Chapter 10
Duality [ doo- al -i-tee ] noun
Talents of opposing natures; Breaker / Binder, Fixer / Fetch. Of note: Xanthium was created specifically to overcome the difficulties in breeding these pairings. Without exception, they find each other intolerable.
Offspring from breeding opposing lines, most often resulting in a cull.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“Purposeful breeding between the lines has done little other than dilute talent. The offspring created often have far less ability than their progenitors, except in the rare cases of a successful mating between dualities. Meanwhile, the city in the North is rife with talent. We’re missing something crucial, though I can’t postulate as to what it could be…”
– L. Merkel, Head Geneticist,
The Source
Flynn mussed his hair, his footsteps echoing down the ramp like a bell tolling just for him.
“Fuck my life,” he muttered, steeling himself as he rounded the final murky curve before it spilled out into the next level. His anxiety faded into a numb kind of dread. This wasn’t gonna go well. Shit, it was gonna go worse than bad, and Kara?—
Leo knew they’d bonded. He’d keep her safe. Graham would make him. What that asshole lacked in scruples, his brother had in spades. Flynn’s fists tightened. Christ, it felt wrong leaving her with them, and for what, a stupid fucking cuff…
His feet rooted, and he took a deep breath, his hand gripping his wrist. It still felt naked without that damned piece of heraldry copper sitting there. He didn’t deserve it, and nobody gave a shit but him. Goddamn it, he just needed the fucking thing back. Gritting his teeth, he stepped from the shadows.
Garage eight had prospered since his last visit. Plaz lights and heat lamps were strung up among the trusses, and the bays were full. Jesus, a couple classic cars with decent paint jobs were up on lifts. At least two dozen mechs hustled the floor. The Fuil elders must be fucking tickled with Mick. Bet it had to do with Leo coming back. He’d always had more balls than sense, even as a kid.
Flynn sulked across the cement vault, hunching his shoulders, hands wrist-deep in his pockets. A runner disappeared down the ramp at the far end. Flynn’s steps faltered, remembering the last time he’d been down there. No way he was doing that again. It was better here, in the open.
He didn’t have long to wait. A low rumble echoed up from below, and the mechs found other places to be. By the time lights hit the side of the ramp, Flynn was standing alone in the center of the deserted level, sweating.
A golf cart came into view.
The enormously fat man driving it stopped several feet in front of him. Mick’s eyes held less emotion than poor Nells’s dead-frosted gaze. Tracy sat next to him. Beautiful, in a venomous serpent kind of way. She stretched out a long pale limb, inspecting her manicure. It was flawless. Like everything else about her. Well, except her soul .
Flynn ran a hand through his hair. It only shook a little bit. “Car’s up top with that plaz-converter you forgot to mention. I’m done, onus satisfied. I want my cuff, like we agreed.”
The fat man pursed his Vaselined Vienna sausage lips. “I don’t appreciate Omar’s people lurking about, and you’re late, looking much better than you should, I might add.”
Flynn shrugged, rocking back on his heels, trying to downplay all of it. He pulled out the envelope, fat with cash, and tossed it to him.
“I’m only late because we had a foot of ice dumped on us, and Chibbs must’ve spilled to Omar before his guts did. That ain’t on me, I got in and out clean. Car’s up top, and the cash should more than make up for any inconvenience.”
Mick flipped through the units and glanced at Tracy. She shook out her white-blond bob, smoldering at Flynn through her lashes with amber-ice eyes. Yep, she was still pissed. He kept his attention on Mick, and she smiled like he’d given her monogramed brass knuckles. Bitch probably needed a spare set.
“I think we should hurt him again, Micky.” She purred into her brother’s ear. “He’s not even limping a little. All that effort we took workin’ him over…”
Mick threw the envelope back at him. Fuck. Flynn let it fall, watching the fat man tap the dash of the cart with his cane. It was made of black iron pipe, and Flynn had no desire to become reacquainted with it.
Tracy licked her poppy-stained lips, following his gaze. His stomach dropped, seeing how this was gonna play out. He’d get his cuff, but she wanted him to bleed for it. Goddamn it, why the hell did she have to be here? Mick would’ve just taken the fucking money?—
Flynn closed his eyes, resigned to what was about to happen. Penance. They wouldn’t kill him, but they were gonna make him hurt. Looking down at his unmarred knuckles, a big part of him was relieved. He could feel Kara above, frantic, and he clamped down on their link. His cousins would shift her out when the screaming started.
