Chapter 10

The sharp ring of Sal’s com unit broke the silence. I closed my eyes, pretending sleep as he grunted and rose from the bed. His gaze swept me, a cool caress that sent prickles of unease down my spine even as he moved away.

I remained still and listened to his retreating footsteps. After a moment, he said, “Sal Casimir.”

A deeper, darker voice—also male—said, “Pick up.”

Sal did, basically ending any chance I had of overhearing the conversation. I might have the genes of a tiger, but they weren’t helping in this instance. Sal was speaking so softly I could barely even hear him, let alone the man at the other end of the com unit.

With no reason to pretend I was still sleeping, I yawned, stretched, then got up and headed for the bathroom. Sal had the latest in air showers, which actually used small amounts of water mixed with air—a rarity these days, as water conservation had been a priority since before the war had begun. I wasn’t entirely sure why, given it seemed to rain regularly lately, but maybe it was simply a hangover from the many years of drought this area apparently once faced.

The call had ended by the time I padded out to the living room to find my tunic and get dressed. Sal’s expression was forbidding, and his gaze, when it met mine, was hooded and angry.

I paused and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He waved a hand, the movement short, sharp. “Nothing. There’s just been a problem at another business I own. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bundle you out sooner than I’d expected or wanted.”

He was lying. I was certain of it, though there was nothing in his voice or actions to give that impression. “I hope it’s nothing major.”

“So do I.”

He strode toward me, all dark and dangerous energy, and it took every ounce of will to remain where I was. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me fiercely, but it was a desperate thing, absent of hunger or true passion. Then he released me with a suddenness that had me staggering back a couple of steps.

“I’d like to see you again.” He swung around and stalked across to the kitchen. “Shall we say tomorrow night?”

I frowned, unsettled by his abrupt change of mood and the lack of passion. That call, I was suddenly sure, had been something to do with me. Something he hadn’t wanted to hear.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Of course, it was more than possible the certainty was nothing more than paranoia, but even so, I wasn’t about to ignore it. Similar such insights had saved my life more than once during the war.

“Sure,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “But you can leave a message at Old Stan’s if you can’t make it. I’ll understand.”

“I will. Until tomorrow night, then.”

He didn’t turn around, didn’t offer to see me out. After staring at his back for several moments, I headed for the lift and left.

Once I reached the street, I paused and breathed deep. The air was crisp and cool, and it chased the scent of dark silk and wrongness from my nostrils. I wished it could do the same to the scent that lingered—however lightly—on my skin. There was something about it that just rubbed me the wrong way.

Or maybe it was simply the knowledge that the Sal I’d known—the Sal I’d once trusted with all that I was, and all that I’d dreamed of—was no more.

I took another breath and discovered the teasing, electric aroma of a summer storm. Jonas was near. As I looked to the right, he stepped out from the entrance of the next building. He shook his head minutely, his gaze flickering briefly past me before he turned and walked away.

I yawned, then waited for a gap in the traffic and crossed the street, my gaze sweeping the glass fronts of the building opposite. I couldn’t see the threat Jonas indicated, but then, maybe I wouldn’t. If there was someone following me, it was a fair bet they’d be more practiced at concealing their presence than I was.

I paused as I reached the other side of the road and glanced up. Sal stood near the window, watching me. I gave him a smile and a wave, but couldn’t escape the notion that something was very wrong, that I needed to find out what he was involved in, and fast.

I silently called Cat and Bear, then turned and walked away, keeping Jonas in sight but staying half a block behind. My two little ghosts appeared within five minutes, happily dancing around me for several seconds before calming down. I asked them to keep an eye on Sal without getting too close, and to report back to the bunker by sunset. They immediately dashed off, excited to be doing something new and interesting—another sentiment I wished I shared.

Jonas turned right onto a walkway heading toward Second Street but, as he did so, flicked a hand to his left, seeming to indicate I should keep going straight. I did, only turning right when I reached the next one. There was no one else in the walkway, and my footsteps echoed in the vast, empty canyon between the two streets. When I reached the end of the walkway, I turned left onto Second Street and casually glanced over my shoulder. There was no one there . . . and yet my skin crawled with awareness.

I wasn’t the only one who could wrap myself in sunlight in this city. Whoever followed me was also capable of it.

Tension wound through my body. I flexed my fingers and fought to keep my pace even. Running would be the worst thing I could do right now; it would only further raise the suspicions of whoever was behind me.

“Head to Old Stan’s,” Jonas said behind me. “It’s close to the market on Twelfth, between the main gate and the first walkway. I’ll meet you there.”

I didn’t acknowledge him, just immediately headed across the road and into the next walkway. The crawling sense of awareness never went away, but it never drew any nearer, either. I wondered if the person following me was one of the two people Sal had merged with, or if it was someone else entirely. Sun shielding was an extremely rare talent, and while I had no idea if it could be found in anyone outside those created in the déchet labs, it wasn’t hard to imagine that if someone did possess the ability, they’d be shuffled into either the public or private army.

