Spark Rising (3 page)

But then he asked with a soft note of pity in his voice, “What happened to you?”

She laughed and shoved her hair behind her ears in a quick, defiant motion. “Bad childhood, I guess. So I’m an antisocial misfit, and I have attachment issues, and I—”

“Is that an official diagnosis or did it come from an over-eager program leader?”

“I—what?” She shook her head. “No, Reyes. It came from me. I made it up right now.” It wasn’t true. Her sister had spat those words at her the last time she’d visited.

She threw her hands up in the air. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“I’m trying to figure you out.”

“Why?”

“I like you, Lena. That much of today wasn’t an act.” A sly smile pulled his lips up, and he held her gaze. “And I am in a unique position to make sure you are safe and happy.”

She felt her skin prickle, almost an electric response. She shifted away from him, took a step back, and shook her head. “I’m never going back. Not even if you ask nicely.”

She waited a beat, but he just put his hands on his hips and shrugged again.

“So unless you plan on trying to force me into your car…?”

Reyes rolled his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and leaned out to look past her at the Pueblo, and then leaned back in again. His tongue slid across his lower lip. “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea, considering.”

“Probably wouldn’t. Considering.” She took a step backward then stopped. “Reyes? How did you know I would come here? You know, instead of haring out and holing up in some abandoned wreck somewhere?”

He shrugged. “You live four miles from Santo Domingo. The Kewa belong to one of the biggest Nations. It made sense for you to come here, knowing we wouldn’t go in after you. And it’s what I would have done.”

Lena nodded.
So much for not being predictable. Better get to work on that, chica.

She backed away across the road to the Pueblo. She hated being predictable. “Goodbye. Have a good life, Reyes.”

He smiled and shook his head, calling after her, “This isn’t good-bye. In fact, you should call me Alex. We’ll see each other again.”

She turned away and strode into Santo Domingo. “Not going to happen,” she shouted back over her shoulder.

“Yes,” Reyes said, the certainty carrying to her with his voice. “It will.”

Chapter 3

Alex leaned back into the corner where the bar and the wall met, watching the young people circulating in the long room. The far end held a tiny dance floor and a small corner stage where a trio of young men worked setting up a homemade drum set. Tables hugged each other in the space between the bar and the dance floor. The whole place was dim, lit by tallow lamps hung on short chains well out of reach of customers in their twenties flitting around each other. His gaze moved with the crowd. Was one of these people the key to bringing Lena back to the city?

“We might’ve had her if we’d approached her differently,” he told himself under his breath. He couldn’t believe how thoroughly the op had been screwed.

Lucas had been after him for months, telling Alex he was ready to lead and implying Alex was holding him back. A rumor had come in about a powered girl living in the desert—yet another nonexistent ghost girl. Alex had given the entire file to Lucas to shut him up. He remained hands-off, letting Lucas build his own op and handle his own research and contacts. Alex had assumed she was a Neo-barb, or at best a mid-range runaway they’d drag back to the city and put to work in the power grid. He had encountered both before. From the moment they’d driven up and he’d seen her up on her roof making repairs and glowing like the sun, he’d known she was the real deal. So had Lucas. What a clusterfuck.

Once they’d returned to Azcon, Alex had sent Lucas to both Council and city offices to research all official employees named Danny. Lucas had tried to fight him, of course. Alex had been forced to coach him through the process, yet again.

“Listen, we already have all the information we need. We have her name, Lena. We know her brother is her contact, which means she has family in Azcon. We know her brother’s name is Danny. And we know from your contact that he uses a messenger to bring her client lists when he can’t get away—the messenger who put our names on the list.”

Lucas stared at him, wheels finally turning. “And if he has access to a runner he trusts and the ability to get out here regularly—”

“Well to the south of the fields and the range land—”

“Then he probably works for the city or the Council.”

“Exactly. Now, go find him.”

Lucas would follow any leads he found. Alex had conflicting loyalties, which meant he saw the problem of Little Miss Lena from a different angle, and he didn’t need Lucas peering over his shoulder.

Back at her place, tucked up next to the wall on her work table, had been a small stack of old books from the Azcon library. He’d grabbed one off the top and fanned through the pages. A slip of paper fluttered free from Orwell’s
1984
.

Someone had written on the scrap in loopy, classical writing, “Piece of Asp. Saturday. Drinks are on me, girlie.” It was signed “Ace.”

Alex had no way of knowing which Saturday the note referred to, but the note told him either Lena or the mysterious Ace might be a frequent visitor to the Piece of Asp. He’d hoped to find someone who knew her to take her a message.