Tracy tapped her lips with a finger. “You know Micky, he’s awfully pretty now. Too pretty to be a sub.”
Flynn didn’t bat an eye. Good luck trying to prove it .
As if responding to his challenge, she rose from her seat and sauntered over. Her black leather pants looked painted on. He went slick with sweat, remembering the last time he’d been in a room with her. Pressing up against him, she twined her arms around his neck. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away. Admit it, baby, you know you’re mine.”
The fuck he was, but knew better than to open his mouth. Her lips moued at his lack of response. She inhaled sharply, the stiletto she kept strapped to her hip digging into him.
“I can smell that little brunette upstairs all over you. I bet you fucked her right before you got here just to make me jealous. Tell me, baby, does she know what really gets you off? Maybe we should spend some girl time together. I can tell her how you like it…” She winked at him and pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, looking for her brand. Her eyes flashed at the smooth expanse.
And her knee cracked him solidly in the nuts.
Flynn had a millisecond to look at her incredulously before the pain dropped him to the floor. He curled up, unable to breathe. His block on the bond slipped, and he gagged on the wave of dank fury surging from Kara.
Tracy laughed, crouching over him. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, her fingertip tracing the outline of his jaw. Flynn gasped for air, his stomach clenching. Fuck, he was gonna puke. Tracy pursed her lips, squeezing his cheeks together, her nails digging into his flesh.
“You’re not going anywhere, Flynn, and now that you’re all pretty, I want to see what you look like without this fuzz.” She pulled her stiletto and scraped at his face with it. He grimaced as it rasped across his jaw, taking skin. After a dozen strokes of her blade, she smiled. “No, you’re no sub, and I know what that cuff means.”
But she didn’t know who he was…yet.
He held her gaze, trying to breathe normally, one stiff breeze from being totally fucked.
“I told you, we’re not over until I say we are,” she crooned in a high-pitched, baby-like voice. “I think you need to watch what happens when you don’t listen.”
A scuffing noise behind him drew her attention. Her smile widened, and he closed his eyes, knowing that bastard Leo was there with Kara. Christ, he should’ve known better than to trust him. He rode the anger bubbling up. It was still a fucking Act of God to roll onto his knees. Flynn retched, pain drowning out his will. Kara was gonna get hurt, and all he could do was suck wind.
“Flynn!” Her voice caught, and Leo said something to her, holding her back.
“Aww, look at the poor baby, Micky. He knows he’s been a bad boy. So sad.” Tracy laughed, backhanding him. The stones on her rings left bloody gashes across Flynn’s bare cheek. “Not sad enough. You want me to tell you what I want, baby? I want you to eat my cunt while Mick fucks her.”
Flynn sprawled to the side, dizzy at the intensity of the black rage pouring off Kara. Groaning, his gut clenched as he clambered to his knees, hunched in pain. That darkness in her kept getting worse.
“Keep your hands off him!”
Tracy snorted, dismissing her without a glance. Instead, she watched Mick lick his blubbery lips, leering at Kara. He reached up to the roof support of the cart, heaving himself out. The floorboards rocked and raised a good six inches. He straightened his jacket and walked toward them, moving much more fluidly than a man of his bulk had any right to. The base of the pipe cane rang on the concrete with each step, echoing through the garage. Mick let it drag for the last few feet between them, the vault reverberating with its leaden rasp when he stopped. He clasped Flynn’s shoulder, not taking his gaze from Kara. Her face was a careful blank, at odds with the mass of fury inside her.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” the fat man said.
Tracy’s fingers tightened in Flynn’s hair, and pulled, ripping his head back. Her wicked stiletto flashed out again, and she ran it up under his chin, shearing off another chunk of his beard and a sliver of flesh. He closed his eyes at the overwhelming sense of menace from Kara. That strange perfume was in the air again, and he groaned, his nuts throbbing. Tears stung his abraded cheeks.