I continued moving through the various walkways until I reached Twelfth, then paused, looking left and right to get my bearings. I knew the market section well enough—it was where I pilfered my supplies of fresh fruit and veg—but I’d always come at it from outside the city rather than inside. After a moment, I caught the sound of stallholders promoting their prices and goods, and headed left again. The market soon came into sight. It was a riot of color, sounds, and mouthwatering aromas. A sea of tents and temporary stalls stretched across the entire street, blocking the road and forcing all those needing to get farther down Twelfth through the many higgledy-piggledy rows. I resisted the instinctive urge to snag some fruit and knobs of crusty bread as I wove my way through the market, and walked on.

The curtain wall stretched high above me now, a rusting silver monolith that under normal conditions would have cast this whole area into deep shadows. Old Stan’s was a four-story timber building that was barely more than two windows wide. The myriad of antennas and satellite dishes that lined its roof gleamed warmly in the bright light of the nearby UV tower, and the small lane between it and the next building was filled with overflowing bins and old men in even older chairs. I gave them a nod as they glanced my way. I had no idea who they were or why they’d sit in a refuse-filled lane, but for as long as I’d been coming to Central to steal food, there’d been old men sitting in that lane, smoking and drinking and talking.

I opened the inn’s somewhat battered blue metal door and stepped into slightly shadowed coolness. A wrinkled, gray-haired old man looked over the edge of the tablet he was reading and gave me a grin that was missing a few teeth.

“You’d be Ti Zindela, then,” he said, voice gravelly and warm.

“And you’d be Old Stan, I’m guessing,” I said, with a smile.

“I am, lass, I am.” He waved a hand toward a somewhat rickety-looking set of stairs at the back of the small entrance hall. “Your room is ready—it’s on the top floor, number 4C.”

“Thanks.”

He tossed me a key, then got back to his reading. I took the stairs two at a time; room 4C was at the rear of the building and one of two on the top floor. I opened the door and stepped inside. The room was small, consisting of little more than a bed, a washbasin and tap, and probably the smallest autocook that ever existed. I couldn’t imagine there’d be too much in the way of food options within it, but I guessed it was better than nothing. And it wasn’t like I was going to stay here very long, anyway.

Jonas leaned a shoulder against the window that looked down into the small alley, but turned as I closed the door. “Did she follow you here?”

I raised my eyebrows. “She?”

He nodded. “There was a slight feminine overtone, though her scent was extremely tenuous. You never saw her?”

I shook my head. “I did sense a presence behind me, but I never actually spotted her. Whoever it is, she’s damn good.”

Mentioning the fact my follower was probably using a sun shield certainly wasn’t an option, given very few people alive today would even know what it was.

“She was so damn good she wasn’t even visible.” His voice was flat. Suspicious, though whether it was aimed at me or not I couldn’t say. “I’d suspect magic, except for the fact I couldn’t smell it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You can smell magic?”

“Some.” His nostrils flared slightly and a slight trace of distaste briefly crossed his otherwise enigmatic expression. “Just as I can smell your friend. He has a very odd scent.”

“Sorry, but there’s not a lot I can do about that right now.” I walked across to the autocook and studied the menu. As I suspected, there wasn’t much. I opted for a cheese-and-vegetable omelet, hoping that at least with the market being so close it would be fresh, then turned to face Jonas. “Odd in what way?”

He hesitated. “He’s no vampire, and yet there are undertones of night and death in his aroma that speak of those creatures. But there’s also something else, something I can’t really place—it reminds me a little of the scent of the Others, but it’s wrapped in humanity. Which makes no sense at all.”

No, it didn’t, although it did make me wonder if perhaps the fourth figure I’d seen in Sal’s memories had been one of the Others. But if it had been, surely he and his two companions would not now be alive, not when there’d been reports of just one of the creatures taking out entire units after the war.

I thrust the question away and said, “How long were you following me last night?”

Jonas’s expression gave little away. “From the moment you and he walked out of Hedone to the moment you returned. Why?”

“Were you in the restaurant at all?”

“Yes.”

And I hadn’t even seen him, let alone sensed him. He was living up to everything I’d ever heard about the rangers—which made me even more thankful my job during the war had generally kept me away from them. “And did you sense another in that room who smelled the same as Sal?”

He frowned. “No two people can have the same scent. There are always differences, even in close-knit family units.”

Well, while that was true enough, those of us created to be lures certainly could both change our scents and match them to others’. But it was never an ability given to the grays, and I really hoped it was one of those facts Sal didn’t remember.

“I thought that, too, until last night,” I said. “I couldn’t pinpoint who the second scent belonged to because of the air-conditioning, but he or she was watching me and Sal from the moment we arrived until the moment we left.”

“Meaning someone suspects you are not who you say you are.”

“Or they suspect I might be behind the break-ins at both Deseo and that military base.”

Jonas frowned. “Why would they suspect that? You’re not even wearing the same form, and the olfactory senses of a vampire are, as far as I’m aware, even duller than a human’s. They smell life and blood but little else. Even if that weren’t so, there is no way they could have reported your scent to anyone here in Central.”

“Except for the fact that they’re obviously working with someone here in Central.”

His gaze narrowed. “What makes you so certain of that?”

