Spade

by S A McClure

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.” His breath tickled her skin, leaving a trail of warmth spreading from her neck downward.

  “Few have,” she replied. There was something about his tone—or was it his eyes—that made her heart flutter. He gave her a half-smile as he raised two fingers toward the bartender, who nodded and scuttled away to do whatever bidding the man had silently commanded.

  “I usually know everyone who comes here,” he pressed. His voice carried a drawl to it common among the LaRue family.

  “Maybe it’s the mask,” she responded, smirking.

  The bartender returned, bearing two large glasses with raspberry-colored wine in them. Amber sniffed at the drink. It carried notes of honey and orchids. She raised an eyebrow at him as she sipped at the wine. It was drier than she had been expecting, but ended with a sweet aftertaste.

  He leaned in close to her and wrapped his muscled arm around her waist. “No, I don’t believe so,” he whispered in her ear.

  Her left arm tingled, more insistently this time as his grip tightened. He pinned her arm against her side. The full weight of him pressed against her. She struggled to breathe as he held her close to his chest. Even as her heart raced, she couldn’t help but notice the warm, sandalwood scent of him. Wrapping her free arm around him, Amber linked her wrists together. The dual stabilizers she’d had implanted during her time on Thoth initialized, sending a jolt of energy through her body.

  Just at that moment, a cat raced across the casino. A server, laden with at least four trays of drinks stumbled over the cat and fell backwards, sending the trays into the air. Glass sprayed as the cups shattered all around them. A spikey shard lodged itself in the man’s hand. He grunted, his grip loosening slightly.

  She slipped from his grasp and immediately kneed him in the groin. His breath whooshed out of him as he gasped in pain.

  “Better luck next time,” she hissed as she slipped into the crowd of onlookers.

  She rushed past the devil-clad guard at the front of the private gambling room. He didn’t even glance at her. He was too busy pressing a cloth over the blood bubbling from a wound in his thigh.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on-end as she raced forward. The stabilizers whirred within her. They had been specially designed by Dr. Mason Weaver of Weaver Biotechnologies. He was known as the father of modern biotech—especially tech created to help NAs control and strengthen their abilities.

  Unlike other biotech companies, he was known for treating NAs fairly and respectfully. He was also known for developing the best tech in the galaxy for quality. Amber wasn’t exactly sure how they worked. She just knew that when they were both initialized, she could manipulate her “luck” beyond what she was normally capable of doing. She just hoped they wouldn’t lose their mojo now.

  The moment she passed beyond the doorway, she stumbled down several steps before regaining her balance. Torchlight flickered from sconces on the wall. The stairwell was hot and dark and smelled like burning incense as she clamored down the steps. Unlike the clean, well-lit stairs she’d traveled down with Morta only a few days before, these steps were made of worn stone. They were slick and crumbled beneath her feet. She was reticent to go down them, but didn’t see any other option.

  She knew she didn’t have much time. The stranger from the bar would be following her and, most likely, the guard as well. She quickened her pace. The stairwell just kept going. She began counting the steps. If she lost her footing now, she’d be in real danger of tumbling into the middle of whatever lay beneath her. Morta had asked for one thing: discover what the real motives of the LaRue family were. Amber had failed her. Although she knew she could explain what had happened, she didn’t want to face the disappointment in Morta’s eyes.

  Voices echoed from beneath her, too distorted to understand. She slowed her pace and pressed her back to the stone wall. The stairs ended in a narrow passageway which led forward. Not a single light was on nor a candle lit. Amber shivered again as she realized that she was alone, in a mostly deserted area of Spade, with no one to help her if her powers failed her. They had done so before; she had no doubt they’d do so again.

  Her skin tingled as she crept closer to the last step and onto the landing. The passageway had five doors attached to it, each with their own symbol carved into a plaque mounted on the door. She had never seen anything like it.

  She trailed her fingers over the smooth wood as she examined the carvings. The lines flowed together in intricate patterns that she found it difficult to believe anyone could make such beauty without the aid of a creative augmentation.

