The Black Tide

by Keri Arthur

  I knocked the driver out. He still breathes.

  “Good,” Jonas said, as he appeared from around the other side of the ATV. “Because I need to question him. How bad is that wound on your arm, Tiger?”

  I glanced at it. The bullet had gone in and out, and the subsequent wound was as sore as hell. But nothing vital had been hit and the bleeding had already begun to ease. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “And, as we so recently discovered, you’d say that even on the point of death.” His tone was amused. “Let’s go question Cat’s prisoner.”

  I fell in step beside him. “Are these men from Central, do you think?”

  “They could be, but they’re not rangers, and the vehicles aren’t military.”

  I frowned at the scooter we were approaching. “They look military.”

  “Yes, but I’d say they’re decommissioned stock.”

  “Who else but the military would have use for them? They’re not powerful enough for haulage, and they’d be useless as people movers given they can’t carry more than eight. Besides, they were built for speed rather than comfort.”

  “Vehicles like these are often used in food production areas, especially in the livestock zones, where there’s a need to do a daily check.” He stepped onto the ramp and strode inside. Cat’s energy danced around us—a dangerous action given the metal bar she was still holding.

  Jonas ducked without comment and pulled the driver off the control panel. There was a nasty-looking cut on the left side of his head and blood running down the side of his face and into his beard. His skin had a grayish tinge and his breathing was labored. He wasn’t long for this world, I suspected.

  Jonas glanced at the name inscribed on the man’s uniform and then said in a commanding tone, “Grant, report. What happened here?”

  The man groaned and tried to lift his head. It rolled back against the seat’s headrest instead.

  “Grant, this is an order. Report immediately.”

  “Ambush,” he mumbled. “Unknown casualties.”

  “And the target?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Can you make it back to base?”

  “Need help.”

  “And you’ll get it. But I need the coords, soldier.”

  He reeled off a set of numbers and Jonas glanced at me. “That’s not Central. It’s Carleen.”

  “None of the rifts there are large enough—” I stopped.

  If Dream could create transportation rifts, why couldn’t she alter their size to suit her needs? The one stationed over the bones of the Carleen ghosts was certainly growing, and while she couldn’t risk using that one for vehicle transport given it was linked to the basement under Government House, that didn’t mean she couldn’t alter the others.

  “Which means,” he said, voice as flat as his expression, “they might have come from the same place Penny is now held.”

  “Penny isn’t being held,” I said gently. “She went there willingly.”

  And had stepped through me to do it.

  She cannot be forgiven for that, Cat commented. It was a betrayal.

  Yes, it was. And yet, I couldn’t condemn her. Not when she’d let me live when she could have very easily done otherwise. Cat and Bear would have protected me with everything they had, but not even they could have won out against the sheer number of vampires who’d been in Chaos that night if Penny had ordered them to take my life.

  And given her link with them—along with the fact she’d known they were about to attack Chaos and had warned no one—I very much suspected she was more than capable of controlling them.

  Or soon would be.

  Anguish briefly touched Jonas’s expression, but was just as swiftly erased by the mask of emptiness. He returned his attention to the injured man. “That’s too far, soldier. The closest medical facilities are at Warehouse Five—”

  “Not authorized—”

  “Call sign, soldier,” Jonas snapped.

  A groan escaped. “Echo three-two.”

  “Is there a transport entrance?”

  “Never been there—” Grant’s voice faded and his head dropped forward.

  Jonas pressed to fingers against Grant’s neck. “Unconscious, not dead.”

  “I take it you’re planning to use this man as a means of getting close to the warehouse?”

  “I can’t think of another way of getting into that place easily—not without resorting to your skills. And, as we’ve already discussed, we may need those to get back out.” He undid the driver’s harness, then grabbed him under the arms and dragged him free of the seat. “You want to get our kit out of the ATV?”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “The ATV? Blow it up.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Didn’t you promise to bring it back in one piece?”

  “I did,” he said, rather cheerfully, “And not for one instant did Franki believe me. Which is why she demanded the replacement.”

  “Or payment in kind.”

  He glanced at me, and there was something in his eyes—a heat that spoke to not just to the part of me designed to attract and be attracted to shifters, but also the part that should not be there.

  Heart. Emotion.

  “However much affection I still hold for her, she is the past.” His voice was soft. “I learned a long time ago to never look back, but rather chase the future. Especially when the possibilities on offer are worth chasing.”

  I half smiled. “Or not. You have no idea how staid I can really be.”

  “Which is all part of the exploration process.” He placed Grant across the two rear seats and strapped him in. “Is there anyone left alive in the scooter you took out?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ll go over and strip the uniforms from the two who are the closest match to us, and meet you back here.”

  “How do you plan to blow the ATV up?”

  “I scrounged another RTX brick from my kin—it’s in our kit. Set it for ten minutes.”

  I nodded and headed out. He moved back to the control panel and, as I walked down the ramp, placed a mayday call. His voice was a close enough imitation of Grant’s to make it believable.

