The Black Tide

by Keri Arthur

  She stopped on the other side of the kitchen counter and motioned toward my hands. Only it wasn’t a simple indicator of what she wanted, but rather an unleashing of power—something I knew only because the charm on my left wrist began to burn. The fact I wasn’t once again battling to breathe meant Nuri’s magic was effectively countering Dream’s.

  Now I just had to hope that my earlier guess was true—that a major part of her physical and magical strength was being sucked away by the rifts, which in turn meant she wasn’t capable of sensing either of the charms.

  And if the quick flick of confusion that ran across her expression was anything to go by, she couldn’t.

  She frowned and then said imperiously, “Show me your palms.”

  “What? Why?” I feigned confusion even as my heart began to beat a little faster. While I was aware the scrapes had healed, I had no idea if the skin was still pink or not.

  “Show me your palms,” she repeated, voice flat and holding an edge. “Immediately.”

  “Karlinda, is all this really—” Charles began, only to stop when she cast him a steely look.

  “Why?” I said, even as I held out my hands, palms up. The skin wasn’t pink, but I batted down the quick stab of relief. I wasn’t out of the woods just yet. She grabbed my hand and quickly ran her fingers across not only the newer skin but also the old. Looking for callouses, I realized, because the woman I was pretending to be certainly wouldn’t have them.

  Thankfully, my skin was baby smooth. It might have been a long ago since I’d been a lure in enemy encampments, but both the training and the instinct for self-preservation was very, very ingrained, even when it came to such a tiny detail. My strength level had to be very, very low for it to be otherwise.

  But while my hands had healed without scarring, I couldn’t be so sure that the same could be said about the rest of my wounds—especially the one caused by Branna’s wooden bullet.

  Dream released me, and it took every ounce of control to not wipe away the feel of her touch on my nightdress.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Chancellor,” I said. “Why did you want to look at my hands?”

  I was well aware of the why—she’d found the spot where her magic had snapped and I’d scraped my hands open on the sidewalk. But it was an obvious question to ask, and it would be damn dangerous to do anything other than the obvious right now. Especially when the soldier hadn’t yet relaxed his stance.

  She waved a hand, but this time it was a mere gesture rather than an indication of another spell being aimed my way. “It was merely a precaution.”

  “As the man with the gun still aimed at my face is a precaution?” I bit back. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Chancellor—”

  “Please,” she said. “Mistakes do occasionally happen in the quest to make this city safe, and this is obviously one of them. I sincerely apologize for the stress we have caused you.”

  Her apology was many things, but it certainly wasn’t sincere. But I bit down on my instinctive reply and watched as she nodded at the guard. He immediately spun around and walked out. It didn’t make me feel any safer. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect, if only because her suspicion still spun around me, as sharp as her energy.

  “I shall leave you and Charles to talk over—”

  “No, you won’t,” I said calmly. “You can take dear Charles with you. I have no desire to be in his presence right now.”

  “Catherine, please,” he said. “My actions were born out of a desire to see you safe—”

  “That does not excuse you all breaking into my apartment and treating me like a common criminal,” I said. “So you can see yourself out of here, and I might—might—consider talking to you tomorrow, once I have calmed down.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he nevertheless turned and walked toward the door. I followed; a quick glance at the scanner showed that it hadn’t been damaged in any way. They’d obviously used some sort of override key to get in.

  I nevertheless asked, “Am I still able to lock my door? Or does whatever method you used to get in mean I now have to seek out someone to repair it?”

  Dream glanced over her shoulder. Though her expression gave away little, her eyes glittered with suspicion. I may have been unaffected by her magic and passed the touch test, but she still wasn’t convinced about my identity. And that meant she’d be keeping a close eye on my movements from here on in.

  “The door wasn’t broken,” she said, but didn’t bother explaining why. She continued down the hall into the waiting elevator.

  Charles paused and said, “I’ll ring tomorrow, then?”

  “You can certainly try.”

  With that, I hit the door release to cut off any reply he might have made. Then I took a deep breath and leaned my forehead against the door. Damn, that was altogether too close.

  But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Not when Dream was so suspicious of me.

  I took another deep breath and called Cat and Bear. I couldn’t make any untoward moves for the next twenty-four hours at least, but Nuri and Jonas needed to know that Dream was impersonating the chancellor on either a full-time or part-time basis. And while she was here in that guise, where was the real chancellor? Was she dead, or merely knocked out?

  And did that mean Jonas was also right—that Dream was impersonating Hedda Lang only part of the time? But how could a situation like that even work on any sort of long-term basis?

  I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. There were so many damn questions, and in reality, we were still no closer to getting those answers or stopping the bitch.

  My two ghosts appeared. They buzzed around me, their excitement levels high, both of them speaking at the same time and so fast that I had no idea what they were actually saying.

  I waited until they’d calmed down, and then said, “I’ll get you to repeat all that because I didn’t even catch half of it.”

  Their giggles followed me as I walked across to the autocook to grab a coffee. It appeared almost instantly, and was so hot it steamed. Even so, it didn’t do a lot to chase away the tiredness that still rode me. I punched in an order for a steak and vegetables, and, once I was propped up on a seat, said, “Right, tell me again what happened when I left?”

