"I guess. But nothing lasts forever, Fats."
"Ain't that the truth. Better enjoy while you can, brother."
I smelled the scent of nightshade before Electra draped her arms around my shoulders. "Mind if I borrow him for a while, Fats?"
He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "He's all yours, miss."
She led me across the abandoned ballroom floor, trampling confetti and kicking metallic-colored balloons out of our path as we made our way upstairs.
"Tell me something, Electra."
"What is it?"
"Why are you with me?"
She leaned her head against my shoulder. "That's easy. Because for the longest time, I was the most dangerous person I knew. And then I met you."
"You think I’m dangerous?"
"You're with me, aren't you?"
"Touché."
She looked up at me. "What's with the soul-searching, Mick? You seem unfocused tonight."
I sighed. "Hate to drop this on you, but I think our quiet days are coming to an end."
Her eyes glimmered. "It's about damn time."
"What?"
"Don't play around, Mick. Peace never lasts, and besides — it's boring. People like us aren't meant to live quiet lives. Whatever's coming, we can handle it."
"It's gonna be bad this time, sweetheart. I can feel it."
We stopped at the door of my suite. She pushed it open. "Is it happening tonight?"
I shook my head. "Not tonight."
"Then don't worry about it. Focus on the moment. Focus on us."
"Gonna be awful hard to do, Electra."
She grinned, white teeth sinking into her ruby-red bottom lip. "I think I can do something about that." With a smoky laugh, she pulled me inside. And just as quickly, my worries faded away as my mind focused on more pleasant activities.
Chapter 2: Double Up
Natalie had an angel's face and devilish eyes. Brushing back a strand of blond hair back from her face, she smiled. "You're going on assignment, Mike."
I stepped up to the tabletop, which doubled as a field mission screen that displayed surveillance feed and photos along with related files. "You mean we're going."
"Not this time. Deacon wants you solo for this one. Infiltrate, report, and wait for instructions."
I gave her a quizzical glance. "Why me?"
"You have a history with the target." She shuffled some of the photos, flicking them aside until exposing the one she wanted. Her eyes met mine. "You and Maxine got close at one time, didn't you?"
My entire body stiffened when I looked at the snapshot. Maxine Winters. It had to be her. All the time and effort I'd put into forgetting about our time in the Academy amounted to nothing, destroyed by a single glance at her photograph. She looked the same: slim-faced with dark hair, somber eyes, and bow-shaped lips.
Natalie's tone was so casual that if I didn't know any better, I'd swear she didn't care. But I did know better, so I kept my face expressionless and my voice neutral when I responded.
"We were on the same squad in the Academy. Worked well together, made a good team. Haven't thought about her since we graduated. What's she been doing?"
"Collaborating with the enemy, or so we suspect."
I blinked. "What?"
I woke up disoriented, unsure of who or where I was. I'd been prone to memories slipping into my dreams, flashes of times before New Haven when I was the worst kind of man: an HSSC agent working hand-in-hand with Natalie, the worst kind of woman. I always woke up from those dreams with my heart pounding as if I'd run a marathon, my body drenched in flop sweat.
It took a few seconds to recognize my surroundings. Once a shameless luxe suite with all the lavish trimmings, I stripped it down to perfectly minimal style and furnishings with more bed than anything else: massive mattress on a low foundation against a cushioned headboard that stretched to the ceiling. The rest of the room was polished hardwood floors and furniture of steel and oak.
When I sat up, my wrist snagged, pulling my arm back. Looking down, I saw the handcuff securing me to the rung on the headboard. I grinned at Electra's parting gift, reaching for the key under the mattress. Her scent was still on the sheets, but she disappeared with the sunrise. No surprise there—no promises, no expectations was our agreement. When I freed myself, I caught the blinking message on the holoband around my wrist.
IT'S PODDAR. WE NEED TO MEET
A positioning point accompanied the note. I stared at the pulsing characters for a long time, knowing what they meant for me, but at the same time knowing exactly what I was gonna do. Maybe it was like everyone said: I was fooling myself if I thought I could just ride off into the sunset. Happy endings didn't exist for guys like me. Karma just didn't work that way.
I spoke into my holoband. "Gonna need a lift up front, Max."
"On my way, Mr. Trubble."
Dressing quickly, I slung my flogger on and snatched up my Bogart, tilting it on my head just the way I liked it before stepping into the private lift. It smoothly dropped to the vacant front office. After scanning the zones for evil eyes, I stepped outside into the familiar clamor and smog of New Haven.
The Gaiden was surrounded by the Downtown metropolis: megastructures towering high enough to create their own weather. The crisscrossing bridges created a latticework that cast web-like shadows across the surface of the streets far below. The air was a foul gray color, humid despite the drizzle that felt more like sweat than anything else.
I lit a gasper and listened to the morning bustle: skimmers whipped by on the streets, soundless on hover repulsors, and wheelers nearly as quiet, fusion motors humming as they passed. Air traffic streaked by overhead: sleek metallic insects flitted from one location to another while airbuses and zeppelins drifted along like flying whales. Sunlight was scarce, peeking through the rare gaps between buildings. Artificial light made up for the lack — hovering orb lamps, streetlights, and holographic billboards that brazenly displayed every sort of advertisement in eye-searing clarity. One of them flashed a message in big, bold red letters.
WA
KE
UP
Don't believe the lies.
Know your power.
Vote for truth.
Vote Matthew Finn for Mayor.
I grinned, shaking my head as Maxine pulled up to the curb, beaded water drops sliding down her alloyed curves. Beetle-black paint, long hood, sweeping fenders that nearly hid the tires, and a massive, shield-shaped front grille of gleaming chrome. A lotta people would kill for a ride that that. I knew because I did.
The name came from an old flame, someone I'd only recently rediscovered through memory flashbacks. When I christened the ride, I didn't have a clue where the name came from. Since the recollection, I felt a little guilty about calling a car after a dame I was in love with. I didn't change it, though. You can only name an inanimate object once: rules of the game.
When I slid into the front seat, the suicide doors hissed shut, sealing me in as the seat and climate controls automatically adjusted, and the positioning point synched from my holoband to Maxine's GPS. The location appeared on the heads-up display.
I glanced at the destination. "Huh. The Gardens."
I leaned back, letting Maxine handle the route in autodrive mode. The last time I'd been in the Gardens was on a missing child case: Mamie Mannering, who had been kidnapped by an insane Defrost called the Pan, who tried to use the blood of children to achieve eternal youth. A pretty dismal scenario, but at least I got to Mamie in time. Hopefully she'd be able to overcome the trauma of the experience, but I knew more than most folks that childhood scars brand you for the rest of your life.