Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

My energy and my aura merged with his, entwining as intimately as our bodies were now entwined. Emotions and thought became something I could see and taste, memories something I could raid. I ran swiftly through the surface images, sensing in them utter delight and monstrous need. It really had been a long time since he was with a woman.

I plunged deeper, seeking hidden recesses and pockets of memories. Saw, in rapid succession, fragmented images of the past week—his actions, the projects he was working on, the financial problems he was dealing with, as well as those who worked under him. I dove deeper still, looking for information on the man who ran Winter Halo, and caught a name—Rath Winter. An image rose, one that matched what the ghosts had already given me. And with it came a sense of frustration; whatever Rath Winter had Charles doing right now, Charles wasn’t happy with it.

I wanted to chase those emotions down and try to find out why, but I refrained. Cats tended to be a little more sensitive to such intrusions than other shifters, so it was always better to access information over a period of sessions than to attempt to gather it all at one time.

I slowly—carefully—withdrew. As awareness of the here and now resurfaced, I reimmersed myself into the sensations flooding my body. Became aware of his hands on my hips, holding me down, and his teeth as he alternately grazed and then suckled my breasts. Became aware of his groans as his body became more demanding and desperate.

I rode him harder and harder, until his roar of completeness echoed in the stillness as his seed pumped deep inside me.

For several seconds neither of us moved. Then I leaned forward and kissed him gently. “That was very pleasant indeed.”

He chuckled softly and touched a hand to my cheek, running a thumb across my lips. “And that was most definitely an understatement.”

“Perhaps.” I slid to one side and ran a finger down his chest. “So, are you the type of gentleman who hustles a lady out the door once he’s had his wicked way with her, or are you the sort who provides breakfast?”

“Definitely the latter if the lady is willing.”

“The lady is most definitely willing.” I let my fingers trail across his flaccid cock. It jumped lightly in response. Charles might be a centenarian with an unadventurous bent when it came to lovemaking, but he certainly wasn’t lacking in sexual stamina. “Especially since I’d really love to try out that bath of yours.”

He laughed and immediately got off the bed. In very little time, we were ensconced in hot, bubbly water and drinking cognac.

I’d certainly had worse assignments in the past.

* * *

Charles was as good as his word and made breakfast while I took a shower. I left with a promise to meet him again tomorrow night. While I would have preferred to attempt a second reading of him tonight, I needed to get a new identity in place—one that matched the name I’d given him.

Unfortunately, the only person who could provide that was Nuri. I might have wanted to avoid getting involved with them again, but if it meant getting the information I needed to free those children, then I would.

I walked along Second Street until I found a walkway leading to Victory Street, the only street that ran in a direct line between Central’s two gates. The walkway was empty, so I quickly wrapped a light shield around my body. The last thing I needed was anyone spotting me moving toward Chaos in this form. It probably would have been better to simply change back to my natural body, but it would also be a waste of energy. I’d have to change back again for Nuri to readjust the information in my newly acquired RFID chip, so it was better to stay as I was.

I headed north down Victory and eventually reached the huge gatehouse. The ends of the silver curtain that Central used in pla

ce of the more conventional portcullis had been drawn up for the day’s exodus, and the drawbridge was almost lowered. I held back, waiting until the bridge was down and most of the crowd had flowed across, then followed them out. The sensors fitted into the thick metal walls didn’t react to my presence, though they would have had there been more vampire in my DNA. It had taken ten years to completely rebuild Central, and by then not only had all the HDP bases been well and truly destroyed, but the déchet population and all those who had created and looked after us had been decimated. It had never occurred to anyone that someone might have survived such destruction, so they never built that possibility into their security systems—an oversight I was extremely grateful for. Feeding myself would have been far more problematic had I not been able to make regular raids into Central.

Once I was beyond the rail yards and out of sight, I released the shield and silently called for Cat and Bear. I might have to go into Chaos to get what I needed, but I had no desire to go in alone.

As I walked up the hill toward the ramshackle community, my two ghosts zipped around me, excitedly filling me in on the morning’s events. Apparently, the engineers were back, trying to decide whether the museum was worth salvaging or not. The other little ones were having great fun moving their equipment around.

The metal containers that made up most of Chaos’s ground level soon came into view. They were garishly decorated and basically supported the weight of the ten levels above them. They were used as shops, factories, and trading posts, and were only now finding life thanks to the fact that the sun had fully risen. The inhabitants of Chaos might show little concern about the vampires, but they didn’t invite trouble, either. When dusk returned, all those who worked here would retreat upward, and all ladders and stairs would be either drawn up or locked down. It didn’t often help, but the illusion of safety was better than nothing, I suppose. As I walked through the six-foot gap that was the designated entrance into this side of Chaos, the shadows closed in and the fear of being caged—of having no room and no air—swiftly followed. I swallowed heavily and forced my feet on, hitching up the ends of my tunic as I splashed through water that was thick and oily while trying to avoid the muck that dripped steadily from above. Rubbish lay in gathering drifts, emitting a stench that was a putrid mix of rotting fish and human waste. Central did provide a degree of medical, water, and sanitation support to Chaos, but just about everything else was acquired via theft or trading. Only those who lived in the upper portions of Chaos had the money to purchase anything.

I climbed the first staircase and moved on swiftly through the next couple of levels. As usual, Cat kept close, but Bear scouted ahead, checking everyone out. Just as those people we could see—and undoubtedly the ones we couldn’t—were checking me out. My fingers itched with the need for a gun, but it was probably just as well I didn’t have one. Nuri lived in the middle of the mercenary district, and mercenaries tended to be trigger-happy at the best of times. While I had no doubt she’d have sent out word to let me pass unhindered, I wasn’t about to trust everyone in the district to obey her. She might be a powerful witch, and she might be someone most of them respected, but they were still mercenaries—and that made them untrustworthy in my book.

I eventually made it to Run Turk Alley and once again had to weave my way through the maze of extended legs and dark gazes of the men who lounged there. Nuri’s building was a construction of wood and metal coated with years of grime, graffiti, and advertising posters. It was also three times the size of the other buildings in the alley, and even had several windows along its frontage—all of which were barred.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The ghosts zipped ahead of me to check the room, their energy a mix of excitement and tension. The first time we’d walked into this place I’d been darted with Iruakandji—a drug that had been developed in the latter part of war by the HDP, but one that had only been used on a couple of occasions. While it did kill shifters with great alacrity, it had proven extremely unviable as a weapon thanks to the discovery that it was also deadly to déchet, no matter how little shifter blood they had in them. The fact that I’d survived the darting was due in no small part to my immunity to all known toxins and poisons.

The main room was all but empty. Two sturdy-looking men stood at an old wooden bar to my right, nursing drinks that looked too dark to be regular beer. There was no one sitting at the odd selection of tables directly in front, and booths to my left were also empty. The bartender was a woman I didn’t recognize.

Her gaze scanned me critically. Deciding whether I was a potential threat, I suspected. Eventually, she said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Nuri.”

“She expecting you?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “More than likely.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, then motioned with her chin to the rear of the building. “She’s out back.”