Harlequin Nocturne March 2014 Bundle: Shadowmaster\Running with Wolves (12 page)

“I don't know,” she said slowly. “But I'm beginning to realize that...there's something wrong about all this. Even if you sent me back now, I'd leave without really understanding why things are as they are, here in the Fringe, in the rest of the city.”

“You
know
why. The people here are a burden on the Mids and Nobs. The higher-ups would deport them if they could get away with it.”

“You can mock me,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I did say that I didn't question my duty, not at first. But any person has the right to change her mind. Even against her duty.”

Drakon didn't believe her sudden change of heart. It had come too quickly, like everything else.

“Are you prepared to accept the consequences if you choose to betray your own people?” he asked bluntly.

“You said it yourself. There must be another way of solving the problems we face as a society, and with the Nightsiders.”

“And what do
you
see as the solution, Lark?”

“I don't know!” She took one step toward him and then another, until their faces were literally inches apart. “I don't know the answer. To anything.”

She put her arms around him and kissed him, hungrily, madly, and as Drakon returned the kiss he felt that urge to strip her clothes from her body, take her against the wall, indifferent to those who might pass by.

Lark gasped and let go as if she'd been reading his thoughts. Her skin was flushed and hot, her breath and heartbeat racing. She reached down and grasped his hand.

“Not here,” she said, her voice little more than a pant. “My room. Or yours. I don't care. I just want to feel you—”

Drakon turned his hand and tightened his fingers around hers. “Don't even try,” he said, fighting his lust down to a more manageable desire. “Come with me.”

He pulled her into the room where young Patterson was waiting. She stopped near the door.

“I won't tell you!” Patterson snarled. “If that bitch is still here...”

“Give it up, boy,” Drakon said. “I know it's all been a trick from the beginning, and what your
‘fugitive'
was sent to do.”

“You
told
him?” the young man said, turning his head in Lark's direction.

“To save your life,” Drakon said. “Just as she did before, when the Scrappers would have taken you. The people of the Fringe are just looking for a way to get back at the Enforcers. I'd just as soon have fed you to them.”

“You should have let me die,” Patterson said, turning his head toward Lark. “You've made it easier for the Bosses to defend themselves against us, haven't you? You've told them our plans, everything we've worked for!”

He spat to the side of the chair. Drakon stepped behind the young Enforcer and yanked the blindfold off his head. Patterson blinked several times, struggling to bring his vision into focus. Drakon moved again to face the young man, gently pushing Lark aside. “Look at me.”

The Enforcer blinked again. “I still don't know you,” he said.

Drakon slowly released his breath. “No,” he said. “You don't know me. But your father was the most brutal captain and commissioner the Force has ever known. And even if the mayor authorized this sweep, Patterson was behind it.”

Matthew's eyes widened. “What are you talking about? My father...he has nothing to do with this!”

“Your father has been behind every major sweep by the Enforcers over the past six years,” Drakon said, barely controlling his rage.

“Yes!” Matthew said, trying to rise. “He helped keep this city alive!”

Drakon caught the young man's jaw in his hand. “Hunting men and women like dogs, violently separating families, sending the most petty criminals to Erebus...”

“Necessary!” Matthew said, his voice muffled by Drakon's merciless grip. “To save us...just like now!”

“Stop!” Lark grabbed Drakon's hand and pulled it away. “You have nothing to gain by—”

“It doesn't matter,” Drakon said, releasing Patterson and leaning down to stare into the young man's eyes. “I never believed your operative's claims about possessing secret information and wanting to escape the city. I would never have let her leave this Hold alive. And you'll only get out if your father pays the price.”

Lark stared at him, almost as pale as the Enforcer. “Sammael,” she said. “Please. Let me talk to you outside.”

“You've said enough!” Matthew shouted. “You're obviously on his side now. What turned you into a traitor? His skill at—”

Moving more quickly than the young man could possibly detect, Drakon yanked up the untied blindfold and pulled it between the Enforcer's teeth as if it were a bit on an unruly horse.

