by S A McClure
“Yeah, right. Like I would ever believe that. Morta has never once, in all my time working for her, tried to protect me. If anything, she puts me in the line of danger more than anything else. Remember the shade?”
He shrugged. “She works in mysterious ways, but I think it would be beneficial for you to trust her. I don’t think she was lying to you to hurt you.”
Amber cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why are you defending her?” she asked. She wracked her brain for any plausible explanation. Only one came to mind. “You work for her, is that it?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. She’s just an old acquaintance of mine, and I trust her.”
Well, that didn’t make her trust him. Morta didn’t have ‘old,’ mysterious acquaintances. She had people she used to achieve her goals. And people she controlled through fear or owed favors. In either case, Amber wouldn’t consider them acquaintances.
She forced herself to look at the corpses again. There was a girl, who couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen, who stared at her with eyes wide open. They were glassy and unseeing. Her throat was bruised and her skin pale, as if she had been drained of all her blood. Dark flakes clung to her neck around the torn flesh. Amber couldn’t stop herself from staring at the girl.
She was so young. Too young to have lost her life like this.
Amber turned towards J, her hands balled into fists. “We have to stop this. We have to.”
He met her gaze. His eyes were tender and full of life, so unlike the girl in the room. She froze as he cupped her cheek and said, “We will. Together, I think we can do anything.”
They remained like that for a few moments before Amber took a step back. The break in contact left her feeling cold. “Why haven’t you gone to the authorities?” she asked. Despite her deep mistrust of the Planetary Guard Force, she couldn’t understand why Morta had allowed these people to continue being slaughtered like cattle.
J sighed, his shoulders slumping. “They’re owned by the other groups fronting the LaRues.”
“Then the Augmented Human Rights Council—” she began.
“—Are powerless against the ones really in charge of what’s going on here,” he finished.
She stepped away from him. So what? They were supposed to just fight against an all-powerful force of presumably wealthy and well-connected people with no support from the military or legal counsel? She couldn’t believe that he was willing to accept that.
That Morta was.
She shook her head. “We have to make it stop,” she repeated. She stared at the lifeless girl again. “We can’t let this happen to anyone else.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Amber wasn’t just thinking about her own future. What Spade was doing was wrong. And if acquiring them would put a small dent in the death toll, she was determined to play a role in their demise.
“I will make them pay,” she whispered to the girl as she stormed from the house. “I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
Amber slipped into the high roller room from the secret entrance. She slid in behind a waitress carrying a tray of drinks to one of the tables. Her heart hammered in her chest uncomfortably. She didn’t want to be here.
Not after what she’d seen.
But, there wasn’t any other choice.
J had left her at the Underworld’s entrance. One moment he’d been standing next to her, his hand resting uncomfortably on the small of her back. The next, he’d been gone. Leaving her with the strange sensation of craving his touch again.
Even now, the memory of his warmth lingered with her. She hated that he had been capable of tearing down some of her barriers. And she thought she had been so careful.
Morta was nowhere to be seen, which was normal at these types of functions. She’d make an appearance, give a grand speech about Thoth, the Underworld, and a warning for her guests to not gamble away their souls. But then she would disappear. Not even Amber knew where she went most of the time.
“No!” a man shouted at one of the blackjack tables. He slammed his fists onto the table, sending chips scattering to the ground. He stood over the female dealer, his face a mass of anger. “You cheated! I saw you do it!” he screamed.
Amber immediately felt the hair on the back of her neck lift as she stepped towards the fight. She’d witnessed this type of reaction before. Someone overextended themselves, bet something they didn’t want to lose, and then lost. Classic addicts, not knowing when to quit.
The casino thanked them for their misgivings. It was how Morta had amassed much of her wealth. Today, however, it made Amber’s stomach churn. How many times had one of the naturally augmented taken a risk with Spade and ended up dead because of it? She knew what Morta did was completely different than what the LaRues—and whoever was backing them—were doing, but it didn’t change her sense of uneasiness.
The man gestured towards his small stack of chips. Spittle flew from his mouth as he leaned towards the dealer and snarled at her. To her credit, she didn’t back down. Morta trained all her dealers on how to handle pissed off gamblers.
His hand crept towards his belt. Amber’s senses screamed at her that something was wrong. Weapons weren’t allowed in the Underworld, but occasionally someone was able to sneak past security with an undocumented one. Something about his movement made her think that this was one of those times.
She sighed. Maybe it was everything that had happened over the past few days. Maybe it was how tired she was after seeing the dead. Maybe it was that she was just sick of having to deal with petty people who bit off more than they could chew. But she did not have the patience for his shenanigans.
She strode towards the table confidently. Her stabilizers hummed beneath her skin as she envisioned protection for the dealer and other players. Her sole focus was on eliminating the threat to their safety.
The man leapt onto the table. He loomed over the dealer, his shoulders hunched like a bear. He swung his head up as he landed, knocking it against the chandelier hanging above the table with a loud clang. Crystals clinked together as it shuddered. The chain holding it to the ceiling groaned, dust fluttering around it.
