Harlequin Nocturne March 2014 Bundle: Shadowmaster\Running with Wolves (22 page)

“I didn't know why you'd agreed to go through with...what Drakon asked you to do after he let you go,” she said to Matthew.

“Once I read through those files, I knew my father deserved to be exposed. I admit I didn't expect...” He blinked rapidly. “Sometimes even enemies can gain a little respect for each other. Drakon didn't kill me. And even if he used me, he had reason.” He sighed. “You look sick,” he said, meeting Drakon's gaze. “I know what they've been doing to you. I would have stopped it if I could. You'd better sit down.”

When Drakon didn't move, Matthew looked at Phoenix. Feeling dazed for what seemed like the hundredth time since she'd woken in the hospital bed, Phoenix grabbed Drakon's arm and steered him back to the chair. He didn't fight her. She offered him the water again, and he drank.

“Maybe you'd better fill me in,” she said to Matthew, “and tell me why you're here. If you want to sit...”

He remained where he was and gazed at the stained concrete under his feet. “I haven't forgotten what Sammael—Drakon—said when you and he brought me to the Hold. That my father was the most brutal captain and commissioner the Department of Deportation had ever seen. I thought it was all just part of Drakon's interrogation. To break me down. I was proud of my father for keeping the peace, helping to keep the city alive, but I didn't know...”

“It wasn't your fault,” Phoenix said quietly.

He looked up again. “I should have known. There were...signs, the way he acted, even at home. And I've been an Enforcer for three years. I heard talk sometimes, when people thought I couldn't hear. And then I really saw the Fringe, what goes on there, how those people suffer. I still didn't want to believe, because when I joined, I just wanted to make him—”

Matthew broke off, flushing, but Phoenix knew exactly what he'd been about to say. How much had
he
been trying to prove, when his father, for good or ill, was such a legend in the city. Was that why he'd tackled her and
“Sammael”
alone that night?

“Lieutenant Patterson—” she began.

“Chavez,” he said. “My mother's name. That's what I'm using now.” He lifted his head. “I'm sorry about what I said to you in the Hold.”

“You were trying to protect my cover.”

“They didn't tell us that you were after spies,” he said. “Only that your real purpose was to find the Bosses.” He looked at Drakon. “You're the real victim in all this.”

“You know that's not true,” Drakon said, a grim set to his mouth.

Something Phoenix couldn't interpret passed between the two men. “I understand why you thought you had to kill the mayor,” Matthew said. “You were a soldier, doing your duty. But you had another reason, too. I didn't have any idea when I left the Hold with the files. But since I got back, I've had access to things I know my father didn't want anyone else to see. I have a pretty good idea of what my father was doing besides trying to become mayor of the Enclave.”

Glancing quickly at Drakon, Phoenix took a deep breath.

“It's okay,” Matthew said. “No one can hear us, even though someone should be shouting this from the rooftops.” He dragged his hand over his face. “You knew about this...thing, didn't you?”

“Not until very recently,” Drakon said.

“So Erebus doesn't know yet?”

“Not unless...” He trailed off, and Phoenix knew he wasn't ready to tell Matthew about Brita. It could set off a whole avalanche that no one might be able to stop. “Not when I left. Do you have proof?”

“Not yet. But I'll find it.” Matthew managed another very faint smile. “The thing about my generation...most of us don't hold with the idea of going through another war. We don't want to put our asses out there to be killed because we're all too stupid to make it work. So I guess we have to find a way to stop it, if no one else will.”

“What will you do when you have the information you're looking for?” Phoenix asked, feeling a fresh stirring of hope.

“First I plan to resign from the Force, as soon as the investigation into my father's death is finished. Then we'll have to figure out a way—”

“You,” Drakon said. “
You'll
have to figure it out. It's unlikely I'll still be here.”

Phoenix turned on Drakon. “I told you—”

“We don't lie to each other,” Matthew said. “Maybe what we do isn't right sometimes. Maybe most of the time. But we've always stood together. I trusted what Drakon said before. I believe him now.”

“What do you mean
we?
” Phoenix asked. “Who doesn't lie to each other?”

