Chapter 9
Finder [ fahyn -der ] noun
The hereditary line of Talents able to locate objects they’ve previously come into contact with by focusing their will. Denoted by a purple halo around their irises, these Talents are best utilized in locating natural resources or as companions.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“It’s a sad fact that there are ramifications to breeding strictly within the lines. Strange quirks in talent have begun cropping up, as well as mental instabilities. The rate at which we’re culling those with dangerous tendencies will soon outstrip those we deem acceptable. It brings the sustainability of our program into question without the addition of fresh genetics.”
– L. Merkel, Head Geneticist,
The Source
“Your wife.”
Flynn shrugged, focusing on the road. His emotions churned, not helping hers. Kara squirmed in her damp seat. Yeah, that’s why she was uncomfortable.
The concept of marriage was foreign. At the Source, she would’ve been assigned a consort to bond. Once impregnated, she’d then be isolated with others gestating. The offspring was removed after birth, the bond broken, and a new consort assigned. The cycle continued indefinitely. Only subs married. Something about cohabitation and mutual regard…
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you’ll have to learn how to cook, do my laundry, darn socks. Raise a passel of kids, you know, that kind of thing.” He turned up the heat. It smelled like dead mouse.
“Are you serious?”
“So serious.”
She smacked him. “Jerk! Don’t do that!”
“What?” Flynn laughed, mussing his hair. “I mean, the part about kids is kind of true…”
He said it like he expected her to be bred quickly. How strong was his talent? His halos were as wide as hers, when she could see them. What did they even do with offspring out here? Her stomach roiled, remembering that woman in one of the safe houses she’d passed through, a tiny mewling thing at her exposed breast, another grasping at her skirts with its filthy little hands. Bile rose in Kara’s throat, and she choked down the burning sick, hand on her abdomen.
And she’d done it to herself. Her fingers curled, biting into her palm, wishing she could bind up everything she was feeling and shove it away with all the rest—“You said you have a stop to make?” She picked up his ratty hat from the console. It was olive, with muddy-colored dogs howling around the bottom.
Flynn eyed her contemplating it. “Don’t mess with my beanie.”
“What if I can bind the wear on it?”
“Yeah?” His incredulity made her smile.
“Sure, binding can do lots of things. I don’t understand what your issue is if you’re a Talent.”
Flynn leaned back in the driver’s seat, rubbing his upper lip. “Who said I had an issue? I’ll think about it. ”
He was such a liar. Kara rolled her eyes and watched the icy landscape go by. They passed a car even more decrepit than theirs, then a transport blew by them both, its thrusters at eye-level. It left a bare streak of cracked pavement behind it, and Flynn changed lanes to take advantage.
“Where are they going?”
“They bus people in from work camps. Corporation takes timber and gravel out of here.”
“And that car? I thought Outside was pretty much empty.”
“It is and isn’t. There’s plenty of people if you know where to look. That was probably a scavenger. Even now, a lot of stuff’s left from before the Surge. They get decent money for it down south. It’s too much trouble to chase them off, Source just razes the squats when they get big.”
The thought of making a living off the dead made Kara’s stomach turn again. “Is that what you do, scavenge?”
A burst of guilt-twined remorse, quickly tamped out. “No. What’s the brown halo?”
She stiffened, trying to swallow her panic. “It’s a breeding flaw.”
He shot her a look and snorted. “You know I can tell you’re full of shit, right?”
“Just drop it, okay?”
Flynn shrugged, but she felt his unease. It was another several miles before she realized he hadn’t answered her question. “You never said what that stop was.”
He blew out a heavy breath. She could almost taste his reluctance.
“I gotta get something of mine before we head north. So, back at the coop, I get that dick was Riegel, but who’s Ielle?”
“January’s centerfold.” Kara forced a laugh at his expression, trying to snuff the flare of anxiety the name brought. “She’s Riegel’s… I don’t know what you’d call her. Favorite? The two of them liked to torment me. They’re both near-culls, flawed, but not enough for them to be put down. Her talent corrodes whatever she’s finding.”