  Jonas and his people reentered the vampires’ cavern, Bear said. There was a big fight and lots of gunfire.

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  One of Jonas’s people was killed, two were hurt, Cat said. But most of the opposition died.

  “Including the man in charge—the one with the scar under his eye?”

  He was injured but died not long after Jonas started interviewing him, Bear said.

  “From his injuries?”

  No, from a poison capsule, Jonas said. He was very annoyed.

  I could imagine. “Are they on their way back?”

  Jonas is, along with the injured. The rest remain to guard the facility.

  “He surely can’t expect eight or so mercenaries to be able to hold such a vast complex.”

  No, Bear said. Nuri gathers a larger force, but Jonas said it is difficult given they cannot yet involve the corps or anyone official.

  Because they weren’t sure how far Dream’s evil tentacles reached. “What are they doing about the tunnel borer?”

  They shut it down and locked away the men who were controlling it, Cat said. As near as they can figure, it was only fifty or so kilometers outside of Central.

  Meaning they’d come close—so damn close—to achieving their goal. And while we were now safe from a tunneled attack, it really didn’t mean anything. If Dream did have a plan B that involved the lights, then everything we’d achieved up until now would be for naught. We needed to uncover how far the tendrils of her evil had spread, and we needed to do it fast if we wanted to save this city.

  “Did the soldier mention anything about Central’s lights?”

  Jonas never had the chance to ask.

  “Damn.” I grabbed my steak
out of the autocook and dug out some cutlery from a nearby drawer. “Was he able to get anything at all from him?”

  Little more than his name and rank.

  Which was no damn help at all. I concentrated on demolishing my meal and then, once I was done, said, “Bear, I need you to go back to Jonas and tell him Dream was here in the guise of the chancellor, but I don't know if this was a one-off event or if she’s doing it more often. Tell him I wasn’t in a position to act against her, and that I think she suspects who I am.”

  If that is so, Bear said, mental tone concerned, it might be best to leave.

  “I can’t, because there’s not enough time left to set up a new identity or to get someone else inside.” Besides I knew—better than anyone—just how difficult it could be to track a body shifter. After all, I’d escaped dangerous situations more than a couple of times by altering my form and my scent to that of another.

  But the strength and presence of mind required to pull off multiple changes over such a long period of time was finite—even for someone who’d been designed to do just that—and Dream certainly hadn’t been. Sooner or later, she would trip up. We just had to be sure we were near enough to take advantage of it.

  And to do that, I had to remain near Charles.

  What about me? Cat said, as Bear raced away.

  “I need you to keep watch. I have to rest and recover, but I don’t trust that Dream or her people won’t come busting in here again.”

  I didn’t actually think she would—not tonight, anyway. She was more likely to have my every move watched instead, but in this particular case, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  No one will get near this place, Cat assured me. Not without me seeing them.

  “Thanks, Cat.” I drained the last of my coffee, then dumped everything in the auto wash and headed back upstairs. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, and this time nothing and no one disturbed me.

  I woke to insistent buzzing. I blinked, trying to place the noise and not having much success.

  “Cat? Bear? Everything all right out there?”

  They both whisked in, neither of them in any way alarmed, which in turn had me relaxing. Whatever the noise was, it obviously wasn’t any sort of threat.

  The comms unit buzzes, Bear said. Charles’s face appears on it. He looks increasingly unhappy.

  “How often has he rung?”

  This is the fifth time this morning, Cat said.

  He seems very determined to talk to you, Bear added.

  “That he does.”

  Are you going to talk to him or continue to ignore him? Cat asked curiously.

  “I’ll talk to him, but not immediately.”

  In fact, I needed to do a whole lot more than talk, if only because I needed to know what had gone on between him and Dream when they’d both left the apartment. I just couldn’t be seen forgiving him too easily. That would only confirm Dream’s suspicions about me.

  I slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom to check the state of my various wounds. For the most part they’d healed without leaving a mark, but—as I feared—the entry point for the wooden bullet was a somewhat puckered mess. I narrowed my gaze, imagined it smoothed out, and reached for the shifting magic. My shoulder tingled, and the flesh instantly began to rearrange and to some extent smooth out, but the scar still remained visible. It might be little more than a white blob, but that would be enough to stir Charles’s curiosity, given how intimately he now knew Catherine’s body.

  I tried to erase the mark a second time, but once again failed. It seemed I was stuck with it.

  The incessant buzzing stopped. I took a shower, got dressed, and then headed down to grab something to eat. I’d barely finished my omelet when the nearby comms unit came alive and Charles’s face once again appeared. This time, I answered.

  “Charles,” I greeted, voice cool. “What can I do for you?”

  “I ring to beg forgiveness for my invasion of your privacy.” Though his tone was contrite, there was an odd gleam in his eyes. It was both regretful and angry, which was rather odd. But maybe he simply didn’t like being forced into making an apology. Many of the shifters I’d encountered in the past had been like that—they saw it as an affront to their pride, for some weird reason. “Though it came from a place of genuine concern, I can understand why you were so angry.”

