Harlequin Nocturne March 2014 Bundle: Shadowmaster\Running with Wolves (9 page)

Sammael caught up with her, his breathing sharp not with exertion but with anger. His gaze snapped in every direction.

“
This
is what you brought me out here to see?” he asked as the new guards gradually took their assigned posts. “There's almost no gap at all. And what about surveillance cameras?”

“I never said it would be easy,” she whispered. “But I also have access to codes that can disable the cameras. I'm sure that some of your clients won't come anywhere near a Boss's turf in the Fringe. I thought it would be worth your while.”

Sammael's lips set in a grim line. “I could lose half my crew in an operation like this.”

“But at least you have a chance. The new routine hasn't been established. The new guards don't know the old ones yet, and vice versa. You'll have to watch carefully, but there will be screwups. There always are.”

“You're surprisingly knowledgeable for a humble Admin,” Sammael said.

“I'm not stupid. These guards are trained to shoot at anything that moves, but they aren't Aegis agents. They aren't even Enforcers. You just have to get your crew close enough to stun a couple of the guards, replace them with your own people and get inside the warehouse.”

“Just,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“Look at it this way. If the Enforcers are concentrated in the area of the Wall, they'll be less likely to patrol
this
area.”

Sammael grunted, watching the guards intently. She followed his gaze.

“I told you I didn't want anyone killed because of me,” she said. “All I have to do is walk out there and turn myself in. You should be able to get away without any trouble, since they'll be busy with me. And I swear to you that I'll never tell them where to find you or your Hold.”

His silence made her throat tighten—not with fear, though she knew he could destroy her mission in a heartbeat—but because she didn't want to leave him. It seemed no amount of determination could protect her from either emotional or physical attraction. She was still painfully aware of the warmth of his body—so unlike the ancient legends of vampire-kind—his graceful strength, his striking and handsome face.

And the kindness she was forced to doubt but couldn't forget.

“I can't take your word for that,” he said coldly. “But this is good enough for now. I'll want the rest of the information as soon as it's safe to get you out.”

Chapter 9

P
hoenix released her breath slowly. Sammael would probably never trust her completely—that would be madness on his part— but she thought he was sincere in his satisfaction with what she'd shown him. He didn't suspect that everything had been prearranged.

“We're done here,” Sammael said tersely. “Let's go.”

They headed back for the Fringe by a different but equally circuitous route, pausing often to watch and listen. Phoenix was reasonably confident that the Enforcers would obey their orders and continue to stay out of her way, even though there would be at least one watching every possible route to and from the Fringe.

She didn't realize she'd been too optimistic until Sammael suddenly disappeared, she heard the faint sound of a scuffle and he returned dragging a helmetless and clearly unconscious young Enforcer by the collar of his dark uniform.

“I caught one of your hunters,” Sammael said, his voice icy as the wind off the Bay in winter. “I'm surprised they let such a green recruit work without a partner.”

“How can you tell he's green?” she asked with a calm she was far from feeling.

“Look at him,” Sammael said, nudging the man's leg with the toe of his boot. “Young and stupid, hardly out of his teens. They must be getting desperate.”

Struggling to keep her fear from showing, Phoenix looked more closely into the young man's face. “I think he's a little older than he seems,” she said. “You're not going to hurt him, are you?”

He gave her a long, penetrating look. “What do
you
think I should do?”

“Leave him somewhere no one will find him for a while. He can't do any harm now.”

“But he would have, if he'd managed to send for his comrades before I got to him. He might even have killed you. Or me.”

Phoenix allowed herself a very small measure of hope. Sammael didn't know who his prisoner was...or was pretending not to. She knelt beside the young man, feeling for his pulse. Steady and strong. He wasn't in any danger. Yet.

“The patrolmen are doing their jobs,” she said, rising again, “and it's not their fault if their superiors believe I'm a traitor.”

“As you
are
.”

“Yes. But this one is no threat to you or your crew. Just leave him somewhere out of the way, and let's go on.”

He stared at her for a long time. “No,” he said. “I think I'll bring him along. We might find out what they intend to do if they can't find you...if they plan to bring an even larger force into the Fringe, maybe even Aegis operatives.”

By questioning him,
Phoenix thought with a sinking heart.
You want to be absolutely certain the Enforcers are doing what I claimed.

“If he disappears,” she said, trying to conceal the desperation in her voice, “they'll send more Enforcers, anyway.”

“I don't think so. They expect some of their own to fall performing their duties.”