  Once I’d emptied the contents of the ATV’s two storage bins into a couple of carryalls, I bent and stuck the RTX out of sight under the control panel—just in case someone happened by before the bomb went off—then grabbed everything else and walked back to the scooter. Jonas followed me in a few seconds later. His face was now not only covered with a whole lot more grime, but blood that wasn’t his.

  “Cover?” I asked.

  He nodded and handed me a uniform. “This belongs to the commander. You’ll probably have to roll up the sleeves until you shift shape, as she was a good deal taller than you.”

  I hadn’t really taken all that much notice; aside from the fact both she and her men had been sitting, they’d also been nothing more than targets—which perhaps meant there was more déchet soldier in me than I’d ever dared admit.

  Jonas turned around to give me some measure of privacy as we both changed. It really was ridiculous for someone like me to feel any sort of awkwardness in the presence of a man, but I guess this was the first time in all my long years I’d actually been more than just sexually interested in someone.

  “Did Warehouse Five respond to the mayday call?” I rolled up my sleeves as I followed him to the front of the scooter and sat in the codriver seat.

  He nodded as he punched buttons, first closing the door and then starting up the engines. As the red sand plumed around us, he said, “I think they must have sought permission from either Dream or from whatever base these scooters came from, as it took a few minutes to get approval.”

  “Even with permission, they’re going to be suspicious of us and on high alert.”

  “Indeed. But I have a solution.” He reached into his pocket and took out two bloody RFID chips held within separate plastic containers.

  I raised my
eyebrows. “They sort out the problem of me getting into the facility, but you can’t alter your appearance without help from Nuri’s magic.”

  “No, but the man I took the chip from is roughly my coloring and height, and with all the grime, I should get a pass.”

  Our mission was in deep trouble if he didn’t. “Do you know which one is which?”

  “Of course.” He shifted a grip slightly, revealing a small X marked on the top on one. “There should be enough false skin left from the kit you took into the sand base to cover us both.”

  I nodded and rose to get the kit. Once the scooter was off the ground and the coordinates punched in, he offered me his arm. I carefully located his RFID chip then placed the stolen one on top of it and sprayed on the false skin to hold it in place. I repeated the process with mine, then leaned back in the seat and glanced at the GPS. Thirteen minutes more until our destination.

  “Did they give any indication which entrance we’re being directed to?”

  “It won’t be the entrance the warehouse itself uses. It’d cause the sort of interest they’re trying to avoid if an old military vehicle carrying a wounded soldier docked there.”

  “It will also make it impossible to have the sort of lockdown we’ll probably face.”

  “If they don't place us under either a full watch or in a secure area, I'll be very surprised.”

  “Getting in is not going to be the problem—getting out will be.” I grimaced. “But I guess we can worry about that when we get to that point.”

  He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Did you approach all missions in such a haphazard manner?”

  I half smiled. “It was hardly practical to plan anything in my previous line of work.”

  The amusement faded from his expression. “How many of your targets did you kill during the war?”

  “How many did you?” I countered. “It was a war, Jonas. The only difference between you and I—aside from being on opposite sides—is the fact you had a choice in everything you did. I did not.”

  He was silent for a moment, then said, “I never really thought of it like that.”

  “Few did,” I said. “The shifters have spent decades blaming the weapons for the atrocities they committed during the war when you should have focused your anger and hate on those who were controlling said weapons and pulling the trigger.”

  “All of which is true.” A wry smile touched his lips. “But it would hardly have fostered goodwill between humans and shifters in the years afterward.”

  “No, but if people had taken a moment to think rather than react at the end of the war, you might now have a fighting force capable of standing up to the might of the Others.”

  And saved us from death in the process, Cat said.

  “And that is something I really wish I had the capacity to change.” Regret was evident in his tone. “But it was a decision the rangers were never consulted on.”

  “And one you would not have changed even if you had been,” I countered.

  “In truth, no. But I would have argued for a cleaner death.” He glanced at me, expression grim. “Believe that, if nothing else.”

  I did believe, if only because he'd witnessed firsthand what Draccid could do when the gas had been used against his men during an attack against a human military base. However much he might have wanted revenge for both that situation and others, he would also have known there was a multitude of ordinary humans within our bunker—people who helped with day-to-day operations and kept the base running. He might have a deep, instinctive hatred for déchet, but he'd never been so blinded by it that he'd so wantonly and cruelly inflict such a death on those who were only doing their job.

  Silence fell between us. As the minutes ticked by, a dark blot appeared on the horizon, growing even larger as we drew closer. It was a long building that was at least four stories high, and had a huge number five emblazoned on one section of its dark roof. It appeared to be made of the same metal as the curtain wall that protected Central, and I couldn’t see any ground-level entrances. In fact, there didn't seem to be any entry points at all, which suggested they were either hidden or that we were approaching from the wrong angle.

  It was unfortunate that our prisoner had never been inside the warehouse. He might be human, but given the restriction against killing them had apparently disappeared, I might have been able to use my seeking skills to pick up a sense of the layout so that we wouldn’t be going in blind.

