Authors: L. J. Kendall
'James! I can't understand them!'
The couple in the seats directly in front turned and glared at her. Leeth glared right back, fighting down a sudden urge to thump them.
'Shh.' James put his finger to his lips, eyes still on the performers. 'Here's the programme.'
She took it from him, puzzled. Frowning in the dark, she re-read the pamphlet while the soprano continued her sonic assault.
Looking up from it, and around, everyone else seemed completely absorbed. Even James. She looked back at the programme. It sure
sounded
exciting. But
it was like they were all singing in
code
!
'James!'
After the curtain fell, Leeth seemed in no hurry to move. James watched her studying the departing audience with a strange intensity. 'Well – what did you think of The Rheingold?'
'There was an awful lot of it.'
'Would you like to meet the lead singer? Maria Lempriere?'
Leeth's eyes brightened. 'Yeah. Yeah, I would.'
After a short flurry of messaging, Maria flung open her dressing room door as they arrived. 'James! James Connor!'
She pronounced his name "Shames Kon-nor," Leeth noticed.
'How marveilleux to see you. And who is your little friend?'
'This is Samantha Westin. She was dying to meet you.'
'’Ow wonderful. What did you think of our performance?'
'I thought you were very brave.'
Maria's face stiffened.
'Singing, with your throat hurting like that.' She'd been half-guessing, but Maria's reaction confirmed it. Leeth sensed James go still, at her side. 'You might have some kind of growth: you should see a doctor.'
Maria raised one trembling hand.
'Or maybe a mage? They could-'
Maria pointed. 'Get out!' she hissed. 'At once! And you, James Connor…'
James dragged Leeth away as the singer's eyes fell on a heavy crystal ashtray.
From there, he took her to a night café. He
had
intended to take her to his club, but common sense prevailed.
Perhaps after she's more… rounded.
They sat now with their coffees, James watching with quiet disbelief as Leeth wolfed down a generous slice of carrot cake. After every mouthful or two, she stirred more sugar into her mug.
'Ah, that's better!' she said, after the seventh spoonful.
'Milk? Cream?'
'Oh? Uh, yeah. Sure.'
He poured. She tasted.
'Mmm, good.' She licked her fingers clean of cake, then took a large gulp of her coffee, though her lips twisted immediately after.
'You don't like the Colombian Novo-supremo?'
'No, it's, um, good. Very, you know.
Coffee
flavored. It's one of my favorites.' She tilted her head back and drained her mug. 'See? It was, yummy.'
He sipped at his own espresso. 'Would you like another?'
'No! I mean, no, thank you, James.' She shivered.
'Cold?'
'No.' She shut her eyes, then pushed back from the table, spreading her fingers wide.
Definitely trembling
. 'Hey. What should we do next? We don't have to go back yet, do we? We could go dancing. Oh! No, I know: the Tenderloin district's not far from here, is it? Yes! Let's! I'm sure
we could Hunt down some fun there. Please, James? Please, please, please…'
He took another cautious sip. 'I take it you've something specific in mind?'
She sprang up from her seat, twirling from their table and then dancing back to him, shimmying down to press her front into his side. '
Several
things.
Please
, James? Please, please, please….'
-
Maria Lempriere was still fuming.
Never
had she been so insulted! Her anger made her fumble the key to the door, and she had to strangle an urge to throw the foolish thing away. A brass key! What was this, the twentieth century? Finally, the mechanical lock clicked. Thrusting the door open, she stalked out into the small courtyard enclosed within the Opera House.
Which was another insult: to be forced into smoking
outside
– putting her delicate throat at further risk from the night air! Almost, she forgot to lock the door behind her.
She lit up, drawing the first soothing inhalation of her herbal cigarette, calming herself. Already, she could feel the rare Amazonian
medicine
relaxing her throat,
improving
her register. How dare that baby-faced-
From behind her, back by the doorway, came a loud and ugly snapping sound. She spun around to see a large figure, a man, step through the door and close it behind him. She moved back, drawing the man forward from the shadows.
