The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

“Thanks, Cat.” I drained the last of my coffee, then dumped everything in the auto wash and headed back upstairs. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, and this time nothing and no one disturbed me.

I woke to insistent buzzing. I blinked, trying to place the noise and not having much success.

“Cat? Bear? Everything all right out there?”

They both whisked in, neither of them in any way alarmed, which in turn had me relaxing. Whatever the noise was, it obviously wasn’t any sort of threat.

The comms unit buzzes, Bear said. Charles’s face appears on it. He looks increasingly unhappy.

“How often has he rung?”

This is the fifth time this morning, Cat said.

He seems very determined to talk to you, Bear added.

“That he does.”

Are you going to talk to him or continue to ignore him? Cat asked curiously.

“I’ll talk to him, but not immediately.”

In fact, I needed to do a whole lot more than talk, if only because I needed to know what had gone on between him and Dream when they’d both left the apartment. I just couldn’t be seen forgiving him too easily. That would only confirm Dream’s suspicions about me.

I slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom to check the state of my various wounds. For the most part they’d healed without leaving a mark, but—as I feared—the entry point for the wooden bullet was a somewhat puckered mess. I narrowed my gaze, imagined it smoothed out, and reached for the shifting magic. My shoulder tingled, and the flesh instantly began to rearrange and to some extent smooth out, but the scar still remained visible. It might be little more than a white blob, but that would be enough to stir Charles’s curiosity, given how intimately he now knew Catherine’s body.

I tried to erase the mark a second time, but once again failed. It seemed I was stuck with it.

The incessant buzzing stopped. I took a shower, got dressed, and then headed down to grab something to eat. I’d barely finished my omelet when the nearby comms unit came alive and Charles’s face once again appeared. This time, I answered.

“Charles,” I greeted, voice cool. “What can I do for you?”

“I ring to beg forgiveness for my invasion of your privacy.” Though his tone was contrite, there was an odd gleam in his eyes. It was both regretful and angry, which was rather odd. But maybe he simply didn’t like being forced into making an apology. Many of the shifters I’d encountered in the past had been like that—they saw it as an affront to their pride, for some weird reason. “Though it came from a place of genuine concern, I can understand why you were so angry.”

“I woke up to a gun being pointed at my face,” I replied evenly. “That’s not exactly something anyone wants to experience in their own home, Charles.”

“I know, but Karlinda insisted she accompany me and I couldn’t refuse.” He paused, and half shrugged. “I have let her know how unacceptable the whole situation was. If you wish to lodge a formal complaint, I will not gainsay you.”

“That is very kind of you.”

My tone was sarcastic, but his expression suggested he didn’t catch it. “Can I take you out to dinner as an apology?”

I hesitated. While the need to catch Dream and put a final end to her machinations was a pulse growing ever stronger, there was also a deepening urge for caution. The suicide of the soldier Jonas had been questioning suggested Dream’s net was not only wide, but also very loyal, and we needed to find and destroy all its tentacles just as much as we needed to stop the woman who controlled it. Because some of those tentacles had to be working within the power grid—why else would Penny have mentioned the lights going down if Dream hadn’t found some means of making it happen?

Nuri—or rather, her kin, given she was still considered an outcast in this city and, as such, had limitations on what she could and couldn’t do—might be working to expose all of Dream’s agents, but they needed time.

And that, I feared, was the one thing none of us really had.

Still... only fools rushed in, as the old saying went.

“You can,” I replied. “But not tonight. I’m still very upset at you, Charles, and would not be pleasant company, I’m afraid.”

Frustration and anger momentarily flitted across his face before he got it under control, and instinct stirred. Had Dream asked him to give me a more thorough examination? It was a distinct possibility, especially given Jonas’s earlier warning that Charles was, above all else, a government man. He had no idea Dream had usurped the chancellor’s identity, and he’d admitted that he did not have the power—or, I suspected, the will—to go against her.

If that was the case, then I’d have to keep my wits about me, and simply use my seeking skills via touch rather than anything deeper. I couldn’t completely erase the scar in my shoulder, and Dream would undoubtedly know its cause.

“Tomorrow then,” he said, tone conciliatory despite the frustrated gleam in his eyes. “Shall we meet at Zendigah’s at, say, seven?”

Zendigah’s was an upmarket restaurant on Second, and a favorite of Charles’s. It was also well frequented, which at least offered some protection against anything untoward happening while we there.