise had to be convincing enough to make Malcolm ignore me.
It had to cloak my aura.
And we needed credentials, in case I got identified.
Alice Conway was working on the latter. Aiko’s job would hopefully address the former issues.
“Here.” Aiko handed me an unlabeled bottle. “Cover your body.”
I rubbed the lotion on my legs. It turned the skin a sort of wrinkly gray. Aging me into something a little bit more appropriate for my years, I suppose.
“Don’t massage it too deeply,” Aiko said from behind the stack of boxes, hard at work on some unseen project. “It can be made permanent.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
I stopped rubbing and went on to another area. After radiation poisoning and surviving a fall from an ancient bridge, rubbing strange compounds into my skin seemed like the least of my worries.
“Tell me then,” I said, more to distract myself than anything, “what’s the true key to deception?”
Aiko popped up in the corner of the basement, carrying the project she’d been working on. The gray tresses flowed naturally through the wig. The long, unkempt mountain of hair looked every bit the part of a disheveled and overworked assistant.
With gentle, experienced fingers, she slipped my brown hair beneath it.
Taking a step back, placing her fingers along my temples to measure, she said, “It is the key to anything.”
“And t
hat is?”
“Belief.” She plucked the wig off my head and made a couple mental notes. “Every great accomplishment or destruction starts with the same thing.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The smallest of viruses.” Aiko peered out from beyond the wig, her eyes shining through her own gray-streaked hair. “The belief that it can or cannot be done. It is up to the individual to choose whether that virus is a vaccine or a plague.”
She reached into the folds of her dress and flipped me a small vial of blue liquid.
“Take that tomorrow, right before you leave.”
“What’s it do?”
“It will suppress your strong aura,” Aiko said. “But it will also temporarily rob you of any abilities you might possess.”
The wisps flitted weakly around the vial in mild protest. They’d been fading in and out during my recovery. I wouldn’t really miss them tomorrow, but it felt like heading into battle without an old friend watching your back.
A friend who had watched your ass for over two centuries.
“Can I have my clothes back, now?” I asked, looking at the blue vial. Completely naked, I had nowhere to put it.
“The aging poultices have not yet been absorbed.” Aiko disappeared behind the bleached boxes once more. “And so we will wait.”
“What about payment?” I asked, wondering why she hadn’t yet broached the subject.
“I am sure you will discover the proper compensation on your own.”
“Is this a test?”
“It is what you make of it,” Aiko answered.
I rolled the vial in my palm, watching the bubbles shift into slightly different shades of blue.
I wondered what I could make of this disguise.
I wondered if it would be enough to end things.
32
It was nightfall by the time I returned to Kendrick’s bar. After double-checking to make sure I hadn’t been tailed, I ducked inside the heavy wooden door. The regulars greeted me with amused looks, taking a moment to recognize me.
“Damn,” Kendrick said, pouring a whiskey. “You look older than me, lass.”
“I feel older.” I grabbed the whiskey as I walked by, not stopping as I downed it. “I’m headed in for a rest. Big day tomorrow.”
“You have a visitor.”
“Alice?”
“Just hear the lad out, will you?” Kendrick went back to wash glasses, not wanting to see my reaction. Even with the layers of aging lotions and whatever minor cloaking wards Aiko had cast on me, my skin was no doubt flushed a hot red.
I could feel the heat practically streaming out of my ears as I walked into the kitchen and banged against the industrial fridge.
“Get the hell out of there,” I said. “Now.”
Something rattled and fell inside. A few moments later, the hidden door opened, Roark looking chagrined. His eyebrows raised slightly as he took in my appearance.
“Has it really been that long?” Roark asked as I barged past, joining him in the tight room.
“What the hell do you want?”
“It’s been round the clock at MagiTekk. They’re roping everyone in, Ruby.”
“Great.” I took out the blue vial and set it on the glass. Then I went about tidying up the small room. Not so much to impress him, but because I didn’t want to look him in the eye. There wasn’t much to do. At this point, I had a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, an old pair of sneakers, and whatever old lady clothes Aiko had given me.
The shotgun lay propped up in the corner, like a prop from another life.
Satisfied that the modest quarters were as well-ordered as possible, I smoothed out the red cushions and lay down.
“It’s late, Roark.”
“You can tell me what you have planned. I can help you.”
“Just like you helped me on the bridge,” I said, the words bitter and hot. “Twice.”
“I just reacted. Read the situation.”
“Next thing you’re gonna tell me is you know how that is.”
“I don’t know anything.” Roark walked three steps over to the wall, leaning next to the shotgun. The room was cramped enough that his aftershave had overtaken everything. Seeped into the very fabric of the cushions. “Not anymore.”
“I need sleep.”
“We’d lost that battle, Ruby.” Roark’s foot tapped a nervous rhythm against the wall. “But we didn’t have to lose the war.”
“I could’ve just jumped. We could’ve jumped. Together.”
