Chapter 8

If the richness and depth of that scent was anything to go by, there weren’t just a few vampires here, but a whole lot—maybe even a nest full. Most weren’t close, but one, at least, must have caught the smell of my blood and had come to investigate. He was off to my left, in the deeper shadows near the filth-covered walls.

So why wasn’t he attacking? If he’d been close enough to smell my blood, then he was close enough to have caught the beat of my heart and sense my humanity. Restraint was not something I’d ever associated with vampires before, and it filled me with foreboding.

But it also gave me a fighting chance of survival. Not that I intended to fight. If there were as many vampires here as the scent stinging the air suggested, then that would be nothing short of stupidity. I drew the darkness deep into my lungs and let it filter through every fiber, until it felt as if my whole body was vibrating with the weight and power of it. The vampire within me rose swiftly to the surface, embracing that darkness, becoming one with it, until it stained my whole being and took over. It ripped away flesh, muscle, and bone, until I was nothing more than a cluster of matter. Even my weapons and clothes became part of the night and the darkness. In this form, at least, I’d be harder to pin down and nigh on impossible to feed on—or so my makers had said. It was a theory I’d never actually tested.

And, as I’d said to Jonas, there were vampires who fed on energy. I just had to hope there were none of those in this place.

I pushed away from the hard, grimy floor and moved forward. Though I had good night sight in my normal form, as matter the night was as bright as day, though it was a day without color. Everything was black and white, and inverse to what it normally would have been.

The room the false rift had spat me into was long and thin, reminding me somewhat of a corridor. I had no idea what lay beyond the rift itself, because it gleamed with a fire that was almost blinding. At the opposite end of the room lay the bent and broken remains of a metal door. Between it and me waited the vampire. In the inverse light, he was little more than a cluster of softly gleaming particles. He didn’t move, didn’t react, though I had no doubt he was as aware of my presence as I was of his.

It was a weird situation—and one that could change for the worse at any moment. For whatever reason, this vampire was restraining his instinctive urge to attack, and I had to make use of it.

I moved forward purposely, as if I had every right to be here. Anything else could be my downfall.

The vampire stirred. Mistress? His voice was scratchy, guttural, and something I sensed through my particles rather than actually heard—telepathy rather than spoken words. But the mere fact I was hearing him at all had shock rebounding through me. Never once had my makers—or anyone else, for that matter—ever suggested that vamps were capable of any kind of legible, intelligent speech. You wish accompaniment?

Why would he call me “mistress”? Who was he mistaking me for? Surely not another vampire? He’d been in this room when I’d shifted from flesh to shadow, and would be aware that I wasn’t a true vampire.

Then I remembered the dark force I’d sensed when I’d rescued Penny, and the feeling that the actions of the vampires were being controlled. This “mistress,” whoever she was, might be the force I’d sensed.

But the Carleen ghosts had said wraiths used these rifts, not vampires, and that suggested that the two might be working together. It was a possibility that had chills racing through me. If it was true, Central was in deeper trouble than we’d initially thought. Although, how in hell had the wraiths learned common tongue—a language that these days was used in all but a few provincial outposts? I had no doubt wraiths were intelligent, but why would they bother learning our language when we were nothing but prey to them?

And how were they even speaking when they had no mouths to form words?

But then, everyone had believed vampires incapable of speech, too, and that was very obviously wrong.

Maybe that was what they’d wanted the children for. Maybe they were somehow siphoning language skills from them. But if that was the case, why choose children? Why not adults?

The vampire’s matter stirred, and I realized he was waiting for an answer. No. I kept my mental tones low and scratchy, and kept mental fingers crossed it was a close enough imitation of whomever he was mistaking me for. I wish aloneness.

So be it. He melted away into the whiteness.

I didn’t relax. One vampire might have let me be, but there were many others out there in the inverse night, and who knew what they might do?

I contemplated the broken door for a moment, then moved toward it. It was aeons old, thick with rust and slime. It also looked military grade—the same grade and design that was everywhere in my bunker.

Only trouble was, there were no other bunkers near Central, so where the hell was I? And why had the wraiths brought the children through here? Surely they hadn’t been kept here—with the vampires present that would have been a little too like tying down a lamb and expecting the wolves not to attack.

I flowed over the broken door and moved into the whiteness beyond. The room again resembled a corridor, but this time there were various doors leading off it. Some were closed, some not. Most were empty, but from several came the thick sensation of vampire. There was no sense of awareness coming from their direction, which, I guess, was another point in my favor. While it was darker than night down here, it was still day above. Vampires generally slept when the sun was up. Given I could feel nothing other than vampires close by, I quickly moved on, anxious not to incite the interest of the vamps that slept here.

