by Rhys Ford
Clouds of squat, sunburned people dressed in loud clothes wandered the main thoroughfare, some skulking into the side streets to look for local clubs or sex bars they’d read about. As I passed by Tiger Jimmy’s, a sailor dressed in SoCalGov grays stumbled out of the tattoo parlor and hit me in the shoulder. A hot stream of Cantonese chased him out of the door, followed by a couple of his buddies, their faces glowing pink with alcohol.
“Bastard,” the first one slurred under his breath. “Won’t ink me ’cause I had a few beers. Risk my damned life on that boat every day. They should be proud to put something on me. Fricking bastards.”
I sidestepped the drunk, but he grabbed my arm, staring up into my face. It took him a moment; then realization hit his marinated brain. Shock widened his reddened eyes; then anger narrowed them to pale blue slits.
“A frigging elf? Here?” He looked back at the shop, eyeing the small Chinese man standing firm in the doorway. “You’d give him a tattoo instead of one of your own? That’s what this is?”
“He does not come in here,” the tattooist said with a growl. “Sober up and then I’ll ink you.”
I tried shaking the sailor off, but he didn’t take the hint. If anything his fingers got tighter. The tattooist disappeared back into his shop, letting the door swing shut behind him.
“My uncle died fighting shit like you, and here you are, walking around this city like you own it.” His breath reeked, yeasty and hot.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I kept a close eye on the other two, but they seemed more interested in trying to untangle their arms from their jackets than what their friend was up to. “But I didn’t kill him.”
“If you ask me, you’re the crap we should be fighting,” he slurred, grabbing my jacket in his fists. “Instead, we’re on the water dodging the blighted monsters you bastards brought with you.”
He was taller than me, but being elfin, I was stronger. Sliding my arms up between his, I pushed out and broke his hold, stepping back onto the balls of my feet. I didn’t have a lot of faith in a cop siding with me if one showed up. I was still outnumbered three to one, but I hated backing down. A fistfight wouldn’t be bad, but my gun weighed heavy against my back. Shooting someone merely for being drunk and stupid was still against the law, and I couldn’t risk one of them grabbing it.
“Hey, Shane, leave the guy alone.” The larger of his two friends came up behind the drunken sailor and grabbed him by the shoulder. He smelled of beer too but seemed to be more on his feet. “If you get into something, the MPs are going to have your ass.”
“You want me to stand here and do nothing while shit like him walks around one of our cities?” Shane spat as he spoke. “All of them should be dead and buried someplace deep.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the second one said, hooking his hand in Shane’s other elbow. “But if you get into one more fight, you’re in the brig.”
“I’m coming back for you, you frigging shit,” he shouted at me, leaning in close until I nearly passed out from the smell. “Next time I see you, I’ll gut you, you freak.”
“Looking forward to it.” I grinned, letting my canines show. “Drop me a letter before you hit port, baby.”
“That’s what I love about you, sexy.” Duffy’s familiar voice tickled my ear. “You make friends wherever you go.”
The evening was still young, but Duffy already smelled like she’d sold a bit of skin: sex, astringent, and a hint of plumeria. She smiled broadly and hugged me, smothering me against her full chest.
Shorter than me by three inches, she made up the height with five-inch red leather stiletto boots that hugged her long legs until they reached the tops of her thighs. A matching red minidress slithered over her curves, a small silver ring on each side draped a loose silver belt over her hips, and tiny bells jingled as she walked. Her thick dark brown hair made a severe line, angling from the nape of her neck down to her chin, but the smile she gave me warmed her strong face and softened the hard cut of her blue eyes.
“Hey, Duff.” I winked at her, watching the crowd swallow up the sailors. “I was looking for you.”
“Hi, baby,” she rasped, her husky voice raw from inhaling the understreet exhaust. “Got some sugar for me?”
I let her kiss me, then felt the bite of her sharp teeth on my tongue. A dab of blood was all she got, but it was enough, and she pulled away, smearing the dot on her lip across her finger and licking it off.
