Chapter 11

I landed in a half crouch and swept my gaze across the deeper shadows beyond the small puddle of light filtering in through the fissure. The air was thick and foul here, and entrenched with the scent of death. Old death, not new. There was no indication of vampires, however, nor did there appear to be anyone or anything else in the near vicinity.

I rose and stepped away from the light. The room was large and square and contained nothing more than forest and concrete debris. There were no furniture remnants, no evidence that there had ever been power or light in this room, and only one door—a big sturdy metal thing that had been torn away from its hinges and now lay on its side to the left of the doorway.

It wasn’t a room I was familiar with. But then, as a déchet, I’d been escorted into this place via the tunnel in the woods, and kept to the lower service and medical areas.

“Where are we?” I unslung my rifle and held it ready.

“The gas chamber.” His voice was soft, but it held a note that chilled me to the core.

“The gas chamber?”

“That’s what we called it.” He glanced at me. His expression was set—cold—but his eyes gleamed with a rage as old as the scent that surrounded us. “We lost a lot of people in this place the first time we breached it.”

I frowned. That had almost sounded as if he’d been here . . . and yet, he wasn’t that old. He couldn’t be that old. It would make him easily more than one hundred years old, and even shifters didn’t hold their age that well. “We?”

He waved a hand dismissively and moved to the doorway. “It was a historical ‘we,’ not me personally.”

That made sense, but I had a feeling it wasn’t exactly the truth. That he’d actually meant what he’d said, impossible or not.

“So why was it called the gas chamber?” I followed him across the room and peered over his shoulder. His rich scent filled my nostrils and provided brief relief to the foulness otherwise filling my lungs.

The hall beyond was about four feet wide and seemed to roll on endlessly, with no other exits evident. It was a perfect place to trap someone if ever I saw one.

“Because that’s what they did, both in this place and in that hall.” He moved forward cautiously.

I went with him, watching every step, being careful not to stand on or kick any debris that might give away our position if there was someone hiding within the bowels of this place.

“Gas only works once,” I said. “Wearing masks the second time would surely have fixed that problem.”

“Except they used Draccid, and we had no protective gear against that drug at the time.”

Draccid. I shuddered and briefly closed my eyes. Tears stung my eyes as the screams of the little ones once again echoed through my memories, and I clenched my fists against the urge to lash out at the man moving so silently in front of me. He wasn’t responsible for that destruction, even if he belonged to the race that was.

But at least I now knew how the shifters had gotten hold of that gas—when they’d finally defeated this place, they’d obviously found stores of it.

“How was base taken, then, if not through this breach?”

“We found the secondary tunnel. It was protected with more traditional methods, but a few well-placed mortars soon fixed that.”

“I’m guessing by then, the humans had evacced.”

“The humans had, but not the déchet.”

Of course, I thought bitterly. Rifle fodder was what déchet had been designed for, after all.

“There’s another door up ahead,” he continued, “and an exit into the main bunker not far beyond it.”

“If this is the bunker I discovered, then the vamps will be in the lower service levels, where the labs and regimental bunks are.”

He briefly glanced over his shoulder. “You know this how?”

I gave him a thin smile. “I live in a human military bunker, remember? I have no doubt they were all built along similar guidelines.”

He grunted but didn’t look convinced by my answer. No surprise there, given he generally didn’t believe anything I said.

We finally reached the door at the far end of the long corridor. Like the one behind us, it had been torn off the hinges and now lay several yards away in the next corridor—but this time the damage looked new rather than a product of a war long past.

Jonas ran a finger across the frame that held the string-like remnants of what once had been thick industrial hinges.

“Are vampires strong enough to do something like that?” I asked, frowning.

“No, but some of the Others can.”

“Then I can only pray to Rhea that I never come across one of those creatures.”

“You wouldn’t know much about it if you did.” He rubbed his fingers together, and a look of distaste crossed his features. “Thankfully, the thing that did this is probably dead.”

“How can you tell?”

“There’s blood on the hinges and sprayed across the wall to our right. Their blood, like a vampire’s, has acid-like qualities; you can see the path of its spray by the stained pitting in the concrete.”

“The Others would only enter this place if there was something to hunt. That might be all the proof we need that this is the base at the end of that false rift.”

“Hardly, given there’s more than one old military base in the country.”

“But it wasn’t mine, and the only other base within reasonable distance to Central—”

“We go nowhere,” he cut in, voice flat and edged with finality, “until we’re sure this is the bunker you discovered.”

We did things his way, or else, it seemed. “And if it is?”

“Then we arrange a little cleansing party.”

There was a note of . . . not anticipation, but something close to it, in his voice, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m not going to be a member of that party. I’m not a soldier, Jonas, and I want no part of that sort of action.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Even if it helps free the missing children?”

“The children weren’t at the base I discovered.”

“You can’t be sure of that, given you only saw a small section of it before you set off the alarm and the vamps attacked.”

“The Carleen ghosts said the children had been moved. Besides, the only scent in the air was that of the vampires, and that wouldn’t have been the case if the children had been there recently.”

“Maybe they’re being held on another level. The ventilation system isn’t active, remember, and even I couldn’t smell the scent of humanity through the thick layers of concrete in this place.”

