Crimson City Part 8

both headed for the door. Fleur looked up. It was getting quite light out. Still...

"Would you like me to walk you home?" she asked. "It's dangerous out there."

Dain grinned and played along with her joke. "Sure. I'll even let you tuck me in if you want."

She gave him a look. "In your dreams."

"There, too."

Fleur stopped in her tracks. "What do you think you're trying to do? Go down this path at your own

risk."

She'd been joking, mostly, trying to needle him, but Dain's arms came up around her and Fleur felt a sudden shift in the intensity of the moment as his fingers brushed her arms. But he only slipped his jacket from her shoulders. Their eyes met, and she saw reflected in his face the same conflicting emotions she felt.

"Actually, my car's right there. I'll just... head back alone," he said. He turned abruptly away.

You're scared of me, Dain Reston. You don't trust yourself. That truth surprised her. The balance of power between them was still up for grabs, and neither of them knew what to do next.

Fleur watched him walk to his transport and disappear inside, all the while wishing against all common sense that he'd kissed her.

Chapter Eleven.

With his hands full, Dain kicked on the side of the car to alert Cyd, who reached across and opened the door for him. He handed over two coffees, removed a bag of doughnuts from between his teeth and tossed it inside.

"It's never a good sign when it's this late in the shift and you're just now buying the joe and doughs," she said.

"Did you hit Santa Monica Boulevard on your rounds?"

Cyd rustled around in the doughnut bag for her favorite-white frosting with multi-colored sprinkles.

"Unh-uh."

"They're back."

She looked up.

"They weren't all there yesterday, but on the way in this evening I noticed them going up."

"The lampposts? The ones from before the truce?"

"Yeah." Dain took a sip of coffee, wincing as it burned the tip of his tongue. On the way to the sta-tion

he'd noticed a sudden increase in the number of black lampposts along the major avenues of the city.

They'd been removed after the last truce went into effect; the electrical bills had been crippling. "Let's go see," Cyd said, reaching for his coffee cup. Dain handed it over and started up the transport. He took a shortcut through some minor streets, then routed over to Santa Monica Boulevard and found a place to park where they could get a clear view of the work crews that had started construction. A section of normal lampposts had been removed and the new ones were already starting to go in.

The lampposts' bulbs could switch three ways: regular light, night-vision green, and UV. The lights could sweep up vertically, or out horizontally. The purpose of the UV was to keep the vampires off the main streets and away from humans. To a certain extent they also restricted airs.p.a.ce at lower levels, a detail guaranteed to draw some flak.

Cyd ate her doughnut, her brow furrowing; she was probably running through the same thought processes Dain had. "Did you hear the sirens earlier?" she asked.

"Yep."

"c.r.a.p. Did someone accidentally trip a switch?"

"Nope. They're testing the emergency warning system."

"Ah. Awful nice of the pols to give the general human populace in this town an idea of when to duck and cover. Don't want the dogs or the fangs getting a drop on us. Still... d.a.m.n sirens give me a migraine."

Dain chuckled. "Yeah, and we have more to look forward to."

"Wow. So we're really preparing." After a moment of silence, she looked over at Dain. "What exactly are we preparing for?"

"I wish I knew."

Cyd did a double take. "We're preparing for what might be an attack, and you don't know anything about the specifics?"

Dain's jaw tightened. "That's pretty much it." And it was d.a.m.ned disconcerting to have to admit. Nothing had been in his inbox; nothing had filtered down through channels. He made another mental note to ask Kippenham about any other intended defensive implementations. This kind of infrastructure hadn't been up since the first battle between the species. At the height of that war, all of the main thoroughfares in the city had been lined with these posts.

He glanced over at Cyd. "Seriously, if I knew anything about it, I'd tell you. The fact that I don't bugs me. On a couple of different levels."

She grimaced. "You worried? About your own situation, I mean."

Dain adjusted his seat and tried to get comfortable. "It's weird. I hadn't really thought about it, but Kipp hasn't invited me to any meetings of the bra.s.s in a long time. Weeks. Out on the base or at the station. In fact, since the last time I saw him and he gave me the go-ahead to work with Fleur, I haven't heard anything from him at all. It's hard to believe there's not something going on that I should know about." He gestured to the lampposts. "For example."

Cyd gave him a sympathetic look. "It's probably not as bad as you think. You know how I-Ops gets when there's the slightest implication the dogs or vamps are on the move. They get paranoid and start closing off avenues of information. Maybe it'll all just blow over."

