The Summer Queen (106 page)

None of it meant shit, he told himself fiercely. It couldn’t;
it was suicide, murder. She had saved his life. Now he would save hers, by
never seeing her again.

“Ariele—” Niburu said.

“What about her?” Reede demanded. He caught Niburu by the
shoulder, making the shorter man wince.

“She just left—” Niburu gestured down the Street.

Reede let him go, glancing away into the crowds. He thought
he caught a glimpse of silver-white, wasn’t sure. “So what?” he repeated, oddly
relieved that fate had granted him a delay. He started to push past Niburu,
heading into the club.

“Reede!” Niburu shouted, in sudden exasperation. “Listen to
me, you bastard!”

Reede turned back, mildly incredulous.

“I think maybe she’s in trouble.”

Reede came back to him. “What do you mean?”

“She was waiting for you like usual, and that kid Elco Teel
started hassling her, trying to get her to go to some party with him, and she
wouldn’t. And then all of a sudden she changed. It was night and day, suddenly
she was all over him, and then they went out together.”

Reede frowned. “So she went to a party.” He gave a grunt of
disgust. “You expect me to give a damn?”

Niburu caught his sleeve, holding him when he would have
turned away again. “I said she changed. It wasn’t like she changed her mind, it
was like something happened to her. Tor saw it too, she says Elco Teel slipped
Ariele something.”

Tor—the woman who ran the club. He remembered that Niburu
was having an affair with her. “She was practically eating him, right there in
public, boss. It didn’t look right to me either. Tor said if you care anything
about her, you ought to check it out.”

Reede swore, searching the crowd again, not seeing anyone
now who might have been Ariele. “Which way did they go?”

“I sent Ananke to follow her. You can track him by remote.”

Reede looked down at him, with abrupt surprise. “Good.” He
nodded. He touched Niburu’s shoulder briefly, as he switched on the tracer and
found Ananke’s signal.

“You want me to go with you, boss?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said.

“I can keep up. If there’s trouble—”

“If there’s trouble it’s not your legs that get in my way.
It’s your fucking conscience.” Reede turned on his heel and started off into
the crowd.

The trail led him down the Street’s languid spiral; not up
it like he’d expected, toward the townhouses that belonged to the rich Winters
and offworlders. Instead Ananke, and the ones he was following, were headed
into rougher territory, the interface of the lower Maze and the Lower City,
where most of the Summers lived, closer to the sea—where warehouse districts
and processing plants took up entire alleys, and things were likely to happen
that nobody wanted to talk about the next day.

He pushed himself, moving faster as he realized where they
were headed, as the crowds thinned out around him. At last he reached the
entrance to an alley that looked entirely deserted. He hesitated and then
started down it, as the tracer told him, in an insistent monotone, that it was
not as deserted as it looked.

He moved deeper down the empty throat of silence, reaching
into his heavy jacket. He drew his stunner and checked the charge as he walked
like a hunting cat along the looming, ancient building fronts. At last he heard
something, a faint echo of voices; he slowed, entering the claustrophobic
accessway between warehouses. “Ananke!” he whispered, as his eyes made out a
familiar form waiting in the shadows.

Ananke jerked around and Reede saw light flash on metal; saw
his face go from grim fear to stupefied relief inside of a heartbeat. “Boss—”
he murmured, sagging against the wall. The dagger he always wore at his belt,
that Reede had never seen him draw, was in his hand. “I was going in—”

Reede could hear other voices clearly now. He gestured
Ananke aside, climbed up onto the pile of boxes so that he could see in through
the spot rubbed clear on the heavy, grime-coated glass of a small, high window.
There was a party going on inside; and he knew without looking closer what kind
of party it was. He watched a moment longer anyway, tensely searching for a
familiar face, a shock of milk-white tour .... There.

He leaped down, facing Ananke again. “That’s all you’ve got?”
he said, nodding at the dagger.

Ananke grimaced. “Sorry, boss, I—”

“Shut up. Take this.” Reede pulled his own knife, and handed
it over. “Don’t kill anybody, for gods’ sakes—at least not by accident. Is the
door locked?”

“I don’t know.”