The corridor ended in a T intersection. There was a sign on the wall, but the writing had long given way to grime and was all but indecipherable. Only the tip of an arrow pointing to the left stood out. I followed its lead and headed that way, if only because the bulk of vampire scent seemed to be coming from the right. The corridor widened and the walls on either side gave way to thick windows. The wide rooms beyond them were filled with the broken remnants of uterine pods, tiny medibeds, and various other machines. My stomach—or what there was of it in this form—began to knot. This was looking more and more like the laboratories in my bunker. The laboratories in which they’d taken samples, testing and retesting the DNA of their latest batch of freshly birthed creations to ensure the health and viability of each before all were sent on to postnatal care.

This had to have been a déchet bunker—but which one? I knew of only three: Central had been the smallest, with the biggest near the port town of Crow’s Point, and another deep in the Broken Mountains. I couldn’t imagine vampires haunting that place, as there wasn’t much in the way of hunting up there—not when it came to easy pickings, anyway. There were shifter communities living there now, but they tended to be nomadic in nature, and therefore had little need of the sewerage and service tunnels that had made life so much easier for the vampires in many human communities, even in this day and age. There might be plenty of cities as protected as Central, but not everyone lived in such places, and many of these smaller communities were as ill prepared as Chaos when it came to the vampires.

I continued on. Up ahead, the darkness began to grow, which in this inverse lighting meant actual light rather than darkness. Which was confusing, as any sort of light was dangerous to vampires.

And if the wraiths were working with the vampires, at least in some capacity, why would they have any part of this place lit up so brightly? They hated it as much as the vampires.

As I drew closer to the light, the darkness within me began to unravel. Muscle and bone found structure and re-formed, until I was once again fully fleshed. The scanner to the right of the heavy metal door beeped as I approached, then slid open. What it revealed was a fully functioning laboratory.

I stood outside the door for a moment, scanning the wide room, letting the feel of it wash over me. There were no ghosts in this place, no scents other than antiseptic. Metal examination tables gleamed, and the medibeds that lined the far wall—six in all—made mine look like something out of the Stone Age.

I took a step, then froze as red light flared from either side of the doorway and scanned me. A heartbeat later an alarm went off, the sound sharp and strident in the silence.

I spun and raced back into the darkness, gathering it around me as quickly as I could. Ahead, in the corridor beyond the T intersection, vampires began to stir. I couldn’t risk staying here. Couldn’t risk having them realize I was not one of them. There had to be at least two score of them here, if that stirring sense of evil was anything to go by. I’d barely survived an attack by one score—and even then only with the help of my little ghosts. Two score was death, pure and simple.

I came to the T intersection and surged to the right. The vampires in the long corridor had come to life; their energy milled, and their confusion and uncertainty stained the air. I controlled my own fear and slowed my headlong pace. To get through, to survive, I had to make them believe I belonged here—that I was whoever that first vampire thought I was.

Mistress? A different tone, harsher and scratchier than the first. Problem?

Alarm fault, I growled back. I go get others.

The energy of them parted slightly, leaving me a slender pathway to the room with the false rift. I took a deep mental breath and moved through them, feeling their wrongness slither through every part of my being.

If I could feel them, they could undoubtedly feel me.

Tension ran through my particles, and all I wanted to do was run—the one thing I couldn’t do when in the midst of them.

I was midway through when the energy around me began to change. Their confusion deepened, hardened. Became dangerous. I didn’t alter my pace; any move, any suggestion of fear, would have them all over me. Yet fear stepped into my heart nevertheless, and its stain ran through my matter.

Wrong, a voice at the back growled. Not mistress.

Rhea save me, I thought, and bolted, with every ounce of speed I could muster, for the false rift. I tore through the energy of several vampires, felt their matter slash at me—through me—a sensation not unlike sharp claws tearing at flesh. Particles ripped and spun away, and I realized the true depth of the situation I was in. They didn’t have to force me into flesh. They could render me dead by simply tearing me apart, piece by energy piece.

I bolted over the broken door and streamed toward the false tear. There was no reaction as I drew close. The sphere showed no awareness of my presence and no jagged bolts of energy leapt out from the brightly lit surface to snag me.

Flesh, I realized suddenly. It was set to react to flesh, not matter.

I swore and began unraveling the shadows. Halfway down the room I hit the floor running, even as the darkness continued to bleed from my torso. The vampires screamed and claws lashed at me, biting deep, drawing blood. One arm re-formed; I was still gripping my weapon, so I fired it. The wooden stakes tore through shadows to the left and the right and bounced harmlessly off the walls. Hair re-formed; hands snagged at it and yanked me backward. I fired over my shoulder, heard the squawk as the wood tore into flesh and the taint of blood stained the air. The scent seemed to incite greater fury in the vampires, but they didn’t tear their fallen comrade apart. Didn’t eat his flesh and drink his blood. They simply ran over the top of him and continued to tear at me, their desperation and fury so fierce I could barely even breathe.

