Crimson City Part 22

Super-friendly, Trask gave a wave. "Hey, Jill!" JB called.

Jill's heart was pounding. "Hi, guys," she replied.

"Whatcha doing out here?" They'd come right up to her. She shivered a little but covered it with a shrug.

"Just on a.s.signment. The usual."

JB tipped his head to the side. "You don't have your camera." He sighed heavily. "Come on. You know why we're here. Just give us the stuff and we'll give you a ride back in a nice warm car. It'll all end fine."

"No."

Trask sniffled and rubbed his nose. "What exactly is on it, anyway?"

"Didn't they tell you?" Jill asked.

JB elbowed his partner in what was clearly an effort to keep him quiet. "Aw, Jill. Let's cut the c.r.a.p. If we're here, somebody besides you already knows what's in that box. You know we don't want to hurt you. I'm serious. I don't like this business. I don't like having to mess with people I consider pals. But I have orders to get those sticks. So hand over the G.o.dd.a.m.n things and we can all get the h.e.l.l out of here."

He grabbed her, his fingers clamping painfully around her wrist. Jill winced but held the box be-hind her back with her other arm. It was ridiculous; they were right-if they were here, someone knew what she'd printed. "JB, let go of me."

"Dammit, Jill! Don't make me do this." He swore a couple more times as they struggled. Trask came at her from the other side and the two men, clearly not wanting to hurt her if they could avoid it, engaged in an awkward dance to try to get her prize. It was like the childhood game of keep-away.

Trask was newer and a bit of a wildcard, but Jill knew JB well enough to know he wasn't enjoying this. Finally Trask just reached out and shoved her against the bridge rail, drawing his arm back to clock her. She tried to run, but Trask caught her shirt from behind and she went flying onto her hands and knees, the contents of her box spilling all over the concrete.

"JB, get the stuff!" Trask called. JB gave him a furious look, but he started collecting the sticks as his partner put his knee on Jill's back and pressed her down against the ground.

She winced as the dirt and gravel pressed into her banged-up knees. They had her and she was done. Sorry, Dain. I tried. "You can take your G.o.dd.a.m.n hands off me now," she growled. She looked over her shoulder at Trash just in time to see Marius Du-mont come out of nowhere to land behind him.

Mesmerized by the intensity of the vampire's expression as he pulled Trask off her and smashed his fist into the B-Operative's face, it took her a moment to realize that if she didn't do something, this rescue could have deadlier consequences than anyone wanted. As Marius c.o.c.ked his fist again, Jillian scrambled to her feet. "Stop! Stop it!" she cried.

Marius froze, his arm suspended in midair. Trask's lip had begun to bleed.

"Let him go... for my sake," Jillian said. She looked at JB, who was just standing there with the box of memory sticks. "Get him out of here," she said.

JB rushed up and threw Trask's arm over his shoulder when Marius released it. He gave Jill a grateful look and, with the box and Trask, took off into the night.

Jill looked back at Marius and followed his stare to the blood and dirt on her knees. She hurt like h.e.l.l, but she'd stopped thinking about that. But the vampire was fixated. He moved in close and Jill took a sudden breath, remembering all over again what this man made her feel every time he so much as touched her cheek.

To her surprise, he lifted her up and sat her on the ca.n.a.l rail and started picking the gravel out of her knees. The more he touched her, the more she felt like she might faint into the water below.

"Marius, enough," she managed to say. "I can't stand it anymore."

He thought she meant the pain. He set her back on her feet, letting her lean against him for support. The blood from her cuts was still on his fingertips; she was certain he could smell it, for he tipped her head back and ran his mouth along her throat. The dangerous sensation of his fangs delicately grazing her skin set her body on fire, and the desire building within her was more intense than anything she'd ever experienced. When he pulled his mouth away and looked deep into her eyes, Jill would have given him anything he asked for.

"Oh, G.o.d," he murmured. "Why do I let you do this to me?"

"Do this to you?" she asked.

In a gorgeous mix of awe and desire, he raised his hand to her forehead and delicately swept his fingers over her eyelids. Suddenly drowsy, Jill pressed her cheek against his chest and let herself collapse in his arms.

When she woke, she was at home, in bed. Her coat and purse were laid neatly over the sitting chair in her bedroom, her knees were bandaged, and a vision of Marius Dumont was all that remained of her wonderful dream.

And then she remembered, it hadn't been a dream. And it hadn't all been wonderful. Jill eased herself off the bed and limped to her purse. She grabbed her cell phone and headed back to the bed, already dialing. Curling up in a ball on the covers, Jill closed her eyes and swiped at her runny nose.

"Answer your d.a.m.n phone, Dain," she begged. "It's an emergency."

Wherever you are, get away from your people immediately. Your life depends on it. 20,36, Strata-1.