“
You've
said enough, I think,” he said, tightening the knot at the base of Patterson's skull. “This game is over.” He turned to Lark. “You have more to say to me?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I want to know why your hatred for John Patterson is so personal.”

Chapter 12

P
hoenix left the interrogation room before Sammael could drag her out, wondering if she'd made a mistake. Instinct had demanded that she throw Sammael off balance again, but it was more than that. She truly wanted to know why he hated Patterson.

Sammael had called Matthew's father a cruel leader. But it didn't make sense that such hatred was related to the death of Sammael's father, since his story couldn't be true. He was a Daysider, and though no one knew exactly how Daysiders were created, his forebears would never have been in the Enclave. It was highly unlikely that Sammael would have encountered Patterson in the Zone, since Enforcers seldom ventured outside the city Wall.

The large men who had carried Sammael to the Hold were waiting in the corridor as if they'd been summoned to arrive at a specific time. “Keep him under guard,” Sammael told them as he walked out. “No one is to speak to him. Understood?”

One of the men saluted, and the other nodded.

“My room,” Sammael said to Phoenix, not waiting for her to follow.

She caught up with him quickly, but didn't attempt to speak until they had reached his quarters and he'd closed the door with more than necessary force. She sat in the chair, forcing herself to relax as he took up his usual pacing.

“You once asked me about my background,” he said suddenly, never breaking stride. “I told you I came from the Mids, as you did. I told you I was married. Had a son. I told you they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His burned fists closed, and his face tightened with a show of agony as much emotional as physical. “My father wasn't the only one in my family to suffer at the hands of Enforcers. My wife and son were two of many innocents caught between a team of Enforcers and a small crowd of protesters. The protesters were no danger to anyone, and my family was only passing through the area when the Enforcers opened fire.”

He was so utterly sincere that Phoenix began to feel tears in her eyes again. The unwilling sympathy made it that much easier to pretend she believed him.

“I'm...so sorry,” she whispered.

His rigid expression didn't change. “One man led the assault, though his deliberate malice, his intent to kill and not just control, was covered up later as a small error in judgment.”

“John Patterson,” Phoenix whispered. “And you want the son to pay for the father's sins. Matthew may defend his father, but he might not fully understand the extremes Senator Patterson went to during his military career.”

“And I still don't plan to kill him,” Sammael said. “As long as his father will pay to get him back.”

Phoenix released her breath slowly. “How?”

“‘Common sense will tell you that holding young Patterson will bring the whole city down on your head,'”
he quoted her mockingly. “The boy's a hero, according to you. Even if the mayor was pressured into this sweep for political reasons, he can't oppose saving his rival's son.” He met her gaze. “The only other way is to dump Matthew's body in another Boss's turf. And even then, if anyone else knew where he was or what he was doing when he disappeared...”

“What
is
your plan?” she asked.

“Much of it will depend on you, Lark. On your courage and cleverness.”

Phoenix managed to maintain her composure. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to return to Aegis—to one of your superiors, one you believe you can trust—and tell her that one of the Bosses you've been investigating has Matthew Patterson. You will tell this superior that, in exchange for Matthew's life, you must deliver all files connected to John Patterson's career with the Bureau, particularly records about the incident in which he killed my family. Do whatever you must to convince them to let you take those files. And then you will tell Patterson that his son will be killed unless he and certain politicians meet at the border of the Fringe at a specific time one week from today.”

“But why? They'll never agree to—”

“I'm betting they will. They can bring all the security they like. I intend to bring those files with me when I return Matthew and read them to the assembled politicians. It may do nothing to harm Patterson, but at least the information will be on public record.”

“You think I'll just...go along with this, and not betray you?” Phoenix asked, unable to believe that Sammael genuinely thought his plan would work.