The surface of the false tear began to rotate. The lightning stirred, flickered, as I drew closer. One jagged bolt speared out, wrapping around my ankles, capturing me. I stumbled, swore, then caught my balance, trying to move faster than that burning, biting lash seemed to desire. More claws tore at me as another jagged piece of energy snared my other leg. The vampires were close—far too close.

With no other choice, I stopped running, twisted around, and raised both weapons, firing nonstop as I was drawn purposefully—but far too slowly—toward the rift. There were at least twenty vampires fighting to get at me, and more pouring through over the broken door as I watched.

I needed space. I needed time. Needed to get into the false rift and hope like hell I had the strength to survive its agony. Because no matter what, I wasn’t about to stay here.

Some vampires fell under the barrage of stakes, but others spun into darkness, re-forming once the bullets had torn past. Their screams filled the air, their fury and desperation to stop me evident in the bloody glow of their eyes.

Dark energy lashed my back. Whips snaked out and snared my upper arms, its touch biting deep. Blood stained my shirt, and the scent fueled the vamps into a greater frenzy. One gun clicked over to empty. I tried to snag it back onto my belt and reach for a knife, but the sphere’s energy had pinned my upper arm to my body and severely restricted my movement. I swore and kept firing the second.

The vampires lunged at me from all sides. I screamed and thrust backward—straight into the fierce energy of the false rift. It sucked me in, then ripped me apart, and I hung in the darkness for I don’t know how long, silently screaming, unable to do anything else. Then, with agonizing slowness, my particles were reassembled and, with little finesse and a whole lot of force, I was ejected.

I didn’t even stumble. I just fell flat on my face and, for who knows how long, I stayed there.

After a while, I somehow found enough energy to roll onto my back. All I could smell was my blood, and it felt as if every bit of me had been beaten and bruised. Even my soul ached.

I took a deep, shuddering breath that did little more than fling a dozen fresh arrows of pain across my torso. I ignored them, closed my eyes, and reached for the healing. It took a while, but eventually, calm descended and my body began to repair itself. Unfortunately, the healing state didn’t last anywhere near long enough. While I could heal just about any wound short of limb, head, or heart removal, the depth of the repairs depended on my strength. I’d pushed myself hard today, and all with little more than bitter coffee in my belly. It wasn’t enough.

But at least blood no longer poured from the multitude of slashes caused by both the vampires and the false rift. It was better than nothing, I supposed.

I rolled onto my hands and knees, then slowly pushed upright and stared at the wall of darkness that stood between me and getting home. The thought of going through it again churned my stomach, but there was no other option. Not if I wanted to get out of this place—and I did. Desperately.

I forced my feet forward. The darkness soon enveloped me, its thick strands resisting every step forward but not as fiercely as it had on the way down. Nor did it tear at my flesh as it snapped away—which was good, because I doubted I had a whole lot of unmarred skin left.

I came out of it so suddenly I stumbled and fell on my hands and knees. Energy whipped around me, filled with concern, and it took me a moment to realize it was Bear and Cat. Then the little bit of strength I had left fled, and I fell into unconsciousness.

•   •   •

I woke to shadows and noise. There was warmth around me and comfort underneath me rather than the chill of the weather and the cold bite of ground. The air smelled murky and was thick with so many scents it was hard to pick one from the other. Obviously, I was no longer in Carleen.

I frowned and opened my eyes. The room in which I lay was small and neat, with little more than the bed, a side cabinet, a somewhat grimy mirror, and a washbasin beside which rested two small but clean-smelling blue towels.

Cat and Bear whisked in from wherever they’d been, the force of their excitement making me smile even as their energy seeped into my skin, allowing me to share their adventures and explorations. Images flowed through me, around me, in dizzying succession, filling me in on all that had happened even if in a somewhat confused manner. We were not only back in Chaos, but also at Nuri’s. Jonas, from what I could gather, had carried me here—over his shoulder, like a bloodied sack of potatoes. He was in the room next to mine, stripping off clothes stiff with my blood—which suggested we had not been here very long at all.

And Jonas? I asked them. What did he do while I was away?

More images flooded my mind. Jonas had retreated as far as the park, but once the rift had passed, had come back to the rim of the crater to wait. Nuri had joined him a few hours later, and while she’d prowled around the edges of the crater, she hadn’t entered it. The Carleen ghosts, Cat noted, had been wary of her.

I frowned again. Why are ghosts afraid of her?

Their uncertainty filled me, then Bear’s energy touched mine more deeply and he said, It is the darkness, as much as her power, that they fear.

I guess I could understand their fearing her power, because witches traditionally had control over the dead and she could, if she so chose, banish or destroy them.

Before I could question them further, the door opened and Nuri ducked into the room. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said, not sounding the least bit surprised. She held a large jug in one hand and clothes in the other. The room was almost too small for someone her size, though it wasn’t so much her weight but rather the sheer amount of power radiating from her. It overwhelmed this tiny space. Was it any wonder the Carleen ghosts feared her? They surely wouldn’t have come across many like her, even when they’d been alive.