I hesitated. I needed to be very careful about what I said and what I didn’t. He was already suspicious that I was keeping information back; I didn’t need it exploding into full-blown certainty. “The fact that, when I appeared in the military bunker, one of the vamps called me ‘mistress’ and asked if I needed any help. He obviously mistook me for someone else—someone who looks very similar to the form I was wearing last night. I suspect it was the only reason they didn’t immediately attack.”

He swore softly. “You should have mentioned this to Nuri earlier.”

“I didn’t remember earlier,” I snapped back. “And what does it matter anyway? You can simply telepath the information across to her now, anyway.”

“That I can.” His smile was grim. Cold. “What else have you failed to mention?”

“Ranger, it might be wise to remember I’m not working for you and Nuri.” My voice was surprisingly soft given the anger surging within me. “I’m only doing this because I want to help those children, so don’t take that tone with me or, by Rhea, I’ll walk away and leave you milling around in uselessness.”

“And the mouse will rise, and woe betide those who oppose her,” he murmured.

I blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s a line from an old fairy tale. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before.”

“Mom was human and didn’t do shifter fairy tales.” And our handlers and educators certainly hadn’t. It had proven problematic more than once.

He gave me another of those cool smiles. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, finding whoever is interacting with the vampires won’t be easy, as I suspect they might be a shifter of some kind.”

“My type of shifter, or yours? And why would you suspect that? The vampires certainly couldn’t have told you.”

“Because I’m not the only body shifter in Central. Sal’s one, and so is whoever shares his scent.”

The autocook pinged softly. I opened the unit and took out the plate. The omelet not only looked fresh, but smelled divine. I ferreted around until I found a knife and fork, then moved across to the small table. All the while, Jonas watched me.

Eventually, he said, “Do you believe Sal is involved with this other person?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they smell the same.” I ate some of the omelet and then met his gaze. “I did a reading on him last night.”

His eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

I hesitated. “Nuri’s a seeker herself, so you’re obviously aware what we can and can’t do.”

He simply nodded, his arms crossed and expression giving little away.

“Well, some of us are capable of going deeper than merely reading surface thoughts and emotions. We can delve into past memories and gain insight on all that that person might have seen and done.” I hesitated. “But it can only be done during sex.”

“In that case, remind me never to have sex with you.”

My smile was as cold as his voice. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that, ranger.”

“No.”

And yet, even as he said it, desire rose between us, tainting the air with its rich, heady aroma. I dropped my gaze from his and steadfastly ate the omelet—even as my skin prickled with awareness and heat flushed my body.

“So what did you discover during this invasion?”

“It’s not an invasion. It’s nothing as crude as that,” I snapped, then took a deep breath and added, a little more calmly, “He got caught in some sort of weird darkness with three others, and it merged their DNA. I’m pretty sure they can communicate telepathically. Sal got a call this morning, and I think it was one of the people I saw in his mind.”

“If they can communicate telepathically, then they wouldn’t need to use standard coms.”

“True.” I bit my lip for a moment. “Perhaps it’s not a true form of telepathy, but rather something like the seeker skill, in that they share impressions rather than thought.”

“It’s possible.” There was an odd edge to his voice that had me frowning. But before I could say anything, he added, “Can you describe the three he was caught with?”

I shook my head. “They were little more than silhouettes. All I can tell you is that there was one man, one woman, and someone else. Someone that felt unnatural, maybe even alien.”

“So the woman who followed you here is very possibly one of those three?”

“Possibly.” Or it could be one of Central’s rangers, alerted to my presence thanks to the other lot of shifters who’d been at Nuri’s when I’d first arrived there. Anything was possible at this point.

“What about the darkness itself?” he asked.

That edge was deeper. “It was unnatural and also very alien. Why?”

“Because what you’re describing is probably a rift.” He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. “This is not good news.”

I frowned as I rose and walked across to the autocook, depositing my plate in the slot before ordering two coffees. “But if he was caught in the rift, he’d be dead. People don’t survive them.”

“People do,” he snapped back. “It’s rare, but it happens. But if he was caught in a rift with those others, then they now all share not only a form of collective consciousness, but possibly many of the abilities they had individually.”

Because rifts chewed up the DNA of whatever they encountered and spat it out in a completely different form. But if that was the case, why did Sal look the same? He shouldn’t, given the terrible results I’d seen of plants and animals caught in rifts. Or was it simply a matter of his using his shifter skills to maintain a form he was more comfortable with?

“That would explain how Sal and the person in the restaurant could share the same scent,” I said eventually.

He nodded. “The other three will also hold the same scent.”

“Other two,” I corrected. “The fourth person caught in that rift didn’t actually survive.”

“At least that means there’s one less for us to track down.” His voice was grim. “What else did you catch?”

“Nothing during sex.”

He raised an eyebrow again. “And afterward?”

“Again, nothing. But for no reason at all he brought up the Broken Mountains and asked if I’d been there recently.”

“Interesting.”

“More so given he also mentioned that he’d heard they were now infested by vampires.”

The autocook pinged and two steaming mugs of coffee appeared. I picked them both up and walked across to Jonas, handing him one but making sure our fingers didn’t brush.

