The Far Shores (The Central Series) (42 page)

When she was cognizant
enough for a moment or two of reasoning, Anastasia thought it likely that the
water was laced with a derivative of datura, or something of that order.
Whatever the nature of the toxin, after an indeterminable time, Anastasia
started to become aware of the waxing and waning of the poison in her system.
Generally, as it receded, her thirst came to the fore, which was as consuming
as the drug itself. But after drinking, allowing herself only a few small sips,
holding the water in her mouth as long as possible to get the maximum reduction
of her terrible thirst, there was a brief period of, if not lucidity, at least
reduced impairment. Whether this was due to a habituation on the part of her
body to the drug’s effect, or simply because it needed time to take hold and
overwhelm her consciousness, she did not know.

Taking advantage of that
interval between hallucination and the circular contemplation of her relentless
thirst, which she believed to be only a handful of minutes, Anastasia took the
opportunity to gnaw methodically at her fingers until she drew blood, one each
time, a dreadful reminder of the passage of time.

***

“That was quick.”

Eerie nodded her
agreement and then wedged herself between Vivik and Alex, putting an arm around
both of them and leaning her head on Alex’s shoulder. Vivik flinched, and
turned his attention unnecessarily to his beer, but Alex noticed that he didn’t
move away as he might have previously.

“Yeah,” Katya agreed
sourly, regarding them with her hands on her hips. “As it turned out, we didn’t
have much to say to each other.”

Alex glanced from one
girl to the other. Eerie offered him nothing but a slight smile, while Katya’s
expression was unreadable in the dark. From her body language, however, Alex
got the feeling that Katya was angry.

“Did something happen?”

“Girl stuff,” Eerie
offered softly.

***

Despite the size of the bed, Michael
inhabited only a portion of the right side. With his arms folded behind his
head, his elbows touched the edge of the mattress. He was illuminated by an LED
reading light that was attached to the wooden headboard, bare-chested, the
blankets kicked off and the sheet pulled up around his waist. He put aside the
technical manual he was studying when Alice came through his door and smiled.
She had found the key taped to the inside cover of one of her diaries a few
weeks before, and was amused to discover that, even after everything that had
happened between them, he had never changed the locks.

“Hey. How’d it go with
Gaul?”

Alice sat down on the
opposite side of the bed, which she had secretly already begun to think of as
hers, and started the relatively involved process of unlacing her calf-high
boots.

“Not great,” Alice
admitted with a sigh. “He’s a stubborn bastard. He used another bureaucratic
delay to avoid the Inquiry for a few more days while he requisitions records
from the archive, or some such nonsense. And he’s cooked up some sort of
assignment that’ll take all of Audits into the field for the better part of a
week, maybe more.”

Michael frowned.

“Do you really think the
mission isn’t legitimate? Because if you are certain that it is a stalling
tactic on his part, you are within your rights to demand an immediate
Inquiry...”

Alice froze, then
glanced over at him with her trademark smile.

“Mikey, dear, I’m very
fond of you. You’re a capable guy, and you have all sorts of uses that I am
happy to take advantage of. One thing I will never – ever – need from you,
though, is a reminder on how to be an Auditor.”

“Noted,” Michael
acknowledged, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Or a demanding bitch,
for that matter,” Alice continued, removing one boot and throwing it aside
before she started on the other. “For the record, I don’t think he’s stalling,
as much as I suspect him of having conveniently arranged matters so that events
occur on a time frame that happens to suit him perfectly. Hazards of dealing
with a precognitive, I suppose. The Director is a pragmatist above all things,
Mikey. He’d never send Audits on a wild goose chase. He’s got too many other
errands for us to run.”

“You sound bitter.”

“Surprised?”

“More bitter than usual.”

Alice tossed her other
boot aside and then shed her leather jacket, along with the complicated
arrangement of holsters and pouches that attached to her belt, kicking all of it
into a crude pile near the wall. She collapsed on her back on the other side of
the bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.

“Maybe I’m just getting
old,” Alice suggested playfully.

“Not possible.”

