Chapter 6

The metal rang like a bell and the sound echoed loudly in the silence. I moved back and away, keeping to the left of the door as I hastily wrapped a light shield around myself. I wasn’t sure how strong it was or how long it would hold, given the low-grade level of the lights in this place, but it was all I had. The corridors and rooms beyond this one would undoubtedly be brighter, so taking on energy form would be pretty pointless—especially given my reserves weren’t great.

For several seconds, nothing happened. But as the echoes began to subside, the panel on this side of the door sprang to life, quickly running through its various checks before it cleared whoever was on the other side.

I unclipped a gun, flicked the silencer into place, and held it at the ready. The bolts slid back and then the panel flashed green and the door silently opened. No one entered, nor could I see anyone. Not from where I stood, anyway.

But I could hear them breathing. Could sense their tension, expectation, and alert readiness. Whoever these people were, they were well trained.

After a moment, one man in a mottled blue uniform slipped through the door, his movements quiet and fluid.

I closed my eyes and silently swore. Corps. Rhea help me, they were corps.

The first man stopped to the right of the door and silently scanned the room, his rifle raised and ready to fire. After a moment, he motioned to those behind him. Three more slipped in, blue ghosts who quickly and silently moved toward the shelving.

Tension ran through me, but I didn’t move and I kept my gun raised and ready.

The three disappeared into the long metal canyons. The fourth remained near the door and didn’t move. It left me with little choice but to risk slipping past him.

I silently—carefully—pulled off my boots and attached them to the spare hooks on my pants, then padded forward lightly. The stone floor was cold, but better that than the guard hearing my combat-heavy footsteps. Both the corps and the rangers might have learned the art of walking with little sound, but it wasn’t something I’d ever needed.

As I neared the guard, his gaze narrowed and his gun swung toward me. I held still, not daring to breathe. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deeper breath and I knew in that instant he’d sensed me.

I fired. There was nothing else I could do—not when his finger was curling around the trigger. As the bullet tore through his brain, I darted forward, grabbing his rifle first, then a fistful of shirt to ease him gently to the floor.

I had a couple of minutes, if that, before his men realized something was wrong and returned.

I slipped through the open doorway and into the next room. The light here was sun-bright and I quickly drew it around me to strengthen the shield. The room held little more than a series of light panels and a couple of chairs. Two heavily armed guards stood near the barred exit; there was a security panel next to the guy on the right—one that was both a fingerprint and an iris scanner. The two guards had their weapons drawn, though neither showed any awareness of my presence or the fact that someone now lay dead in the room beyond.

My gaze went back to the scanner. My only way out of here was to get past both it and the guards. And finesse wasn’t an option—not when every instinct I had was warning that time was fast running out. I flipped the rifle so that I was holding it by the barrel rather than the butt, then stepped closer and swung it as hard as I could. As the first guard went down I spun and kicked the other in the nuts. He doubled over instantly, clutching himself. I swung the rifle again, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

I hooked the weapon around my shoulders, then grabbed the smaller of the two men and hauled him toward the scanner. I slapped his right hand against the screen and then, once it had registered, shoved his face against the iris scanner and forced a lid open. The scanner did its work and the gate opened.

But I didn’t go through it. Instead, I wrapped my fingers around the guard’s wrist and opened the floodgates on my seeking skills. The question that needed answering was simple—how the hell did I get out of this place?

Images flooded my mind and one thing quickly became apparent—leaving wasn’t going to be easy. The whole place was locked down with scanners. Short of cutting off the guard’s hand and stealing his eyeball, I was stuck. I frowned and dug deeper; learned that there were two emergency exits—one on this side of the building, and one on the other. Thankfully, both were ordinary exits, unfettered by security apparatus.

Sound whispered across the stillness. I glanced at the other room. I couldn’t see anyone, but they were close, so very close.

I rose and ran through the gate. But as I did, blue light flashed and an alarm went off, the sound strident. The damn thing had been equipped with a body mass scanner, and because I hadn’t matched the guard’s registered details, the alarm had gone off.

There was nothing I could do now but run. I pounded down the bright hall, heading for the stairs I’d seen in the guard’s mind, the slap of my feet against the flooring echoing softly. There was little point in being quiet now—the corps knew I was out here.

More guards appeared at the far end of the corridor. Between them and me was the exit I was looking for. I increased my pace, giving it everything I had. The guards stopped and raised their weapons. They might not be able to see me, but they could hear me.