He raised an eyebrow at my actions, and amusement briefly teased his lips. It made me wish he’d smile more often. Unfortunately, it fled as swiftly as it had appeared.

“There are no vampires in the Broken Mountains. I have kin up there; they would have mentioned it.”

“But there is an old military base, isn’t there?”

“Yes.” He took a sip of coffee, his expression thoughtful. “You think he was deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you?”

“I think it’s more than possible. If Sal, his two unknown friends, and the vampires are somehow all connected to whatever is going on, then they’ll be aware that someone raided that base last night.”

And really, why else would he suddenly mention the Broken Mountains if he wasn’t involved in some way? Coincidences happened, but there were just a few too many occurring now for it to sit comfortably.

“Then perhaps our task today should be to go investigate that old base.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know—”

“It’s daylight,” he cut in. “Even if the place is infested with vamps, they should be out. And all we really need to do is confirm whether that base is the one you stumbled into.”

“And what about my follower?”

He smiled, but this time, there was nothing nice about it. “Let me worry about your follower.”

I hesitated again. “How will we get up there?”

“I’ll grab an all-terrain vehicle and meet you at the rear of the museum in two hours.”

I nodded. That would give me time to go home, change, and grab some weapons. I wasn’t about to go anywhere near an old military base that might or might not be infested with vamps without being fully kitted up.

“How will I know when it’s safe to leave?”

“You’re not leaving by the front door. Another reason we use this place is because it has an escape hatch. If you pull the bed away from the wall you’ll uncover a small trapdoor; it leads to a set of stairs that’ll take you to the roof. Jump across to the next building, then shimmy down the drainpipe. It takes my weight, so it won’t be a problem. The back of that building has fallen into disrepair—go through it, then move back onto Twelfth.”

“What about the occupants of other buildings? What if I’m spotted?”

“This is Twelfth Street,” he said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. “People don’t care what you’re doing, as long as it’s not affecting them.”

“Fair enough.” I downed my coffee in several gulps and just about burned my mouth. “I’ll head off now, then—”

He caught my arm, his grip firm and oh so warm. Desire rippled through my body and spun through the air, entwining with his, creating a storm that threatened to overwhelm self-control—his as much as mine, if the darkening of his eyes was anything to go by. I licked my lips, torn between the need to keep safe and the desire to press closer, to breathe deep the scent of him, to let it flush through my body and claim me, as I suddenly wished he would claim me.

What in Rhea was going on? I’d never felt an attraction this fierce before. I might be designed to attract and be attracted to shifters, but this was something that had never happened.

“Not yet. Leave it for ten minutes.”

His voice was little more than a husky growl, and even more alluring than the desire that spun around us. I wanted to lean forward, to taste the lips that were so close, but such an action could only end badly. He might want me, but he didn’t trust me and he certainly didn’t like me. I wasn’t that desperate for intimacy that I’d take such a risk with such a man.

“Fine.” I pulled my arm free from his grip and stepped away from him. Cool air rushed between us, chilling the smattering of sweat that beaded my skin. This man was dangerous in more ways than I’d ever imagined.

I walked across to the autocook and ordered a second cup of coffee. I didn’t offer him one. I didn’t dare risk getting that close again.

When I finally turned to look at him, he was just finishing his drink. His gaze was enigmatic when it met mine, the desire long gone, even if its scent still stung the air. “Two hours. Make sure you’re there.”

“I will be.”

He left, and a huge sense of relief swept me—though why it felt like I’d dodged a bullet when every bit of me still thrummed with need I have no idea.

The sooner I found those kids, the sooner I could get away from him and Nuri, the better, I thought resolutely.

And ignored that annoying inner voice that snorted in disbelief.

I took a sip of coffee, then placed it on top of the autocook and walked across to the bed. If the various bits of welding evident on the metal framework were any indication, the bed had been repaired more than a few times. It made me wonder just what went on in this room. Sex, however strenuous, usually wasn’t enough to break such a sturdy-looking bed, even if many shifters tended to be vigorous lovers.

Would Jonas be? Even as that thought entered my mind, I thrust it away impatiently and lifted the end of the bed. Dragging it away from the wall revealed a thick rope tied to one of the bed’s metal struts and the trapdoor. It was close to the floor and looked barely wide enough to squeeze my shoulders into, let alone Jonas’s. Still, he’d obviously used this exit; if he could fit, so could I.

Especially given I could shadow if there was no source of light.

But the rooftop and the street were nothing but light, and there was no way I was going to be seen in this form. I didn’t care how much he believed no one in the area would care; I’d learned the hard way that people would and could do the unexpected.

I finished my coffee, then took a deep, calming breath and called to the shifting magic. I imagined dark hair and eyes, and a thin, unpleasant face. I also changed my scent, giving it sour overtones. Jonas might have said he’d deal with whoever was following me, but if for some reason he didn’t, then the caution would pay off. Especially if it was one of Sal’s companions.

With that done, I squatted down beside the trapdoor. There were two small holes on either side of the panel; I hooked my fingers into them and pulled it free. The space beyond was tight and dark, with barely enough room to maneuver. I lay on my belly and peeked in; a ladder led upward into a deeper darkness, and it didn’t exactly look in the greatest state of repair.