“Careful answer. I’m
going to choose to interpret it in the best possible light. I think I’m just
feeling wary. I don’t like the idea of getting intelligence from Witches. No –
let me rephrase that. I don’t like the idea of
being given
intelligence
by Witches. If we had tortured it out of them, I’d feel a whole lot better.”

“You have such a unique
outlook on life,” Michael observed, shaking his head. “Not that I disagree, as
much as I object on moral grounds.”

“Stow it. You’re an
Auditor now, Mikey. The only morals you are allowed are those that I delegate
to you.”

“You suspect the
information?”

“No.” Alice rolled onto
her side to look at him. “It checks out. Analytics has been running it down
every which way since Mitzi got back from the field, and they can’t poke any
holes in it. As a matter of fact, one of the Analysts said that it actually
explains a few things that they’ve never understood. Fills a hole or two,” she
remarked, eyes sparkling, “as it were.”

Michael grinned and
stroked her arm.

“You’re awful.”

“That is the general
consensus. The precognitive pool just finished the probability matrices
regarding the intel. I stopped by to check it out before I came here. Everything
lines up perfectly. They think this could be a big break for us; a paradigm
shift, even.”

Alice frowned briefly.
Michael’s concern was obvious in his expression.

“What’s bothering you?”

“It’s all too damn
convenient, for one. Here we are, stumbling around half-blind, kicking over the
occasional Anathema op by chance, uncertain what it is they might be getting up
to, and then our oldest enemy just decides to drop some key intelligence in our
laps that breaks everything wide open? I’ve had my entire department working
the Anathema for months, ever since the raid, and they haven’t made much
progress. It’s like the Witches waited until they knew we’d be desperate enough
to act on the information before they handed it to us. Makes me think they know
more about what’s going on in Central than I am comfortable with.”

“I can understand that.”

“That’s not all. The
precogs gave the data a pass, but the results of an operation based on it were
mixed.”

“I thought you said...”

“Success? Oh, yeah. Practically
guaranteed it. We do this, we get some real insight on what the Anathema have
planned. Maybe even confirmation on what that Witch told Mitzi, that there’s
some sort of secondary conflict going on between the Witches and the Anathema,
something we can exploit. But there were also premonitions of major unintended
consequences as well.”

Michael winced. That was
news that Audits never wanted to get from the precognitive pool. Unintended
consequences were the bane of any Auditor’s existence. There was no gain in
reconciling one account, after all, if the entire ledger was thrown out of
balance in the process.

“What kind of
consequences?”

“Unclear. Bad juju.
Mayhem and loss, bitter truths, chaos and upheaval. Exactly the sort of thing
I’m trying to prevent.”

“If this operation is as
significant as Analytics claims, then it could well shift the strategic
balance,” Michael reasoned. “There are as many as three factions involved,
potentially more, and the balance of powers between them is uncertain at the
moment. Maybe this Audit has the potential to set off a chain reaction, ripple
effects that could account for what the precognitives are anticipating.”

“Could be. We could also
be the recipient of that upheaval. Maybe the Audit is successful, but the
Anathema return to Central while I’m not minding the shop. Maybe the Anathema
are weakened just enough for the Witches to exert control over them, creating a
unified front from two feuding enemies, and we are in a worse position. Or
maybe...”

Alice trailed off and
her eyes lost focus.

“What?”

“It’s possible that what
we learn about the Anathema, the Outer Dark, is so bad that Central spirals out
of control. What if the Anathema have such an enormous strategic advantage that
public knowledge of it tempts the cartels to defect rather than fight?”

“I doubt it. After the
raid, I think there are too many fresh graves and recent wounds for most of the
cartels to consider switching sides.”

“It would be nice to
think so,” Alice said, rolling to his side of the bed. “But that isn’t always
the way things work, Mikey. Loyalty is a fragile and mutable commodity. Enemies
can become bedfellows overnight.”

“I see your concerns,
even if I think you are worrying too much. That said, what will you do? Audits
can’t just sit on the information and not do anything for fear of the
consequences.”

“Of course not,” Alice
said, wriggling out of her jeans. “Even if we could, that’s not my style.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

“I have some tension I
was planning on working out.”