“I’m afraid your clothes were a little beyond repair,” Nuri continued, “so you’ll have to make do with this tunic. Your weapons are in the shoulder bag at the base of the bed. Once you’re washed and dressed, come downstairs and join us. We’ve fresh bread and stew ready, if you’re up to eating.”

“How long have I been here?” I said as she poured the hot water into the small basin.

She glanced at me, brown eyes shrewd. “Worried about that date you have this evening, are you?”

Jonas obviously didn’t feel the need to be restrained in any of the information he passed on. I raised an eyebrow. “And what business of yours is it if I was?”

She smiled, though there was very little humor in it. “No business of mine at all, though I cannot help but be curious as to what is so important about that date you would rush off so soon after near death.”

Near death? I’d been depleted and bloody, for sure, but I doubted I’d been anywhere near death—though, given what Cat and Bear had showed me, I’d certainly looked it.

“Perhaps I merely desire the company of the man I’m intending to meet.” I paused. “How long was I out?”

“Not long enough by half.” She finished pouring the water, then turned to face me. All sorts of speculation was evident in her sharp gaze. “Come downstairs and tell us what you found. You owe us that much, at least.”

I owed them nothing, and we both knew it—especially after their initial attack on me. But this mystery was already far bigger than I could handle. I needed help, and Nuri and her shifters were the logical choice—even if a dangerous one, given their undenied government links.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. I listened to her retreating steps, then flicked the blanket off and rose. Muscles twinged, but there was little in the way of true pain. Most of the lash marks had disappeared, but there was a cut on the inside of my left wrist that was raised and angry-looking. It was, I suspected, where the vampire had slashed through my particles, spinning some of them away. And maybe that meant it wouldn’t—couldn’t—heal any more than it already had. Dried blood stained most of my body, as well as matting my hair, if the itchy state of my scalp was anything to go by.

Grimacing, I grabbed one of the towels and the flowery-smelling soap, and cleaned myself up. Then I dunked my head into the bowl, scrubbing my short hair, freeing as much of the gunk as I could, even as I wished I was back at the bunker and in one of the hydro pods.

The tunic Nuri had left for me was full-length, and made of a soft gray wool. It was V-necked and split to the thigh along one side to allow easier movement. I’d worn this type of garment many times in the various camps I’d been assigned to during the war, and knew from experience they were not only extremely comfortable, but also sexy, as the flowing nature of them accentuated rather than hid curves. It was the sort of garment I could easily wear to meet Sal tonight, and couldn’t help wondering if I’d been given it for that very reason. There was a pair of leather sandals with the dress, and they also fit perfectly.

I glanced at a mirror and frowned at my reflection. As much as I rather liked the startling contrast of white and black stripes in my hair, I’d seen no tiger shifters in Central for a while, which meant I’d stand out a little too much in that place. And given I needed to be orange if I were to have any hope of getting the job at Winter Halo, maybe it would be better if I started wearing that form to get comfortable with it. I pictured what I wanted in my mind, then reached for the shifter magic. It swept through me, fierce and fast, and in very little time the stripes were replaced by orange and my naturally lean form was a little more curvaceous.

Which meant it was time to go downstairs and face Nuri and her crew. I slung the hessian bag holding my weapons over my shoulder, took a deep, steadying breath, then said, “Let’s go get this over with.”

Bear whipped around me, excited we were on the move again, and headed out. Cat, as usual, stayed close, though there was little in the way of concern in her energy.

Jonas waited in the corridor beyond our door. His muscular arms were crossed and he leaned one shoulder against the opposite wall, his stance casual yet oddly guarded. His dark hair was damp, and he smelled fresh, clean, and wild. His gaze swept down my length, a leisurely caress that sent delight skittering across my skin. Desire stirred, its scent stinging the air, his and mine combined. But when his gaze finally rose, there was little of that heat evident in either his expression or his eyes. This man might want me, but he still didn’t trust me, and that, right now, held greater sway over his actions. His restraint should have pleased me—he was a ranger, after all. The war had been a long time ago, but it seemed that—for him—it might well have been only yesterday. I had no doubt sex with Jonas would be good, but it would also, given that hate, be dangerous. It would take only one tiny slip on my part, and that would be the end of me. And yet I also knew that none of it would have made any difference had he shown an inclination to act on desire.

But then, I’d been bred to seduce shapeshifters such as he—shifters who were not just warriors, but leaders. Jonas might not be in control of this little lot, but I had a suspicion he could have been. That once upon a time, he had been. Maybe not of this group, but another. There was just something in the way he moved, something in the way he reacted, that reminded me of the shifters who’d been my targets so long ago.

“This way,” he said, and pushed away from the wall.