“Ah, ah, lover boy,” Tracy said sing-song, licking up a line of them. “ You don’t want to miss the show. It’ll be just like old times…” She pulled back, tracing his jawline with her blade.
And screamed.
She crumpled to the floor, her stiletto slicing across Flynn’s neck. He put a hand to his throat, hot blood pulsing through his fingers. A calm settled over him, knowing the wound for what it was. Dazed, he stared at Tracy. She raised her face, shrieking.
Kara’s knife was imbedded in her eye socket.
The front of Flynn’s shirt bloomed into scarlet bib. Leo was nowhere to be seen. Mick reached for Kara, and she snaked out a hand, slapping it against his head. The fat man froze, transfixed.
What…? Flynn sank back onto his haunches, gripping his throat, beset by a sense of loss watching her. Christ, he’d prayed so long for someone to put him out of his misery and now he didn’t want to go. A manic sob blurped past his fingers.
Tracy staggered into view. She tore the knife from her skull and fell forward, clutching at it. Blood and gore spattered across the concrete.
“You fucking bitch!” She struggled to her feet. “Why are you fucking around, Mick? She took out my goddamn eye!”
Her brother shook his head as if waking from a dream and turned to her. “You’re right, I have things to do. Flynn can leave with the girl. I’ll just fetch that trinket so they can be on their way.”
Tracy’s jaw dropped.
Mick walked past them. “We’re done here, your onus satisfied.” Oblivious, he waved Flynn away, climbing back to his cart.
“Like hell it is,” Tracy snarled through gritted teeth, lunging at Kara. Blackness roiled from her in response. Tracy jerked once and went limp, puddling on the floor. Flynn’s vision greyed out at the edges, eating inwards. His breath caught.
Kara was so fucking beautiful.
An aching sorrow filled him, his fingers sliding from his throat and hitting the concrete with a dull slap.
The rest of him followed, Kara’s panic a fleeting thing. He drifted up and out, the grey darkening, everything falling away.
A golden glow flickered at the edges of his consciousness .
It drew the pieces of him together, calling him back. He felt Kara pushing everything she had at him, strength, energy, emotion… They streamed to him along the shimmering thread of light connecting them. It flowed into him, suffusing him with warmth. When had it gotten cold?
A jolt rocked through him. He was sprawled over hard concrete. Her hands were on him. A subtle questing pressure against his skin.
The glow strengthened, and he was flooded with vitality.
His lungs filled and his eyes went wide, the grey scattering from its onslaught. Flynn’s back arched, his head pressing into Kara’s lap. Her brow furrowed in concentration, halos blazing, creating a nimbus of power around them. Talent swirled through the air, lifting the ends of her hair as it swept by, laden with a gilded scarlet mist. It settled over him, sinking into his flesh. The slick of blood soaking his shirt reversed, streaming back into him, the slice across his throat knitting together in its wake.
Kara’s halos flickered, her satisfied exhaustion saturating their bond.
He reached up, touching her cheek with a shaking hand.
What the fuck just happened?
Her cheek dimpled, and her eyes rolled up into her head. Leo caught her as she slumped over. Where the hell had he come from?
Flynn stumbled, trying to stand. He was weaker than a kitten and his nuts throbbed, but they had to get the hell out of here. Leo held Kara with wild eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.
His mirror image popped into view.
“We need to go,” Graham said, steadying Flynn. “That surge was way too big for me to cloak.”
Leo nodded dumbly. Together, their halos flared and colors ran.
“Sir, there’s been another surge.”
The Commandant pushed away the reports he’d been going over, happy to transfer his attention to the spry man power-walking into his office. This build-up on the border was becoming a nightmare. Some idiot had actually fired on the North’s troops. The paperwork involved in documenting the incident was enormous. He pushed aside the piles overrunning a good half of his battered desk to grab his coffee.
“Which precinct?”
“Q17.” Woods crossed the carpet to the holo on the wall, the spartan room’s only adornment. Calling up a square, he enlarged it, centering on an abandoned structure.
“Is this all the visual intel we have?”
“As of now, yes, sir. The deadtown…” Woods quickly scanned his tablet. “… Greyburn, hasn’t been integrated into our system, but the vector picked up a massive pull. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Woods threw up a holo of a shifting graph.
“What am I looking at?” There was some kind of feedback over the signal.