"I don't think so," Dain said. "They used to offer me a transfer and a promotion what seemed like every month. I'm not hearing much of that anymore."

"You never took it," she hissed. "They probably figured out you don't want it. You wouldn't leave B-Ops to go work out on the base."

The row of new lampposts suddenly flipped on. Dain and Cyd looked at each other.

"The fangs are not going to like this," Cyd said.

"No question. Not only are they not going to like it, but I doubt they will just stand by and watch."

"No way," Cyd agreed. "And if they figure out where we're probably going, we're going to have serious, serious trouble."

Both Dain and Cyd knew where the humans were probably going: full implementation of the Preemptive Defense Initiative. The lampposts were just a precursor to the crown jewel of PDI; in the hills by the Hollywood sign there were still the casings and fittings for suspension strobes, remote-controlled beams that swept higher and farther out than any before. These beams could reach the vampire strata high above and make it difficult-if not deadly-to fly.

At this point, Dain wouldn't be surprised to hear that those mechanisms were undergoing an upgrade. And if that's where the bra.s.s was going with this, they were whipping up a recipe for chaos with a side dish of inevitability.

But it wasn't too late to stop these escalations. Dain glanced over at Cyd. "Speaking of the fangs..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like to put Fleur in contact with one of your dogs."

Cyd stared at him and then burst out in peals of loud, overly dramatic laughter.

Dain sighed heavily. He hadn't expected her to be happy about his request; h.e.l.l, he had reservations, himself. The two species were like oil and water.

"I'm serious," he said. "Can you please set it up?"

"Absolutely not," Cyd answered calmly, sticking her feet up on the dashboard. "I'm not taking a vampire in to meet one of my werewolf informants. That's asking too much."

"Watch the power pack there," Dain warned.

Cyd shifted her feet slightly to one side.

"It's in the interest of peace," Dain argued. "I think an exception could be made."

"Vampires and werewolves do not mix. I don't think there's any such thing as an exception," Cyd said.

The two societies were very different, Dain had to admit. And the wolves would zag if the vamps zigged, just to show them they could. Still, this seemed like a good way to get a sense of Fleur and her situation.

He tried again. "She just wants to talk."

"Tell her we can't always have what we want. I don't put my informants in situations where they can be identified later and killed. It's irresponsible at best. The answer is no." "Well, I'm asking you to do it. Me, your partner." Cyd slowly tilted her head, giving him a look that implied he was missing more than just a few brain cells.

"My partner, eh? It's a dumb idea. So dumb, in fact, that I'm embarra.s.sed on your behalf for asking." "Okay, I'm not actually asking," he said. Cyd's eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that look. You owe me enough not to give me trouble on this." "For what?" "You know for what. For yesterday. And other days." She quickly looked away and then shrugged. "It was just Bridget. n.o.body else saw me. I wasn't that bad." Dain cleared his throat and shifted his weight in the car seat. He felt a moment of guilt for trying to bully her. "Do you... uh... want to talk about it?" "Do I want to talk about it?" Cyd asked incredulously. "What is this, The Caring-Sharing Hour? Man.

What the h.e.l.l did Fleur Dumont do to you? Where's the old Dain I used to know?" He shook his head. "Maybe you could tell me," he said. "Because I still have no idea." She stared at him, and then suddenly her face relaxed and she managed a lopsided grin. "Sorry. Geez.

I'm sorry. Things have been getting so d.a.m.n tense in this town, I was beginning to forget we were on the same side." When Cyd smiled for real, it was contagious and you could see a glimpse of what Dain liked to think of as her potential. The person she could be if she could ever outrun her ghosts.

"You've got to watch it, though," he warned. The bra.s.s didn't like jumpy agents-saw them as liabilities. Ill She knew what he meant and just stared out the windshield. Suddenly, she blurted, "I can't stop." Dain froze, surprised, his coffee cup poised in mid-air. She turned and looked him in the eye. "Thanks for putting up with me." He laughed and put his cup down. "Thanks for putting up with me." He wanted to lighten the mood. Cyd curled her hand and gently b.u.mped his fist with hers. "Partner." Then she pulled away, clearing her throat and making a show of rummaging in the bag at her feet. She pulled out a box of candy cigarettes.

"Care for a smoke?" He laughed again. "Sure." He broke the cigarette in half and popped the pieces in his mouth. "Oh, s.h.i.t. Is this going to turn my tongue blue?"

"Who's going to see it except me and maybe- wait a minute. Do you think the boss is booting you from the inner circle specifically because of Fleur?"

"I don't know. He knew my plan to work closely with her from the start. I think he suggested it. If he had issues, he would have said something, maybe ordered me to try something else."

