Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Demon’s Bounty
The Compex
Margo Bond Collins
Demon’s Bounty © copyright 2017 Margo Bond Collins
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Untitled
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Untitled
Untitled
About the Author
Acknowledgments
As always, I couldn’t continue to write without all the support I have in my life, and I remain more thankful than I could ever say for all you give me. All my love and thanks to these people, and more. To Isabel, first and always. To Erin Hayes, Blaire Edens, and Jayne Fury for being my partners in crime and insanity. To my parents, for support and love. To Deb, for reminding me to come out of my writing cave sometimes—and for joining me in it! To Rebecca, for career advice and support. To Melanie, for steering me toward indie publishing in the first place. To the BIC group, for keeping me mostly sane, most of the time. To Jim, for making sure I sometimes leave my writing attic. To my ARC Angels and my Vampirarchy street team, for fantastic social media support and interaction. Y’all ROCK! Love to you all!
About DEMON’S BOUNTY
The Complex Book Series.
A Lone Planet.
One Complex.
Unlimited Chaos.
Drina—a shapeshifter, thief, and con-artist—is on the run. Having bought a curse from the demon Shaitan to expand her shifting powers, the Complex seems like the perfect place to hide in plain sight.
But it turns out the bounty hunter she's running from is closer than she ever expected. If she makes one wrong move, he’ll catch her. And she really doesn’t want to accept his offer of safety in the Complex, then prison when they leave. That means approaching Shaitan. Again. But the demon’s price has gone up. Now he wants all of her. Body now. Soul later.
She’s not sure whose deal is worse. Or which one she’ll choose.
About the Complex
After a brutal war between Humans and Metas, an uneasy truce is declared in the Seldova solar system. At the conclusion of the treaty signing, the Complex is created on the lone planet, Lorn. The Complex is a blended community of Humans and Metas, all sent to test the waters for a more peaceful existence between the two races. Living under a domed community can only mean one thing for the Humans and Metas. Chaos.
Chapter 1
Shit. What am I doing here?
Above the crowds exiting the jetters, the giant Complex dome glitters brightly, its walls curving off into the distance—an enclosed space so enormous that it shouldn’t set off a screaming, clawing claustrophobia within me.
But it does.
The hot sun shines down on us as we wait in line to enter, shuffling forward every few seconds as someone else is checked off a list, scanned, searched, tagged, and allowed in.
The thought of that subcutaneous com device makes me want to vomit almost more than the overwhelming scent of heated body odor rising from thousands of creatures out here, representing hundreds of different races.
I’ve spent my entire life ducking crap like that—avoiding anything that could get me tracked, entered in the system.
Like a gods-be-damned citizen.
My gorge rises, and I wave along the kitsune family group behind me in line, muttering something about seeing my companion farther back. Maybe if I give myself a minute to breathe, I’ll calm down enough to do this thing.
If I can keep from hyperventilating.
Under all the incipient claustrophobia is the terror that the bounty hunter who’s chased me across three planets will finally catch up with me once I’m trapped in that enormous enclosure.
Calm down. He won’t catch you.
Hell, he won’t even recognize me. It’s not like I’m my usual self today.
None of my usual selves, in fact. Shaitan’s curse made sure of that. As well it should’ve, given how much it cost me—the very last of the currency from the job that landed me in this mess. Lucky for me the payout for joining this ridiculous social experiment will almost cover what I’ve lost.
If I survive.
Breathe, Drina. Just get inside and scope out the joint.
Treat it like a job.
A heist.
One in which my freedom is the take.
I remind myself that the demon had promised life in the Complex wouldn’t be all doing what we’re told, wouldn’t be all lock-step and orderly.
It can’t be, right? After all, he’s going to be here. And anywhere Shaitan shows up, there’s bound to be something underhanded going on. He’ll make sure of it.
If I can just stick it out the entire two years and claim my reward, it’ll make everything I’ve paid, all I’ve done to get to this point, completely worth it.
Drina Movo will have stepped out of the entire universe back on the Meta planet Pinao. And Lexi Maina will walk out of the Complex, a hundred-thousand S-Co richer, a free shifter-woman with a clean record and a bright future.
And if I can’t stick it out?
I’ll simply have to find an escape route.
But first, I have to get in.
With murmured apologies, I step back into line, giving myself an internal, encouraging pep-talk.
