Darkside Sun (23 page)

Asher stared at me for moments before he went to a cabinet behind me—us—and retrieved a target in the shape of a person’s upper body. After attaching it to the little clip on the cable, he sent it to the wall about twenty feet away.

He watched me as if I’d turned into a wild animal. What, did he think I’d shoot him? Wasn’t a bad idea if I was that kind of girl.

“Do it, then,” he said, the words muffled through my muffs.

Izan raised my arm and pointed the gun toward the target, my other palm cupping my opposite hand as Asher had taught me. We stared along the barrel to line up the sight at the end between the notched bar closer to me. A nudge against the trigger-safety had it clicked off. I tried to clench up, knowing it would jump in my hand and be crack-bang loud, but I’d retreated so far into the background of my own body it wasn’t listening to me, only to Izan. To say it sucked would be an understatement.

Izan exhaled all of the air from my lungs as the sights lined up with the circle in the middle of the paper-dude’s chest. My arms wavered a bit, but once I was empty of air and held my breath, I went death-still. He—we—squeezed the trigger slowly. The gun jerked in my hand. I flinched inside, but he held me still on the outside, aiming and shooting every last bullet.

Not all of the shots were in the circle. Two of them went wild, out to the shoulders on either side of the target in the middle, but eight of them had found their mark. I turned to Asher, or rather Izan did, and he spoke out of my mouth. “While we are wasting time with this nonsense, the Misgiver is growing ever closer to that which he needs to destroy us all. You will take me hunting. You will arrange to have the other senior sentinels accompany us so we can gauge their reaction to what I do this night.”

Asher did a good impression of a gorgeous statue. He was afraid of me. Hot damn. “Who am I speaking to?” he asked. “Because it sure as hell isn’t Addison.”

Double-oh-crap
.

“I am Izan, and I am beginning to believe I made a grievous error in judgment regarding you. If you wish to rectify this, then you will listen to this woman, for she is the key to a future that is fading. She speaks for me, because I do not have a voice of my own, and clearly she is the only one deserving of my trust. You feel her potential as I do, and the pure soul that is the foundation the Machine so desperately needs. And
you
need. This is my gift to you, and you try to smash it beneath your boot. Fail me again, and I will return you to whence I found you and find another who will cherish all that she is.”

Asher sagged against the wall.

Izan left me in a rush of heat, and that squeezed feeling took a little longer to go. “That really sucked,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Hearing him is bad enough, but having him stretch out in me like a giant in a too-small car royally blows.”

“He had you like a wraith might have you, but he’s not,” Asher said, his face drained of color to leave it a grayish white. “There’s no cold in you, at least none I can detect with my extra senses.” Straightening, he asked, “What are you going to do tonight?”

I stopped rubbing myself and blinked at him. “What?”

“Izan said we needed to gauge the reactions of the other sentinels to what you do tonight. What is it?” He was practically shouting at me.

“How the hell should I know? But I’d suggest doing what he says. Do you know of a wraith-infected person you can use to show me how to hunt and how to pull it out?” Izan’s words came back to haunt me:
This is my gift to you, and you try to squash it beneath your boot
. “What do you suppose he meant by the whole gift thing? And where did he find you that his threat of sending you back there would make you pale like a dead fish?”

“I’ll find someone to hunt,” Asher said without looking at me. “We’ll hunt, and then we need to scour those books of yours.” He raised his gaze to me, shiny with fear, and more. Something, but I didn’t know what. Admiration? Respect? Nah. “You’re drawn to them, which means the Shift—Izan—wanted you to have them for some reason. There have to be answers there.” Striding to the door, he muttered, “Too many questions. Too many goddamned questions and never any answers. What do you want from me?”

He wasn’t talking to me, clearly, but I answered anyway. “When he lets me in on it, you’ll be the first to know.”

Chapter 26

I sat on one of the sofas in the common room, hugging my knees, rubbing a little piece of silk Sophia had given me between my fingers. Asher had gone off cursing to himself an hour ago. The steak Sophia and I had shared for supper made my stomach hurt, the first real meal I’d had in forever.

What would I be doing tonight that would evoke a reaction from the Misgiver? No, wait, I so did not want the answer to that. What did all of the others think of my little display with Asher earlier when I’d used the Shift to fight? Had they felt my surge of power as it came online, too? Was the Misgiver among them? The little twinge in my gut thought so.

Sophia burst through the door, searching first through the kitchen serving window before spying me on the sofa, huddling in the dark. “We’ve got a location. I need to get you dressed.”

Her nervousness while we’d eaten had made a shift to excitement. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Why do you seem … different?”

She shrugged, digging fingers into the pockets of her jeans. “I like this part of my job.”

I got up, my own tension easing with hers. “Okay, let’s go.”