Alice threw her jeans
into the pile that had accumulated by the side of Michael’s bed.

“That’s not what I...”

Alice put a finger to
his lips, then peeled her shirt off and tossed it aside.

“Tomorrow we start
logistics,” she said, slipping beneath the sheet and into his arms. “By the end
of the week, we’ll pack up the kids and head for the Ukraine.”

Michael paused in the
act of kissing her neck.

“We’re bringing the
students? Are you sure? This could be ugly...”

Alice shushed him again.

“Of course it will be,”
she said earnestly, looking straight into his eyes. “That’s exactly why we will
need them.”

“I’m not so sure about this.”

“Not sure about what?
It’s a beach. You have a bonfire on the beach at night. It’s the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“Don’t be a grouch,”
Rebecca said, sitting down on the sand beside Alice. “You’re always so grumpy
when we do something that doesn’t involve murder. This will be fun.”

“It just doesn’t seem
right,” Alice muttered, resting her chin on her arms. “There isn’t even a
fucking ocean, you know? Just a bunch of Ether. What are you going to do if one
of the kids runs off and gets disintegrated?”

“That’s not going to
happen,” Rebecca countered, taking a tightly rolled joint in the shape of a
cone from the breast pocket of her flannel. “Now cheer up, or I will make you
cheer up.”

“Make me.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Otherwise
I’m just going to bed.”

“Your choice,” Rebecca
sighed, the unlit joint hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She leaned
across the gritty sand that separated them and put her hand to Alice’s forehead
as if she were checking to see if she had a fever. There was a brief exchange
of energy, not unlike a discharge of static electricity on a windy day. “You
know, Michael was looking forward to this. You could at least try not to ruin
it for him. He misses the kids, and they miss him. This is a good opportunity
to remind everyone that they are still human.”

“Fine, fine,” Alice
grumbled, smiling despite herself as she stood and brushed the sand from the
back of her jeans. “I’m gonna get a beer. You want something?”

“Fuck yes,” Rebecca
affirmed, lighting the joint and inhaling with obvious pleasure. “I think there
was a white wine. I’ll have that.”

Alice nodded and
wandered off in search of the cooler.

Rebecca leaned back and
smoked, watching the irregularly blinking lights on the side of the power plant
spell out their cryptic message, for whatever unknown purpose. It was not,
after all, as if there were air traffic to be warded off.

Katya sat down beside
her with a thud and a sigh, and handed her a clear plastic cup.

“From Miss Gallow,” she
explained, holding out her hand. “Can I borrow that for a second?”

“What?” Rebecca said,
surprised and feigning ignorance. “My cigarette, you mean? Smoking is bad for
you.”

“Not if your bloodstream
is filled with nanites. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how resistant
to empathic manipulation I am, Miss Levy.” Katya grinned mischievously. “I
think you could probably fool me under normal circumstances, but I’m guessing
you are stretched thin at the moment, keeping everybody happy and in line. It
does
look
more or less like a cigarette, but it sure doesn’t smell that
way...”

Rebecca sighed and
handed the joint over.

“Fine. Just don’t tell.
Stupid Black Sun psy-war training. And call me Rebecca, for God’s sake.”

“Whatever you say,”
Katya agreed, puffing away. “Little chilly tonight, huh? Wish they’d get that
fire going already.”

“Neither Vivik or
Michael was a boy scout, so it might be a while.” Rebecca glanced at the
assassin’s face as she passed the joint back. “Hey, what’s your problem, Katya?
You look pissed.”

“What? No. Not really.
Just a little rattled. It’s been a complicated evening, Miss Levy.” Katya
sipped from her red plastic cup and stared out at the barely visible grey plain
where the ocean should have been. “Nothing’s ever easy where Alex Warner is
concerned. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Is this about you kids
sneaking off? Because I told you I would let that slide as long as nothing like
that happens again during our visit...”

“No,” Katya said,
shaking her head when Rebecca reluctantly offered to pass the joint back. “I’m
not worried about getting in trouble, Miss Levy. I’ve been in trouble as long
as I can remember. It’s just...that girl. Eerie.”