Kara bit her lip. Torment. That was a nice way of putting it. Flynn took her hand. A smile flitted over her lips at his emotions coloring their bond. He was so sweet, thinking he could protect her. If she couldn’t keep herself safe, then nothing could, but at least out here she wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.
What was that going to be like?
Her head felt light. If there hadn’t been an entire squad at the coop—Bloodlust licked at the edges of her consciousness, and she quickly buried it. Flynn inhaled sharply, shooting her a look. What the heck? He said he wasn’t a Breaker; he shouldn’t be able to?—
“She sounds lovely. What about him? You could’ve told me he wasn’t a Binder.” He glanced over meaningfully, looking her up and down.
Kara wet her lips. If she didn’t have to pretend, then why was admitting it so hard? “Riegel and I share a dam. Our sires are different, but they’re both Breakers. His cross didn’t go well. Clinically, he’s a psychopath.”
“For real? They’re seriously breeding fucking dualities?”
That tone in his voice. That’s why it was so hard. She looked out the window, not wanting to get into it.
They drove, listening to the tires hum across the asphalt. Kara picked at the peeling vinyl armrest. His concern had slowly faded, replaced by a nagging sense of unease. She snuck a peek at him, and he caught her at it.
“So, what, ah… What was with that ring?”
The question took her off guard, and he’d know if she lied.
“It was my dam’s signet,” she grudgingly admitted. It’d been the only thing she’d taken showing her status. It probably didn’t mean spit out here.
His eyebrow rose, and he changed his grip on the steering wheel. “Which House?”
Or maybe it did. Crud. His emotions belied how calm his voice was, and she didn’t want to answer. He was giving off that dangerous vibe and abruptly veered to the side of the road. Kara edged away from him, her mouth dry. His emotions were a building storm.
“Which, one, Kara?” He repeated the question staccato through gritted teeth, slamming the car into park.
She shrank back from the look on his face. “Jester.”
At the word, his anger coalesced into a blinding burst of fury. The air went thick with it, crushing her against the door. Her heart pounded, torn between remaining absolutely still and fleeing for her life. She scrabbled at the restraint, then gave up and there was a knife in her hand. Her body flushed with heat, wanting him to come at her, and terrified he would. What was wrong with her? She sat gripping the hilt with white knuckles, panting at his rage. It slowly bled out as he fought to master himself. A deep sadness followed in its wake. She stayed pressed against the door, watching him warily. That rabid, bestial anger… That was inside of him?
“Of course it is.”
She started, thinking he’d answered her.
“Jester.” Flynn laughed, seeing the knife. The betrayal in his eyes was wrenching. Kara put a hand to her mouth, his emotions leaching into hers. He made a face, clamping down on something, cutting her off from most of what he was feeling. How did he?—
“Cal couldn’t leave it the fuck alone. Let’s get this all out on the table. You’re Nora’s daughter?”
Kara nodded cautiously, wondering how Flynn could possibly know that and hurt he’d shut her out. He’d picked up his beanie, fingering the stitches as he glared out the window.
“Nora Jester’s one of the people responsible for my mother’s murder,” Flynn gritted out, then laughed again. “I should’ve figured it out as soon as I saw your halos. Once Cal gets his teeth into something—Damn it, I’m a fucking idiot!” He violently rifled his hair, staring at the instrument panel. He took forced, deep breaths, then slammed the car into gear and got back on the interway.
Kara sat in shock, unsure of what’d just happened, but not about to ask for clarification. The intensity and volatility of his emotions was terrifying… And made her stomach flutter with a weird excitement. She wet her lips, re-sheathing the knife. His temper, reacting to her leaking ’lust… How was he not a Breaker? And if his mother was from the Source, how was he out here? Neither was a question she wanted to ask. Not now. What he’d said slowly filtered through her consternation.
Her dam murdering anyone was preposterous. Most Source Talents only knew their progenitors peripherally, but Nora had raised her. As the Source’s chief medic, she would die herself before causing harm. Injuring others went against everything a Binder stood for. Well, pure-blooded ones.
But that last night, beneath the city, Nora had known how to get her out, and the people to do it. People from Outside. What else didn’t Kara know about her?
No. Flynn had to be wrong.