Woods scratched his head. “I’m not sure, sir. I ran the algorithms twice, but it came back the same.”
“Has anyone else accessed this report yet?”
“No, sir, and I’ve scrubbed the data. The vector’s programming must’ve made some kind of error. It’s not uncommon when they’re shifted out of stasis.”
The Commandant nodded. Woods knew his business. “Anything else?”
The man flicked through several screens on his tablet before throwing up a fuzzy image. Marcos could just make out a rusted vehicle leaving the area. No way to tell if it was related or not.
“Unfortunately, sir, the vector is an early model. My decision to scrub the data factored in its condition. Optics are extremely poor. If I may make a suggestion, we may want to requisition a different unit.”
The Commandant leaned back, chair squeaking, and considered the recommendation. They’d only be able to move the vector once more before running up against the border. He glanced at the latest briefing from legal. That in itself was going to be an issue, the Northern Territories were already having a fit about the nullified curtains going up. Some codswallop about insects and migratory species…
Marcos rubbed his temple, focusing on the matter at hand. He wasn’t sure what that large surge was, but had a strong suspicion it wasn’t a computing error. Underneath all that feedback, it bore an uncanny resemblance to the unsanctioned rejuvenation in Albanach’s tower a few weeks ago.
“Start the paperwork, but don’t make it a priority. I trust boots on the ground more than space-metrics. Call up Delta Squad and get a craft out there. If BrNC37 asks why he was benched, tell him that after debriefing I’m not convinced he can remain objective.”
“Should I include a requisition for a pack?”
Marcos pursed his lips, not wanting to think of those mechanized beasts cornering Kara. “Hold off for now.”
Woods saluted and left. Marcos finished his coffee and stared at the grounds littering the bottom of his mug. He had to get through these damn reports, but then he needed to know about that rejuvenation. His eyes closed, Nora’s image still emblazoned behind his lids from earlier.
Laurellai was going to be furious.
Flynn stood in a windowless bunker lit by flickering plaz lights. Everything in it looked like it’d been stolen from an office supply store.
Not an unreasonable assumption, considering.
Leo dropped Kara onto the couch, then collapsed into a chair. “The fuck, Flynn?”
He stared down at his shirt. The collar had been sliced clean through but the fabric was spotless, and the skin beneath unblemished. He swallowed, that feel of being zipped back up… What the hell had just happened?
“We need to get his cuff.”
“Hey, Graham.” What had he married? Kara said she had other skills…
“Hey, Flynn,” Graham said in his dry monotone. “You’re gonna have to shave.”
Leo stood and started pacing. “You stash anything?”
Flynn couldn’t take his eyes off Kara. He ran a trembling hand over his jaw. “Ah, yeah. Trunk of that junker I drove in.”
Leo nodded, and they were gone.
She looked so innocent .
Kara cracked an eye, and her brow creased, anxiety crackling through their bond. “I freaked you out.”
Flynn hand ghosted to his throat. “I was dead.”
“Not quite.”
He couldn’t even begin to come to grips with that, or the heaviness that had settled into his chest. He knew it, and wasn’t… Flynn turned away, the motion making him stagger. He dropped to the concrete floor, leaning against the couch. It was too damn much. His head tipped back, and she reached over, her fingers trailing over his mangled beard. Must look like he had fucking mange.
“It’ll grow back,” he murmured, eyes closing. Kara’s arm settled across his chest, and he held it, her breath on his ear…
“You were serious.”
Flynn’s eyes sprang open. Christ, he must’ve fallen asleep. Leo stood in front of him with a mound of everything from the car, that goddamned plaz-converter on top. The urge to pulverize the fucking thing was overwhelming.
Graham held out a beaten-up copper cuff.
Flynn’s stomach dropped like a bolder down a well shaft, choking down what threatened to splash up. He took the cuff with an air of reverence, rolling it over in shaking hands.
Out of options he never really had.
That heaviness increased. Goddamn it. He looked heavenward.
This what you want?
There wasn’t an answer. Never fucking was.
Sighing, he slid the cuff onto his right wrist.
Leo made a noise like he’d been punched. “You’re challenging?”
“There a shower?” Flynn didn’t want to get into it. Not now, and not with fucking Leo.