I followed his easy strides along the short corridor, then down a set of stairs. The room we entered was the small one I’d seen when linked to Bear the first time I’d been in this place—the one with the small electric stove and half a dozen motley-looking chairs. Only one of those was currently occupied—unfortunately by Branna, the thickset, golden-haired man who’d darted me with Iruakandji. I flared my nostrils as I neared him, drawing his scent. It was sharper—dryer—than Jonas’s, reminding me more of grass and sand rather than the wildness of storms.

His golden gaze swept me, enticing little in the way of reaction, then lifted, lingering longest on my hair. He didn’t say anything; he simply rose and walked to the other side of the room, as far away from me as was possible without actually leaving. Where he could watch, and react if needed, I very much suspected.

Bear, you want to keep an eye on him? He’d already acted once without thinking—I had no doubt he’d do it again if I so much as twitched the wrong way. It was a somewhat common occurrence among male lion shifters, who tended to be fiercely protective of friends and family. Bear whisked off to stalk the grim-faced Branna, but Cat stayed close.

“Stew?” Nuri asked, holding a metal spoon over the divine-smelling pot of meat and vegetables.

“Definitely,” Jonas said. He grabbed the bowl she offered him and headed for the small table tucked behind the stove.

“Tiger?” Nuri glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. I had no doubt she’d noted the change of color, but she made no mention of it. But then, Jonas had no doubt informed her I was a body shifter, so it wouldn’t have come as a surprise.

“Yes, thanks.” I tried not to sound like I hadn’t eaten fresh meat for the best part of a year. Stealing fruit and veg was one thing, but meat was expensive and not so easily snatched. And wildlife was rare in the park these days, thanks to the vampires. Jerky—my main meat source—was definitely a poor substitute.

She handed me a large bowl, and I followed Jonas to the table. It had been set for four, and there was a large loaf of bread sitting in the center.

I slung my bag over the back of the chair opposite Jonas and sat down. Nuri sat to my right. Branna stayed right where he was. Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Or maybe Nuri thought putting him in close quarters to me wasn’t such a good idea, and had ordered him on watch.

“So,” I said, figuring I might as well get the conversation happening, “what did you make of the magic that lies within that crater?”

Nuri picked up her spoon and ate some stew, considering me as she munched. “It is unlike any magic I have come across before.”

I scooped up some of the stew, and briefly closed my eyes in utter enjoyment.

Amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Good, huh?”

“The best stew I’ve tasted in years.” Hell, it was the best stew I’d tasted since the war, but I couldn’t exactly say that. “So the magic is wraith in origin?”

Nuri slid the bread across to me. “No, it’s not, though there are parts of it that definitely have their feel.”

I tore off a chunk of bread, then pushed the loaf over to Jonas. “Meaning what? That the wraiths have learned our magic?”

“No, rather the other way around. Someone here has learned theirs.”

I frowned. “How is that even possible? The wraiths don’t speak our language, nor do they hang about long enough to learn it. They just appear, kill, and leave.”

“That is the truth as far as anyone is aware,” Nuri said. “But that doesn’t mean things haven’t changed.”

“Something certainly has,” Jonas commented. “The mere fact the wraiths are getting into Central to steal children is evidence enough of that.”

“They could be coming through that rift I found in Deseo’s basement. It may not be a direct line from their world into ours, but there are plenty of rifts in Carleen. At least some of them would have to be active entry points for the wraiths.”

“Even if they were using the rift in the brothel,” Jonas said, between mouthfuls of stew, “it still doesn’t explain how they’re getting from that basement and into the children’s homes without being either seen or crisped by the UVs.”

“Unless, of course, they have help from someone in Central,” Nuri commented. “And I’m afraid I believe that to be the case.”

I munched on some bread. It was still warm, and as delicious as the stew. “But how would the wraiths even make a deal with someone from Central? As I’ve already said, they don’t speak our language, and it’s not like they can advertise.”

Nuri half smiled. “True. And I don’t think that’s what’s happening here, anyway. The magic is more a bastardization from both worlds, and there is something very volatile about its feel. It’s almost as if the two were fused together by force rather than desire.”

“Meaning what?” Jonas asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I need more time to study that barrier.”

“And the false rift in Deseo?” I said. “What’s happening with that?”

“Ela—the other shifter your little ghost saw in the bar—has just acquired a job there. She’ll keep an eye on who goes into—or comes out of—that basement.”

“She can hardly be there twenty-four/seven. And Jonas said electronic surveillance is impractical.”

“Which it is,” Nuri agreed. “And that is why Ela is not the only one going in.”

I raised my eyebrows. “How many people do you have working for you?”

“With me, not for me.” Amusement touched her lips. “The core group is four, but we have half a dozen shifters we trust who we can call on in times of need.”

“Are those shifters the same ones you were having the disagreement with when I first arrived with Penny?” I paused. “How is she, by the way?”

“No. And Penny . . . she’s okay.” Nuri hesitated. “We’re currently keeping her isolated, as I can’t break past the darkness that clouds her thoughts, and I do not trust it.”