His jaw flexed like he was grinding his teeth. He absolutely believed everything he’d said. His leaking emotions waxed between anger, hurt, and fierce regret. She had no idea how long they’d been driving when his hand took hers. She looked over at him in surprise.
“I’m sorry. Neither one of us are our parents.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Need leapt between them. “I’m sorry I scared you. My temper… It’s something I’ve been working on.”
Kara bit at her thumb, thinking about that part of her that’d liked it. She had to be out of her mind. He squeezed her hand, then dropped it to muss his unruly hair.
She smiled, reaching over to push an errant lock behind his ear. Desire ran between them, and she shivered. That last time at the coop had been intense. Another wave of heat washed through her. He glanced over, licking his lips and adjusting himself. Kara blushed and he laughed, all the earlier tension in him gone. She shook her head in wonder, never having known anyone so mercurial. He was like two different people.
“Flynn,” she ventured, “who is Cal?”
He stared at the road for so long she didn’t think he was going to—“He raised me. My dad has never wanted anything to do with me, and my mom was busy a lot. Cal took me down to the farm, taught me stuff. I owe him,” he said reluctantly, scratching at his jaw. “That’s where we’re headed, and it’s more than bringing you up. I’ve got some stuff to settle I’d rather not deal with, even if it’s the right thing.” He chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can do it. I know I don’t want it.”
She didn’t understand, but it made him miserable. Staring out the window, she left him to his thoughts. When he pulled off onto a deep, crumbling shoulder, the sun was just clearing the trees. He mussed his hair again and turned to her, his halos glowing a faint verdigris.
“This next bit’s gonna be a shit-show.” The lockdown he had put on their link was gone, and his anxiety ratcheted up hers.
She took his hand before he could pull at his hair again. “I’m not as defenseless as you think.”
He smiled, humoring her. Ugh. Why was his underestimation so irritating? She’d spent her entire life purposefully—It didn’t matter. If things got weird, he’d see soon enough.
“What about your talent; will it hide mine?”
“Yeah, if you were binding less than I was cloaking, but I won’t be. There are rules I have to follow. I can’t just disappear, I mean, I can, but I’m not allowed to let anyone but my House or line see me pull.” Dropping her hand, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then met her eyes with his intense green stare.
“If we hadn’t bonded, I wouldn’t have been able to cloak you back at the coop, and there are things I can’t talk about until we get up to the farm. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just bigger than me.” He grabbed two io-bars out of his bag, offering her one. She shook her head. The blue ones were disgusting. Shrugging, he tore a wrapper open, his anxiety palpable.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said after a minute, chewing, “where I gotta stop, the Fuil aren’t people you wanna fuck with. Here, look at me. You can’t walk around flashing your colors. Ah, showing your halos. It’s, uh, dangerous.” He reddened, taking another bite.
The way he said it, she didn’t think that’s all it was, though she couldn’t imagine what.
“Are the Fuil like the Sons?” They’d actually bombed the Source when she was younger. They weren’t the only radical anti-Talent hate group, but they were the worst.
“You don’t want to mess with either of them,” he said around his mouthful. “The Sons’ll kill you, slow and painful. The Fuil don’t give a shit if you’re a Talent or not, they’ll find a way to make money off you, and you’ll wish you were dead. Come on, chin up.” Kara raised her face to his, and he touched her cheek. A thread of lust leapt between them .
“Damn woman, keep it in your pants.”
She laughed, feeling her dimples. “The stories about the Sons seem too horrible to be true.”
Flynn frowned, intent on finishing his bar. His emotions were a mess, the overwhelming one guilt. What was that about? “They’re true, but they tend to stay farther south. The Source tries to keep a lid on them up here, but anti-Talent sentiment…” He shrugged. “The rest of the world isn’t real keen on us unless we’re on a tight leash, and a lot of times not even then. There, look in the mirror.” He laughed at her confusion. “Pull down the—no, the visor, here.” Reaching over, Flynn flipped a flap down for her so she could look into the itty mirror mounted on it.
Kara did a double take. Plain brown eyes stared back at her.
“You hid my halos!” She turned and kissed him.