The ventilation system might not be working, but there was fresh air getting to the lower levels. Even vampires couldn’t survive forever on foul air.

But I didn’t bother pointing it out. Jonas had moved on, anyway.

We walked silently through the network of corridors and stairwells. Four levels down, we began to find the bodies. Or rather, the battered remnants of what once had been bodies. The ghosts of those who’d died here flitted across the edges of my vision, and though they made no move to stop us, their fury and bitterness grew, until it became a physical weight that made both my body and heart ache.

We mean you no harm, I said, in an effort to ease the force of their emotions. We merely seek information about the children who were recently stationed in this place.

Images flooded my mind—images of death and destruction, of the blood that had soaked the walls of this place and flooded the floors. Images of the fallen who, even after death, had been given no peace, no final resting place, but rather had their bodies hacked to pieces and their parts scattered, simply because the shifters had falsely believed that déchet could rise even after death.

My stomach rose and I stumbled several steps, scattering leg bones as I battled not to lose everything I’d eaten for breakfast.

Jonas immediately swung around. “What’s wrong?”

“The ghosts,” I somehow said, in between huge gulps of air. It didn’t ease the need to be violently ill, given the air was as foul as the images flooding my mind.

He frowned. “Are they projecting?”

“And how.” I pressed a hand against the wall, but it was slick and cold, despite the blood that oozed warmly across my fingertips . . .

It was all I could do not to jerk my hand away. It wasn’t real, it was memory. Their memory, not mine. And memories couldn’t hurt me.

But the ghosts could. If their anger got strong enough, if the energy they were creating got fierce enough, they could very easily tear me—tear us both—apart.

“You need to get out of here,” I said abruptly.

“Not until we’re sure—”

“Now,” I said, cutting him off. “Before they decide to do more than simply flood my mind with images.”

“But why would the ghosts . . .” He stopped, and understanding dawned in his eyes. “We did this to them.”

“Yes,” I said. “You did. And your presence in this place, where what is left of them rests, is very unwelcome. Retreat while you can, shifter; I’ll continue on alone.”

“That may not be wise—”

“What other choice have we got?” Another wave of anger and imagery flooded my mind and made me shudder. “Contact Nuri once you get back to the surface. If this is the bunker I found, then she will have to appease these ghosts before any of you are able to deal with the vampires.”

He hesitated, then nodded and resolutely moved toward the stairwell. I waited to see if the ghosts followed, but they seemed content to remain here, where death had found them.

I am not shifter, I said. I am what you were—déchet. I’m sorry you were murdered in a manner such as this, but I do not deserve to bear the brunt of your bitterness.

Their anger, if anything, increased. My surviving when they hadn’t was not a point in my favor, apparently.

I swore softly and called to the shadows within me, letting them wrap around my body and make me one with the darkness rather than flesh. It didn’t ease the force of their empathic attack, but it at least allowed me to move with greater speed through the place.

I flowed down through the levels quickly and silently, finding no hint of vampires or, indeed, anything or anyone else. Just a lot more bones and ghosts. Thousands had to have died there in an effort to hold that place; no wonder the war had gone ill for humanity after its fall.

Two more levels down, I found the vampires.

There were only eight of them in this section, and they were curled up on the floor in what looked like an old storeroom. Scattered around their sleeping bodies was not only the debris of the dead, but boxes and furniture remnants from the base itself.

I didn’t stop; I didn’t dare. Not when doing so risked one of them sensing my presence and raising the alarm. Besides, I needed to discover whether this was the place the false rift had deposited me.

Nuri and Jonas could uncover whatever else might be here. If this was the base of operations for whatever they were doing to the children—and the newness of the lab I’d found certainly seemed to indicate that was the case—then surely there’d be files to find, at the very least.

I moved down to the next level and quickly explored it. The metal walls of the corridor and rooms became slick and rusty, reminding me of the ones I’d seen beyond the room that had held the false rift. My heart began to race a little faster; this might be it.

I moved cautiously through another doorway, and encountered a sea of unmoving flesh. Vampires, at least two score of them. I hesitated, but really had no choice but to keep exploring. Just because there were more vampires here didn’t mean I was in the right place.

But the next level down, I found both the corridor and laboratory I’d seen earlier. Relief spun through me, but it was mixed with trepidation. I’d already had to fight for my life in this place once; I had no desire for a repeat session.

Even so, I hesitated at the T intersection, looking toward the room that held the false rift, tempted to go check if it was still there. But there’d been far too many vampires clustered in the rooms leading off the corridor, and the thick sensation of them certainly hadn’t eased any since then.

In the end, caution won out. I spun and retreated, as fast as I could. My task here was done. Everything else was now up to Nuri and Jonas.

When I’d reached the upper levels and had finally moved beyond the fury of the ghosts, I regained flesh form and ran up the final few flights of stairs until I reached the fissured room. Jonas wasn’t here, but I could hear him moving around above. I slung my rifle over my shoulder, then leapt up and gripped the edges of the fissure. A heartbeat later, hands grabbed mine and I was swung up onto the roof.

“Well?” he immediately said. “Is this the place or not?”