  A soft clicking sound drew her attention towards one door in particular. A single line etched into the middle of a triangle was engraved in the door. Leaves wound themselves around the line, giving the design an earthy feel. The symbol felt familiar to her, yet she couldn’t remember exactly where she had seen it before.

  Amber pressed her ear against the door. The clicking sounded almost mechanical, yet the longer she listened to it, the more irregular it became. There was a loud clang, like metal slamming into metal. Startled, she jumped, and her fist slammed into the door as she attempted to steady herself. She panted hard as her nerves buzzed.

  “Hello?” a voice whispered from the other side of the door. “Is there someone there?”

  Amber stepped backwards. Her heart galloped as she tried to determine what to do next.

  “If someone’s there, please talk to me.”

  The voice faltered. Amber turned back to face the door. She knew she shouldn’t risk responding. She was there for one purpose: scope out the LaRue family before the negotiation meeting. That was it. Still, there was a plaintiveness to the tone that she couldn’t ignore. She knew what it was like to feel trapped and alone. Of course, this could all be a trap. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe everything had happened coincidentally. She hesitated.

  “Please.” The voice trembled on the word and Amber’s heart quaked.

  Even through the door, Amber heard the prolonged sigh the person made. She flexed her fingers, one foot headed back the way she’d come and the other pointed towards the door.

  There was a shuffling sound followed by a loud bang, as if someone were pounding their head against the door.

  “Stupid. I can’t believe how stupid I am. No one’s coming to help me,” the person on the other side of the door wailed.

  The voice cracked, and Amber could imagine the tears spilling down the speaker’s cheeks. She knew what it was to be alone and afraid. Her fingers trailed over the scars that stretched from her wrist to her elbow on her right arm. No one should have to live through the kind of pain caused by not having someone protecting you.

  She crept toward the door and placed her palm flat against it. The person on the other side continued to berate themselves. Their words were so full of sorrow and defeat that Amber found herself wanting to put an end to the person’s suffering.

  “Hello,” she whispered.

  Silence. Amber swore she would have been able to hear a pin drop in the middle of a haystack as she waited for the other person to respond.

  Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the other person erupted into a stream of chatter.

  “You really are there, aren’t you? I knew it. I swear I did. It’s so good to hear another person’s voice. What’s your name? Mine’s Mindy. Well, actually it’s Minerva, but I don’t like that name, so I tell everyone to call me Mindy. Can you talk more, please? Oh, it really is so good to hear your voice. You have simply no idea. Truly. What did you say your name was again?”

  Amber snapped her lips shut and took a step back. Her palms turned clammy and sweat beaded on her brow. How was she supposed to respond to the complete need in Mindy’s tone? She took another step back, trying to create distance and her foot slipped on the stone. A loud squelching sound ripped through the air.

  “Please don’t go!” the voice shouted. “I swear I won’t talk so much
. Promise. It’s just been so long since anyone’s come here to talk to me. It’s always robots that deliver my food. Never humans. And they never stay to chat. Even when I know they’re AIs, they never stay.”

  Mindy sniffled loudly. Amber swallowed hard. This was not part of the plan. Her heart beat rapidly. Dizziness swelled within her and she couldn’t think straight. The image of two bodies clinging to one another, their skin covered in sores flashed before her eyes. Amber closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on her breathing. That was a long time ago. It wasn’t real. Not now anyway.

  When she opened her eyes again, she knew one thing for certain: she needed to get out of this place. Her stabilizers hummed beneath her skin. She told herself this was the right choice. The only one. Still, a voice whispered at the back of her mind that she should help.

  But she couldn’t. The two bodies remained at the edges of her vision. The smell of slowly rotting flesh filling her nose. She couldn’t stay here any longer.

  “I’m sorry,” Amber whispered before turning on her heel and hurrying back the way she’d came. She didn’t care if she ran into the guards. This was all just too weird, even for her.