Amber unholstered her pulser pistol in a single, fluid motion. She breathed in as she stared down the short barrel and aimed at the man. There was a loud moaning sound as the chain continued to sway. Her eyes trailed away from the man and pinpointed a bent link. It was barely connected to the one above it. An idea sparked within her and she jerked the pistol up, taking aim at the weakest link.
She pulled the trigger.
The dart struck the link just where it was beginning to break apart. It shattered into dust. The chandelier collapsed onto the table, pinning the man beneath it. Crystals exploded in a spray of shards. Holstering her pistol once more, Amber lunged for the man.
The crowd screamed as they scrambled away from the table in a panic. Amber rolled her eyes and pushed through them. Her boots crunched on glass. She tsked softly as she stared down at the man pinned beneath the weight of the giant chandelier. For a moment, she considered leaving him there. But a glance around the room told her that wasn’t an option.
Pulling a magnetic cuff from one of her dress pockets, she placed it around the man’s hands. He groaned as she rolled him onto his back and peered into his eyes. Dilated, unfocused pupils met her gaze. Definitely concussed. She didn’t care. He deserved what he got.
Security officials stormed into the room moments later. They ushered the remaining guests away from the table. Two bulky men lifted the chandelier off the man and pulled him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily on his feet before throwing his head back in an attempt to headbutt one of them. Still sluggish from being crushed by a chandelier, his missed entirely. Another guard thrust a taser against his neck. Blue sparks sizzled as the scent of melting flesh permeated the air. Amber wrinkled her nose at the putrid scent.
The man spasmed as the current flowed through him, his hands tucking
against his chest and drool sliding from his lips. When the guard finally removed the taser, the man slumped to the floor. He twitched. Once. Twice. And then lay still. The guards dragged him out of the room by his ankles.
Amber searched the crowd for the dealer. She stood in a corner. She leaned her head against the wall with her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell in quick, staccato bursts. Her shoulders shook and Amber realized the woman was silently sobbing. Weaving her way through the remaining crowd, Amber paused right in front of the dealer.
Her mascara was running in black and silver rivers down her cheeks. Amber frowned when she noticed the way the girl scratched at the back of her hands. Deep red gashes stretched across her skin. Rivulets of crimson stained her hands. As if sensing Amber standing in front of her, her eyes snapped open and peered straight in Amber’s.
Amber felt her cheeks heat. At a loss for words, she placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder and squeezed.
“You alright?” she croaked.
The dealer didn’t respond.
“It’s over now. Why don’t you go get some rest? We can handle it from here.” She squeezed the woman’s shoulder again. Still, there wasn’t a reply.
Although a part of her felt compelled to help the dealer process the fight, the bigger, stronger part of her didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with another person’s feelings.
Amber shrugged. “Whatever,” she quipped as she turned her back on her. It wasn’t her fault the dealer couldn’t handle how the Underworld’s guards manhandled their arrests. Or was it that she just couldn’t fathom that she’d just been attacked by a player?
It didn’t matter. She needed to debrief the head of security. Maybe then she could finally get some rest. She doubted it. She hated the phrase ‘no rest for the wicked,’ but knew it was true. In the Underworld, party never stopped.
Oliver’s bald head gleamed in the overhead lights that had been turned on when the security detail arrived. Amber made her way towards him, already knowing what he was going to say.
“You should have waited for us,” he said gruffly.
Amber lifted her chin to meet his gaze and smirked. “If I had waited, who knows what he might have done.” She flicked her eyes toward where a set of guards was bagging the weapon the man had dropped when he’d been crushed by the chandelier. It was small and shaped like a pulser pistol with a vial attached to its top that swirled with a vibrant purple liquid.
“What is that thing, anyway?” she asked.
“Dunno,” he sighed. “Never seen anything like it before. We’ll be sending it off for research once Morta’s given the approval.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “No clue what he lost, but it must’ve been something invaluable. His dealer is rocking herself in the corner.” She jerked her thumb towards the woman. “Don’t know how much you’ll get out of her.”
“We’ll get her to the medica,” Oliver replied automatically. The veins in his biceps twitched as he twisted around to peer at the dealer. His jaw tightened when he saw the state she was in and motioned for two of his guards to escort her out of the room.
“Tell me what happened.”
Amber made quick work of describing how she’d entered the high-roller room only a few moments before the man began verbally attacking the dealer. She described how he became physically aggressive, so she’d decided to step in. She didn’t mention her “spidey-sense.” No reason to spread that little tidbit of knowledge around if she didn’t have to. Sure, people knew she was lucky, but she didn’t want them knowing she could sense danger before it happened. Gave her an upper hand in fights.
When she’d finished, Oliver nodded once before saying, “You’d best tell Morta everything you just told me.” He waved towards the door his guards had dragged the man through.
“Seriously?” she asked. Her eyes burned from exhaustion and her head ached.
The corners of his mouth twitched, but he just shook his head.
“Awesome. Wow. Gee, thanks. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my time,” she sniped.
He stared at her, his eyes going wide for a moment before he cleared his throat and turned away from her.