I swore and lunged for the door. There was a sharp blast of noise, and a heartbeat later bullets rained all around me, pinging off the floors, the walls, and into my skin. I thrust the door open and all but dove through it. But I wasn’t safe yet—far from it. I rolled to my feet and ran up the stairs. There was no other choice; I was already at basement level. But I wasn’t aiming for the ground floor, as I had no doubt there’d now be a whole lot more than body scanners awaiting in the main exits out of this place now. My only hope of escape was the roof.

Blood began dripping from the wounds on my arms and legs—wounds I couldn’t even feel thanks to the adrenaline coursing through my body—leaving a trail behind me that would be too easy to follow. It didn’t matter; nothing did but getting to the very top of this building.

I raced up the steps, my gaze on the levels high above me. One level down, then two, then three; at least five more to go . . .

Down at the basement, the exit door crashed back against the wall and men flowed into the stairwell. Time was rapidly running out.

I reached for everything I had and raced on. The stairwell became a blur of concrete and light, the level indicators unreadable.

Two more floors down, then three, four, and finally five . . . the exit door was locked. I slid to a stop, skinning my feet on the hard concrete, and pulled the rifle free. Two shots took the lock out. I raised a bloody foot and kicked the door open. UV light flooded into the stairwell, its touch warm, welcoming.

But I had no time to enjoy it. The guards were only a few floors below me now.

I raced out. The rooftop was filled with lights and photovoltaic cells, a metal forest that wouldn’t do much to hide me in my current condition. I swung left, heading for the building’s parapet, and saw the green of trees beyond it. And knew, without a doubt, where I was.

Government House.

The place where the ruling council met and where most of them had offices.

And Sal’s partners had a direct line into it.

That was information Nuri wasn’t going to be pleased to hear—not that she would hear it if I didn’t get off this building and lose both the corps and the guards.

I wove through the forest of equipment, taking an indirect route to the edge of the building in the vague hope that such a path would at least gain me some time. But I didn’t leap over the edge—even I couldn’t survive an eight-level drop. Not in this form and there was no way I could change to the other. Not when my strength was draining as fast as the blood down my limbs.

I stopped, yanked my boots free, and slapped them on. The only chance I had was not leaving a bloody trail for everyone to follow.

My pursuers had reached the roof; even now they were fanning across it, some following the bloody trail, others ensuring that I could not slip past them.

It was tempting to immediately run—every part of me was quivering to do just that—but it would be pointless given the amount of blood I was losing. I tore open the medipac, pulled out the sealant, and sprayed the worst of the wounds—the ones responsible for leaving the trail. It hurt like a bitch and the nerve endings that had been dormant until now sprang joyously to life. I gritted my teeth against the pain, slapped a bloody hand against the parapet to ensure I left a print, then tossed the empty sealant container over the side. As it tumbled toward the pavement, I walked on, following the parapet around to the left edge. While I wasn’t overly familiar with this part of Central, I knew the buildings along this section of Victory had even tougher height restrictions than those enforced on Second Street. Which meant both Government House and the long white buildings on either side of it were all the same height.

There was a walkway between the next roof and me—a canyon that might be only three meters wide but one that seemed a whole lot more right now in my weakened state. I edged back a couple of steps, then took a deep breath and ran. My leap was high but not quite long enough, and I barely caught the edge of the other building. For several seconds I simply hung there by my fingertips, my body screaming in pain, my lungs burning, and a red mist beginning to form in front of my eyes.

A whisper of sound—a soft footstep—from the other building got me moving again. I somehow hauled myself over the edge and rolled onto the other side, where I wasted several more minutes sucking in air and trying to ignore the pain.

“See anything?” a somewhat metallic voice said.

“No, Captain,” a woman replied. “No indication of blood on this side, either.”

“You and Vince stay there, but watch your back. Whatever magic this woman is using to disappear can’t last much longer. Especially given the blood loss.”

“Righto.”

So they thought I was using magic rather than a light shield to remain invisible, which was at least something, though it was unlikely Sal’s partners would be fooled. And that would undoubtedly mean they’d intensify the security both here and at Winter Halo.

I released the shield, then rolled onto my hands and knees and crawled away. The parapet was giving me cover and I needed to conserve every scrap of energy I could. This roof, like the rest of them in the city, was a metal forest of equipment. The heat and electricity rolling off them quickly dried the blood on my skin and clothes, but even so, there was no way I could enter either Victory or First Street as broken and bloody as I was. I had to find somewhere safe to heal as well as clothes to steal, and I wasn’t going to achieve either of those aims here.