But he’d have to wait for that someone to find him. He had come in earlier than the usual post-shift crowd to chat up the bartender. He’d described Lena. The bartender’s eye twitched as he glanced out at the growing crowd. He shook his head and told Alex she didn’t sound familiar. Alex dropped her name, then, and her friend’s, too. The bartender’s shifting gaze told Alex he was lying when he said he’d never met a Lena; he didn’t know any Ace, either. The man had moved off to serve other customers. And, Alex believed, to find Ace.

Alex waited, sipping an excellent, house-made tequila, and focused on tasting it instead of frustration. He leaned his head down to rub his eyes. He was tired. Tired enough that he found his usual discipline slipping in little hitches. It was just flashes of Lena’s freckled face or that energy bloom, unlike any he’d seen before. But those flashes were intrusive signs that he needed to focus. That on-target dig she’d made about him being snatched from his parents didn’t help any. It had taken everything he had to not respond, to focus on her pain instead of his own old wound. Now, with her no longer in front of him, he could allow some of it to leak out. Not much. Not enough to make him weak. Just enough to fuel him through the rest of his work.

He needed to be on his way, first back to the office to write up his Council report, and then to Fort Nevada to make his real report. It was already an hour past dark, and it had been a long day with no sign of rest in the immediate future. If it weren’t critical to make some kind of contact with someone Lena trusted, he’d leave now.

A pair of hard arms, heavily muscled and burnished deep brown, appeared on either side of him. One hand came to rest on the bar to his right, the other on the wall to his left. The breath Alex had just taken whispered out as his body subtly tensed, easing into position for quick, deadly movement.

“Hey there, stranger.” The voice in his ear was deep and too close. “I don’t know you. Is there a reason you’re dropping my name?”

Alex took a last sip as he turned his head. He cupped the small glass, and as he took the measure of the man leaning in, he recognized what a shame it would be to splinter the glass into the perfect skin of the face before him. The dim light gave his dark skin a bronze and gold glow over a clean-shaven jaw and pate. Pale whiskey-brown eyes shone out from his dark skin and fed the illusion of the glow.

“Depends, Ace,” Alex kept his voice low, “on whether you’re interested in ensuring the continued safety of a mutual friend—the one living in the middle of nowhere?”

Ace’s eyes darkened. He didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid, but Alex could feel the shift from curious to menacing.

Oh, yeah, Ace and Lena are close.

He had the man’s attention. He leaned in, putting his head next to the other man’s. “When did you last see her?” Alex kept his voice low and friendly. “I saw her this afternoon. Four Council teams threw her a party at her place.”

Now he had a reaction. The man’s jaw muscle jumped in time to the rapid pulse at his temple.

“But she left early and took off to stay with her friends in Santo Domingo,” Alex said.

“Good for her.” Ace’s voice was nonchalant, but he took a quick breath, and his eyelids dipped in relief.

“No, Ace, bad for her.” He made his voice hard. “If she had come quietly, if she’d cooperated, even if she’d been dragged back kicking and screaming, I could have arranged something.”

“Could have arranged something? And who the Dust are you?”

“Alejandro Reyes. Senior Council Agent. And the only man in Azcon, other than you, interested in keeping her
out
of the hands of the Council. But that doesn’t matter now.” He leaned back into the bar and slid the glass away in a quick, angry motion. “Now she’ll have the Council’s attention. Having their attention is bad. It’s worse than either of you think.” He let that sink in. “I’m not talking about giving up her freedom outside for a spot in a power plant line-up, I’m talking about real danger and being shipped away and forced to—”

A hand dropped onto Ace’s shoulder, pulling him away from Alex. A young man, blond hair cut into a shaggy frame for his long face, glared at Alex. He turned to Ace, eyes wide and indignant. “What the hell is this?”

Ace reached out and ran a placating hand across the young man’s lower chest. “It’s business, Jimmy. It’s just work.”

Jimmy’s gaze flicked over to Alex and ran over him. “He doesn’t look like work to me.”

Ace’s hand closed around Jimmy’s shirt, and he pulled the younger man in close to get his attention. “It’s work. Go on back, and I’ll—”

Alex tossed back the last of his tequila and shook his head. “No worries. We’re done. Get her to come to you. Send word to me at work.
Quietly
. I’ll get her somewhere safe.”

He turned to push through the crowd, but Ace’s hand left his boyfriend’s chest to shoot out and grab Alex’s arm.

“Wait.” Ace had been leaning against the bar. He stood now, towering over Alex and Jimmy both. “Why are you doing this? Telling me—it’s a little dangerous, isn’t it?”

The implied threat hung there for a moment, amusing Alex.

He met Ace’s dark expression. “You don’t get anything without giving a little. I’m giving you trust. So trust me. Convince her to trust me before it’s too damn late. Once she’s in custody, my hands may be tied. She’ll be on her own.” He pulled his arm free. “I can buy her a few days. Move fast.”

