Fallen

by Claire Delacroix

"Like?"

  "It's often credited with vision of things beyond the physical."

  Montgomery glanced up. She seemed so pragmatic that he was surprised by her explanation. "Do you believe that?"

  Lilia smiled with confident ease. "Who cares?"

  Montgomery couldn't tell her that he did.

  Well aware that everything he said and did was observed, Montgomery let his tone fill with disapproval. "So, you were planning to offer this shade employment as a circus freak?"

  Lilia was clearly insulted—the flash of her eyes gave her away—but she replied calmly. "No. We just were meeting to talk."

  "In the old city? That's a big risk for a vague promise."

  Lilia's expression made it clear that it hadn't been a vague promise. "I check out all the angles," was all she said.

  What had the shade promised her?

  "What brings you to New Gotham?" he asked. He touched his blotter and a list came up. He felt Lilia try to read the display. There was a notation that she had arrived on the train from the Frontier earlier this same day and her name was hotlinked to Gideon Fitzgerald's obituary.

  "I'm in town for the Nuclear Darwinists' annual conference."

  That all seemed reasonable, except that her file showed she hadn't left the Frontier since graduating from the Institute for Radiation Studies nine years before.

  Montgomery would have bet his last cred that Lilia's journey was related to Fitzgerald's death.

  She knew something.

  "You live on the Frontier," he said.

  Lilia's expression hardened. "Born and raised."

  That explained her rebellious attitude.

  Montgomery stalled. He flipped through the images of the dead shade from her datachip, bringing each to the fore in turn, shuffling them like so many cards. It would take a ruthless killer to do this to another human.

  But then, a Nuclear Darwinist wouldn't consider a shade to be human, would she? Nuclear Darwinists, after all, were the scientists who used shades for research and shade hunters, like Lilia, captured shades in the field.

  "What are these?" Montgomery asked as half a dozen images scattered themselves across the blotter. They were the last ones loaded onto the datachip.

  The images were blurry but they seemed to be of packing crates in industrial settings. Warehouses and loading docks and trucks. They were images taken of a palm: he could see the outline of someone's hand around the perimeter of each shot.

  Lilia leaned closer to look. "Orv the Orange," she murmured and shook her head.

  "Excuse me?"

  "That's the name of the cartoon mascot for Sunshine Heals." Lilia touched the logo on one of the crates and Montgomery saw that it was on a number of them. "I guess everyone needs a hobby."

  "Yours or the shade's?"

  Lilia looked as if she would have liked to lie. It was clear where she'd snagged these, from the time and date posted on the images, and maybe that prompted her honesty. "His, obviously."

  He decided to provoke her. "You just took images of his palm? Couldn't you bring yourself to datashare with a shade?"

  "With a corpse, more like." She couldn't suppress her shudder.

  Montgomery watched her, intrigued by her squea-mishness. Was it an act? "Do you often take images of the palms of corpses?"

  She glared at him. "No. That's not one of my hobbies either."

  He returned to the images of the dead shade and noted how she had to turn away. She was pale, as if she'd be physically ill.

  She wasn't as tough as she wanted him to believe.

  Could she have killed the shade? He thought not. "So, why did you take the images at all?"

  "I thought it might be helpful in identifying his killer," Lilia said, her tone challenging. "After all, he's probably wolf-chow by now. Anyone who cared how or why this shade died would need all the help he could get. Of course, that was assuming that someone would care."

  Maybe frightening her was the best way to persuade Lilia to be quiet. "Do you know how long a palm stays live after its host dies?"

  She blinked. "Five or ten minutes?" Hers was obviously a guess.

  Montgomery gave her a sharp look. "Two minutes. Max."

  Lilia was visibly startled.

  Montgomery ran a hand over the display and continued his officious lecture. "Yet you were confident that it would stay live long enough for you to take these images. How many do we have? Five? Six? How long would it take to snag them? A minute? Two? Anyone who cared how or why this shade died would be very interested in that timing."