“And where would that have left us? On the run, six bullets to our name, hiding in a hole?”
“I’d have two less holes in my shoulder, for one,” I said, adjusting my weight to relieve the pinch in my shoulder. The still-healing wound thudded dully.
“There was no time. One of their snipers had you pinned. Right here.” Roark tapped his heart, which made mine flutter. “You heard the last shot. Bigger gun than mine.”
“I’ll bet.”
He didn’t react, keeping his expression cool and level.
“They’d have killed you, and they’d have killed me.”
“We’ll never know, will we?”
“But now MagiTekk thinks you’re dead,” Roark said. “And they believe I’m loyal to the cause. That I was investigating you on my own, to make sure the Tributary was properly opened. Then dispatching you when you were no longer useful.”
“Some of that sounds accurate,” I said.
“This is how we take down MagiTekk,” Roark said. “The bridge was out. We could be dead. We could be fucked. But we still have a chance.”
“Just get out of here.”
“They’re diverting most of the river to my father’s estate. The bulk of the source will be sluiced into a chamber for storage beneath the MagiTekk headquarters.” That must’ve been to start R&D on the successor to the Ghosts. Roark pushed off the wall and walked to the door. “You know where I am when you want my help.”
“What makes you think I’d want that?”
“Because, deep down, your wisps would have told you to do the same thing.” Roark shook his head. “You think I wanted to shoot you, Ruby? You think I wasn’t torn up, worried that I missed?”
“It’s like you said.” I finally rolled over and stared at him coldly. “I just don’t know anymore.”
Roark held my gaze, then pushed off the wall without a word. He left me with a sore shoulder and a new bundle of emotions to unpack before tomorrow’s big day.
Maybe I should’ve taken his help.
Maybe I should’ve trusted him.
But no one ever said that forgiveness came easy. Or thanks.
Since I had a sneaking suspicion he’d saved my life.
33
Well, I’d gone from high-priced call girl to sun-battered grandmother within the span of two weeks. But I’d always been Ruby, my name whispered in fear and awe. I could only really ever be Ruby.
It’s good to know exactly who you are. Except when you couldn’t be that person anymore. Had to remove that imprint from your bones. Then you were kind of stuck looking for alternatives.
The sun beat down on the Midtown corner as I waited for Eden Marshall to arrive. Across the street, advertisements for a new competition in the Tributary played: two teams facing off in an exotic land in a series of physical challenges.
I groaned, trying to get comfortable and shake off my nerves. The pantsuit bunched up around my waist and the thick wool blazer scratched at my skin. Eden had been all too eager to agree to the plan, even if it meant putting herself in danger. Revenge was alluring to everyone, even media darlings with new fragrance lines promising a worry-free existence in aromatic paradise.
I brushed the wrinkles out of the slacks, then thought better of it. I was supposed to look unattractive. Sweat crept from beneath the graying mountain of hair. I tried to ignore it as I waited.
The immaculate limousine pulled up to the curb, and the back window rolled down. In a conspiratorial
whisper, Eden said, “Ruby?”
I leaned over and said, “Is it that obvious?”
“I didn’t know someone so pretty could look this ugly.” I took that as a compliment. She opened the door and slid along the leather seat to let me in. With measured steps, I climbed inside, feeling the cumulative effects of my recent decisions.
If this plan went off well, I’d be taking a long vacation.
Once I was safely seated, the limousine roared off. The backseat smelled like whiskey and cigars, the interior trimmed in an elegant mahogany.
Eden wore a striking but simple blue dress, her diamond earrings glittering. I sensed a disturbance in her aura. This adventure was bringing up old memories. Unpleasant ones of time spent alone inside the records building.
She pushed a manicured hand through her blond tresses and said, “It’s really incredible work.”
I caught sight of myself in a small mirror and had to agree. It wasn’t the aging that made me ugly, but how Aiko had painstakingly accomplished it. There are people who become more beautiful with time, the lightness of wisdom and experience radiating through their skin.
Each artificial line in my face, each mark, looked like it had risen from the depths—had an origin story in skullduggery and evil. It was like this media assistant’s treacherous soul was broadcast on her face for the world to see.
I turned away and stared out the tinted window as the limo left Midtown behind.
“You’ve been busy,” I said, watching one of her billboards speed past. This one had her in a sundress, lying somewhat suggestively on the beach. Offering consumers a little slice of Paradise.
“It keeps my mind off things.” Eden looked almost embarrassed. The fragrance line, the media attention—it seemed trivial after what she’d been through. The ordeal that she could tell no one about.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding in agreement. “It does do that.”
“Can you promise me one thing, Ruby?”
I’d been making a lot of promises lately. Ones that would come due shortly. “Depends.”
“You kill Malcolm. No matter what.” Eden’s eyes burned with intense fervor, all those years of pain flooding through the carefully cultivated demeanor. “That’s why we’re here today.”
Ruby Callaway: The Complete Collection Page 52