“There was something about her manner that disturbed me.” My gaze swept from Nuri to Jonas and back again. “But I figured it was the same shadow that I sometimes sense in both of you.”

“Did you, now?” Nuri shared a brief glance with Jonas. “But you’re wrong. Whatever you sense in our auras, it is not the source of Penny’s current problems.”

Which didn’t tell me a whole lot. “Then what do you think is?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure, but it has the same basic feel as that barrier in the crater.”

“Meaning Penny is linked to the barrier somehow?” Even as I asked the question, a very bad feeling began to grow deep inside me. That barrier had ultimately led to a rift that had taken me to a laboratory guarded by vampires—and if the darkness of that barrier had infused Penny’s aura, what were the chances that whatever was happening to her also somehow linked her to the vampires?

“Either that, or she’s linked to whomever created that barrier.” Nuri paused, and her power surged briefly, burning across my skin, tasting, testing. “What is it?”

I swallowed my mouthful of stew and met her gaze. “Is it possible the darkness within that barrier also has the taint of vampire?”

She frowned. “Vampires are not capable of magic.”

“No, but they do share a collective consciousness.”

“Yes, but I don’t see how that connects to the barrier and Penny.”

“The false rift I went through today took me into some sort of old military bunker,” I said, “within which was a new and fully functional lab. It was protected by lights, but the vampires were protecting the lab itself.”

“Which explains the mess you were in when you appeared back in Carleen,” Jonas murmured. “It’s a wonder you managed to get out if you appeared in the middle of a nest.”

“It wasn’t a nest.” I met his somewhat skeptical gaze evenly. “And they were initially asleep.”

“I’m still not seeing why you think Penny and the vampires might be linked,” Nuri said, with another of those warning looks to Jonas.

I hesitated. “Last night, when the vampires attacked my bunker, they also raised the grate that protects it. Aside from the fact they didn’t need to, no one but myself and my ghosts know the code for that gate. No one but Penny, who saw me key it in.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Jonas commented. “For a start, the technology is so old it would probably take someone with an electronic lock pick all of three seconds to crack.”

“Did you see a pick on the vampires? I didn’t.” Not that a pick would have been easy to see given the situation, but that was beside the point. “And, as I said, why would they want the grate open when they could shadow and flow through it?”

“They wouldn’t,” Nuri said. “Unless, of course, they were checking the code for someone else.”

I nodded. “Hence my asking whether that darkness contained any hint of vampire. It might be possible that we face not only a coalition of wraiths and someone in Central, but vampires as well.”

“Not a possibility I wish to contemplate,” Nuri murmured.

“We may not want to, but we can’t ignore the possibility, either.”

Nuri leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “Any idea where this vamp-infested lab might be?”

“No.” I tore off some more bread and scraped the remains of the stew out of my bowl. “But, as I said, it was an old military bunker, and there were several disused labs that reminded me an awful lot of the labs within my bunker—though I was under the impression the humans of Old Central had only the one déchet base near here.”

“They did. The others were in Crow’s Point and in the Broken Mountains.” She pursed her lips. “There were several satellite military installations, of course. It’s possible we’re dealing with one of those.”

“There were old uterine pods and neonatal medibeds in the disused labs,” I said. “Not something the regular military would need, I’d imagine.”

“No.” Her gaze met mine. “Are you sure it wasn’t some part of your own bunker, a section you haven’t uncovered yet?”

“I’m sure.” My reply was a little sharper than necessary. “Aside from the fact there didn’t appear to be any ghosts in this installation, my bunker isn’t infested with vampires.”

“That you know of,” Jonas said. “It’s possible the inaccessible areas could be.”

“No, they’re not, because the ghosts don’t have my restrictions, and they’d tell me if the vampires were there.”

He raised an eyebrow. Though there was little in the way of expression on his face, in the bright depths of his eyes curiosity, distrust, and desire all burned. It was a mix that was oddly compelling. “Yet you yourself said not all the ghosts talk to you.”

“The adults don’t.” He was still baiting me, still trying to trip me up, even if the question was a logical one. “But the children have been there for over one hundred years, and they know that place inside out. They’d tell me if vampires had suddenly become a feature.”

“Which means it must be one of the other déchet facilities.” Nuri tapped the table lightly, the sound echoing. “Although it seems odd that if the people behind this are based in Central, they would have their lab facilities so far away.”

“But it’s not that far away. Not when they’re using the false rifts to transport there and back.”

“Yes, but the rifts are hardly practical if they cause so much damage to the user.” Jonas crossed his legs under the table, but his calf brushed mine in the process and sent warmth spiraling through the rest of me.

This attraction, I thought, as I edged my legs away from his, was getting ridiculous.

“Just because the false rifts harm me doesn’t mean they similarly affect those who created them. If they have the skill to make them, then they also have the skill to program their DNA into them. I doubt they would suffer the same sort of difficulties I did when using it.”

