Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, then pulled myself up. Central stretched before me, bright and quiet. While there were guards stationed atop the drawbridge, they only ever did full patrols of the main wall if the vampires were notably active. The UVs had long ago been protected from any sort of weaponry taking them out, and as far as I knew, the last of the bombs had been destroyed at the war’s end. None had been made since. No one wanted to take the risk, given the number of rifts already rolling across the landscape.

The guards would, however, come investigating if they happened to spot me walking about the top of the wall, especially when said walls were off-limits to the general population. Which meant I needed to protect myself from casual scrutiny, and that meant wrapping a light shield around myself. It was harder to do at night, when there was no sunshine to draw in, but there was enough light coming from the UVs to make a good second option.

I took a deep breath, then called to the heat and energy radiating off the lights, drawing it deep into my body in much the same manner as I drew in the darkness. Brightness flowed into every muscle, every fiber, until my entire being burned with the force of it. I imagined that force wrapping around me, forming a shield through which none could see. Energy stirred as motes of light began to dance both through and around me, joining and growing, until they’d formed the barrier I was imagining. To the outside world, I no longer existed. The light that now played through me would act like a one-way mirror, reflecting all that was around me while allowing no one to see past it.

I finally looked down, searching for a way off this wall. Old Stan’s—the place Nuri had arranged for me to stay while I was here in Central—was only a few buildings away to my left, but it probably wasn’t wise to go anywhere near that inn right now. I might be wearing a very different form from any of those I’d used when I was there, but Sal had known I’d been staying there. If his partners weren’t cross-checking the identity of everyone who used the place, I’d be very surprised.

I padded along the wall, looking for a building tall enough to provide a dropping-down point. I might have a tiger’s sure-footedness, but I also had that stupid fear of heights to contend with.

A

s I moved farther away from the inn and the ramshackle collection of buildings that represented the market section, the buildings that hugged the wall grew ever taller and I soon found a drop that was only a couple of floors. I took another of those deep breaths that did little to calm the butterflies and irrational fears, and jumped down. I landed safely, my fingers barely brushing the rooftop as I steadied myself, then continued on down, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until I reached a building that provided a one-story drop to street level.

Once I’d checked that no one was watching, I released the shield. As the motes of lights danced around me and faded away, dizziness hit, a warning that while I might be physically healed, my strength still wasn’t up to par. I waited until it passed, then quickly altered my appearance. With that done, I made my way along Twelfth Street until I found one of the cross streets that allowed people to walk from one sector to the next. As was the case with most, this one was a three-meter-wide canyon between two high-rise buildings bathed in UV light.

Winter Halo was easy enough to find. It was a glass-fronted ten-story building situated not far away from Ruby’s, the lovely restaurant Sal had taken me to. I paused briefly, studying Winter Halo through its reflection in the windows of the building opposite. Two silver-clad, orange-haired women guarded the front entrance and there were security cameras situated on each corner. Plenty of people were exiting the building, but none was the man I was after. I waited several more seconds, then moved on before I began to attract attention.

How was I going to find out whether Keller had left or not? I could hardly question the guards—that would only raise suspicion. Besides, their rather stern and unhappy expressions were enough to put me off approaching them. My only other option was questioning someone once they’d left the building.

I crossed the street again and waited in the doorway of a place not far away. A random assortment of people continued to go in and out of Winter Halo, but I was looking for someone who had a more authoritative air about him—someone who might have a higher level of knowledge about the company than a mere office worker.

About ten minutes later, a white-suited, rather distinguished-looking gentleman with silvery hair exited the building and began walking toward me. Not only was he talking into the comm on his wrist and paying scant attention to where he was going, but he was also a shifter—a cat of some kind, if the scent I was picking up was anything to go by. It made him the perfect target.

I briefly closed my eyes and began to flood the air with pheromones. While for most this was an automatic attraction response, we lures had been designed to seduce. I could not only release pheromones at will, but also increase or decrease the potency of them, depending on how fiercely I needed my target to be attracted.

Of course, my control wasn’t so absolute that I could totally override instinct. My attraction to Jonas was evidence enough of that.

In this particular case, however, I just needed his interest at a level where he wouldn’t immediately question my actions, but not so much so that he could think of nothing more than bedding me.

I flexed my fingers in an attempt to ease the gathering tension, and when he was almost level with the doorway in which I stood, I stepped out and cannoned into him. I hit with enough force to send us both tumbling, but his arms automatically went around me, cushioning my fall even as we hit the pavement.

“Oh Rhea, I’m sorry,” I said, even as I wrapped my fingers around his arm and opened the floodgates on my seeker skills.

Seeking wasn’t telepathy—we couldn’t directly read thoughts; we simply picked up a mix of emotion and mental images and made judgments from those. My skills were more honed to bedroom use, but I could still snatch information from something as simple as a touch if I went into the process with one single question that needed answering rather than multiple.

In this case, that question was Nadel Keller—was he still in the building or had he left? Images began to flit through my mind—images that involved the stranger’s most recent actions and the people he’d talked to. Seeking answers through touch like this was often hit-and-miss, even if the information I was after was simple.

“It was entirely my fault,” he replied. “I was too busy booking my table for the evening to be watching where I was going.”

His voice was husky, his body responding to both my closeness and the pheromones I was outputting.

I rolled to one side but kept a light touch on his arm as he sat upright. His gaze skimmed my length, then settled on my legs—specifically, the amount of thigh the split in my tunic was revealing.

“I guess that means we’re both at fault,” I said. “As I wasn’t watching, either.”

The images kept on flowing, diving deeper into the day’s actions, continuing to provide glimpses of those he’d interacted with. So far, there was no sign of Keller.

“A gentleman should nevertheless do his utmost to avoid crashing into a lady. And I do apologize.”

He climbed to his feet. The abrupt disconnection had my mind reeling.

I made a show of trying to get up, then collapsed with a slight wince of pain and began rubbing my ankle.

Concern immediately touched his expression. “You’re hurt? Shall I call medical?”

“No, I’m sure I just landed weirdly. If you could just help me up . . .” I gave him a wide smile and held out my hand.

He gripped it. The minute our hands touched, my seeker skills flashed into overdrive. Images spun through me, but Keller’s profile was noticeably absent. Either this man didn’t know him or their paths hadn’t crossed that day.