That got Rebecca’s
attention.

It wasn’t just that
Katya was talking to her – she had barely spoken even during their mandated
counseling sessions, after all, offering only the most minimal information and
guarded responses – but because anything involving the Changeling was of
interest to Rebecca. Rebecca cared deeply for Eerie on a personal level, for
one thing, and at the same time, Eerie represented one of the biggest unknowns
of her professional career, a situation only exacerbated by her surprisingly
affinity for Alex Warner.

“What about her?”

“I’m not sure,” Katya
said, her expression dazed and remarkably unguarded. “Maybe I just don’t get
her. I know I don’t get her and Alex.”

Rebecca sipped her wine
and let Katya work it out. She didn’t want to spoil her surprisingly
confessional mood by saying the wrong thing. She fought down the urge to nudge
her emotionally – Katya hadn’t been lying about being a hard nut to crack.
Whatever training she had received at the Black Sun assassin’s school, it made
Katya more resilient to psychic tampering than any non-psychic that Rebecca had
encountered in her professional career, excepting only her mistress, Anastasia
Martynova. Maybe it was something the Black Sun put in the water.

“I’m not jealous, if
that’s what you’re thinking. I think I have a higher opinion of Alex than most
people do – don’t tell him I said that, by the way. But when it comes to
figuring out what Eerie sees in him, as far as a boyfriend goes, or why he
picked her out of all the girls throwing themselves at him – I’m at a loss.
It’s a mystery, I guess,” she added, finishing her drink and then turning the
cup upside down, so that the last few drops fell on the sand. “Pardon my
language, Miss Levy, but I fucking hate mysteries.”

“You and Eerie talked
about something, didn’t you? That’s why you followed Alex...”

“I followed Alex because
that’s what I’m supposed to do,” Katya said, standing. “I keep an eye on him.”

“You’re a candidate for
Audits,” Rebecca reminded her stiffly. “Protecting Alex isn’t your job anymore.”

“Looking after Alex,
running errands for Audits – those are just chores I got handed. I’m an
assassin, Miss Levy. Killing people is my job.” Katya shrugged and held up her
empty cup. “I’m off to find a refill and a snack. Thanks for throwing the
party, by the way.”

Rebecca watched her
leave with narrowed eyes. Then she sighed, and returned to the joint, which had
nearly gone out, and needed some attention to get burning again.

While she burned it down
to a roach, Rebecca scanned the small crowd on the beach. Vivik held a stack of
dried wood while Michael lit crumpled newspaper beneath a small wooden lean-to
that had been built in the fire pit. In the near distance, Alice and Dr. Graaf
were smoking cigars and having a seemingly pleasant chat with Gerald Windsor.
Haley was throwing a Frisbee that an enthusiastic rottweiler retrieved while
Eerie watched and clapped at every catch, fascinated. Min-jun was filling a cup
from the pony keg setup near the laden barbeque that had attracted Katya’s
attention. Alex and Timor chatted nearby, while Grigori and Chandi nursed cups
that they didn’t seem to be drinking from. At the edge of the beach, Mitsuru
watched everything with an impassive expression.

The decision to provide
alcohol to students had been controversial. Michael in particular hadn’t liked
it, particularly not with the regular class visiting from the Academy. But
Rebecca felt that it was important to carve out safe outlets for the kids,
occasionally, so they could act out in a supervised manner. Dr. Graaf had
argued for intemperance with surprising conviction, while Gerald weakly
objected. They had eventually settled on a psychically enforced three-drink
limit.

The scene was pleasant
to normal eyes, but Rebecca could feel the undercurrents of emotion – tension,
desire, and jealousy – swirling through the party. Rebecca ground out the stub
of her joint and stood reluctantly, trying to decide where to start first.
Despite the weed, she didn’t feel high at all. All she felt was tired.

“All of you, have fun,” Rebecca
commanded, speaking to the air and the night. “Make friends. Fall in love.
Enjoy yourselves.” Rebecca paused, looking thoughtfully at the first flickering
of the fire. “But no fucking,” she decided. “Definitely none of that.”

