Dorian laughed. “You might want to tell him you’re psionic before you sit down at Toko. It would be an expensive tab to get stuck holding.”
She glared. “He already knows.”
The wind seemed to find every little spot the emerald-colored gown left accessible to air. Shivering, she tugged at the too-short right side. Not wanting a repeat of the last time she wore this, she had ordered a more conservative pair of shoes, heel wise, which were much easier to walk in. Of course, the thin black cording holding her toes to the sole did nothing at all to stop cold air. Her mind got distracted from the regret of not adding green polish to her toenails as a gust slipped under the small white jacket across the bare skin of her back.
Why couldn’t he have invited me to the steakhouse or something? I feel like a damned half-naked peacock.
“Kirsten…”
She faced toward the voice as her father came through the wall of the apartment building. A few seconds of concentration aligned her body with the astral realm, and she hugged him. Alas, he was neither cold nor warm, and did little to help her against the breeze.
“Dad.” Her arms squeezed tighter. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You look amazing, honey.” His hand on her back went up and down. “Oh, my. You don’t have a bra on, do you? Go back inside this instant and―”
“Dad. I’m not a kid anymore and this dress is backless. It will look ridiculous.”
“If you bend forward too far you’ll pop out. Do you at least have―”
“Dad!” she screamed, blushing.
“―your weapon?”
Her forehead thudded into his shoulder. She found it curious that ghosts shake when laughing, as if they still breathed.
“Of course.” Kirsten waved her silver handbag at him. “Umm, Dad, you haven’t seen Vikram anywhere around here have you?”
“No, sweetie. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. You will eventually be happy and find someone to love.”
That’s why he’s lingering. Doesn’t want to leave me unprotected. A single tear squeezed out from between the collision of guilt and gratitude, appearing at the corner of her right eye.
“I have a bad feeling about this Russian playboy.”
“You and Dorian both. What’s wrong with you two? Someone finally doesn’t run screaming for the hills when they learn I’m psionic, and suddenly he’s dangerous?”
“It’s not that, I just have a bad feeling is all.”
“What, like he’s going to sell me overseas as a concubine or something? Slip me some chem in my drink and I’ll wake up on a yacht off the coast of Russia?”
“No, not that kind of bad feeling.” He stopped mid train of thought and blinked. “Does that really happen?”
Kirsten shrugged. “I dunno. It depends on who you talk to. Urban legend and all, I’m not in the department that investigates those kinds of cases. Besides, if I ever got kidnapped I’d just go astral and come back here and tell someone who could see me exactly where to send help.”
“If you could find someone capable of seeing you,” he grumbled, staring at a black limousine settling in for a landing a block away. “Something just doesn’t feel right about him. Too much money, too good looking, too interested in a cute, girl-next-door blonde who happens to be a cop and psionic on top if it all.”
She got quiet, measuring him with an even glance. “I’m not sure if you just insulted me or not.”
He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. “Hon, you’re very pretty, but guys like him go for a different kind of pretty.” Her father grimaced. “Bigger umm.” He held his hands over his chest as if holding something large and bulbous. “Lots of cosmetic work.”
“You’re making generalizations; not all rich men favor airheads with built-in floatation devices.” She looked down at herself, cheeks reddening. “They’re not that small. They’re athletic.” I can’t believe I’m talking about my bust size with my dad.
It was her father’s turn to blush. “Look, hon. All I’m saying is I want you to keep your guard up and not do anything you’ll regret.”
“Do you have some information I need, or are you just hoping I don’t put my legs in the air on the first date?”
He blushed harder, unable to look her in the eye anymore. “Kirsten… I dunno how to explain it, just a bad feeling.”
“I’ll keep alert, but he might have valuable information. I have to find Vikram before they kill him, umm, again.”
The limo glided to a silent stop. A holographic driver shimmered into view on the curb, acting as though it pulled open the motorized door.