  "No!" Lilia pushed to her feet, furious. "That's not how it was ..."

  Montgomery let his voice harden. "Your appearance on the scene was virtually simultaneous with the shade's death. There were no other witnesses and no one else was apparently present. The location where you met would have facilitated that, and you have yet to say who chose it."

  "He did," she admitted with quiet force. "He pinged me."

  "That's your story."

  "It is."

  "When did he ping you? Why?"

  She clamped her lips shut and glared at him.

  Montgomery could see that she was thinking furiously, and thought it was about time. He leaned closer and tapped his fingertip on his desk. "If this has anything to do with an amateur investigation of the death of Gideon Fitzgerald, you should be aware that his death was officially declared an accident."

  "I know," she said with hostility. "I got the memo."

  "Lucky for you the death of a shade isn't considered a homicide under Republic law," Montgomery saw her alarm, but went one better. "Although there remains the issue of damaging federal property."

  "I wouldn't. I didn't. That's why I work at the circus ..." she began then fell into mutinous silence.

  "I don't understand."

  She gritted her teeth. "Individuals in the employ of the circus can't be harvested by the Society or the Republic, under Section 3002/45 of Republic law. They can't be declared shades." She took a shaking breath and spoke so softly that Montgomery almost missed the words. "They're safe there, so long as they're on the payroll and paying their taxes." Her features softened slightly. "And they get to have names instead of numbers."

  It wasn't every day that a Nuclear Darwinist defended the rights of shades, which were, by legal definition, not human. Montgomery was both surprised and intrigued by her passion about the matter. It didn't jive with her choice of career.

  "Why did you meet the shade in the old city?" he asked. "Another safe zone?"

  "I told you that he picked the place. I don't know what he wanted to tell me." She flicked a quick glance at the images on the desktop. "But someone made sure he couldn't say anything."

  Montgomery realized that the shade's killer must have been close at hand when Lilia arrived, close enough that she could have been killed in the old city herself.

  Like Fitzgerald.

  "You might plan your alibi with more care in future, Ms. Desjardins." Montgomery touched his desktop, consigning her images to a database with apparent impatience. "I could charge you with trespassing, given your own admission that you entered the old city without authorization."

  That made her lift her chin again. "Why bother? You'd never make it stick. Nuclear Darwinists head into old cities all the time. The most radically mutated shades are there, after all."

  There it was again, her protective tone when she spoke of shades. "I thought those shades were in the pleasure fringes," he said mildly, hoping to draw her out.

  "Not the bad mutations. They're hidden." She inhaled with disapproval. "Only those with genital mutations can make a living in the pleasure fringe, selling themselves to the norms who find such sights thrilling."

  "Do you?"

  She met his gaze, her own hard. "That's a pretty personal question. Maybe I should ask about your hobbies since you apparently spend so much time in the pleasure fringe."

  Their gazes locked and held for an electric moment.

  Montgomer
y frowned down at his desktop. "People have lots of reasons for becoming Nuclear Darwinists. What was yours?"

  To his surprise, Lilia smiled. "Filthy lucre."

  It was a lie and he knew it, although he couldn't fathom a guess as to the truth. "That's it?"

  "That's it." Lilia pointedly glanced around his cube, which was small and cheaply furnished, then met his gaze steadily. "Isn't that good enough?"

  "So, you would have sold this shade to the circus, if he'd been alive?"

  Again he glimpsed her annoyance before she managed to contain it. There was a moral principle guiding her actions, he would have bet upon it, but he didn't expect her to confide in him. "My motivation isn't that important, not now."

  Montgomery leaned his hips on the lip of his desk. "I think it is. Were you going to return the Republic's property? He had a Republic tattoo and was obviously a fugitive."

  "There's no comp in that, is there?"

  "Is everything about compensation to you?"

  "Pretty much, yes." Lilia pretended to consider this and nodded again. "I like a little luxury, after all."

