City of Light (Outcast 1)

“Unlikely,” Jonas growled. His voice was deep, rich, and oddly melodious, despite the anger within it. I doubted he’d originated from anywhere around here, as those from both Central and Chaos seemed to have a more guttural edge. “There were many rumors during the war about déchet who bore neither the marks nor the scent of their kind.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And there were just as many rumors stating they could fly and walk through walls. Neither of those were true, from what I’ve read. Besides, didn’t your lot ensure all remaining déchet were obliterated after the war?”

“And yet you apparently live in the remains of one of their major bases,” Nuri noted. “And wear the military uniform of the déchet.”

“I live in a couple of rooms, one of which is a storeroom containing—among other things—tons of uniforms,” I corrected. “Last I heard, that wasn’t a crime.”

“It is when you’re carrying weapons not seen since the war,” Jonas growled. “And you’re using tunnels that were supposed to be blocked.”

“The main entrances are blocked,” I replied, with a calm I certainly wasn’t feeling. Despite his nonchalance, it was obvious he wanted to fight—wanted to attack—and the strength of that desire was so strong it rolled across my skin like a heated caress. And there was a tiny, insane part of me that wished—longed—for that caress to be real rather than mere emotion. “As I said, there are only a couple of usable areas.”

“Not according to Penny,” he said.

“Penny’s a child. I wouldn’t take everything she says as gospel.”

“Penny’s not what—”

“Jonas, enough,” Nuri cut in softly, making me wonder just what the shifter had been about to reveal.

I shifted my gaze to her. “I’m not a déchet, but whether you choose to believe that is entirely up to you.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Wipe your cheek.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You could have checked my cheek when I was unconscious.”

“We tried.” Levity briefly touched her voice. “But I’m afraid your ghosts were rather reluctant to let us close to you.”

Then how in hell had they gotten me into the cell? Magic? I eyed Nuri for a moment, suspecting that might well be possible.

Thank you for trying, little ones, I said, then scraped the end of my sleeve across my cheek as ordered. There was no identifying bar code hidden by face paint, nothing inked into my skin or under it. Our creators had been well aware that their seducers and assassins needed to be totally unidentifiable by normal déchet means.

Nuri frowned. “Nothing. And yet—”

“Nothing obvious,” the shifter cut in, “but that doesn’t prove anything. Penny isn’t often wrong.”

He uncrossed his arms and revealed a small silver cylinder. I couldn’t help a mental snort. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had access to wartime technology. That cylinder produced a spectrum of light similar to ultraviolet, and it was the only light that could reveal the tattoo inked into the cheekbones of soldier déchet.

He flicked it on. The light hit my cheek, caressing my skin with its cold heat. Had I possessed any more vampire than I did, it would have burned.

Something flickered in the shifter’s eyes—disappointment mixed with frustration, perhaps.

“So,” Nuri said, snapping my attention away from Jonas. “It would seem you aren’t a déchet.”

“As I believe I’ve already said,” I replied. “But I’m guessing the revelation of that fact doesn’t mean you’ll actually let me go.”

r /> Amusement briefly crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Well, not yet, but only because I believe you might be able to help us.”

“I’ve helped you already, and look where it’s gotten me.” My gaze flicked back to Jonas. “I should have let the vampires tear you apart, shifter.”

His expression hardened, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because I promised Penny I wouldn’t.”

“As you so aptly pointed out not so long ago, Penny’s a child. You could have easily taken her and left me to die.”

“No, I couldn’t—”

“Because of that promise,” Nuri said softly, “and because you could not bear to see another child die.”