Flynn cut the engine, pulling her to him, the thread of desire a deluge. She fumbled with the unfamiliar restraint, laughing as he batted her hand away to unclip it. He pushed his seat back, and she straddled his lap. Running her hands up the sides of his neck, she buried her fingers in his hair, her mouth on his. He kissed her back like he wanted to devour her, and she laughed again.
“What?”
“All I can taste is that disgusting bar.”
His eyebrow quirked, and he unbuckled his belt. “Put your mouth on something else then.” He grinned at her expression, his cock in his hand. “What? Trust me sweetheart, I’d love a turn, but the logistics suck.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Yeah, and I can feel how much you fucking love it.”
Kara rolled her eyes, stripping down. “Whatever. Think I’ll wait until you can return the favor. Until then, no more blue bars.”
“As my lady desires,” he murmured against her lips. His fingers were between her thighs, sliding, circling, scissoring deep… She threw her head back with a moan, and he rumbled back at her, licking up her throat. “You’re so goddamned tight?—”
“Please, Flynn…” She panted, wrapping her hand around him and stroking his thick length, drawing the blunt tip to her slick folds .
He groaned, raising her up. “Such a greedy little pussy.” His grip on her hips tightened, stopping her rapid descent to ease her wide so slowly she wanted to scream. Flynn chuckled at her frustrated whimper, nipping her lobe. “Go easy. You’re gonna hurt yourself. If there was more room in here, I’d spank it—Fuck, that shit gets you wet. You need me to punish you sweetheart?”
Kara’s pulse pounded, her mouth dry. Unable to process anything but the sudden raw need surging from him. “I-I just need you, now, please, just?—”
Flynn thrust upwards, and she clutched at him, yelping at the exquisite pain of his invasion. “That’s it, take it like a good girl.”
Her head lolled back, feeling his euphoria at her cry and primal pleasure from the lubricous crush of velvet enveloping him. The hot bite of his mouth on her breast, then plundering her lips, the reverberating passion through their bond, escalating their desire with the loss of him taking himself away, then coming back to her, a delicious torment.
Time slipped, both lost in the echo of her, feeling him, feeling her. She rocked above him, their gazes entwined. His eyes were beautiful, more green than hazel today. Surrounded by a halo of copper-verdigris, his irises churned hypnotically, blue motes coming up from their depths, hinting at other verdant shades. She’d never seen anything like them.
Never felt anything like this.
Her breathing grew ragged and his stuttered with hers. “That’s it, get my dick wet. Fuck, come with me, Kara—” He cried out beneath her, her body shuddering around his bucking deep inside. She collapsed onto his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin, wanting to lick it off him. What was that about? No way was it the bond’s compulsion. Did her bind do this? That would explain why Talents died when it was broken. She never wanted it to end.
“Do you feel me, the way I feel you?” he rumbled into her hair. She nodded. Every touch reflected back to her, intensified tenfold. “When we get north, I’m keeping you in my bed for a week.” He kissed her temple, running his hands over her .
Kara was more than fine with that. Smiling, she nipped at his throat.
A massive wave of primal carnality washed out from him, threatening to drown her.
She gasped, his hand tightening in her hair, jerking her head up. Flynn’s gaze locked with hers, that dangerous thing inside him looking out.
Her breath stilled, transfixed like prey.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was gone…as if a door had been shut tight. Loosening his grip, he very firmly moved her back to her seat.
Kara pulled her jeans back on, shaken. What was that? The wave of shame following it had been as intense as his desire. That dangerous thing… She licked her lips, tasting it on them as vividly as she had that stupid bar earlier.
What would happen if he just let go?
Flynn buckled his jeans and moved his seat back into position. He grabbed another one of those wretched bars. At least this one was green. Giving a big sigh, he tore it open and took a bite. She raised an eyebrow. One of them was an entire meal supplement.
“What? I eat when I’m nervous.” He rubbed a hand over his face. She could feel his emotions churning, and his overshadowing reluctance when he started the car back up.
They drove for maybe a mile, then pulled off the interway and into a derelict shopping complex. Flynn swore before they’d cleared the gate. His dread washed over her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fucking Omar…never mind. It’s nothing you gotta worry about.”