His cousin sourly slapped a panel on the wall. A door slid open, revealing a modern, post-Surge bathroom. Flynn stood and grabbed his duffel, going in to take full advantage.
A decon-stall wasn’t the same as a hot shower, but it got the stink off. He grabbed the straight razor, staring at it for a long time before turning on the tap and shaving. He cut himself a bunch, and it felt good .
His father was in the mirror when he finished.
Flynn fingered the blade, his eyes hot. He flipped it into the sink and dragged his sorry ass into the other room to sit at the table with the brothers. Kara was out cold. Graham slid a beer in front of him. He pushed it back across the bruise-colored Formica. “I don’t drink.”
Leo laughed and grabbed it. Twisting off the cap, he took a long pull, meeting Flynn’s eyes as he did. Flynn shrugged, too wrung out for a fight. Graham kicked his brother under the table and tossed Flynn a bottle of water.
“Jesus Christ, you look like Lot.”
Fucking Leo. Flynn ran a hand over his bare chin. He hadn’t even been able to save a pornstache. “You got a cigar?”
His cousin snorted. “You’re not smoking in my bunker.” Asshole.
“How much do you remember?” Graham asked in his odd hollow voice, stemming whatever else Leo was gonna say to piss him off.
“Enough.” Flynn gingerly adjusted himself and took a long swallow of water.
“I don’t know why you just didn’t shove that pipe up Mick’s ass and knock her the fuck out. Shit Flynn, we’ve seen you take on?—”
“I’m done with all that, and I don’t hit women.”
“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t fucking her at the time. I forgot there was a line. I would’ve made an exception if she kneed me—Oh, hold up, you get off on that shit too, don’t you?” Flynn’s temper jumped, and Leo smirked, knowing he’d hit a nerve. He finished his beer, pushing the empty bottle to the center of the table.
“I’ve never seen that much talent pulled in my entire life,” Graham said, handing his brother another. He’d barely touched his own.
Leo spun it in his hands, picking at the label. “No shit. The binds she used…fuck man, the energy… I didn’t even know that was possible.” He glanced over at the couch, taking a heavy pull off his beer, bubbles rising as the level dropped. Slamming it onto the table, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “She bound your blood back into your body. How does that even work?”
Flynn twisted at the cuff on his wrist. “She’s a Jester. The rest of it…” He shook his head. They didn’t need to know the rest. Binder and fucking Breaker. What had he gotten himself into ?
The brothers blanched, a look passing between them. He didn’t blame them. They knew what that name meant. His eyes went to Kara on the couch, dead to the world, her face inelegantly smooshed against a pillow, drooling. A smile tipped up his lips. Goddamn, she was adorable. He rubbed his chest, feeling that weight again.
Leo got up and rummaged through a cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and three shot glasses. He filled them, passed one to Graham then raised the other, along with his eyebrows, at Flynn.
That was the last thing he needed. He shook his head, missing the coop. Two out of three. Goddamn it.
“This reeks of Cal.” Leo smacked his lips. “How the hell did you end up bonded?”
“How the hell do you think? I fucked her, and of course it’s Cal. I suppose you’ve gotta admire his skill, pushing through his fucking agenda twelve years after the fact and from a thousand miles away. He got what he wanted, and now there’s nothing left to do but get up there.” Frowning, Flynn spun a bottle cap between his fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear a bow when I see him.”
“You are,” Leo said, looking at the cuff. “Sorry, man. Better you than us.”
Flynn watched his cousin shoot back a second shot. He should just drink from the goddamned bottle. The smaller man kept staring at Kara. What the hell was his problem? A growl crept up Flynn’s throat. Snorting, Leo brought his attention back to them.
“You know, you bitch about it, but it doesn’t seem too bad from where I’m sitting. You always did manage to get the hot ones into bed.”
“And the not so hot ones,” Graham added.
They laughed, and Flynn cracked a smile. They weren’t wrong, but damn that was a lifetime ago, before he lost his shit. He went to run a hand over his beard and scratched his jaw instead, missing it.
Leo snorted. “Suck it up. You look a lot better than the last time we saw you, even if you did shave with a weedwhacker.”