Dain hung up on Jill Cooper's text message, nearly dropping his comm on the ground as he broke out in a cold sweat. He was in line at Chick-O-Wich in the east quarter, and JB idled in the car outside. The whole thing was surreal. Swap Cyd for JB and everything would seem an ordinary day before the a.s.sa.s.sinations.

He stared into the dull eyes of a tattooed server wearing an incongruously jaunty white paper hat, and ordered lunch. He paid, then walked casually toward the restrooms as his order was being processed. Pushing open the garish red, yellow, and blue striped door, he stepped inside. A glance down told him the three stalls were empty, and the medium-sized window above the sink told him he had a decent chance of not dying in a fast-food restroom.

He took his shirt off, wrapped it around his fist, then gave the window three quick shots to take out the majority of the gla.s.s. The shards tinkled down the wall outside to the ground, and Dain popped out the remaining pieces and climbed up on the sink, slipping as the old equipment pulled away from the wall. He caught himself in time and heaved his body up and through the opening.

A street punk hanging out on the fire escape next door raised a lazy hand in greeting; Dain nodded back and jumped to street level, heading away from Chick-O-Wich, JB, and unfortunately, his car. He paused long enough to buy a cheap trench coat and a Dodgers cap from a street vendor, then headed for the opening to the underground below the Indiana Gold Line. Down the narrow tunnel he went once more, to Dogtown, his sungla.s.ses already on night vision. There Dain checked his position and looked around at the crowd. Jill had sent him nearby coordinates.

He forced himself to relax, casually walking down the length of the platform and sitting down on the closest bench to a bored-looking brunette.

"It's me," she said.

Dain nearly jumped out his skin. He looked at the brunette and frowned. "It's me." She moved her sungla.s.ses down her nose so he could see her eyes, and Jill Cooper blinkedback at him. She looked like, if she'd slept at all in the last twenty-four hours, it had been badly. She evenwore colored contacts beneath the gla.s.ses, but he recognized her now that she'd shown herself.

"You've got to be kidding me, Jill. How much TV do you watch?"

"Well, you didn't recognize me."

"Fair enough. What am I doing here?"

"You're a marked man, Dain. Your bosses are looking for a fall guy and you're at the top of the list.

Worse, I've given them photographic proof."

"Start from the beginning."

She took a deep breath and obliged. When she was done explaining, she apologized up and down for

the photos. He appreciated the sentiment and the warning, but they both knew she'd just been doing her job. A kiss wasn't much to get excited about these days, but it helped tell a story. Trouble was, Jill had provided his bosses with evidence that allowed them to build any number of stories. All of them put Dain in an unsanctioned alliance with vampires while holding a top-security position with B-Ops.

Dain just sat, watching the dogs exit and enter the subway cars, watching life go on around him. "If I told you that I didn't feel human anymore, would that make any sense to you?" he asked.

"Not really." Jill paused and then added, "Unless you've been made a fang or a dog. Have you?"

"No.

"And it's more than the fact that my own side might want me dead. I'm just not part of anything anymore.

I don't feel the way I used to. I don't feel any kinship. I just feel like I... like I've been fed a load of c.r.a.p."

Jill nodded. "Dain, do you think your bosses had Cyd killed?"

His gaze locked on hers. "What do you know?"

"Nothing about that. I swear. It's just an idea. I just wonder if it's coincidence that out of all the people

working B-Ops, you two-partners-were both somehow..."

"Marked?"

"Yeah."

"What do you know, Jill?"

"Like I said, nothing. But I get a lot of dirt from a lot of different sources, and I can't help wondering."

"Why call me, then? If I'm in trouble, you'll be in trouble just for helping me."

She gave him a coquettish grin. "Even soul-suckers like us journalists have a code. Besides, at the end of

the day, I'm expecting you to give me the exclusive."

"If I'm still alive," Dain said darkly.

"Why do you think I just told you what I told you?" Jill asked. "The bad news is that you're compromised, and a suspect for trading top-secret information. The good news is that you're so compromised, you probably have nothing to lose by digging into what's really going on. You can stop this frame-job and ma.s.sacre before it happens."

"I didn't realize you had a soft spot for vampires."

Jill blinked, a slow flush crawling over her cheeks. "I don't, really. It's just wrong what we humans are doing. We'll be back to open season soon. How could anybody want that?"

"You might ask Kippenham that," Dain said.

"I prefer to keep my distance from him," she replied.

The whistle sounded from a new train coming down the tunnel. Dain looked at Jill, but she was staring forward, reapplying lipstick that didn't need reapplying in the tiny mirror of her compact.

"What happened to the opportunistic tabloid journalist I once knew?" he asked.

The corners of Jill's mouth curved up in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Oh, she's still here, don't you worry. I'll never really be a saint as long as good copy's on the line."

"You've got a good heart, Jillian Cooper."

Her hand stilled. "Well, don't tell anybody-I've got a reputation to uphold. And you'll be p.i.s.sed off at me again soon enough, when things are back to normal." She put the lipstick back in her purse. "I've told you everything I'm going to tell you. What you plan next is not something I want to know about."