She went out, practically skipping. I followed her down the hallway toward the warehouse. “Do I get one of those spiffy suits like you and Asher wore to my initiation?” I asked.

Smiling over her shoulder, she said, “No, something much cooler than that. Most jobs you have to blend in with whatever crowd the infected keeps. I only made this one yesterday with you in mind, hoping you’d get to wear it someday.”

“There’s something cooler than that suit? But it looks so neat and badass and … wait, tell me a skirt isn’t involved.” I was frowning, but I couldn’t help it. Suspicious? Who me?

She faced forward again as she came to the door, but her pout came through the words. “Why does the one person who I enjoy hanging around with have to be a total tomboy?” Using her butt, she shoved the door open.

“We’re going hunting, not clubbing.” I followed her inside. When she stared at the floor, grinning, my heart fell. “Oh, no. Are you saying we are going clubbing?”

“The Swan Club in New York, to be precise. It’s a Latin dance club.”

Silly, but I’d imagined us out in the woods stalking some poor idiot with a wraith-rider, not going about business among other people and doing real stuff. “Well, that blows.”

“I’ll get the dress.” As she started for the giant carousel of clothing covered in plastic, she muttered, “Not that you’ll like it anyway.”

“Ah, damn. I’m sorry,” I called after her, but she waved her arms over her head in a flurry of annoyance. Why did I keep feeling like I had to apologize for being who I was? I couldn’t help that I’d been a daddy’s girl, more comfortable chopping wood or fishing in jeans and flannel than flouncing around in a bloody dress, so why did I keep trying? Because I’d found my first real friend since Evangeline in Sophia. Would it really kill me to wear a dress for one stinking night, one she probably put a lot of thought and effort into? No, it wouldn’t.

She came back after a few minutes, still murmuring to herself. “Try this on. If you hate it, I’ll find something else.” A garment bag lay over her arm, showing red through the little window, which she thrust in my direction.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” I said, taking it from her. “Thank you for making it for me. Nobody’s ever made clothes for me before.”

The parts of her pale blue eyes I could see through her rainbow bangs appeared shocked. “What?”

“I’m sorry, and you heard me. I didn’t mean to be difficult. Friends aren’t supposed to dis their friend when she does something nice.”

Beaming, she dragged me over to the makeup chair, styling my hair with an iron so it lay in bouncing curls down my back, nattering on about Remy and something about the Colonel and Taka coming to blows over something nobody knew about. I was only half there, too distracted by the coming night to do much other than smile and nod. Some mascara, eye liner, a little blush, and red lipstick to match the dress, and I was ready to put it on.

I ducked behind a circular curtain hanging by the platform and mirrors, hung the hanger on a hook at the top, and unzipped the bag. Deep red fabric spilled out, flowy and luxurious. I rubbed my hands down it, lifted the hem to my cheek, and enjoyed the cool softness. I’d have worn it for the fabric alone.

I shed my clothes and pulled the dress on over my head. It was a halter-style with a built-in bra—my size, of course—and tied behind my neck. The skirt flared every time I moved, settling just below the knee when I stood still, like a play of wind across my legs. I could see why someone might wear it dancing. It was so alive, like it had its own mind every time I shifted even a little.

Staring down at my wow-worthy cleavage, I stepped out of the curtain. “How does this thing make my boobs look so huge?”

A tiny “eep” sounded from Sophia, bringing my focus away from Mount Titty-caca. Marcus had arrived with Remy and Taka. “Well, that’s just fantastic.” I glared at her, as she quietly laughed. “A little warning we had company might have been nice
before
I said something embarrassing.”

Certain my face had caught on fire, I crossed my arms over my chest that suddenly seemed way too out there for the looking. I found a scuff mark on the tile to focus on. Sophia set a pair of dainty sling-back heels at my feet. I slipped them on, glad for something to do other than blush.

“Beautiful,” Marcus said, his feet clad in black shoes beneath dark gray dress pants, coming into view. He stood before me, leaning into my ear. “But I think you’d look better wearing a well-worn-in pair of blue jeans and my silk shirt.”

My face snapped in line with his. Stupidly, I asked, “If I was wearing your shirt, what would you be wearing?”

He grinned, disarming, deliriously gorgeous, and charming. “Perhaps a silk sheet, and perhaps only a smile.”

If my face had been on fire before, it turned into a blazing inferno now. I had no idea what to say to such a brazen come-on, so I just stared at said shirt in a darker shade of jade than his eyes. How could a man wear green silk and still look utterly masculine?

“Let’s take that beauty for a spin, shall we?” He took my hand and spun me in a dance move, as if he’d rehearsed it a thousand times. The skirt did its thing, flaring up around my hips. I was damn glad I had on full coverage boy shorts and not a thong. That would have been drafty. When he spun me again, I ended up stumbling into someone. Asher. Oh, sure, it just haaaad to be him.