Flynn grunted, his face hadn’t been this bare since he was sixteen. He fingering the bridge of his nose. It hadn’t been straight since then, either. Christ, he hated it. “So, what’s the word up north? ”
The brothers exchanged glances. Shit.
“Fixers have picked up that reunification torch your mom used to wave, but instead of being all kumbaya about it, they’re calling for a full-blown assault on the Source. Real ‘let my people go’ bullshit. They don’t get how brainwashed the Talents are down there.” Leo’s eyes flicked back to Kara. “Far as I know, they don’t have an in like your mom did, but it’s beyond saber rattling and, for whatever reason, not quite half of them are buying into it.”
“It’s Julia,” Graham said matter-of-factly. “She thinks the Source has you.” He got up and pressed another panel. A door to a kitchen slid open.
Flynn’s burst of anxiety was so bad Kara made a little noise, her brow furrowing. He tamped it down hard. There was no fucking way Julia Cree gave two shits about him after what he’d done to her.
“And Lot?” Flynn asked, his stomach cramping.
Leo snorted, pouring himself another. Flynn licked his lips. Damn, that looked good right about now—and was what had gotten him into this whole fucking mess. Well, part of it. He gingerly adjusted himself again.
“Lot’s Lot, seems hell bent on frittering away all the support your mom had. The line’s splintered into factions.” Flynn nodded and took a shaky sip of his water. “It’s been worse lately. Jacques can’t step up. He and Bea haven’t been able to conceive. Even if they did… Well, you know.”
“Come on.” The Martins bred like rabbits, and Bea was a Finder. They were like rabbits on steroids. He was surprised they didn’t have a whole mess of kids by now. Not all of them would be twists.
“It’s been six years.”
“That long,” Flynn mused, taking a steadier sip. He could fucking do this. One of them must be sterile. It happened more often now than it used to. It also effectively barred Jacques from taking First. Thanks to the Source, some asshole back in antiquity had decreed that if you couldn’t conceive a child via natural means, you weren’t fit to lead.
It was a stupid elitist rule, but most of the codes were.
Goddamn, he didn’t want to go back.
“Which leaves you First by default, especially if you knock her up and she breeds true,” he said, eyeing Kara again. “Must be nice having everything handed to you.”
Flynn glowered at him. He’d just spent the better part of a decade sleeping in the mud, and Leo was singing the same fucking—Christ, wasn’t worth it. “Yeah, it’s a real fucking treat getting stuck with all the shit nobody else wants to do.”
“‘Talent supersedes all else,’” Graham quoted from the kitchen.
“Then Cal should take it back.”
The brothers laughed. Guess that subject had already been broached. They probably hadn’t been able to find the asshole to pin him down. He should be so smart.
“That’s about as likely as Charles bonding a woman to take it. Which, believe me, has been suggested.” Leo laughed again, starting to roll his r’s. “S’not the craziest thing proposed. You remember Greg?”
“He was two years ahead of me, right?”
His cousin nodded. “Yeah, he ascended right after you left. Figured Lot could bond again and get another heir easily enough.” Flynn choked on his mouthful of water. “Thought that would solve our succession issue. I heard they needed four guys to pull Lot off him.”
Flynn was surprised his father hadn’t killed him. Not because he had any abounding love for his son, but for the insult to his mother’s memory.
Leo poured himself another, eyeing Flynn’s cuff over the rim. “You know, I gotta say…surprisingly, I’m glad you’re not dead. Graham wouldn’t have lasted long with that damn thing on his wrist. It’s gotten dangerous up there.”
“I heard that.” His brother walked back into the room with a tray of sandwiches. “I’m glad you’re not dead, too, Flynn. I’ve always liked you.”
“Gee, thanks.” His mouth watered as he snagged the roast beef one. Civilization had its perks, and refrigeration was pretty high on the list. Shit, so was real bread. Flat-tack sucked.
They ate in companionable silence. The two of them kept staring at him. Christ, getting used to that again was gonna suck, but he had to admit, it was a jarring change. Especially being clean-shaven. He hated it. Leo sat back after a while, wiping his hands on his pants .
“So, the border’s gotten dicey. The Source has nullifying curtains limiting where I can shift in. You remember Kris?”
Flynn did. She was a big, red-haired Finder they’d grown up with. Told bad jokes and hated her freckles.