I followed the edge of the building around until I reached the next one. A huge sat dish now prevented the two guards who’d been stationed on this side of Government House from sighting me, and a quick glance over at the next roof told me it was empty.

I gathered the ragged ends of my strength together and formed another sun shield. This time the motes of light were slower in responding, but they did at least respond. I slid over the dividing wall and ran—hobbled—toward the stair entrance. It was locked. I cursed and moved on to the next building—the stairwell door there was also locked.

But the next one wasn’t.

I entered it gratefully and limped down the stairs as carefully as I was able. I had no idea where I was, but if I didn’t find somewhere to recover soon I’d be in trouble. Two flights down I found an entrance into the building. I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and twisted it. Relief flooded through me when the damn thing opened.

The corridor beyond was filled with a harsh white light and people moving back and forth. There were far too many to risk entering; the sun shield might stop them seeing me, but it wouldn’t stop them feeling me if they ran into me—and with so many people about, that was a distinct possibility.

I carefully closed the door and continued down, but the story was the same on the following three floors. The next one was the lobby level according to the sign. Hoping like hell Rhea gave me a break, I cracked open the door and looked out. There were plenty of people in the foyer beyond, but it was also a vast space, leaving me lots of room to move. Unfortunately, the exits were monitored not only by guards, but by body scanners—not surprising given this place, whatever it was, was still close to Government House.

But I had no choice now. It was either go out there or risk repairing myself in this stairwell—and even if I did, I’d still be left with the problem of getting out.

I sucked the sun shield as close to my body as I dared, then slipped out and tucked in behind a silver-suited, dark-skinned gentleman striding toward the exit scanners. The guards nodded as he approached, suggesting he was well-known to them. He stopped, placed his briefcase in a tub, and then stepped through the scanner. I was one step behind him. The scanners—predictably—went off.

The guard stepped forward and politely wrapped a hand around the stranger’s arm. “Sorry about this, my lord, but I’m going to have to ask you to step this way so I can do a personal scan.”

My lord? Even in this part of Central, there were very few people who could claim such a title. Both the royal family and most of the ruling families had been wiped out during the war. As far as I knew, there were only three families left who could still use the lord moniker, though I couldn’t actually name them. This man had to belong to one of them, though, even if he was a shifter rather than human.

I hesitated, glancing at the door, knowing I had to escape while I still could. But the part of me that was a seeker stirred, and the need to see his face rose. I moved around. His hair was close cropped, his eyes as dark as his skin, and his nose rather reminded me of a bird’s beak. It certainly dominated his otherwise unremarkable features. He wasn’t someone I knew, but that wasn’t surprising. Nuri probably would, though.

I spun and followed a cluster of people out the door. No more alarms went off. I was free.

The relief that swept me was so intense my knees threatened to buckle. But while I was free of the building, I wasn’t entirely out of trouble. I needed to find fresh clothes and I needed to heal myself, and I had to do both before my energy ran out and the shield dissipated.

Up the street, the blue-suited corps officers were running toward the buildings on either side of Government House. They’d obviously figured out what I’d done.

I spun and headed left, but the sudden movement left me feeling light-headed. It was a warning I dared not ignore. I limped down Victory Street, heading toward the curtain wall. While I didn’t know much about this section of the city, I knew there’d more than likely be upmarket clothing stores near where First and Second Streets intersected Victory. I might not have enough money to purchase items in such places, but I could certainly steal them.

Which was exactly what I did in the first place I came across.

With that done, I paused and once again looked around. Several doors down was a small, rather ornate-looking apartment building. The gentry were moving in and out of it at a dignified pace, making it easy for me to tuck in behind one of them. Although there were both hand and iris scanners, the doors themselves weren’t equipped with sensors, so no alarms went off. I hesitated again inside the foyer but soon found the perfect target—a young man who seemed to have had a few too many drinks. I followed his stumbling steps into the lift and then into his apartment, and watched as he stripped and all but fell to bed. He was out of it in minutes flat.

I heaved a sigh of relief and released the light shield. The combination of fatigue, pain, and blood loss had reached a point where my body was ready to give out. But I couldn’t let go yet. I staggered through the combined living and bedroom area to what appeared to be the only separate room in the place—the bathroom. By the time I’d stripped off what remained of my clothes and tossed them down the laundry chute, I was on the point of collapse. I stepped into the shower pod and let the combination of hot air and water wash the blood and dirt from my body. It didn’t make me feel any better, but at least I was cleaner. I peeked out the door to check on my unknowing host; his snores were deep and loud, giving every indication he wouldn’t wake up for several hours, at least.