'You are agitated tonight.'
He was tall, with a heavy build. He wore a very expensive, but also very
tired
suit.
'How did you get it in here? This is not open to the public.'
Ice blue eyes stared at Maria, unblinking. 'You Called. This one came.'
He stepped forward.
She stepped further back. 'Stop. Do not come one step closer or-'
She rocked back on her heels as a large hand clamped around her throat.
'You are distressed.' He nodded. 'Yes. And angry. And now, afraid. These are phantoms, clouding your mind.' The cold eyes burned into hers as she beat futilely at the arm holding her. 'There is no need for fear. You will soon see. Prepare yourself for the gift of clarity….'
Chapter 9
'Come
on,
James, stop
dawdling
. Let's race!'
Pulling her hand free of his, she darted ahead, deeper into the quake-twisted streets. From doorways of the buildings on either side, several large figures watched speculatively as Leeth sprinted past them, her high heels clutched in one hand.
Christ! She could
move
!
James charged after her.
And silent, too
, he noticed, realizing if he didn't catch her before he lost sight of her….
«Faster»
he ordered his bio-chip, and felt power surge to his legs.
Down two, three alleys he chased her, scarcely gaining ground, before she slowed, then stopped, standing with her head tilted to one side.
Thank god,
he thought, just as she blurred back into motion, smashing through a barricade to disappear inside what looked like a squatter's den. From within, ply-board crashed to the ground. He heard her scream a challenge, and answering male cries.
When he burst into the squalid, ill-lit room, it was to see one tattooed male falling backwards, blood spurting from his neck. Leeth's foot kicked out into another man now collapsing behind her, while throat-punching a third in front who fell, dropping a knife. Before her, a fourth person, a terrified young woman, clothing torn, scrambled away from her on heels and elbows.
'Stop!' James yelled.
She didn't. Instead, her teeth gleaming in a fierce smile, she hauled upright the gasping man she'd just punched. Behind her, the man she'd kicked rose groggily to his feet.
Knotting her hand in the jacket of the ex knife-wielder, she spun him around and
up
, hoisting him over her head to slam down into the man swaying behind her.
James winced as their skulls cracked together.
The young woman, still scrabbling on the ground on hands and knees, grabbed up… a credstick? Then fled.
James reached the tattooed ganger bleeding out from…
Good lord!
His eyebrows raised at the sight of Leeth's stiletto heel jutting from the jugular.
As he crouched down, the man's chest stopped rising and falling, her bloody victim falling still.
Placing her feet carefully, he saw, Leeth reached past him to wrench her shoe free.
'Are you- what do you think you're doing?'
The face she turned to him was alive with delight. 'Hunting for more people to rescue, of course!' She squeezed his arm. 'Thanks so much for bringing me here – this is heaps more fun than the opera!' She frowned at her blood-soaked shoe as she turned away. 'We
can
do more, right? Just let me finish off these other two, first.'
From behind, James tasered her. She staggered. But instead of collapsing, she spun around, jerkily, with an expression of disbelief. Only half-stunned. He followed up with a blow to her temple, a hard tap.
Still
she didn't go down! Instead, eyes glazed, her fist punched out to his belly. Even at full augment, he was only just fast enough to deflect the blow.
A third, harder strike to the side of her head finally rolled her eyes back, and she collapsed, her gaze still accusing.
Holy hell!
He looked around, assessing the scene. He had an evidence bag, which should be just large enough for her bloody heel, to keep his suit clean. He tucked that one inside his jacket and the other into a trouser pocket. Then, hauling her up and over one shoulder, he brought up a map to work out the best place to direct his car to, to meet them. Then called up the schematics for this address, and began picking his way out, toward the side exit.
Wincing, he thought ahead to his report on tonight's outing. She'd just taken it from ten minutes work, to two hours.