“They’re going to toss you in jail if you keep doing that. Blood sexing is dangerous.”
“Says the Stalker. And I couldn’t help myself. You’re delicious.”
“Got some time for me? Just to talk,” I said, handing her some bills from my pocket.
“Sure, now that you’re done chasing off potential customers. I was about to see if those little boys wanted to spend some time, but you took care of that.” Duffy laughed, tucking the bills down into the pocket of her boot. “Come buy me a cup of coffee and tell me why you’ve got your hand out so early in the evening.”
We found a coffee kiosk across from Medical, and I bought her something bitter and dark with lots of sugar. Cradling my own cup, I let Duffy take her time sipping at the cinnamon-infused brew. Her eyes hooded in delight when the caffeine hit her system. A couple of benches were open, and we sat.
“How’s the stalking going, Kai?” She played with a rip in my jeans, teasing the hole with a long fingernail. “I hear you’re doing well.”
“I’m good,” I agreed. My belly was still full from the noodles, but the cup’s heat wasn’t something I was going to shun. The understreets were beginning to get chilly, and it went a long way in keeping my belly warm. “You?”
“Really well. Nearly got enough for a farm in the Interior,” Duffy said, stretching to pop her back. The move strained her dress, and I could see the rings of her nipple piercings outlined under the fabric. “Can’t you see me farming?”
“I can imagine what you’d look like in cutoff overalls.” I cocked my head when she laughed at me. “I don’t think you’d get a lot of farming done, though.”
“Tell me why you’re here tonight,” she said, patting the top of her boot. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about talking. In which case, why are we sitting here drinking coffee?”
“No, haven’t changed my mind.” I saluted her with my cup. “Nice, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I need information on a sidhe.”
“A sidhe?” Her wince pulled up the side of her upper lip. “Other than you, I don’t really go that way. Don’t like them. They give me the creeps.” Duffy made a face but didn’t apologize. I didn’t expect her to.
“I got tapped for a job for him, and I need information or I’ll be going in blind. I thought I’d start with you.” I risked patting her leg. My nerves were tight, and the need for touch was growing, but Duffy was a good friend, and I wanted her to know I wasn’t insulted. She’d been my first, a favor Jonas called in when he thought I was getting squirrelly. I liked to think she was fond of me, even with my pointy ears. I was certainly fond of her.
“I know someone you can talk to.”
“Is this someone going to be willing to talk to me?”
“Oh, yeah. Seeing you will make him very happy. Tell him I sent you.” Duffy pulled one of her business cards from her other boot. “Do you have a pen?”
I snagged a pencil from the coffee kiosk, promising to return it as soon as I could. Duffy scribbled on the back of the card, a sloppy mess of Korean written in light. Handing it to me, she tucked the pencil behind her ear. “Here. The guy you want to talk to is Orin Bennett.”
I put the card into the inside pocket of my jacket. “Okay. Where can I find him?”
“Yeah, this is the part that you’re probably not going to like.” Duffy smiled at the kiosk owner, who glared back. “He owns the Diamond Kitty, and you, baby, are probably his kind of wet dream.”
CHAPTER SIX
IF THE red lantern district was good for anything, it was satiat
ion. The area lived, ate, and breathed to provide everything someone might want, no matter how decadent or deviant, because in the deepest black of the understreets, a person could find things they’d never known they wanted. Everything came with a price, and sometimes someone ended up paying with their soul, but it could be found. And sometimes the things someone wanted to avoid with every bone in their body dragged them kicking and screaming into one of their worst nightmares.
The Diamond Kitty was definitely on my list of nightmares.
“Oh, come on,” I said, regretting that I’d not taken a shot of whiskey with my coffee. “That club is the last place I want to walk into. Wall to wall skin jobs? Are you crazy?”
“Sorry, kitten.” Duffy shrugged. “That’s the best I can do.”