She pantomimed taking in smoke, then fake-exhaled. "Maybe he can tell it's inevitable."

"I don't like the word 'inevitable.' What's inevitable?" Dain snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"We already had one argument about her this morning. Let's not go there again."

"What's inevitable?"

Cyd looked at her watch. "Oops, gotta run. Time to follow up on the world's dumbest meeting." She opened the car door and hopped out, slamming it behind her. Then she went and tapped on the window.

Dain rolled his eyes but hit the switch.

Cyd leaned in through the window. "I hope she's worth it. A vampire like that could really mess up a guy's-"

He hit the switch again and Cyd had to step back to avoid getting her head cut off. She blew him an exaggerated kiss, stuck out her very blue tongue, and took off in the direction of the underground.

d.a.m.n Cyd. She knew him too well. Fleur Dumont did something to him. He'd wanted to kiss her last night. h.e.l.l, he'd wanted to kiss her since the night they met. He couldn't remember being so drawn to someone... though of course he must have been to his wife.

After the accident, Dain had sat with Kippenham and asked him to tell what he remembered about Serena. It was one of those strange moments, one of those rare male bonding moments that never gets referred to again. Kipp had held Serena's picture and described her as sweetness with a hint of the Devil inside. For hours, he'd sat and answered every question Dain asked, told him everything he knew about the wife Dain couldn't remember. It was one reason Dain wouldn't listen to anybody talk down about Kipp, why he wouldn't partic.i.p.ate in those water-cooler grumblings about the boss.

Sweetness with the Devil inside. Fleur was more like the Devil with sweetness inside. A reverse image. It was a little disturbing, knowing how this vampire intrigued him. But maybe Fleur brought a little bit of Serena back to him. Or maybe, if he were honest with himself, he would admit that this woman, this dark princess, touched him more than the memory of his wife.

Disgusting, Dain.

It had only been two years since the accident and Serena's death. That hardly seemed enough time to give him license to compare his dead wife to someone else and find her wanting. Man. How could he think this way? He shook his head, the usual pangs of guilt stifling his thoughts. It wasn't his fault he couldn't remember much. It was an accident. He just had to try and remember that this wasn't his fault. Serena wouldn't blame him for wanting to move on. Not under the circ.u.mstances. Would she?

Dain stared out the window at the empty streets. It was dead quiet, but he wasn't surprised to see so few people around, of any species. The vampires were occupied with a meeting of the Primary a.s.sembly, and most of the dogs were still doing their best to stay low, probably in the hope that the vamps and the humans would kill each other off all on their own.

Well, the humans seemed to be prepping for racial quarantine, and Dain had seen how the level of fear and paranoia amongst them was ramping up big time.

He got out of the car and stretched his legs, jogging over to the beginning of the boulevard to the first lamppost to see if he could find any sort of work order that would indicate who'd authorized the job. A taped-on piece of paper flapped against the metal. Dain reached out to have a look. And then he heard the sound of something in flight.

He stepped full under the glare of the lamp and hit a switch to activate the UV, figuring that if it were an enemy vampire, it wouldn't want to come any closer. It would be limited to shooting him. Not a totally comforting thought, but better than being bitten and sucked dry.

Of course from under the light, he couldn't see a d.a.m.n thing. He pulled his gun from its holster and brought it up. "What do you want?" he called out. His words seemed to echo down the boulevard, the loneliest sound imaginable. A gust of wind sent a chill down the back of his shirt and he knew he was in trouble.

Dain swung his gun to and fro almost helplessly, pacing beneath the lamppost and trapped in its white-light prison. He could feel from the gusting air that whoever was there was just beyond the light. His adrenaline spiked. He fumbled instinctively for his comm pack, then remembered he'd left it in the car. "Here's the thing: This bulb's UV. You come after me and both us could end up dead. That's just stupid."

He didn't quite get the answer he wanted. Beyond the light, something moved, and suddenly an intense beam of light streamed straight into the bulb above Dain's head. The filament in the bulb expanded and flared, then changed color from UV violet to a dull orange.

Dain just stared. This had to be some new kind of weapon the fangs had developed. Fair enough. If his people were again implementing the use of these lampposts, it was only fair that the vampires had developed and were using something that had the potential to counteract them. Dain could see the gla.s.s bulb pulsing and stretching and burning, a popping and hissing sound coming from the mutating orb. The material used in these bulbs was supposed to be indestructible, but whatever the vampire used, it had a capability Dain had never before seen on the streets.