Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

I settled onto the warm tiles and began the deep-breathing exercises that would sink me into the healing state. Thanks to my sheer exhaustion, it took a while, but it eventually happened.

I have no idea how long it took, but when I eventually climbed back to full consciousness, there was still a cacophony of noise coming from the other room. I stood and scanned my body in the mirror opposite. My skin was free of wounds; only the one on my wrist—an old wound caused by the vampires ripping through my body when I’d been shadowed—remained. Obviously, the atoms that had been torn away couldn’t fully be replaced. I guessed I had to be thankful they hadn’t hit somewhere more obvious.

I hadn’t really taken much notice of the clothes I’d stolen—size and shape hardly mattered when I could change either at will—and they turned out to be a larger fit than my natural size. I shifted shape so it matched what was on my RFID chip, changed my scent to a softer, sweeter one, then slipped on the silvery blue, corsetlike top and the soft, swirly skirt. Charles, I thought, with an amused glance at the mirror, would certainly approve—especially the corset portion of the outfit, given it revealed an impressive amount of breast.

I slipped on the sandals, then carefully opened the door again. My host was still sle

eping, but the snores had eased off—probably because he was now sleeping on his side rather than his back. I padded across the room and hit the button to open the door. He stirred, but I was out in the corridor and heading for the lift long before he woke. If he was waking, that is.

I strode back out into the street and then hesitated. High above, the night skies were giving way to flags of pink and gold, which meant the drawbridge would still be locked down for the night. There was an inordinate number of people about given the early hour, and many of the shops were open. The corps and the guards were also still out, and they appeared to be checking everyone’s IDs.

It was tempting to swing right and head down the nearest cross street, but that might not be the best move right now. I had no doubt the corps were active throughout the city, and while it was unlikely they’d check the ID of every single person living in this place, they really didn’t have to. Not when they had hound shifters within the corps.

I scanned the street a final time, spotted an open café a few doors down, and walked over. A silver-clad, silver-haired woman greeted me serenely and showed me to a table near the window, then handed me a menu once I was seated. The prices, I noted wryly, were a tad higher than those on Twelfth Street. But then, I was undoubtedly paying for location as much as for the plush and comfortable surrounds.

I ordered bacon and eggs on toast, as well as black coffee, then leaned on my arms and watched the proceedings up the street. The corps had reached the retail sector and were moving from building to building; in each case, two men remained outside while two others went in. It didn’t take them long to reach the café. Tension wound through me as they stepped inside, but I forced myself to ignore them and relax, and smiled up at the hostess as she brought my meal over.

The two corps officers moved to the back of the café, one of them stepping into the kitchen, the other remaining outside. His gaze swept the room and his nostrils flared. Hound, I thought, momentarily meeting his gaze and giving him a brief smile. He didn’t return it.

I tucked in to my meal but could barely even taste it. Every sense I had was locked on to the two men who were now moving from table to table, checking everyone’s RFID chips. Thank Rhea I’d taken the time to change my looks and my scent, both in the basement and up in the apartment.

They eventually reached my table. I glanced up and flashed them a warm smile. “Morning, Officers. How can I help you?”

“We’re conducting an RFID check,” one said, his voice gruff, no-nonsense. “Please present.”

I raised my right wrist. The second man no longer watched me; I’d obviously passed the scent test. The scanner was held over my wrist for several seconds and then the guard checked the screen and grunted.

“All good,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

The two guards checked the remaining patrons, then moved out and on to the next building. I released a long, slow breath and leaned back in my chair. I’d done it. I’d escaped. Rhea was obviously as desperate as the rest of us to rescue those children; it was the only way to explain my near-miraculous escapes of late.

“Everything all right?” the hostess asked, pausing briefly at my table. “Would you like more coffee? Or perhaps some additional toast?”

“Both would be great, thanks.”

I might have healed myself, but I needed to top up the reserves, and the best way of doing that was with food.

It was a good hour later by the time I stepped out of the café. The sun had well and truly risen and there were even more people out on the street, all moving with a serene grace I wished I could echo. I headed for the nearest cross street and walked down to Third. I was in the area, so I might as well familiarize myself with the apartment Nuri had found me.

It was, as she’d said, close to the wall end of Second, not far away from the drawbridge. Like most of the apartment buildings on this street, it was twenty floors high, but extremely thin, and sandwiched by the two buildings on either side of it. The door was print-coded. I hesitated, crossed mental fingers, and then placed my fingers on the scanner. Blue light ran across my hand length, and then the screen beeped and flipped over, revealing a keypad. I typed in the security code Nuri had given me, and after a heartbeat a green light flashed and the door opened.

The foyer beyond, like the building itself, was tiny but plushly decorated in gold and plum tones. There was no guard—a good thing, given I’d supposedly been staying here for weeks. The lift doors opened as I walked toward it and a metallic voice asked for my floor number.

“Seven, please.”

The doors closed and the lift zoomed me up to my destination. I stepped into the carpeted corridor and paused, looking right and left. There were only two apartments here, which I guessed wasn’t surprising, given the width of the place. The one I was after was at the front of the building.

I once again pressed my fingers against the scanner, then punched in the security code. The door slid open, revealing a room that was a combination living and kitchen area. Despite the narrowness of the building, the entire place was bright and spacious—a feeling undoubtedly helped by the mezzanine level stopping well short of the double-height windows, enabling them to flood the room with light. Once again white was the dominant theme in the room, but there were at least splashes of bright color in both the cushions that lined the L-shaped sofa and the sunset pictures that lined the wall.

A circular chrome-and-glass stair was tucked into the corner to my right. I went up and discovered two bedrooms and a bathroom. Neither of them was huge—in fact, there was very little in the way of maneuvering room either side of the bed. I slid open one of the wardrobe doors and discovered an assortment of neatly stacked clothes, all of them silver. I tugged out one of the tunics; it was far too small to fit my new identity, so this room obviously wasn’t mine. I put the tunic back and headed into the other bedroom. It was basically a mirror image of the first, but the silk sheets were a rose rather than silver color, and the clothes in the wardrobe were a range of soft pastels as well as the requisite silver. It made me wonder if Charles preferred his women in items that bore a slight blush of color.

The bathroom was small but perfectly formed, containing not only a shower and a glass sink, but also a hip bath. Water obviously wasn’t so much a concern in this part of Central—or maybe it was simply a matter of the people here being willing to pay the exorbitant prices for a little bit of luxury. I walked back down the stairs, then across to the windows. The view was nowhere near as dramatic as Charles’s, but I did at least have a reasonable view down Third to the drawbridge. It was open, but there was little point of heading back home if the museum was once again filled with people.

I called Cat and Bear, then crossed my arms and leaned a shoulder against the window, enjoying the early-morning warmth. When my two ghosts arrived, they were bursting with news and excitement. Nuri had apparently managed to disengage the wall—not the entire thing, but enough that she, Jonas, and the ghosts could get inside. And while Nuri hadn’t been able to destroy the false rift, she had moved it into the center of the square, away from the resting place of the Carleen ghosts.

Which was a surprising move. While it meant the ghosts would no longer suffer the agony of having their bones stained by the evil that resided within the false rift, there was still the evil of the wall to contend with, and I suspected its unhealthy darkness would do far more damage to the ghosts’ bones than the rift it protected.