  “I woke up to a gun being pointed at my face,” I replied evenly. “That’s not exactly something anyone wants to experience in their own home, Charles.”

  “I know, but Karlinda insisted she accompany me and I couldn’t refuse.” He paused, and half shrugged. “I have let her know how unacceptable the whole situation was. If you wish to lodge a formal complaint, I will not gainsay you.”

  “That is very kind of you.”

  My tone was sarcastic, but his expression suggested he didn’t catch it. “Can I take you out to dinner as an apology?”

  I hesitated. While the need to catch Dream and put a final end to her machinations was a pulse growing ever stronger, there was also a deepening urge for caution. The suicide of the soldier Jonas had been questioning suggested Dream’s net was not only wide, but also very loyal, and we needed to find and destroy all its tentacles just as much as we needed to stop the woman who controlled it. Because some of those tentacles had to be working within the power grid—why else would Penny have mentioned the lights going down if Dream hadn’t found some means of making it happen?

  Nuri—or rather, her kin, given she was still considered an outcast in this city and, as such, had limitations on what she could and couldn’t do—might be working to expose all of Dream’s agents, but they needed time.

  And that, I feared, was the one thing none of us really had.

  Still... only fools rushed in, as the old saying went.

  “You can,” I replied. “But not tonight. I’m still very upset at you, Charles, and would not be pleasant company, I’m afraid.”

  Frustration and anger momentarily flitted across his face before he got it under control, and instinct stirred. Had Dream asked him to give me a more thorough examination? It was a distinct possibility, especially given Jonas’s earlier warning that Charles was, above all else, a government man. He had no idea Dream had usurped the chancellor’s identity, and he’d admitted that he did not have the power—or, I suspected, the will—to go against her.

  If that was the case, then I’d have to keep my wits about me, and simply use my seeking skills via touch rather than anything deeper. I couldn’t completely erase the scar in my shoulder, and Dream would undoubtedly know its cause.

  “Tomorrow then,” he said, tone conciliatory despite the frustrated gleam in his eyes. “Shall we meet at Zendigah’s at, say, seven?”

  Zendigah’s was an upmarket restaurant on Second, and a favorite of Charles’s. It was also well frequented, which at least offered some protection against anything untoward happening while we there.

  “That would be lovely,” I said coolly. “I’ll see you then.”

  I signed off and then walked across to the large windows. Light and sunshine caressed my skin with warmth but did little to erase the chill gathering around me. Trouble was coming. I could feel it with every psychic piece of me, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do to avoid it. Indeed, the annoying inner voice suggested, avoiding it was possibly the worst thing I could do.

  I rubbed my arms and studied the street below. There were plenty of men and women going about their business, and none of them snagged at my senses. But I had no doubt that there would be watchers down there somewhere. I’d given Dream plenty of time to put them in place.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” I headed out the door and strode toward the elevator.

  Where are we going? Bear asked. The market again?

  A smile tugged at my lips. The last time we’d gone there, they’d spent their time chasing each other through the many higgledy-piggledy rows of textiles, meats, and produce, and had ended up upsetti
ng an entire cart, sending oranges rolling everywhere.

  “I’m not sure someone of Catherine’s stature would visit such a place. But we might head down to Seven Sins and grab a macaroon.” Or two. I might as well make use of the credits while I still had them.

  Macaroon? Cat said. What’s that?

  I hesitated, wondering how to describe something my ghost had never seen let alone eaten. “It’s similar to a sweet biscuit, only it’s thin and crunchy on the outside, softer than a cloud on the inside, and the absolutely most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  Sounds interesting, Bear said, though his mental tones were uncertain.

  But that wasn’t really surprising, given that sweet things and déchet weren’t always compatible. Our taste buds tended to lean toward the bitter end of the scale—a result, no doubt, of the fact that there’d been nothing resembling sweets or desserts offered to déchet in the military bunkers, and they’d certainly been in scarce supply in most of the shifter camps I’d been sent to during the war.

  I wish there was a way I could share the experience with you both, I said silently, as I stepped out onto the street. Because they do taste amazing.

  Could we link? Cat said. It lets us share sight—maybe it might now let us share taste.

  I paused on the step and glanced around, feigning uncertainty as to which way to go, when I was in fact looking for anyone appearing overly interested in my appearance. There didn’t appear to be, but I guessed Dream—in her Hedda Lang guise—did have the entire corps division under her control. They weren’t likely to make such a simple mistake.

  We can try. I headed left. Could you both keep watch, and see if you can spot someone following me?

  They buzzed around me excitedly and then whisked away. I rather suspected everyone who had the temerity to be walking in the same direction for more than a dozen steps would now be getting a ghostly once-over.

  I unhurriedly made my way through the various crosswalks, and after fifteen minutes Cat said, We’ve found him.

  Well done, both of you. What does he look like?

  Mean, Bear said. He’s got black hair, a big nose, and small lips. He’s dressed in a white tunic like everyone else, but he has an earpiece.