“What are you doing?” he ground out through a face so tight with anger I backed away from them both. “Touch her again and I’ll break you.”

“Chill, brother,” Marcus said, smiling wide. “Her storm is locked up tighter than Fort Knox right now, and I didn’t touch her long enough to do any damage. We were just having fun, not that you understand the concept.” He rolled his eyes at the last.

Asher pushed in, got up in his face. “I’m not your goddamned brother. We’re working, not fraternizing, so stop thinking with your dick and get your mind on the job.”

Remy cleared his throat and put his bulk in the midst of the imminent fisticuffs. “Brahs, we in kindigarten or in the Machine, eh? Why not put the balls away an’ do some planning, yeah?”

Taka cough-laughed before catching me staring at him, at which point he glared death mixed with icy-cold fear at me. I got the feeling he wasn’t sorry for trying to whack me and might take another crack at it if he found me alone. Fantastic.

I smiled at Remy as the men separated. Black shirt rolled up over his giant forearms, black jeans, and cowboy boots. Tribal giant does the rodeo. Although his eyes weren’t that different from Asher’s or Marcus’s in general description, they held warmth and honesty instead of a winter’s chill. Could Remy really have betrayed the Machine? No way. My heart didn’t want to believe it. If it turned out to be him, that same heart would break.

I surveyed the others in the room. Was the Misgiver standing with us? Kat had come in and posed by Taka. She wore a short black skirt and thigh-high suede boots with not much more than a pink tube-top covering her boobs. Her white-blonde hair hung shining and loose around her shoulders, and her makeup made her eyes pop.

Taka had on black dress pants and a modern version of a Hawaiian shirt. Somehow, it worked on him. What were his talents? How did he live with the knowledge that he’d killed someone he loved? The answer kicked me in the stomach. None of them were really living, only existing, and that had to change. I still couldn’t believe he’d killed her just by loving her. I had a strange feeling that I could help him if I could only figure out how.

“Plaid?”

I turned to find Asher bursting a vein as if he’d been talking to me for a while. “Stop calling me that,” I said.

“Over here, now.” He jabbed his finger at the floor beside him. “I asked … twice … do you dance?”

I shrugged, hating to admit to yet another place I fell short of his refinement. “I did the two-step with my gramps at a wedding when I was eight. Does that count?”

Gripping the hips of his well-fitted pin-striped suit, he stared at the ceiling. Maybe he was counting to ten.

I stood there and tried not to notice how good he looked in the suit with a deep blue shirt that made his eyes appear more blue than green. Somewhere between storm-cloud slate and robin’s egg, only brighter, cleaner, with an edge of ice. I couldn’t help thinking that we looked pretty good together, elegant and polished, but mine was just a façade. Inside, I was still the country girl, the plaid-loving redneck, and no amount of silk or satin would change that even if I wanted to. I shook off the sadness that tried to descend on me.

“I think she should go as she is,” Marcus said, his “look-how-cute-I-am” smile pointed at me. It wasn’t a comforting smile, but one I imagined he used often to cover some inner machination because he knew the person on the receiving end of it wouldn’t like what he was thinking.

“What do you mean?” Asher stopped his silent fuming and stared at the other sentinel. By the dip in his brow, he didn’t like the smile any more than I did.

“This is Xavier we’re talking about here,” Marcus said. “You know what he likes.” He traced me up and down with more heat than a toaster oven.

I blushed harder. “Why are you looking at me like that? And how do you know this infected guy? Has he been infected before?”

Remy nodded, expression grim. “Once they infected once, it easier for the wraith to find ’em again. Like roaches. Just keep coming back.”

How did that even happen? Wasn’t there a way to close up a person after the wraith came out?

“No,” Asher barked.

“Look at her, Ash,” Marcus said. “He likes the innocent, the inexperienced. He likes to teach them to move the way he wants. She doesn’t even have to act. She screams innocent and sweet, and you can’t deny her allure, especially in that red dress.”

“I said no. Kat is our bait.” Asher sounded almost desperate.

“Kat’s good, but for this one, Addison will be better,” Marcus said, his smile a beacon. “Won’t you, little rabbit?”

Kat did her best to slay Marcus with those evil lasers of hers. Not too much pressure. “Sure,” I said, and might have convinced exactly nobody with the lame chuckle I gave afterward.

“I don’t know ’bout this, brah.” Remy rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “This could go way wrong.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Kat stomped around in her screw-me boots. “Not wrong, a goddamn disaster.”

Marcus clapped his hands together. “It’s perfect. It’s settled, then.”

Asher shook his head, jabbing a finger toward the other sentinel. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’m the highest ranking sentinel here, and I say it is. Let’s go, boys and girls.”

My steak really wanted to come back for a visit. I so did not want to do this.