You can do this … Lexi.
When I finally make it up to the entrance, an overly cheerful Human greets me.
“Name?” She smiles, all her teeth showing.
Among my family of origin, that would be seen as a threat. I have to push down my desire to growl in response.
“Lexi Maina.” I manage to sound almost pleasant.
She checks my name off a list she pulls up on her reader.
Ugh. Citizenship.
When she holds out her hand for the black bag I carry slung over one shoulder, it’s all I can do to keep from clutching it to myself and snarling.
But I’ve played more perceptive people than this one. She doesn’t notice my reluctance as I hand it over with a smile that rivals her own teeth-baring one. I hold myself perfectly still as she riffles through the items I’ve brought with me, and runs a scan across the bag to be certain.
“Actual paper books?” she asks.
I make a noncommittal noise as she glances back at her reader, and then s
he bares her teeth at me again. “Oh. You’re the librarian. That makes sense.”
She doesn’t notice anything amiss.
Good.
No one should.
The weapons built into the books, into the bag itself, weren’t part of my purchase from Shaitan. I got the ideas for those somewhere else.
And I didn’t pay in money.
I shake the memory off. That’s not who I am anymore.
Not here.
“Com?” the Human woman says, and I hold out my right hand. She runs her scanner over it once, then glances at the readout and frowns.
“I don’t have one,” I say.
She blinks at me, startled, and I let my form shimmer until my vision changes, focusing in on her outlines as they become crisp and clear, and everything in the distance goes fuzzy.
A predator’s vision.
Her swiftly indrawn breath, the sudden flare of fear that plumes off of her into the air—these let me know she’s seen the change in me, though I’ve mostly kept my humanoid form. I glance down at my arm and see the spots.
I flash a smile at her, letting my canines show.
“I’ve never needed one before,” I purr.
Carefully, she takes my hand and turns it over, positioning the subcutaneous insertion device against the skin. One sharp prick of pain, and I’m tagged.
Like a fucking zoo animal.
The Intra officer holds my hand a shade too long. One of the Humans whose interest in Metas goes beyond the hope of ending a war, then. The mixed scents of desire and dread drift up to surround me.
In my half-shifted shape, she smells like something delectable. Intoxicating.
Like sex.
Or maybe food.
But no.
Not here.
I pull my hand back, murmur a polite word of thanks, heft my bag over my shoulder again, and enter the giant silver dome.
And I’m inside.
I shove down the urge to turn and bolt back out the doorway, repeating it over and over to myself: here, I am not afraid.
Here I’m Lexi Maina. Leopard shifter. Librarian.
Citizen of the Complex.
My apartment is tiny, but it’s so damn clean.
I might have to rub myself all over it.
The problem, of course, is that I don’t even smell like myself at the moment. That damned curse I bought from the demon Shaitan works to change everything about me. That’s why I went to him—he’s the best.
But it’s disconcerting to smell a stranger’s scent and realize it’s my own.
With a shake of my head, I toss my bag onto the counter that doubles as workspace and table, and throw myself back onto the bed.
Soon, I’ll need to deal with the weapons in the books, distribute them around this space—I start to call it my home, but the thought of living in just one place for more than a few days makes my hackles rise—and around my workplace, as well.
I take a deep breath and try to absorb a sense of safety.
For now, no one has any idea who I really am.
What I am.
Or why I’m here.
I stretch out and close my eyes, listening to the sounds of the Complex, learning them, letting them work their way into my subconscious so that I can be ready to move the instant something changes—whether I recognize what it is immediately or not.
The hum of the air filters soothes me.
I wonder if they can blow out the stink of mixed Humans and Metas. After all there is an otherwise uninhabited desert planet outside.
Outside.
I shiver, trying not to remember the feel of real wind through my fur.
Two years in this place.
I can do it.
I can do anything.
Of course, that’s the attitude that landed me here in the first place.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have taken on that last heist. Or at least found a mer for the crew. But they can be such self-righteous, sanctimonious pricks, acting like fins and the ability to breathe underwater make them better than the rest of us.
They’re just fucking fish-shifters, when it comes right down to it, as far as I’m concerned.
Anyway, at least one of them apparently didn’t like having some other shifter swipe his best stuff. I don’t know where he got it all—some of it looked like Human treasure, not Meta—but I did know a guy, a giant, who was willing to pay top S-Co prices for it. That’s why I took the job.
