Demon Bait: Children of the Undying, Book 1 (11 page)

The words should have cowed him. Shamed him. Instead they rang false. “You don’t know her,” Gabe replied stiffly. “She’s stronger than you think.” A chime sounded from Lorenzo’s pocket, and he spoke as he pulled his handheld free. “For her sake, I hope so.” He stabbed at a button. “Hailey?”

Her voice spilled free. “Marci wants to talk to Gabe before she settles in. Are you in the east vault?”

“We are. Are you close?”

“No. Send Gabe to my office. We’ll meet him there.”

“You’ve got it.” He disconnected the handheld. “Do I need to walk you?” At least they were letting him out of the damn vault. “No.”

“Watch the attitude,” Lorenzo advised, then keyed in the code to unlock the door and held it open for him.

The vaults were a good mile from Hailey’s spacious office in the basement of one of the old hotels.

Above ground it might have been a quick walk, but here below he was confined to the winding tunnels that connected the basements of dozens of abandoned buildings.

He knew Zel had dreams. Enhanced ADS would make the upper stories of the buildings safe to live in again, and adequate protection would allow them to move livestock out into the sun, to grow crops without hydroponics.

A good dream. Gabe had believed in it, had risked his life for it, going out into the world in search of trading partners and connections, anything Zel needed to make it work. One moment with Marci, and he’d thrown it all away.

It would be worth it. It
had
to be worth it.

When he reached Hailey’s office, he found Marci frowning at the small tank on one of the shelves lining the wall. She glanced up, then back at the tank. “She has goldfish.” Hailey had clearly vacated her office to give them privacy, but Gabe suspected she wouldn’t be far away. “Her husband gave them to her. I heard they cost him three months’ worth of credits, but they make her smile.”

“There aren’t any pets in Nicollet,” she said absently. “They’re a waste of strained resources, or something.” Marci walked over to the desk and leaned on the edge of it. “Did they give you a hard time?” He couldn’t tell whether she was angry or not. “Not as bad as it could have been.”

“That’s—” She wove her fingers together, clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Let me go, Gabe.”

“Marci.” His heart clenched. Shattered. He bit back the words that welled up, the ones that would cajole, convince.

The ones that would seduce.

Her decision. His burden. “All right.”

“You lied to me,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Not even that. You manipulated me from minute one, pointed me in the right direction so I would do what you wanted. And that’s
worse
than a lie.” Her eyes shone bright with tears, the same tears he could hear in her choked words. “You mostly used the truth. That’s the shittiest part.”

He wanted to protest, but in his gut, he knew. He’d assessed her from that first moment. He’d told her the truth—not because it was the right thing to do, but because some instinct, some magical fucking demon sense, had told him that this was a woman who could be wooed with the truth.

Just not all of it.

A lie wouldn’t salvage things. Maybe nothing would, but at least this time he could tell the truth because she deserved it, even if it painted him in a horrible light. “I did what I thought I had to do. First to keep you safe, then to give myself time. I was wrong.” She bowed her head, and a tear splashed on her sleeve. “How do you—” Her voice broke on a half-sob. “How do you do it? Take away your—your mark?”

He made it two steps toward her before he managed to stop himself. The right to hold and comfort her was no longer his. “Close your eyes and relax. It won’t hurt, I promise.” She laughed through her crying. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about, you know.” Another step, close enough to touch her, but she reached out instead. One hand rose, and her fingers curled around the edge of his vest. She pulled him down, closer, until his lips met hers.

He groaned. He couldn’t stop himself, not from reacting and not from curling a hand in her hair so he could kiss her, really kiss her. Swallow her taste and her sounds and tell himself it might not be the last time.

She broke away too soon, turned her face from his and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “What do I do?”

It was easy, and so, so hard. Such a simple task, but it was a fight to pull back into himself. If she was the ocean, he was fighting his way free, struggling against the pounding surf when all he wanted to do was return to the still safety of the deep.

In the end he had to do it a bit at a time, peeling his magic out of her aura in painful pieces, each cutting deeply through his self-control. She sat silently, her eyes squeezed shut and her body trembling.