Her hand slid over his, which lay facedown on the bench. He took her hand and they exchanged a squeeze. "Good luck," she said, standing up and brushing off the back of her coat. The subway car slid to a halt and the double doors running alongside slid open. Then Jill Cooper stepped inside and didn't look back until the doors had closed. Suddenly she looked over her shoulder at him, as if she realized this might be the last time they would ever meet.

Dain smiled back at her until the subway sped away, then he let the smile leach from his face.

He waited for the next train to come, took the line to Wilshire and Vermont, transferred, and finally joined those heading aboveground on the escalators, all the while doing his best to blend in. As he hit street level, he flipped his collar up and shrank into his coat. He spent five minutes walking toward his apartment before he realized that was not where he wanted to be and changed course toward Dumont Towers.

Halfway there, Dain sensed he was being followed. He picked up his pace, first to a brisk walk, then to a jog... and then he looked behind him. Trask and JB weren't even trying to hide. This wasn't recon-they intended to take him out.

He started to run, hoping to lose them on Wilshire Boulevard, but he knew that the two operatives had an advantage over him at ground level no matter which street he chose. He was better acquainted with strata +1 than they, and that was his best chance.

As he ran down the boulevard with his own men on his heels, he scanned the line of high-rises along Wilshire, trying to identify his best option. He could hear JB and Trask shouting to each other, and that was all he needed to spur him on. He cut away from Wilshire, chose a target building, then sprinted into the underground parking lot and out the back where he found the fire escape. He launched himself at the metal ladder and shimmied up as fast as he could, taking the metal steps two at a time in a cacophony of tinny music.

Below, JB and Trask shouted more directions at each other, then started up the ladder behind him.

Dain kept his focus forward until he finally reached rooftop, panting and sweating. He ran across the roof and jumped to an adjacent rooftop. He hit the gravel with a fair amount of distance from the edge to spare, but a huge wolflike dog on the far side killed any joy he might have felt. Was it a werewolf?

"Where the h.e.l.l did you come from?" he said. The dog covered the distance between them in record time, digging his teeth into Dain's pant leg, one incisor catching the flesh of his ankle. Dain yelped in pain as he hit the ground. But he quickly got to his hands and knees, dragging the dog with him across the rooftop as he tried to get away.

"Who are you working for? Do you know Cyd? Cydney Brighton?" Dain gasped in pain as the dog clamped down. "She's my friend... she's tight with you guys." This was insane. It had come to this: Humans talking to dogs, unsure if they were werewolves.

Dain shook his head. Paranoia was catching up with him. And so were his men. His old teammates, because there was no longer any reason to deny that Dain didn't belong to any group anymore. A rooftop chase kind of made that official.

As he struggled with the animal, Dain saw two hands curl over the edge of the first fire escape. He heard JB call to Trask for a boost. With every bit of strength he could muster, Dain twisted his body and kicked out with his free leg. He struck the dog in the face and the animal finally let go.

"Sorry," he mumbled. As the dog regained its footing and gave its head a shake, Dain stood up, raced to the edge of the rooftop and took a flying leap. He could hear the dog barking behind him as he flailed through the air. He caught the lip of the next building with his upper body, his legs smashing down against steel and concrete.

Knuckles sc.r.a.ped and bleeding, Dain practically clawed his way over the edge to safety. His lungs were on fire, his knees were like jelly, and he was d.a.m.ned lucky this was a case of life or death, because under ordinary circ.u.mstances he might not have had it in him to keep going. But he had to keep on running, because he knew that if they caught him, there would be no turning back. He'd have to pay for something he couldn't even quite articulate. He'd have to pay for the crime of not exhibiting blind loyalty.

He could see Dumont Towers a city block away, now, even less if he crossed diagonally. He knew what he had to do. He knew what he wanted to do. If loving Fleur was the crime they'd make him pay for, he was all too happy to provide them with more evidence. He would go to her. He'd rather spend eternity with her as a bloodsucker than even one more day without her as a human. He started running.

The sound of JB and Trask landing on the very same gravel roof came much too soon. They were younger and faster than he. Dain glanced over his shoulder, looked JB right in the eyes and let adrenaline take over. As his old teammates climbed to their feet and started toward him, Dain backed up to the ledge on the far side of the current rooftop and teetered there, a hair's breadth from plunging to his death. JB and Trask froze, and Dain let them fear the worst.

Dumont Towers was kitty-corner now. He waited a few seconds for a skyadvert to pa.s.s by, jumped for it, rolled off the side and grabbed onto one of its fins. Trask swore, and the two B-Ops men ran to the edge of the building.

The skyadvert surged wildly, unable to handle Dain's weight. He must have jolted its projector device, because an entire night's worth of adverts were scrolling at breakneck speed right into his eyes and beyond him over the building. An explosion of rainbow colors issued from the machine as Dain careened unevenly away from Trask and JB toward Dumont Towers.