“Now who’s full of crap?”
Flynn shot her a dirty look, following faint tire marks in the ice toward a foreboding cement building. Shells of cars were scattered throughout the barren expanse surrounding it and there were hints of movement at its fringes.
“Damn, they’re sloppy.”
“Omar?”
“His guys. Christ, my head’s up my ass. I should’ve fucking figured on them staking out the garage after they caught Chibbs trying to snag this ride. Goddamn it.” He chewed at his lip, maintaining speed. “I gotta take you in. I set a heavier cloak on you this far out, the vectors’ll pick up a void. Omar’s crew finding you would be worse, not that Mick’s a fucking peach.”
“Why are they here?”
“To get something of theirs.”
“Common theme.”
He snorted, driving around the building, his halos fading to nothing by the time a gap in the wall loomed ahead. He flashed the headlights twice. Somebody yelled, and a crack of gunfire cut it short. A moment later it was volleyed back, and a plume of concrete dust puffed off the face of the multi-tiered structure. She gasped, her heart racing. Flynn grimaced, but didn’t look particularly put-off by it. What was he wrapped up in?
He pulled down into the gloom. The sides of the structure had once been open but weren’t any more: the gaps were stopped up by chain-link, plywood, cinderblocks… It had the feel of an armed encampment, and wasn’t someplace she wanted to hang out. Neither did Flynn. He parked between a support pillar and a truck up on blocks, then, taking a deep breath, he cut the engine.
“Just let me talk. Mick’s more dangerous than he looks. If I tell you to run, you run. If we get separated, there’s a culvert about six feet past the northwest corner of the garage. Drop down and follow it. It spits you out onto 48, which parallels the interway for the next five miles. A car’s waiting for us by the old theater. I will find you.” He kissed her and the desperation in it made Kara’s heart ache. What could scare him so badly?
“Hopefully this’ll be quick,” he said without much conviction. She followed him out of the car. Other vehicles dotted the concrete vault like sarcophagi. Kara shivered, her footsteps a quick pattering echo beside his long stride. Another volley of gunfire sounded. He moved toward the ramp at the back, breath clouding behind him. The seat of her jeans was like ice. They’d barely passed the first row of supports when a mocking voice rang out .
“Hey there, Flynn, why you in such a hurry? It’s been how long, and you can’t even say hi? I’m crushed. You know, that really hurts.”
Flynn froze, then dropped his head to his chest. He turned slowly, an odd look on his face. She couldn’t read him.
“Leo. When’d you get back?”
A thin man walked up to them wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt under an enormous puffy coat. His chin-length dark hair was slicked back and held in place by a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. He shrugged and took a bite of an apple. His teeth were large for his mouth and very straight.
“I’ve been around. You been gone a long time.” His perfect eyebrows rose as he got a better look at Flynn. “Holy shit, man. Who fixed your face?”
Flynn’s eyes flicked to Kara. Leo gave her an appraising glance. He kicked at a car’s bumper with his tennis shoe. It was whiter than anything she’d seen since leaving the Source. Neither one of them paid any attention to the escalating gunfire.
“Boss knows you’re here. New security system, video, no sound.” He made a point of looking back over his shoulder without turning his head. “You want, I’ll stay here and keep your girl warm.” A massive boom came from outside, and she gasped, pushing herself beneath Flynn’s arm. Leo laughed. “Don’t worry about those clowns out there, baby. Boys up top got ’em pinned.”
“My name is Kara.”
He smiled and took another bite of his apple, chewing far too loudly as he leered at her. Flynn stiffened, but she felt him actually considering the offer. What the heck?
“She stays with me. Graham here too?”
“Not my funeral. Tracy’s down there.”
Flynn groaned, putting his hand to his temples.
Tracy?
Leo nodded in sympathy and started eating the core. Who does that? Shrugging at Kara’s expression, he spat the pips out to the side.
“What? It’s the best part,” he said, keeping his eyes on Flynn. He was a mass of emotions she couldn’t even begin to sort out. The prevailing one was fear. He was afraid of a woman ?