“Phoenix,” Drakon said, pulling her toward him. She knelt beside his chair, looking up into his pain-racked face. He touched her cheek. “I told you I was deported because I was a dissenter. I told you my wife and child died in a clash between the Enforcers and protesters.”

“But you weren't there when it happened,” she said, the words thick in her throat.

“No. But I was never a dissident. I was an Enforcer.”

Chapter 22

A
n Enforcer.

Hardly able to make sense of his words, Phoenix tried to rise and listed to one side. Immediately Drakon was up, helping her to the other chair. Matthew was beside her in an instant.

“It's the drug she gave you,” Drakon said, standing over her protectively as if he expected Brita to come charging in and force more of the stuff down her gullet. “You left the infirmary too soon.”

“Drug?” Matthew said, alarm crossing his face. “What—”

“I'm all right,” she said, waving the men off. She was both shocked and furious—again—and she was sick and tired of being both. She'd been nothing but an utter idiot from the moment the mission had begun.

“You were an Enforcer?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, crouching beside her. “Beginning when Patterson was still a captain and through his appointment as commissioner. I was young and determined to protect the Enclave. I never noticed the abuses, or believed I was contributing to them. I married the year after I joined up, and my son...” He paused, as if to catch his breath. “Mark was born the year after that. But Patterson got worse as time went on, actively searching for ways to tempt or even force people into committing crimes.”

“And no one had any idea,” Phoenix said quietly.

“Everyone in the Force did, whether they wanted to admit it or not. And someone outside had to have known. Until a few years ago, most people thought the Enforcers were doing the right thing, ridding the Enclave of crime while keeping the Opiri from attacking. And I was one of them. I did exactly as I was ordered.”

The pain in his voice was almost more than Phoenix could bear. “You arrested innocent people?”

“I stood by even when I suspected that many were being pushed into committing proscribed acts and participated in arrests of men and women who should never have been considered offenders,” he said. “It was all quotas, meant to enhance Patterson's political ambitions.” He met her gaze, and she could see him struggling with his shame and overwhelming grief. “But a time came when we were rounding up an entire family because they had raided a Dumpster behind a restaurant frequented by the elite. That was when I understood it was wrong.”

Phoenix reached out for him. “Drakon—”

“Charles, remember?” he said bitterly. “But then Charlie went rogue. He started looking for chances to read the rosters before the days' sweeps started, for names of people to be
‘investigated.'
That almost always meant arrested. I'd find those people—usually only a few—and warn them. Some fled into the Fringe. Others were still arrested and deported.”

“And you were always in danger of being caught yourself.”

“That didn't matter. I began to see that I still wasn't doing enough. My wife—” He seemed to choke, and then found his voice again. “Cynthia encouraged me. When I said I wanted to help people find ways out of the city, she went along with me all the way. So I started contacting some of the Fringe Bosses and learning where the secret passages were. Sometimes I used blackmail, threatening to expose them. After a while I knew enough that I was able to gather allies, some dissidents and some people from the Fringe, to help me with a kind of Underground Railroad.”

“But they caught you,” she said, guessing the rest of the terrible story. “You were arrested and condemned and deported.”

“The men and women I thought of as friends tricked me,” he said. “Even the ones I thought might be sympathetic. They set a trap and I walked into it. Cynthia and my son—Mark, who was five years old then—were caught in the wrong place at the
right
time. The day after I was sentenced, the so-called dissidents attacked the Enforcers, in the park where Cynthia and Mark usually spent the afternoon after he got out of school. But it wasn't the dissidents who were killed.”

Rising from her chair on unsteady legs, Phoenix put her arms around him. “I'm sorry,” she said, her tears wetting his torn shirt. “I'm sorry.”

He hardly reacted. “It wasn't coincidence, or bad luck,” he said in a dull voice. “
They
wanted to set an example. And they made sure I knew about it before I actually left the city with the other new convicts. When I got to Erebus...I was treated better than among my own people. I had a lot of time to think about what they'd done.”

And that was when he'd turned against the Enclave, Phoenix thought. Against its corruption, against a way of life he had come to hate.