Rebecca sighed and shook
her head to dispel the sudden fit of melancholy. She had the feeling it was
going to be a long night.

***

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,
but I was kind of hoping Anastasia would be here. Renton, too. It just isn’t
the same...”

“Ha! Well, I won’t tell
Renton that you miss him,” Timor said, amused. “He’s insufferable enough as it
is, since Ana forced him to graduate and then promoted him off to the
Committee. Even I hardly see him these days. And Anastasia took a leave of
absence from the Academy shortly after you started at the Far Shores. She will
probably test out herself without ever returning to class.”

“That sucks, man,” Alex
sympathized. “It’s just you, then?”

“There are a few other
Black Sun members, but no one as entertaining as the previous group, I’m
afraid.”

“It’s pretty boring
here,” Katya said, standing close to her brother, balancing a plate piled with
short ribs and barbecued chicken. “Nothing to do but listen to Alex whine about
everything.”

“Hey! I’m right here,
you know.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

“Now, now, Katya, be
nice,” Timor said with a grin. “He seems to me to have grown considerably since
we last had time to chat. Training sessions and fighting in simulations aside,
it has been a while.”

“Um, thanks,” Alex said,
scratching his head. “Though you sorta make me sound like a little kid.”

“Don’t compliment him,”
Katya said, a ring of barbeque sauce around her mouth. “He’ll go into some kind
of gay panic.”

“Not cool. Seriously,”
Alex protested. “I’m not like that.”

Timor laughed.

“Don’t worry,” Timor
said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am well aware that my sister is awful.
If she had good things to say about you, then I would worry.”

Alex was obscurely
grateful. It was weird to think he would have come to miss the Academy so much,
even Anastasia’s little crew, but seeing them all again made him nostalgic for
the nights he had spent drinking with the guys, homeroom with Mr. Windsor, and
having lunch on the roof or in the quad...but that made him think of the people
who weren’t here, which was far from pleasant. Margot, for example – despite
her chilly demeanor, he missed the vampire girl and her single-minded
enthusiasm for Audits. He couldn’t help but think his experience in the
Program, and at the Far Shores, would have been easier to bear had she been
there to share the burden.

And then, of course,
there was Emily...but it was best not to think about her. No good would come
from resurrecting her memory.

“Shouldn’t you go hang
out with your girlfriend?” Katya inquired, tossing the picked-clean remains of
a rib over her shoulder and into the darkness. “I see you every day, and I
wanna talk with Timor.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Alex
said, realizing that she was probably right. “I’ll catch you later, okay,
Timor?”

“Sure.”

“Scram!” Katya ordered,
kicking sand in his general direction. “Dummy.”

They waited until Alex
was out of earshot.

“It is good to see you,
Katya,” Timor said cheerfully, taking a piece of chicken from her plate and
ignoring her glare. “I’m glad you and Alex are getting along so well.”

“So far, so good,” Katya
said, shrugging. “Wish I could say the same for the rest of the plan. How are
things on your end?”

“Grim,” Timor said, his
expression darkening. “I am trying to hold the Black Sun contingent at the
Academy together in Anastasia’s absence, but I am a poor substitute to say the
least. If the current situation should persist much longer, I fear that the
Hegemony efforts to recruit from our stable of students may find some success.
Only the rampant brutality of the Thule Cartel’s purge prevents them from forming
a united front against us.”

“Neat.”

“Very.”

“It’s true, then?” Katya
lowered her voice and glanced at her brother with evident concern. “Anastasia’s
really...you know?”

“That is my
understanding,” Timor said gently, putting his arm comfortingly around his sister’s
shoulders. “I am certain that all will be well, however. Trust in her as you
always have, Katya.”

Katya nodded slowly.

“And Renton?”

“Haven’t seen him,”
Timor said, with a shrug. “He has not been present to represent Ana at the
Committee, however, so I assume that he is doing her will. As must we all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Timor ruffled Katya’s
hair, earning him a stern look.

“What of the Changeling,
Katya?”