Poison Tree dos-8 Read online

  He had been awake for three days straight, training with Pandora. His entire body ached, his head pounded, and his skin was still occasionally streaked with ashes of heat, cold, or simply searing pain. Entering into the deep trance required to resettle his energies was proving nearly impossible, but at least at this hour the Onyx Hall was quiet. Most Onyx jobs happened under cover of darkness, so members rarely faced the morning light.

  He had thought that such trials would end after his initiation several months earlier, but

  Pandora never stopped pushing. Was near immortality worth the price?

  Most people disregarded their other senses as long as their eyes were working, but the leader of Onyx, named Kral, believed it was crucial for members to operate using at least ve senses—six, if they could manage it. The Hall was kept in darkness so thick that even a shapeshifter or witch could make little use of what light might become available. Therefore, Christian noticed immediately when the door opened, admitting a band of light.

  A member would have stepped inside and closed the door, but in this case, the light remained long enough that Christian chose to investigate. He scrambled down the sca olding, memories as old as he was letting him know where each bar or beam was without any assistance from his eyes. He dropped the last twenty feet, absorbing the impact without damage, and crossed toward the still-open door.

  There were two visitors. One hung back in the doorway; Christian kept his eyes averted from the morning sunlight streaming in around her and turned his attention to the other one, who had walked toward the assignment board.

  Any member was welcome to view that board, but the way the other woman lingered in the doorway made it seem more likely that these two were not supposed to be here. He crept closer, sliding up the crossbow hanging at his back so he could balance it on his arm.

  A shape shot past him in the darkness, barking frantically. The red Labrador retriever wasn’t much of a guard, since he would sooner lick than bite, but Christian smiled nonetheless as the woman at the board stiffened and turned toward the dog.

  And laughed.

  He froze in the darkness, unbelieving, as he watched her try to calm the exuberant dog, saying things like “Hi to you, too. Get down. No—” She gave up, and her tone sharpened as she gave the command, “Ringo, sit!”

  Ringo sat, though his tail never stopped playing percussion on the oor: Thump, thump, thump! Christian’s heart felt like it was doing the same thing.

  He didn’t stop to wonder, or think, or watch his back, or question, or even to take an instant to practice any of the self-control that was so crucial for his survival as both a member of Onyx and as a Triste. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Alysia’s waist to pull her forward, partly in a friendly greeting along the lines of a hug and partly because he needed to touch her to convince himself that she was real. The words that came out of his mouth—“Alysia, long time no see”—were ridiculously understated compared to his racing thoughts.

  The controlled words and tone were a product of more years than he could count of being careful about what other people saw and heard from him. Hearing his own voice startled him back to reality. Alysia was here, but she wasn’t alone—and what was she doing here?

  “And this is …?” he asked as Alysia pushed him away with a seemingly sad smile. The gure in the doorway still hadn’t stepped forward enough that he could see her. Did she know that, at this hour, the light pouring in around her made her featureless to anyone who wished to preserve any night vision?

  “Christian,” Alysia said, her voice perfectly even, “this is Sarik, an associate of mine from

  SingleEarth.”

  SingleEarth! He had a million questions he wanted to ask.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” the other woman said.

  Despite the polite words, she did not step forward or o er to shake his hand. Clearly, she wasn’t a threat; she wasn’t even brave enough to enter the building. She didn’t matter.

  “Why are you here?” he asked Alysia.

  It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. What he wanted to know was why she hadn’t been there for the past two years. The last time Christian had heard anything about Alysia, there had been a two-million-dollar price on her head. The only thing that kept him from demanding answers immediately was that he didn’t know what game Alysia was playing—

  yet.“We’re here on SingleEarth business,” Alysia answered.

  He tensed almost imperceptibly as she reached into a pack she was carrying, but the only weapons she retrieved were useless without a crossbow: three Onyx bolts.

  “Do you recognize these?”

  He did, instantly. He could even tell how old the restone was, and who had made it, which gave him all sorts of theories that only confused him more. “They’re ours,” he replied. “Pandora made the firestone.”

  “How can you tell?” the other woman—what did she say her name was?—asked.

  Stupid question. Firestone could only be made by Tristes, and any Triste could read the signature left on it.

  “Why bring these to me?” he asked.

  Alysia hesitated, which was when Christian realized how stupid he had been.

  Alysia hadn’t come here looking for him. If anything, she would have picked this hour because she knew when the Hall was normally empty. She hadn’t wanted to see anyone—

  or be seen herself.

  Was this the rst time? Or had she been here dozens of times, even hundreds? Like him, she was a third-ranked member; she had access to private contracts that could be accepted and fulfilled in complete secrecy.

  Alysia looked to her cohort, and the other woman cleared her throat as if nervous.

  “As Alysia said, we’re here from SingleEarth,” she said. Her voice was smooth like a politician’s, with a meaninglessly friendly tone and a bland Midwestern accent. “Three of our people were attacked this morning with these weapons. Alysia recognized them and said that someone from here was probably responsible.”

  Christian’s patience was running out fast, making him recall all the aches he still carried in his body. “Alysia is probably right,” he answered. “What’s your point?”