  Mindy’s whimpers haunted her as she ran. Amber promised herself that she’d ask Morta if she knew of any reason why the LaRue family would keep prisoners locked in Spade’s basement.

  She promised herself she’d go back for the girl she’d left behind.

  Chapter Four

  Amber stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She hated wearing black leather. It was heavy, hot, and clung to her body in the all the places she didn’t want it to. Morta thought it made her look more intimidating. And sexy. And sex sells better than anything else. Amber hated it.

  The catsuit plunged deep into her cleavage revealing way too much of her body. Even though she was alone, it made her blush. The sleeves ended three-quarters of the way down her arms, revealing the erratic tattoos and scars covering her forearms. Her stabilizers glowed faintly as she trailed her fingers down her right arm. She only hoped she’d be able to influence the negotiation enough to help it go smoothly.

  She turned to look at her silhouette in the mirror and stuck out her bottom lip. She would definitely need to discuss her attire with Morta if future meetings with Spade were required.

  Sighing, she slipped an electrifying baton into the belt at her waist. If push came to shove and she needed to fight her way out, the baton would be able to incapacitate even the toughest of opponents for the precious moments it would take for her to get the hell out of the meeting room.

  When she’d told Morta about Mindy, she’d brushed it off as nothing more than a hallucination brought on by too much hooch. Amber didn’t buy it. She’d barely had anything to drink before escaping to the basement. Besides, she wasn’t damaged enough to conjure up something like that, even if she had seen her parents’ bodies at the edges of her vision. That had been a memory. Mindy had been real.

  She hadn’t been able to rid her dreams of the girl’s whimpers. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but think what the girl was doing now. Was she safe? She hoped so.

  She shook her head and put on her game face. Mindy wasn’t her responsibility. She couldn’t save everyone. If her uncle had taught her anything, it was that. Her alarm buzzed, and she turned from the mirror.

  It was time.

  Pipes dripped brown, sludge-like water onto the concrete floor as she and the negotiator she’d been paired with made their way towards the meeting place. It was, by far, the slummiest place Amber had ever been, which was saying something considering the places she’d been with her uncle.

  The tunnel was narrow with little holes cut through the thick metal to let in the hazy twilight sky. Mist swirled at their feet. The black leather clung to Amber, constricting her breathing uncomfortably. She trailed her fingers along the side of the tunnel. A slight prickling at the base of her skull warned that danger lurked nearby.

  Morta called it her “spidey-sense,” whatever that meant.

  She kept one hand wrapped tightly around the baton at her waist. She didn’t trust the LaRue family, especially after what she’d seen in their basement. But, Spade fit into Morta’s plans for the Underworld.

  And, what Morta wanted, Morta got.

  They entered into a wide, open space. Pipes zig-zagged across the ceiling, steam puffing from them in clouds. Amber cracked her neck as she mentally reviewed their plan. Set the terms of the deal. Ensure the LaRue family knew their place in the negotiations. Use her gift to influence the proceedings.

  Piece of cake. Really. She’d manipulated so many deals in the past, there was no way this one could go wrong.

  Still, her heart beating rapidly in her chest and the prickling at the base of her skull continued. It was like an annoying bug. Swarming around her. Making her mind hum. She thrummed her fingers on her baton and willed herself to calm down.

  Boots squeaked on metal, and she turned toward the direction of the sound, her hand tightening on the baton.

  “It is so good of you to join us,” a smooth drawl said as a man entered the clearing. He wore a black jacket studded with rhinestones. The look immediately made Amber distrust him. They lived on a planet devoted to debauchery of all forms. Rhinestones were not part of that equation, especially when fringe was involved.

  “Yes,” the negotiator, Jasper, replied. He stuck out his arm to shake hands, but the man only stared down at it, a scowl covering his lips.

  “Yes, well, we are waiting for you in the drawing room. Please, follow me.” He didn’t wait for their response as he shoved past them and turned down a side tunnel.

