Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

Jonas nodded and walked over to the door. Nuri grabbed my hand, preventing me from following. Energy surged, running up my arm like an electric charge. But it didn’t feel like she was attempting to read me, nor did it appear she was using magic on me, as she had done with Sharran. It was more an injection, one that made my body hum with renewed vigor. And one that, if the sudden pallor of her skin was anything to go by, left her feeling a whole lot poorer.

“Do not waste time if you get into Winter Halo’s inner sanctum.” Her voice was soft. Distant. “Your time there will be short.”

A chill ran through me, but before I could say anything, she blinked and released me. “But time is short all round when it comes to saving those children. Go.”

I hesitated, then left. Jonas switched off the lights as I neared the door and then forced it open just enough for me to squeeze through.

“Be careful,” he said. “And watch your back. Especially around Charles.”

I paused and glanced back at him. “Why?”

“Because his allegiances, like most of the gentry, lie with the government, and he will report any suspicions he might have about you to those in charge.”

“If he had any suspicions, I would have sensed them.”

“Perhaps, but as you said yourself, seeking isn’t an exact science,

even for one such as you.”

A smile tugged my lips. “There’s nothing quite like having your own words used against you. But I’ll be careful.” I hesitated, then added, “Thanks.”

He nodded and closed the door. I turned and hurried toward Central. I still had two hours before I needed to report to Winter Halo, but I wanted to get to Sharran’s place on Twelfth and familiarize myself with her surroundings first.

Cat and Bear came with me. While I was generally reluctant to put them in the way of danger, they could go places in Winter Halo that I could not. And if Nuri was right—if my time there was going to be fleeting, for whatever reason—then maybe my two little ghosts could uncover the truth about the place. And that just might be the difference between rescuing the missing children and not.

Once I reached the wall, I shifted shape to take on Sharran’s appearance and scent, then reclaimed my vampire form and surged up the wall. When the light spilling over the wall from the nearby towers began to chase the shadows away, Bear grabbed me and boosted me up the final few meters. I landed on the wall in a half crouch and quickly concealed my presence with a light shield.

This time I headed right, closer to the drawbridge rather than away from it. Sharran’s place was a small, three-story concrete structure that would have sat in the deep shadows of the gate if this place had such things. I jumped down to its rooftop, then lowered myself over the edge and—after a deep breath to calm the irrational fears that immediately resurfaced at the thought of a three-story drop—let go. I landed in the small walkway between Sharran’s building and the next, my fingers brushing the pavement to steady myself. I quickly checked for cameras—although it was unlikely anyone would place them in a back alley like this; hell, I’d never even seen them in the main street in all the years I’d been coming to Twelfth.

There were a couple of windows on the building to my right, but Cat and Bear—anticipating my needs—checked them. No one was watching, in either of the nearby buildings or the one directly across the street.

I released the sun shield and strode toward Twelfth Street. Though there were plenty of people still out on the street, no one paid any attention to me. I ran up the three steps to Sharran’s apartment building, swiped my left wrist across the scanner, and then pushed the door open. The foyer inside was basic, and smelled faintly of age and mold. The flooring was some sort of plastic that squeaked underfoot and the walls a grimy gray. There was an old-fashioned tenant directory directly opposite the entrance, a metal staircase that had definitely seen better days, and two doors. Sharran’s apartment—1B—was the one on the left.

I repeated the scanner process and entered the room—and there was only one. It held little more than a single bed, the oldest autocook I’d seen in Central so far, and a curtained-off area that turned out to be the bathroom. Above the air shower was a smallish window; I slid it open, peered out, and saw the walkway I’d just left. Which meant I had a second exit, and didn’t have to risk leaving this place via the front door in any identity other than Sharran’s.

Her tunics and coats were hanging from a rail that had been attached to the wall to the right of her bed, and the rest of her clothes were neatly folded into the small shelf unit underneath it. I walked over and lightly sniffed some of them, double-checking that the scent I was now using did indeed match the one lingering on the material.

Bear’s energy lightly brushed my arm. Can we explore the rest of the building?

“Yes, but no trouble-causing.”

Their amusement spun around me as they headed back out. I stripped, donned one of Sharran’s tunics, then reached for a matching pair of brown boots. The material in both was scratchy and somewhat unpleasant, and made me realize just how lucky I’d been to have a store filled with old uniforms in the bunker.

Cat and Bear returned, and were decidedly unimpressed by our new abode. I grinned. “We won’t be staying here much, never fear.”

I grabbed Sharran’s pack from the end of her bed, shoved in a coat, and then headed out again. High above me the stars were out, but I couldn’t see them thanks to the glare of the UV lights.

I slung the pack over one shoulder and wound my way through the various walkways, heading for Sixth Street and Winter Halo. Bear scouted ahead, but Cat once again kept fairly close. Despite the excitement of new adventures, she really didn’t like Central any more than I did.

As we approached Winter Halo, my gaze slid up its glass front and my steps slowed as trepidation surged.

It wasn’t fear. Or, at least, it wasn’t fear for my own safety, but rather that of the missing children. Nuri had already warned that the children’s time was short. One misstep within this place, however minor, might well spell the end for them.

And yet if I didn’t take that risk, we might never find them. Might never rescue them.

You are not alone, Cat said. Not this time.

No, I wasn’t. I took a deep breath, pushed away the trepidation and the glimmers of intuition that said trouble would come a-hunting, and strode toward Winter Halo.