  "So you hunt shades for bounty." He almost sneered, knowing that this wasn't her true motivation. She was an idealist, he knew it in his gut, and he wanted very much to know which cause had won her allegiance.

  Lilia swung to her feet and retrieved her chip from the port, her gesture quick enough that Montgomery didn't try to stop her. "Maybe it is about how quick you are," she mused.

  Montgomery let her have it. There was no reason for him to keep the chip, as the images had already been captured by his desktop. She spun to leave and he waited to speak until she had her hand on the door. "Funny, but I've never met anyone who did something distasteful purely for the comp."

  When she glanced over her shoulder, her expression was mischievous. "Maybe you need to get out more, Montgomery."

  "You must have had another reason to become a Nuclear Darwinist. Few of them defend the rights of shades."

  "And maybe they should." She pivoted then, her eyes flashing. "I'm the best shade-hunter that there is, and I do my best to snag shades first." There was pride in her tone.

  "First?"

  "Before they get dispatched to the mines and the slave-dens and the research labs." Her disgust was apparent, then she continued with pride. "The first two angel-shades ever discovered and captured were mine. Maybe you saw that on the vid."

  A chill slipped down Montgomery's spine. "I did read about that. It was earlier this year."

  "A major coup." Lilia jabbed her thumb into her chest. "My coup and I got a bonus for it." She patted her fancy laze with pride. "The Society would have just cut a regular pay amount, without even a thank-you-very-much. There's nothing wrong with being compensated accordingly for your skills. It's the Republican way."

  "Is it?"

  "They forget to tell you boys about the joys of capitalism when you get drafted."

  "I volunteered."

  "Well, then, you have my sympathies."

  That made Montgomery smile, a sight that disconcerted her for a heartbeat. "Thanks for sharing your status with me," he said softly. "Knowing who to call is a good thing for a cop to know."

  Lilia looked him up and down. "You can't afford me."

  Montgomery couldn't resist. "There are other forms of comp, besides credits."

  To his surprise, she blushed scarlet.

  Maybe Lilia wasn't such a grieving widow, after all. Their gazes locked and the air in his office seemed to sizzle.

  "But creds buy them all," she concluded. She pivoted to leave, but Montgomery stopped her on the threshold with four low words.

  "Watch your ass, Lil."

  She glanced back, maybe expecting to catch him in the act of checking it out himself.

  Montgomery met her defiant gaze instead. "Either your acquaintance was left for you to find, or you're the most likely person to have killed him."

  She was visibly insulted. "I'd never savage another being."

  "Not even for the right price?"

  Lilia looked away.

  "I could confiscate all your weapons right here and right now, as well as charge you with trespassing, but for the moment, I'll just keep copies of your images. A little advice, Lil—"

  "My name is Ms. Desjardins and I think you've dispensed plenty of advice already ..."

  "A little advice, Lil," Montgomery repeated, his voice hard. "Follow the rules while you're in town. We do things a bit differently here than on the Frontier."

  She put her hands on her hips. "Or?"

  "Or you could find yourself on the wrong side of the Republic. Take it from me, that's not a good place to be."

  "Really? And what would you know about it?" Lilia crossed the office and leaned her fists on his desk, rising to his warning in a way most women never would. Montgomery was fascinated. "Or is that your speciality? Making life miserable for those who don't play the Republic way? Are you threatening a citizen, Montgomery?"

  How could she be so reckless? How could she be so unaware—or uncaring—that the eyes of the Republic were everywhere? He wanted to protect her from herself more than he'd ever wanted to protect anyone.

  He knew his expression was cold. "Of course not. Just doing my part to serve and protect."

  She glared at him for a long moment, and the tension between them changed—again—from anger to another flavor of passion. She pivoted and marched back to reception, refusing his escort with a dismissive wave.

  Montgomery didn't believe Lilia was as foolish as she wanted others to believe and he didn't believe her presence in New Gotham was a coincidence. If nothing else, as a Nuclear Darwinist, she knew the risks of going into the old city.