I settled onto the warm tiles and began the deep-breathing exercises that would sink me into the healing state. Thanks to my sheer exhaustion, it took a while, but it eventually happened.

I have no idea how long it took, but when I eventually climbed back to full consciousness, there was still a cacophony of noise coming from the other room. I stood and scanned my body in the mirror opposite. My skin was free of wounds; only the one on my wrist—an old wound caused by the vampires ripping through my body when I’d been shadowed—remained. Obviously, the atoms that had been torn away couldn’t fully be replaced. I guessed I had to be thankful they hadn’t hit somewhere more obvious.

I hadn’t really taken much notice of the clothes I’d stolen—size and shape hardly mattered when I could change either at will—and they turned out to be a larger fit than my natural size. I shifted shape so it matched what was on my RFID chip, changed my scent to a softer, sweeter one, then slipped on the silvery blue, corsetlike top and the soft, swirly skirt. Charles, I thought, with an amused glance at the mirror, would certainly approve—especially the corset portion of the outfit, given it revealed an impressive amount of breast.

I slipped on the sandals, then carefully opened the door again. My host was still sleeping, but the snores had eased off—probably because he was now sleeping on his side rather than his back. I padded across the room and hit the button to open the door. He stirred, but I was out in the corridor and heading for the lift long before he woke. If he was waking, that is.

I strode back out into the street and then hesitated. High above, the night skies were giving way to flags of pink and gold, which meant the drawbridge would still be locked down for the night. There was an inordinate number of people about given the early hour, and many of the shops were open. The corps and the guards were also still out, and they appeared to be checking everyone’s IDs.

It was tempting to swing right and head down the nearest cross street, but that might not be the best move right now. I had no doubt the corps were active throughout the city, and while it was unlikely they’d check the ID of every single person living in this place, they really didn’t have to. Not when they had hound shifters within the corps.

I scanned the street a final time, spotted an open café a few doors down, and walked over. A silver-clad, silver-haired woman greeted me serenely and showed me to a table near the window, then handed me a menu once I was seated. The prices, I noted wryly, were a tad higher than those on Twelfth Street. But then, I was undoubtedly paying for location as much as for the plush and comfortable surrounds.

I ordered bacon and eggs on toast, as well as black coffee, then leaned on my arms and watched the proceedings up the street. The corps had reached the retail sector and were moving from building to building; in each case, two men remained outside while two others went in. It didn’t take them long to reach the café. Tension wound through me as they stepped inside, but I forced myself to ignore them and relax, and smiled up at the hostess as she brought my meal over.

The two corps officers moved to the back of the café, one of them stepping into the kitchen, the other remaining outside. His gaze swept the room and his nostrils flared. Hound, I thought, momentarily meeting his gaze and giving him a brief smile. He didn’t return it.

I tucked in to my meal but could barely even taste it. Every sense I had was locked on to the two men who were now moving from table to table, checking everyone’s RFID chips. Thank Rhea I’d taken the time to change my looks and my scent, both in the basement and up in the apartment.

They eventually reached my table. I glanced up and flashed them a warm smile. “Morning, Officers. How can I help you?”

“We’re conducting an RFID check,” one said, his voice gruff, no-nonsense. “Please present.”

I raised my right wrist. The second man no longer watched me; I’d obviously passed the scent test. The scanner was held over my wrist for several seconds and then the guard checked the screen and grunted.

“All good,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

The two guards checked the remaining patrons, then moved out and on to the next building. I released a long, slow breath and leaned back in my chair. I’d done it. I’d escaped. Rhea was obviously as desperate as the rest of us to rescue those children; it was the only way to explain my near-miraculous escapes of late.

“Everything all right?” the hostess asked, pausing briefly at my table. “Would you like more coffee? Or perhaps some additional toast?”

“Both would be great, thanks.”

I might have healed myself, but I needed to top up the reserves, and the best way of doing that was with food.

It was a good hour later by the time I stepped out of the café. The sun had well and truly risen and there were even more people out on the street, all moving with a serene grace I wished I could echo. I headed for the nearest cross street and walked down to Third. I was in the area, so I might as well familiarize myself with the apartment Nuri had found me.