“Penny suffered much the same type of wounds,” he said.

“Yes, but why would they bother programming the DNA of the children into it? The number of them alone would make it too hard.”

“It would also take too much time and energy, for little gain,” Nuri agreed, voice heavy. “From what I could glean from Penny, they’re using these children as test subjects and don’t exactly care whether they live or die.”

“And yet,” I said, “they’re not truly mistreated. Penny is undernourished, but she isn’t ill.”

“That might only be due to the authorities finally seeing the pattern in the disappearances. Best to take care of the test subjects you have if getting new ones is increasingly more difficult.” Her sharp gaze came to mine, and again her power swept me, intense and oddly filled with expectation. “The question is, what’s your next step?”

I leaned back in my chair and contemplated, once again, the wisdom of trusting these people. Cat stirred and her emotions washed through me, urging me to trust, to help. To find the children and make them safe. And it was that, more than anything, that remained the controlling factor here. If not for the fact there were children involved—children who might yet be saved—I definitely would have walked.

I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, then said, “That depends.”

“On what?” Nuri asked evenly.

“On how fast you can get me working ID for Central. The friend I’m meeting tonight said he might be able to arrange an interview with the recruitment officer at Winter Halo.” My gaze flicked to Jonas as I said it, though I’m not entirely sure why. It wasn’t like he was going to show any reaction given we were strangers and he refused to even acknowledge the attraction between us. “He’ll tell me tonight if he was successful or not.”

“ID is not a problem. In fact, we could do it now. Branna, get the scanner.” As Branna made a noise not unlike a growl before he walked away, Nuri added, “Who is this friend of yours?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

She half shrugged. “I’m curious, because the timing seems . . . fortunate.”

“Fortunate how?”

“When you first came here”—she gestured at the room with one hand—“you reminded me somewhat of a feral cat—fierce, skittish, and distrustful of both Chaos and us. You had the air of someone who kept very much to herself, and who socialized little. With the living, anyway.”

As summations went, she’d pretty much nailed it. But then, she was a seeker, and no matter how much I’d tried to control my emotional output, she would nevertheless have caught the odd unguarded moment. Especially given she was also a witch of some power.

“And now?”

“The distrust remains, but there is more life in you. More . . . awareness and warmth, in a sense. It is as if a long-ignored part of you has come to life.”

Another good summation. Part of me had come to life, and the more time I spent with Sal, the harder it was going to become to get that part of me under control once this all ended.

The thought made me frown. Sal lived in Central—had for some time—so why did it have to end? I really didn’t know. Intuition might be part and parcel of being a seeker, but weaving together emotions and images and coming up with judgments was something so ingrained it became a subconscious activity rather than a conscious one. And sometimes, those judgments remained at a subconscious level.

So what had I picked up on Sal that made me think my association with him would not be long-term? Was it the change I sensed in him or merely caution?

I didn’t know, and that was worrying.

“I don’t see how all that relates back to my meeting.”

“I’m not sure myself,” she admitted. “It’s just a feeling. You, us, the missing children, the sudden appearance of an old friend in your life. I think they’re all linked, even if I can’t yet see or find the connecting threads.”

“I never said his appearance was sudden.”

She smiled. “There are some things in this world you don’t have to say. So, what is his full name? I think we should have him checked out, if for no other reason than to ensure he is the man you remember.”

I hesitated, but as much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was right. Meeting Sal might be nothing more than a coincidence, but when combined with that odd itch that Sal and I were not destined to be long-term, then yes, I needed to be careful.

“It’s Sal Casimir. He runs the Hedone brothel on First.”

Jonas’s eyebrows rose. “You do have some high-flying friends. Especially for someone who generally lives like a hermit.”

“Preferring the company of my ghosts is more a matter of caution rather than reclusion. And with welcomes like the one you gave me, can you blame me?” Though I tried to keep my voice mild, a touch of anger crept through regardless. Maybe Jonas’s attitude was catching. “And it certainly doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the occasional dalliance. Sal’s appearance was certainly fortunate in more ways than one.”

Amusement fleetingly touched his lips, and it transformed his weatherworn but ruggedly handsome features, lending him a warmth and vibrancy that was almost breathtaking. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared, but the memory of it lingered deep inside.

Branna returned, thumped some sort of scanner onto the table, then stomped off.

“Pleasant sort of chap, isn’t he?” I murmured, not sure whether to be amused or concerned about his continuing suspicion. It was deeper—angrier—than the disbelief I sensed in Jonas, and far more dangerous. And yet he seemed very much leashed. Nuri might have said she worked with these men, but when it came to Branna, she was at the controlling end of his chain.

“It is not in his nature to trust. It never has been.” Jonas reached for the scanner and pressed a small button. The scanner came to life, blue light gleaming softly from the device’s small screen. “It was a year before he began to speak to me with any degree of civility.”