Still, it wasn’t like I had another choice. I squeezed into the small space, tucked my knees up, then grabbed the rope and pulled the bed back against the wall. Once the trapdoor was secured, I called to the night and the shadows, and became one with them. I flowed up the ladder, my particles brushing against its cool metal surface. Within a few minutes, slivers of light began to flicker through the darkness above me. I gained flesh once more, but the ladder wobbled alarmingly under my sudden weight, forcing me to hang on grimly for several seconds.

Once I was certain it wasn’t about to break, I slowly climbed up the rest of the way. As the shadows grew dimmer and the light stronger, a small, circular hatch became visible. I hooked an arm around a rung, then reached up and carefully turned the wheel. There was a slight groan—the sound of metal grating against metal—then it spun and the hatch popped. I blinked against the influx of bright light and cautiously peered out. The rooftop was a sea of technology—there wasn’t just an odd assortment of antennas and satellite dishes, but a battery of solar units, some of them almost as old as the ones on the tower at the museum—and might, in fact, provide spare part possibilities if I ever got desperate enough.

I climbed out of the hatch, ensured it was locked, and then rose and scooted across to the building’s edge. The gap to the next building was only six feet and really didn’t take much effort. I found the drainpipe easily enough, and a few seconds later was back on the street.

But I didn’t take the route Jonas had pointed out. I simply walked out onto Twelfth Street. Even if my follower was still out there, she would see and smell someone other than me.

It didn’t take long to get back to my bunker, and I was almost immediately surrounded by ghosts, who weren’t just happy to see me, but anxious to pass on their news.

For the third time in as many days, someone had tried to get into our bunker.

I swore softly and tried to concentrate as they excitedly relayed all the details—all of them doing so at the same time. Our would-be intruder was a gray-skinned man who wore military pants—not déchet pants, but something similar, if the images the little ghosts pressed into my mind were anything to go by. It wasn’t Sal—aside from the fact he was with me all last night, this man had an unusual scar running down his left cheek. It reminded me somewhat of the slashes rangers used to signify their rank and unit, but the scars on this man were thicker, uglier, and certainly not a result of a knife or claw—or not the claw of any creature in this world, anyway.

At least whoever it was didn’t get in, but next time it might be another matter entirely. I praised the little ones for their vigilance, even as I wondered what the hell I could do to further protect this place. I had no doubt whoever it was would try some form of code breaker next—it was, after all, a logical step. It might take some time to crack open this grate, but they would eventually get through.

And while this tunnel was now a part of the bunker’s secure system, there were no laser curtains within it to drop down if a break-through occurred, and no automated weaponry, either. It was alarmed, and that was about it.

And I couldn’t ask the little ones to keep on defending it, simply because I had no idea what other technology or magic these people had access to. If they could make false rifts, then they might just have a way of dealing with ghosts, too.

I bit my lip as I punched in the code, then stepped into the tunnel. I hesitated as the grate closed, my gaze settling on the control box. I could fuse it; that would certainly stop them—at least until they got a laser torch and simply cut the bars open. Hell, that might even be their next option—it would certainly be quicker than using a code breaker.

But fusing the control box would also stop me exiting the bunker during daylight hours, as I couldn’t use the riskier museum exit. Right now, the last thing I wanted was to trap myself.

I moved on. Maybe there was something in the weaponry store on the sixth floor I could use. While I was familiar with most of the items stashed within the vast room, there were boxes in the rear I hadn’t opened for decades.

The ghosts trailed ahead of me, dancing along to the beat of my footsteps, their little forms faint wisps of fog in the tunnel’s darkness. But it was a beat that made me feel oddly lonely—though how I could ever feel that way in a place filled to the brim with people I had no idea. I guessed it was just the fact they weren’t living people.

It was, I thought somewhat bleakly, going to be a tough few weeks getting used to it just being me and my ghosts again. I might fear others discovering what I was, but I really couldn’t deny that—despite everything—it had been nice to have flesh-and-blood company for more than a few hours at a time.

We reached the sixth floor, and I made my way across to the security door that divided the corridor section from the bunk rooms, the stores, the main medical facilities, and what had been the training grounds for prepubescent déchet.

“Name, rank,” Hank’s gruff metallic voice said.

“Tiger C5, déchet, lure rank.” I pressed my thumb against the blood-work slot and waited until the system geared up and took the required sample. It took even longer than usual for the door to open, which wasn’t a good sign when it came to the generators. When it finally did open, I immediately headed toward the main generator room. The backup generator was making an alarming amount of noise and was shaking so badly I’d swear it was attempting to shear free from the bolts holding it down. I checked it and couldn’t see anything obviously wrong, but hit the maintenance switch, anyway. It would take the generator offline for an hour, but that wasn’t much of a risk given I had no intention of leaving to meet Jonas until the last possible minute.

With that done, I made my way to the weapons store, and searched through old boxes stacked at the rear of the room. A few of these were even older than me, with the date stamped on some indicating they’d originated from the years before the war. I had no idea if the equipment within those boxes would even be usable this far down the track, but old guns weren’t what I was looking for, anyway.