  Amber exchanged a look with Jasper. He sucked in his cheeks and shrugged. This was not part of the plan. She doubted that any good would come of it.

  The tingling in her arms and at the base of her skull increased exponentially as they followed the Spade representative. He didn’t speak to them as they walked. His movements were stiff and calculated, and Amber began to wonder if he were really a robot. It wasn’t uncommon on Thoth. They were easier to control and cost less over time.

  He led them through a series of turns that Amber knew she would never be able to replicate if she needed to make a break for it. She would need to rely on her abilities to get her out of this if things went south. The realization did nothing to squash the squirming sensation in her stomach.

  Eventually, the tunnel began to ascend at a steep incline. Her calf muscles burned as she pushed herself to climb the last few steps to the top. Jasper wheezed beside her, clearly out of shape. She raised an eyebrow at him when he pulled a small cloth from his pant pocket and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “What?” he asked.

  She smirked but said nothing as the Spade representative flung open a set of double doors and entered into a room made entirely of glass.

  A large table stretched through the exact middle of the room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals glimmered in the glow of hundreds of candles.

  “We are so pleased to be meeting with you,” a woman clad in a violet gown with a plunging neckline said as she rose from her chair. Her chestnut locks tumbled over her shoulders and curled around her face. She was plumper than most of the women on Thoth, but her curves suited her lively eyes and sweet smile.

  Clearly, Spade agreed that sex sells.

  “Ahem.” Amber cleared her throat and stepped forward. She glared at the puppy-dog-eyes Jasper was giving the woman. He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s great to meet you,” she said, thrusting her hand out. “I’m Fortuna. This is—”

  “—Thor,” Jasper cut in.

  Alright, he didn’t want his real name being used. Amber could respect that. Very few people—even members of the Underworld—knew her real name. She intended to keep it that way.

  “Thor,” she repeated. “We are appreciative that this deal is moving forward to the negotiation phase.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are,” the woman re
plied, looking Amber up and down. She turned her gaze on Jasper and smiled. “We very much desire to close this deal as quickly as possible.”

  “That is good to hear,” he said, giving a slight bow.

  There was something about the girl’s tone that made Amber’s skin crawl.

  “Alright then. We’re all on the same page. Let’s make this happen,” Amber said, placing herself between Jasper and the woman. She didn’t like how her stabilizers sizzled beneath her skin at the woman’s smile. Her heartrate continued to increase, the erratic thumping echoing in her ears.

  The woman pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I haven’t been a fabulous host, have I?” she asked. She stared straight into Amber’s eyes as she spoke.

  By the stars, did this woman ever blink? “It’s honestly fine. Just tell us what to call you and the guy,” she jerked her head toward the man who had led them to the room.

  “Oh, you can call him Sparrow. I’m Guinevere.”

  “And I’m Frost,” a man said jovially as he entered the room, an enhanced pulser pistol strapped to his back. He wore fingerless gloves over his hands. Wavy copper hair fell across his eyes as he whipped up his hand and grasped Amber’s. “You must be the unforgettable Fortuna. I’ve heard so much about you.” He held her hand for a moment too long, and she tugged it out of his grasp with a frown.

  “You’ve heard of me?” she asked. She tried so hard to keep a low profile.

  “You’re only the most famous luck-driver in the Underworld,” he replied smoothly. A smirk flashed across his features before he took on a solemn expression. “Of course, you’ll understand why Spade needed to bring our own luck-driver to this meeting,” he swept his arm towards Guinevere. “Her talent lies in determining if any manipulation is used.”

  Amber’s lips twitched at his amicable tone for what was clearly a passive-aggressive threat. Well, she had some thoughts about how Spade ran their operation. She’d be glad when they took control of the syndicate.

  Her stabilizers whirred beneath her skin as she contemplated all the ways she could manipulate the deal. The vicious smile spreading across Guinevere’s face gave her pause.