Страница 43 из 71
His jaw set. "Do you truly wish to know?"
I nodded. "I do."
He shrugged, clasping his hands behind his back. "My opinion? He wants you far too badly to give you up to this Family," he said. "All the same, it would be foolish to trust him."
"If he wants me so much, why did he leave me?" I flared, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"It seems we must discover this," he answered. "Do you care for him, then?"
"I used to," I said, opening my eyes and looking down at my free hand, clenched in a fist. "I'm not so sure now."
"Then do not decide yet," was his equable reply. But his face was full of something dark. I didn't want to know.
It was my turn to shrug. "You have agents in the city, you said."
He nodded. "They are already searching for information. Quietly, so as not to alert our quarry."
"That's good." My conscience pricked me. But that was ridiculous. He was a demon. He wasn't human. He wasn't even close to human. "Hey… you know, I…" Was I blushing? I was. Why?
I don't have time for this.
I approached him cautiously, laid my hand on his shoulder. His smell closed around me, vaguely comforting. "Thank you," I said, tilting my head back to look up into his face. "Really. I really… well, thank you."
One corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. It was by far the most human expression I had ever seen on him. "No thanks necessary," he said quietly. "It is my honor."
"Do you really think I can kill Santino?" I asked.
His face changed. "We have no choice, either way. I will do all I can to protect you, Dante."
"Good enough." I dropped my hand. "Let's go find our first contact."
CHAPTER 32
The police net plug-in gave me a current map of the city and tag-locations of landmarks loaded from my dat-band to my datpilot; the DOC told me who was in town. It wasn't too hard to find a familiar face. Whatever city Captain Jack was infesting, he always hung out near the prostitutes.
We visited five bordellos before we hit paydirt. I sca
"As you like." He shadowed me as I crossed the street. We ended up on the doorstep, two Nuevo Rio prostitutes eyeing us. They made no move to stop me as I strode past them. The heavies guarding the door—two rippling masses of black-market augmentation—examined me, looked at the demon, and stepped back.
It was kind of useful, having Japhrimel around.
Inside, the place was done in threadbare red velvet, waves of perfume and hash smoke, naked women pressed against lace, offering their breasts and other things. One bronzed Nuevo Rio man, reclining on an overdone mahogany and black satin couch with a guitar in his supple hands, plucked out a mellow tune—an accompaniment to the girls' blandishments. Two customers, neither of them Jack, stared at me with wide eyes. Seeing a fully clothed woman carrying a sword in a Nuevo Rio bordello must be a huge shock.
I sca
The madam came fluttering out in a pink synthsilk robe, a tall and heavily lipsticked woman, her thi
At least being a Necromance had saved me from being a sex worker.
She fired a chattering stream of Portogueso at us, and Japhrimel answered her with a few curt words. She paled, and he held out two folded notes—Nuevo Rio paper. Currency for those without datbands.
She snatched the notes from his hand and leered at me. I turned my cheek so my emerald sparked at her, and she almost fell over backward in her haste to get away. If the Nuevo Rios were easier with Shamans and demons and loa, they were even more frightened of Necromances. They had old legends here of the spirits that walked in Death and the humans that could talk to them—while Shamans were mostly acceptable, a Necromance definitely was not.
I took the stairs two at a time, following the pattern of instinct, intuition, and Power. A long hall, some open doors with women standing in them, their usual catcalls dying on their lips as I came into sight; other doors were closed, the reek of sex and hash in the air thick enough to cut. I tapped in, shaping the Power deftly, and by the time I smacked the door open and came face-to-face with a half-naked and disgruntled Captain Jack I was all but humming with invisible force. Any more and I'd go nova. It alerted him to my presence, of course, but by then it was too late for him.
"Hesu Christos—" he began, and I was on him, driving him to the floor, my sword within easy reach. I had him in an armlock. Japhrimel hushed the naked, screaming girl on the bed by the simple expedient of clapping a hand over her mouth. He dragged her to the door and tossed her out, then tossed a few more Nuevo Rio notes after her. How much money does he have? I thought, and leaned into the armlock.
Captain Jack, weedy from hash overuse, his ribs standing out, still possessed a great deal of wiry strength. I was actively sweating by the time he finished cursing and heaving, his sweat-slick skin sliding under my fingers. He'd gotten old. His dreadlocked brown hair was streaked with gray, bits of glittering circuit-wire wrapped around dreads and twisted into runic shapes, dusty from the plank flooring. He called me something filthy. I got my knee in his back and applied a little pressure. He settled down a little.
"What the motherfucking hell do you want?" he snarled. The demon, his face expressionless, leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest.
"What I always want, Jack. To see your sweet face," I leaned over and purred in his ear. "Taking a vacation from Saint City, pirate? I'm on a legitimate hunt and you've got warrants. If you don't want your ass hauled in and cored in a Nuevo Rio prison, you might want to consider being a little more polite."
"Bitch," he hissed. His long thin nose pressed into the dusty planks; spittle formed on his thin lips. He'd pawned his golden earring, I saw it was missing. The tattoos on his shoulderblades—twin dragons, with no significance or Power—writhed on his skin. He was a bottom-feeder, with only enough psi to avoid being taken into wage slavery, not enough to qualify for a trade or even as a breeder. "Whafuck? Don't got nothing on you, I ain't seen you in years—"
"It's not me I'm asking about," I said quietly. "I want to know why Jace Monroe blew into town three years ago. Give, Jack, or I'll break your fucking arm and haul you in, I swear I will."
He believed me. "Christos," he moaned. "All I know's Jace was in the Corvins… bought himself out six months ago, foughta ru
"Sekhmet sa'es," I breathed. "And? Why did he come here? There must be rumors."
"Corvins made him a deal: Either he come in or they ice some bitch he was seeing. Lay off, willya? You're breakin my fuckin arm!"
"I'll break more than that if you keep whining. Who's he working for now?"
"You! Goddammit, woman, he's working for you! That's the word! Let up a little, come on, Valentine, don't!"