It was, as she’d said, close to the wall end of Second, not far away from the drawbridge. Like most of the apartment buildings on this street, it was twenty floors high, but extremely thin, and sandwiched by the two buildings on either side of it. The door was print-coded. I hesitated, crossed mental fingers, and then placed my fingers on the scanner. Blue light ran across my hand length, and then the screen beeped and flipped over, revealing a keypad. I typed in the security code Nuri had given me, and after a heartbeat a green light flashed and the door opened.

The foyer beyond, like the building itself, was tiny but plushly decorated in gold and plum tones. There was no guard—a good thing, given I’d supposedly been staying here for weeks. The lift doors opened as I walked toward it and a metallic voice asked for my floor number.

“Seven, please.”

The doors closed and the lift zoomed me up to my destination. I stepped into the carpeted corridor and paused, looking right and left. There were only two apartments here, which I guessed wasn’t surprising, given the width of the place. The one I was after was at the front of the building.

I once again pressed my fingers against the scanner, then punched in the security code. The door slid open, revealing a room that was a combination living and kitchen area. Despite the narrowness of the building, the entire place was bright and spacious—a feeling undoubtedly helped by the mezzanine level stopping well short of the double-height windows, enabling them to flood the room with light. Once again white was the dominant theme in the room, but there were at least splashes of bright color in both the cushions that lined the L-shaped sofa and the sunset pictures that lined the wall.

A circular chrome-and-glass stair was tucked into the corner to my right. I went up and discovered two bedrooms and a bathroom. Neither of them was huge—in fact, there was very little in the way of maneuvering room either side of the bed. I slid open one of the wardrobe doors and discovered an assortment of neatly stacked clothes, all of them silver. I tugged out one of the tunics; it was far too small to fit my new identity, so this room obviously wasn’t mine. I put the tunic back and headed into the other bedroom. It was basically a mirror image of the first, but the silk sheets were a rose rather than silver color, and the clothes in the wardrobe were a range of soft pastels as well as the requisite silver. It made me wonder if Charles preferred his women in items that bore a slight blush of color.

The bathroom was small but perfectly formed, containing not only a shower and a glass sink, but also a hip bath. Water obviously wasn’t so much a concern in this part of Central—or maybe it was simply a matter of the people here being willing to pay the exorbitant prices for a little bit of luxury. I walked back down the stairs, then across to the windows. The view was nowhere near as dramatic as Charles’s, but I did at least have a reasonable view down Third to the drawbridge. It was open, but there was little point of heading back home if the museum was once again filled with people.

I called Cat and Bear, then crossed my arms and leaned a shoulder against the window, enjoying the early-morning warmth. When my two ghosts arrived, they were bursting with news and excitement. Nuri had apparently managed to disengage the wall—not the entire thing, but enough that she, Jonas, and the ghosts could get inside. And while Nuri hadn’t been able to destroy the false rift, she had moved it into the center of the square, away from the resting place of the Carleen ghosts.

Which was a surprising move. While it meant the ghosts would no longer suffer the agony of having their bones stained by the evil that resided within the false rift, there was still the evil of the wall to contend with, and I suspected its unhealthy darkness would do far more damage to the ghosts’ bones than the rift it protected.

“Do you know why she moved it?” Because by doing so, she’d basically informed Sal’s partners there was a witch of some power working in opposition—if they didn’t already know it, that is.

Bear’s energy touched my arm lightly. She said the ghosts had suffered enough. That while she could no longer offer them the choice of moving on, she could at least stop the suffering the rift was causing.

I frowned. Why couldn’t she help the ghosts move on? She’d forced the déchet ghosts in the Broken Mountains bunker to move on, so why not those in Carleen? Why could she move déchet spirits on, and not human? “What are they doing now?”

This time it was Cat who answered. Nuri returns to Chaos to replenish herself. Jonas has gone to the bunker. There are men there again.

“Doing what?”

Deciding whether it is worth the effort of restoring the museum.

Which could be either good or bad news, depending on whether closure meant simply abandoning it or going to the trouble of bulldozing it and then reverting the area to more parkland. Not that they needed more parkland outside the walls. Few people used the current parks, especially these days when the vamps had all but wiped out the wildlife.

“I gather our little ones are keeping an eye on them?”

Amusement spun around me. I had a feeling the engineers were suffering an inordinate number of misplaced tools.

And while Cat and Bear might be oldest of all the children, it was still something of a favorite trick of theirs. Even I wasn’t immune to it, especially when they had nothing else to catch their interest.

I pushed away from the window. Going back to the bunker was now out of the question, so I might as well rest here. It wasn’t like I was going to get a lot of sleep when I met Charles tonight. He might be in his sunset years, he might not have had many lovers of late, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his stamina. “Can you both keep an eye on what is happening on the street? If any corps or guards look set to enter the building, wake me.”