Alex slid off into the crowd. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He’d planted the seed. Now to wait for it to bear fruit.

# # #

Alex dropped his pen into its holder, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes. They ached, and it wasn’t simply the tedium of the paperwork waiting when he’d returned from the Piece of Asp. His office was dim. He could have flipped a switch and turned on the artificial lights, as the Zone Three Council offices were well-powered by Azcon Sparks, but he knew what it took to provide the energy. He preferred to conserve. He also genuinely liked the light of the beeswax candles that were the alternative. He liked the rhythm and elegance of the dip pens everyone else bitterly complained about, too.

He should go. Full dark had fallen hours before. He still had to report in to Fort Nevada about what had happened, and the Fort was a long way away. He rarely risked a written report outside of regularly scheduled message drops. When something worthy of the attention of his partner, Thomas, occurred, Alex disappeared from his life here in Council Zone Three and made the report in person. It would be a long night before Alex got any rest. Lena was worthy of Thomas’s attention.

She was worthy of attention, period. Alex kept turning her around in his head like a living puzzle box. His fascination wasn’t solely because they had been searching for her, believing in her existence, for so long. He admired what she had built. She lived life on her own terms, without any safety net.

The revolution Alex and Thomas were quietly stoking was dangerous and could be fatal. But they’d built a network to support their efforts. And if all else failed, they had a friendship spanning decades. They had each other. Lena was alone.

If he had been in her position—if his parents had held onto him like a treasure instead of handing him over to the Council in exchange for prestige and a bump in their monthly allotment of charge—could he have made his way, as she had, with no training, simply independence and that ass-kicking attitude?

Alex leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading at the memory of her clawing and kicking for freedom as she’d come down that slope with a Council agent doing everything he could to restrain her. She’d pulled free, and then when she’d seen Alex waiting for her, she hadn’t panicked. She hadn’t given up. She’d marched up that road to get in his face.

They needed her.

He turned to look out the wide-ledged window his rank afforded him. Azcon was dark. It was one of the largest of the relocation centers turned cities, and a little more than twenty thousand people lived here, though few of those citizens wandered the streets now. They were safe at home or, if they were night shift, tucked in to work. The Council touted the comfort it offered citizens during this time of “new prosperity.” Were they comfortable? Or were they resentful but complacent in the aftermath of two centuries of hunger and fighting and uncertainty? Perhaps they didn’t even care who ruled them.

And what about the men and women in Councilor Three’s offices, the bureaucrats and peace officers and agents? Did any of them care? Lucas did. He was a Council man. Alex’s lip curled. After spending the last year and half dealing with the ambitious little prick, when the time came, Lucas would be one of the first to die.

As if the thought of him was a beacon, a quick double knock sounded at Alex’s office door. Lucas entered, reaching over and flicking the lights on as he did. Alex squinted. He continued looking out the now reflective glass for a moment, enjoying that last thought, before he turned to the younger man.

“Hey,” he said mildly. “I thought you were done for the day. What’s up?”

Lucas showed his teeth and slapped a file on Alex’s lap. He kept some papers in reserve, a few thin, faded sheets. “I got her.”

Alex arched a brow. “You got her? How’s that?” He sat forward and lifted the file to inspect. He’d seen it before, the last time about a decade before. Family name, Gracey. He flipped open the family file and read aloud the Citizen Contact Sheet from the top. “Daniel Joseph Gracey. Son of Joseph Michael Gracey and Mercedes Solano Gracey. Home address: 235 Ochoa Street, Unit 9A. Status: Mid-level Spark. Occupation: Junior Assistant Councilor Aide to Councilor Three.” None of this was news to him. He paused, arching his brows. “Is this brother Danny?”

It damn well better not be.
He’d been grooming the young Mr. Gracey as an informer for close to a decade. If the kid had been hiding a high-powered sister the whole time, there’d be hell to pay.

He looked over the top of the paper at Lucas, who gestured for him to continue with the next page.

Alex flipped to the next page and read, “Teresa Maria Gracey Luevano. Daughter of Joseph Michael Gracey and Mercedes Solano Gracey; Widow of Roberto Luevano; Mother of Joseph Gracey Luevano. Home address: 18 Martin Circle. Status: Mid-level Spark. Occupation: Electrical Source Level Two, Water Resources, Day Shift.” He flipped through the rest of the papers, reading the names. Mama Gracey, another mid-level Spark, assigned to work the electrical plant here at the Council building. Gracey Senior, former Senior Councilor Aide to Councilor Three, deceased. All of the birth and education records, and the one death certificate, were in order. He frowned, searching his memory. The papers for the little sister who had died as a child were missing.