I began moving the various crates and dust bloomed, catching in my throat and making me cough. The ghosts laughed and dashed through the clouds, their little forms briefly gaining substance before the particles fell away. Eventually, I found something I could use: movement-activated electro-net devices. They’d been designed to capture both shifters and vampires, and while they wouldn’t kill either, they’d certainly incapacitate them for several hours, long enough for the ghosts to deposit them in the holding cells, out of harm’s way until I could get back and take care of them.

I went back to the South Siding exit and set them up, ensuring the deactivate switches were well hidden. With the tunnel as protected as I could possibly make it, I headed to the hydro pods to clean up. Once I’d changed back to the orange-haired, sweeter-smelling form that matched the RFID information in my wrist, I dressed in fresh clothes, then headed for the weapons store to kit up. When I came to the box of flares, I hesitated. My supply of them was running low, but it would be stupid not to have some with me if the bunker in the Broken Mountains was infested with vamps. I grabbed a backpack and threw a couple in, then headed back to the south tunnel.

After giving the ghosts instructions on what to do with anything or anyone we caught, I switched on the electro-net modules and walked around the back of the museum to meet Jonas.

The sky was dark and the air thick with the scent of rain. I grimaced and half wished I’d brought a coat with me . . . although if the mountains were infested with vampires, then getting wet would be the least of my problems.

Jonas was waiting at the far end of the museum’s grounds. He leaned against an ATV that had definitely seen better days, although the treads, at least, were thick and new-looking.

“Did you dig this thing out of a garbage dump or something?” I stopped several yards away from him. Despite being upwind, his scent still washed across my senses, oddly electric. It was as if the oncoming storm were somehow echoing through him.

“It’s called camouflage.” He pushed away from the vehicle. “We don’t need to be drawing attention to ourselves.”

I snorted. “What you call ‘camouflage’ we used to call ‘rust.’”

“Oh, there’s plenty of that, too.” He swiped a hand across a sensor, and the doors rose. “Your carriage awaits.”

“Shame my prince doesn’t,” I muttered. Not that there were any real princes left these days, as the royal family had been decimated in the earliest years of the war. I slung my rifles and backpack onto the rear seat, then climbed in.

He raised an eyebrow as he got in beside me and closed the doors. “You do not look the type to be searching for a prince.”

“I’m not. It was just a random comment.” I did, however, love stories about them, both real and fictional. I might not have had anyone read me such things growing up, but in the years since the war I’d had enough time to read whatever I liked—and I certainly hadn’t just read technical manuals. I added, “What did you do to my follower?”

“Nothing. She’d disappeared by the time I got down there.” He started up the ATV and the big engine’s roar shattered the silence.

“Yeah,” I commented, voice dry. “We’re really going to be unnoticed in this thing.”

He flashed me an all-too-quick smile as he typed our destination into the GPS, then switched to autopilot mode. “Once we near the Broken Mountains, I’ll throw her into stealth mode. At the moment it doesn’t really matter.”

I guess. I waited until the ATV had cleared the trees and reached the main artery away from Central, then said, “Did you try to track her?”

He nodded. “Her scent led to the market, but I lost it in the myriad of other smells.”

Which had no doubt been intentional. I had no idea who this woman might be, but if she now shared Sal’s DNA and some of his memories, she’d have an idea of how to lose any possible tail.

I was silent for a few minutes, watching the roadside gradually become a blur as the ATV picked up speed, then twisted in the seat and studied Jonas. “How did you and Nuri meet?”

He crossed his arms, his expression enigmatic. “Why?”

“Because you just seem an odd combination.”

“That’s true enough.” He shrugged. “We were thrown together by circumstances beyond our control.”

“When?”

“More than a few years ago.” He glanced at me. “If you’re going to ply me with questions, expect the same in return.”

“You and Nuri have done nothing but question me,” I replied evenly. “And you certainly don’t believe me.”

“That’s because you’re not telling the truth.”

“Says who?”

Another of those cool smiles touched his lips. “Nuri.”

Her seeker skills were a whole lot sharper than mine if she was pulling that sort of information from me without intimacy. “It’s rather unusual for a human witch and a shifter to be capable of linking telepathically, isn’t it?”

“It is, but Nuri is an unusual woman.”

That certainly wasn’t a statement I could argue with. “I have a suspicion the same could be said of you, ranger.”

He shrugged and didn’t answer. No surprise there.

“Are you lovers?”

He blinked, then laughed, the sound short, sharp, containing little in the way of humor. “No, we are not.”

“But you’re obviously close.”

“That we are.”

I was beginning to think it’d be easier to get water from a stone than information from this man. “And the others?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“How did you meet them? It’s obvious that Branna isn’t exactly on friendly terms with anyone.”

“No, he’s just not on friendly terms with you. And he hates liars.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which doesn’t exactly gel with what you said earlier about him not trusting you for a year. Does that mean he thought you were lying about something?”

“No, but as I also said, he’s a lion shifter, and they tend to take a long time before they trust.”

“Why does he hate déchet so much?”

“His family was killed by them.”

My stomach sunk. That wasn’t the news I’d wanted to hear. “So he was born during the war? He doesn’t look that old.”