“Kara, I… Shit.” Flynn ran a hand across his mouth. “You gotta stay here.” Leo nodded like he’d expected that response. “You’ll keep her out of sight?”
Glancing in the direction of the camera, Leo shrugged again.
“I swear I’ll treat her better than my own mother.” Flynn gave him a sharp look, and the man’s bravado cracked. “You know how it is…”
Flynn put a hand on her shoulder. “Kara, this is my father’s brother’s son. My cousin, Arileo.” His voice had taken on a strange formal timbre.
Leo’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
“No fucking way!” He gasped, bending over double and laughing. “Ah! They’re gonna have a shit fit…” He stood, smothering another laugh, and offered his hand to Kara with a bow and flourish. She looked between the two of them. Flynn was related to this ratty little man? She extended her hand, and Leo kissed it with way more gusto than was proper.
Flynn cleared his throat. Leo might be his cousin, but he didn’t like him. Neither did she. Leo put his hands up and backed away, grinning ear to ear.
“He’d sell his own mother to get a leg up.” Flynn growled, glaring at him. “Watch yourself.”
Leo winced but didn’t comment. Flynn stalked down the ramp into the bowels of the garage and disappeared. It suddenly seemed a lot colder. Kara crossed her arms, rubbing at them. She turned back to Leo. He’d leaned up against a car and gained a decidedly predatory cast to his features.
“So, Kara, is it? How long you been runnin’ with Flynn?”
Titus stood at the lab console, dividing his attention between the ratios on its plaz screen and the Breaker strapped to the gurney. More transcutaneous nodes would be required next time. Upping the cerebral stimulation was barely keeping the level of bloodlust within parameters. Frustrating, but not displeasing. Beritram’s ability to rapidly adapt to stressors and develop a tolerance was in large part what made him Alpha Breaker.
Titus made an adjustment to the simulation Beritram was experiencing. The man strained against his bonds, veins cording against the titanium restraints. The one encircling the seven-and-a-half-foot behemoth’s left wrist would have to be replaced, the metal bulging. Almost there. An indicator flashed. Titus made an entry, injecting the man with suppressant and ending the simulation.
He collected the vial of thick ochre vapor, trading it for the one currently loaded into his epidermal dispersion system. The lab’s inability to replicate the unique pheromone responsible for a Breaker’s bloodlust and its exceedingly brief shelf-life had been the inherited dilemma of every Merkel since the Surge. Centuries later, Titus was no exception, however it was a necessary inconvenience. Syphoning off the fickle chemical granted him complete dominion over his line of demigods.
His eyes swept over Beritram, the culmination of centuries of breeding. Physically superior in every way, no other mortal came close to his prowess or beauty. Lab techs entered to wheel out the heavily sedated man. It was a pity his sanity was an entirely different matter. They had Nora Jester to thank for that, and Titus was sure she’d played a part in this latest kerfuffle. Albanach’s concubine needed to be brought to heel, as did the man himself. Titus scowled, making his way through the sterile halls, back to his chambers. His dinner guest would be waiting.
As expected, Salist was already lounging within Titus’s private sanctum. Its design was heavily influenced by what had been known as modern impressionism eons ago. This room was set to evoke “Peaches” by Monet. Rounded lines, oranges, and umbers… Titus took a moment to appreciate the contrast of the man’s complexion against the couch’s butter yellow suede. Not a simple shade of brown, Salist was a hue that evoked the eternity of space, and his voice as devoid of warmth.
“I hear you’ve a problem.”
Motioning for a drink, Titus snorted as he sat. “If you’re referring to the Jester girl’s exodus, then yes. I have a call in to Albanach to discuss our options, but the damn recluse’s on another sabbatical.”
“For health reasons, no doubt.”
Titus’s mouth soured. Albanach was older than the rest of the board put together and would outlive them all. Several subs came in and began laying out a light meal on the low table between them. Salist perused the spread, plucking up a pickled duck egg. Titus had never understood the man’s affinity for the magenta-edged delicacies, but enjoyed watching him partake.