What the devil had gotten into her?
Chapter 10
It was the next day and for once, all three agents were mission-less. Emma and James lounged in the rec room, though with a palpable tension between them.
James had just returned from a short debrief with Father. Who had reacted to his account as he'd half expected: with indifference. 'Nelson set a watch - the deaths have passed unreported. Was that by accident, d'you think, or has she been paying attention to her lessons?'
James had been unable to say.
It also appeared that Father had reviewed just the highlighted portions of the optic and auditory downloads, covering the night's dramatic finale.
Father had nodded happily. 'She made short work of
them
, didn't she? Good job. She didn't look too pleased with
you
though, at the end. Do you think I need to have a word with her?'
James nearly snapped back that he didn't need protection from an eighteen-year-old girl. Then paused. Then frowned.
Father smiled. 'Exactly. Let's not, then, eh? Be another little test for her.'
The debriefing over, James headed to the rec room.
'James!' A complex mix of emotions played across Emma's face, and James forced himself not to wince. 'How did your "date” with Leeth go?'
Preacher watched: scowling.
'So-so. She was… a little wild. We returned to the Department earlier than planned.'
'And?'
He just shrugged, refusing to say anything further. With the result that for the last ten minutes, Emma had been very pointedly ignoring him.
Finally, James sighed. 'She's going to put on weight if she keeps eating like last night. She ate
a lot
.'
'Oh?' Emma asked.
'Yes. A large seafood pasta starter, then a massive steak, with
two
orders of vegetables. For dessert-'
'Dessert!'
'Quite. For dessert, she finished off with their famous waffles and home-made ice cream, drenched in Derek's chocolate sauce. He could scarcely believe it.'
'Well, she
is
extremely active. Have you ever seen her idle?'
James thought. Then thought harder. 'By god, you're right.'
Emma concealed a smile behind her hand. "
By god
." But from his lips it didn't sound contrived. Just a trifle quaint.
'Oh, and look at this, after she asked if we could request things not on the menu. Give me a channel.'
Emma transmitted a link address, then accepted the data feed. Since she was being social, instead of mixing the audio and video over her live senses, she cast the footage from James's eyecam to her newssheet.
In it, Leeth looked excited, leaning forward over the elegantly set table. The view shifted down to the girl's cleavage, and Emma shook her head.
'Then can we get them to barbecue some tarantulas?'
Leeth asked.
Emma sprayed a fine mist of tea, then cut the link, feeling faintly nauseous. Preacher, looking on, rolled his eyes at her reaction. 'The kid's right. They're delish. Amazonian delicacy.'
After that, though, James had refused to be drawn further, eagerly accepting Preacher’s challenge to a game of poker.
Emma left them to it, sinking herself back into the newsfeed on her tridsheet, the flexible display held up to signal her activity. Fifteen minutes passed before James tensed, so abruptly it made the other two turn to see what had caused the reaction.
Leeth was in the room, halfway to them.
'Hello, Leeth,' James said, and Emma noticed he'd put his cards face down on the table, watching the girl with a carefully neutral expression, his arms loose at his sides. Emma had seen that same deceptive readiness from him before. On missions.
'Hi.'
Preacher merely grunted.
But Leeth didn't move: just stood staring at James, her eyes narrowed.
James had grown even more tense: and with a sense of shock, Emma saw her augments register that James's had just entered combat mode. Preacher's head went up, and he looked on with interest.
And Leeth….
Leeth
relaxed.
With a private little smile now on her face, she padded silently over to them on bare feet, seating herself cross-legged in one of the large stuffed leather chairs by the card table.
She wore just a thin singlet and a pair of denim shorts, her skin gleaming with a sheen of perspiration.
Emma smiled a tentative greeting and Leeth smiled back, but said nothing. Emma's augments signaled as James powered back down. She glanced back at him as he warily picked up his cards.
«James: what was that all about?»
James though, with lips pursed, ignored her.