“It is.” I pulled my hands free from his, but the warmth of his touch seemed to linger as I stepped back. “But there’s at least fifty vampires between this point and those labs.”

He grimaced. “That is not so good.”

“No.” I glanced at the sky. Given the position of the sun, it was already well after two in the afternoon. And it was going to take us several hours, at least, to get back to Central. “You’re not going to have the time to do anything this afternoon, anyway.”

“No. Nuri’s ordered us back to Chaos, anyway. She’s gathering reinforcements and equipment for a raid tomorrow morning.”

“As I’ve already said, I’m not taking part in that raid.”

“Because you’re not a soldier?” He snorted and shook his head. “I’ve seen you fight, so forgive me for not believing that. I doubt there’s many a trained soldier as good as you.”

That’s because I had been trained to fight—it just wasn’t my primary purpose. But I couldn’t exactly admit that. “Just because I’ve grown adept at fighting vampires doesn’t mean I’ve had any meaningful training.”

“Agreed, but it’s vampires and ghosts we face here, and you’re very good against one, and can sense—if not reason with—the other. Both of those skill sets are bonuses on this sort of mission.”

“I’m not coming back here with you, Jonas—end of story.”

“I could leave you here.”

“You could, but even then you can’t force me inside. Not if you want to avoid alerting the vampires.” I hesitated, then added, “Besides, I need to keep close to Sal, given there’s a damn good chance he’s involved in all this.”

Jonas didn’t immediately comment, and his expression, as usual, gave little away. I had an odd feeling he was once again conversing with Nuri—and that meant their connection was very strong indeed. Telepathy usually had distance limits, which was why, during the war, lures had been assigned “monitors” who relayed the information back to base. Eventually he said, “That is a logical step, I suppose.”

“You don’t know how glad I am that you and Nuri agree with me,” I said, rather sarcastically.

Amusement flirted with his lips, and it briefly lifted the unforgiving shadows that seemed so prevalent in his bright eyes. It made me wish, once again, that he’d smile for real, and more often.

But maybe it was a good thing he didn’t. I was attracted enough to the damn man now, despite the layers of distrust he aimed my way. I didn’t need the ice between us melting, not in any way, shape, or form.

“Given we plan a raid tomorrow, it ultimately makes sense we keep an eye on the players. Or at least the one we’re aware of at this point.” He spun his heels and headed for the end of the building.

“Which is why I asked the little ones to keep an eye on him today,” I said, following him. “They’ll report back to me at dusk.”

“Good idea,” he said, “but why not keep them on him twenty-four/seven?”

“Because while they may be ghosts, they aren’t adults. Bear was right on puberty at death, and Cat was only seven. Ghosts don’t grow and they don’t age, they just remain as they were when they died. I don’t know how shifters bring up children, but I don’t let my little ones roam around after dark, especially given the vampires’ recent attacks on our home.”

“Neither do we.” He paused at the edge of the building and glanced at me. “Do you need a hand down?”

I shook my head, turned around, and—ignoring the butterflies taking flight in my stomach—slowly lowered myself over the edge. Once I was at full arm stretch, I let go and dropped the rest of the way, landing lightly. Jonas just leapt down, his fingers barely brushing the soil as he quickly balanced and moved on.

“But,” he added, “your little ones are ghosts. There’s not much that can hurt them.”

“Maybe, but they are still little, even if Bear likes to think himself more of an adult than barely a teenager. And like all kids, they get scared.”

“It’s hard to imagine ghosts capable of emotions and fear,” he said, “especially when those ghosts were déchet.”

“Then maybe déchet aren’t what the rumors and fairy tales would have you believe.”

He snorted. “Oh, they are, and that’s coming from experience rather than reading material.”

“Meaning you were in the war? You may look a little battered around the edges, shifter, but I doubt you’re that old.”

“My father was in the war, as was my uncle, and both encountered déchet more than a few times. It scarred them more than just physically.”

There was a note in his voice—a hint of ice and utter hate—that sent chills across my skin. If he ever confirmed his suspicion that Penny was right, that I was déchet . . . I shivered and thrust the thought away. He wouldn’t find out.

But Nuri, as an earth witch and seeker, certainly could if I wasn’t very careful in her presence.

“The humans didn’t actually start the war, shifter. Your people did. Humans just made sure they had a reasonable chance of fighting back.”

He snorted again. “So creating unfeeling monsters was a reasonable response, was it?”

“There were monsters on both sides,” I snapped back. “Shifters were hardly saints themselves, even if history has been rewritten to state otherwise.”

He cast me a look that could be described only as contemplative. “It almost sounds as if you were there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I look that old to you?”

“No, but you’re a shifter capable of full-body transformation—who actually knows what you look like?”

“I was wearing my true form when I brought Penny to Chaos—”

“A form I didn’t see as I was unconscious,” he cut in.

“But you saw it later, when you and Nuri questioned me in the cell. As I said, do I actually look that old to you?”

“No. But then, we’ve established the fact you’re not exactly telling us the whole truth. This could be just another of a long line of subversions and half lies.”

“And I’m not the only one doing that, am I?”

“We have told you nothing but the truth.”

“Except for those times when you avoid it. Like when I asked just how connected you are to the government.”