Unless he had a plan within a plan. Since he hadn't lost a family that had never existed, maybe he thought he could use the situation to aid the assassin in—

“Yes,” he said, mercifully interrupting her thoughts. “And you won't lead them back here, because you'll know the whole time that young Patterson's life is at stake. I give you the choice, Lark. Choose to let me have my revenge, or let Patterson's son die.”

With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Phoenix realized that what she did now could determine the fate of everyone in the Fringe. In the city itself. She hadn't yet found a way to question Sammael about rumors of an assassin, let alone search the Hold for proof of his affiliation with other Opiri spies in the city.

Understanding hit her so hard and fast that she almost doubled over. Sammael wasn't only asking her to gain access to files that might not even exist, but expecting her to hold the Enforcers off for a full week. Maybe that had always been his intention. If he was actively helping the assassin, the killer would probably act during that very week.

But she still might have a chance of surprising Sammael, disable him somehow and turn him over to Aegis for questioning. She would have to fulfill Sammael's demands very quickly if she was to have any hope of helping prevent the assassination attempt.

And Matthew could easily die during such an operation. What would the death of a senator's son, popular in his own right, do to the city?

“Don't do this, Sammael,” she said, making no attempt to conceal her anguish. “No revenge is worth the kind of risk you're talking about. Send Matthew back. Leave him in some neutral area far from the Hold and let them come get him.”

“And allow him to report all the questions I asked, the things I told him?”

“They'll kill you the second they have Matthew.”

“Do you think I'm that stupid, Lark? I'll take plenty of precautions, and you'll stay out of the way.”

Phoenix recognized the futility and danger of arguing with Sammael again. “All right,” she said. “Assuming I can get these files and can get back to you, the Enforcers back off and these politicians agree, what will you do when Matthew is safe? No matter what happens to Patterson, do you think they won't send every Enforcer and Aegis agent back to look for you as soon as the week is up?”

He strode to the chair and stood over her, his breath coming in short puffs as if he'd just run a marathon. “I'll have arranged to move the Hold by then, warn the Bosses I consider worth saving and prepare for the next full sweep. You'll tell your superiors that I and my crew will run continuous patrols to make sure the Enforcers haven't broken the deal you make with them. We spot one Enforcer or operative, and Matthew dies.”

“And the people you've helped?” she asked. “The Scrappers and desperate Cits who've come here because they have nowhere else to go? You'll risk letting them be swept up, too, when the Enforcers come back in to hunt for you?”

“I'll personally see to it that everyone who wants to leave has a chance to get out of the city first.”

“In one week? That's insane.”

“The southern Wall will be left unguarded.”

“What about those too afraid to evacuate?” she asked.

“I'm not likely to change their minds.”

Phoenix rose, turning away before he could see her wildly conflicting emotions. But Sammael came up behind her and took her by the shoulders.

“If the Bureau or Aegis had the means to take everyone in the Fringe,” he said, “they'd have done so long ago. I told you there were reasons they wouldn't. But I'll do whatever I can for those who want help.” He released her. “You and I have preparations to make before you go.”

“When do you want me to leave?”

“Tomorrow night.” Suddenly he seized her, kissing her hard. She began to return the kiss, broke free and backed away.

“You're more my enemy now than you ever were,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “And when this is ov—”

He collapsed before he could finish.

* * *

Drakon woke to the feeling of cool moisture on his hands, face and chest, a soothing relief from the pain that had tormented him since he'd found Lark at the building during the attack.

Lark had made it almost easy for him to pretend he wasn't badly injured. She'd been so caught up in the drama of Matthew Patterson's interrogation, the stories they had told each other
and his plans for his prisoner that he'd managed to keep his face and body from betraying his agony.

But now he found Lark looking down at him, her hazel eyes filled with mixed emotions he couldn't read. His shirt was off, and so were the rest of his clothes. A sheet was lightly draped over him, but he knew she had seen the burns. It was fortunate for him that the sunlight had barely penetrated his clothing on his shoulders, upper arms, hands and face.