Unfortunately for me, the merman was willing to pay just as much to get it back—and to pay a bounty hunter that much again to track my ass down and bring me in.
“Justice,” the bounty hunter had called it, when he finally caught up with me on the roof of a tall building in the capital city on Pinao.
“Vengeance,” I’d responded from my spot thirty feet away, where I crouched behind the scant protection of a vent-pipe.
The man the mer sent after me was huge—muscular and hulking in a way that I usually associated with someone much slower than he’d turned out to be. Surprisingly articulate, too.
I would have preferred to go up against a muscle-bound pinhead. They’re easier to fool.
“Doesn’t matter what you call it,” he said. “I’m going to take you in to face it.”
In the end, though, he was—as the saying goes—only Human. He didn’t have a Meta’s naturally enhanced eyesight, though I didn’t know what kind of implants he might’ve gotten.
Anyway, he definitely didn’t have a shifter’s ability to land safely after jumping from a great height.
I simply had to make it to the edge without getting shot.
Sneaking another peek around the pipe, I evaluated my chances. Maybe… thirty-seventy? Better if he didn’t have night-vision implants. The odds were definitely in his favor no matter what, though. He had guns. I had … me.
Fuck.
I’d never been this close to getting caught.
Nope. I definitely don’t like it.
I felt around the base of the pipe, letting my eyes shift even more in hopes of seeing something useful.
There, about a foot in front of me. Two tiny, round rocks.
Moving as silently as a cat, I reached out and carefully palmed them.
Keep him talking.
“What kind of justice? What am I looking at?” I called out, as if maybe I actually gave a damn what the mer wanted done to me.
Muscle-man began talking about cooperation and reduced sentences. All crap, of course—there was no way the mer would do anything other than the worst the law allowed.
In the middle of the hunter’s sentence, I flicked the stones out to his left, where they clattered along the roof.
That half-instant of distraction was all I needed.
I took off running and threw myself off the building.
Not all the way to the ground, of course. I just jumped across an eight-foot gap and down to the roof of the next building over, two stories below this one. I let my bent knees disperse the shock of landing, pausing only long enough to regain my balance before I took off running again.
The one time I glanced behind me, the hunter was leaning over the edge of the roof we’d been on. When he saw me looking, he touched two fingers to his forehead in a kind of salute, as if he admired my escape.
As if he saw me as his equal, as well as his prey.
That was the moment I realized that no matter what—even if the mer stopped paying—this hunter would never quit stalking me.
Chapter 2
Sitting up, I rub my eyes. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point. It’s been a long time since that’s happened—I haven’t slept so soundly in months.
I look around for a chrono, but then remember that my chip has that information. It feels odd to ask aloud for the time, but the answer reassures me. It’s been only a few hours since I arrived in one of the earlier jetters. Humans and Metas are undoubtedly still being processed into the Complex.
Good. That gives me ti
me to deal with the books I brought.
Pulling them out of the bag, I spread everything across the countertop workspace.
Opening some of the books, I pop a claw and begin teasing specific threads out of the binding, careful not to cut myself on the razor-sharp wires as I slide it out.
Soon, I have a pile of it in front of me.
I stack the books back up to take to the library when I go later, and then turn my attention to the black bag.
It looks like standard issue. And it’ll pass any reader, too—there’s nothing that would show up as odd on a scan.
I begin pulling it apart, using my claws to rip out the stitching holding the bag together. It has a shiny black piping around the edges, with plastic supports sewn into the bottom to help the bag keep its shape. I carefully remove all of that.
With a few additional claw-slices along already perforated lines, I finish shaping the knives—shivs, really—I began back on the Meta planet once I finally acquiesced to Shaitan’s plan.
I wrap the piping into handles, attaching it to either end of the sharp wires. Then I pull strips of fabric off the bag, winding them around the handle-end of the shivs.
Low-tech weaponry, but it will do the job in a pinch.
I’ve always preferred thieving to assassination work—but I can do either, if it becomes necessary. And a weapon like this is less immediately identifiable than claw-marks.
Moving around the single room, I place garrotes and knives in strategic places.
Opening a drawer in the miniscule kitchenette, I smile ruefully at the cooking knives. Probably better than my homemade versions.
But I can still hear Nema’s voice during my training years.
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