“We aren’t.”

“Liar.”

He half shrugged. “You are free to believe what you wish.”

“And I will, just as you may, shifter.”

“At least we have reached agreement on something,” he muttered, and, from there on in, increased his pace.

I didn’t actually care, because walking at such a fast clip meant I had to concentrate on the path and gave me less time to actually think about the stubborn, angry man in front of me. The trip back to Central was also done in silence, which at least meant I wasn’t running the risk of saying the wrong thing and possibly outing myself.

He stopped at the back of the museum and opened the ATV’s door on my side. I climbed out, then hesitated and met his gaze. “Contact me when you get back from the raid. And good luck.”

“Hopefully we’ll have the raid planned well enough that we won’t need luck.”

I hoped he was right, but a whole lot could happen in the time between now and their raid tomorrow. I stepped away from the ATV as he hit the door-close switch, and watched until it had disappeared through the trees before spinning around and heading for the bunker’s exit.

Dusk was just beginning to drift pink-and-lemon fingers across the sky by the time I arrived. Thankfully, the grate was still in one piece, and no ghosts waited for me, which meant nothing untoward had happened during the day.

I entered the tunnel, deactivating the electro-nets as I approached each one, then resetting them once I’d passed. With that done, I headed for the bunk rooms. I needed to wash the day’s grime from my body, although all I really wanted to do was drop into my bunk and sleep for a good ten hours. It had been a long day today, and an even longer night last night, and I was running close to exhaustion.

The ghosts rallied around me as I exited the nursery sections, and began bombarding me with images of everything they’d done during the day. Mostly they’d spent the time in the museum, following the visitors and gossiping about them, but occasionally they amused themselves by moving items placed in one spot by museum staff to another.

“Are Cat and Bear back yet?” I asked once they calmed down a little.

A wash of negativity ran through my mind, rapidly followed by worry. “They’re okay,” I added quickly. “They’re just on a mission for me. Keep an eye out for them.”

Some of the older youngsters rushed away immediately to return to the main tunnel and keep watch, but most of the littler ones stayed with me, happily filling me in on everything else they’d seen and done during the day.

I was out of the shower and just pulling on a tank top by the time Cat and Bear arrived. Their excitement and happiness stung the air and I couldn’t help smiling. They’d not only enjoyed their assignment, they wanted to do it again tomorrow.

I sat cross-legged in the middle of my bunk and patted the blanket on either side of me. “Tell me what he did.”

Their images began to flow through my mind. Sal hadn’t immediately left Hedone after he’d bundled me out the door, but had instead gotten back on the com unit and made a rather long phone call.

“To whom?” I cut in. “Did you catch a name?”

Cat’s energy ran across my skin, briefly connecting us on a more direct level. No, she said, her voice soft and sweet, we didn’t get close, in case he sensed us. But it was a woman.

Meaning it was more than likely the woman who’d been caught in that rift with him. “Thanks, Cat.”

Her energy retreated, and the images ran on. After the long conversation with the woman, Sal changed and headed downstairs to Hedone, spending several hours doing paperwork and talking to customers and personnel.

It wasn’t until the early afternoon that he’d left and walked directly to a glass-fronted, ten-story building. The name Winter Halo flashed into my mind, and I swore and briefly closed my eyes. Despite everything, part of me had hoped I’d been wrong, that he wasn’t involved, that he and I could go on as we always had, as friends and lovers.

But I guess surviving the war and remaining undiscovered was all the good luck the goddess Rhea was going to extend my way.

“Did he see anyone while he was in there? Talk to anyone?”

The image of a tall, thin-faced man with dark hair, shadowed skin, and oddly magnetic blue eyes flashed into my mind. With it came a thick sensation of uneasiness. My ghosts hadn’t liked this stranger’s feel or presence.

“Why?” I asked. “What was it about him you found so unsavory?”

This time it was Bear who touched my skin and formed a deeper connection. No surprise there, given the toll it took on them to initiate contact like this. My initiating it—as I had when I’d talked to the Carleen ghosts—drained me, not them, though why it worked that way I had no idea.

He feels strange. Bear’s voice broke slightly, a physical sign of puberty and one he was eternally stuck in.

Like a vampire feels strange?

No. Vampires feel like the dead. This was . . . He hesitated, and I felt his mental shrug. Alien. It was almost as if he didn’t belong in our world.

Jonas had said that the darkness I’d seen in Sal’s mind—the one that had caught all four people and forever changed them—had been a rift. And while some rifts simply did nothing more than rip apart anyone or anything unfortunate enough to get in their way, many were gateways by which the Others entered our world.

And Jonas had also said that Sal’s scent had undertones that reminded him a little of those creatures.

Which more than likely meant I’d guessed right—the fourth person I’d seen had been one of the Others. It would also explain why they’d killed him so quickly. But it meant Sal now had that creature’s DNA in him, and surely to Rhea I would have sensed a change as big as that.

Or would I?

Over one hundred years had passed since I’d last seen him, and that was more than time enough for memories to become rose-colored and unreliable.