“Miss Kirsten Wren?”
“Yes.”
From the back seat, Konstantin held out an arm, offering a narrow glass of champagne. He had changed into a black velvety suit with a violet ascot. Interior lights gleamed over his shaved head. Kirsten suppressed the urge to bite her lip, staring at the drink. It might almost be worth it to wake up on a yacht.
“Be careful, hon.” Her father patted her on the shoulder and dissipated.
She lifted the long left side of the dress and slipped into the car, accepting the glass. The illusory driver nudged the door closed; the effect would have worked better had the actuated door not been audible.
“You’re radiant.” He held up a matching glass.
Clink.
“So is this where you tell me you’re some kind of thousand-year-old vampire from Siberia and you’re going to take me back there with you?”
A genuine laugh lifted both his eyebrows. “You have quite the imagination, Miss Wren.”
He’s moving closer. Miss now, instead of Agent.
“Well, I’ve seen some things that make me wonder.”
Konstantin smiled. “I believe those creatures are still a thing of myth, though I am familiar with one or two unusual beings that may have given rise to the legend.”
“I’m psionic.” She studied the half-drained glass in her hand, just noticing she forgot nail polish as well. Dammit.
Again, he chuckled. “Working for Division 0, I sort of assumed. It is a requirement, yes?”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Her defense crumbled for a moment as her head spun left.
“I find it fascinating. The world is full of too many closed-minded fools who hate what they cannot understand.” He lifted a few strands of hair from her eyes, tucked it behind her ear, and brushed his fingers across her head. “It angers me when the innocent suffer due to ignorance.”
Her gaze slipped off him to the floor as a tremble ran through her. “I…”
Konstantin clasped her left wrist, drawing her arm toward him. He held her hand in both of his, stroking the back with one thumb. “Someone hurt you, someone close.”
Giant moths did backflips in her gut. The interior of the limo blurred into a spiral as she tried to figure out how she should feel. His fingertips traced the soft skin along the underside of her left forearm, sending ripples of energy up into her chest.
“Mother.” She swallowed the rest of the champagne. “Religious nut. She tried to beat the Devil out of me.” Kirsten thought back to the grime-covered ten-year-old with only a torn nightgown to protect her from The Beneath. How she went from a starving ragamuffin crawling through the underbelly of the city to wearing a six-thousand-credit gown while sitting next to a billionaire mystified her.
He continued to caress her arm; the touch changed from strange and electrifying to welcoming and soothing. “I am thankful you are so resilient. I find it odd how the ones who claim to be holiest are usually the ones who cause the most suffering.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. They always say forgive, and turn the other cheek. But they just want the other cheek so they can slap it.”
Konstantin laughed. “I think you have dwelled on misery long enough for one day. Come, let us enjoy ourselves.”
Kirsten had not even noticed the car land. He let himself out and met her at the curb as her door opened. Konstantin to
ok her by the hand, walking past a long waiting line in front of the Toko Lounge. Giant Japanese kanji traced themselves in the air above the door, holographic blue painted as if by an unseen brush. They just began to change to English as she lost sight of them beneath the archway.
Konstantin addressed the doorman in Japanese, bows were exchanged, and soon they arrived at a quiet table in a private room on the third floor. Pale wood and rice paper partitions sectioned it off from other spaces. None of the tables downstairs had chairs, just cushions, though this room catered to those in search of a less authentic virtual visit to Japanese custom. Konstantin pulled a chair out for her, and she surrendered her jacket to the attendant and took a seat.
The dark red cushion hit the bare skin of her back cold, she tensed until body heat equalized. Sheer fabric pulled taut over her breasts as she arched in response to the chill. Fortunately, Konstantin was enough of a gentleman not to stare.
“I do hope you fancy sushi, it is rather good here. Of course, they have plenty of other things as well.”
“I’m fond of it. I think I’ll have the sashimi.”