When it was over, she slowly opened her eyes. “It’s done?”

“Yes.” His voice was as raw as his heart.

She didn’t say another word, just edged past him and hurried out the door, leaving him tired and alone in Hailey’s bright, welcoming office. Leaving him staring at her stupid goldfish, who swam in happy circles, unaware that their existence was proof that some halfbloods could get things right. Hailey’s husband was a warrior—an edgy, violent fighter—and he still fumbled his way through the small gestures that
meant
something.

Gabe had done everything wrong. Given Marci truth for the wrong reasons, given in to his need and his weakness and his helpless certainty that the spirit inside Marci’s fragile flesh was the indomitable partner that he’d craved. The woman who could wash away his edges and pain in quiet strength, could tame him.

He didn’t deserve her. He hadn’t earned the trust she’d offered, had abused it, and now he’d pay.

Whatever punishment Zel and Lorenzo had planned would be severe. Humiliating, no doubt, and likely public enough to make an example out of him. A halfblood didn’t break ranks in Rochester. To violate authority was to challenge it, and Zel was going to kick him into place hard enough to leave boot marks on his back.

None of it would hurt more than this moment, standing alone and aching and envious of a couple of fucking fish.

“It’s a matter of balance,” Marci told Trip as they circled the unmoving man standing in the middle of the room. “With some things, you can’t sacrifice quality. Faces, for one. It’s the most noticeable thing.”

“And the biggest resource hog,” Trip countered. “Faces were the last thing they got right back in the twenties. Even full articulation wasn’t as hard as organic expressions. Sure, they’ve tightened up some of the algorithms, but even the next-gen hacks eat memory like a bitch.”

“The eyes,” she whispered. If she closed hers, she could still picture Gabe’s, the clearest, most arresting blue she’d ever seen. She forced away the image and leaned closer to the frozen avatar she and Trip were studying. “You have to get the eyes right to capture nuance of expression, but that’s a relatively small percentage of the average face, right?”

“Usually.” Frowning, Trip circled the avatar to stand next to her. “Though Jai’s avatar is a bad example to work with. The man’s stone cold. If you get anything from his eyes, it’s because he wanted you to.”

Jai. Gabe’s friend, the one who’d stolen the chickens. Marci felt torn between laughing and crying, so she carefully focused on the blank brown depths of the avatar’s eyes. “No one is stone—” The eyes blinked.

Marci stumbled back, and barely managed to catch herself before falling. “Jesus Christ.” Jai’s lips twisted down, a frown closer to a scowl, but his eyes remained blank. Guarded. “Trip, what the fuck are you doing with my avatar?”

“He was helping me with something,” Marci interjected. “A project. I’m sorry.”

“You’re Marci.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m Jai.”

“One of Gabe’s friends,” Trip supplied, gaze flicking between them. “Marci’s helping me optimize avatars. Lighten some of the server load so we can expand the—”

“Uh-huh.” Jai was still watching her. “Have you seen the training hall?”

“Uh, no.” She’d seen her tiny apartment and Trip’s office, and that was about it. Hailey had dragged her to the dining area a few times, though she hadn’t really felt like eating.

Jai jerked his head in the direction of the far wall, where a row of portals could be programmed to connect to Rochester’s various virtual areas. “Want to go check it out?” She didn’t, not particularly, but she couldn’t think of a good way to say no—not to mention the tiny voice that whispered, wanted to know how Gabe was doing. “Okay.”

Trip pulled a small tablet from his pocket and typed something one-handed. “You’ve been working too long anyway. Go take a break, and don’t forget to drop out and eat.” One of the portals slid open onto a large, mirrored room with weapons and padded mats strewn about.

Marci followed Jai through the doorway, which vanished behind them.

It
looked
like the sort of place devoted to hand-to-hand combat. The bloody kind. “I guess they have places like this in Rochester too. Outside the network, I mean. Real places.”

“For the body,” he confirmed. “But there are different lessons you can learn in the network.”

“Sure.” They used the network for different things here than back in Nicollet. “In the city, it’s for recreation, more than anything—escape through the network because you have no place else to go, but you don’t want to be where you are.”