Bear’s touch retreated, and the images resumed. Whoever Sal had seen inside Winter Halo had not been happy. Neither of the ghosts had been close enough to catch the conversation, but the other man had certainly been animated. On body language alone, it looked like he’d been laying down some ground rules, and that meant Sal wasn’t in charge—not if what I was now seeing was any indication. But why would he be, when we’d been bred to follow rules rather than give them? He may now run several successful brothels, but that didn’t mean he’d entirely escaped his DNA programming—even if it was programming those other two people now shared.

When Sal finally left Winter Halo, he didn’t—as I’d half expected—return to Hedone, but had instead headed straight down Victory Street, away from the first district and toward the twelfth. I had a bad feeling I knew exactly where he’d gone, and the very next image proved me right.

I closed my eyes for a moment and swore softly. Cat’s energy patted my arm, offering sympathy even though I doubted she really understood my anger.

The images rolled on. Sal, heading into Deseo, walking unchallenged through the establishment and down into the basement. He punched a code into the newly fixed security control panel, walked down the steps, and disappeared into the false rift.

There really was no doubt now. Sal was involved with whatever was happening to the children.

“Cat and Bear, you did a great job,” I said. “Thank you very much.”

Their pleasure at being able to help was so strong I could almost see their smiles. They danced about me, eager to repeat their adventure tomorrow.

“Maybe,” I said, “but the first thing we’ll do tomorrow is head to Carleen. We need to find out what Sal was doing, or where he went from there.”

Bear’s energy settled against my skin again, briefly renewing that stronger connection. Why not tonight? Tomorrow gives him too much time to escape.

“He’s not escaping. He can’t.” Why I was sure of that, I couldn’t say. But he and the others seemed very tied to Central, and not only because the businesses they ran were all very successful—a point that made me wonder just what their female partner was involved in. “Besides, we can’t risk moving at night, Bear. The vampires are aware of our presence now, and I have no doubt they’ll be watching our bunker even if they can’t get in.”

Bear wasn’t happy with this decision, but, despite his grumbles, I knew he understood. Just as I knew he had no more desire than me to confront vampires at night, when they were at their strongest. “Tomorrow we’ll head to Carleen and see what the ghosts say. In the meantime, could you keep an eye on the electro-nets I set up in the tunnel? And let me know the minute one of them activates?”

He zoomed off, happy to have something to do. Cat also drifted off, but I could her chattering to the other little ones, no doubt filling them in on their adventures over the day. Smiling, I climbed into bed, shut down the lights, and slept the sleep of the dead.

•   •   •

I woke just before dawn and headed to the main weapons cache. I had no idea what I might find in Carleen now that Sal and his partners were clearly aware that someone not only knew of their activities, but also was actively trying to stop them—and that meant I had to be prepared for any eventuality. So I strapped on as much weaponry as I could physically carry—it was better to be overprepared than underprepared.

The city’s drawbridge was still closed as we made our way through the rail yards, but many of the pods were already humming to life, powering up for the day’s activities. I crossed the main road quickly and moved into the park. Shadows still haunted the more densely treed sections, but Bear assured me that—no matter what my imagination might be saying—there were no vampires lurking in the undergrowth, ready to jump out at us.

It took us a little under an hour to reach Carleen’s broken curtain wall. I scrambled over it and once again moved carefully through the clumps of luminescent moss, avoiding the darker energy of the rifts as I headed toward the road that climbed up to the remains of the town’s main center.

But the Carleen ghosts met me halfway up the hill, and their anger was so fierce it felt as if I’d slammed into a physical wall. I gasped and bent over, suddenly battling to breathe.

“Blaine,” I somehow managed to croak, “the force of your anger is too overwhelming—you need to tell everyone to tone it down.”

The emotive output immediately pulled back. I took several quivery breaths, then dropped the rest of the way to the ground and crossed my legs. The fastest way to find out what had been going on since I’d last been here was to connect directly to them via my ghosts, but it would have to be fast. Creating this type of connection so often in a short space of time was a severe drain on my strength, and I had a bad feeling I would need to be at peak abilities to cope with the crap that was heading my way.

Of course, that same intuition didn’t illuminate exactly what it meant by “crap,” which was damn frustrating.

“Cat, I need your help again.”

I held out my hand. Cat’s energy immediately began to seep into my body and, just as quickly, the chill of death began to creep into my outer extremities.

With the countdown to death begun, I ran my gaze across the figures clustered in the middle of the road until I found Blaine. He was standing to one side of the main group and was accompanied by several others. No matter what the crisis was, it seemed the leaders of this place still preferred to hold themselves apart from the general public.

“What’s the problem?” I said.

“The wraiths came back,” he said. “This time they did more than just shift a false rift. This time they created a wall we cannot get through.”

My gaze jerked to the top of the hill. All I could see were the skeletal remains of once-grand buildings. Certainly there wasn’t any sort of barrier visible—not even that of a false rift. I frowned. “What sort of wall?”

“Magical,” Blaine spat back. “It banned us all from our resting place, and it burns at our bones.”

If it felt as if the magic was burning at their remains, then it was probably some sort of earth magic. But witches capable of using the energy of the earth to power the creation of magic were few and far between, and those capable of twisting that energy to evil purposes even rarer.