  But, as usual, it looked like we’d have to do things the hard way.

  “I'm not liking the look of that place,” I said. “And I can’t shake the growing sense that things will go very, very wrong inside.”

  “And I'm thinking you’re right.” He studied the building for a couple of minutes and then said, “I'll contact Nuri and see if we've anyone close enough to provide a diversion.”

  “I didn't think she wanted to risk any more people than necessary?”

  “She doesn't, but she won't be pleased if we get in to that warehouse and can't get out.”

  “Any good commander knows that that's sometimes the price of gaining information.”

  “Yes, but in this case, she'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive.” His gaze met mine. “The wind whispers of a future without hope if you are not part of the forthcoming battle.”

  My eyebrows rose. “So now I'm responsible for the fate of a world? When in Rhea did that happen?”

  He shrugged. “The future is never static. It changes as events change.”

  “And the missing children?”

  “She didn't mention them, so I presume her prediction hasn't altered.”

  “Marvelous.” Not that I intended to stop searching even if their fate had altered. If the future was always changing, it meant there was always hope.

  Jonas didn't reply, and the slight buzz of energy running across the back of my thoughts said that he was in contact with Nuri. I wasn't entirely sure what sort of diversion she could arrange at such short notice, but if it only distracted the guards within that building for a few minutes, it might very well mean the difference between getting out or not.

  Living or not.

  As the black building began to dominate the horizon, the radio came to life. “Vehicle approaching from the old Central Road, please identify yourself.”

  Jonas gave the call sign and then added, “We have an injured soldier on board and have received prior approval for approach and landing.”

  “Please hold position and wait for confirmation.”

  Jonas placed the scooter in hover mode and looked at me. “You’d better shift shape.”

  I climbed out of the seat and moved to the rear of the vehicle, well out of the sight of anyone who might be watching us through the front windows. I didn’t want to expend too much energy on a full change, so I simply added a little to my height and then altered my face just enough so that at first glance it matched the commander’s sharp features. Then I moved back.

  Jonas’s studied me for a second and then said, “That should pass. Ready?”

  “As I can be.” I hesitated, my gaze sweeping the rather ominous-looking building ahead. “But my wing-it approach to planning might not be the best mode of operation right now.”

  “It’s not like we have another choice.” Amusement touched his expression. “And between the two of us and our ghostly friends, I’m sure we'll figure out something.”

  There are grenades in the rear locker, Bear said, his tone hopeful. I can blow more things up.

  And there's also another metal bar, Cat added. It doesn't take much energy to whack heads.

  I laughed, as did Jonas. It was a warm, rich sound that filled the air and momentarily broke the gathering tension.

  “Echo three-two,” the metallic voice said. “Confirmation has been given. Please prepare vehicle for auto-guidance.”

  Jonas pushed a few buttons and then said, “Guidance is yours, control.”

  The scooter lurched slightly as the trac
tor beam latched on, and then slowly moved forward. Jonas rose and moved to the back of the scooter.

  “We'd better conceal as many weapons as possible. I don't think we'll be allowed to carry within that building.”

  I rose and walked over to the second carryall. “And if they have body scanners in the building?”

  “Then the game will be up regardless.” His voice was blunt. “No amount of dirt and blood will hide the fact my DNA is very different to that of the RFID's owner.”

  “True.” I took off my utilities belt, undid the coverall, and then strapped it back around my waist. After clipping on a number of handguns, a couple of knives, and the dart gun I’d used in the sand base, I did the coverall back up. The commander had been a much larger woman than me, so even though I now matched her height, the coverall remained loose enough that the belt and its cargo weren’t immediately obvious.

  I glanced out the front windshield and saw that we were now so close to the warehouse that I could see the heaving pitting that scarred the wall’s black surface. That wasn’t weather damage; it was war, which meant this place had been around far longer than I’d presumed.

  As the vehicle turned and was lifted up the wall's steep side, I reached for another handgun and offered it, butt-first, to Jonas. “You need to shoot me.”

  He looked at the gun for a moment, and then at me, “Good idea. But it'd be best if we were both sporting wounds, otherwise we risk getting separated.”

  He took the gun, unclipped the safety, and then aimed the weapon's nose at the fleshy part of his left arm. The bullet ripped through both the uniform and his skin in short order before burying itself in the scooter's metal side not far from the door.

  As blood began to soak his sleeve, he looked at me. “Ready?”

  “Shoot me in the shoulder,” I said, bracing myself against the pain that was about to hit.

  “No.”

  “Jonas, I can heal—”

  “Yes, but we can't risk you being incapacitated for even a few minutes.”

  “But a flesh wound might not get us—”

  “I don't care. I'm not—”

  I didn't let him finish. I simply grabbed the gun, flipped it around, and did it myself. It felt like a hammer had smashed through my shoulder and the force of it had me staggering back. I braced my good hand against the side of the scooter to steady myself, then closed my eyes and sucked in air as I battled the haze of red that momentarily threatened awareness.