Reede grunted, pushing past him. The door was locked. He input
an override sequence and shoved it open, ignoring its programmed alarm. They
ran down a short corridor; met someone coming to check out the bleating door as
they reached the end. Reede hit him in the face with the stunner’s weighted
butt, and he went down without a protest.

Reede stepped over him and entered the space beyond, with
Ananke following. The perimeter of the warehouse was crowded with piled crates
and equipment; the bleak, open space at its center had been covered with cargo
mats. There was a crate topped with a variety of cheap drugs, and a crowd of
maybe a dozen people, most of them offworlders, most of them men,
tough-looking, laborers and brands, probably. Elco Teel stood at one side, with
three other young Winters from his crowd, two girls and a boy. Reede watched
them watching, pointing, tittering; his own eyes leaped to the object of their
attention.

Ariele Dawntreader stood in the center of the room, on the
waiting mats, surrounded by a restless cluster of men. The one strap of her
long, rainbow-shaded tunic was off her shoulder, the tunic halfway down to her
waist. The total stranger she was kissing, deeply and thoroughly, was fondling
her breasts, as someone else moved in on her from behind, pulling the tunic
farther down her half-naked body. Whistles and catcalls echoed from the hard,
pitiless surfaces of the room.

Ananke swore, starting forward. Reede pushed him back again,
out of the way; raised the stunner and took aim. He fired. The offworlder in
the process of dropping his pants behind Ariele clutched his groin with a yelp
of disbelief. He collapsed on the floor, in a sudden puddle of his own urine,
as he lost control of his body functions.

“Ariele!”

Heads turned all around the room, away from the spectacle in
front of them, toward him. The offworlder who was fondling Ariele let her go,
pushing her away roughly as she tried to cling to him. She stumbled free,
turned unsteadily to stare at Reede along with everyone else. Her eyes were
glassy and uncomprehending. She looked down at herself, up at his face, away
again, with a peculiar quirk of her head.

Reede came on into the room, brandishing the gun. No one
moved, all of them caught somewhere between chagrin and disbelief. “Ananke,” he
said, and pointed toward Elco Teel, “cover the little perverts, over there. Don’t
let them go anywhere.” He watched Ananke move forward, holding the two knives
in plain sight, to stand guard in front of them. “Now,” he said, to the mob of
sullen, silent men who still surrounded Ariele.

One of them took a step toward him. He raised the gun and
the man backed up again. But he read the speculation in their eyes as they
began to realize how outnumbered he was. Ananke looked his way, uneasy.

“I’m calling the Blues,” Reede said, certain that he had
everyone’s attention, “and reporting this gang bang. Maybe you cocksuckers want
to hang around and see how much fun you can have with the Queen’s daughter before
they get here ... or maybe you want to see how far away you can get instead.”
He touched his remote with his free hand, putting in a callcode.

The offworlders began to move, one by one—toward the door
this time. He kept the gun trained on them as they passed, their steps
quickening as panic began to set in. They were out of the building inside of
half a minute, dragging along the piss-stinking one he’d crippled. The door
slammed shut behind them. He was sure they wouldn’t be back.

He moved slowly across the room to the spot where Ariele
stood, her face still dazed and unfathomable as she tried to pull her clothing
back into place. She stopped trying as she saw him come toward her, and held
out her arms. “Reede ...” she whispered

Reede stuck the stunner through his belt and pushed her
hands aside. He caught the strap of her tunic, keeping his eyes on her face as
he pulled the soft, shining cloth up over her breasts, sliding the strap back
onto her shoulder with gentle, noncommittal motions. She put her arms around
him, pulling him against her. “Stop it,” he said, and shook her off. “Stay
there.” He started back across the room to the place where Elco Teel stood;
realizing, annoyed, that Arieie was following him. Reede studied Elco Teel’s
pouting, frightened face, his pouting, frightened companions.

“Did you really call the Blues?” Ananke murmured, staring at
him.

Reede laughed. “No,” he said; saw Ananke relax, and the
young Winters start to relax with him. His own body stiffened as Ariele came up
behind him and wrapped her arms around him again, sliding her fingers into the
seal of his shirt. He pulled her hand free irritably. One of the Winter girls
gave a high, nervous giggle, watching Ariele’s hands crawl over his body as if
they had a life of their own.