But it was scary knowing the people behind the false rifts were apparently capable of doing just that. “How many wraiths were there?”

“Two—one male, one female. It was the latter who performed the magic.”

The chill of death was reaching past my knees. I had to hurry this along. “And they were both wraiths?”

“In appearance, yes, although they were speaking common tongue.”

If they were speaking, then despite appearances they certainly weren’t wraiths, as wraiths had no mouths. But then, I didn’t really expect them to be. Not after everything I’d learned over the last day or so.

I imagined Sal’s facial features in my mind, superimposed the larger eyes and grayer skin of a wraith, and then pushed the image out to the ghosts. They immediately began to stir and mutter, answering my question before I even asked it. But I asked it anyway, just to be certain. “And is this one of them?”

“Yes,” Blaine said immediately. “You know him?”

“I thought I did.” My voice was grim. “Did they do anything other than raise the wall and boot you out of your resting place?”

“Yes. They moved the children.”

“They what?”

“Moved the children. Five were taken by the male into a rift; the other eight were taken by the women into the vehicle she arrived in.”

I could understand their splitting the children to help prevent a total disruption of their plans in the event of discovery, but why split them so unevenly? “What sort of vehicle?”

He shrugged. “It was a large ATV, military in design but not holding military registration.”

Why would they take five through a rift, and the others in an ATV? None of this was making any sense—unless, of course, they were preparing a trap. “What sort of registration did it have?”

“Government.”

“Government?” I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice. “Are you sure of that?”

His smile was thin. Humorless. “Yes. I was an official here in Carleen, remember. Military vehicles were often used to ensure our safety, especially in the latter parts of the war.”

The ice had reached my thighs and was beginning to leach through my torso, making it difficult to think, to move. To breathe. I needed to end this.

Fast.

And yet I couldn’t. There were still too many things I needed to know. “Which direction did the ATV go when it left here?” I hesitated, then added, “I’m presuming it did leave?”

“Yes. It went toward Central.”

For the second time in as many seconds, shock ran through me. “Central?”

He nodded. “We followed them to the boundary, but no farther. They were heading through the park, moving toward your city. Whether they actually continued in that direction, we cannot say. We prefer not to leave the boundary of our home.”

Most ghosts didn’t. Bear and Cat were a rarity in that regard, and it was undoubtedly due to the fact that they’d died in my arms.

“And the . . .” My breath caught in my throat and froze the rest of the question in place. Panic surged, but a heartbeat later, I sucked in a breath and quickly said, “Other three—which rift did they go through?”

“The one that remains outside the barrier the gray witch raised.” Concern crossed his expression. “You had best end this conversation, unless you have a sudden desire to become one of us.”

“I don’t, but thanks for your help.”

He bowed and, as Cat’s energy began to pull away, quickly added, “Find these people. Stop them.”

It was all I could do to say, “I plan to.”

With Cat’s connection gone, I slumped backward and stared up at the matte gray skies, sucking in air and waiting for the chill of death to leave my body and for feeling to creep back into my limbs. My two little ghosts pressed against me, offering the comfort of their presence as much as their energy, but I had no intention of pulling on their strength to restore mine.

After what seemed like ages, the shivering stopped and I felt strong enough to stand. I stared up at the long road rising ahead of us, then resolutely pushed myself on.

It was a tedious climb in my weakened state, and I was sweating heavily and shaking with fatigue by the time I got to the top. I seriously had to take time out to heal myself; I might have had a good night’s sleep, but it wasn’t enough to restore me at a cellular level, and that’s what I needed right now. If I didn’t heal, I was going to be in big trouble—especially if I hit trouble.

I paused at the top of the hill and looked around. The dark energy of the false rift that hovered around the resting place of the ghosts was easy enough to spot, but I couldn’t see or feel anything that indicated there was any type of magic at work here. Certainly there didn’t appear to be anything that would prevent my moving closer.

But as I tried to step forward, Bear spun in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. Red flashed through my mind—a warning of danger.

I frowned and raised a hand, carefully pressing one finger forward. I was almost at full stretch when a thin strip of green light leapt up from the broken road surface and snatched at my finger. I jerked it away quickly, but the sliver followed, reaching for me, its feel foul and somehow corrupted. I ran backward, afraid to turn my back on the thing, and, after several steps, the sliver faded away. I sighed in relief and said, “Thanks, Bear.”

He whisked lightly around me, seemingly amused that he could see what I could not. “How far around this hill does it go? Could you check?”

He was off in an instant. “Cat, do you want to check how high the barrier reaches? Just be careful not to get too close.”

Her energy kissed my right cheek, and then she was gone. I crossed my arms and stared at the foul darkness that now dominated Carleen’s main square. Why would they put it here? Why not simply leave it where it was and just erect another earth-fueled barrier around it?

I rubbed my forehead wearily. I didn’t understand these people, but then, that wasn’t really surprising given I had a hard time understanding anyone who could hurt children.