Yet he still wanted to help the people of the Fringe, the desperate and disenfranchised, knowing that what he planned to do...

“You told me,” she said, “that some dissenters on the Council in Erebus had been considering other ways of creating a new peace by tearing down the old and rebuilding.”

“But they weren't the ones who sent me,” he said. “Do you know where I learned my marksmanship? I was a sniper for the Force. I only took out
dangerous
criminals. According to Patterson.”

My God,
she thought. The guilt. The terrible, wrenching guilt.

“Why hasn't anyone recognized you?” she asked.

“For the same reason they didn't know I was Opir. I don't look exactly the way I did before. Geneticists in Erebus altered my appearance. It would have been pointless to send me into the Enclave otherwise.”

So much made sense now, Phoenix thought. Terrible sense. But whatever had been done to Drakon and his family, even if he could prove it, he could never be pardoned. She had to go on just as she'd planned.

Without telling Drakon.

“You see why I had to help him,” Matthew said. “I owed him. For what my father did to help destroy his life.”

“You owe me nothing,” Drakon said, moving Phoenix gently aside and getting to his feet again. He swayed a little, and Phoenix braced him. They held on to each other, as if together they made one strong, invulnerable whole.

“It's so clear now, why I had such a hard time understanding how you could be a good man, an Opir, and an assassin all at once,” she said, resting her cheek against his. “You found out that the life you'd devoted yourself to was wrong. You tried to help, and your family was murdered. You were a serf, a vassal and a Freeblood who lost a beloved mentor. And then a spy for Erebus in this Enclave, posing as a Fringe Boss. It got to the point where you didn't know who or what you were anymore.”

“It's no excuse. Hundreds have been through worse. Matthew,” he said, looking at the young Enforcer, “do whatever you can to find proof of the weapon, and where it's being produced. Phoenix, it'll be up to you and anyone you trust to find a way to get word out to people who would be against it.” He hesitated. “Lieutenant Chavez, will you give us a moment alone?”

The young man flushed. “Yeah.” He glanced at his watch. “And I don't think they'll let us stay in here much longer, anyway. Not with the monitors off. But there's something I have to do first.”

Drakon nodded, and Matthew advanced on him, fist raised. Before Phoenix could intervene, he punched Drakon in the face with his full weight behind it. Drakon staggered but didn't fall. Dark, thin blood gushed from his nose. He smiled wryly.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No problem,” Matthew said. “I'll buy you another five minutes.” He ducked his head and quickly retreated, buzzed the door open and almost ran out of the room.

“Was that really necessary?” Phoenix asked, vainly searching for something to stanch the bleeding. But the flow had already lessened to a trickle, and Drakon showed no additional signs of pain.

She moved toward him to take him in her arms, but he stepped back as if he had just seen something terrible enough to rob him of speech. He touched his nose and whispered an unrecognizable curse.

“The drug,” he rasped.

“I told you...I'm all right,” Phoenix said, reaching toward him.

“They drugged
me,
” he said, focusing on her face. “It...knocked me out, weakened me. The woman—Chan—said it was recently developed in their labs. I thought then...”

“Chan?” Phoenix asked, shaking her head in helpless denial. “No. I can't...”

Drakon stared at the blood on his fingertips. “It could be the pathogen or something like it. They could have been...testing it. And I...”

Phoenix's heart forgot to beat. “You think they've infected you?”

“I don't know. But we don't know how it's spread. I
kissed
you.”

She tried to make her brain work again. If this was the same pathogen Shepherd had given her to use on Brita, Drakon would be experiencing flu-like symptoms. Shepherd hadn't said how long it would take to kill, but he hadn't indicated that it would be a protracted illness. And though he was weak, Drakon didn't seem to be suffering serious effects.

“I think you'd be dead by now,” she said, desperate to believe it. “And we have to assume it doesn't work on dhampires, or the Enclave would never dare risk developing it. They might accidentally kill their own agents, or have it used against them by the enemy.”

“You have to stay away from me,” he said. “Go, now.”

“If I were going to get it through a kiss, I already have it,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “We don't have much time left.”

It was as if she were talking to the Wall. He drifted away.

