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The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

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I ran toward the curtain wall end of the Fourth Street until I was close to where it intersected with Victory, and then paused, leaning against the wall of the building, my breath a harsh rasp and my body a quivering, aching mess.

Several people gave me disparaging looks, but none of them said anything. After a minute or so, a woman strode to the door of the nearby doorway and brushed her RFID chip across the scanner. As the door opened, I moved up behind her, pressed my gun against her spine, and said, “Don’t make a sound and keep on walking. If you do anything else, I’ll shoot you. Under

stand?”

She made a small sound in the back of her throat, but kept on walking. Thankfully, there was no one in the foyer and the elevator was already open and waiting.

“What floor do you live on?” I asked.

“Nine.”

The elevator immediately responded, and we were soon moving upward at a rapid rate. When the doors again opened, I directed her out into the corridor and then stopped. “Where is the fire escape?”

“To the left.” Her reply was little more than a squeak.

“And your apartment?”

“Right.”

The stink of her fear increased. No doubt she was imagining all sorts of horror endings, and part of me hated that I was frightening her so much. But this really was a case of life and death, and right now compassion was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

“Can you access the fire escape?”

She nodded. I pushed her left and we strode down the curving hallway. A green-and-white exit sign soon came into view, but even as we approached, the door opposite opened and a tall man stepped out.

“Meagan,” he said, but his welcoming smile quickly faded as he took in the situation. “What the fuck is going on?”

I raised the gun and pointed it at him. “Step back into your apartment and lock the damn door.”

He immediately did so. I stopped the woman in front of the scanner and told her to open the door. Once she’d obeyed, I said, “Now run back to your apartment as fast as you can.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her expression a mix of disbelief, hope, and even more horror. I realized then she was afraid I was going to shoot her in the back.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said. “I just want to get onto the roof. So go.”

She did so, almost reluctantly at first, and then faster. As she disappeared around the corridor’s sweeping curve, I stepped inside the stairwell, shot out the scanner, and then ran up toward the rooftop as fast as I could. Which in all truth wasn’t that fast.

I didn’t immediately exit, though. Instead, I cracked open the door and scanned the nearby area. The rooftop was a maze of light towers, solar panels, the various bits of comms equipment that sprouted like weeds on every rooftop in the city, and aircon units. Thankfully, there was no indication that anyone was up here.

I opened the door a little wider and studied the curtain wall. Fourth Street was still a long way from it, but I had no intention of either trying to reach it or going over it. Not tonight anyway.

There was no alarm sounding, and the casual manner in which the guards strolled along the top of the wall suggested they hadn’t yet received any advice to be on guard.

I stepped out onto the rooftop and moved across to the street side of the building, using all the paraphernalia on the roof to hide behind. I had no doubt that both Meagan and the man I’d threatened were currently in the process of contacting corps. I needed to get out of this area, but I also needed them to believe that I’d jumped from this building to the one directly opposite. They might not believe it for long, but by then, the scent trail should have gone cold.

I grabbed my knife, made a small cut on my left palm, and smeared some blood across the parapet. It was a dangerous ploy given a sample could be taken and tested, and while that alone wouldn’t reveal my déchet origins, it would nevertheless unveil a number of inconsistencies when compared to the information on my—or rather, Catherine’s—RFID chip. And as second-in-command of Home Defense, it would be easy enough for Hedda Lang to access that information. But I was right out of other options. The wound healed almost as soon as I’d finished. Despite the weariness throbbing through me, my body still had some reserves left. Either that, or I was recharging far faster than I ever had.

I hoped it was the latter, because I was in serious need of that sort of luck right now.

I took a deep breath and then reached for the light shield again. It flickered and pulsed around me, coming into being almost reluctantly, but eventually did solidify. Once all light had been cut out, I became shadow.

It was never going to last long, but it didn’t really need to. I made my way back to the rooftop of my building, found the exhaust vent outlet, and then slipped down into it. Finding my apartment took three tries, and I’d barely made it inside when my strength gave out and I crashed to the floor of the shower. The water immediately came on full force, and my resulting groan was one of both pleasure and pain. The hot water soothed the aches, but the jets were so strong that even through my clothes it stung my abused body. I didn’t move for too many vital seconds but eventually pushed myself upright and stripped off so I could wash away the rest of the blood, grime, and sweat. Once I was dry, I gathered my clothes and hid them—along with most of my weapons—in the rear of the other bedroom’s wardrobe. A quick look at the intercom in the hall revealed it was empty. It was damn lucky I’d encountered them in the street rather than here, in the apartment building. Dream might suspect my Catherine persona, but she would have had proof positive if they’d been standing at my door as I’d come out of the elevator.

But the fact she wasn’t here now didn’t mean she soon wouldn’t be.

Which meant I not only needed to protect myself from her magic but heal as fast as possible. In my current condition, a three-year-old could probably beat me senseless.

I walked into my bedroom and retrieved two of the charms Cat and Bear had hidden, and slipped them over my hands. Energy briefly stirred the small hairs on my arms, and I hoped it meant they were both active. I’d be in serious trouble if they weren’t.



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