“Maybe two months ago, she didn’t turn up after we shifted her over.” Leo cleared his throat. “Then Graham and I saw her during a run. She’d been bred.”
The food in Flynn’s mouth went pasty. He took a swallow of water, choking it down. He’d known about the build-up of troops, but this?—
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Her energy signature at that point was obvious.” Leo glanced at Kara, then threw back another shot, grimacing. “I don’t know how the fuck the Source got ahold of her, or the others. The Assembly’s response has been to crack down on who gets in and out of the Northern Territories. They put a moratorium on shifting a couple weeks back. You’re gonna have to drive and if they close the border, you, and anyone else still down here, is fucked.” Leo exchanged glances with his brother. “Check-ins at the station are also mandatory now, both ways. Everyone has to take the train in.”
Flynn felt like he was gonna be sick. Any chance of coming back under the radar had just been dashed. The brothers looked at him sympathetically. Even Leo.
Shit. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought. Flynn grit his teeth, wrestling with the desire to pull the cuff off his wrist and find a place to hide. He glanced at Kara, rubbing at the tarnished metal band. Preferably one with a big bed. Christ, he couldn’t run away from this. He had to get her north.
“I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
The brothers exchanged glances again.
“Right. I’ll work on getting you papers and a vehicle. I had to deliver everything at the garage to keep my cover.”
Everything but that plaz-converter. Flynn snorted. Leo was so full of shit. He was working some angle, and Flynn didn’t have the energy or inclination to try and figure out where his circus train of logic was headed. Graham would make sure they didn’t get thrown on the rails.
If he caught him in time .
“Cal said there was a car waiting for me at the theater in Greyburn.”
It was Leo’s turn to snort. “Wouldn’t hold my breath it’s still there. The elders put out a bounty on you both. It’s high enough I considered it. The precinct’s swarming with Fuil.”
Fuck. He was so done with all this. Flynn pushed his plate away, not willing to think about the shit storm he was leaving, or the one he was about to walk into. West. Why the fuck couldn’t he have just gone west? He stood, feeling more than a bit unsteady. He needed sleep.
The brothers shifted out. Flynn lay down behind Kara, wrapping her up in his arms. Something in him eased. It was weird. How much was him and how much was the bond? Did it matter? Flynn rubbed at his chest again. What he’d felt coming through it when she’d saved him… He buried his nose in her hair, the scent of her, goddamn…
‘She is our mate.’
He went rigid at the voice prowling in the back of his mind, clamping down on the animal hard. His arms tightened around her, eyes jumping to the bottle of vodka on the table. No. Not again. Today had just been too much, that’s all it was. Stress. Swallowing his fear along with the pooling saliva, he pulled up that blanket of calm he’d worked so hard on after Diytan and tried to sleep.
Pax motioned for the squad to hold. They’d landed a mile east of the structure and infiltrated through the woods, taking out a few dozen scabs haunting the perimeter. In a perfect world, he’d just nuke the roaches and have done. How they’d gotten access to regulated tech was a concern. Would’ve been more of one if they’d been competent. Now they were smears.
Data ran down the inside of his face shield, streaming from the drone hovering high above. No more unidentified heat signatures to play with.
Maintaining comm silence, he motioned his squad forward across the frozen ground, the lot providing plenty of cover. Someone had tried to play soldier with the defensive layout and given zero thought to its offensive potential. Typical. They took position behind the last of the derelict vehicles before approaching the parking garage. At least they’d gotten that right.
It’d been heavily fortified, with sniper nests on top. The drone showed faint residual heat signatures. They’d been sitting on eggs up there. He glanced at his data stream. Nine minutes ago. Just prior to the squad’s touchdown.
Birdies had been tipped off and forgot to tell the neighbors. Time to find out if they were still home. He cued Jones and the tek darted out and to the side, rolling a long cylinder through the ingress before taking cover and monitoring its progress. He made a quick entry on the plaz screen melded to his bracer. The sharp echo of breaking glass resonated through the structure, and the all-clear given. The squad rushed in, taking up positions along walls and behind Lally columns. Pax scanned the level.
Several vehicles, one up on blocks. Thermals said the one beside it had been driven recently. It’d also been tossed. Console was a mess of wires. No surge residue. He was going to bet the activity had gone down lower.