“No problem.” I’d need not only a shot of whiskey but a couple of kreteks before I walked through that particular door. “You sure he’ll know something?”
“Think about it, Kai.” She snorted. “If anyone is up the elfins’ asses, it would be someone who owned the Diamond Kitty.”
I left Duffy with a kiss on the cheek and made her promise to return the las-pencil. I caught a tik-tik into the depths of the district. It took a few tries. Most won’t stop for a tourist. Even fewer will stop for an elfin. Even years after the war, grudges held, and my face made a lot of enemies without my making any effort. I flagged down several empty tik-tiks in a row.
Two ignored me, catching a line to somewhere else, and the other flipped off his available sign as he passed me, refusing to meet my eyes. A third flipped me off, and another driver spat at my feet as he passed, not bothering to hide his license number behind a vent of steam. I was about to give up and head for the tunnel tubes when a battered light blue pod landed with a groan, its generating wheel slowly ticking off as it spun in place below the catch cable.
The driver lifted its wings and caught the line-hook with a smooth jump. The pod barely jerked as it lifted and joined the stream of auto traffic heading in. He shifted lines with a practiced ease, the trip only marred by a slight jostle when a modified cab bumped us with one of its fins. The men exchanged a stream of hot curses in pidgin for as long as they could see each other, and then we were on our way, my driver making apologies for the hit. I paid him in cash, dropping a large tip on the till.
“You want me to wait?” He looked around the area. The surrounding buildings were nearly faceless, only a few spots of light peeking out of slit windows. There was the barest hint of a thumping music coming from somewhere, but it was too muffled to make out the source. Small groups of people watched from the darkness, their movements hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t the safest of neighborhoods, not by a long shot. Even if I asked him to wait, odds were he wouldn’t.
“Nah, I’m fine.” He didn’t wait for me to say anything else. With a turn of a switch, he hooked onto a line and was off, the pod quickly fading into the distance.
The Diamond Kitty was easy to find. A sign featuring a giant purple neon feline holding a white gem was my first clue. The second clue was the pack of altered young humans hovering near the doorway, smoking tightly packed rolls of pot.
I wasn’t sure what was more disturbing: their faces altered to resemble the elfin or them wanting surgery to look elfin. Nearly all of them had higher cheekbones, and a few had had their eyes altered, moving the fold of their lid higher and elongating the shape of their eyes. Mascara thickened the lashes of some until they were nearly black, while others looked as if they’d had ink done, darkening the lash line of their eyes. Contacts took care of the widening of their pupils and irises. One girl’s eyes were nearly the same shade of green as Ryder’s, the flickering neon catching on the silver strands running through the emerald ring.
“Hey, man, who did your cutwork?” one of the men asked when I approached the door. “Shit, how much did that run you?”
“Nothing,” I said, grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. “My mother did it.”
The club’s soundproofing was excellent, because as soon as I opened the door, I slammed into sound. It took me a few moments to realize it was noise passing itself off as music. A jangle of poetry wove through oddly phrased guitar notes and sporadic drumming. Under it all played a sound that reminded me of the times Newt decided he’d swallowed some of his hair and it was time to eject it forcibly from his stomach.
I’d entered a small foyer, squares of white-speckled black linoleum covering the walls and floor. Strips of opaque plastic hung from a wide opening in the opposite wall, effectively blocking my view of the club. A large man sat on a stool by the strips, skin gleaming under the dancing lights. He paid me no attention, reading from a porno strip and listening to music through plugs in his ears. A purple shirt stretched over his wide chest, its hem tight across his round belly.
“Can I take your jacket?” A coat check girl sat in a booth next to the bouncer, her face as sculpted as the people outside. Her long hair was purple, crayon bright with streaks of black under it. I wondered if she’d been cute as a human. As an elfin, she looked unfinished, especially when she moved.
“No,” I replied, speaking a little louder to be heard over the music. “Jacket stays.”
“No weapons are allowed inside, sir.” She pointed to the red scanning line above me. “I can offer you a lockbox to leave your gun in.”