“Drakon!” She ran up behind him, grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. Then she slapped him as hard as she could.

He snapped out of his detached state with a snarl and a lunge, as if he'd forgotten who he was. Then the savagery and confusion slid from his face, and he recognized her again.

“I'm sorry,” she said, “but we're going to have to operate as if we're both going to survive this. We need to talk about Brita, before we—”

“Brita is dangerous, but I know she's still looking for the source of the weapon,” Drakon said, fully rational again. “She's unlikely to return to Erebus without hard proof or a sample of the drug itself, but if she feels threatened, there's no telling what she might do.”

Phoenix detested the fact that she had to keep lying to him. “We're looking for the same thing she is,” she said. “And if the mayor can help, we'll have to trust him in this. I think I know what to do about Brita, and you're going to have to believe I can do it.” She gripped his shoulders. “I've made a lot of mistakes. But please, believe in me, Drakon. Don't try to protect me. This is my job.”

Careful to use only his clean hand, Drakon stroked a long strand of hair out of her face. “I believe in you. When I...” He closed his eyes. “When have I ever protected you, Phoenix? When have I ever protected anyone?”

“People are free and safe because of you,” she said, rubbing his chest gently. “You want to protect me because of the ones you lost before. But I'm ready, Drakon. I'm ready.”

She stood on her toes and kissed him. He tried to break free, but in a moment instinct took over. And perhaps the knowledge that it was too late to go back. It was a kiss of tenderness, not passion. Of hope, not despair.

And of love.
Her
love, if not his.

A sharp buzz interrupted them, and they separated quickly, Drakon moving to the chair, Phoenix to the other side of the table.

“Visiting time's over,” the guard said as he walked through the door. His expression was blank, and Phoenix had no idea what he was thinking, if he was permitted to think at all. If at any time the monitors had been on, Shepherd would know everything that had passed in this room.

But she believed that Matthew had managed to shut them off, even if Shepherd had been lying to Phoenix about leaving her and Drakon alone. The mayor would have no reason to believe that she wasn't fully prepared to go through with what he had demanded of her.

She strode to the door without looking back.

* * *

Phoenix didn't have to look for Brita. The Nightsider was stationed in front of Phoenix's quarters, leaning casually against the wall as if she had been waiting to share coffee and a bit of Agency gossip with a good friend. Phoenix thought of the syringe hidden among the uniforms hung in her small closet, deliberately left there because she couldn't abide the thought of carrying such a lethal and hideous weapon when she'd gone to visit Drakon. As long as Brita didn't suspect, Phoenix could get to it if she had to. If there was no other choice.

But she hoped Brita would give her a choice.

“Why don't we go into your room?” Brita asked as Phoenix approached cautiously. “Don't worry, I won't bite.”

Phoenix brushed past her and unlocked the door. “I didn't think you would,” she said coldly. “Come in.”

Brita shut the door behind her and glanced around the small room. “Maybe now, having helped bring down the bad guys, you'll rate an upgrade.”

“I'm not interested in upgrades,” Phoenix said. “And if you're still concerned about the matters we've discussed before, you'll shut up and listen.”

Arching an eyebrow, Brita turned the desk chair around and sat, seemingly all polite attention. But her eyes burned with hatred and the promise of death.

“Before you tell me your news,” she said, “I want to know what you were discussing with our beloved mayor.”

“A finger in every pie?” Phoenix asked, walking casually to her closet and pretending to look through her uniforms. “Or did you know he'd want to see me?”

Brita laughed. “There isn't a single man or woman in this Agency who doesn't know about you and Shepherd. But he didn't want to see you because of your past relationship or out of concern for your health, did he?”

“Since you already seem to know,” Phoenix said, finding the tube and slipping it into her jacket pocket, “let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?” She sat on the bed facing Brita. “Shepherd told me that he and Patterson were working together to find a way to stop the Opiri once and for all, and they were convinced that the Council was planning some kind of attack very soon. He said they'd deliberately heightened the appearance of political conflict in the Enclave to goad the Expansionist Party into making a premature move, hoping to encourage conflict within the ruling Council. The rumors of an assassin in the Fringe confirmed that they'd taken the bait.”