by Anya Bast
There had been a time, though, when he would have found them alluring no matter what. That time was not so long in the past. Understanding the reason why, he glanced at Daria. Having fallen in love with her seemed to have eased the dark need he had for human blood. She seemed to sustain him in so many ways.
Behind them, Ari and Sante had risen. Now Ari stood a distance away from Sante, having apparently regained her sense of outrage and grief.
“You’re treating them like animals,” whispered Ari. She was only barely audible over the rising clamor of hungry blood slaves and their demands for the dark kiss. “Like-like livestock.”
Sante didn’t turn, probably didn’t want to meet her eyes, or maybe he couldn’t turn his head after the beating Alejandro had given him. He only stared out over the swell of slaves. “They are livestock.”
Ari flew at him, hitting him with her fists, screaming and crying. “How could you do this? How could you not tell me about it? You are not the man I thought you were, Christopher! How could I have ever thought I loved you?”
Alejandro took a step away and allowed it to happen. Sante took her pummeling calmly for a several long moments, then he turned and hooked his bound hands around her throat, pulling her against him and kissing her on the mouth. She protested at first and then stilled, allowing him to kiss her but not returning it.
Together they sank once more to the filthy floor of the warehouse, Ari with her arms around him. She sobbed against his chest as he told her over and over that he loved her and he was sorry.
Sante’s blood now marked Ari’s cheek and her tangled hair. His left eye was nearly swollen closed and his lip and cheek were split from Alejandro’s fists.
Daria stared down at the couple, her expression mostly unreadable. She looked exhausted and completely unsatisfied with her snare of Christopher Sante.
He shared the sentiment. He just wanted to get this over with and obtain aid for these blood slaves.
Water popped on from spigots in the ceiling, drenching the crowd. Immediately, the slaves tipped their heads up and raised their arms, catching the falling water in their mouths. It was probably the only drinking water they ever got.
The dose was likely in the water, since soon the slaves quieted and began to settle back onto the floor, their expressions slack and the burning need to feed their addiction dimmed in their eyes. Alejandro searched the crowd for the little boy, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“There!” Daria pointed into the throng.
Alejandro spotted him curled up on the concrete at the edge of the crowd. He nodded. “I’m going in for him.”
He went to the door and popped the lock. Slowly, he opened it. When none of the humans stirred, now sedated from the drugged water, he deemed it safe to enter. He did it quickly, scooping the limp child into his arms and backing out of the area. Daria locked the door once he was out.
The boy lolled sleepily in his arms and snuggled against his chest. He met Daria’s stricken face over the top of his head. “He’ll be okay.”
She glanced at Sante with a gaze made of acid. “Yes, he will. Now.”
Outside the building came the sounds of commotion—shouting, pulse shots fired in hard blasts of air—and the noise of many approaching vehicles.
He and Daria moved toward the door, pulsers at the ready. It was probably the ABI and the GBC answering their summons.
Without Sante in command, they’d likely had no trouble knocking down the dome’s defenses. After that, they would have been able to find him and Daria by the tracking implants they both wore.
Of course, it could be the dome guards come to rescue their lord and master, too.
Beyond the door, the clamor quieted.
“We’re looking for Alejandro Martinez and Daria Moran,” came a booming female voice.
Daria glanced at Alejandro and grinned. “That’s Lucia Collins, my superior.” She took the boy into her arms and pushed the door open, letting morning light flood the dank interior of the building. Alejandro gathered a stoic Sante and a sobbing Ari from the floor and escorted them out after her.
Outside the two previously hostile guards slumped against the building, the lights on the top of their rifles now out, signaling that their brain wave patterns had ceased.
Apparently they had tried to be heroes, but against a full force of ABI and GBC they never had a chance. Bikes and dune vehicles of both authorities surrounded the building, all weapons at the ready.
A tall black woman wearing riot gear approached them. She nodded. “Daria.” Her glance strayed to the sedated boy she held. “Pick up a stray?”
“We picked up a whole bunch. I’m really glad to see you guys.” Daria nudged Alejandro’s arm with her elbow, her arms full of little boy. “Lucia, this is Alejandro Martinez.”
He shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you,” the ABI captain responded. “You both did exceptional work.” She frowned, giving Alejandro a once-over, noting especially his bruised right hand, then glanced at Sante, who stood behind them with Ari. “What happened to him?” Of course, Lucia had already deduced that Alejandro’s fist had repeatedly made contact with Sante’s face.
Alejandro opened his mouth to explain he’d lost his temper. He could expect disciplinary action for what had happened, but Daria broke in before he could. “There are blood slaves in this building, upwards of four hundred.” She paused, indicating the child in her arms. “We found this boy and got him out, but there are likely more kids. Alejandro became a little . . . upset when he saw that.”
Lucia’s gaze skated to Sante behind them and her lip curled. “I see.” She nodded at Alejandro. “Christopher Sante needs to be more careful when he’s riding his dune bike. It’s lucky he only sustained those minor injuries during his recent accident. It could have been worse.” Her expression turned dark. “Good thing where he’s going there won’t be any dune bikes to ride.”