Which made my attraction to Jonas all the more troubling. It was his people who’d used the worst possible method to destroy everyone in my bunker. I should be so repelled by him that I couldn’t stand to be in his presence rather than the opposite being true. And while I’d like to blame my DNA programming, I suspected there was a whole lot more going on than just that. I’d spent a lot of time in shifter camps during the war, and no shifter had snared my interest this way. Nor had any of those I’d chosen to lie with afterward. So why was he different? Was it the darkness within him? Or was it simply a matter of wanting someone I knew I could never have?

Bear returned and the image of a green wall surrounding the entire top part of the hill flashed into my mind. A couple of seconds later, Cat joined us. The wall was apparently two trees high. Which maybe meant I could get over it, but not in daylight. It would have to be done at night, when I was able to shadow and move as easily as the vampires—and that was something I was loath to do when they were so very aware of our presence in the area.

Which meant there was nothing more I could do here. Not at the moment, anyway. But the day wasn’t a total waste—I now had proof Sal was involved, and that surely meant my next move had to be questioning him.

And once I’d questioned him . . . I closed my eyes against the slither of pain that ran through me.

Once I’d questioned him, I would have to kill him. I couldn’t release him, because he would then come after me. He and his partners were already far too uncertain about my part in the break-ins at their facilities.

Of course, given what they’d been doing here today, it was totally possible that he wouldn’t meet with me. But even as the thought crossed my mind, I brushed it away as nonsense. Sal was a gray—a cool, calm assassin. He wouldn’t flinch at killing me any more than he had the hundreds he’d killed during the war, and who knew how many after. He might regret the loss of our friendship, and he might briefly miss the sex, but his emotional center, like those of the déchet soldiers, had been chemically altered. Perhaps not to the same degree, but it had nevertheless been done.

He wouldn’t miss me as I would miss him.

But before I did anything, I had to get back to full strength. To have any hope of being able to question and kill Sal, I had to be at the top of my game physically and mentally.

I spun on my heel and headed back to our bunker. It took just over an hour to get there, by which time Central’s drawbridge was down and the rail yards buzzed with life. I switched direction and took the long way around, preferring to walk through the dappled light of the small park behind the museum to the crowded confines of the pod platforms.

I finally made it to the tunnel and headed for the main kitchens on level five. The machines were running low on anything resembling fresh food, so I settled on several protein packs, a somewhat less than appealing-looking orange, and a large black coffee. Once I’d consumed those, I returned to the bunkhouse and made myself comfortable on my bed. After asking the ghosts to keep watch, I closed my eyes and focused on nothing more than my breathing, on every intake of air as it washed through my nostrils and down into my lungs. Eventually, the calm healing state began to descend. It took a while, but the persistent, niggling chill that had settled deep into my bones began to ease, and the tiredness that had plagued me over the last day or so began to ebb away.

Eventually, I took a deep breath and pulled myself from the trancelike state. The bunk room was silent; none of the ghosts were near, not even Cat and Bear.

Frowning, I pushed to my feet and walked over to the exit, pressing my thumb against the scanner and waiting with some impatience for Hank to do his bit and open the doors.

The ghosts appeared as I walked into the corridor heading down to the next level. They swirled around me excitedly, everyone chattering at the same time, creating a whirlpool of sound and color and concern.

But not for me.

For the two people who were now standing at our exit grate.

“Guys, calm down.” I waited several seconds for them to do so, then added, “Who is at the grate?”

Images flashed into my mind. One was Nuri, the other was Branna. Both of them were bloody, but Branna looked in particularly bad shape.

I swore softly and ran down into the tunnel, switching off the electro-nets as I went.

“Tiger,” Nuri said, relief in her voice as I appeared. “You need to let us in. You need to help us.”

“Why?” I asked bluntly. “What can I do that you can’t get from Chaos or Central?”

“We can get many things in Chaos, but there’s no working mediscan beds, and Branna will die without one.”

My gaze went to him. There was a rough bandage around his waist, but it was dark and dripping with blood. His left arm had also been bandaged, and even from where I stood it was obvious it had been broken in several spots. And there was a truly vicious-looking wound peeling open on his forehead.

I returned my gaze to Nuri’s. “Central has mediscans, probably far better than the ones I have here.”

“Yes, but Branna, like the rest of us, is outcast.”

“I thought you said no one in Chaos was outcast.”

“Except for us, and those like us. Or, at least, those of us they know about.”

“Meaning what?”

She waved a hand. “That is not important right now. The only thing that matters is the fact that those in Central will let him die rather than treat him.”

I have to admit, I was more than a little willing to let that happen myself, especially given what he had already done to me, and what he no doubt would do if he ever found out what I was.

“Please, Tiger, this is important.”

I hesitated, then said, “Okay. But we keep him sedated even after he’s healed. The ghosts will not appreciate his presence and may well react.”

“Deal.”

Her fast response had me worrying. Was it really wise to let these two into our sanctuary? Was there even a choice now that they were here? They couldn’t remain outside without attracting the sort of attention I wanted to avoid, and there was something in her expression that suggested she wouldn’t leave even if I refused entry. I punched in the code and stepped back as the grate opened.

“Follow the ghosts,” I said, offering Nuri no help. She was a strong woman, and an earth witch besides. If she needed help bearing Branna’s weight, she could pull it from the earth. I had no intention of getting within arm’s reach of the man, even if he was bloody and momentarily broken.