  What had the shade offered to make a trip into Gotham's hot zones seem worthwhile?

  Montgomery wanted to know.

  He was going to find out.

  The last thing Lilia needed was a reminder that she wasn't on her usual turf, but she got it anyway.

  The courtesy shuttle from the bike rental shop dropped her off—discourteously—on the opposite street corner from her hotel. Lilia had a few choice things to say about service fees for lack of service, but that made no difference.

  The prudent choice would have been to descend into the netherzones, the underground service network that ran beneath the streets of every city in the Republic, but Lilia couldn't face more darkness.

  It was no more than a fifty-yard dash to the hotel's entrance and the street was quiet. She'd be in bed in a quarter of the time it would take to navigate an alternative route through the unfamiliar netherzones. There was a silvery fog in the street, one that Lilia didn't much like. The fog and the events of the evening combined to make her go for the easy choice. It was a bold move, but the kind of thing Lilia did all the time.

  On the Frontier.

  That was the critical difference. Lilia hadn't taken more than half a dozen steps before they were on her.

  Six burly soldiers leapt out of nowhere. They were wearing dark uniforms and balaclavas. Lilia didn't recognize their insignia—not that she had a lot of time to peruse their badges. They took her down hard, probably because they enjoyed it that way.

  She assumed they were serving with Sumptuary & Decency, because it wasn't just a joke that S&D liked going undercover. It took a certain kind of man to savor a job enforcing the Decency Code. The unspoken assumption was that all women who violated the code were harlots or slaves or both.

  Lilia's pseudoskin didn't fit well with this view of the world. She'd forgotten how rigorously the rules could be enforced: everyone was lax about the S&D laws on the Frontier.

  The men slammed Lilia into the wall, one twisting her arm behind her back. She couldn't defend herself well because of the unfamiliar weight of Gid's suit. Another grabbed her braid and pulled it back, exposing the I.D. bead embedded in the back of her neck. Her helmet fell and rolled. A third snagged Lilia's laze and fired it once across the street, then whistled through his teeth.
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  "Nice piece," he said.

  Lilia might have complained about the wasted firepower but the first rammed his armored hips into hers. He squeezed her between the wall and his pelvis, then ground himself against her.

  It had to be military-grade reevlar on that codpiece— there was nothing mortal that could be so hard. Lilia wasn't going to tell him how much it hurt, though. Attitude would only get her into more trouble.

  Even if it was difficult to define at this point exactly what more trouble might be.

  "Bet that's what you want, isn't it?" he muttered in Lilia's ear. The perverts with him laughed, but she kept her mouth shut.

  She was outnumbered and on the wrong side of the law.

  Hadn't she just been warned of the price of that? Montgomery must have ordered her up a 3-D version of his verbal warning.

  "What're you doing out in the world without an escort, slut?" asked the commander. He ran his reader over her neck with more force than was necessary. Lilia knew she'd have a bruise.

  She also knew they'd love to give her a few more.

  "Just going home," she said meekly.

  "Lilia Desjardins," he read. "What kind of name is that?"

  "The one my mother gave me."

  "But not the one your father gave you." They snickered together, reassured that they'd called her occupation correctly. "Maybe she didn't know who your father was, slut."

  "I don't know." Lilia tried for the demure tone she found so elusive.

  "What're you doing out alone? It's past curfew."

  "I was working." Admitting—again—that she'd been in the old city wasn't going to improve anything. She didn't imagine they'd believe that her cloak had been eaten by a wolf either.

  "Looking to find a sperm donor of your own?" asked the one pressed against her. He rolled his hips and her pelvis ground against the brick building. " 'Cause, baby, I'll volunteer."

  They found this so funny that it didn't seem any of them would be able to catch a breath anytime soon.

  "I'm a shade hunter," Lilia said when their laughter finally slowed.

  "You won't have to look far to find a shade willing to get a piece of that," the one holding her hair said, then pinched her butt cheek hard. Lilia winced but didn't complain.