She stood alone, in silence for a moment. Her mind raced as she silently berated herself for revealing even a modicum of her frustration to someone else. Morta’s employees knew she was loyal to the Underworld—and to their employer. Yet, it would be so easy for that reputation to disintegrate into dust if rumors spread that there was a rift between her and Morta.
Her initial reaction was to follow Oliver and explain that she was just exhausted from too many days spent working overtime. Somehow, she knew it would only make it worse. Sighing heavily, she exited the room through the door the guards had taken.
The trek down the passageways to their underground holding cells made the pit in her stomach double in size. Morta had lied to her. Or, at least, she’d omitted truths about what the LaRues were using Spade for. It certainly wasn’t just for gambling.
Every time Amber closed her eyes, she saw the girl’s face. Her unseeing eyes. Her limp body covered in bruises and dried blood. There was something about her that reminded her how easily she could have ended up in that room.
If it hadn’t been for Morta.
Even that recognition left her feeling confused. Morta had done so much for her. Beyond that, she’d expressed her desire to protect NAs. She was angry at the United Terran force for letting people like them live in constant fear of being picked up for testing. Yet, she’d withheld the fact that Spade was a front for illegal testing on NAs. She didn’t know what that meant for the future. Or why the LaRues were giving up on their casino now. Her skin crawled with goosebumps and she shivered. She couldn’t imagine Morta falling in with whoever was supporting the LaRues to continue the research, but still. She couldn’t be sure.
Whimpering echoed down the hall, and Amber paused. Morta was already here. Biting her bottom lip, she increased her pace. Whatever was happening, she was determined for there to be no more secrets between them.
She rounded the corner, stopping short when she saw what Morta had done to the man. Thick hooks pierced the skin of his back, suspending him from the ceiling by dozens of braided wire strands. His arms hung limply by his sides, his shoulders bruised and sunken, clearly dislocated. Blood ran down his body in currents of crimson. He screamed as Morta pressed an electrifying baton into his armpit. She held it there for only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to leave him whimpering when she withdrew. The scent of melted flesh stung Amber’s nostrils and she coughed as bile rose up her throat.
Morta was alone with the man. The metal walls gleamed white, making the crimson droplets splattered on them all the more jarring. Amber sucked in a breath. The carnage had never bothered her before. She didn’t know why it did now.
A drain in the middle of the room sucked the crimson flood into the piping system. Tomorrow, there wouldn’t be a trace of the man left. Amber already knew he’d bet his life. Not just a part of it. Not just a few years. All of it.
This is what he’d lost.
Morta never played with the ones who only stood to lose a few years of their essence. She’d told Amber once that hurting the ones who had bet everything helped her remain human. She lived the pain they experienced when she consumed their energy. Their life.
“Good,” Morta said when she noticed her standing at the doorway. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why?” Amber asked before she could stop herself. She stepped into the room.
The man had obviously pissed himself. The smell of ammonia was almost overwhelming. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Morta peered around the man’s dangling body to meet her gaze. “Because, I need your help in getting this man to tell me his name. So far, he has absolutely refused.”
“I see,” Amber said. She didn’t want to help Morta torture him. “Couldn’t you just scan his eye or something? It would be quicker. And more accurate.”
<
br /> “Yes, I tried that already,” she replied briskly. “There was something wrong with the scan.”
The man laughed, his teeth flashing red as his lips moved. “New biotech for security purposes.” He coughed wetly. “You can’t hack it. You can’t access my files.” He spat at Morta. “You really should invest in the future, Morta, instead of living in the past.”
She backhanded him. A bruise blossomed on his cheek and he squirmed like a worm on a hook.
“You don’t scare me,” he moaned as he spat blood onto the floor.
“I should,” Morta responded. “Of course, you bet your life and lost, so the only thing you have to look forward to is eternal darkness.”
He laughed again. “You won’t kill me,” he said.
“And why not?”
“Because if you do, you’ll lose any shot you have at acquiring Spade. Do you have any idea who I am?”
She shrugged. “No one of consequence. If you were, I would already know who you are.”
“You’re too much of a bitch to know when you’ve been beat. You’ll never be the queen of Thoth. You’ll never be able to stop the rising tide. You’re just a decaying, outdated twat who is too stupid to realize that the war is already over. You lost. You—”
Amber didn’t get to hear the rest of his speech as Morta wrapped her fingers around his throat. His eyes went wide as the transference began. They bulged from his face as his energy began to be pulled from him. Amber closed her eyes, not wanting to see his skin turn grey and begin to crumble into dust as Morta completely consumed him.
Her head was fuzzy, and she couldn’t seem to pull the disparate threads she knew fit together.
The clinking of the wires drew her attention back to Morta. Her skin glistened luminously as she stalked towards her. Her lips had turned ruby red, and her dark, ebony hair shone as it caught the light. She smiled at Amber.
“Turns out, I didn’t need his information after all,” she said.
Amber wasn’t in the mood for Morta’s cockiness or swagger. The man was dead. And she had even more questions than she did before. She felt drained. Exhausted from everything that had happened. And, all she wanted to do was go back to her chambers and sleep.