“I hated it at first.” He lifted a hand, rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck, where his chip must have been implanted. “Coming to this city was enough change. In the network, you can have quiet.” She’d had quiet. “It’s overrated. I think I’d rather have—”
Breathe, Marci.
She turned away, but the mirrors everywhere ensured that she was facing Jai, no matter what. “How’s Gabe?” He watched her reflection. “In hell. He’s been reassigned to farm duty for the rest of the month. Cleaning up after the animals that live in the lower levels.”

“That
does
suck.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I don’t think that’s why he’s in hell.”

“I know.” She’d never thought Gabe didn’t care. If anything, he’d cared too much, too fast, before he really knew her. “He doesn’t trust me.”

Instead of offering empty reassurances, Jai tilted his head. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he thought he needed to steer me around.” She turned to face him for real, to meet his gaze.

“I fell in love with him, and he was so busy trying to make sure I was starry-eyed and infatuated that I don’t think he noticed.”

“He’s stupid.” Jai moved toward the far wall, the one lined with dozens of weapons. “Halfbloods are stupid when they’re in love.”

“Sometimes I think maybe that’s the human condition.” Curiosity overwhelmed her. “What did he tell you about me?”

“That you’re in a strange place, and that he’s worried that you’ve spent so much time working to be invisible that you won’t try to make friends.” Jai turned abruptly and offered her a smile. “He didn’t send me, though. He likes you too much for that, and I’m not good with people.” Neither was she. “I don’t think I could avoid making friends. You people here in Rochester are pushy.”

“Most of us remember being new and scared. Gabe helped me. Figure someone should help you.”

“Yeah.” They were pushy, but their hearts were in the right place, which was a lesson most people could stand to learn.

Including her.

The water was cold. Salty. Waves crashed against him, battered him on their way to smash against the sand, and the undertow dragged at his legs, hungry to pull him out to sea.

The ocean, as perfect a recreation as Trip had been able to make for him, and now it was ruined.

Standing waist deep in the water, Gabe stared out at the endless horizon, unable to stir himself to start swimming. What had been a retreat, a place of solace, was now an open wound. The ocean reminded him of Marci, of how he’d wanted to bring her here, to this private slice of paradise. Swim with her in the water.

Make love to her on the beach.

Chimes sounded, echoed in a warning zip up his spine. Gabe sighed, closed his eyes and endured the teeth-grinding drop back into his body just in time to hear his door chime again.

Jai, probably, or Bran, come to drag him out of his moping. Or worse, it could be Lorenzo, ready to deliver a fresh punishment. Neither option seemed appealing.

The blind hope that it might be Marci was all that made him rise from his chair to open the door.

She stood on the other side, after all, too pale, with dark smudges of shadow under her eyes. “Hi.”

“Marci.” She looked exhausted. Miserable, and there was no satisfaction or triumph in the realization, just guilt and a gnawing need to chase away her pain. “Do you want to come in?”

“Can I?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside, gestured her past him and jabbed at the console with his thumb. The door slid shut without a sound, leaving them alone in the silence of his room.

Marci glanced around before holding up a small painted bottle stoppered with a plain cork. “Jai said this was a good choice if I wanted to get you a gift.” Dumbfounded, Gabe stared at the bottle. “You’ve been talking to Jai?”

“I met him.” She set it on the small table. “It’s an apology. The gift. Because I’m sorry.” A hint of smile curved her lips. “Do I want to know what it is?” She probably didn’t, not unless she really
was
sorry and wanted to enjoy what he could do with massage oil designed to seduce the senses. Except he couldn’t let her words lie. “You don’t need to be sorry. I do. And I—”

“Time,” she cut in softly. “Right before Zel and Lorenzo came into the bomb shelter, you told me that you needed time.”

He had to think back to what he’d said, to the panic that had prompted it. “I wanted you to get to know me. To see if you could believe what I already knew.”

Marci nodded. “I don’t like it, but I understand feeling like you’re living on borrowed time. It’s pretty much been the story of my life, ever since I was old enough to understand what I am.”

“You’re not, though, not anymore.” He wouldn’t let himself hope. Not yet. “You have all the time in the world.”