  Her carefully controlled tone broke, long enough for her to snap, “Our people could have been kil ed, and—”

  Genuinely surprised, he interrupted, “Whoever did this missed?”

  “They didn’t miss,” she bit out, before taking a step back, swallowing tightly, and getting her voice under control. “Alysia understands the logistics more than I do, but she thinks the archer didn’t intend to kill.”

  There were plenty of people in SingleEarth who might have had enemies from their previous lives—Alysia was a prime example—but Christian couldn’t imagine a contract going up to harass SingleEarth’s members without a kill intended. Alysia’s information was probably good, if she was telling the truth, but since Christian couldn’t imagine her in

  SingleEarth, he had no idea whether she had any reason to lie.

  “The shots were professional, easily third-rank,” Alysia said, “but I’ve never heard of a third-rank member of Bruja who would take a job where there’s no risk, no glory, not even a body left behind—nothing but panicked, unarmed SingleEarth members.”

  There was anger in her voice as well, though Christian suspected she was upset for different reasons than her cohort.

  “Whoever attacked us used these bolts to send a message they didn’t have the courage to present directly. The coward isn’t going to get away with it. Understand?”

  Alysia kept the words vague, but Christian took the meaning: she didn’t know what it was yet, but she was sure that this message had been intended for her.

  Us. She had used the word “us.” Whoever attacked us—her and SingleEarth.

  If the message is meant for her, then let her deal with it, Christian thought.

  “If someone has a contract out against SingleEarth, I haven’t heard about it,” he said, “so you might as well be on your wa
y.”

  “Christian—”

  “You might want to leave quickly,” he suggested. He pocketed the packet of bolts, noting the way Alysia’s gaze followed the movement. “Before someone here decides your intentions might not be in our best interest.”

  If Alysia really wanted to talk to him, she was going to have to do it at a time and place of his choosing, and it wasn’t going to include an audience.

  For now, Alysia looked from him to the sunlit doorway and then at him again. She started to speak, but then she shook her head and left with her SingleEarth friend. Given the glare of the morning sunlight, it was impossible for him to know whether she looked back.

  CHAPTER 6

  THERE WERE PLENTY of ways to find anonymous, willing blood donors in SingleEarth, and that was what Jason preferred. He didn’t have “regulars,” he never accepted blood from friends, and he never bled Sarik no matter how many times she o ered. He knew his refusals bothered her, but there was no way he could make her understand.

  After he fed, there was work to do. Lynzi was still resting, so it was up to Jason to greet the hunters who were arriving from less peaceful Havens. Thankfully, the weather had subsided to a fine drizzle as he showed their new security force around the campus.

  “Is this the only video surveillance?” one of the hunters asked, examining the camera in the lobby of the administration building.

  “Yes. It’s there mostly to give the secretary a heads-up,” Jason explained, aware that the angle was ill designed for security.

  The door opened to admit another hunter, who shook drops of water from her hair before she announced, “I cannot imagine anyone making the shots you’ve described.”

  Though she seemed to be speaking to Jason, she walked past him without looking at him and then spoke to the rst hunter. “There are trees close to the recreation building. The weather would have made it hard to climb them, but not impossible.”

  One problem with SingleEarth hunters was that they tended to start out as vampire hunters, so no matter how long they spent in SingleEarth, they rarely regarded one of

  Jason’s kind as a serious ally.

  So no one objected when he left to work on his own investigation.

  Of the three victims, only one had a good, predictable reason to have been outside at the time of the attack. Jason was normally sleeping at that hour, and given the weather and the vampiric ability to travel place to place instantly, no one would have expected him to be outside. Israel would usually have left hours earlier, and while it was possible that someone had waited on the icy roof of the recreation building for that long—a vampire or

  Triste could have managed it—it seemed like an unnecessary, uncomfortable risk for someone to take.

  That left Ben, the tech support guy who had showed up in response to a service request generated by a cyber attack. Ben had asked Jason where he could get some sleep, but he couldn’t have known that Jason would show up in the rst place, so it was more likely that

  Ben was a target than a conspirator.

  Jason wasn’t entirely dismissing the possibility that Ben was involved, though, for one good reason: Jason had crossed Onyx in the past. If they had found him, he couldn’t predict what they would do. Depending on what Alysia and Sarik learned at Onyx, he would decide what the others needed to know about all that.

  A look in Ben’s le revealed nothing obviously strange. He had been in SingleEarth for years, working mostly with computers and usually frequenting the more urban-style Havens and wards. There was nothing to indicate he had enemies, but such things didn’t always make it into the record.

  Two birds, one stone, Jason thought as he knocked on the door of the room where Ben was staying.

  Lynzi answered.

  “I thought you healed him,” he said, concerned.

  “I didn’t have time or energy to fully heal him earlier,” she answered. “I was able to stop the bleeding, but then I had to move on to others. There is still work to be done now to avoid long-term damage.”