Bear’s energy touched mine briefly. Can we explore the building?

I smiled. “Just don’t forget to keep an eye on the street.”

They spun around me happily, then zoomed off, leaving me wondering if the residents here were also about to suffer an inexplicable number of missing or moved items.

I headed upstairs. My head had barely touched the softer-than-a-cloud pillows when sleep hit. I woke at sunset—not that it was evident, given the never-ending brightness that was flooding the room. Central’s people feared darkness so much that they didn’t even sleep in it. There’d been no light controls in any of the apartments I’d been in; the lights were simply on twenty-four/seven.

I dressed and headed downstairs. Cat and Bear happily filled me in on everything that had happened over the day. They’d explored the entire building—in between checking the street, they added somewhat hastily—and approved the place as a temporary residence.

“I’m afraid it’s not one you can stay in,” I said. “I need you both at the bunker tonight, just in case another attack comes. But return once the sun is up tomorrow.”

I gave them a hug and sent them on their way. Then I headed out to meet Charles. He gave me a smile when he saw me approaching, but there was little warmth in it, and the kiss he placed on my cheek was also rather functional.

“Is there a problem?” I asked, when he didn’t immediately do anything else.

He started, then scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Yes. I mean no.” He grimaced. “Sorry, it’s work. And I shouldn’t be letting it get in the way of my time with you.”

“If you’d prefer to simply go home, we can do this another—”

“No, no,” he cut in hastily. “The prospect of your company is the only thing that got me through the day.”

“Then perhaps we should retreat somewhere where you can relax rather than continuing on to the restaurant. My place is just down the street. Or we could go back to yours.” I hesitated and touched his arm. Despite the fact that it wasn’t skin-on-skin contact, one word nevertheless leapt into my mind—Daybreaker. Whatever it was, he sure as hell was worried about it if my seeking skills were picking it up on such a fleeting contact through cloth. “And I have been trained as a sexual masseuse.”

“Ah well, that is an invitation I cannot refuse.”

I smiled and tucked my arm into his. “I also have a very well-stocked autocook and a lovely selection of wines. And as a bonus, I have the place to myself for the next two weeks.”

“You share?” He sounded somewhat horrified at the thought.

“Yes.” I shrugged. “Until I decide what I want to do, it is for the best.”

He grunted and lapsed into silence again. I didn’t mind, because my seeking skills were picking up random bits of information. Whatever Daybreaker was, it was sucking up huge amounts of money—too much, in Charles’s opinion. There were also staff troubles, but the images I was receiving on that were rather random and fleeting. To know more, I’d have to wait until he was deep inside.

Once we reached the apartment, I pulled free and stepped toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink before we start?”

He caught my hand, tugged me back into his arms, then kissed me soundly.

“I would rather partake in the promised massage,” he said eventually. “Otherwise I fear I might be poor company tonight.”

I smiled and led him up the stairs. “I’m afraid the bedroom is rather small compared to yours.”

“I’ve slept in smaller,” he said, amusement evident in his tone as he glanced around. “I may be from a wealthy family, but I did my required stint in the corps when younger.”

Surprise rippled through me, though I checked it before it got anywhere near my expression. But it was a reminder of just how little I knew about life in Central—and how careful I would have to be both when I was with Charles and once I got into Winter Halo.

Once we were in the bedroom, I told him to remain still, then slowly began to strip off his clothes. I took my time, exploring his body by taste and touch. By the time his shirt fell to the floor, his chest was heaving and his body was quivering with desire. I kept going, kept teasing, my fingers playing around the waist of his pants but not undoing them. Not releasing him.

When I finally did, his groan was one of sheer relief. His cock jumped free, thick and hard and quivering with expectation. I ran my tongue over its tip and he groaned again, the sound almost desperate.

“God,” he said with a shudder. “If you treat all your clients this well, I can imagine you’d be in high demand.”

“I did start training in the therapeutic area, but the demand for sexual massage was so high I soon switched.”

He grinned. “I’m betting most of your clients pretended to have problems simply to enjoy sessions with you.”

“It would be cheaper and easier to go to one of the approved brothels than come to me.” I rose, brushed my lips across his, then stepped back and motioned to the bed. “Lie on your stomach. I’ll go get the oil.”

His gaze skated down my length. “I do so hope you intend to get naked somewhere along the line.” He paused and ran a finger across the top of my breasts. “Although I am rather liking the corset.”