“Why don’t we get the ‘for-two’ then, I was thinking the same.”
“All right. Excuse me just a moment, need to use the ladies’ room.”
The simulated rice-paper door slid open on its own at her approach, and she found the restrooms at the end of a short hallway past another dozen private dining rooms. After setting her bag on the counter between sinks, she fumbled through it in search of her Nanochroma. Squeezing the handle turned it on, and a plain white light at the narrow end flashed in a slow blink.
Kirsten held it to the side of the dress until it beeped, and then positioned the tip over her left thumbnail. A single drop of green liquid exuded from it, fell onto the nail, and spread into an even coating of the exact same shade of green as her dress. She repeated the process for every nail, finger and toe, and blew the powdery white remnants of spent nanobots away from the enamel.
By the time she returned to the table, salad and miso soup had arrived.
“I took the liberty of requesting a pot of green tea. I was not sure what manner of drink you fancied.”
This is where I need to be careful and not… damn he’s hot, well maybe one.
“I guess just a synvod and orange juice is fine.”
His mouth gaped. “Oh, my.”
“What?”
“I can’t imagine referring to such a ghastly substance as vodka.” He winked.
“Sorry, I’m on a police budget. I also don’t drink often, maybe once every few months. Usually, I only use it to help me fall asleep after seeing something really awful.”
“Well, at least try one tonight. So you know what you’re missing.”
She chuckled. “Okay, but I shouldn’t lose my wits in the presence of such a dashing rogue.”
He cocked his head to the side and bowed.
“So, you said you found something out about the circle? Can we get that out of the way?” She battled her purse to remove the datapad.
“Of course.” He set his NetMini in the middle of the table and prodded it. A hologram of the circle shimmered into existence. “This part of the pictograph binds the ritual to an entity named Charazu.”
“Charazu? Is that what he calls himself as a ghost?”
Konstantin swallowed a condescending chuckle. “I trust you have heard of the Abyss.” He waited for her nod. “Mankind is still a baby in the eyes of the world. Beings existed long before we did, some of which are native to that place. Charazu is one such being, ancient.”
“A demon?” She set the empty soup bowl aside.
“He, or it, would better be served by that moniker than an escaped spirit. Things such as Charazu never took a mortal breath.”
“Okay, so the circle was what, dedicated to him?”
“I believe so. Mind you, this is just an assumption based on old texts and a little instinct. If you believe in this sort of thing, a circle such as this could have provided the creature a gateway into our world.”
Her seaweed salad seemed less appealing. “Is there any way to tell if it came through or not?” She thought back to the burning scratches. Her fingers traced over her exposed back, icy against the undamaged skin. “Never mind.”
“There was one reference to him I was able to find. He is known for trickery and shadow; however, the texts claim his greatest ability is to recall the souls of the dead from the prison of Gehenna.”
“Hell?”
“Well, I think of the Abyss as being sectioned off by degrees. Gehenna is the place where the wicked are sent, those with little hope to change. The ones who are tainted yet seek redemption languish in Sheol, while the outer realm of the Abyss overlaps our world. Those too impure to…” He made an upward patting gesture. “Go up, but not tainted enough to attract the Harbingers linger around the mortal world as ghosts.”
“The astral world? You’re saying the astral realm is purgatory or something?”
Konstantin leaned back while servers cleared away the salad and soup dishes and placed a large tray of sashimi between them.
“Hauntings are just souls who weren’t good enough to get let in upstairs and weren’t bad enough to get dragged down. It’s a romantic notion of mine to consider the powers of fate giving them the opportunity to make up their mind where they want to go.”
“What do you think sits on the other side? Do you think there’s a God?”
“If there is, it’s either so powerful it regards us as ants, or it’s cruel. Don’t you think? If such a thing did exist as benevolent as some will claim, it doesn’t make sense he, she, or it lets the innocent suffer so much.”
“Dorian said something once about life just being some kind of test for the soul, and it’s different on the other side.”