  Lynzi stepped into the hall and gently shut the door behind her. “He’s sleeping now, though it was a hard battle for me to get him there. He is understandably anxious and wants to get back to Central as soon as he can. He feels safer there. He keeps muttering that this place reminds him of somewhere called Crystal Lake. Have you had any word from Sarik and Alysia?”

  “Sarik called when they were leaving Onyx to let me know they were safe. That was almost five hours ago, so they should be back any minute.”

  Lynzi nodded. “Diana called to check in, too. She’s swamped following up with that co ee shop event, but she gave me the authority to sign for any resources we need and assured me that if we need her here personally, she’ll be on the next plane.”

  “Do you think anyone from Alysia’s coffee shop could be involved in this?” Jason asked.

  “Diana thinks not,” Lynzi answered, sounding slightly hesitant. “She says the survivors are mostly coping well, thanks to Alysia’s swift intervention, but she has been elding calls left and right from the media.”

  Jason’s phone rang; he moved farther down the hall, away from Ben’s door, to answer.

  “Hi, we’re back,” Sarik said. “Do you know where Lynzi is? Her phone went straight to voice mail.”

  “She’s been with Ben,” Jason answered.

  “Sarik?” Lynzi guessed. When Jason nodded, Lynzi suggested, “Tell them to meet us in the conference room.”

  Jason relayed the message, and soon after, they all gathered in their regular meeting room. The cherry-paneled walls and other rustic accents seemed a good deal less peaceful now that Jason had taken a bolt to the guts on the steps of this very building.

  “Alysia was looking pretty ragged by the time we got back, so I suggested she lie down,”

  Sarik said.

  Lynzi nodded. “Did you learn anything?”

  Sarik nodded and chewed on her lower lip, a habit she had when she was nervous. “We met someone at the Hall. His name is Christian. I gather he and Alysia have a history of some sort. He seemed happy to see her at rst, but then he more or less told us to go to hell.”

  “Christian Denmark?” Jason asked.

  Sarik shrugged. “Alysia only used his rst name. It seemed like the kind of group where asking last names might be a bad idea.”

  Lynzi nodded, and asked Jason, “You know him?”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Jason said. “Christian is kind of like a foster son to the leader of the

  Onyx guild. It would probably be for the best if he didn’t see any more of Sarik.”

  “Excuse me?” Sarik asked. “Not that I want to make friends with a mercenary, but why me specifically?”

  “The leader of Onyx is a tiger,” Jason explained. “An old-school heavy hitter with ties to the Mistari high queen, if rumors are to be believed.”

  Sarik went pale as a sheet.

  According to Mistari law, each tribe was a distinct unit under the absolute control of their current king or queen, who answered only to the high ruler back in the main camps.

  Thousands of years ago, the tribes had specialized in order to provide for the greater community; some were mostly hunters, some gatherers, some planters, some craftsmen, and so on. In the modern age, that translated into some tribes being splendid examples of democracy and art and spirituality, and some being brutal, ruled by a claw-and- st autocracy.

  Sarik never spoke about her past, except in bits and pieces—usually when she woke from the nightmares left behind by being regularly beaten within an inch of her life whenever she transgressed.

  “That could create problems while I’m trying to nd a home for the cubs,” she said, her voice sounding hollow. “I’m still waiting on responses from the tribes I have contacted.”

  SingleEarth sometimes interacted with other Mistari, but very rarely with royalty, because Mistari royalty generally disapproved of individuals like Sarik who had chosen to leave their home tribes. If a Mistari king
saw Sarik and deduced that she was a runaway, he was likely to report her to her father. Jason wasn’t going to let that happen. Ever.

  Lynzi nodded her agreement, though she did add, “Sarik, you know that SingleEarth would never let anyone take you without your consent, right?”

  Sarik nodded, but the look in her eyes was blank. After years of fear, and pain, and shame, it was hard to fully believe anyone’s promise of protection, especially when new violence seemed determined to intrude on the peaceful life they had struggled to build over the last six years.

  CHAPTER 7

  ALYSIA WAS IN motion before she knew what had wakened her. She made the rst several attacks blind, while still blinking the sands of sleep from her eyes. Her mind registered things like movement, the ash of eyes—and a weapon. By the time she recognized the intruder, she had him pinned to the ground with an arm across his windpipe.

  She slapped Christian upside the head as she pushed herself to her feet. He was lucky she hadn’t been able to get a hand to the knife she had glimpsed at his waist.

  No, not lucky. He knew her style well enough that he would have been careful to keep her from any weapons until they both knew she wasn’t trying to kill him.

  “Jerk,” she said with a smile. “That door was locked for a reason.”

  She o ered him a hand up, unsurprised by his sudden appearance in her bedroom. She had given him enough information to track her down if he chose, and had suspected he would follow through as soon as he got over being simultaneously surprised and pissed that she had surprised him.

  As he rose, he said, “Was it really?” He took a moment to straighten out the leather jacket he wore and to check the security of items beneath. He might have left his crossbow at home, but Christian was never unarmed, not even in the heart of SingleEarth.

  Alysia looked at the clock and then turned back to him with a halfhearted glare. “Five in the morning? Real y? ” She sat back down on the bed, nger-combing hair out of her face.