“You think it’s funny?” Ananke said, suddenly. Reede looked
at him, surprised by the hard bitterness of his voice. “You really think
laughing at her makes you safe? Makes you one of them—?” He jerked his head at
Elco Teel and the other boy. “The next time it might be your turn, sister—”

The girl glared at him, sidling closer to Elco Teel, taking
hold of his arm.

Reede stepped forward, catching the expensive, diaphanous
shimmercloth of her tunic at its collar. He ripped it open to her waist with a
sudden, brutal motion. “And next time they might not bother to put you in the
mood, first, sweeting—”

The girl cried out, shrinking away from his touch as she
pulled her torn clothes together. Elco Teel’s face tightened, but he made no
move to stop it, to help her. The other Winters gaped, wide-eyed.

Reede turned his back on them, pushing Ariele away, maddeningly
aware that he was starting to get an erection. He swung back to face Elco Teel;
held his hand out to Ananke. Ananke passed him his blade silently, uneasily.
Reede raised the knife until its tip was touching Elco Teel’s throat. “I didn’t
call the Blues, because they might object to what I have in mind for you,
little man,” Reede said softly.

Elco Teel went white, his whole body seeming to shrivel back
from the knife’s point.

“This was no accident, was it, Elco Teel?” Reede murmured,
tracing an infinity sign along the quivering length of Elco Teel’s neck. Even
Ariele was silent and still now, waiting and listening; no longer touching him,
although a part of him was still aware only of her, the feel of her, the smell
of her—He wrenched his attention back. “Your old man put you up to this, and
the Source put him up to it, am I right?”

“I don’t know,” Elco gibbered. “Yes—maybe—Da gave me the
drug! He said I could get back at her, at you, because you took her away from
me—”

Reede’s hand jerked downward in a sudden, slashing movement,
and Elco Teel screamed in pain.

Reede stepped back, inspecting his work. Elco Teel swayed on
his feet, making a mewling whine as he stared down at the hanging ruins of his
expensive clothes; at the thin, precise line of the wound running from his
throat to his navel, the spreading ribbon of red oozing out of it as he
watched.

Reede caught Elco’s chin, lifting his head ungently. “Now listen
to me, you little turd. You tell your father ... you tell him it didn’t work.
And tell him he’s out of his depth. You tell him it’s a closed game, between me
and the Source. That this is just a warning. That next time they’ll have to put
the pieces of your body back together like a puzzle just to bury you .... And
that’s nothing, compared to what I’ll do to him. Do you think you can remember
all that?”

“Y-yes,” Elco Teel whimpered. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“Then go tell him.” Reede wiped his blade on the rags of
Elco Teel’s shirt and stepped aside, opening a space for Elco Teel and the
others to escape. They fled, Elco Teel leading the way.

Reede watched them go, listened for the heavy reverberation
of the slamming door. He put his knife away.

Ananke did the same, echoing his motions. Reede saw the look
on his face then, half stunned admiration and half concern. “What’s going to
happen now?” Ananke said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“The Source—”

Reede grimaced, realizing with an odd annoyance that the concern
in Ananke’s eyes had as much to do with him as it did with Ananke’s own safety.
He shook his head, and shrugged, all the response he could bring himself to
make.

Soft hands touched him again, unexpectedly, and he started.
Ariele was back beside him, caressing him, her lips brushing his cheek. Her
touch was more tentative this time, but still it made his body sing like a
plucked wire. “Stop it,” he murmured; but this time it was harder to push her
away, as if something was slowing his motions, weighing down his resolve like
gravity.

Ananke stood watching them, with uncertainty coming back
into his face.

“Go back to the club and find Niburu,” Reede said. “Tell him
everything’s all right.”

Ananke glanced at Ariele. “What about—?”

“She’ll be all right.”

“Maybe I should stay, and help you get her home ....”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snapped, when Ananke still
hesitated. “Get out.”

Ananke nodded, with obvious reluctance. His eyes stayed on
Ariele, on her hands, her mouth, and the things they were trying to do to Reede’s
body, as he started for the door.