Saint City Sinners

What would I do? "I'm waiting," I reminded him, my voice full of sharp edges. I saw him wince and took another look at him.

Anubis et'her ka. He's a psion.

Not enough for schooling or accreditation, but he had a little shine to his aura, and the clear edges of his personal Power field told me he meditated regularly. Whatever small psionic potential he had, he took good care of it. "That's why Eddie would work with you," I realized out loud. "You're a psion."

"A little bit. Four point three on the Revised Matheson, not even worth teaching."

I nodded. He'd just missed being taken into the Hegemony schools for training; a five on the scale gets you into the program. It wasn't quite legal to think maybe he'd been lucky. "Must be a real asset when dealing with us freakheads." My tone was still sharp and cool. I didn't sound human at all.

His cheeks flushed; a faint blush high on the arc of the bones just like a girl. "Not really."

I guess not. Normals might not trust you if they knew, and we don't trust you either since you're not trained. You're not in either world, are you?

The chilling thought that I wasn't in either world too-not a demon, not truly human, in-between, stuck-made the last few flickering vestiges of killing rage die back. They went hard, tearing at my throat and eyes, but finally left only a black aching hole in my chest. I leaned against the door and met his eyes, the tattoo on my cheek burning.

"Dante Valentine." He lingered over my last name. "Named for a saint whose day became a celebration of fertility and romantic love. Born in a Hegemony hospital, father unknown, mother's name erased under the Falrile Privacy Act. Rated thirty-eight on the Revised Matheson scale, attended primary schooling at Rigger Hall. Attended the Amadeus Academy, graduated with honors and went straight into apparitions. Made your reputation while still in school by raising Saint Crowley the Magi from dust. Also made another type of reputation when you entered the mercenary field under the direction of a Mob Shaman turned freelancer-"

"Stop it." If he said Jace's name I was going to draw my sword. Not because I was angry, but because I didn't think I could stand to hear this polished little god of a man use his mouth on Jason Monroe's name. "Stop."

He stared at me. We were even, I suppose. Maybe he wanted to kill me too, his almond-shaped eyes narrowing and burning with something too complex to be hatred and too frightened to be loathing.

"I've done my research," he said. "Eddie mentioned your name when things started to get too deep. Then I found myself with a mystery in front of me, a dead fucking Skinlin, and my name on a hit list."

I folded my arms again, dug my fingernails in. "Eddie found a cure for Chill. And the shock troops chasing me with the cops were corporate crack-squadders." I drew in a slow, soft breath, my hands squeezing. Warm blood trickled down my arms, dropped off my elbows, and plinked on the floor. "Pico-Phize troops."

"No." He shook his head. His eyes locked with mine, maybe pleading with me to believe him. "Probably Herborne Corp. They work with alkaloids, they're one of our biggest competitors in the painblocker field. We were infiltrated. I believe it was routine corporate espionage, but one of the agents happened to… find out. But there's something else. The Pico lab security was taken out by a focused EMP pulse-"

"So was Gabe," I said, but he overrode me, shouting because my voice had risen too. The room groaned under the rough lash of Power in my tone, but his next words cut through mine.

"It was Saint City Police Department tech!" he yelled, and I slumped back against the door. I don't think I've ever been reduced to speechlessness from rage so quickly before.

Say what? I replayed mental footage, decided that he had said what I thought I'd heard. Saint City Police Department tech. What the fucking hell?

Massadie knew he had my attention now. "There is a fuck of a lot of Chill money that goes to the cops, Miss Valentine." His tone was soft, reasonable, and utterly truthful. "Not just from routine payoffs but in other ways. Herborne found out what we had and leveraged every contact it had inside the police force, I'd guess. They're scrambling to keep this quiet. You're creating a lot of trouble for them, and they need to shut you up just like they needed to shut Eddie's wife up. She made it goddamn hard for them, yapping at the heels of the IA division about where the Skinlin was getting all the trouble from. It wasn't the first time they tried to kill him."

Not the first time? Oh, Gabe. Eddie. Gods forgive me. "How many?" I whispered. "How many times?"

"Six or seven." He shrugged. "He said it was no big deal. Then I came home to find my house tossed-"

"All fun and games until you get your own fucking hands dirty, right?" The contempt in my tone could have drawn blood. The picture-window shivered, and thunder tore the clouds overhead like wet paper. Six or seven times and Gabe didn't call me? The knowledge hit home. She hadn't thought I would show up. She'd known Japhrimel was alive, had she thought I wasn't interested in my human friends anymore?

What had I done? I would have dropped everything and come ru

Had she? Or had she not been sure I would show up, even when she sent me the datpilot message? Had she held off contacting me because she wasn't sure? How could she have doubted me? Was I her last hope, because she wasn't sure I'd respond?

How could she have doubted even for a moment?

I lied to her about Japhrimel. She probably felt betrayed. Guilt crawled into my stomach. I tasted bile.

"That same night, Eddie's wife was attacked. She had the kid with her. It was them getting attacked that did it, Valentine. Eddie told me they were safe, but…"

"Did Eddie tell you where?" Tension spilled down my back, brought me back to myself. "Where he'd put the kid?"

"He said you'd know. She's safe." He blinked at me. "You mean you-"

You mean you didn't know? I fthere was one phrase I was begi

Who betrayed them?

He folded his arms in a copy of my pose. He was sweating, his crumpled suit begi

"In a safe place." Three vials held by a demon in hock and the recipe and the murder file with Jado. A very nasty thought hit me after I finished the sentence-I'd given one vial to Horman.

I'd been so sure he could be trusted. But right after that four police cruisers had descended on me. And one vial was gone-maybe stolen by whoever Gabe had trusted, whoever had gone in her house and searched it as she lay bleeding and dying in her own backyard, stu

Sekhmet sa'es, I'm even suspecting Horman. He wouldn't be mixed up in this; he doesn't play like that. But the suspicion had taken root, and bloomed in my chest with a feeling uncomfortably close to panic.

I was well on my way to being paranoid. Rain slapped the window with rattling spatters of ice. Blood dripped off my elbows, I felt the blades of my claws slide out of my flesh. My eyes dropped to Massadie's chest. "Who?" My voice had dropped a whole octave, it worked its way free of my throat and I tasted the copper fruit-spice of demon blood.I am not in the mood to fuck around. Don't push me. For the love of every god there ever was, don't push me, you fucking little pile of corporate shit.