“Most shifters tend to hold their age better than humans, and their life spans are generally double.”

“Yes, but if he was born during the war, then he’s at least a hundred years old. He should be showing some signs of age, and he’s not.”

Jonas shrugged again and reached behind the seat to snag a backpack. “Hungry?”

“In other words, question time is over.”

His gaze met mine, green eyes glacial. “When you start telling your secrets, I might. Fruit or trail ration?”

“Fruit.”

He tossed me an apple, then ripped open the plastic surround on what smelled like beef jerky and began eating. Silence fell, but it certainly wasn’t an easy silence. It was too filled with awareness.

When I finished the apple, I tossed the core out the window, then crossed my arms and stared at the countryside whizzing by. It had been ages since I’d been this far out, and it was good to see that the scars of war had all but disappeared into a sea of green. Here and there the remnants of a human city jutted skeletal metal and concrete fingers toward the sky, but as we got farther away from Central, the forests and ruins gave way to the vast tracts of farmland that were Central’s lifeline.

It took another hour to reach the Broken Mountains, and as the ATV began to climb, Jonas switched to stealth mode and silence fell around us. The shadows got deeper and the air colder, until I once again began wishing I’d brought a coat with me.

“Here, wear this.” Jonas pulled an old military coat from the floor behind his seat and handed it to me. It smelled vaguely of oil and musky male; it wasn’t Jonas’s scent, but someone else’s. Someone I hadn’t met yet. “It belongs to Micale, our mechanic, but I’m sure he won’t mind you borrowing it.”

I raised my eyebrows as I pulled the coat on. It was about two sizes too large, but right then I wasn’t caring, given it was also thick and warm. “You own this thing?”

“We do. It comes in handy if we are hired for work outside of Central.”

“And does that happen often?”

He flashed me another of those all-too-fleeting grins. “Often enough to warrant owning an ATV.”

I half smiled. “So where do you keep it? Obviously not in Chaos.”

“No. Aside from the fact it’s too wide to get through the lower-level streets, leaving any piece of technology unguarded in that place is just an open invitation for scavengers to help themselves.”

“So you keep it in Central?”

“Maybe.”

Frustration rolled through me, but I could hardly complain about his not directly answering questions when I was doing exactly the same thing. The GPS began to ping softly, and I glanced down as the screen came online. Our destination was a little circle of red we were rapidly approaching. Jonas switched back to manual mode, then pulled off the road and drove into the scrub. The ATV’s treads crashed their way through the undergrowth, leaving a thick trail of destruction behind us.

“There’s little point of remaining in stealth mode right now,” I commented. “Anyone with decent hearing is going to hear this thing ripping through the forest a mile away.”

“Which is why,” he said, hitting the kill switch, “we walk from here.”

The ATV came to a halt and the doors raised. I grabbed my pack and climbed out. The air was thick with the scent of eucalyptus and freshly churned dirt, and the light uneven. I glanced upward; all that was visible was a sea of mottled green. Bright shafts of sunlight stabbed through the canopy, spearing downward but not really lifting the deeper gloom of the forest floor.

Jonas locked down the ATV, then shouldered his rifle and said, “This way.”

“Have you been to this base before?” I had to run to catch up with him. He was moving fast, and with all the stealth of a hunter.

It was a stealth I didn’t possess.

“Once.”

“When?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes bright in this shadowed place. “Does it matter?”

“It does in that it gives us pointers as to when this place was infested.” If it was infested, that is.

“It wasn’t when I was here. Not with vampires, anyway.”

That odd edge of anger was back in his voice, and I frowned. “Meaning what?”

“Nothing.” He paused, then added, “The ATV might have made a bit of noise, but you’re not exactly quiet yourself.”

“Given I’m not a trained soldier or ranger, that’s not surprising,” I snapped. “If you want me to be quiet, then we need to go a bit slower.”

“A vampire’s deepest sleep cycle hits at midday; if they are in that bunker, then that’s our best time to explore.” His voice was grim. “That gives us fourteen minutes to get there.”

“And how many miles do we have to traverse?”

“Only two.”

I swore softly, caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and motioned him on. He instantly disappeared into the forest. I followed as fast and as silently as I could.

We made it to the base in thirteen minutes; it wasn’t the stuff of world records, but it was still pretty damn fast.

I stopped beside Jonas, my breath a harsh rasp that seemed to echo across the shadowed silence. The mountain slid away from our position under the trees, sweeping down into a low, cleared valley. The building that stood in the center of it was squat, long, and unremarkable. It was little more than an ugly concrete rectangle with no windows and very little in the way of distinguishing features. There was certainly no evidence that this place had once been a large and active military base.

And yet it had been from here that the humans—with several battalions of déchet—had brought the war to the shifter’s homeland in a last-ditch effort to defeat them on their own turf.

It was a move that had gone very badly not only for the déchet and the humans stationed here, but for the war itself. The base had lasted only five months before a retreat had been ordered, and that retreat had signaled the beginning of the end for both human hopes of winning, and for my kind.

“Is that the place?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “It doesn’t look like much.”

“Not on the surface it doesn’t,” he said. “But like most human military bases, the business end is mostly underground.”