“Then perhaps I shall leave it on.”

He nodded thoughtfully, though amusement teased the corners of his lips. “I would quite enjoy releasing your bounty later, I think.”

I didn’t comment, just motioned to the bed again. He took a deep, somewhat shaky breath, then climbed onto it. I retrieved the oil from the bathroom, then quickly slipped out of my skirt and sat astride him. His skin quivered where our flesh touched.

When the heat of my hands had warmed the oil enough, I undid the top and dribbled it onto his skin, starting at the base of the spine, then moving upward to his shoulders. Once the bottle was recapped and dumped onto the floor, I moved back to his butt and began to work the oil into his flesh, alternating long sweeping strokes with more circular ones. I kept my hands on his skin, increasing sensations for him as much as snagging information for me. The pieces were fleeting, somewhat insubstantial, but I could examine and connect them all later. I slowly worked my way up his spine, across his shoulders and down each arm, and then repeated the process back down his body. After dribbling more oil onto my hands, I continued on, over rump and down his sinewy legs, concentrating on his feet and toes for a while before moving back up his legs. When my thumbs slipped between his thighs and brushed his balls, he jumped slightly and groaned.

I smiled and did it again. This time his groan was more a growl. “God, this has to be the sweetest form of torture I have ever experienced.”

“And it’s a long way from over yet.” I slid to one side. “Roll over.”

He did. His cock glistened with precum, visible evidence of the desire that rode the air heavily. I sat astride him and repeated the process until his need was so thick and heavy it caressed my skin with its heat and filled every breath. It was more his than mine, but that was okay. I wasn’t here for pleasure. I was here for information.

I leaned forward and said, “How badly do you want me?”

“Very.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not really convinced. Perhaps I should continue—”

With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around my body and quickly flipped our positions. With very little finesse, he thrust inside me, driving deep and then holding still, his body quivering with the effort of restraint and his expression one of utter pleasure. Then he began to move, and as he did, I unleashed my seeker skills. I didn’t have time to sort through the images and try to understand the information—I’d worked him into such a state that he wouldn’t last too long this first time. But that had also been very deliberate. Not only were cat shifters more sensitive to this sort of intrusion, but they also tended to compartmentalize the various bits of their lives—meaning that when it came to sex, that was all they focused on. Everything else—their day, their plans, and often even their emotions—were locked away into neat little boxes that could only be accessed when need was all-consuming.

I became aware of the increasing tempo of his thrusts and carefully withdrew from his energy and aura. As I reimmersed in the sensations flooding my body, I wrapped my legs around him and raised my hips to meet his movements. It was his undoing. He came with a roar, his face twisted in sweet ecstasy as his body shuddered and shook. For several seconds after, he didn’t move; then he rolled to one side and gathered me close.

“That,” he said, kissing my forehead lightly, “was a most excellent massage. I did notice, however, that your enjoyment was not as great as mine.”

“We have the rest of the night for that.” I pushed away from him and sat up. “Right now I think some food and wine might be in order.”

“Followed by dessert,” he murmured, one finger lightly tugging at the corset’s drawstring, “which is, of course, the unwrapping of your glorious breasts.”

“Perhaps.” I bounced off the bed.

He followed me down the stairs, and for the rest of the night we shared food, alcohol, small talk, and sex. Each time I gained a little more information about Winter Halo, its financial and staff problems, but there was never much on the project that had him so worried. It was frustrating, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d obviously done my job too well; he was totally and utterly relaxed, and that project was now the last thing on his mind.

Maybe I needed to catch him in the middle of the day, when he had no choice but to go back to work . . .

As dawn began to stir the shadows from the skies—something I felt rather than actually saw in this place of eternal brightness—he reluctantly showered and got dressed.

“So,” he said, catching my hand and tugging me into his embrace. “When will I see you again?”

“What about lunch tomorrow?”

“What about dinner tonight?” His lips moved down my neck.

I smiled. “I’m seeing a friend tonight.”

“Competition?” he said, with a nip on my earlobe.

There was no concern in his voice, just the stirrings of determination. While many shifters were monogamous, the cats weren’t. Like the animal variety that had once roamed this world, female shifters had the final say on who could and couldn’t court them, and it was the males who had to strive for their attention and favor. In the camps, at least during the war, it wasn’t unusual for women to have had many children with different fathers, although those who were not nomadic did tend to stick to the same mate. It was a trait that had, at times, made my task difficult.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “So, are we on for lunch?”

“Indeed. My place or yours?”