“I appreciate that,” Alejandro answered.
Lucia nodded. “You both did a great job here,” she finished. “The ABI is indebted to you.”
“Have you tracked down Richard Templeton?” Daria asked right away, not bothering to even pretend to care about the praise. “Like I told you on the call, he sent Brandon Nichols in to kill his daughter so he could blame the death on Christopher Sante and garner sympathy for his cause.”
“He’s a powerful man, but we’re working on it.”
“What does that mean?” Alejandro growled.
“It means we’ve got a joint ABI/GBC team on their way to his residence. They’ll give me full details once they’ve apprehended him. We need to get through his security first. The man isn’t unguarded. Don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere, Alejandro. We’ll get him.”
“Christopher Sante would like to offer you a full confession for the murders of Julia Harding, Vincent Almeda, Trudy Horowitz, and Stephen Miller. Brandon Nichols is in the southwest part of the dome, in a sandy area,” Alejandro said. “His body needs to be picked up.” He hooked a thumb toward the building behind them. “The blood slaves in there need food, water, decent clothing, respect . . . help for their addiction. They need all that pronto.”
Lucia nodded. “We’re bringing in a special team for the blood slaves. The professionals will sedate them, load them into transport units, and have them into the city before noon. They’ll all be placed in rehabilitation and their families will be notified of their whereabouts.”
“Also,” Daria passed a hand over her weary-looking face, “there’s carmin in the teddy bear factory. Loads of it. There are probably plants somewhere around here, too. Have fun.”
Lucia cocked an eyebrow. “Teddy bear factory?”
Daria nodded. “Not just a teddy bear factory, Lucia. It was a cover. Come on, you don’t really believe Christopher Sante would be involved in something so wholesome? I suspected from day one he’d subverted it into something dark. He stuck the carmin in the teddy bears’ stomachs.”
Her gaze flicked
to Sante, where the guards had taken possession of him like he was some dangerous snake ready to bite them.
“Good instincts.”
“Not really. I was right about that, but I wasn’t right about everything where Sante was concerned.” She shook her head. “Anyway, obtain the records and follow the leads. If you keep it quiet, this could be a major carmin arrest.” Daria paused. “Maybe I should head it up—”
“You’re taking a vacation, Daria, and you’re damn well going to enjoy it. We’ll take care of the carmin factory.”
“Vacation? Yeah, that sounds good, too.” She rubbed her temple. “Before that, though, I need a thorough background check on a Chosen male named Carlos Hernadez and a Chosen female named Eleanor Matthews. I need a PComp and I need the information to the PComp by morning.”
Lucia fished two small PComp units from her pocket. “I brought one for each of you. I’ll have the information sent to you the first chance I get, Daria.” She handed them over and spread her hands. “Is there anything else we should know?”
Daria looked at Alejandro. “Carmin, check. Blood slaves, check. Sante’s confession, check.” She paused and licked her lips and glanced at Ari, who hovered near Sante. “I need Ari Templeton protected. She’s traumatized and hates me for betraying her confidence. She probably won’t let me.”
“A female would be preferable, I would make a guess. I know just the agent.”
“Good. That makes me feel better.”
“We’ll get Christopher Sante and Ari Templeton taken care of. We’ll get to the teddy bear factory pronto, and take care of the blood slaves. The only thing you two need to do is get some rest. Your work here is done. Daria, take two weeks R&R and then report back to headquarters. Alejandro, your superior says you’re due back to Earth for a vacation. Take it.”
Daria licked her lips. “Thank you, but won’t you need help with Richard Templeton?”
“Our job. You’re finished.” Lucia gave her a stern look. “Understand? Take a trip back and see your mother or something. Take some time to adjust to your new status as Chosen, because you have lots of work ahead of you. I would not be surprised to see a promotion in your future.”
Daria nodded. “As you wish. One more thing, I would watch the locals. They’re loyal.”
Lucia nodded. “We’ll move carefully. Now, both of you, go.”
“And . . .” Daria drew a breath before continuing. “This commune is a good place but for the corruption of its leaders. No one but a handful knew about the blood slaves or the carmin. I would recommend the dome be allowed to continue to operate. I’m checking out Carlos Hernadez and Eleanor Matthews to see if they can take over in Christopher Sante’s stead. If those two check out clean, they might be good choices.”
Lucia pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’ll take the issue under advisement. It may not be up to us, but I value your judgment and if you think this place should continue to run I’ll do what I can to see it does.”
Daria looked relieved. “Thank you. There are people here that call it home.”
“Consider the issue looked after.” She threw up her hands. “Now both of you get the hell out of here and get some rest! That’s an order.”
Alejandro and Daria shook Lucia’s hand and turned away, allowing the captain to do her job.
Lucia barked commands and around twenty ABI agents mounted their vehicles for the factory. More agents poured into the building behind them.
From a distance, Sante, bracketed by officers, viewed the scene. Like Daria, his expression was unreadable.
Ari hovered near him, talking with a female ABI officer. Her gaze didn’t waver from her former lover for a moment. She balanced on the balls of her feet, leaning in his direction. The female officer kept a restraining hand on her upper arm. Ari’s face reflected her emotions like an advertisement. Confusion. Betrayal. Love. Shock. Her visage was an ever-changing tapestry.