“Stalker.” I dug out my wallet and showed her my credentials. “The gun stays too.”
She scanned my badge number, checking the readout against my face, her features calm and collected, as if she took in armed Stalkers every night. Handing me back my fold, she smiled and nodded to the bouncer, who didn’t even look up as he pulled the strips back.
“Where can I find Orin?” I asked.
“I’ll have him find you, sir.” She activated the slender link curving down from her ear. “Have a good evening. I hope you enjoy your time at the Diamond Kitty.”
The supposed music didn’t get any better behind the strips. If anything, it increased its grating and scraping at my eardrums. I took a few steps in and looked around, wondering what I ever did to the endless human gods to end up in one of their hells. The dance floor set half a story below had me trembling like a newborn.
If the group outside made me flinch, the dancing throngs under the flashing lights made my stomach churn. I couldn’t imagine the money spent to alter the bodies writhing to the cacophony pouring from the speakers, but I guessed it would run to the hundreds of thousands. Some were in a merged state of elfin and human, their chins or cheeks left undone, but the ruin of their natural features had already begun. Many had their lips plumped, and most hair colors ran to the rainbow of the unsidhe, with spots of the white or gold of the Dawn Court dotting the crowd.
I had to grip the railing to prevent myself from turning around and heading back outside. With the strokes of bright light playing over the dancers, it looked like a Dusk Court orgy.
It felt like I was back in the nightmare where I’d started.
A hand touched the center of my back, and I jumped, drawing my gun from its holster. With a growl, I shoved its muzzle up against the jawbone of the man behind me, clicking the trigger halfway before I realized it. Only the too-human eyes of the man’s shocked face stopped me from pulling the shot off, and I backed away, holding the gun up. Breathing in the stink of human sweat and the smell of spilled beer cleared my head, and I stared down the man.
He was nearly sidhe in appearance. From the dandelion tuft of white hair down to his chin, the man looked like he’d walked out of a Dawn Court and into the understreets to play with the monkeys. His planed-down face was shaved bone, appearing smooth under his pale skin. I couldn’t spot any implants above his cheekbones, usually a telltale channel under the lash line, and I wondered if he’d grown out the bone, an expensive and lengthy process. Strangely, his eyes were a too human brown, no threads or specks of color cutting through them, a jarring discordance in his elfin fakery.
“God, you are beautiful,�
�� he said in a voice shaky with shock. The man probably thought I couldn’t hear him over the music, but he was close enough for me to make out his words.
“Bennett?” I shouted, tucking my gun back into the holster. I played it off, as if pulling a gun was a normal thing to do in a club, and hoped he didn’t see my hand trembling.
“Marissa said you were looking for me,” he shouted over the music, straightening the long frocked jacket he wore despite the heat of the lights. I looked down and found his height was the result of thick-soled boots, and his long legs were more of an illusion from a waistcoat rather than muscle and bone. Still, the result was scarily sidhe. “Let’s go someplace we can talk.”
I followed him to an alcove, waiting for him to sit down in the booth before settling on the other side of the banquette. He leaned forward and lit up a privacy screen, muting the sounds of the club to a murmur.
Under normal light, he was older than I’d first thought, certainly older than the young crowd outside the club’s door. His skin was tight over his cheeks, and I could see the pores along his jaw where hair had grown before he’d lasered it off permanently. The effect was eerie, his face oddly sidhe with an undercoat of human.
“Welcome to the Diamond Kitty,” he said, holding his hand out to me. I took it briefly, relieved to find the stroke of his skin on mine lacked the rush of blood I got from touching Ryder. “You must be Kai Gracen.”
“Not many Stalkers come in looking for you?”
“There aren’t many elfin Stalkers. I think you’re the only one,” Orin replied. “I’ve heard about you. I’ve seen pictures of you in some of the Post relays, but they’re usually a blur. You’re… much more beautiful than I’d imagined. If I’d known, I would have sought you out sooner.”