I smiled. “Mine is closer.”

“I shall be here at one thirty, then.” He kissed me a final time and then headed out the door.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it. It had been a long night, and my body and muscles ached with fatigue. It had, I thought wryly, been a long, long time since I was this active. Unfortunately, the only way to improve sexual stamina was to keep doing it, and while Charles was a considerate enough lover, he wasn’t . . .

A wry smile touched my lips. The end of that sentence was pretty pointless, given I had no idea what Jonas was like in bed. He might be a selfish lover—I somehow doubted it, but sometimes you could never tell.

Once I’d shifted back to my normal self, I walked back up the stairs and took a long hot shower to wash the scent of sex and Charles from my skin, and to ease the ache in long-disused muscles. All the clothes in the wardrobe had been designed to fit my alter ego, so I increased my bust size just enough that the tunic didn’t fit like a tent all over, then grabbed a scarf to belt in the waist. I also lengthened my hair and changed the structure of my face. The building might not have either cameras or guards, but I couldn’t risk the wrong person spotting the real me coming and going. As I headed back downstairs, I called to Cat and Bear and then set about making breakfast.

I was on to my second cup of strong black coffee by the time they appeared. They zipped around me as usual, but this time their energy was filled with a mix of uncertainty and trepidation.

“What’s happened?” I said, immediately fearing the worst.

Images began to flow through my mind—men and women taking down the steels that had been supporting what remained of the old roof, others moving what equipment had survived the blast into the carryall ATVs that lined the road outside it. Weirdly, there were also other people moving equipment and random bits of furniture in.

I frowned. “Did anyone say why they were doing all this?”

Bear touched me lightly. No, but Jonas is there, supervising.

Then I needed to get over there to see what he was up to—even if I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

I grabbed a cloak to ward off the chill of the morning air, then headed outside. Bear led the way, but Cat kept closer, her energy playing through the long strands of my hair. Guilt flickered through me. She’d missed me.

Finding the children is what matters now, she said. We have plenty of time; they do not.

I smiled. She might have been only seven in human years when she died, but she’d always been far wiser than most adults. Even if at times she was as playful and silly as any child.

Her energy slapped me lightly even as her giggles spun around me. My smile became a grin as I headed through the gates and into the warmth of real sunlight. The rail platforms were filled with people, all of them patiently waiting for the next lot of pods to arrive. I wove my way through them, then headed across the road toward the museum. There were only two ATVs stationed outside the museum now. Both vehicles were still being loaded, and two of the museum’s security guards watched proceedings from either side of the door.

One of them stepped forward and held out a hand as I drew near. “I’m sorry, miss, but the museum has been closed down for the immediate future.”

Which might be good news depending on whether the temporary closure simply meant they hadn’t yet decided what to do with it, or if it was a first step toward demolishing it.

But if it was the latter, why were they taking stuff into it?

“Are you refurbishing it?” I motioned toward what looked like movement monitors two men were carrying inside.

The guard snorted. “No, we are not. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back—”

“It’s okay,” Jonas said as he came out the door. “She’s with me.”

Something close to amusement lurked around the guard’s lips as he rather grandly motioned me forward. “Might have volunteered for the job myself if I’d known there was going to be such lovely company.”

I frowned and glanced at Jonas for an explanation, but, as usual, his expression gave little away.

I followed him inside. The ghosts immediately swamped me, just about frying my mind with their uncertainty and concern. And no wonder—the huge room was all but cleaned out. Nothing remained, not even the hanging electrical cables. I glanced at the old tower and was relieved to see the tops of the solar panels glinting in the sunshine that streamed through the fissured section of the dome. At least I wasn’t reduced to relying solely on the generators—if, of course, they hadn’t also ripped out the old cabling that ran from the tower to the storage cells.

I calmed the ghosts down as best I could and watched the two men deposit the monitoring units next to an odd assortment of other furniture and equipment. Including, I saw with more than a little trepidation, a generator and vampire lights.

“What in Rhea is—”

“Not yet,” Jonas murmured, motioning me to remain where I was as he walked over to the two men.

One of them pressed a button on his wrist cell and produced a small light screen. Jonas raised his arm and ran his RFID chip across it.

“Right,” the stranger said, when the screen flashed green. “That’s all logged and accounted for. Good luck.”

They gave me a nod and left. Once the ATVs’ engines had started up, I said, my voice holding an edge I couldn’t quite control, “It very much looks to me like you’re moving in.”

“That,” Jonas said heavily, “is because I am.”