“A year? I’m surprised you put up with that sort of attitude for more than even a few days.”

He smiled, but it was filled more with sadness and memories than warmth or humor. “That’s not something any of us really had any control over.”

I frowned. “Meaning you were forced into each other’s company? How?”

“That,” Nuri said heavily, “is a story for another day. “We’ve already set up an ID for you. All we have to do is scan in your image and physical attributes, and it will be good to go.”

I frowned. “What name did you give me?”

Amusement teased her lips. “Ti Zindela.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmured. Especially given “zindela” meant “man’s defender.”

“I thought it was appropriate,” she said, voice mild.

Leaving me wondering yet again just how much her seeker skills had picked up on me. Obviously not too much, otherwise I doubted they’d be sitting near me so calmly.

Jonas rose, the scanner in one hand. “Let’s get this done, then you can head off for your meeting with the lover. You want to stand over near the wall?”

I rose and walked over there. Jonas followed me, a presence that washed heat across my spine despite the fact he wasn’t close.

“What address did you give me?” I asked as I turned around. “Here?”

Nuri shook her head. “You’re not likely to get a job anywhere in Central if you list Chaos as your address. They tend to ignore us at the best of times.”

I frowned. “Then what did you put?”

“Smile,” Jonas said. “Unless, of course, you want a frown to be your ID comparison picture.”

I flashed a brief smile. “Better,” Jonas said, and hit a button. Blue light scanned me, running my length several times before beeping.

I glanced at Nuri, eyebrow raised.

“There’s an inn called Old Stan’s on Twelfth run by friends of mine. We’ve used them for cover purposes before. They’ll run interference on any queries you might get, or pass them on to us.”

“Okay,” Jonas said. “It’s done. Give me your right wrist.”

I held it out. He wrapped his fingers around my hand, his grip warm and strong as he pressed the unit against the underside of my wrist. The machine emitted another beep, then there was a short, sharp sting as the RFID chip was inserted under my skin.

“You’re now officially one of them,” Jonas said, his grip lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary.

“Great,” I muttered, glancing down at my wrist. The skin was slightly red where the chip had been inserted, but other than that, there was little sign of its presence.

“You’ll need to learn these points off by heart.” Nuri slid a piece of paper across the table toward me. “It’s your birth date, where you were born, et cetera. They will ask you, even if they can get the info from the RFID.”

Jonas stood to one side. I brushed past him, my skin tingling at the brief but luscious contact, and picked up the piece of paper. “Newport?” I glanced at Nuri, eyebrow raised. “It’s a back-of-nowhere town—why choose that as my birthplace?”

“Because fifteen years ago a virus voided the town’s RFID system, rendering all birth and death records up to that point irretrievable.”

“How fortunate.” My voice was dry.

“It was, rather. And no, we didn’t do it. We do, however, make use of it. Central won’t check your records because they can’t.”

“Surely they’d have to be aware that such destruction would be open to abuse by . . .” I hesitated, searching for the right word, not wanting to give offense.

“Less-than-savory types?” Nuri prompted, with a smile. “And yes, they are. Which is why we’ve also given you a work history that can be checked.”

I frowned. “Your organization is sounding bigger and bigger.”

“We’re mercenaries,” Jonas commented, moving back around to his side of the table. “And there’s a large network of us who work on a quid pro quo basis. We back their histories, they back ours, as necessary.”

“And,” Nuri added, “the relevant people have already been informed of your new ID.”

Huh. These people didn’t muck around any. I folded the piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket. “There’s one other thing I need.”

“That being?” Nuri asked.

“I want to talk to some of the women who worked the night security but quit.”

“We already have,” Jonas said. “They couldn’t tell us much.”

“Maybe they couldn’t tell you anything,” I said, “but maybe they’d talk to me, as another applicant.”

“I’ll see what we can arrange,” Nuri said. “But right now, you’d better leave if you want to get into Central before they close the gates for the evening.”

As I picked up my weapons bag, my gaze drifted to Jonas. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” There was so little inflection in his voice I wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise.

I hesitated, then, with a nod to Nuri, turned and left. Cat and Bear shot ahead, excited to be on the move again. We made our way down through the various levels, the air thick with scents and sounds, filled with oncoming shadows and the pressing weight of everything above us. My skin crawled and my stomach twisted, and it was all I could do to maintain my pace, to not run like hell out of the too-close confines of the place.

A feeling I oddly didn’t get when I was at Nuri’s.

The late-afternoon air was cool and sweet, and I sucked it in, cleansing my lungs of all that was Chaos. Then I pulled out the piece of paper, quickly memorizing it before tearing it into tiny pieces and releasing it on the breeze. Bear chased several of the pieces, his laughter running across my senses and making me smile.

We followed the old river’s course and, in very little time, reached the South Siding exit—where a rush of excited, worried little ghosts met us.

While we’d been away, someone had tried yet again to get into our home.