“You obviously don't know much about cops, or soldiers,” she said. She touched his shoulder hesitantly, aware that she was taking another big chance with him. “I have another idea. Even if you can't risk getting me out of the city now, maybe you could set it up to seem as if I'm gone. That would get the agents looking in the southern Zone outside the Wall and out of the Fringe, wouldn't it?”

“And how am I to get that information to your pursuers?” he asked.

“We can think of something. You can still keep me around until you're absolutely sure I'm not working for your enemies.”

He looked into her eyes with an intensity that made her shiver. “Where is your former urgency?” he asked. “It almost seems as if you
want
to stay at the Hold. Is it because of these
‘feelings'
you believe you have for me? Because you believe I could return them?”

“I wouldn't be stupid enough to expect that,” she said, lifting her chin.

Drakon stared at her a moment longer, heaved the Enforcer over his shoulder and waited for Phoenix to precede him. For a moment, she seriously considered using her superior night vision to create some kind of diversion and signal the other watching Enforcers to rescue their comrade while she pulled Sammael to
safety.

But she knew if she made any rash moves, the young Enforcer might be the one to pay. And that would be far more of a disaster than she dared tell Sammael.

All she could hope for was that she could convince Sammael not to harm him. And that he wouldn't break under questioning and give her—or himself—away.

Constantly aware of Sammael on her heels, Phoenix let him herd her into the Fringe by paths only the inhabitants could negotiate without difficulty. Once they were within a quarter mile of the Hold, he dropped the young Enforcer and spent a good while simply watching and listening. At least, Phoenix thought, the other Enforcers were keeping their distance.

But she and Sammael weren't to be left alone after all. She heard the rustling of footsteps around them a few seconds after Sammael jerked up his head and tensed his muscles, ready for a fight. Out of the darkness, moving almost as silently as a dhampir, came a ragged man, and then a woman and a child followed by a small crowd of Scrappers. They spread out to form a loose circle around Phoenix, Sammael and his prisoner. Sammael relaxed, and Phoenix guessed that they knew him...and he, them.

The young boy—no more than ten years old—moved closer, staring down at the Enforcer. His face was smudged with dirt and gaunt with hunger, his eyes hollow. He wore an expression weary and wise—and angry—far beyond his years.

“Look, Mama,” he said to the haggard woman behind him. “A Squeezer.” He looked up at Sammael, and Phoenix saw fierce admiration in his eyes. “Where'd you get him, Boss?”

Sammael cast a brief, warning glance at Phoenix. “He was dogging us,” he said to the boy in a deliberately casual voice. “You know how many Squeezers have been hanging around here lately.”

“Yeah,” the boy said, looking at the other silent observers. “They're doing sweeps now. Like the one when they took Dad.”

There was a low, hostile murmuring that Phoenix pretended not to notice.

“The way they took my Lisa,” a tall man said, his voice breaking. “She never did anything. We never did anything but be useless to the government. So we came here, and even in the Fringe it wasn't safe from them.” He pointed an accusing finger at the unconscious Enforcer.

There were more murmurs—of family members arrested and shipped off to the bloodsucker city, of unreasonable laws that condemned even the most minor lawbreakers, of constant hiding from Enforcer sweeps to maintain their fragile freedom, the right to live this hard and brutal life.

Almost as if he'd heard them, the young Enforcer groaned, and his eyelids fluttered. Sammael heaved him to his feet, bunched his fist and hit the boy square in the jaw. The Enforcer slumped again, and Phoenix suppressed the urge to hit Sammael just as hard.

“Where you taking him, Boss?” one of the male Scrappers said, his voice nearly trembling with hatred.

“Back to the Hold for questioning,” Sammael said, reaching down to grab the Enforcer's collar. “Find out what they're planning.”

“But we know why they're here,” the young boy's mother said. “Everyone knows they're after someone who came to the Fringe to get away.” Her gazed fixed on Phoenix. “Who's she? Never seen her before.”

“A new recruit from another Boss's turf,” Sammael said. His voice held an unmistakable note of authority that strongly discouraged further questions. But the Scrappers were tough, and even Sammael couldn't deter them.

“Rumor says the one the Squeezers are after is a govrat looking for a way out of the city,” said an older man, his body hunched with years of hard labor.

“Like many others, Elder,” Sammael said, holding the man's stare.

Glances were exchanged in heavy silence. Phoenix felt no fear of what they might do to her, only a deep pity and shame that was becoming all too familiar.

“This govrat they're looking for,” a man with a gravelly voice said, “we heard she found you during a parlay with The Preacher.”

“She did,” Sammael said. “She ran before I could speak to her.”

“No one knows where she is now,” the first woman said. “As long as the Squeezers are here, none of us get any peace.”