Ryker confirmed, jerking his head at the ramp in the back. Jones was up. Making some adjustments on his screen, the tek levitated the cylinder and sent it down. The squad held at the mouth of the tunnel.
Jones made an abrupt cutting motion.
Pax rolled his eyes. They could make a vector that could see hundreds of klicks in every direction, but they couldn’t manufacture a fucking scout unit that could go farther than a dozen feet from its operator underground. He hit his palm with a closed fist, then opened it with a rapid motion. The squad gave enthusiastic thumbs up. Everybody loved a good flash-bang.
On his signal, Jones released five orbs. They spun around each other, zipping down the ramp and out of sight. Then several brilliant flashes of light, and a deafening boom echoed throughout the subterranean vault. After a three count, the squad followed, rushing the level below.
Crickets.
Motherfucker. Pax sent some of the men to reconnoiter the bays set up along the sides of the garage, then split off two-thirds of the team to follow the next ramp down. He scanned the space. Scab chop-shop. A big one, well-outfitted.
Too well-outfitted for the empty bays.
Ryker paused at one spot, then another. His face was unreadable behind the dark face shielding. Jones jogged over with the scout unit in hand, his voice coming through comms.
“Abandoned, sir. There’re two more levels below this one. The lowest is flooded. One directly below someone’s been living in. Collins’s team is tossing it, but I don’t expect they’ll find much. Memory chip in the security system’s missing, and the buffer’s been wiped. I just pulled the updated data from the vector. It shows several major shifts to the southwest, all within the last forty-seven minutes. They end on a common trajectory outside of the system’s current range. I can triangulate the path with Ryker’s help, but it’s going to take time.”
Pax nodded as the man walked up. From the set of his shoulders, he was pissed.
“Both surges are definitely Binder work. The largest one’s a healing, but there’s another with something off about it. The residue’s decaying way faster than it should. I can’t get a good read on it.”
Fuck. “Finish tossing the lower level, and send a team up top. I want the structure rigged to raze.” If he had to come out here and freeze his balls off, somebody’s day was going to get ruined. The men gave quick salutes at Pax’s order and dispersed. “Comms. HQ. Br3 to Br2. Status Report.”
A screen sprang up on the inside of his face shield.
“Report, Br3,” the Commandant said, sifting through holos at his desk.
“Commandant, sir.” He gave a crisp salute. “We’ve secured the location. It’s an established scavenger operation, deserted. Per protocol, I’ve given the order for razing at the conclusion of our op. Of note, we met with resistance in possession of regulated tech. If I may make a recommendation?”
The Commandant nodded, only giving Pax half his attention. “Proceed. ”
“I’d extend that order to the surrounding deadtown, sir.”
“Granted. It’s due. I’ll remind you to target structures only, Br3. Resistance is fair game, but civilians walk.” He glanced up from his paperwork, waiting for acknowledgment.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Pax had no issues with the order. Habitation Outside violated code 47r, classifying them all as resistance.
“I’ll allow an hour for you to play bomb squad, then I want a reconnaissance camp set up. If the vector picks up another surge, it needs to trigger an immediate response. What else have you got for me?”
“Ryker’s confirmed Fetch and Binder activity on premises, culminating with several shifts to the southwest. The entire place’s been cleaned out, and the monitoring system’s been scrubbed, sir. They knew we were coming.”
The Commandant put his coffee down, giving him his full attention. “Have Jones triangulate those shifts. Sounds like we’re dealing with more than a couple of fugitives. Ryker give any more detail on the energy signatures?”
“No, it decayed too fast for him to get a good read.”
The Commandant grunted, retrieving his coffee. “You come across a whiff of anything related to these fugitives, I want to know about it before the scent’s past your nose. Dismissed.”
The orb blinked out, curtailing Pax’s salute. Titus must’ve pissed in the old man’s cornflakes. The Commandant wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but that’d been terse even for him. Pax put out the signal for the squad to regroup. After relaying orders, they jogged back up the ramp, intent on razing Greyburn along with as much resistance as they could flush out within the scope of an hour.
None of them picked up on the bot cloaked above the ramp’s mouth, transmitting.