I reset the nets and followed a safe distance behind the two. Nuri hauled Branna into the mediscan nearest the door, then stepped back and eyed the unit somewhat dubiously. “They really are ancient, aren’t they?”

“I did warn you.” The light screen shimmered to life as the bed’s thick foam enveloped Branna. A soft beeping filled the silence; his body might be broken, but there was nothing wrong with his biorhythms, aside from an accelerated pulse rate—no doubt due to his body’s natural healing abilities trying to cope with both his broken bones and the blood loss. I set the scanner into motion, then glanced across to Nuri. “So where’s the third musketeer?”

“Musketeer?” She raised an eyebrow. “I take it you mean Jonas.”

“Yes.” I glanced at the screen as the scanner finished and began listing recommended actions. Despite outward appearances, no major organs had been damaged, and the only real danger he was in was that he was still losing blood too fast.

“I’m afraid he’s the other reason we’re here.”

“Really?” I pressed a couple of buttons; restraints wrapped around Branna’s ankles and wrists. While the scans suggested he was truly out of it, I wasn’t about to take chances. “Why? What has he done?”

“The fool has gone and gotten himself captured.”

My gaze shot to hers. “What?”

Her expression was grim. “Our infiltration of the bunker did not, as you might have guessed, go according to plan.”

“The ghosts?”

She shook her head. “They were easy enough to deal with, despite the fury in their hearts.”

There was something in her expression that had unease crawling through my gut. “Meaning you destroyed them?”

“Those who did not accept the offer to move on, yes.” Her voice held an edge of unexpected ruthlessness. She might be an earth witch, but there was a steeliness in her—a coldness—that was very uncommon. “Our concern right now is for the living. The dead have had their time; they cannot linger here.”

“And is that the fate you plan for those who haunt this place?” My voice was soft, my hands clenched. I had no weapons, but I had the ghosts. And while I had no wish to put any of them in harm’s way by asking them to attack this woman, I could draw on their power. It might not be as powerful or as all-consuming as the force she was capable of, but it was nevertheless deadly.

A cool smile touched her lips. She was well aware of what I could do—and obviously wasn’t concerned.

“What happens to them very much depends on what decisions you make in the next few minutes.”

The ghosts—the warrior ghosts—were gathering. As was their fury. This situation could very easily run out of control if I wasn’t very careful.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, I want you to go back to that bunker and rescue Jonas.”

I snorted. “If the vampires have him, he’s long dead. They tend not to be able to resist the urge to feed when fresh blood is in the offering.”

“He’s not dead,” she said. “He hasn’t even been fed on.”

The certainty in her voice made me frown. “And how can you be sure of . . .” I hesitated, then added, “You’re linked, and it’s more than just telepathy, isn’t it? Because, as far as I know, telepathy has distance restrictions.”

“Yes, it has, and yes, we are. And I will not leave him to whatever fate these bastards have planned for him.”

“Then raise an army and raid the place. You’re living in the middle of Chaos’s mercenary section, for Rhea’s sake—there’s plenty of vampire fodder available there for the right sort of credit.”

“True, but mercenaries are not the answer in this situation. You are.”

The tension in me—around me—continued to build. Energy crawled across my skin, thick with fury and the need to attack. The ghosts didn’t, but I doubted the restrictions of their programming would hold if they truly felt threatened. I drew in a deep breath, knowing I needed to keep a lid on my own emotions if I was to have any hope of controlling that of the ghosts.

“And why would you think that?”

“Because you are what they are.”

Her gaze met mine, and my blood ran cold. She knew. Rhea help us all, she knew. Part of me wanted to run. Part of me wanted to kill her where she stood.

I did neither. I simply said, “And what might that be, Nuri?”

“You are vampire,” she said, voice flat. “Or rather, you are a déchet whose blood runs with the stain of their darkness.”

The energy and fury stinging my skin sharpened abruptly, snatching my breath and making my own seem minute by comparison. Just for an instant, I saw an answering spark run across Nuri’s fingertips—it was fierce and thunderous, and it was warning enough of the power that was hers to unleash. I silently begged the older ghosts for calm—for restraint—and said, “That does not make me invisible to them. That does not mean I could pass through their ranks any more easily than you. The injuries I received when I stumbled into their nest the first time was evidence enough of that.”

“Yes, but it will enable you to get in with some hope of being undetected, and it will also enable you to get Jonas out.”

“And how do you think I’m going . . .” I stopped. She was talking about shadowing. Or, more specifically, shadowing with Jonas. “I don’t even know if something like that is possible.”

“It is, because I’ve seen vampires do it.”

“Just because they can—”

“You are what they are,” she repeated. “And I have read the future in the breeze and the earth, and you are Jonas’s only hope. You will do this. You must, for your sake as much as ours.”

For my sake? Then I thrust the thought aside. Now was not the time to examine such an odd comment.

“Or what?” My voice was flat. Without emotion. Without hope. I knew the answer, because it was the same one that had echoed down through time and history.

“Or,” she said, her voice as emotionless as mine, “I will not only destroy all that you hold dear, but I will send them to a very special kind of hell—one that is usually reserved for the vilest of souls. The choice, dear Tiger, is yours.”