Nibbling on it, Salist gave an approving murmur. “You must know the others are up in arms over the security breech. Profits have been slipping for far too long. Everyone’s looking at our bottom line. We can’t abide losing a fertile bitch of the Jester girl’s ability, especially with her genetic predisposition for multiples.”
“I’m aware and stand by my argument that we need an infusion of new blood.” Titus took his drink from a sub’s tray. It was a familiar argument and would come to the same conclusion. Agreeing to disagree, publicly at least. Privately, other plans were in motion.
Brushing off his hands, Salist picked up his flute of kir and broke the script. “What I’d be curious to know is why Albanach isn’t up here in a fury.”
“Health reasons, no doubt,” Titus quipped, but the man had a point.
Salist picked at the side of an ivory canine with a tapered nail. “Funny, the old dragon’s health didn’t stop him from ruining Dionis. I found that whole affair to be quite shocking, and over what? The death of some sub?—”
“Albanach’s not someone to be trifled with, regardless of his health, but you’re right, his ambivalence over this is extremely suspect.” Titus watched the man choose a ramekin of brandade and dandle it with a spoon, remembering the unparalleled fury the female’s death had elicited in the old miser. His swift retribution had destroyed Dionis’s entire family, swallowing up the Patron’s assets with a ruthless efficiency that’d unnerved more than Salist. Titus was not surprised, having once been on the receiving end of Albanach’s ire.
“It begs the question, what this really about, Albanach, or the girl? ”
Titus took a sip, considering. “What if I told you it was neither?” He turned from Salist’s crinkled brow, making an entry on a tablet. A dozen holos of Kara Jester sprang up over the table. Nothing lurid. Pity that.
“My. He does know how to breed them, doesn’t he? She’s superb,” the dark man remarked around his spoon. He paused, squinting at a headshot. “Those halos, is she flawed or a twist?”
“Flawed, though either would account for her timidity. You know how Talents ostracize anyone deemed impure. Shortsighted of them in my opinion, but they are odd creatures. She’s an interesting case study. Beritram’s offspring on the whole usually exceed projections, and her metrics surpass even his, but nothing’s ever manifested.” He popped an olive into his mouth.
“Disappointing,” Salist drawled.
“Yes, but of no real concern, she carries his genes, and then there’s this to consider.” He threw up a holo of the vector findings from the surge Riegel had investigated, watching Salist’s reaction from behind his bourbon.
The dark man leaned forward, the spoon landing in his brandade like a dart.
“A Shade’s come south.”
“Not only have they come south, they’ve bonded the girl. From the magnitude of the surge and the corresponding void, we’re dealing with a scion of an Original House.”
“A Shade…” Salist had fallen back against the cushions, the corners of his mouth gone chalky. He licked at them, hungry.
A smile slid across Titus’s face. Excellent. “Now, whether their meeting was kismet, or orchestrated I can’t say. However, it would be foolish to ignore the possibility that someone from the North?—”
Salist snorted, the supposition snapping him out of his shock. “Any excuse to justify an incursion. You’d have the international community bankrupt us with your war!”
Back to the script.
Titus opened his mouth to rebut, and Salist held up a long-fingered hand, smoothing away the irritation on his face with the other. He stood, aubergine robes sliding down his lean frame. “Discussing this again will sour what otherwise has been a fine interlude. I’ll take my leave, but keep me informed. I’m assuming the rest of the board is unaware of this development?”
Titus pursed his lips. “I’ve redacted data.”
“As soon as a Finder attempts to locate her?—”
“I’m not concerned. The only thing Kasham’s current stock is adept at finding are g-spots. Any Finder with a range farther than a sneeze has been contracted out, and it would take an Act of God for her to recall any of them.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game. Keeping this from Albanach… He won’t let you walk away again.”
“Then I had best win this time.”
Shaking his head, Salist swept from the room, his robes a tempest about his legs. Titus tapped the side of his glass. The prospect of an opponent guiding events in the South as much as he’d been influencing them in the North was an intriguing one that appealed to him enormously. Could Riegel have been onto something when he opined that someone had spirited the girl away? Titus swallowed the last of his drink, then sent a message to one of his operatives Outside. No doubt this was an opportunity that would interest him.