“You know if
we
find her,” the boy said, displaying a gap-toothed grin, “we'll give her to the Squeezers.”

“We don't want you in no trouble,” the gravel-voiced man said. “You help us, we help you. The way it's always been.” He kicked at the Enforcer's boot. “Give him to us. They'll never find out what happened to him, but maybe they'll remember it ain't safe to come to our neighborhood unless they have a whole army with them.”

Phoenix was painfully aware of a taut sense of eagerness in the crowd, the primal anticipation of the persecuted waiting for a chance to punish one who had taken part in their persecution. This was no sudden whim, but a deep, long-standing resentment. She had no doubt that they would kill the young man...eventually.

The truly frightening thing was that Sammael was obviously considering their offer. His eyes were harder than she'd ever seen them.

Maybe he agreed with the Scrappers. Maybe he didn't think whatever he'd learn by questioning the boy was worth the effort and the potential danger to him and his crew.

He began to lift the young man by the collar again, pushing him toward the Scrappers, but Phoenix moved to stand between him and the mob.

“Wait!” she said.

Everyone stared at her. The young Enforcer began to stir again.

Moving faster than she ever had, Phoenix tore off her headlamp, snatched the young man's collar from Sammael's loose grip and ran, half-dragging, half-carrying the Enforcer away from the Scrappers. There were shouts behind her, quickly muffled. Sunrise wasn't far away, and once it was light she doubted either Sammael or the Scrappers would try to catch the Enforcer in a place where his fellow cops might see them.

She'd been placed in an impossible position. If she took the young man to the nearest Enforcer, she'd lose any chance to continue her mission. She'd have to return to Aegis in defeat.

But Sammael might very well kill the patrolman anyway, even if he'd never intended to give him over to the Scrappers. She couldn't let that happen.

Casting her senses wide, she began searching for one of the hidden Enforcer teams. She heard and smelled a man and a woman a little to the north and set out at a run, the patrolman slung over her shoulder. She'd gone about half the distance when Brita ran right into her path.

“What are you doing out here?” the lieutenant asked, panting a little.

“I could ask you the same question,” Phoenix said, changing course toward the nearest abandoned building as if she'd been headed that way all along. She eased the young man to the ground just inside the open doorway and straightened to face Brita.

“Where's Sammael?” the other woman said, catching up to her.

“We went out so I could show him the value of the information I promised.”

“Why in hell didn't he tell anyone?” Brita asked. “How could he go out there with you alone?”

“Why did you tell me my information had already checked out?” Phoenix countered.

Brita's expression made clear she wasn't about to answer. She stared down at the man. “Where did
he
come from?”

“Sammael caught him following us,” Phoenix said, whispering a swift prayer of thanks that Brita didn't seem to recognize the patrolman, either. “He's...been drawing this guy's friends away so we could—”

“What is he thinking? What can he gain by doing this?”

“He said he wanted to question him about the Enforcers' intentions,” Phoenix said.

“We
know
what their intentions are, if you've been telling the truth,” Brita said, taking a menacing step toward Phoenix.

“Maybe Sammael has some other idea he didn't share with me.”

“And now you're alone out here without protection, and so is Sammael. After I told you what nearly happened to him before.”

Brita was so very good at pretending to believe that Sammael was merely a vulnerable human, Phoenix thought, without an Opir's means of defending himself. “It wasn't my choice,” she said.

Sammael's lieutenant glanced from Phoenix to the young Enforcer at her feet. “Something about this stinks to high heaven, and—”

Phoenix lifted her hand, suddenly aware of unfamiliar scents and the scuffling of feet not far away. “Someone's coming,” she said.

Brita's nostrils flared. “Damn. I know who it is. They all smell the same.”

“Who?”

“The Preacher's men. And they're headed this way.”

“Maybe they followed you,” Phoenix said.

“Not possible,” Brita said, though her attention remained focused on the street. “I don't know why they're here, but I'd say there are about ten of them, and they know where we are.”

“So we'll have to fight,” Phoenix said.

“You can bet some of them will go straight for this Enforcer, but they probably won't bother holding him hostage.”

Like the angry Scrappers, Phoenix thought. “You'd let him be killed?”

“I'd throw him to a pack of starving wolves to keep them off my tail,” Brita said. But she glanced again at the young Enforcer, a deep frown between her eyes.

“You're right,” she said. “I wouldn't let them have my worst enemy. I'll get him to the Hold.”

Phoenix's mind raced. She had no reason to believe Brita would treat this man better than The Preacher's crew, or the Scrappers. But the alternative was to see the patrolman die here and now.