“You've been asleep for a long time,” Lark said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

Her simple question calmed him when he should have been most ready to act, to...

Silence her? Kill her?

But she did nothing, said nothing. She held him down gently when he tried to sit up, pressing on his stomach to avoid his injured skin.

“There's no point in struggling,” she said. “There wasn't much I could do for your burns, so you might as well let your body heal itself.” She sighed. “All that time with Matthew, and afterward with me, you were trying to hide this. Trying to stay on your feet, fooling everyone. But you only made it worse.”

“Has anyone else seen me?” he asked.

His tone must have betrayed his concern, for Lark leaned back, her expression less worried now than wary.

“Brita dropped in briefly,” she said, watching his face. “She was concerned, but oddly enough, she seemed to trust me to look after you.”

Feeling an utter fool, Drakon wondered for the first time if Brita had done anything to make Lark suspect that she, too, wasn't human. But if she'd left him in Lark's care, she'd believed that Lark hadn't put two and two together and wouldn't recognize the nature of Drakon's burns.

Drakon hadn't had the chance to tell Brita that Lark had already guessed he wasn't human. Did she suspect that Lark, too, was part Opir? If Lark had done anything to make her believe that, she was in more danger than ever before.

He had to learn what Brita knew. And what she might do with that knowledge.

“Anyone else come in?” he asked Lark.

“No one except Repo, who brought the medkit.”

And Repo, like the rest of the crew, didn't know his true nature. Lark was an agent of Aegis, and Brita had been wrong to think she wouldn't figure out the truth.

“I thought you were a Daysider from almost the moment I met you,” she said, answering his unspoken thoughts.

He laughed. The joke was entirely on him. “But that isn't what you think now,” he said.

Lark leaned over to give him a sip of water from a cracked glass. “You're a Nightsider. A full Opir.”

“A bloodsucker,” he said, wincing as he shifted his weight on the mattress.

“The man who saved my life from The Preacher's crew, even if I might have taken most of them down with me.” She wet a fresh cloth in a bowl and dabbed at his right shoulder. “Of course I don't know why, but the fact is that you went out in the sunlight to help me, and I'm grateful.”

He lifted one hand, wincing at the pull of burned skin. “Grateful,” he said. “You can afford to be. I can hardly hurt you now.”

“By killing me, or just taking my blood?”

He licked his lips, realizing he hadn't accessed his blood stores for three days. Lark's nearness had aroused an agony worse than the pain of his burns.

“If I'd ever taken blood from anyone here,” he said, “they'd know what I am. There are enough of them to kill me, if they all turned on me at once.”

“But you must have your own supply. Where do you get it?”

“It's brought to me periodically. I don't know the source.”

Phoenix felt slightly ill, though she couldn't believe that he'd deliberately take blood acquired by violent means. “Stored somewhere on the premises, I presume?” she asked.

“Somewhere,” he said, closing his eyes.

“I can understand why you don't want to tell me,” she said. “But that's the least of your worries now, isn't it? I know the only reason you'd be hiding in the Fringe is if you're a spy for Erebus.”

“Have you been hunting for Opir agents all along?” he asked wearily.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

Drakon tensed and released the muscles of his left arm, testing the flexibility of his skin. It still hurt mightily, but he was mending.

Just not quickly enough.

“Yes,” Lark said at last, sitting back in the chair as if she was relieved that at least some of the playacting was over. “I was hunting for Opir spies. Did you consider that possibility before?”

“It crossed my mind, after I learned what you were.”

“Was the story you told me about your family true?”

“It was,” he said, looking away.

“Everything? The Enforcers, your wife...your son?”

No,
he thought.
Not everything
. “I lost them exactly as I told you,” he said.

“I'm sorry,” she said, with that emotion that always seemed so genuine. “I couldn't believe you before because I assumed you were a Daysider, and Daysiders don't have human wives and children. But now I know you were once—”