Daria sighed and turned toward Alejandro. “I’m going to head back to the apartment. I’ll sleep for the day and head out at twilight. One last day.” They had to switch their days and nights around, since they were leaving the dome and its artificial light. She glanced up at him, and he caught a bit of hope in her eyes. “You coming?”
One last day.
“Yes. I’m coming.” Daria would leave him in a few short hours and he would have to let her go. In the meantime, he’d take everything she had to give him.
They turned away to find their bikes. Ari glanced at Alejandro and Daria both in turn, but wouldn’t hold their gazes. Pain flickering across her face, she just returned her gaze to Sante.
Beside him, Daria’s breathing hitched.
“It has to be this way,” he said softly. “You knew it would happen. Ari might come around in time, but right now she views you as a betrayer and the cause of her current pain.”
“I know. Doesn’t make it easy.”
Just as they mounted their bikes, the pulse fire began.
30
PULSE fire always made Daria’s eardrums pop. The two shots came from her immediate left and momentarily blew out her hearing on that side completely.
Alejandro jumped from his bike and onto her, rolling her to the ground and beneath the ample protection of his big body. From beneath him, she raised her head to see what was happening.
An unknown man dressed in an ABI guard’s uniform—because surely he couldn’t actually be ABI—had shot in the direction of Christopher Sante, hitting both guards to either side of him.
Daria lay stunned and staring, watching the shooter shift his aim a little. Realization bloomed like a poisonous plant within her mind. Sante wasn’t his target.
It was Ari.
She pushed up from under Alejandro, understanding the guard meant to kill Ari, yet knowing she was too late to stop him.
Just as the man squeezed off another shot, Sante moved with the lightning fast reflexes of an older Chosen. He looped his bound hands around Ari’s neck and pivoted her. From Daria’s vantage, it looked like a dance move, an embrace. He hugged her, turned her, showed the assassin his back.
And took the shot meant for her.
Alejandro launched himself from Daria in the same moment Sante crumpled to the ground, the nerves of the older Chosen undoubtedly fried from the direct pulse blast. Daria would bet anything the setting had been on synap-cease.
With a loud growl, Alejandro tackled the fake guard. They struggled for possession of the weapon as Daria scrambled toward the fighting pair, looking for a way to help Alejandro. They were locked together on the ground, the weapon between them.
Another pulse shot rang out. Both men went still.
Alejandro wasn’t wearing protective gear.
“No!” Daria’s heart stopped beating. Oh, please, god.
In that one moment her entire life crashed and burned. Something hard twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t lose Alejandro.
“No,” she whispered, and then crawled to the two entangled men, oblivious to the commotion around her. In the background she could hear Ari wailing, Lucia shouting commands.
Her fingers closed around Alejandro’s arm and she pulled with all her strength to roll his massive weight to the side, off the assassin. Alejandro’s arms came around her as soon as she touched him, enveloping her. Together they both rolled away from the motionless killer.
Daria let out a sob of profound relief as Alejandro cradled her against him on the ground. “I’m okay,” he whispered over and over. “Daria, I’m okay.”
She closed her eyes and blacked everything out for a moment, reveling in the thump of his healthy heart, the heat of his body, and the comforting scent of him. She smiled. The world would be so much worse without Alejandro Martinez in it. Her world would be so much worse.
“Daria,” called Lucia. “Alejandro!”
They untangled themselves and stood. The killer lay sprawled on the ground, a pulse-fire wound singeing his chest. He’d been a human male with no shot at survival at
point-blank range and with the weapon’s setting on synap-cease.
Daria forced herself to spring back into agent mode, rushing to where Sante lay on the ground and Ari knelt beside him, sobbing and rocking his body back and forth, her hands fisting in his shirt.
Sante was clearly fried. Immortality and a lack of aging could not protect even the Chosen from synap-cease. He lay sprawled where he’d fallen, his eyes dark with death.
A lump formed in Daria’s throat, borne from so many emotions she couldn’t separate them. They formed a big ball in her gut. Christopher Sante, the man she’d sworn as her enemy, was dead . . . and he’d died protecting someone. In the millions of ways she’d imagined that going down, this was not one of them.
She knelt and took Ari against her chest. This time, the woman did not push her away. She sobbed louder, turning into her and wetting Daria’s shirt with her tears.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ari gasped.
“I’m sorry,” Daria whispered. “I wish this could have happened differently for you.” She paused. “Your father, Sante, all of it. You deserve better.”
The killer had to have been sent by her father. Richard Templeton had paid that agent to shoot Ari, or he’d planted an assassin to pose as an agent.
However, Daria guessed that when they tried to connect the dots, they wouldn’t lead back to Templeton. He’d probably lie and say it was someone with a vendetta against him, trying to kill his daughter to hurt him. Daria would make a guess he’d chosen the killer carefully. Perhaps he had family that was Chosen, or something in his past that would make it look like he’d had a reason to hate Richard Templeton and his daughter.