“How do we get in?” There were two exits that I knew of, one at the far end of the building, and another in the trees on the opposite side of the valley. But given I wasn’t supposed to know anything about this place, I could hardly admit to knowing about either.

“Certainly not through the main entrances,” he said. “They’ll have security on those for sure.”

“Then how?”

“Through an old blast break.” He shifted his rifle from his shoulder to his left hand; the safety, I noted, was now off. “Keep an eye out. If someone in Central is working with the vamps, then it’s possible they’ve set up additional security around the perimeter.”

“Surely the shifter communities would have picked something like that up.” I unslung my own rifle and followed him down the hill. “They still do regular patrols around here, don’t they?”

He shook his head. “Not really. The packs and prides that call these mountains home tend to avoid the old bases, be they human or shifter.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “They are a reminder of a past most would rather forget.”

“If you forget the past, you only end up repeating it,” I said. “History is evidence enough of that.”

He glanced at me. “So you have nothing in your past you would rather forget?”

My smile held little in the way of humor. “Haven’t we all?”

He half shrugged. “I suspect you and I have more than our fair share, though.”

That was undoubtedly true. “I was speaking generally rather than personally.”

“I know.” He motioned to the right of the building. “The blast shaft is over this way.”

We made our way down the hill. The grass was still dew-kissed despite its being close to ten, meaning we left a very clear trail behind us. But as Jonas didn’t seem worried about it, there was little point in my being so.

The grass gave way to gravel as we neared the base. The pitted concrete walls loomed above us, thicker and higher than they’d seemed from the valley’s rim. We kept to the shadows of the wall, moving in single file toward the western edge. The silence seemed heavy and oddly uneasy this close to the building, and I had a feeling we were not the only ones awake and aware in this place.

I flexed the fingers of my free hand and tried to relax. If there were watchers here, then surely Jonas would be aware of them. He was a ranger, after all, and trained for this sort of thing. Given that he wasn’t reacting in any way, either I was imagining things or our watchers were friendly.

He stopped about ten feet shy of the end of the building and motioned upward. “We can access the break from here.”

“And just how are we going to get up there? Neither of us have wings, and you didn’t bring any ropes.”

“Cats don’t need ropes, and I can boost you up.”

I had cat genes and I certainly couldn’t have leapt that high—the top of the wall was a good twenty feet or more away. That was one hell of a boost up.

“Come on,” he said, hunkering down and cupping his hands. “We’re running out of time.”

In more ways than one, I suspected. But I slung my rifle back over my shoulder, then placed a foot into his hands and lightly touched his shoulders for balance.

“Ready?” he said.

I nodded, my gaze on the building’s edge high above us. Without warning, he thrust up, and I was suddenly soaring into the air. A heartbeat later, something sleek and black raced past me, seeming to defy gravity as it ran up the pitted concrete wall and disappeared over the edge. An edge, I suddenly realized, I wasn’t going to make . . .

I made a grab for it anyway, but missed and, just for an instant, I seemed to hang in midair, going neither up nor down. Then gravity reinforced itself, and I began to drop. I slid my fingers against the concrete, trying to find something to grab on to, but there was nothing . . . then another hand wrapped around mine and my fall came to an abrupt halt.

“Got you,” Jonas said and, with a grunt of effort, hauled me up and over the edge.

The minute I was safe, he released me and rose. “Wait here. I’ll go check the break.”

I nodded, not about to admit that I really couldn’t have done anything else right then. While I’d never been afraid of heights, I wasn’t a fan of falling from them, even if my genes generally meant I landed on my feet.

I took several deep breaths to calm the butterflies in my stomach, then pushed to my knees and looked around. The roof was concrete like the rest of the building, but it was mostly covered with long drifts of leaves and other forest debris. At this end of the building, however, the concrete that was visible was black and riddled with cracks and large potholes. Bomb damage; obviously, though, the bombs used here had not been the ones they’d used on Carleen and the other satellite cities. This place would not be standing here in this condition if they had.

“Okay,” Jonas said. He was squatting next to what looked to be a particularly large fissure near the other edge. “It looks like we’re in the clear.”

I rose and walked over. The break was about three feet wide and double that in length, and it dropped down into a darkness that was thick and foul, but free from the scent of vampire.

“Are you sure this leads into the main base?”

“Yes.” He glanced up. “You ready?”

No, I wasn’t. Although I was well aware that we needed to figure out whether this place was the base I’d discovered earlier, I had no desire to enter it. And it wasn’t just the fear of the vampires. There was something within the darkness, an awareness that edged toward anger.

There were ghosts here, ghosts who were not only resentful but, I suspected, violent.

“Tiger?”

My gaze rose to his. “Vampires are not the only things we have to worry about in this place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ghosts?”

I nodded. “They’re filled with anger. We need to step lightly around their resting places and make sure we do not disturb their bones.”

“I’ll be as respectful as possible. Are you ready?”

I nodded. He gripped the edge of the fissure and dropped down. After a moment, he said, “Okay, your turn.”

I took a deep, somewhat shuddering breath, then gripped the edge of the fissure and fell into the heavy darkness.