“I’ve heard similar theories bandied about as well.” He paused with a meditative calm, enduring an overdose of wasabi. “I still think it unfair to force the weak to suffer for some metaphysical evaluation. Life should be enjoyed, not tolerated.”
Easy to say with a starship full of credits. “I think this Charazu got out, and he brought some spirits back with him.”
“I’m sure you will be able to stop it”―a glint sparkled in his right eye―“now that you know its name.”
An uneasy smile spread across her face. Much to her surprise, the dinner conversation did not damage her appetite. The sushi, and real vodka, proved to be quite good, though she did not expect she would ever return to this place on her own credit account. No sushi was worth three thousand credits, even if an army of stone-sculpted men hand-fed it to her.
“May I invite you in for coffee?” Konstantin held her hands as they waited for the limo to come around.
The shifting azure-to-red of the Toko Lounge sign changed the color of his face, lending an otherworldly glow that made him hard to resist.
“I’m in the process of adopting a gifted boy with a similar talent. I left him with a babysitter that’s expecting me―”
Konstantin leaned toward her, dark eyes sparkling. She turned away with demure reluctance. His kiss fell on the side of her neck rather than her lips; the warmth of his breath plunged into her body like droplets of blood striking water. Strength in her legs faltered; she twisted into him, achingly aware only a thin drape of cloth prevented her breasts from touching him. Craning her neck, she let go of his hands and held on to his body to keep from falling. His lips traced from her jawline to the nape of her neck.
Fire swirled through her heart; despite the cold, she felt close to sweating. His hand under her jacket, warm fingers slid over her back. Helpless in his arms, her breaths came in deep rushes that sent waves of warmth through her. She waited for the imaginary fangs to pierce her neck, for a moment not caring what he did to her. Wanting him, needing him, she edged to the precipice of surrender; ready to plunge headlong into to the delight of his desire for her, to her body’s response to his touch. This man, wealthy enough to have an
y woman in the world, wanted her.
Kirsten did not care how many ghosts would crowd around the bed to watch. She leaned into his warmth, head forward over his shoulder as she rose up on tiptoe. The kissing walked back across her shoulder and up her neck. Burning threads of longing paralyzed her. Every ounce of her body cried out for him. Nila could watch Evan a little longer. He would not mind a sleep over.
Evan.
His face floated in her thoughts, grinning, hazel eyes gleaming with innocent love.
Kirsten lifted her head. Why would she think of Evan now?
Konstantin kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips, offering a scoundrel’s grin as he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Have you reconsidered?”
She shifted to meet his gaze, heels again on the ground. As though his speech startled her out of a daydream, she blinked.
“I…” What am I doing? She shivered, though not from the cold. “I’d love to, but…” Back seat? Gah, no! “I only have someone to watch Evan till ten. He’s the worrying type.” Her heart tried to beat its way through her ribs. Konstantin’s going to get mad.
Drawing her hand up for a kiss along the back of her knuckles, he winked. “I admire a woman who understands things worth having are things worth waiting for. Instant gratification is the purview of weak minds.”
Oh, I wouldn’t mind some instant gratification right now. Her body protested the abrupt roundabout her brain pulled. Why did I think about Evan right now? Oh, shit, maybe he’s in trouble…
“Shall I make reservations for next Friday?” He helped her into the limo.
“Okay.” The answer came autonomic, body overruled brain.
If she could stop worrying about the abyssals running around, perhaps she could allow herself to stop suffering. The desperate stare she sent at Konstantin’s chest turned away as he opened the door and got in. If she looked at him, if he asked one more time, she might not be able to resist.
itching the one-inch heels, Kirsten sprinted barefoot from the parking deck to the elevator, fidgeting the entire way to the thirty-ninth before running to Nila’s door. At the sound of two happy sounding children shouting “I got it” at the same time, she relaxed.
Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis Page 28
